LITMIR.BIZ

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started loading. “Are there many Basque here?”

      “Hmm.”

      Possibly an affirmative. Madeline had never met a person of Basque descent before. Fascinating culture, though.

      After paying for her groceries, she tried one more time to be friendly, primarily because the mercantile was the only game in town. “I’m impressed with the wide array of merchandise you have here.”

      “I do try to keep an array,” the woman agreed sourly. She handed Madeline her change, then stepped out from behind the counter and headed for the back of the store without another word. Madeline watched her go.

      Tough crowd.

      A few minutes later, Madeline stepped inside the post office cautiously. But unlike Anne McKirk, the postmistress beamed when she saw a new face cross the threshold. A Christmas wreath pin blinked on the woman’s green sweater as she opened the gate separating the business area from the lobby.

      “Hi,” Madeline said, taking advantage of the first sign of friendliness she’d encountered since arriving in the eastern part of Nevada. “I’m Madeline Blaine, Ty Hopewell’s ranching partner.” It sounded ridiculous coming from her lips, but it was the truth. She was a partner and their business was ranching.

      “You must be Skip’s sister. I’m so very sorry about your loss.” The woman instantly closed the distance between them and enveloped her in a hug.

      “Uh, yes. Thank you.” Madeline wasn’t a big hugger, except with close friends and family under highly emotional circumstances, but she appreciated the sentiment behind the gesture.

      “We all liked Skip very much.” She ran a quick eye over Madeline, making her once again aware how out of place her teaching clothes were and how little she resembled her brother, both physically and psychologically. But this lady didn’t seem to find as much fault with her as Anne McKirk.

      “Thank you,” Madeline repeated. “How would I go about getting mail while I’m here. I’ll probably only be here a matter of weeks, so if I could rent a box for a month—”

      “Oh, good heavens, no.”

      “Uh…”

      “All the boxes are rented. You simply have your mail sent here to general delivery and I’ll make sure you get it. If you leave your phone number, I’ll give you a call whenever you get something.”

      Wow. Talk about service. Only one small problem. “My phone doesn’t work at the ranch.”

      “Do you have an iPhone?” the postmistress guessed. “You must, because that service provider isn’t available in this area. If it was, I’d have one of those phones in a heartbeat.”

      “Yes, they are nice,” Madeline agreed. Just not around here.

      “I’ll call Ty if you get mail.”

      “Thanks,” Madeline said, realizing this was her only option. It wouldn’t kill Ty to let her know if she had mail, and she didn’t foresee getting any. All she was doing was covering her bases, just in case Everett needed to send legal documents or something related to the case.

      “So, how is Ty doing?” There was obvious concern in the postmistress’s voice.

      “Umm, he seems…” Cranky? Off-putting? Madeline shrugged helplessly, hoping it was answer enough. The postmistress appeared satisfied.

      “We’ve been worried about him. His dad lived in the area and Ty used to visit during the holidays while he was growing up.”

      “His father’s a local?”

      “Ty’s family has a long legacy here. In fact, your ranch was one of the original Hopewell properties. I know he was happy to buy it back.”

      “I bet he was,” Madeline said drily, tucking that in formation away.

      “He attended community functions when he first moved here, but after the accident…well…like I said.

      We’ve been worried.”

      “I’ll pass that along.”

      The postmistress’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Don’t do that. We’ll never see him if you do. Ty’s shy, you know.”

      No, she didn’t know. Did shy people snap at their business partners and accuse them of going for the jugular—which was a ridiculous accusation? Madeline faked a smile. “Mum’s the word,” she agreed.

      “Thank you.” The woman beamed, satisfied that her concern was still a secret. “By the way, my name is Susan. Why don’t you take a look at our community bulletin board over there by the window and see if there’s anything that might interest you while you’re here. We’re going to have our school Christmas pageant in two weeks and then there’s the community Christmas party in the park. That’s always a lovely event.”

      Madeline did peruse the board, which was neatly organized, each flyer and card carefully dated. There were items for sale—a goat that was specifically noted as being a pet goat, not an eating goat; an aluminum fishing boat that needed to be patched; a barely used dinette set that hadn’t fit into the newlyweds’ small trailer. A guy named Manny would clean your chimney and someone named Toni would tutor kids in math. There was a quilting club and a crafts club—new members welcome. Madeline wondered how many new members there could be in such a closed environment.

      “Oh!” she exclaimed, causing Susan to look up at her. “I need to find some firewood.”

      The postmistress shook her head. “You’ll have to go to the feed store in Wesley for that.”

      “I can’t order and have it delivered?”

      Another shake of the head. “Not unless you want to pay an arm and a leg.”

      An arm and a leg didn’t sound like such a bad asking price for warmth.

      “No one local has wood?”

      Susan reached under the counter and pulled out a 4x6 card. “Let’s make an ad.” She passed the card and a marker to Madeline, who hesitated for only a moment before writing “Wanted: firewood. Half a cord will suffice.”

      As soon as she’d done so, she wished she hadn’t written the word suffice. “I don’t know Ty’s phone number.”

      Susan smiled as she handed her an oversize, laminated paper that apparently served as the local phone book. There were approximately a hundred names in alphabetical order. Madeline wrote Ty’s number on the ad.

      “Shall I hang it?”

      “No. I’ll do that. You’d better get back up that mountain if you’re going to beat the storm.

      “I will. Thank you for all your help.”

      “Oh, Madeline…” Susan called from behind the counter. “Ty has some mail. Would you like to take it to him?”

      “Sure.” What else could she say? But as Madeline took the bundle, she couldn’t help but wonder if she and Susan were committing a federal crime. Could mail be released to just anyone? If Susan wasn’t going to tell, neither was she.

      TY CHECKED THE COW TWICE before Sam finally showed up—thankfully, an hour early.

      “Did you happen to see a small car in a snowbank on your way up?” he asked the vet conversationally.

      “No, but there was a strange car in front of the post office. A blue Subaru.”

      So she’d made it to town. Would she make it back before the snow started? He hoped so. He had stuff to do, a cow to move.

      He and Sam rode the tractor out to where the cow lay, and then Sam went to work examining the animal, which still gave no response.

      “You’re right. Calving paralysis,” Sam finally said. “Do you want me to autopsy the calf?”

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