2

There’d been thin times. Enough that the knot of fear that always began to tighten when she could begin to see the bottom of the drawers of basic foodstuffs in the mercantile loosened. Yes, they could weather lean times. Mostly. But having enough and a little to spare was a good thing. It kept the town easy and satisfied.

And with the days beginning to lengthen and planting season and the hours upon hours of labor that came with it, satisfied was a far better mood for people than the drawn face of worry.

Once she’d signed for everything, the transport would head over to the lot they used while in town. It was at the outer edge of the business center and the residents of Silver Cliffs would be able to drop off things to have them be delivered all up and down the Highway. Verity handled official mail, but there was a steady barter business between all the garrison towns.

“Tobin, get the news and other periodicals out first. I’m going to start on all the mail. Don’t unlock the doors until I say so.” She headed up to her apartments above the store to check on the stew she’d started that morning. Extra glad now that she knew she’d have a guest.

The place smelled good, the savory herbs and baby onions she’d found on her walk the day before near the river beginning to rise, accompanying the meat from a plump Muscat she’d been paid with. Muscats were nice and fat this time of the annum as they fed on the snow mice that bred in abundance. Her customer had even plucked and dressed it, saving Verity the less than pleasant job.

Another quick look in the mirror in the room Loyal always rented out when he came to town. When she’d received the blip that a transport would be arriving she’d aired it out, giving all the bedding a wash and leaving them in the sun to dry. Mountain lilies sat in a vase on the dresser, lending a deep red splash of color. Readying it for him.

• • •

In his sector there were twenty garrison towns. A few were little more than bends in the road of less than a hundred people. All had their own charms in one way or another. But Silver Cliffs was not only beautiful, sitting up on the cliffs above the Highway, it had several farms, a river full of fish, woods full of game and two waterfalls that powered a mill.

There was a sense of plenty in Silver Cliffs that some other garrisons lacked. They took care of themselves and each other.

He took a leisurely walk up the hill from the garrison offices, his pack slung over his shoulder. The air was so clean up there.

Where Shelter City had thirty thousand residents—far more than Silver Cliffs’ five thousand—it had more industry, more traffic. More noise to the peaceful quiet in Silver Cliffs.

He’d grown up in the back streets, running games for his father to put food on the table.

He shoved that memory away. It’d be good to stay a night or two in Silver Cliffs before they headed for the last two stops, the northernmost garrisons on the Highway.

It seemed as if half the town was lined up at the mail window and the other half milled around inside the mercantile. He knew there’d be extra staff on to help Verity with the crush. Knew she’d be busy.

But he stood in line to see her at the mail office anyway.

He watched her, smiling here and there, scolding anyone who got impatient or rude, laughing and joking as she worked quickly and efficiently.

Nothing about her was wasted. He liked that. Though she did have an abundance of beauty, he noted she always made an effort to tame it when she was in public. Yearned, he could admit in his secret heart, to see all that flame-colored hair down, wild about her face. Desired to rest his hands at the curves hinting at the waist of her wide-legged trousers or the long skirts she wore on days like this one.

He thought of her often when he was out on the road. Miles of emptiness only broken by the memories of her scent, or the way she sounded when she laughed. Even times when he’d had to face the violence of the brigands she came to his mind. The personification of why he did what he did. To make it possible for Verity to continue on in their world.

She looked up and caught his gaze, her smile brightening. “Lawman, well met!”

He tipped his chin. “Good day, Ms. Coleman. I came to see if you had any lodging available.”

“Aye. Your room is ready. If you see any of the others, please inform them the bed and breakfast has three rooms available and the Sorens have beds available out at their farmstead as well. You can go on up when you’re ready.”

He tipped his head again. “Thank you.” He moved out of line and headed around back to the stairs leading to her living quarters. He liked that she trusted him enough to give him free rein in her personal space. Most did, of course. Lawmen occupied a revered part of the culture. The lawmen had served on the front lines against the brigands for generations. The populace understood that, respected that. Having one stay in your home was an honor and why he, a single man, would be allowed to stay here in a widow’s home without any raised brows.

Or, if there were any rumblings, they’d be kept quiet. The garrisons needed the lawmen to get delivery of goods from all up and down the Highway. Naturally, they’d all need to be put up when they came to town.

Some garrisons had hotels and other traveler lodging. Usually those closer to the capital city. Most had what Silver Cliffs had, rooms to let in various homes, sometimes beds at the garrison headquarters or police stations.

The others would know, of course, each having their favorite places to lodge. Trinity and Marcus would take one of the rooms at the bed and breakfast as they always stayed together. There was a bar down the other end of town, along with two cafes.

He wouldn’t need either, of course. He didn’t drink in public when he was on a ride. And Verity’s cooking would keep him well satisfied while he was in Silver Cliffs. He’d dine with her. Though she tried, always, to refuse his payment, saying without him, she’d lose business. He knew her store made months’ worth of revenue on the days an official transport came in. Knew too, she received a salary from the central governance to distribute the mail and be responsible for dissemination of official communication from them via the blip system she maintained in the office downstairs.

But he paid. As he always did elsewhere, though here it made a difference knowing it helped her.

At the top of the stairs his mouth watered as the scent of her kitchen hit. Herbs, some foul. Freshly baked bread. There was a basket on the nightstand in his room with a note that he should eat and bathe until she finished up downstairs.

Bathing sounded mighty fine, as it happened. They’d been on the road two days, having only briefly stopped just down the Highway in Table Mount to deliver fuel. They’d slept in their vehicles and tents as Table Mount was little more than a way station. They could have all slept in barracks, but Loyal preferred to be outside or in his vehicle instead of the confines of a barracks, weather permitting.

She had running water and a decent-sized tub. He ate a few of the corn patties and drank several glasses of water before he headed into her bathroom to wash the road from his skin.

• • •

When she’d finally finished with the mail, and knew there’d be another line up in the morning when she opened again, she headed into the store to help there. The first people allowed in were those who’d preordered goods. It kept the traffic manageable that first day of the deliveries.

And, she couldn’t lie, it also encouraged people to preorder and put down payments on goods, which kept her credit account healthy. She liked the numbers, liked knowing that should she ever need to up and leave Silver Cliffs, she had the means to do it. Liked knowing she’d be able to get herself on a travel list at some point too.

That didn’t mean she had the opportunity, not all the time anyway. But she liked having some options in any case.

The store bustled with business, customers wearing smiles as they took their paper-wrapped bundles from the counter. Her storeroom in the back was still full so she’d spend some time stocking after she closed up as well. But for now, she had plenty to do.

Constance worked alongside Tobin, going through the order cards and settling up accounts. Verity pulled out orders as she caught sight of people coming in. Constance’s husband, Emeril, also came in a few minutes later, after he’d left his job down at the credit office for the day. He worked there during the snow season but everyone cut hours back during planting and harvest time. They had a sizable plot of land and grew grain they ground at the mill and sold in town.

The mercantile had belonged to James, but it was hers since he’d gone and gotten himself killed three years before. Good riddance to him. And in that time, it not only became hers, but her nephew had come on as her assistant and her sister and brother-in-law helped on delivery days in exchange for goods.

Emeril was wary of her. She knew he didn’t like her curiosity. Had made multiple comments to Constance about how she needed to settle down and get married at last instead of flitting around town. But he was there to help and that’s what mattered.

She also liked knowing that right above them Loyal stretched out those long legs on the bed in her spare room. Or lounged naked in her tub. As she measured out fabric and cut it, wrapping it up for her customers, she went back to an old favorite fantasy.

One where she’d come upstairs and stand in the doorway to the bathroom. He’d look up, surprised, probably smoking one of his fancy cigars. But she’d put her finger to her lips to hush him up.

Each button at the neck of her blouse would come loose as he watched. Down, more and more of her skin would show and he would not move. He would only continue to watch her with those big pale blue eyes that were nearly the color of a snow sky.

She’d slide the blouse from her arms, letting it fall near the clothes he’d removed earlier.

The steam from the water would allow her to pretend they were somewhere far away. The hot springs in the hills above Silver Cliffs maybe. It didn’t matter, only that she’d pull her undergarments up and over her head.

Still smoking, he’d look at her, one corner of his mouth quirking up just a tiny bit.

A few buttons and her skirts would slide to her feet in a pool of fabric, leaving her in naught but her drawers, which she’d shed, standing utterly naked before him.

But she wouldn’t be a shy widow. No, she’d unbind her hair, shake it out and his pupils would swallow the color in his eyes. His lips would part and he’d hold a hand out. Urging her to step into the big tub and join him.

She’d take the cigar, maybe even take a long drag, letting the smoke inhabit her body. All while his lips cruised over her body, his hands caressing her.

“My goodness, Verity Coleman, whatever are you daydreaming about?”

Faith Ander patted Verity’s hand, tearing her from that fantasy and back into her life at the counter.

She blushed furiously.

“I must admit, Faith, I’m starving. I was thinking about the stew on my stove cooking nice and slow all day.”

She laughed and Faith joined her. “I imagine on delivery days you don’t get much time to have two thoughts in a row much less luncheon.”

Verity wrapped the cheerful yellow fabric up and grabbed the blue after she looked at the sheet Faith had brought along. Faith was a seamstress. In fact her clothes were sold in the mercantile all through the year.

“I am fair excited to see what you’ll be making with this blue. So pretty.”

“Have some skirts and dresses on order for the yellow. Thought the blue would compliment. I haven’t forgotten you either, Verity.” She patted the green already wrapped and ready to go. “This is for a skirt for you. I think the blue would make a pretty harvest season dress too.”

“Yes. Please.”

She chitchatted with more people, measured out dry goods and such until at last, long after the sun had begun to fall below the mountains beyond, they finally flipped the sign to Closed and she sent everyone home.