"All right, young man, this is the plan. I need to go into town and pick up some stock for the school as well as deliver some wares to the grocery store. Do you have a slate?"
"Yes, ma'am, I have it right here." Junior tapped his satchel.
As they traveled the road into town, Kamari used the time to play a game where they would name some of the things they passed along the way. Kamari was surprised at how much fun she was having and to discover how lonely the drive into work had been all these years. The time had gone by so quickly. Before she could process it, they were in town and she was pulling up outside the post office. She got down from the buggy, taking Junior with her.
"Are you feeling strong enough to carry a parcel for me?"
"Sure thing, ma'am. I'm plenty strong," Junior said and proceeded to raise his arms and flex his puny muscles.
Kamari laughed and rubbed the top of Junior's head. Junior lowered his arms and grinned back.
Junior looked across the street. "Oh look, Miss Kamari, there's Uncle Calvin," he said, followed by a wave. Kamari copied Junior’s movement, and Calvin waved back.
"Come on, young man. We don't have all day. We need to get done with our chores and get you into school."
She left Junior loading the school supplies on the buggy and went across the street to the general store, pausing outside the sheriff’s office where Cal and the sheriff were standing.
"You sure must have some persuasive powers there, Miss Faraday," the sheriff laughed and slapped Cal’s shoulder. "Never thought I'd see the day when Cassidy Dalton would trust his son in the care of anyone other than his brothers."
"I think Junior just plumb wore him out with his griping and moaning," Cal laughed. "Technically, the boy is still being cared for by me. Today will be his first day at Rilla’s school. Kamari is just bringing him in."
"Well if that's the case, Mr Dalton, I'll do my very best to ensure I get him there on your behalf. Now I must take my leave, sirs. These wares won't deliver themselves." She raised the box of hand crafted trinkets in her hands at the two men.
"It amazes me, Miss Faraday, how you manage to craft such beautiful items in the time you have available with all your teaching and traveling," the sheriff said, peeking into the box.
"It's amazing how much time one can find to explore one's interests when that time is not wasted standing on a street corner chatting. Have a nice day," Kamari continued as she walked to the general store. She handed the storekeeper the box, and he in turn gave her a box of goods.
Junior had already crossed the street and was standing with his uncle and the sheriff when Kamari exited the store. He ran up to her and held out his arms.
"I'll take those, Miss Kamari," he said with a smile. She was about to hand him the box when it was whisked from her hands.
"Well, well, well, what do you have here? Kami, is this young man my competition for your affections?" Butch Manson said, clutching the box to his chest. "Where would you be wanting these?"
"My name is Kamari not Kami. Although to you, Sir, it will always be Miss Faraday. If you will just give me my things back, I will be on my way."
Butch leaned in close to Kamari's ear. "You need to be more friendly. There's no telling what can happen to a woman out in the wilderness on her own without a man beside her. My offer to move into my ranch with me still stands."
Cal came across and plucked the box of goods out of Butch's hands. "Howdy, Butch. I don't believe Miss Faraday has time for your shenanigans and not in front of the boy." Cal handed the box of goods back to his nephew. "Here you go, Junior. See you get Miss Kamari to school safely now." He rubbed his nephew's head then guided him by the shoulder toward Kamari's buggy. He took Kamari's elbow and led her and his nephew back across the street to her little carriage wagon and loaded the goods.
"Have a care with that one," he whispered to Kamari, jotting his head toward where Butch still stood stony faced, staring after them.
"I will. Thanks for your assistance. I can take it from here," Kamari said, getting into the wagon with Junior. She only wished it were true. Butch Manson was becoming an everyday problem.
About the Author
Sandra E. Sinclair is a dreamer and hopeless romantic. Sandra grew up in London, England where the skies are often gray and the streets could be cleaner. However, she doesn’t let this dampen her spirits. She loves her hometown and considers herself a true-blue Londoner, who is happy to find her sunshine overseas, and she does as often as she can. It’s through traveling abroad that she finds her inspiration for her stories.
Her stories are designed to elicit every emotion in her readers. You will laugh, cry, be shocked, and titillated. The one thing you won’t be, is bored.
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Copyright © 2016 by Sandra E. Sinclair
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All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication maybe copied, reproduced in any format, modified, redistributed, or sold without prior consent of the author.
This book is a work of fiction, all the names, characters, places and incidents presented are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Love Letters (Unbridled Book 3) Page 13