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By Root 1106 0

proved to be as good a dancer as she said she was. Emily, while slightly stiff in her approach at first, was a fast learner and a natural when it came to memorizing complicated patterns of steps. After four hours of practice, Emily had then mechanics down pat, along with the infectious enthusiasm. The only thing missing to complete her look was a pair of two-toned brown leather cowboy boots, a cream-colored western style shirt with black piping and a stiff pair of dark denim jeans. Jane agreed and spent one hundred forty dollars of the Denver PD’s allowance on the outfit. The thrill of owning a genuine pair of line dancing cowboy boots consumed Emily for days, as did her attention to perfecting the various dance steps that Jane taught her. During those few days, it was as though a dark cloud had been lifted from Emily’s life. For the first time since her parent’s murder, she was free from the gloom and trauma.

Several days before the Peach Pit Days Carnival, Dan unexpectedly showed up at the house. It was late afternoon and Emily was on the front lawn, head focused on her feet as she ran through another set of dance steps.

“Well, look at the new line dancin’ queen!” Dan said, pulling his toolbox from the bed of the truck.

“Hi, Dan!” Emily said, a dreamy smile plastered across her face.

“You fixin’ to give those other line dancers some competition?”

“Nah. I’m just having fun.” Emily looked at his truck. “Is that new?”

“Yup,” Dan said patting his adhesive business logo that had just been secured to the side door.

Jane opened the front door and walked outside. “Dan got a new truck!” Emily exclaimed.

Jane had noticed his new acquisition from inside the house. “That must have set you back a bit,” Jane said, quickly realizing she sounded like one of those annoying small town hens.

“Actually, it didn’t set me back a penny. I do all the electrical maintenance for the Ford dealership over in Montrose. It’s one of my many side jobs. Anyway, instead of payin’ me, we worked out this agreement where they trade me a new dealer truck every summer. In the long run, I reckon I’m pullin’ the better end of the trade.”

“Hey, Dan!” Emily said with a grin. “You oughta work for a place that sells fishing equipment. Then you’d get all your stuff for free!”

“Say, I like that idea! And maybe I could convince them to throw in a boat!”

“Forget the boat!” Jane interjected. “I know someone who just got one and last I heard he was already investing in a new motor. It’s like they say, ‘boats are just big holes in the water into which you throw money.’ ”

“Okay, you convinced me. Hey, is that slidin’ door in the kitchen still stickin’?”

“Yeah. It worked for awhile after you fixed it, but I damn near couldn’t open it the other morning.”

Dan followed Jane into the kitchen and went to work. Jane observed that his mood was different when they were alone together. He looked down the hallway to make sure Emily was still outside. “You heard from your husband?”

Jane no longer found herself taking umbrage at Dan’s desire to protect her. “No.”

“You didn’t call him or anything?”

“What’s all this about?”

He seemed a bit embarrassed. “Look, you know that I’m not a busybody and I only want the best for you. I promised I would never tell a soul about your situation and I haven’t—”

“Cut to the chase, Dan,” Jane said abruptly.

Dan placed his tools back into the box and snapped it shut. “Aw . . .” he said, ashamed to say any more but knowing he had to. “I was eatin’ at The Harvest Café and I overheard Sheriff George talkin’ to someone about how he came up on you and Emily on the side of the road last Wednesday night and how Emily was throwin’ up ‘cause of some fruit she ate at Kathy’s shindig—”

“So? Is that the banner headline of this week’s Peachville Gazette?”

“The conversation got goin’ and the other fellow—he’s this farmer that has a place down the road a mile from The Pit Stop—anyway, he was sayin’ that he’s seen you talkin’ on the pay phone outside The Pit Stop late at night a couple times.”

Jane stiffened. “Is that illegal in Peachville?”