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didn’t know about
that but there was no arguing that Sheriff McNeil was very
handsome and very sexy with his lean hips, his long legs, and his
scuffed boots that seemed to scream I’m the real deal. He
had nice thick hair, good teeth, and those incredible eyes. His
looks were pure cashmere.
    But she thought he perhaps carried out the
duties of his office more like a polyester blend. When her father
had come to town, Jedidiah had been in charge, responsible for the
law and order. As far as she could tell, he’d done a damn poor job
of it. She wondered if the sheriff had ever figured out what had
happened in his town on December fifth, 1877.
    When her father, Averil, and she had been
debating the plan, her father had explained that he hadn’t wanted
Toomay’s body found near the saloon. He hadn’t wanted anybody to
connect the dead man with him. He’d quickly erased all memory of
the event from Delilah’s mind, sent her on her way with several
hundred dollars in her satchel, and arranged for Toomay’s
body to be in a deep ditch, outside of town. And then he’d gotten
on his horse and ridden out of town. And tried to forget. About
Rantaan Toomay. About the curse. But he never had because in his
soul, he’d known it was true.
    Bella and her aunt passed an unpainted wood
building with its door wide open. She looked inside and could see
the sparks from a hearth and could hear the pounding of metal on
metal. It smelled even worse than the time she’d ironed her rayon
dress on high.
    Next they crossed a wide alley. Then they
breezed past the saloon, with its swinging doors and big glass
windows. It looked like it had been plunked out of a movie set.
Bella wanted desperately to stop, to acquaint herself with the
place where her father had encountered the Bad Magic, but she
didn’t know how to explain her sudden interest to her aunt.
    Next to the saloon was Stroganhaufer’s
Mercantile, which Aunt Freida waved a hand toward and said, “I’ll
show you my store tomorrow.” They continued on and passed a bigger
building, at least two stories, with nice windows and painted trim,
that had a sign that proclaimed it the Mantosa Hotel .
    She was glad she’d come a few days early. It
would help her get the lay of the land. Her father, Averil, and she
had agreed that she needed to be in Mantosa before Toomay showed
up. He’d have no way of knowing that she wasn’t originally from the
area, no reason not to trust her. Then, on December fifth, before
he ever started playing that card game, she was going to lure him
aside and do the deed. She patted the pocket that Averil had
carefully sewed into her long skirt. She could feel the small,
round cylinder that held the pain pills that Averil had gotten when
she’d filled her prescription. Once she mixed the pills with a
bottle of whiskey, Toomay wouldn’t know what hit him.
    Her aunt pointed to a building across the
street. “We’re headed that way,” she said.
    The building looked like a big barn. Above
the wide doorway, someone had nailed letters into the coarse wood. Livery . The Y had lost a nail and hung at an angle. The
smell knocked her back when they entered. It was the
throat-clogging scent of dirt, the eye-watering smell of what was
probably horse poop, and then something a little sweeter. She
figured that might be hay or straw or whatever it was that horses
ate or slept on.
    There were stalls around the perimeter, and
horses in more than half of them. Several wagons were parked
inside, too. One had two horses hitched up to it.
    Directly in front of them, a man knelt next
to a horse. He held one foot in his big hand and used the other
hand to nail on a new shoe.
    She hoped he did a better job with the horse
than on his sign. Otherwise, the poor thing would be lopsided for
the next month.
    “Afternoon, Wymer,” Aunt Freida called
out.
    “Afternoon, Freida. I got your rig ready,” he
said, nodding his head toward the wagon with the horse.
    “Thank you. This is my