Forty oneSimms listened to what Sheriff Miller had to say. He'd rode into Bovey at the end of yet another blustery day, the wind whipping around like a thousand Ute arrows, attacking every inch of exposed flesh. His nose streamed and his jaw ached with the constant gritting of teeth. Time was always against him.
“I had no choice,” explained Miller, pouring Simms a cup of coffee. “The order came through and the judge made the ruling.”
“I should have been here.”
“I doubt if there would be anything you could have done.” Miller handed over a steaming cup and Simms, huddled in his overcoat and still wearing his scarf and gloves, nodded his thanks. Miller sank into his chair. “I know I was always dubious over that older woman, but the young one seemed like a firebrand to me. And she took a sh
