“I’ll double what Shadow Woman owes you,” I said.

The words had barely left my mouth when Sam headed for the counter. He reached under, yanked out a file, and opened it. Julia gave him a disgusted look and went back to replacing cans.

“The old lady’s balance as of six months ago was two hundred fifty-seven dollars and forty-two cents. Her check for that amount bounced, as I’m sure you heard.” He shot Julia a nasty glance. “The dog food, at forty-six eighty-five a month for six months—”

“Three months,” I said. “You stopped feeding them a while back.”

Sam didn’t bother looking up. “So, three hundred ninety-seven dollars and ninety-seven cents doubled is . . . seven hundred ninety-five dollars and ninety-four cents.” This time he looked at me and smirked.

I wanted to punch him into Turkey or France but instead opened my checkbook, grateful that no one could see my shaking hand. I had the money, thanks to the disability payments, but I was supposed to be invisible. Now I had everyone’s attention.

After writing the check, I handed it to Sam, then stepped away from him. I knew my limp would be more pronounced. It always was when people were watching me. And Bram was watching.

Why should I care that Bram was watching? News flash, officer, this model comes dinged, shopworn, and as is.

“I’ve added another fifty dollars for dog food to take with me.” I turned to the deputy. “Looks like there will be three of us heading up to the Mule Shoe.”

Bram grinned at me.

He didn’t get the “shopworn” memo.

“Sam, can I borrow your wagon?”

Or maybe he did. “I’m perfectly capable of riding a horse.” I tamped down the unwelcome memory of my competitive horseback-riding days. I hadn’t been on a horse, let alone raced around any barrels, roped a single calf, or done any other timed event, for five years. I wasn’t even sure if I could stay on a horse.

“You might be, but fifty pounds of dog food, not to mention the food dishes and bones Sam is about to give you, won’t fit on the back of a horse.”

“I think the dogs and I can manage.”

“But there’s more.” Bram glanced at Sam. “Since Miss Graham paid Shadow Woman’s bill, you need to give her the scrip.”

“Script?” Julia paused her tidying up.

“Scrip. No t,” I said to her. Stop showing off.

Bram rubbed his mouth to hide his grin, then said to me, “Shadow Woman used her drawings in lieu of money—”

“A practice called scrip, which is a substitute for legal tender,” I said to Julia. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

“Yes,” Bram said, “at least for the past year or so. You made that suggestion, right, Sam? So because Darby here has paid her bill, she gets the art. Right again, Sam?”