The young widow Nelson planned her trip to the General Store carefully. She decided on Monday afternoon, because it afforded the best chance to be the sole customer. She chose to wear the blue calico that she generally reserved for church, since it suited her complexion, and was snug against her bosom, never mind that it was modestly buttoned up the length of her chin. He never went to church, the man she most recently targeted as a prospective father for her young two sons, so had never seen her to proper advantage. She plucked a few curls out of the confines of her bonnet, and set off to town in her buggy.
If she was a bit surprised to find him cleaning his gun on the store counter when she entered, she was careful not to show it.
“I brought some eggs to sell.” She smiled and batted her eyes at the top of his head.
“Did you now?” The shopkeeper continued his task. “Hens must be laying uncommonly well to have extras, what between feeding the hired hand and those boys of yours.”
“Indeed they are.” She placed the basket of eggs beside his newly cleaned and assembled gun.
“Honestly I’d rather you sell me what you’ve been giving to the hired hand all those lonely nights on the ranch.”
She meant to pick up the basket and leave, she told herself later. She picked up the gun by accident. “Let me help you with that, ma’am”, said the sheriff, when he saw her struggling to put the body in the buggy.
She’d bury the storekeeper beside the hired hand after the boys were in bed. At least the roses would bloom well next summer.