by Andre, Bella
Will flexed his jaw. "Settle down, Andie. I'm on your side here. I told you I'd look into it and I will. That's the best I can do right now."
"Right. Well, thanks for your time, Sheriff."
She slid out of the SUV and walked back to her battered old truck with her head high. He frowned, watching her start up the truck and rumble down the road toward the Limber Pine.
Nothing but a whole lot of trouble in one hell of a package.
***
"What's he doing here?"
Carly Shaw, the area game warden and Andie's close friend, glanced up from the jugs she and Andie were filling at the water fountain. Her long blond braid swung out as she followed Andie's gaze. "What's who doing here?"
"Will. The new sheriff." Andie hadn't seen him in more than a week, not since she'd stormed out of his SUV after their visit to Jessop's ranch. The last possible place she'd expected to encounter him was at Whiskey Creek's annual end-of-summer softball tournament.
Somehow she'd forgotten in that time his impact on her, how just looking at him made her feel as if a thousand volts of electricity had pumped into her body.
It was bad enough when he was wearing his uniform. But she felt positively weak-kneed at the sight of him in jeans and a T-shirt throwing a softball to Emily and looking younger and more relaxed than she'd ever seen him.
"Will?" Carly asked. "You mean Beth's gorgeous big brother?"
"Shame on you, Carly." Andie laughed, though she wholeheartedly agreed. She briefly contemplated shoving her head under the icy stream of water in the fountain.
"Besides," she added, "you're a happily married woman with your own gorgeous man."
"He is, isn't he?" Carly practically purred as she watched her husband giving last-minute pointers to his team.
Ryder must have felt them looking at him because he turned and grinned at both of them. Even from this distance Andie could see his dimples—the ones she and Carly teased him about—flashing. A former major league baseball player, Ryder exuded masculine grace and strength. He was also one of the most caring men Andie had ever met, with a heart as big as the Wind Rivers. After his premature retirement, he'd returned to Whiskey Creek to convert his family's ranch into a camp that provided outdoors experience for children with juvenile-onset diabetes. Another one of his projects was this softball tournament. He organized it every year—this year with Carly's help—and hosted the barbecue that followed at their ranch.
Andie had been friends with him longer than his wife, since Carly had only returned to Whiskey Creek herself the previous summer. She'd grown up in the town, but her work as a fish and game officer had taken her all across the state. She had come back to the Wind Rivers area to investigate a rash of bear poachings. She'd ended up not only catching the poachers but marrying her old friend Ryder.
Ryder's gaze warmed now as he looked at his wife, and Andie felt awkward, excluded from their private communication. They acted as if they'd been married for just weeks instead of a year.
She busied herself with filling the other water jug. "So what about Will?" she asked Carly. "I didn't expect to see him here."
Carly jerked her attention from her husband. "Beth brought Emily out to the Lazy Jake one day last week, and she and a few of the campers hit it off. They talked her into coming to play in the games today, and she must have dragged her father along to watch." Her gaze became speculative. "Why the sudden interest in the whereabouts of our new sheriff?"
Andie flushed. "No reason. Just curious."
"Mmmm-hmmm." Carly grinned. "You know what they say about curiosity, honey."
"Meow," Andie murmured.
"So how's the new tenant working out, anyway."
"He mostly keeps to himself," she told Carly as they carried the jugs to the dugout Ryder's team was using. "Sometimes I see him and Emily leave in the morning and pull in after dark, but that's about it."
She suspected he was purposely avoiding her. That was fine by her, she told herself. Especially after his callous attitude about the work camp.
The thought of the camp reminded her of Juana and Frederico, who had moved on the day after she and Will had visited. They'd stopped by the school before they left to tell her Jessop had mysteriously left what he owed them in an envelope on their doorstep—enough to pay the bill at the clinic with money left over to make their way to the orchards of Washington State.
Because of the timing of it, and because it seemed so out of character for Jessop, she wondered if Will could possibly have left the money. She'd probably never know, however. Even if he had been kind enough to make the gesture, she suspected he was the sort who would never admit it.
She couldn't help the speculation, though, as she watched him stretch his lean length on the opposite side of the bleachers. He sent her a polite nod as the game started.
After a few quick looks beneath the cover of her eyelashes, Andie tried not to pay too much attention to him. She concentrated on the game instead, on the rich, sweet scent of freshly mowed grass, on the excited hum of the crowd, on the bad jokes of the announcer, dear old Jake Shaw, Ryder's grandfather.
Whiskey Creek's annual Labor Day Free-for-All had become one of her favorite events of the year. Everybody played in the tournament, from grandmothers to peewee leaguers. Whoever signed up in the morning had a chance to be on a team.
It was just one of the many traditions she loved about Whiskey Creek, a part of the brilliant, ever-changing flow of life in a small town. The Founders' Day parade, the volunteer fire department's annual pancake supper, the livestock auction the every Tuesday that was more social than business. The harvest dances and the Halloween festivals and the modern-day barn raisings. She loved them all.
They celebrated life here, she thought. The changing of the seasons, births and deaths and comings of age.
Like any other place, Whiskey Creek had its problems, not the least of which was typical small-town closed mindedness about anything residents might consider different. But there was also a deep and abiding sense of community, of belonging, of being a vital portion of the greater whole.
She cheered hard for Emily in the fifth inning when the girl came up to bat and swatted a low fly ball that landed between the shortstop and the left fielder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Will on his feet, shouting encouragement to his daughter. When she headed to third base, bringing in a runner, Emily beamed as if she'd just led her team to the World Series tide.
"I'm going to grab a hot dog," Andie told Carly once the excitement died down. "Can I get you anything?"
Carly shook her head. "No, thanks."
"Save my spot!"
Keeping one eye on the action, she made her way to the concession stand. It took her twice as long as it should have to walk to the soft-drink trailer in the parking lot mainly because so many people stopped her along the route to say hello.
And when she was only ten yards away, a beefy hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to find Tom Jessop glowering at her.
"Tom," she greeted him coolly.
He dropped his hand and glared at her. "I hear you been stickin' your nose where it don't belong again."
"If that's what you want to call it, yes, I have."
"Stay the hell off my land, you hear me?"
"Half the county hears you, Tom," she murmured, trying to keep a cool head. What frustrated her more than anything else about the situation was that Tom was one of the wealthiest ranchers in the community. He could certainly afford to upgrade his workers' housing. He just chose not to.
"I mean it," he said. "You cost me two of my best workers, damn you. The rest of 'em are telling me they're movin' on too. What the hell am I supposed to do now? It's all your fault for buttin' in where you got no business."
At the thought of Juana Flores and her husband and children living in that dilapidated shack, Andie gave up the battle to keep her temper under control.
"If you wouldn't treat your workers like slaves, maybe you could keep them for lon
ger than a few days. Don't blame me, Tom, just because you're a lousy excuse for an employer and an even poorer excuse for a human being."
His florid face reddened even more. "Why you..." He loomed menacingly over her, but Andie held her ground, even though her heart was pounding like a stampede.
"Back off, Jessop." Will's voice, calm and unruffled, broke into the tense silence.
The rancher turned to him. "You stay out of this, Tanner. You're a newcomer here and I got no beef with you, even though you did trespass on my land. This is between me and the little lady here."
"Okay. You've said your piece now and so has the 'little lady.'" He flashed an almost-grin at Andie. "Now go on back to your ranch and settle down."
Tom's thick hands clenched. "You keep her away from my help, Sheriff," he said. "If I catch her messin' in my business again, it'll be the last time. Understand?"
Instantly, Will was in the other man's face, his own expression fierce. "Understand this, Jessop. She gets hurt, so much as a broken fingernail, I'll know right where to come looking. You got it?"
"Dad. What's going on?"
Andie turned at the voice of Jessop's teenage son, Marty. He gave her a shy, surreptitious smile, and she managed to smile back. Though he took after his father in size and appearance, Marty had a quiet, amiable nature. That's why she couldn't understand how he made her so uncomfortable.
Since the Rocking J was just down the road from the Limber Pine, he sometimes stopped when he was passing by to ask if she needed help with anything, and she always wanted to escape into the house whenever she saw him. Maybe it was the way he sometimes looked at her with a little more interest than an eighteen-year-old ought to have for someone nearly twice his age. Still, she put that down to teenage hormones.
"Nothing's going on, son," Jessop said. "I'm just having a nice little chat about trespassing with Miz McPhee and the new sheriff here."
His son's presence seemed to defuse Jessop's anger, and after another glare at Andie and Will, he let Marty lead him away.
"I saw him head over here," Will said to Andie when they were alone, "and was afraid he had trouble on his mind."
So Will had been watching her. She thought she'd felt his gaze as she headed toward the concession stand, but hadn't wanted to turn around to be sure.
"You didn't need to rescue me, Sheriff," she said. "I was doing just fine."
"I know you were. I just didn't want to have to pick up the pieces when you were done with him."
She chuckled, then reaction abruptly set in. "I—I need to sit down. My knees are still shaking. I thought he was going to slug me for a minute there."
She made it to a patch of grass, and he squatted down beside her. "So did I. Listen, Andie, stay away from the Rocking J. Let me handle the rest of the investigation. Jessop doesn't strike me as the kind of guy who's going to give up easily. If you see or hear anything suspicious, let me know."
She closed her eyes and heard again the garbled voice of her tormenting caller. She really ought to tell Will about it, she thought. Then again, she hadn't had any calls for several days. Maybe the whole thing was over.
"Feeling any better?" he asked after a few more minutes.
"I think so."
He reached a hand to help her up, and without thinking Andie clasped it. As he pulled her to her feet, their gazes locked. Breathless, she watched his eyes darken, felt the heat of his skin, the strength of his fingers. The yells and shouts of the crowd seemed to shimmer away, leaving only the two of them.
"Andie—" he started to say, but before he could complete the sentence, an anxious yell sounded behind them.
"Sheriff Tanner!"
They both turned, and Andie watched Joey Whitehorse climb out of his sheriff's department SUV and run toward them.
She glanced at Will and was shocked at the change in him. He was instantly on alert, his features tense, looking for all the world like a wolf scenting trouble.
"What's wrong, Joe?"
"Miz Walker just called the office trying to find you." The deputy was breathless when he reached them. "She says Jace went after range cows this morning, and she can't round him up on the cell phone and she's afraid the baby's coming."
Will was racing for his Jeep before Joe finished speaking. Andie rushed after him. "I'm coming with you," she said.
"You don't need to."
"She's my friend. I want to help, if I can."
Shouts from the ball diamond suddenly distracted him, and they both turned just in time to see Emily catch a fly ball.
"Damn," Will muttered. "I forgot about Emily. What am I going to do with her?"
"Will, this is Whiskey Creek. Give me two minutes and I'll find somebody completely trustworthy to take her for the night."
She raced back to Carly on the bleachers.
"I was wondering what happened to you," her friend said. "There must be a huge line."
"I don't have time to explain everything right now, but Beth thinks she's in labor, and Will and I are going out to the Bar W to help. Can Emily spend the night at the Lazy Jake?"
"Of course!" Carly said instantly. "Is there anything else we can do?"
"Just pray Beth waits until she makes it to the hospital to have this baby."
Chapter 6
Later, Andie had almost no recollection of the frenzied drive to the Bar W, just vague impressions of a white-knuckled Will and the pines rushing by in a blur as they sped to the ranch.
They squealed into the driveway, and she jumped out of the Jeep before it even rolled to a complete stop. Without bothering to knock, she rushed inside, Will close behind her.
"Beth? Honey, where are you?"
"I'm in here," Beth called out, though her voice that normally bubbled over with enthusiasm was thin and strained. Andie followed the sound to the living room and found Beth perched on the couch, pale but composed.
"Is your bag packed?" Will asked.
"It's over there," she said calmly. "I don't know if it will do us any good, though. I don't think there's time to make it to Jackson."
"First babies generally take a while to get here," Andie said.
"I know. That's what I told myself when the contractions started this morning. And then my water broke fifteen minutes ago."
What little color she had left in her face disappeared suddenly, and Beth doubled over on the couch, holding her distended abdomen and panting as if she'd just run a marathon in record time.
Andie rushed to her and put a supportive arm around her. "Ride it out, honey. Just breathe." She tried to remember the breathing exercises she'd learned so long ago, the ones she'd never been able to use.
"How far apart are they?" Will asked, when the contraction ended.
"Not nearly far enough," Beth muttered and Andie squeezed her hand. "About two minutes."
He frowned. "How regular?"
"Well, I haven't missed one for the last two hours. They seem to be getting stronger since my water broke."
Will muttered an oath, worry furrowing his forehead, his silver-gray eyes murky and troubled. "You're probably close. Why in the hell did you wait this long to call somebody?"
"Don't yell at me, big brother," she snapped. "I've never had a baby before. I thought they were just Braxton Hicks contractions, like I've been having for a month. I'm three weeks early, after all. How was I supposed to know this is the real enchilada?"
"It's not your fault." Andie aimed a glare at Will. "You didn't know. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"
"As I see it, we have two choices," Will said. "We can head into Jackson ourselves. That's an hour's drive and we'd be running the risk that the kid might decide to make an appearance while we're on the road. Or we can call for an ambulance to take her, then at least she'd have somebody with a hell of a lot more medical training than I have."
"Whiskey Creek doesn't have an ambulance," Andie said. "We've raised all the money for it, but it won't arrive for another month."
"I don
't think I can wait that long," Beth said helpfully.
"Damn," Will said. "Where's the closest one?"
"Over in Pinedale. Still a half hour away."
Beth suddenly stiffened and groaned.
"Another one?" Andie asked. Her friend nodded and resumed her breathing exercises.
"They're coming closer," Will said. "Beth, let's get you in the other room where you can lie down." As soon as the contraction was over, he lifted his sister off the couch. Andie saw his mouth twitch with the added burden on his bad shoulder.
"William Charles Tanner," Beth exclaimed, "put me down. I'm having a baby. I didn't break my leg. I'm perfectly capable of walking."
"Be quiet and breathe, brat," he said, and headed into the bedroom. Andie followed and watched him lay his sister on the bed.
"Andie, call the Whiskey Creek doctor—what's his name, Matthews—and tell him I want him here yesterday. Tell him to call Pinedale for an ambulance and have them meet us here. While you're at it, try Jace's cell phone again. And then I'll need some towels and some string and some hot water."
"Just like on TV?"
He flashed her a grin that, under other circumstances, would have stolen her breath. "That's right. Just like on TV. Now let's see if I've watched this enough times—and remember enough of my police training—to know what I'm doing."
Andie hurried into the kitchen to use the phone, her breathing ragged. What if something went wrong with the baby? There were so many possible complications. She didn't dare give voice to her panic, though. Beth was going to have a tough enough time without Andie worrying her further.
Her fingers fumbling, she punched in the number for the Whiskey Creek clinic and sagged with relief when old Dr. Matthews himself answered.
"Somehow I knew that girl was going to pull something like this," he said after promising Andie he was on his way.
She had no luck trying to reach Jace, though. He must be too high in the mountains for his phone to work, she thought. When that man finally turned up, she planned to chew him out thoroughly for leaving his pregnant wife alone all day.