Cally And The Sheriff

And froze.

She had never seen anyone look so stunned. His eyes, staring first at her face, slowly trailed down her white nightgown to her bare feet and up again. He was obviously ignoring the shotgun. She considered lowering the gun now that she knew who the intruder was, but the look on his face was so strange she kept it where it was. “What are you doing here?” she asked, hoping to snap him out of his trance.

He didn’t answer. He was breathing hard, and she wondered if he had run some distance to seek shelter at her door. “Did you lose your horse?” she asked.

He blinked as if he had just awakened. “I put her in your barn.”

Cally scowled. He shouldn’t be out of breath from that short a run. Well, maybe if her yard was full of mud. She found herself disappointed in him, anyway. “Why are you out on a night like this?”

“I came to see you.” He spoke in a strange whisper. She wondered if he had caught cold.

“You’ve seen me. You can go.”

He was staring at her again. She decided he might be feverish. After a moment he spoke in that same strange whisper. “I’m not going back out in that storm.”

She nodded. Now she understood. He was afraid of storms. The shotgun was getting heavy, but she didn’t dare lower it. The look in his eyes made her stomach tremble. If he was afraid of storms why hadn’t he stayed home? “You expect to stay here?” That thought made more than her stomach tremble.

He took a step toward her. Her house was so small that he would be able to snatch her shotgun out of her hands if he moved any closer. “I’ll shoot!” she warned. She backed away as far as she could.

His expression changed from the strange fevered gaze to a flash of anger. “If you shoot me,” he said, his voice back to the one she recognized, “I’ll bleed. At this range, that shotgun will tear me in two and splatter blood and bone—”

He stopped abruptly, or she thought he did. The buzzing in her ears grew steadily louder as a black haze closed off her vision. Everything cleared just as quickly when she found herself leaning against Sheriff Haywood’s body, his arms wrapped around her. Her shotgun, of course, was gone. “That wasn’t fair,” she whispered.

“Hmm?” He drew away slightly and lifted her chin with his finger. “Are you all right?”

She could almost believe it was a sincere question. She found herself nodding. The odd fevered light was back in his eyes. It must be a catching kind of fever; she felt her own temperature rise.

“I’m all right. Just don’t talk about…you know.”

“Don’t threaten to shoot me,” he whispered, drawing closer as if he were afraid she couldn’t hear.

She knew she should pull away, but she wasn’t sure her legs were steady yet. She didn’t want to faint right here in front of him. She would let him hold her up a while longer. Meanwhile, she stared at him. How close did he think his lips had to be for her to hear?

Then his lips actually touched hers! It hadn’t occurred to her that he would want to kiss her! It was a strange sensation, his lips right against hers like that. They felt cool in spite of his fever and he smelled like the rain. She felt her stomach quiver while little shivers went down her legs and up her body.

He must have felt her legs shudder because now he held her much tighter. She clutched his coat, trying to still the trembling in her hands. Very slowly, he raised his head. She followed it up as far as her toes would stretch but eventually her lips were free.

He cleared his throat as he loosened his arms. “I can’t stay here.”

He released her rather suddenly, and she grabbed a chair to steady herself. Without looking at her again, he threw on his slicker and hat and vanished into the storm.

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