Her Cowboy Sheriff

by Leigh Riker

  He could imagine Cooper’s smile. “I keep hoping you’ll follow my advice.”

  But Finn couldn’t do that, not before he found justice for Caro and Alex. Maybe not even then. “Not going to happen, partner.” Finn hesitated, his throat feeling tight. “Miss you anyway,” he said. “Good luck with Sanchez’s girlfriend. Thanks again, Cooper.”

  “No need to thank me yet. Miss you too. I’ll be in touch.”

  For a long moment after they hung up, he sat in his cruiser—safe and sound in Stewart County, Kansas—half yearning again for his more exciting job in Illinois even if that would mean revisiting memories. Then he shook off the thought, and slipped the car into gear.

  Was it really about safety here, trying to make a different, if lonely, life for himself—or was he simply hiding out, letting Cooper do the job?

  Before he drove away, he glimpsed another shadow inside the house. Annabelle coming to the bottom of the stairs, alone? He wondered if, without Emmie, she would feel as isolated as he did without Alex and Caro. Or was she still as eager to leave Barren as he thought? There was nothing he could do to stop her, or to keep her from giving up Emmie if that was what Annabelle decided.

  For a second he resented her for wanting to find Emmie’s dad and escape her family. All Finn wanted was for life to be the way it had been before those shots rang out. Nothing would, or could, bring back the wife he’d loved, the kid he’d adored. His world had crumbled then, and he couldn’t see buying a new place, as Cooper had suggested, putting the pieces together again.

  His grip tightened on the steering wheel, and he turned the cruiser toward the next place of business on his security checklist for the night.

  He should keep his mind on finding him and Sarge a new place to live.

  Keep his mind on the simple stuff. Block out the rest.

  Including Annabelle and Emmie.

  * * *

  GIRLS’ NIGHT OUT would usually have been held at Annabelle’s Diner, but tonight they’d decided to gather at the Circle H. On the drive from town, Emmie had chattered away in her rear car seat, excited to be going to Nick’s house.

  “He has horses,” Emmie kept saying in a tone of wonder. “I ride ’em.”

  “Maybe not today,” Annabelle said. Unlike many of her friends in this ranching community, she’d been raised, as Nell pointed out, in town and wasn’t familiar with horses.

  “Nick’s horse name He-wo.”

  “That’s Hero, sweetie.”

  “He lets me ride now.”

  Annabelle considered trying to dissuade her but didn’t want to turn a small disagreement into a full-blown tantrum. A three-year-old was a highly volatile creature, Annabelle had learned, and as they reached the ranch house the sun was setting behind the barn. Soon it would be dark. No one would be riding then. If Annabelle needed backup, she had her friends. How would she feel when she finally left them behind, along with Barren? How would she feel about finally letting go of her crush on Finn?

  “Hey, Belle.” Blossom met them at the door. “Who’s that you have?” she asked, pretending not to know. “Oh, Emmie!” She drew the little girl in for a warm hug.

  Emmie giggled. “Where you baby? In you tummy?”

  Blossom patted her now-flat stomach. “She’s asleep upstairs. She goes to bed early. She’s not a big girl like you.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Annabelle said. “Now she’ll want to stay up all evening.”

  Blossom set Emmie down then took the bottle of wine Annabelle had brought. “I made white bean chili tonight. Sound good?”

  “Don’t like chili,” Emmie said then wandered off toward the family room, looking for Nick. Olivia was dropping him off here at the Circle H to stay with her ex, Logan Hunter, who was Nick’s dad and Blossom’s new husband. So, in effect, Nick had two homes.

  “That’s a knee-jerk reaction.” Annabelle lowered her voice. “I doubt she’s ever had chili.”

  “But it makes such an easy topic to protest.”

  “You know her well,” Annabelle said with a smile.

  She filled Blossom in about their nightly bath routine, and the new cell phone she’d had to buy because hers never did dry out, the books they read and videos they shared, the foods Annabelle had introduced with some success. She even told the doughnut-face story from the night Finn had sneaked a box into her bag. Then a car horn tooted from the yard, and Shadow was there, followed by Olivia and Nick, which delighted Emmie. Olivia’s stepmother Liza soon joined them. Liza was thirty-six, closer to their age than her husband’s, and got along with the friends’ group well.

  Only seconds after they’d settled in the dining room with bowls of chili and hunks of homemade bread, someone asked about Nell Sutherland. The kids were in the family room with their dinner, eating on the coffee table.

  “I invited Nell—again—but she said no,” Annabelle reported.

  Olivia tucked a stray hair into her ponytail. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Shadow added, “I’ve mentioned our meetings half a dozen times. Nell always has some excuse.”

  Annabelle said, “She thinks she doesn’t fit in with us.”

  There were several squawks of outrage. “We’ll see about that.”

  They didn’t get to say more before Emmie and Nick ran in to announce they were going to the barn. Blossom started to rise from the table.

  But Olivia objected first. “No, you are not, young man. Finish your dinner. Afterward I’ll put on a movie for you to watch with Emmie.”

  “Emmie’s small, Nick,” Blossom put in. “You know the barn can be dangerous, and your dad’s not here to watch you. He and Uncle Grey went to have dinner in town.”

  Nick’s mouth set. “We just want to see Hero.”

  The women all exchanged looks. Then Olivia sighed. “Do you promise to keep out of the stalls? Hero’s included?” she asked, holding her son’s gaze.

  Blossom used her best stepmother voice. “And if you take carrots with you—” which, of course, they would “—remember to show Emmie how to keep her hand flat.”

  The kids ran off, shouting promises back over their shoulders, the bag of carrots bumping against Nick’s leg. The women looked at each other again and burst out laughing.

  “You really think they’ll be all right?” Annabelle asked, which set off another round of laughter at her expense.

  “You’re behaving just like a concerned mother again,” Shadow joked.

  “I’m not,” she insisted. “I mean, I do care and I’m worried about Emmie getting into trouble around all those big animals...”

  “We’re teasing, Belle.” Olivia sobered. “Any luck yet finding her dad?”

  Annabelle updated the group about her online search and Finn telling her about Sierra’s other warrants.

  “Wow,” Blossom murmured. “Sounds as if your cousin was leading a very different life from the one you thought.”

  “I’m afraid so...” She paused. “I wish I could think of some way, any way, to get some insight on the life she led. There has to be someone, somewhere...”

  “From what you tell us, Sierra must have been pretty good at evading her responsibilities—except for Emmie, I assume—but there must be some kind of track record. It’s weird you’ve come up empty.”

  “I know, and I’ve racked my brain trying to remember anything specific. The last time I spoke to her, before the accident, Sierra did mention a new assignment.”

  “She organized events, right?”

  “That’s what she told me.” She rubbed her forehead as if to find the answer there. If Sierra had lied to her about one thing, she might have lied about everything. Then she remembered. “Wait. The company that hired her for one event may have had an animal name, a bird or something...”

  “What about location?”

  “Sierra didn’t mention that. Which,”
Annabelle added with a sigh, “seems to have been her modus operandi. The less said, the better, the harder it would be for someone to trail her.”

  “If only Emmie could help...” Blossom said.

  Olivia put in, “There’s no telling what Emmie’s life with her mom was like either.”

  “I have no reason to believe Sierra wasn’t a good mother,” Annabelle said.

  Liza, who’d been silent until now, said, “Keep looking, hon. Or maybe Finn will find a connection.”

  “Speaking of the sheriff...” Shadow said with a look at Annabelle.

  “Let’s not,” she said and turned back to her meal. She didn’t want to talk further about Sierra or Finn. “Let’s eat our chili before it gets cold.”

  Like every lead she’d followed so far.

  Dead ends for Emmie, and dead ends for Annabelle’s fantasy of a relationship with Finn.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “TURKEY TODAY?” Emmie asked from her place at the table.

  “Not yet.” Annabelle grabbed a knife from the wooden block and sliced the meatloaf that Emmie probably wouldn’t eat.

  Two weeks after the meeting of her Girls’ Night Out group, Annabelle had begun to think about Thanksgiving. As usual she’d already ordered extra supplies and food for the diner. Most years she worked late that Wednesday, baking pumpkin, mince and apple pies for her customers to pick up on Thursday morning for their family celebrations. Then, exhausted by all the last-minute requests for her baked ham or special cranberry sauce, Annabelle would crawl home and collapse. Her own Thanksgiving was spent sleeping and trying to recover from the preholiday onslaught.

  Olivia and Shadow had invited her and Emmie to their first joint Thanksgiving this year at Wilson Cattle, but Annabelle couldn’t make up her mind. Being the lone wolf at Girls’ Night was one thing; being the extra person at the table on a family occasion was another. Annabelle would feel even more alone than she often did.

  From Nick and Ava, Emmie had heard about their feast with all the trimmings, which made Annabelle wonder if Emmie had ever enjoyed a holiday dinner with Sierra—or where.

  “I hungry,” Emmie said, banging her spoon on the table.

  “One more minute, sweetie.” Annabelle laid smaller pieces of the fragrant meatloaf on a plate then added green beans and what Emmie called smashed potatoes with a just so “puddle” of gravy that she insisted on.

  “We eat with Nick and Ava?” Emmie asked.

  “We’ll see,” she said, one of her own mother’s favorite answers that usually meant no.

  Knowing that sounded like Nell Sutherland, too, making excuses, she set the plate in front of Emmie who pushed it away. “Don’t like this.”

  “You haven’t tried it. Take a bite. If you still don’t like it, I’ll...fix you something else.” She shouldn’t have said that. When they read together Emmie was an angel, but she could be unpredictable and Annabelle braced for a howl of protest.

  Instead, Emmie brandished her fork. “Finn like this?”

  Annabelle was no fool. “I’m sure he does.”

  Without another word Emmie dug into her meatloaf. She chewed then swallowed and a big smile spread across her face. “Good,” she pronounced.

  Annabelle grinned. “Yes, when I was your age, my mother made this.”

  Emmie looked around. “Where she go?”

  “She, um, she isn’t here anymore.”

  Emmie studied her plate. “She an an-gle?”

  “That’s angel, sweetie. Yes, exactly.”

  “My mama too,” she said.

  Annabelle put down her fork. This was the first time since Sierra’s funeral that Emmie had mentioned her, and maybe she was ready to come to terms with the loss. On the subject of her own mother, Annabelle wasn’t. Can’t you do anything right? she’d asked so many times until Annabelle became afraid to do anything at all. Certainly, as she’d done in the closet under the stairs, she’d drawn into a protective shell. “My mother had a long life,” was all she said.

  “My mama’s pretty.”

  “Yes she...was. You look like her.”

  Emmie glanced down at herself. “Why she go away?”

  Annabelle crouched beside her. “Baby, she didn’t mean to leave you. Is that what you thought?” When Emmie nodded, Annabelle hugged her, feeling her narrow shoulders shake. “Tomorrow, why don’t we buy a nice picture frame? We’ll look at some photos I have from when she and I were little like you—and try to find some as you remember her. Okay?” Emmie said nothing but she’d stopped trembling. “We’ll make a collage...a group of all the pictures, then put it in your room. You can see her whenever you want.” Your room, she’d said as if Emmie would always be here.

  When she pulled back, Emmie looked dubious but then nodded.

  “I help you, A-bel.”

  Annabelle brushed a damp lock of hair from Emmie’s face. She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Thank you. We’ll do it together.” For another moment, Emmie sat there mulling over their plan or reaching some silent point of acceptance about Sierra. “Whenever you feel sad,” Annabelle said, a lump in her throat, “tell me. Okay?”

  As Annabelle had never dared to do with her parents about her feelings. Enjoying this brief moment, she gave Emmie another hug then sat across from her.

  “I stay with you?” Emmie asked, her blue eyes wide. “All the time?”

  Annabelle didn’t know how to answer. Despite what Finn thought, it wasn’t in Emmie’s best interest for her to stay, for Annabelle to try to raise her, probably do a bad job of it and end up in Barren forever. If she couldn’t take another course or travel, eventually she would resent Emmie. She had to find Emmie’s father.

  Remembering the conversation with her friends, she cleared her throat. “Emmie, can you tell me where you used to live?” She might not know the exact address but...

  With a fierce expression, Emmie swirled gravy through her smashed potatoes. “We always go in a car,” she said.

  “I know, but you told me you went to Denver once. That big city with all the noise? Where did you stay then? A hotel?”

  “We don’t stay.”

  “You mean you drove on to somewhere else?”

  Emmie’s mouth turned down. She probably didn’t have a concept of time. One day might seem the same to her as a month. “Mama had lots of works...”

  “She worked for different companies.”

  Emmie blinked. “What’s a comp’ny?”

  Annabelle sighed. Pumping a three-year-old for information wasn’t something to be proud of, yet this might be the only way to find Emmie’s dad. If she remembered anything more about their travels, Annabelle would have something to go on. “It’s the place where your mom might have had her job.”

  Emmie dipped a piece of meatloaf into the gravy-potato mix. “Don’t know.” She glanced around the kitchen, her gaze on the stove, the counter then the table between them. “But no house.”

  Unwilling to press the issue, which seemed to upset Emmie, Annabelle didn’t respond. She was clearing the table when Emmie hopped down from her chair and skipped into the living room, her attention already on something else. “I get books,” she called. Then she ran back, her blue eyes sparkling. “My mama work for a lion.”

  * * *

  FINN HAD LEFT his office ten minutes ago and now, holding his breath, he turned off the road onto a rutted driveway. He’d been here before. This was the Moran farm, five fallow acres, its fences broken down and the house...from here it looked no better than it ever had. His Realtor had made this appointment, but she was showing another property so he’d come alone.

  He doubted the place would suit him. The gravel path skimmed close to the abandoned henhouse where earlier this year Grey and Shadow had found a long-missing gun underneath the chickens’ modest home, buried in a hollow where no one, even law enforce
ment, had thought to look ten years ago. That weapon had cleared Grey of any wrongdoing in Jared Moran’s death. The path continued on past an old falling-down barn with its doors hanging by the hinges.

  Wanda Moran, Shadow’s mother, and Jack Hancock, the chef at the café down the street from Annabelle’s diner, were waiting for him on the porch. Jack, who liked to pretend he was French, was tall and thin while Wanda, dark-haired like her children, Shadow and Derek, stood no more than five feet tall. They were what the locals called a romantic item.

  Finn got out of his car. Wanda wasn’t smiling and it was Jack who greeted him.

  “Thanks for coming out, Sheriff.”

  “No problem, but I was surprised the farm is for rent.” And the question he asked next had been in Finn’s mind since his Realtor’s call. “I thought the county was taking this property for unpaid back taxes?” Yet Finn frowned. He couldn’t remember ever serving the eviction notice.

  Wanda’s face turned color. “Well, there may have been some rethinking.”

  Finn tried to gauge her expression. “Let me guess. Grey Wilson paid the taxes.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “He and Shadow did—one good thing about their marriage. I’m trying to overlook his part in Jared’s death, but I’m still not his biggest fan.” The accidental shooting of Wanda’s eldest son had taken place at Wilson Cattle. Jared, Derek and Grey had all been there, involved in the tragedy. “I didn’t want to be obligated to the Wilsons. I could accept help from my daughter, though.”

  “Then you didn’t lose the farm after all.”

  Wanda looked away. “This place is the only real thing I own. For the money involved in back taxes, I couldn’t let it go to the county and get sold at auction even when that meant taking from Grey.”

  Finn eyed the dirt yard, the one-car garage at the side of the house. If he ignored the fact that Derek had once lived here, he could imagine its potential. For an instant he could almost see Emmie running across the yard, Annabelle calling her to dinner from the front porch... Was he crazy? Unless—until—he found justice for Caro and Alex, some peace for himself, he couldn’t even think of a future. Not that Annabelle would be around then anyway.