Every Perfect Gift Read Online Free Page A

across the lawns like pearls across a tapestry.
    At the end of the afternoon, he had invited her to pay a return visit. Already she looked forward to it.
    “Evening, Miss Caldwell.” The hotel clerk handed her a stack of letters. “Mail came today.”
    “Thank you.” She flipped though the stack, looking for an envelope bearing Ada’s neat handwriting. A letter from home would be the perfect ending to this auspicious day, even though Ada’s descriptions of everything going on at the ranch—Wade and Lilly’s antics, Wyatt’s latest cattle-buying trips—made her long for the familiar.
    “Miss Lucy Partridge from over at the ladies’ hotel came by to tell you your room is ready. You can move in anytime.” He pulled a face. “Sure will miss you, but I reckon it’s more proper for you to live at the Verandah.”
    “So I’m told.” Personally she saw no purpose in having to move. Wasn’t one hotel like another? But Wyatt and Ada had insisted shelive at the Verandah. At one time she could have lived in the house Wyatt inherited from his Aunt Lillian and deeded to Ada before their marriage. But Ada had sold the house the year before and donated the money to the Ladies Suffrage Society. Even if it were available, it sat seven miles from town, too far to make living there practical. So the Verandah it was. She tucked away her mail and headed for the stairs.
    “Oh, miss,” the clerk said. “I nearly forgot. Railway agent says your shipment arrived this afternoon. You need to arrange for a delivery.”
    “I will. Thank you, Mr. Foster.”
    “You don’t want any dinner, miss? Before the dining room closes?”
    “I had tea at Blue Smoke. I’m not really very hungry.”
    He whistled. “Well, well. Tea at Blue Smoke. Is it as fancy as people say?”
    “Yes. It’s very grand.”
    The clerk grinned. “Too fancy for my blood. But I don’t reckon I ought to worry about it. Ain’t likely that ordinary folks like me can afford to stay there anyway. I can’t—”
    The door crashed open, and a disheveled man ran inside brandishing a shotgun. The clerk spun around. “Lord have mercy, Trotter. What in the world’s going on?”
    “Sheriff McCracken says to round up every man you can find and git on up to Blue Smoke. They’s a riot going on.”
    The clerk darted from behind the desk. “You’ll have to excuse me, miss. I got to go.”
    A riot? Sophie’s reporter’s instincts kicked in. Everything this afternoon had seemed so calm. What could have triggered such a disturbance?
    She stuffed her mail into her reticule and drew her shawl tightly about her shoulders.
    “I’m coming with you.”

THREE
    Sophie followed the clerk and Mr. Trotter into the street where half a dozen men were gathered by torchlight, rounding up horses and guns. In the middle of the chaos stood Sheriff Eli McCracken, barking orders.
    “Hurry up with those—” He broke off when he spied Sophie standing next to Mr. Foster, her notebook propped on the hitching rail outside the inn. “What in the name of all that is holy are you doing here?”
    Her pen stilled. “Reporting on the riot, of course. There isn’t time to retrieve my rig. I’ll have to ride up to Blue Smoke with one of you.”
    McCracken shook his head. “Absolutely not. Wyatt Caldwell would have my head on a platter if you got hurt.”
    “Sheriff?” Mr. Trotter jammed his brown felt hat onto his head and swung into his saddle. “We ought to get going.”
    “I couldn’t agree more.” Sophie snapped her notebook shut and looked up at Wyatt’s old friend. “I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe with you.”
    “Out of the question.” McCracken mounted up, saddle leather creaking, a torch in one hand. “Let’s head out,” he called. “Trotter, Foster, you two take the lead. The rest of you, follow me. We’ll take the old logging trail and come in from behind.”
    Sophie grabbed the reins. “Then I suppose I’ll have to take whatever mount is available from the