Wife Wanted in Dry Creek by Janet Tronstad Page A

married Walker. She didn’t want to feel the distress she knew was coming when Leanne became unhappy living on the reservation.
    The cold rain hit Katrina in the face when she left the sheltered area around the gas station pumps. She moved closer to Conrad’s warmth. Her sister accused her of shying away from strong emotions. She willingly admitted it. Her emotions were too messy. She had to stay away from them—it’s what kept her in balance.
    “You forgot your Closed sign,” she murmured to Conrad as he put an arm around her shoulder. “People won’t know you’re not here.”
    “Shh, it’s okay,” Conrad said. They came to the end of the concrete and he moved his arm away from her. She didn’t have time to miss it, though, because then he lifted her effortlessly as he had done before and settled her against his chest. He carried her through the rain toa white picket fence. The gate opened easily and he walked up to a plain two-story house with dormant rose bushes on each side of the front porch. They reminded her of the Huntington roses she hadn’t planted.
    And then she suddenly realized the condition she was in. “I can’t go to your aunt’s. I don’t have any shoes on—no clean ones anyway.”
    Conrad gave a soft laugh. “My aunt Edith is perfectly able to cope with missing shoes.”
    “But the sheriff—”
    “She can cope with that, too.”
    He knocked on the door and moments later Edith opened it with a smile. Warm air and the smell of ginger welcomed them inside.
    “It feels like home,” Katrina said with a sigh. She felt hope for the first time in hours. Maybe things would turn out all right. If only the sheriff could find her sister. And Conrad would continue being nice to her. And Edith turned out to be everything her smile promised.

Chapter Six
    I t was four o’clock before the sheriff came to the door. By that time, Katrina had stood at the kitchen counter in hand-knitted slippers and squeezed out scrolls of yellow frosting hair on thirty-seven gingerbread men who were lined up on a white dish towel. Once Edith found out she was from Los Angeles, the older woman suggested they make their cookies into beach surfer men. Katrina had to admit they were cute. Edith had even made gingerbread surfboards for them to carry and the two women had giggled together as they frosted them in beach colors.
    The ring of the doorbell changed all that, though. Edith dried her hands on her apron to go answer the door, but then they could both hear the door open without her. Conrad had been working, but he apparently closed his gas station early because he was walking in with the sheriff. The voices of both men could be heard as they came through the living room.
    Katrina felt her stomach knot up. “I suppose they’ve heard something about that blood.”
    “You’ll be fine.” Edith reached out to hold Katrina’s hand. “I know you told the sheriff everything you knew, but it’s not too late to say you want to have a lawyer with you.”
    Katrina squeezed the older woman’s hand. Sitting in this kitchen had made Katrina miss her mother. She’d been twelve when both her parents died. Before that, they had always been too busy with church work to spend much time with anything domestic. She’d never made gingerbread men or sat and discussed what kind of curtains someone should make for their dining room. Maybe, she thought to herself, she was really missing the mother she’d always wanted to have.
    “I’m fine without a lawyer,” Katrina said and then added shyly, “But I’d like you to sit with me.”
    Edith’s eyes brightened and she blinked. “Of course, dear.”
    Then she took off her apron. “We’ll go sit in the dining room.”
    There were no curtains on the windows, but the shades were drawn so it was darker than the other rooms. Edith switched on an overhead light and the room was filled with a warm glow. A large mahogany table sat in the middle of the room with six matching chairs