“Fence cut. North end,” he yelled.

Chase blew out his breath. “How many we lose this time?”

“Fifty. Maybe more.”

Chase cursed beneath his breath. This was the third time in as many months that he’d lost cattle! It wasn’t just the cattle thieves that gave him trouble; it was also the advocates for an open range—the fence cutters, as they were called.

“Gather up the boys and follow their trail.”

With a nod of his head, Gabby headed back in the direction he’d come.

Chase spun around and headed for the stables. Could this day get any worse?

7

After leaving Garvey’s shop, Emily walked to the courthouse, only to learn more bad news. The clerk informed her that the judge had been called out of town and wouldn’t be back until Friday. That was three days away.

Leaving the courthouse, she wandered along Main and tried to decide what to do. What little money she had left would have to last, so staying at the hotel more than one or two nights was out of the question.

Looking for a reprieve from the heat, noise, and curious eyes, she stepped into the relative coolness of Gordon’s General Store. The air was thick with the mingled smells of plug tobacco, leather, and coffee. Counters were piled high with bolts of gingham and other dry goods. Pots and pans hung from the rafters, along with a wide selection of lanterns, oilcans, and tools.

Barrels filled with pickles and crackers were arranged about the store, along with bins of sugar, flour, and beans.

A bespectacled man greeted her from behind a counter that displayed knives, mouth organs, and pocket watches. “Haven’t seen you around these parts. I reckon you’re new in town.”

“Yes, yes I am,” Emily said.

“Mack Gordon.”

“Emily…” Recalling with a jolt that her legal name was now McKnight, she fell silent.

A lady did not introduce herself by her Christian name, but if the shopkeeper thought her ill-mannered, he kept it to himself.

“Well, howdy do, ma’am,” he said in a full Texas drawl. “What can I do you for?”

“I’m looking for employment.”

He raised his eyebrows. “’Fraid I can’t help you there,” he said. “I’m not lookin’ for anyone to hire.”

“Actually, I’m looking for employment as a governess,” Emily explained.

In a small town like Haywire, the general store proprietor probably knew everyone and was privy to everything that happened there. Certainly, he would know if someone needed a governess. At least, that was what she was counting on.

Gordon pushed his spectacles up his nose. “Well, ma’am, it’s like this,” he said, drawing out his words beyond endurance. “We already have a governor. Name’s Ireland. Far as I know, we’re not lookin’ to replace him yet. And certainly not with someone of a female persuasion.”

Before Emily could explain that she didn’t want to run the state, an elderly woman dressed in widow’s weeds walked up to the counter and set her basket next to the cigar display. “She means she wants to tutor,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. “Men!” She held out a gloved hand. “I’m Mrs. Peters.”