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

had vied for her affections, at least on the surface. In reality, most had been vying for a higher rank through an alliance with her father. A painful truth, but one that she’d accepted, and learned from.
    She studied the faces of Timber Ridge residents as they passed by on the other side of the window. Some she recognized, though she had yet to make their acquaintances.
    “Yes, ma’am, I’m just checking to see if those sights your husband ordered for me came in yet.”
    She recognized the voice instantly—just one aisle away—and peered over the shelf.
    “And if you have some gumballs, would you add those to my order too? A box of them, please, ma’am.”
    Elizabeth waited until Lyda Mullins left to fill the order before she quietly sidled up to the counter, knowing her presence would be about as welcome to this man as an invitation to attend one of her suffrage rallies.

8
    G umballs, Mr. Ranslett? Somehow I didn’t peg you as a man with a sweet tooth.”
    A faint grimace crossed his face when he saw her, but that was all the reaction she earned. “Miss Westbrook . . . I didn’t see you when I came in just now.”
    Elizabeth laughed. “Well, if that’s not the most honest response I’ve gotten in a while, I don’t know what is. But that’s all right, Mr. Ranslett. I’ll take honesty over pretense any day. Blunt is so much better. Saves everyone time.”
    He stared at her for a beat. “At least that’s something we see eye to eye on, ma’am.”
    He’d apparently bathed, because the wild smell from yesterday was gone, replaced by something still earthy but very pleasant. Either that or it had been the elk all along.
    Ben Mullins returned. “Miss Westbrook, I’ve got a question for you.” He gestured for her to follow him off to the side, then leaned closer. “I’m not sure that company sent the right thing. They sent bottles of syrup, like you said, but”—his voice lowered as he held out the bottle—“they’re labeled for children, ma’am.” His brows rose. “With teething problems?”
    Elizabeth shot a look at Ranslett to see if he was listening, but he didn’t seem to be paying her any mind. She couldn’t explain why, but she did not want to be seen as physically weak in front of him and therefore didn’t want him knowing that she took medicine. Everything about the man screamed strength and control, and she wanted to give the same impression.
    His gaze settled on something in the corner behind her. Curious, Elizabeth turned, and quickly ascertained the object of his stare. Angled against the wall was a mirror, and from her vantage point she could see his image from the chest down. Just as she reasoned he could see hers—from behind.
    As a test, she reached behind and smoothed a hand over her bustle. He quickly glanced away. She turned back, hiding her smile, and kept her voice soft. “They shipped the right medication, Mr. Mullins.” Seeing as the proprietor would be receiving future orders, she decided it best to tell him. “My physician in Washington prescribes this particular syrup for my lung ailment. I’ve taken it for several months now, and it’s actually working quite well. Even if I’m not the manufacturer’s intended consumer.”
    “Well, whattaya know . . .” He adjusted his glasses and read the label to himself, his lips moving silently. He nodded, and continued in their conspiratorial tones. “Lots of folks with breathing problems end up out here. Colorado’s air is good for the lungs, ma’am, has healing properties. So do our hot springs, they say. There’s a spring not far from the boardinghouse where you’re staying. You should try it out sometime.”
    “That’s what I’ve heard, and I fully intend to do just that.”
    “You’ve got three big crates in the back too. Came fragile packed. Must be the glass plates and chemicals you told me about.”
    It tickled her the way he was still whispering. “I’ll ask Josiah to pick them up this afternoon,