Page 6 of Auctioned to the Devil

“So that’s Caleb.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“The one everyone was staring at?”

“The very one.”

I spear a bite of pie. “He doesn’t talk much.”

“Nope.”

“Or smile.”

“Not often.”

“He grunted at me.”

Sally laughs so hard she has to grab the counter. “Oh, honey.”

“What?”

“You got a grunt?”

“Yes.”

“That’s practically a conversation.”

I stare at her. “You’re kidding.”

“Not even a little.”

I shake my head. “So what’s his deal?”

The laughter fades. Around us, conversations seem to quiet just a fraction. Sally notices too. She leans closer. “People around here call him the Devil.”

“Why?”

She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead she dries an already clean coffee mug. Finally she says, “Because some men earn reputations.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

“So nobody knows?”

“Oh, we know.”

“Then tell me.”

She meets my eyes. “If Caleb Mercer tells you to do something…” She pauses. “You’d be smart to listen.”

I lean back, unconvinced. “Sounds like everyone’s afraid of him.”

“Not exactly.” She smiles knowingly. “They’re grateful he’s on their side.”

Before I can ask another question, the bell over the front door jingles again.

A shadow crosses the window.