The Sheriff's Sweetheart Read Online Free PDF

over at the saloon?”
    Her father cleared his throat. “I heard it—unfortunately it’s an all-too common occurrence. I assume no one was hurt?”
    Bishop shook his head. “Delbert Perry’s spending the night in the jail, Mayor Gilmore. Mr. Brookfield was kind enough to watch him so I could come to take supper with you.”
    Prissy clasped her hand to her neck in alarm. “Thank God you weren’t hurt!”
    â€œYou’re so kind to be concerned, Miss Prissy, but I assure you I was never in any danger. Mr. Brookfield and I disarmed him without too much trouble,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, causing her pulse to race and a flush to heat her cheeks. What was going on here?
    â€œDelbert Perry’s a harmless ne’er-do-well, except when he’s been drinking and takes his pistol to the saloon. I’ll expect you to come up with a plan to combat that, Mr. Bishop,” Mayor Gilmore said in a no-nonsense voice.
    â€œI’ll make that a priority, sir,” Bishop assured him in a tone that matched her father’s gravity.
    Flora bustled into the hallway, an immaculate lace-trimmed apron tied around her waist. “Supper is served, señores, señorita, ” she said, gesturing toward the dining room.
    As they settled themselves in their chairs, Prissy found herself studying Sam Bishop. He spoke to her father with real authority—he seemed like such an honorable man. She’d have to invite him to the church. He’d make a fine addition to their community.
    When Flora set down the meal, Houston sat up by Prissy’s place at the table, waving his paws in the air and staring at her with liquid appeal in his dark shoe-button eyes.
    â€œPrissy, I won’t have a dog begging at the table,” her father said sternly. “Make him go lie down.”
    â€œI’m sorry, sir. I’m afraid I allowed him to develop bad habits on the trail,” Bishop said, coming to her rescue. “It was just him and me, and I’d toss him tidbits as I ate. He knew he could get more if he sat up like that, the rascal.” He raised an arm and pointed to a spot on the floor awayfrom the table. “Houston, go lie down. ” His voice was firm, and to Prissy’s surprise, the dog immediately did as he was bid without a backward glance.
    Her father resumed the tale he’d been telling. “So as I was saying, Nick Brookfield, Dr. Walker and the rest of the posse went after Holt and the Gray Boys Gang and brought back Miss Sarah safe and sound. That ended the rustling sprees in these parts,” her father said.
    â€œSounds like I have tall boots to fill, sir,” Sam Bishop said, laying down his fork on the empty plate that now held only the remains of Flora’s chicken mole. “But I’ll do my very best.”
    â€œI have every confidence you will,” her father said, “if today is anything to go by.”
    I know you will, Prissy thought, sitting across from him at the long dining table, continuing to study Bishop while he spoke to her father. She wondered about his past, his childhood, where he’d grown up. And then she again wondered why she was wondering.
    Her father put down his glass and rubbed his chin, a sure sign he was about to mention something that troubled him. “One recent development that’s troubled me about this town has been the arrival of some undesirable types. You’ll need to be aware of them.”
    â€œGo on.”
    â€œThere’ve been a couple of gentlemen in these parts recently—real dandy types, fancy clothing, jeweled stickpins, brocaded waistcoats. They’ve brought with them a passel of drifters, hired guns. You know the type.”
    Sam nodded.
    â€œThe two fancy gents have bought a big ranch northeast of here, toward San Saba. From what I’ve heard, they’re turning it into quite an impressive estate. Nothing wrongwith that, but the rumor is,