The Smell of Daisy
620 Words
The iron bars clicked shut behind him, and McCutchen strode into the sheriff’s office with a polite smile on his face. “Why Miss Lickter, it’s a pleasant surprise to see you today.”
The slight Daisy Lickter wore a thin white dress that hung on delicate straps, exposing her shoulders, before resuming sleeves that ended with frills around her wrists. The dress lifted her ample bosom with a high waistline that flowed to a hem just above her knees, a style he’d never seen before. She curtsied. “Ranger McCutchen, the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure.”
McCutchen swallowed, taking the young lady’s hand loosely while producing a mild bow of his own. Easy on the eyes, the sheriff’s daughter had grown up nicely. While not much for the trivialities of civility, McCutchen maintained good working relationships. Sheriff Lickter, despite being a soft politician lamely disguising his Jewish heritage by switching the “h” in his name to a “k”, was sheriff of an important border town. And as far as McCutchen knew, he wasn’t corrupt.
“Why Mr. McCutchen, have you been shot?” Daisy asked.
McCutchen realized he’d failed to tidy his shirt after staunching the bleeding earlier. He relaxed and allowed himself a chuckle. “Hardly.”
“Now I don’t claim to be an expert in such matters, Ranger McCutchen, but how does one go about getting himself hardly shot?”
McCutchen tensed again as Daisy moved more quickly than most of the men he’d laid low, placing her hand over the bandage on his chest. He tried to relax himself by taking deep breaths, but the air was laced with her intoxicating perfume, like sagebrush ground with cinnamon. He shifted his neck, popping it to relieve some of the tension. “Well, Miss Lickter, I suppose that’s a reasonable question, but one I’m afraid I don’t have a simple answer for.”
She ran her fingers gently around the edges of the bandage. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be more than hardly bandaged despite being hardly shot.” She batted her eyes while her hot breath tickled him. She lightly pressed her bosom into his rigid stomach and simultaneously ripped the bandage from his chest. He flinched from the suddenness more than the pain.
Big Benny floundered to control his daughter. “Honey, the dressing was sufficient. Are we going to have dinner? I’m sure Ranger McCutchen would consider joining us.”
“Oh Father, hold your horses. No doubt you won’t waste away.” Deftly she dressed the wound with swift yet graceful movements, taking every opportunity to make subtle, physical contact.
McCutchen struggled not to notice her proud breasts and plunging neckline, or the way her delicate umber skin whispered beneath the falling loops of dirty blonde hair that refused to stay completely restrained in a loose knot.
The girl, while cunning, tried too hard to assert herself as a woman. Nothing like his unassuming Elizabeth. The thought of her choked him, like a fist-sized tumor in his gut trying to work its way out. The burn scar on his ring finger flush with pain, he pushed her memory into the pitch of his soul where it had lived for the last fifteen years.
Daisy finished. “There. Now Ranger McCutchen can join us for dinner in comfort knowing that his wounds have been properly dressed.” She curtsied again. “It’s the least I could do in exchange for your company.” She caught McCutchen briefly with her eyes before lowering them.
“Marvelous.” Big Benny huffed. “Would you like to join us, McCutchen? If I remember correctly, you favor a good steak? Bravo’s has the best, and there’s a decent chance nobody’ll shoot at us.”
Dangerous, that one. McCutchen noted how effortlessly Daisy switched from brazen to demure. He checked himself, smiled and accepted the invitation. It’d been awhile since he’d tasted a good steak.
- Writer
