“Farrie Fawcett?” The raspy voice turned ingratiating. “That’s a delicate subject, Sheriff. She gets about funny on those skinny little legs, don’t she? A regular little hobgobler. I’d be willing to turn her over to the county, see what they could do for her.”

Turn her over to the county? Buck choked down a surge of wrath. The cold-blooded old devil – the kid was his grandchild!

“Now Sheriff, let’s do some straight talking.” The voice in the doorway was sly. “In past days I have accommodated the law around heres to mutual benefit. Oh, not with your daddy, son – he was a man who shied away from anything that might even look like a purely good-hearted, generous gift with no strings attached.”

Buck suddenly stood up, his gun leveled at Devil Anse’s potbelly. “What’s this about my dad?” he growled.

The old man looked surprised. “Lord, son, didn’t I just say it ain’t got nothing to do with yore daddy, may God rest his soul? We’re talking about you. One thousand dollars, cash, and Scarlett’s yours.”

For a minute Buck was too stunned to speak. Then he felt a wash of red rage begin at his ears.

“Dirt cheap, too,” the old man added sincerely. “Considering the good amount of cash young Potter said he would throw in on top of the ninety-three Dodge.”

“You -” Buck began in a strangled voice.

His reaction plainly pleased Devil Anse.

“It’s a bargain, ain’t it?” The old man smiled a broken-toothed smile. “But Sheriff, I’m willing to make this sacrifice if it means a new, friendly feeling between this office and the Scraggs family business interests. I’ll be honest with you, boy, since you took over from yore daddy it’s been a real economic hardship for us in the Scraggs line of liquor services and auto parts supply. I want you to look at Scarlett as a public relations gesture of future goodwill and cooperation. On both sides.”

“Your family business interests? Is that what you call them?” A pulse was pounding in Buck’s head. “Liquor services and auto parts supply?”

“Son,” Devil Anse said gently, “words like ‘boot-legging’ and ‘car stealing’ are out of date, don’t you know that? Now Scarlett, if I tell her so, she’ll stay with you. And mark my words, yore bound to get yore money’s worth. No man’s laid a hand on -”

“Money’sworth?” Buck managed to bark. “You old viper! Are you trying to bribe a law-enforcement officer?”

He started around the desk, gun in hand. Devil Anse backed into the corridor.

“Sheriff, ‘bribe’ ’s an ugly word,” the old man protested. “I’d hoped not to hear words like that between us. Not about an honest little gift or two. The girl’s staying at yore house, ain’t she?”

Reluctantly, Buck stopped.

Devil Anse looked triumphant. “Didn’t think I knew? Well, no telling what’s already happened.” He gave a truly repulsive wink. “Why don’t you think of Scarlett as a – trial offer? Money back if you ain’t satisfied, as they say on TV? You keep her a while, and if she don’t give you -”

Buck was outraged by the sheer gall of the old man. He started for him. And tripped over Demon, who was under his feet.

“Dammit!” Buck exploded.

He staggered, stepped on the dog’s tail, and to the accompaniment of its anguished howls managed to reel forward and hit his shoulder on the doorjamb. But, thankfully, not his nose. In the outer office he could hear his deputy’s warning shouts, Madelyne’s shrieks.

When he looked up, the old man was gone. Buck stood rubbing his shoulder, wondering if he had hit it hard enough to fracture it. He couldn’t afford to be injured right now. Not with so much going on.

Worse, when he reviewed the conversation he’d just had with his visitor, he groaned. There was no doubt about it. Devil Anse Scraggs thought he had just made a deal.

Seven

Farrie patted the white turtleneck top stretched across her stomach. “I can wear this with the red skirt over there, can’t I, Scarlett?” she pleaded. “We wouldn’t be taking too much.”

Scarlett knew it wasn’t a matter of taking too many of the church’s clothes; it was simply that the top didn’t fit. When the boxes had arrived Farrie had hopped like a small skinny bird from one to another, trying on everything. To judge from what the Methodist church had sent they hadn’t expected someone her size. She was small for a nine-year-old. The minister’s daughter, Judy Heamstead, had gone back out to the car for another load of donated clothing.

“Come over here,” Scarlett told her. “Let’s try on something else.” She caught Farrie’s arm before she could scuttle away, grabbed the white knit top and pulled it over her head, leaving her little sister in nothing but her ragged underpants.

Ordinarily yanking Farrie’s clothes off like that would have brought on a fit of outraged screeching, but this time she hardly noticed. Farrie was living in another world, so happy, so charged up about everything that Scarlett knew it couldn’t last. She tossed the turtleneck into the pile of clothing that was rapidly becoming a small mountain on the Grissoms’ dining room floor.

Scarlett hadn’t mentioned Devil Anse’s visit to Farrie but it weighed on her mind. Ever since their grandpa had showed up on the Grissoms’ front porch wanting to get in, Scarlett had been unsure of how long they could really stay at the sheriff’s house. Farrie might be convinced that the big tough sheriff could handle anything, but she wasn’t so sure.

On the other hand, she told herself, Devil Anse might have come just to talk. If he’d come to take them away it could have been a whole lot different.

Still, she’d been jumpy as a cat all day long, thinking Devil Anse would come back at any minute. Or telephone. But nothing had happened.

“Oh, Scarlett, lookahere!” Farrie stepped into a pair of green corduroy overalls, hauling them up by the straps. The too-large pants almost swallowed her.

Scarlett sat back on her heels. The overalls had been made for somebody’s fat little kid, younger than her sister; there was even a duck embroidered on the bib.

“You’re supposed to wear a shirt with that,” she said. “You can’t go around with your bare shoulders and arms sticking out. Not in this weather.”

From the look on her little sister’s face nothing she could say would spoil her mood. They were surrounded by boxes from the church mixed with the Christmas decorations the sheriff’s mother had left behind. Farrie had gone from one clothing box to the other like a whirlwind. Some of the clothes, Scarlett had to admit, were nice. Some looked almost brand-new.

“What’s that?” With a cry, Farrie bent over a cardboard box to drag out a dress. When she held it up they could see it was a gown in a peach rayon satin, old, not in good condition. The sweetheart neckline was raveled and the taffeta flowers that decorated the skirt were so flattened that it was hard to tell at first what they were.

Scarlett frowned. “You don’t need that. It looks like something yore grandma would wear.”

Farrie pulled the dress over her head. The back gaped open where there were buttons she could not reach, and the squashed roses hung limply. As did the puffed sleeves. “Did you ever know my grandma?” She found a wide-brimmed straw hat with matching peach satin flowers and a huge bow in front with a rhinestone pin.

Farrie jammed it down over her ears. When she turned, arms held out, the ridiculous hat teetering, Scarlett had to smile.

“No, I never saw her.” Scarlett had always wondered about the woman who’d been foolhardy enough to marry Devil Anse, but their grandma had died long ago and now no one ever spoke of her. “You better take that thing off. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be, probably somebody’s old bridesmaid’s dress.”

Farrie came to stand in front of her. “What’s a bridesmaid’s dress?”

“You know what it is, we’ve seen ’em on TV.” She cupped one of the fabric roses in her hand. It must have been pretty once: the inside was just like a real flower with little imitation white and green stalks. “Rich people have big weddings where all the bride’s girlfriends dress up to be in the church with her when she gets married.”

Farrie flopped down on the floor beside her. “Oh Scarlett, you could have that, a big wedding with bridesmaids and all, if you married the sheriff.” She stroked a small hand down Scarlett’s sleeve coaxingly. “You’re so pretty, you’d make the best-looking bride.”

Scarlett pulled Farrie’s hand away. “I thought I told you to stop talking like that.” Scarlett was wearing a black cotton shirt that Judy Heamstead had cinched with a leather belt with a big brass buckle, and a pair of tight but becoming jeans she’d found in the clothing boxes. The minister’s daughter and Farrie hadn’t stopped talking about how good she looked.

“Go help yourself to more clothes,” Farrie urged. “There’s lots left. Look at all the things I found.”

Scarlett shook her head. She wasn’t going to go hog-wild. Jeans and a couple of shirts and sweaters were enough. She didn’t want to say it in front of Farrie, but she’d never liked wearing other people’s clothes. Everyone had their dream; for Farrie, it was to live in a big house with a bed with a ruffled tester, and have a real family. For Scarlett, who had worn used clothing most of her life, it was to have her own clothes. Just a few. But all new.

Judy Heamstead came in carrying two cardboard boxes stacked on top of each other. “Here,” she said, trying to see over them, “I hope these have got some shoes. These are sure heavy enough.”

Seeing no place to put them, Judy opened her arms and let the boxes drop to the floor. The minister’s daughter was seventeen and wore jeans with a huge oversized red sweater, a down jacket, and cowboy boots.