"You're probably right. Nonetheless, I'll check on her to make sure."
Roy chuckled again. "I'd make sure you give her a good shout and warn her it's you coming. Wouldn't want to see you lose six inches off your backside, would you?"
Buddy swallowed a hard lump in his throat. He wasn't sure if Roy was playing a joke. "You think she'd shoot at me?"
Roy shrugged. "Your butt, not mine."
Buddy snatched the canteen and took another long swallow.
"What's with you folks living out here, anyway?"
"What do you mean?"
"You live out here, far away from town, and alone. Don't you ever want a wife or family?"
Roy narrowed his eyes again and briefly contemplated Buddy's question. "Too old."
Exasperated, Buddy teased Roy. "You could always marry Ellie Jane Ferguson."
Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson were well into their fifties when their last daughter was born. Over twenty years earlier, the last of their older children had moved on with families of their own. It was obvious, though, that Ellie Jane was different than other children. Round-faced with droopy eyes, Ellie Jane rambled and slurred her speech like a small child, despite being almost thirty years old. People poked fun at Ellie Jane, but she just smiled acting as if she enjoyed their attention. Doe-eyed, Ellie Jane was defective from birth and had the mentality of a nine-year-old.
Roy frowned and sputtered, "That's not funny Buddy. Ellie Jane is a sweet girl."
The sheriff stood and lightly punched Roy in the shoulder. "Hey, I was just joshing. Don't be so serious."
"Buddy, it's not right to poke fun at people like that. What if it was you?"
"Okay, you're right. I'm sorry."
The two men stood in silence staring at the desert floor.
"Besides Roy, you never know, you might get lucky one day. Don't you miss the creature comforts of a woman?"
Roy's eyes drifted in the direction of the family burial plot beneath a massive cottonwood tree. Several headstones stood in quiet memory for the souls buried there. The names of three women were etched in stone as a vivid reminder for Roy. His thoughts drifted away.
Buddy nudged Roy. "Well?"
Roy's face became stern. "Nope."
As Roy continued to stare at the cemetery, Buddy slowly made his way back to the corral. After untying his horse, he jumped into the cart and quietly drove away. A small wisp of dust followed as he traveled down the trail.
Watching the sheriff drive away, Sally and Molly put their heads in the air and began to repeat their eerie chorus.
Approximately three miles west of Roy's place sat the Whittaker homestead. Many years earlier, Mr. Whittaker passed away leaving his wife to fend alone. A stout woman, Mrs. Whittaker was jovial and worked hard. Childless, she would dote on the town's children, often buying them candy from her meager savings.