by Glen L. Bledsoe
"Have you noticed how Sheriff Pete smells?" Lucy said.
"I try not to," Bud replied trying to be nonchalant.
"He smells like he fell into a perfume bottle," she said.
"You don't mean he's. 99
"No, of course not. Haven't you noticed the way he's hanging around Miss Jane with that silly looking on his face."
"Oh, that."
Lucy punched Bud lightly on the shoulder. "Yes, that!" she said.
(To understand why they're talking about see Sheriff Pete and the Bar of Soap.
Miss Jane down at Thompson's Hotel and Tavern said to Pete, "Sheriff, you know what this is?"
Sheriff Pete squinted at it for a moment and said, "It's a lady thing for sure. I can smell it."
"It's a manly thing, too," Miss Jane said.
"That wouldn't be a bar of soap would it?" he said. "If I tasted it I'd know for sure."
"It is indeed soap, Sheriff," Miss Jane said. "It comes from Boston and I bought a dozen bars."
"it don't look like Granny's soap," the Sheriff said.
"It's as different from Granny's soap as day is to night. I'm going loan you this bar. You go down to the crick, take your clothes off, wade into the water and you rub this all over your body. When you're all dried off, put your clothes back on and you come back here. I'll make it worth your while."
"Whatever you say, Miss Jane," the Sheriff said with a sliver of a grin.
