Kelly called once the laundry was in the dryer.
“I saw the robbery on the news. Are you all right?” she asked, her voice laced with worry.
The local TV station was small-time. As in teensy tiny. Not that they weren’t good. They, thankfully, didn’t have a lot of news to cover. Not much bad stuff happened in Bozeman, one of the reasons I liked living here. It hit on the current news around town, which, most of the time involved crop rotation, deep freezes and triplet calves. The excitement of the day had been a toss-up between the Best in Class awards for poultry at the county fair and the convenience store robbery.
“I’m fine. Scary.” I was in the kitchen getting a snack. Cheese and crackers. I had the phone tucked between my ear and my shoulder while I sliced some Monterey Jack and laid
