The wind outside howled like terror as a man strode into the saloon. Too dark to see his face— a bowler brim’s sloughed shadow obscured it anyway— but the metal badge on his chest, that six-pointed star, could only mean one thing. Naomi did not turn, but she did slide her eyes in the direction of the door.
She knew she was in no danger. The staff was paid to keep their mouths shut, and no sheriff would harm a lady anyhow. But the stiffness in her shoulders betrayed her.
The man eased himself onto a stool at the bar next to her and ordered a whiskey to match her own, one-third empty in front of her. Then he turned to her with a nod. “It’s quite late for a lady like yourself to be making an appearance in such a… disreputable establishment. Why, the mezuzah outside’s leaning like a drunkard, if you’ll pardon my saying so. Now if you’d indulge my curiosity, I’m itching to know what brings a woman like you to a place like this.”
She cut a glance to the side. He was a large man with a beard and an earnest face. But that star… “Just here for a drink,” she said cautiously. “And what about you?”
He bobbed his head. “Just a drink at the local watering hole. That’s quite a dress.”
It was. Sleeker than the modern style, with enough ruffles to make up for it, it showed off shoulders and chest alike. There was, she thought, something intimidating about a dress that had the chutzpah to distract men while concealing a number of pistols in its skirts.
“Why, thank you, though I daresay it’s not my typical style. You’d usually find me wearing something much more… modest.”
The sheriff chuckled, and a warm flush shot through her bare skin. “Modest, eh? You sure do seem like the type.”
“Indeed,” she said lightly, the corner of her mouth lifting. “Now, I don’t recall you telling me your name?”
“Isaac,” he answered, sweeping off his bowler hat. His face, though bearded, seemed to lack any trace of sternness or worry. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
“Naomi,” she said. “And the pleasure is mine. I don’t suppose you’re a long way from home, then, Isaac?”
“Not nearly so long as you might expect. I’ve been assigned to the sheriff’s office out here.”
“I thought,” began Naomi, nonchalantly, “we already had a sheriff.”
“That you did, ‘til a gruesome fellow known as the Beggar put a hole in his skull.”
“Ah.” Naomi delicately bit her lip to suppress a grimace, remembering her finger falling from the trigger, and all that blood leaking into the desert sand. She shifted her skirt ever so slightly to conceal the folded-up pocket where she kept her lucky six-shooter. “I do hope you found him and locked him up.”
Isaac’s eyes hardened. “If there’s one thing I’m not known for,” he said, “it’s failure. We’ll find him, Naomi. Believe me. This star—” Here he paused to tap the badge pinned to his coat. “It isn’t just for show. I’m here to help. To protect. Pikuach nefesh. It’s something I keep, well, close to my heart. Until the town is safe, it’s a good bet I won’t be sleeping at night.”
Naomi met his eyes— deep brown, echoes of desert sand. She thought, I’ll have to watch out for him. Better to keep him close.
“Then I know I, for one, will sleep better with you around,” she declared, and the profound, dark-edged smile Isaac gave her was enough to make her grin in return.