Keely wished for relief, but short of a dip upstream in Canyon Creek, which being mountain fed always felt cool, nothing could be done. She couldn't wade in town—too many prying, lascivious male eyes, too polluted with privy waste. And since the incident, she dared not wander anywhere. McCullough gave her free reign, though she felt him watching her, sensed his protectiveness. Her own fears kept her prisoner. Her worry didn't center on herself, but McCullough. Another slip up by her would endanger him. She looked out the window to the hot, dry hills. Even the white pines seemed to droop, weary in the heat. Dust covered the leaves of the underbrush like a sense of evil had floured the town. Keely shuddered in the heat and turned her thoughts elsewhere. Oh, for a sliver of ice! But the ice in the cellar had melted a month ago. There would be none until winter. The iceman from Wallace dared not come into town. Even train traffic had slowed to a near stop now that trouble seemed imminent.
