Desert Bandits by Cindy Davis

Author:Cindy Davis [Davis, Cindy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult
Publisher: L&L Dreamspell
Published: 2010-06-14T00:00:00+00:00

At home, baskets of winter squash blocked the door to the barn. Amanda sat on a crate wiping crusted dirt from each one with a rag. Sarah skipped around the yard waving her rag in the air telling Amanda it was a giant eagle come to eat her.

“Haw! Haw!” she screeched over and over, whacking Amanda on the back of the head.

“Sarah, you better sit down and help me clean these. Mother won’t be too happy if she sees you.”

Sarah ignored Amanda. The only time she paid attention to anything either of us said was if it had to do with eating.

I sighed, picked up a bushel of the clean squash and carried it to the wagon. I ran a finger over a fresh scrape-mark on the wagon bed made by our treasure chest and thought about the women’s clothing, and the jewelry.

Wouldn’t Matt be surprised to learn about the jewelry? He still thought the box contained women’s clothing.

I jumped seeing my father’s shoes standing next to my thigh. “What are you doing?” he asked.

Amanda laughed. “Daydreaming again.”

“I was not!” I protested. To my father, I said, “Do you want me to take these to town in the morning?”

“Yes, please. Joe Condon is expecting them at the store. Your mother has several dozen eggs to go also. And, I have an order for supplies from back East that you could take to the stage office.”

“Okay. How much of this do you want in the root cellar this year?”

“Check with your mother. That’s her department.”

I stood up and hefted another basket. Father followed me to the wagon carrying a basket of his own. We set them on the bed side by side. This seemed like a good time to ask questions without prying ears.

“What do you know about Sheriff Benson?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

“Where does he come from and all that?”

“Why do you ask?”

I shrugged. The guys and I were talking, is all.”

“I don’t know much. I know he came to Cattle Creek from someplace in Mississippi. He’s a widower with no children.”

“Who hires a sheriff?”

Father frowned. “Hires?”

“Yes, I know he doesn’t just come to town and say, ‘hey folks, I want this job.’ Who decides?”

“In a small town like ours it’s generally done by popular opinion. In the cities they vote on it.”

I hadn’t really learned much. Father was getting suspicious though. If he started interrogating me I wouldn’t be able to hold out and I’d tell him the whole truth about recent events.

Usually I hated running errands in town. This trip would be welcome, a chance to listen and learn and ask more questions. The new plan became: ask a lot of people one question each. That way nobody would be suspicious and maybe I’d have some answers.

“Jesse!” The tone of my mother’s voice made Father and I go running to the back of the house. Mother stood on the porch with my wet pants in her hand. “What’s this?”

“Um, pants?” I knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted but I had no other.

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