Effie reached the mercantile out of breath. A gray-haired man in an apron looked up from his scales. “Afternoon, Miss.”
A bell clanged on the door she’d ran through. “I can’t find the sheriff.” She waved her hand in the direction of the lodge. “An Injun came out to where I’m staying.”
The grocer had watched her; now he looked back to his weighing and the pile of beans in the teetering pan. “Hold on.”
“It had a wagon full of lumber. I don’t know where it came from.” She’d survived a brush with death, and the man continued weighing his beans. “Bridget and I were alone.” He brushed two beans off the scale with a hairy knuckle. “Rev. Jackdaw is gone.”
“You’re the one married to the old preacher?” He watched the scales.
“Welcome to Bleaksville.” A woman’s voice.
Effie turned to see her st
