The Sheriff of Sage Bend

by Brenda Mott

  “Shannon!” Miranda gathered her reins as Sundae fidgeted, eager to go. Had Shannon ridden to higher ground and fallen off her horse? Was she lying unconscious in a ravine? Refusing to admit Lucas had a point—that it would be smarter to wait for search and rescue—Shannon turned the gelding and headed back down the trail. Halfway to the bottom, she veered off in a different direction, looking for tracks, blood, any sign that Shannon or Poker had been here….

  She checked everywhere she could think of that she and Shannon had ridden in the past, and explored a few places they hadn’t. Frustrated, she headed back down into the valley and stopped to let Sundae drink at a stream. She looked up at the sound of hoofbeats.

  Paige. Her mother pulled her sorrel mare to a halt. “No luck?” The expression on her wan face was as hopeless as a lost child’s.

  Miranda shook her head. “Did Lucas get a search party organized?”

  “Yes. He called in every available deputy and volunteer he could find. Word’s spreading fast. A bunch of our neighbors have shown up to help—Tori’s there.” Miranda’s best friend since third grade. “They’re forming a search grid. You want to ride back with me and join them?”

  Miranda sighed. “Yeah. I’ve looked everywhere I can think of.”

  They rode in silence for a while.

  “How could she just vanish?” Paige’s choked voice hit Miranda hard. “If it wasn’t a mountain lion…” She let out a sob, and Miranda knew where her mind had gone.

  To a night months ago, when Shannon might’ve become a victim of the man she’d helped send to jail. A night in the dark parking lot of the Silver Spur, where she had witnessed the abduction of Jo Ella Jamison.

  Abducted by a guy Shannon had danced with in the bar that night.

  “Mom. Don’t think that way.” Miranda inched Sundae up beside her mother’s horse. “We’re going to find her.”

  But deep down inside, she was just as scared as Paige.

  “I DON’T WANT TO LEAVE you alone.” Miranda slumped in a chair in the living room, every inch of her body aching.

  “Me, neither.” Tori, with her blazing red hair and flashy Western clothes, had never looked more serious.

  “You girls are tired,” Paige said. “Go on home. I’ll be fine.”

  But she didn’t look fine. They’d searched until dark closed in around them, and still hadn’t found a sign of Shannon. Garrett had spotted a set of cougar tracks not far from the fork in the trail. He’d lost them when they reached rocky ground, but he’d seen no sign of human tracks, blood or anything else that would indicate the mountain lion had attacked Shannon.

  Still, there was easily more than one cougar out there, as well as the occasional wolf that drifted down from Canada or up from Yellowstone National Park. No matter where Shannon was, it couldn’t be good.

  Lucas had questioned them until Miranda thought her head would explode. Paige had to feel the same way.

  “I’ll go feed, then come back.”

  “I’m off tonight,” Tori said. She worked two jobs—waitressing at the Silver Spur and at the truck stop a few miles out of town. “I can stay, too.”

  Before Paige could protest, there was a knock at the back door. “Sit. I’ll get it.” Miranda went to the kitchen and flicked on the porch light.

  “Miranda.” Fae Lambert, Tori’s aunt and co-owner of the truck stop, stood on the other side of the screen, one hand at her ample breast. Her black hair, coaxed with hairspray into a semitamed mane, didn’t move an inch as she shook her head. “Honey, I’m so sorry to hear about Shannon. Is there any word?”

  “Not yet. Come on in.” Miranda held the door open, and Fae ambled inside, a plastic-wrapped pecan pie balanced on one hand. With the other she continued to clutch her brightly colored Western shirt. “I thought I’d check on you and your momma. See if there’s anything Mae and I can do to help. We’ll post flyers at the diner if you want.”

  The twin sisters had run the Truck Inn for as long as Miranda could remember. In their midfifties now, neither had ever married, but they’d raised Tori from birth when her own mother couldn’t. Shirley Lambert had been diagnosed with breast cancer shortly after she found out she was pregnant. She’d refused treatment, not wanting to jeopardize her baby.

  She’d died when Tori was six months old.

  “That would be great,” Miranda said. “Here, let me take that.”

  Fae handed over the pie. “We thought you might need a little something to keep you going. And by the way, Mae says to tell you to stop by the diner on your way home. She’s got a fresh pot of coffee on and a big ol’ kettle of hunter’s stew. You’ll need it if you keep riding these hills all day and night.”

  With that, she swept into the living room, where she enveloped Miranda’s mom in a hug. “Paige, honey, I’m so sorry. I wish there was something more I could do.”

  Paige returned the embrace. “Thank you. I’m about half out of my mind.” She gestured toward a recliner, then sat down herself. “Can you stay awhile?”

  “I sure can. As long as you need me to.”

  “Mom—”

  “Don’t ‘Mom’ me,” Paige said. “See, I told you I’ll be fine. Go home, girls.” She looked from one to the other. “Get some rest. Fae’s here with me now.” But her voice sounded nasal, and moisture rimmed her eyes.

  Miranda sank onto the couch beside her and rubbed her mother’s back. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find her.”

  “Of course we will.” Paige shooed her away. “Get some of Mae’s stew and take care of your animals.”

  “All right. But if you change your mind, call me.”

  “I will.”

  “Thanks, Fae.”

  “You betcha. I’ll take good care of your momma.”

  Outside, Miranda climbed into her truck. “You coming with me?” she asked Tori.

  Her friend shook her head. “Lord knows I spend enough time at that place as it is. Unless you need me to,” she quickly added. “Of course I’ll come.” She started to walk around the front of the truck.

  “No, it’s okay, Tori.” Miranda started the truck and glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten-fifteen. “I’m just going to grab something quick, then head home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “All right then.” Tori leaned on the truck’s half-open door. “Try not to worry. We will find Shannon.”

  “I know.” But as Miranda drove to town, she continued to worry. She wasn’t particularly hungry, and she knew her animals waiting at home were, but right now she felt as though she could barely drag her tired body through chores. A cup of Mae’s famous stand-a-spoon-in-it coffee sounded pretty good. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would revive her. Miranda doubted she’d sleep tonight, anyway, worn-out or not. The thought of Shannon hurt and scared out there—God knew where—wouldn’t leave.

  The flashing neon lights of the Truck Inn came into view, casting a green-and-pink glow over the asphalt. Miranda parked and walked past the motel and gas station to the diner. Mae stood behind the counter, a clone of her twin, save for her bright red hair. She wore a frilly, plus-size Western blouse and black jeans that were a tad snug. She waved Miranda over the minute she stepped through the door.

  “Miranda, honey, I’ve got a bowl of stew with your name on it.” Before she could protest, Mae set a plain white bowl, heaped full, on the counter, then poured a steaming mug of coffee. “This will get you goin’. No mocha lattes here.” She winked. Whipping out a napkin and silverware with a practiced ease acquired from waiting on hungry truck drivers for decades, Mae urged her to sit down. “Any word on Shannon?”

  “Not yet.” Miranda blew on the coffee, then took a cautious sip. The strong brew nearly made her hair stand on end. Cowboy coffee. She set it down and added sugar. “The search party rode till dark. We’re going to pick up again at daylight.”

  “Tori called earlier. Said there was folks on horses, ATVs and on foot.” Mae shook her head. “You know, my fanny might be a tad too wide to ride, but I can sti
ll manage a hike. You let me know if you need an extra pair of eyes and I’ll be there with bells on.”

  Miranda gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Mae. I sure appreciate it.”

  A few customers sidled over and began to question Miranda about what had happened. She talked until she thought her brain would explode. The fact that her sister’s disappearance had become a source of gossip made her sick.

  Leaving her stew half-finished, she threw some money on the counter. “I’ve gotta get home and feed. Thanks for the stew and coffee, Mae.”

  “Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.” Mae swept the bowl out of sight and wiped the counter with an oversize damp cloth.

  Outside, Miranda pointed her Chevy down the road. Her head felt woozy from lack of sleep. Even the coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. Rolling down her window for a blast of cool night air, she focused on the drive.

  She’d barely started down the highway that led to the county road turnoff for her ranch when she spotted flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Heart pounding, Miranda pulled over. Shannon. They’d found Shannon.

  She was out of the truck before the familiar, dark green Blazer had even come to a complete stop behind her. Lucas slid from the SUV, scowling.

  “You’re supposed to stay in your vehicle when an officer of the law pulls you over.”

  “Did you find her?”

  “What? No.” His features softened. “That’s not why I stopped you.”

  “So, what—I have a taillight out? I was going fifty in a forty-five?” She folded her arms. “Lucas, I’m tired. Just write me a ticket for whatever I’ve done and I’ll be on my way.”

  “Are you always such delightful company?” He glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat, his face backlit by his headlights.

  She still found him far too attractive.

  “Are you always on duty? For crying out loud, I thought you’d be home sleeping by now.”

  “I could say the same of you, which, by the way, is why I pulled you over. You were weaving across the dotted line.”

  “I wasn’t.” Miranda frowned. “Was I?”

  “You’re dog-tired, with no business being behind the wheel. You could kill yourself—or someone else.”

  She felt stupid. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

  Lucas gestured, official-like. “Pull your truck over on that wide spot there and park it. You can get it in the morning after you’ve had some sleep.”

  She let her jaw drop. “And how do you expect me to get home?” He simply raised his brows. “Oh, no. I’m not riding with you.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “Lucas, I’m fine. I’m less than three miles from home.”

  “Move your truck. Now.” He spun on his heel.

  Cursing under her breath, even though she knew he was right, Miranda stomped over to the Chevy and moved it onto the pull off beside the highway. After locking the doors, she got into the passenger seat of the Blazer, refusing to look at Lucas. It was bad enough she’d had to be around him the better part of the day. But if he helped find Shannon…that was all that mattered.

  He drove in silence for a few minutes, with only the crackle of his police radio as background noise.

  “Don’t you ever sleep?” she finally asked.

  “On occasion.”

  “So you can drive tired, but I can’t?”

  He shot her a sideways look. “I’m used to long hours. And your mom’s already beside herself with worry. She doesn’t need me showing up on her doorstep telling her I scraped you out of a ditch.” He turned off onto the county road.

  Miranda faced straight ahead, blinking against the tired, gritty feeling behind her eyes. Shannon. Where are you?

  Miranda’s Australian shepherds, Tuck and Smudge, trotted down the driveway, barking as Lucas pulled beneath the arched entrance to her ranch. The sign, hanging from it by sturdy chains, creaked in the wind. Bush Creek Ranch—Barrel Racing Clinic. Horses Broke and Trained. Lessons Available.

  Surrounded by mountains, thick timber and brush, her one hundred acres was a haven, the seclusion more than welcome after such a stressful day.

  “Thanks for the ride,” Miranda said grudgingly. She’d opened the door and gotten out when, to her annoyance, Lucas turned off the engine and did the same. She slammed the passenger door. “What are you doing?”

  “Helping you feed. I’m officially off duty in two minutes.”

  “I don’t need help, thanks.”

  “Don’t be so damn stubborn. It’s late. Listen to them.” He nodded toward the barn and surrounding corrals. Horses whinnied and nickered, impatient at having missed their evening meal. “Two can feed faster than one.”

  She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with the man who’d left her in a church and a white dress. But she needed him to help find Shannon.

  Clamping her lips together, Miranda led the way to the barn. She pulled bales from the haystack and cut the twine, not saying a word. She knew she was behaving ungratefully—that she should thank Lucas for lending a hand, despite their personal grudges.

  It was as she threw hay to the pretty red roan in the last stall that Miranda’s emotions got the best of her. She bit her lip—hard—and blinked back tears. She’d been training the roan as a barrel horse. For Shannon.

  “Miranda?” Lucas laid a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged away as though she’d been burned. “I’m fine. Just stretching my neck.” She moved her head back and forth, massaging her pinched muscles.

  “Let me.” She tried to knock them aside, but his hands found their way to either edge of her collarbone, and he worked his strong thumbs and fingers up and down her shoulders, her neck, getting rid of the kinks.

  She closed her eyes, fighting her misgivings. The past was the past. Shannon was missing and possibly in grave danger, out in the wilderness alone—or worse. Up until that very minute, Miranda had wanted to pretend her sister was all right. That she’d merely taken a spill from her horse, whacked her head and gotten disoriented. That she’d show up any minute now on their mother’s doorstep, hurt but okay. She would laughingly explain what had happened. Lost my bearings. Got turned around in the trees and the dark.

  But Shannon knew the woods and mountains like her own backyard. They were her backyard. One she and Miranda had grown up in, riding with their mom. Taking groups out with Paige from the time they were old enough to sit a horse.

  Miranda stepped away from Lucas again and dropped onto a bale of hay. “I can’t stop thinking about Jo Ella.” She was just twenty-one. Shannon was older, probably stronger. Could she fight off an attacker? Was that where the blood had come from?

  “Miranda, Lonnie Masterson is in jail. He can’t hurt Shannon.”

  “He’s not the only kook out there, you know. Bad things happen in small towns, too.”

  Lucas let out a tired sigh. “Try not to worry,” he said. “We’re going to find her.”

  Miranda bit her lips again, nodding. “Yeah.”

  But would it be too late?

  CHAPTER THREE

  LUCAS FOLLOWED MIRANDA to the house, accepting her offer of a Coke to go. He needed caffeine. But when he walked into the living room, he collapsed, every tired bone in his body aching. He perched on the end of the black leather couch. Just for a minute. The gray-and-blue throw pillows behind him, embroidered with horses, felt mighty inviting.

  Miranda narrowed her eyes when she handed him his Coke a moment later, but said nothing. Instead, she slipped off her boots and sat at the opposite end of the couch, tucking her feet beneath her. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow?”

  “We’ll get the search team out again…more volunteers. Kyle Miller’s living in Bozeman now, working with search and rescue.” Miranda had dated Kyle, back when they were kids. “He’s got a tracking dog. I spoke to Kyle earlier, and he’s going to bring the dog over. We’ll see if he can pick up Shannon’s trail.”

  Hope lit Miranda’s eye
s. “Good. I still can’t believe this is happening.” She pulled the band from her ponytail and raked a hand through her long, dark hair. Lucas recalled how tense her muscles had felt when he’d rubbed her neck and shoulders. He wished she’d let him comfort her.

  Quiet claimed the room as Miranda sat lost in thought. Lucas let his own mind drift, mapping out the search procedure for tomorrow. They had to find Shannon. He wouldn’t rest until they did.

  He wasn’t even aware that he’d dozed off until he awoke with a jerk. Disoriented for a moment, Lucas wondered where he was. Finding Miranda snuggled against him answered that question. She slept fitfully, her forehead creased. Her hair tumbled in disarray around her shoulders. It looked as if she’d fallen asleep, then inched her way prone, her knees now tucked close to her chest as she lay curled against him. She murmured something in her sleep.

  Unable to resist, he reached down and caressed her face. If only things could be different…

  She sighed, and the tense lines relaxed as he stroked her. The rough-and-tumble cowgirl—not afraid to ride the wildest horse or even a bull in her high school days—felt soft and feminine beneath his hand, her body warm. He hated to wake her, and wished he could stretch out beside her and wrap her in his arms.

  “Miranda,” he said softly. She came instantly awake. Her eyes shot open, and widened when she saw him. She sat up.

  “I guess I was tired. What are you still doing here?”

  “I dozed off, too.”

  “What time is it?” She covered a yawn and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “Five? Crud. I need to shower.” She rose quickly. “The search party’s going to meet at six?”

  He nodded.

  “Cripes! I forgot I don’t have my truck.” She glared at him, dispelling all fantasies he’d harbored a moment ago.

  “I’ll run you to get it after your shower. Meanwhile, I’ll head home and take one myself. Need any help with your morning chores?”