Her Cowboy Sheriff

by Leigh Riker

  “You silly.” Emmie peered over his shoulder at the barn.

  Tail swishing, Sarge’s entire body trembled with excitement. Sidestepping him, Finn faced Annabelle. He couldn’t help but wonder what had brought her here. Had she taken him up on his invitation just for Emmie’s sake? From what she’d said and her tense expression, he guessed this wasn’t to be a social call. “What news?” Had she found Emmie’s dad?

  “Not for little ears,” she said. “I’d hoped to tell you before Emmie got out.”

  Fortunately, Emmie didn’t react to hearing her name. Her attention was focused on Sarge, and Finn set her down to play with the dog. He laid his brush on top of the red paint can then led the way into the barn. “Pretty spiffy, huh?”

  “Beautiful,” Annabelle said, but looked distracted by whatever she’d come to tell him. Finn wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. She followed him along the barn aisle to the large stall where his new bay gelding lived with his pony pal by his side. Emmie ran after them with Sarge at her heels.

  When Finn reached the stall, two pairs of equine ears perked up. Brown snuffled his nose into Finn’s palm, searching for treats. “Mind your manners. We have company.” He produced a carrot from his rear jeans pocket and snapped off a piece. Emmie could give that to Big Brown, but the pony liked to nip. Finn fed it first. Olivia had come over yesterday to give him a beginner lesson, but he still felt leery around the pair.

  Olivia had watched him on Brown with keen eyes. “You have a natural seat,” she’d said.

  “Is that good or bad?” Finn had no idea what that meant.

  “Very good. You’re nice and deep in the saddle.” Then she’d let go of the lead rope and Finn was riding on his own like a kid with his first two-wheeled bike. He and Brown had done all right, and a determined Olivia was coming back soon for another lesson. In the meantime he could lead Emmie around without worrying about her safety.

  “I want to feed him!” she insisted.

  Finn planned to caution her first, but her loud wail startled the horses. They danced in the stall, stepping on each other, ears laid back. “They don’t like loud noises, Emmie—” she only yelled louder “—quiet down or we’ll have to leave the barn. Then you won’t get to feed carrots.”

  “Will, too!”

  “Oh, brother,” Annabelle murmured at his shoulder.

  Emmie threw herself down in the aisle, rolled through the stray bits of straw and the dirt, kicking and screaming for all she was worth. Finn’s mouth set. “No pony ride today then. You made your choice. Wow,” he said to Annabelle. “I’ve seen tantrums but she’s a pro.”

  Then he walked away from Emmie.

  “Where you going?” she raged, heels drumming the dirt. “You stay!”

  “Not while you’re shouting at me. No,” he said when she yelled again. “Annabelle and I will wait outside until you feel better.”

  “Finn! Finn!” Emmie’s furious tone followed them into the yard.

  “We just leave? I’ve never thought of that,” Annabelle said, her eyes wide.

  “Best way to deal with that kind of drama. She’ll be okay, but Brown and the pony probably won’t be able to hear for a week.” He hoped they didn’t hurt themselves.

  Annabelle frowned. “What if Emmie opens the stall door?”

  “It’s locked. The bolt’s up high where she can’t reach it.”

  In the weak sunlight, they sat on folding lawn chairs by the doors. His ears quivering, Sarge plodded from the barn to slump down beside them. Emmie was adorable, like Alex, but she had a temper and Finn meant to wait her out. He inhaled the now-familiar scents of hay and leather, grain and manure.

  A minute later the screaming stopped and Finn shot Annabelle a grin. “See? Whenever Alex did that, Caro and I left him to his tantrums. Without an audience they never last long. Now,” he said, “what did you hear—other than Emmie?”

  Annabelle fidgeted, hands twisting in her lap. Then, after taking a deep breath, she said, “Nell Sutherland told me a while back that she’d had a short relationship with Derek years ago but—that is, and wait for it, before he dumped her for my cousin! Finn, he and Sierra were involved.”

  Finn gaped at her. “Derek Moran and Sierra?”

  “I know, seems like a stretch, but it happened. Nell and I are longtime friends but she keeps most things to herself. And Sierra never even told me about being in town then.” Annabelle’s mouth quivered. “I never imagined she was seeing him. Finn, if they had an affair, Derek might be the person she meant to ‘tie up loose ends’ with and—”

  “Derek could be Emmie’s father.” Finn groaned aloud. “No wonder you couldn’t believe what Nell told you.”

  Finn glanced at the driveway beside the house as if he might see Derek’s new yellow truck there. “I chased that guy all over town today, which gave me reason to haul him in. Caught up with him finally at the Circle H acting as if the pursuit never happened. Right now he’s in a holding cell, but he won’t be there long. I’d bet my last dollar Grey’s on his way to arrange bail for him.”

  “I saw you chase him past the diner. What did he do?”

  “Breaking and entering—again—like he did here the day I moved in. Burglary. Engaging an officer of the law in dangerous pursuit. There’s a shipment of chain saws missing from the hardware store, fancy toolboxes on wheels, and a few bags of dog food. Earl, the owner, isn’t happy. And I’m still adding charges. Any cop could pile on half a dozen without having to think.” Which didn’t satisfy Finn. He was already waiting for the judge to throw the book at Derek for cattle rustling.

  “Why would he steal a bunch of chain saws?”

  “To resell probably, but he’s not talking. And Grey will help him lawyer up.”

  Annabelle rubbed her forehead. “First, Sierra shows up and gets gravely injured in that wreck. Then, when she dies, Emmie’s left alone—and now Derek is the only likely person I’ve found who might be her father.”

  “Can’t quite see him as a daddy—except, perhaps, the biological one, and even that makes me shudder.” Finn blew out a breath. “If the dates Sierra spent with him line up, we’ll know more than we do now. I’ll see if I can crack Derek before he gets sprung from jail.”

  “Be careful, though. Maybe you shouldn’t tell him exactly why you’re asking about those dates.”

  They rose from the lawn chairs at the instant Emmie emerged from the barn. Wiping her eyes, she gave a shuddering breath. She had dirt streaks on both cheeks, and Finn didn’t know when he’d seen a more contrite-looking face. Even Alex hadn’t been that good. Emmie wandered toward them and stopped in front of Finn. “I sorry.”

  “It’s okay, kiddo.” He paused. “We all get mad sometimes, but you need to handle it in a different way.” Finn doubted she understood the fine points but wondered if he should take his own advice; the mere thought of Derek made him see red.

  Emmie stared at him for a moment. Then, while Finn was congratulating himself for managing her tantrum so well, she strolled over to the paint can he’d left by the barn doors and knocked the brush off its top. Before he or Annabelle could intervene, she smiled like an evil child in some horror movie.

  And kicked the can, spreading red paint over Finn’s yard.

  * * *

  ANNABELLE WAS STILL laughing when she walked with Finn to the house. “Guess we know who won that one,” she said. She was worried he was upset until he turned around and grinned.

  “With that temper she might be Derek’s kid. I didn’t say my method always worked with Alex.”

  Exhausted after her tantrum, Emmie had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Finn put her on the sofa, covered her with an afghan then walked into the kitchen. Annabelle could see he’d been working there. Finn had bleached Wanda Moran’s old sink, taken down the yellowed curtains and washed the window overlooking the rear yard. With brisk motions he filled
his state-of-the-art coffee maker, telling Annabelle he meant to redo the whole place one project at a time.

  “You wouldn’t want to help me paint?”

  Annabelle sat at the battered table Wanda had left behind. “I’ll pass,” she said. “That’s beyond my pay grade.” She’d only come to the farm to tell him about Derek. If Emmie hadn’t needed a nap to recover from her drama, they’d be gone by now. “If I wanted to paint, I’d start with my parents’ house. When they were alive every dollar went into the diner.” She said, “I’ll need to update a bit before I list the house.”

  When Finn turned back to the counter, Annabelle assumed he wasn’t interested. Or didn’t want to point out that her eventual move meant Emmie would leave that house too. “With so much going on with Emmie, I can’t find time to paint.”

  She’d even had to leave the diner as it was today for the first showing when she left to see Finn. There’d been no time to make things neat. If an offer came in for the restaurant, Annabelle wouldn’t haggle over price; like Finn with his house in Chicago, she just wanted to be rid of it.

  “Your Realtor’s right. Let me know if you change your mind,” Finn finally said, and Annabelle wondered if he meant about painting or leaving town. “We could help each other.”

  Although tempted, Annabelle wondered why he was being so nice, as if he wanted to spend more time with her. That worried her. She didn’t want to be more vulnerable to him yet the suggestion certainly appealed.

  “I’ll think about it.” She stood. The less time she spent with Finn, probably the better. “I should be going.”

  He tilted his head toward the living room. “Emmie needs to sleep or you’ll get another tantrum. By the time she wakes up, I could have dinner on the table. Why don’t you stay?”

  Annabelle took a breath. “Because you’re giving me mixed messages, Finn.”

  He flinched. “Nothing wrong with having a meal together, is there?”

  Like a glutton for punishment, Annabelle couldn’t think of a good argument, except her unrequited feelings for him. She said yes, if a bit reluctantly, and helping Finn prepare their dinner turned out to be fun—as long as she avoided any mention of their last argument. They teased each other about Emmie’s tantrum, talked about his plans for the farm and discussed Derek’s possible paternity.

  “You’re a good cook,” Annabelle told him, tasting the spaghetti sauce he offered her on a spoon.

  “Necessity being the mother of invention. After I lost Caro, I either had to make my own meals, live on takeout or restaurant food—no offense against your diner—or go without. Hard to ruin spaghetti sauce,” he said, looking into the other pot on the stove. “But I may have overdone this pasta.”

  “I won’t complain. You can’t imagine how sick I get of preparing food.” She flushed. “I’d rather watch you.”

  When their meal was ready, Emmie wakened to announce, “Smells good.”

  To Annabelle’s satisfaction, the little girl didn’t find fault with Finn’s sauce, the pasta or the garlic bread. In fact, she seemed genuinely sorry for the fuss she’d made earlier and ate all her salad without spitting out the bits of green pepper. Maybe Finn’s method had worked after all to improve her behavior. Blotting her lips on her napkin, as Annabelle had taught her, Emmie grinned. “I like you food. Thankoo, Finn.”

  He and Annabelle exchanged smiles. “You’re welcome, short stuff. If you’re good, next time you can ride the pony. Nick’s mom has promised to bring me a saddle she used when she was your age.”

  “I can?” Emmie bounded from her chair. “I a rider like Nick!” She ran into the living room then, already onto something else, came back with a video that had belonged to Wanda. “See this one now?”

  Annabelle started to shake her head. She’d already stayed too long, but Finn was telling Emmie, “We’ll watch with you.”

  Annabelle’s arm quickly went numb with Emmie’s head against it on the sofa, but she didn’t want to move. Neither did Finn, apparently, who sat on Emmie’s other side, his arm brushing Annabelle’s shoulder now and then, his gaze joined with hers whenever Emmie laughed at the adventures of Lady and the Tramp. Emmie had wanted Sarge to watch with them, but he stayed outdoors, as if hoping to avoid another meltdown. Annabelle tried to ignore the rush that ran through her veins whenever she and Finn accidentally touched.

  During the last twenty minutes of the film that had held Emmie riveted, she fell asleep again.

  “I’m glad Wanda left that movie,” Finn said, stretching. “Let me carry Emmie to your car. Want to take home some spaghetti? If you don’t, I’ll be eating it for a week.”

  “I wouldn’t mind a care package, thanks.” She knew Emmie would eat Finn’s cooking without complaint.

  As soon as the door opened onto the chilly night, they met the first real snowfall of the season. Huge flakes drifted from the sky to cover the ground—and the red paint Emmie had spilled—as well as Annabelle’s car. Like the experienced father he’d once been, Finn buckled Emmie into her seat then began to clear the snow from the windshield. “You’ll be okay to drive home?”

  “I’ve lived here all my life,” she said. “In Kansas I know snow.”

  Finn smiled. “Oh, yeah? I told you Chicago winters are the worst.”

  The banter reminded her of Thanksgiving and their kiss. “Tell me that when you’re trying to get feed to your cattle next month.”

  “My cattle? Two horses are more than I bargained for.”

  Annabelle watched the snowflakes melt on Finn’s dark hair. “Unless Grey is even more determined to turn you into a cowboy. Not a bad look, Sheriff.”

  His eyes darkened. His voice sounded husky. “You like cowboys?”

  “What girl doesn’t?”

  Finn lowered the snow scraper to his side. Under the arc lights from the barn eaves, she could see his steady look that made her heart speed. “Then maybe I ought to consider those cattle. Buy myself a hat like Grey’s black Stetson.”

  “Learn to line dance,” she murmured, knowing they weren’t really talking about cowboys now. Why were they both flirting?

  Finn moved closer in a determined way that should have made her step back yet didn’t.

  “Finn,” she said weakly.

  Before Annabelle could order herself to move, he’d slipped an arm around her shoulders to draw her closer. “I don’t mean to give you mixed messages, Annabelle, but I liked having you and Emmie here. I haven’t liked anything as much since I came to Barren. I don’t know what to make of that either, but maybe I should stop trying and just try...this.” His mouth angled to touch hers in a warm kiss that took away the falling snow, the cold night, and turned it into the heat of a summer day. “Notice I’m kissing first this time.”

  When Finn nudged her lips open, she didn’t resist. She kissed him back. Again. She’d dreamed of being in his arms, of tasting his kiss, never thinking it could happen. But where could this lead? He’d made his position clear. He hadn’t recovered from the tragedy in Chicago that had taken his wife and son, his job there and his belief in the future. In Barren he might care for Emmie, even care a little for Annabelle, but...her thoughts battled with the growing need inside for something more, something lasting and, if she were being honest, for Finn. Getting more deeply involved would only mean they’d all get hurt. Emmie, too. And he didn’t know she had made plans to leave in the spring, the door that would open to a whole new career in different places with different people.

  Of course she had Emmie’s welfare to think of first, but...

  “I’ll be leaving here, Finn,” Annabelle said against his lips.

  “You sure about that?”

  The word yes seemed to stick in her throat. She couldn’t say it. She’d never imagined Finn would kiss her again like that, would even think of the brief closeness they’d just shared. She drew back and held his gaze with hers
. “Why start something we can’t finish?”

  After that, there didn’t seem to be anything left to say. Her gaze fell and Annabelle pulled away from him completely, already missing his embrace, then got into her car.

  At home later she couldn’t sleep. She replayed those kisses like another showing of Mulan or Frozen for Emmie, heard her own words over and over in her mind. After checking on Emmie, who was sound asleep with her lamb, which she’d named Finnie, she tiptoed downstairs and opened her laptop.

  But the usual spam and half a dozen store ads for things she wouldn’t buy didn’t grab her attention. The email with the subject line “Important information about your course” most certainly did. “Oh, my,” she murmured.

  It was a message from The International Tour College!

  Did she dare open it? Maybe they’d decided not to accept her after all and would refund her registration fee. But...no.

  The class she’d signed up for was being cancelled due to low enrollment. That would have been not-so-good news—she’d have to wait even longer now—but instead the school was offering her the option of taking an earlier course.

  It started soon. Very soon.

  She reread the message, biting her lip, trying to decide what to do. This course was only for ten days rather than two weeks, and she could surely find someone to stay with Emmie then. Maybe Shadow might be able to help, or Olivia. But that would only be the beginning. After that her new career would take her away more often, for longer periods of time, and she had to consider Emmie’s well-being. Yet...

  She glanced at the closet under the stairs. This was her chance to escape—maybe her one chance—to begin a better life. She couldn’t pass up this opportunity.

  “Yes!” she said aloud, punching the air.

  She’d waited so long. Now her dream could come true—sooner than she’d hoped.

  Annabelle took a deep breath then wrote her reply to the email.

  They would manage. Somehow. Annabelle wasn’t the same inexperienced person she’d been with Emmie the night of Sierra’s accident. She could find a solution that worked for both of them. How hard could it be?