Free Crazy Woman Creek by Virginia Welch

entertainment in the street. The ranch hands were still fussing with the horse, but the crowd around them was a little thinner now.
    “Right where?”
    “There, passed out by his horse.”
    Lenora turned back to look at the street. As she did, a bouquet of her exquisite cologne, as sweet as a basket of Georgia peaches, wafted into Luke’s nostrils . I bet she perfumes her hair. A woman who smells this good could make a man give it all away for just one night. Luke shook himself. He must keep his mind on his work. If he was not careful, his investigation of Mrs. Rose would become as dubious as the fox’s guard duty over the henhouse.
    At times he worried it already had.
    “The big one is his friend, Buck Jennings. He’s the mean one of the three. The little one is Mitchell Pendergrass, also known as Pea-Pod Pendergrass. All part-time itinerant ranch hands, part-time jail birds.”
    “Oh,” she said. “I guess I’d better wait till he’s sober.” Then Lenora turned again and stared at the drunken man a moment, as if the knowledge of who he really was had trouble sinking its way into her mind.
    “Good idea.”
    “The general store,” she said, still staring at Sam Wright, “then home.”
    Together they walked the few doors down Main Street to Aeschelman’s Mercantile. A bell tinkled over the door as they stepped into the cool and dusty retail shop. After a few seconds its proprietor, Mr. Faustus Aeschelman, appeared from behind a rough brown curtain that separated the rear storage area from the shelves heavy laden with sundry foodstuffs and dry goods.
    Aeschelman’s was a feast for the eyes, a dazzling cornucopia of material delights for adults and children alike. Every surface—even the ceiling where Mr. Aeschelman had suspended odd-shaped items too difficult to crate—called to the shopper to handle, taste, or smell. Barrels, boxes, and tins of foodstuffs, farm and household tools, bolts of cloth and boxes of sewing notions, toys and dolls, and colorful glass jars of various candies, hard and soft, were crowded into this marvelous emporium. All those sweet and savory smells mingled together to create a shopping sensation that could only be described as musty goodness.
    After the duo had exchanged the usual greetings with the storekeeper, Lenora ordered what she came for and waited while Mr. Aeschelman assembled her purchases on the scuffed oak counter and rang up the sale. Luke stood by silently, watching and waiting like a body guard hovering around his assignment. Mr. Aeschelman glanced at him occasionally, as if he were searching for a clue as to why they were shopping together, but Luke’s eyes gave nothing away. He kept his eyes on Lenora most of the time. 
    “I’m so very sorry about your wife, Mr. Aeschelman. Aleida was a saint.” Lenora accepted her change from Mr. Aeschelman and dropped the coins with a muffled clink into her bag.
    “She angel now,” said the plump German proprietor as he pointed toward Heaven. The forlorn widower smiled behind his frothy white beard, but his smile did not reach his eyes. He said no more as his sausage-like fingers assembled Lenora’s purchases into a tight bundle: coffee, sugar, ten yards of lustrous daffodil taffeta and thread to match. She watched him cut a length of stiff brown paper, place her purchases in the center, and then expertly fold and refold the edges into a neat package. He secured it with firmly twine.
    “You gave her a beautiful farewell, Mr. Aeschelman. Aleida liked pretty things. She wouldn’t have been disappointed.”
    Mr. Aeschelman looked stricken, nodded silently, and pushed the package toward Lenora. Luke picked it up before she could reach for it, nodded to the storekeeper, and he and Lenora left the store, the bell over the door tinkling as they exited.
    After the shadowy interior of the mercantile the noon sunshine seemed very bright. Few shoppers were in the street because it was time for the noon meal for most folks. Luke