Page 165 of The Widow and the Wanted

“Yes, ma’am. Mrs. Clay, you are a bona fide pillar of the Three Forks community.”

“It’s that liver tonic,” she says. “Boone, you are a genius.”

I take a small bow. Fact is, we’re set up right next to a saloon. Goldie gets folks good and drunk—all I said was we should sell the cure for the morning after.

“Who would have ever thought Boone Maddox would have such a knack for business?” Lula adds, swaying her hips just so.

I clap my hands and grab her by the waist. She yelps as I lift her and set her on the counter.

“Ever been up this high, little one?”

She shoves my chest. “Now you have to be quiet for the whole rest of the day.”

“What?” I ask, though the memory of last night has already come creeping back.

We were in bed, and it was Lula’s turn to read a book aloud. Rules are dealer’s choice, so she read some story she picked about some sisters or something or other. I’d only just closed my eyes and was wondering how come I ain’t never had a wealthy neighbor like the family in the story when I asked her, “What’s the name of that book again?”

“Little Women.”

I blinked at her, and when she didn’t smile or laugh, I realized she was serious. I couldn’t help myself.

“Little Women? I thought you said this was fiction. You been reading your autobiography the whole time?”

Okee said I couldn’t go one day without making fun of Lula’s height. I bet them a day without a peep out of me that I could.

Shit.

Now Okee’s cheering. Lula hops off the counter, and they dance between a row of blue tincture bottles, bundled yarrow, and paper-wrapped parcels of dried comfrey.

“What am I supposed to do if a customer comes in?”

“Ah!” Okee shouts. “Hush. Every time you make a sound, we’re adding fifteen minutes.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Half an hour.”

Bastard.

I clamp my jaw and glower at them.

Lula grins like she’s won a prize at the county fair. Okee takes up a little two-step, all elbows and long limbs, nearly knocking the glass bottles over.

I point two fingers at my eyes, then at him.

He gasps, clutching his chest. “Mrs. Clay, I believe our man has threatened me bodily harm.”

“Add thirty minutes for violent gestures,” Lula says.

My mouth drops open.

“Two hours,” Okee says, delighted.

I shut it so hard my teeth click.

Fools, both of them.

Lula goes back to stacking salves, still smiling to herself. She don’t even have the decency to gloat aloud. Just that little tuck at the corner of her mouth, that soft wicked look she gets when she knows she’s got me caught. I could lift her back onto the counter. Could throw her over my shoulder. Could kiss that smugness clean off her face.