Free Tamera Alexander - [Timber Ridge Reflections 01] by From a Distance Page A

South lingered in his voice, like another man she’d met recently. “The pleasure’s mine, Sheriff. And should I be impressed or frightened that you already know my name?”
    “Neither, ma’am.” His soft laugh was convincing. “I just consider it part of my job to know who’s coming and going through town.” He considered her as he slipped an arm around Rachel Boyd’s shoulders. “You’re from our nation’s capital, and from what I’ve observed, you have a particular interest in photographing our mountains. An uncommon pursuit for a woman.”
    “Very good, Sheriff. And yes, I do nurture a love for photography. It’s a hobby I’ve studied for several years.”
    “James . . .” Rachel looked between them. “Miss Westbrook has agreed to come to the house and photograph Mitchell and Kurt.”
    Brief surprise lit his face. “Well, that’s a fine idea. My nephews are good-looking boys, Miss Westbrook. I think your camera will take to their likenesses real quick, if they’ll sit still long enough for you to catch them.”
    “I’m sure I’ll find some way to persuade them.” Although Elizabeth had no idea how. She’d agreed to the request only for Rachel Boyd’s sake. Being in the company of someone grieving made people promise things they might not otherwise, in hopes of easing their pain.
    Rachel reached out and grasped her hand.
    Taken aback, Elizabeth stole a look at the sheriff, who seemed as surprised as she was.
    Rachel’s grip—not really a handshake, more like a clasping—was gentle and womanly, so different from what Elizabeth had worked to develop with her male peers. “I admire you, Miss Westbrook. It takes courage to leave your home and come to a place like this. And then to offer to share your gift with us . . . expecting nothing in return.”
    The tears in Rachel’s eyes prompted a weight to settle in Elizabeth’s chest. She silently accepted the praise while knowing herself unworthy of it. She’d hardly come to Timber Ridge expecting nothing in return.
    Rachel was delicate in every way that Elizabeth was not. Her flawless ivory complexion, the way she moved—even her features seemed to have been crafted by a smaller, more skillful hand. And not a corkscrew curl on the woman’s head. Elizabeth had always felt ill at ease around such women. Until now.
    Rachel squeezed her hand one last time before letting go, and seemed to come closer to remembering how to smile before once again abandoning the effort.
    Sheriff McPherson gently held Rachel’s arm. “At your convenience, Miss Westbrook, please stop by the sheriff ’s office. It’s just two streets over, on the right, and we’ll arrange a day for me to escort you out to the house.”
    “I’ll do that, Sheriff. Thank you.”
    Elizabeth followed their progress out the door and then walked to the front window and watched Sheriff McPherson assist Mrs. Boyd into the wagon. As they drove away, she spotted two redheads over the wall of the wagon bed but couldn’t see the boys’ faces. The wagon rounded the corner at the far end of the street.
    The kindness in James McPherson’s face coupled with the strength of his stature made for an odd, but powerful, combination. Especially for a lawman in such an untamed territory. If she’d been the melting type, she might have considered it a few minutes ago, but she had yet to meet a man who even came close to sweeping her away. Her career had become her companion and was filling that place inside her, satisfyingly so.
    Tillie’s oft-repeated mantra about the wisdom of remaining single came to mind. “It takes an awfully good man . . . to beat no man at all.” Elizabeth had been well into womanhood before comprehending the meaning of the saying, but life’s experiences had proven the counsel trustworthy.
    It didn’t erase the loneliness she still sometimes felt, especially late at night, but it made it more bearable when she imagined being wife to one of the many ambitious soldiers who