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“I think I am. Why do you ask?”
“I’m a carpenter, too. Only one within miles. I also own the mill. If you need work while you’re here, me and this busted leg could sure use some help.”
“I’m not planning on staying after I speak with Dr. Lee, but thanks for letting me know I’d have work if I did.”
Garrett spent a few more minutes being quizzed about where he was from and what other places the newspaper business had taken him to.
Odell asked, “So you and Spring getting along?”
Garrett paused and wondered where this might be going. “I’m very grateful that she took me in. I’m concerned about folks thinking I’m courting her. Farthest thing from my mind.”
“Why?” Porter asked.
Garrett studied him. “I doubt Miss Lee is interested in being courted by a man who will be leaving soon.”
Moss asked, “If you weren’t leaving, would you be interested?”
More accustomed to being the nosy questioner, he kept his voice calm. “I think that would be between me and Miss Lee, don’t you?”
Moss smiled. James did, too. Odell said, “See? He’ll do fine, won’t he?”
Garrett was afraid to ask, but did anyway. “Fine as what?”
“As the man Spring needs to court her,” Odell replied as if it was obvious.
Exasperated, Garrett said, “But you don’t know anything about me. Suppose I’m already married or engaged?”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then, there you go,” Odell said.
He wondered if the people in Paradise were prone to insanity. As he contemplated that, a tall auburn-haired man entered. There was a brass star pinned to the front of his brown wool coat.
“Name’s Whitman Lambert,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m the sheriff. Call me Whit.”
Thankful to be rescued, Garrett shook theman’s hand. “Garrett McCray. Pleased to meet you.”
Whit explained, “Dovie asked me to show you around.”
“I’d like that.” Anything to get away from Odell and his matchmaking friends.
Garrett turned to them. “Nice meeting you gentlemen.”
Odell said, “Whit, give this to Heath. It came in with this morning’s mail.” He handed the sheriff a small package wrapped in brown paper. “And take real good care of our guest there.”
The sheriff appeared confused by that, but replied, “Sure, Odell.”
Outside, Lambert asked, “What was that all about?”
Garrett said, “You don’t want to know. Where to first?”
“Let’s go take this to Heath Leary over at the saloon.”
Before going home, Spring rode over to the Irish Rose, the town’s local saloon. She’d asked the owner, Irishman Heath Leary, to order a bottle of scotch from a Denver importer, and she wanted to see if it had arrived. Unlike the wild Spring of old, she rarely set foot in saloonsanymore. If she wanted to sip, she preferred to do it in the evenings, at home—alone. As she entered the establishment, she scanned the near-empty interior, noting a few men seated here and there. A small group sat together at a table in the far corner. Baxter, the aged piano player, was dressed in his usual threadbare black suit. He was also slumped against the piano, asleep. She walked over to the bar where Leary was stacking glasses. Dark hair and eyes, he was easily one of the most handsome men in the Territory. He was also hopelessly in love with Dovie Denby, who refused to give him the time of day.
“How are you, Spring?”
