Montana Sheriff

by Marie Ferrarella

  Her breath hitched in her throat. She couldn’t even hug Wayne because she was afraid she’d dislodge something important. Something that was undoubtedly keeping him alive.

  Ronnie tried to push down the lump in her throat.

  Her mind was having trouble accepting that this was Wayne. Wayne, who’d always been a huge tower of strength in her life. Wayne, who had seemed so invincible to her when she’d been growing up. Oh, they fought a lot and she accused him of being overbearing and dictatorial, but in her heart she always knew that if she needed him, he’d be there, watching over her because he was her big brother.

  For a second, she thought her knees would crumble. But even as she thought that, she couldn’t let it happen, couldn’t allow herself to break down. Wayne needed her to be the strong one this time. He needed her to be his strength until he could access his own.

  So, summoning all the fortitude she had within her, Ronnie moved slowly toward her brother’s bed. Taking one of his hands in hers, she wrapped her fingers around it. His hand felt cold.

  It chilled her heart.

  Digging deep for some inner strength, she managed to keep her voice sounding incredibly chipper.

  “Boy, you don’t do things in half measures, do you, Wayne?” she asked. But even as she spoke, she found she needed to lower her voice because she was afraid that it would crack on her. “When you get into an accident, you really get into an accident. Well, okay, I get it. Fun’s over. You’ve had your fun. But I’m here now and I’m going to see to it that you stop this little charade and get back on your feet. Dad can’t run the ranch alone, you know. Rowdy’s a good guy and all, but we both know that he’s got the IQ of a boot—and not a very smart boot at that.”

  She paused a second, afraid that she would lose it. But she didn’t and in another moment, she was able to continue.

  “So you’ve got to get back on your feet and that’s all there is to it. I can stick around for a little while, and I’ll do a better job than you can, but I’ve got a job in Seattle I’ve got to get back to so I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  She was babbling now and she knew it, but she couldn’t stop. She kept hoping that her brother would say something to her, tell her to “stop all that racket” the way he always used to when he insisted that she was talking too much.

  “I’m putting you on notice, Wayne. You’ve got two weeks. Three tops. And then you’ve got to stop fooling around like this and get back to work. You hear me? Squeeze my hand to let me know you’re listening. C’mon, Wayne, squeeze my hand.”

  His fingers remained still. She pressed her lips together to keep from crying.

  “Okay,” she allowed, her voice quivering. “You don’t want to squeeze my hand now. Squeeze it later,” she said. “But you are going to squeeze it. And you are going to get up and walk out of here, you understand me?” she demanded, her voice finally cracking.

  Ever so slowly, Ronnie became aware of someone standing beside her, offering her something. Forcing herself to turn her head, she saw Cole holding out a handkerchief.

  “I don’t need that,” she told him, waving it away.

  Instead of arguing with her, Cole gently took her chin in one hand and slowly wiped away the wet tracks that ran down both her cheeks with the other. Only then did he say, “I think you do.” Pocketing the handkerchief when he was finished, he asked, “Want me to take you home now?”

  Ronnie didn’t want to go home, she wanted to stay. To stay here and somehow will her brother to come out of his coma and open his eyes.

  But she knew there was no way she could do that. Getting her brother to come around was way beyond her sphere of control, no matter how stubborn she was. So she nodded and whispered, “Yes, please.”

  Cole’s heart twisted to see her like this. To witness her pain and know that he could do nothing to make it better for her. That was entirely out of his hands. He could pull bodies out of a wreckage, but he couldn’t heal them. That kind of thing belonged to another realm entirely.

  As he slipped his arm around her shoulders ever so lightly, Cole doubted Ronnie was even aware of it. She seemed to be lost inside of her own world. Maybe it was better that way. She was insulating herself. God knew that he knew a few things about that.

  As gently as possible, Cole guided her out of the intensive care unit and into the antiseptic-smelling hallway. What renovations had been undertaken at the hospital over the years had involved their equipment, attempting to keep them up-to-date if not innovative. Since there was only so much money to be had, aesthetics were overlooked. Hence, the institution, while exceedingly reputable, had the look and smell of an old-fashioned hospital circa 1970.

  Ronnie hardly remembered walking back to the parking lot or getting into Cole’s truck. In essence, she had slipped into her own coma-like state, afraid to think, afraid to feel. And Cole, whether out of respect, intuition or because he hadn’t known what to say, hadn’t attempted to try to talk to her, or make her come around.

  When she finally pulled herself together and looked around, Ronnie realized that they were almost back at her father’s ranch.

  “He’s going to be all right,” she said suddenly and fiercely. Whether to convince herself or make a believer out of Cole even she didn’t know. All she knew was that she needed to hear the words. Needed him to hear them, too.

  “No reason not to believe that,” he replied as if this was part of an ongoing conversation between them, rather than a statement she’d made after forty-seven miles of silence.

  His response surprised her. That was definitely not something she had expected to hear coming out of Cole’s mouth.

  “That’s one of the most positive things I’ve ever heard you say,” she marveled.

  But even so, Ronnie knew better than to press her luck and ask Cole if he really believed what he’d just said, or whether he just saying it for her benefit. Instead, she clung to his words as if they were a guarantee, or better yet, a magic talisman. Because the strength of those words was going to have to see her through. She knew that there was no way she could look to her father for strength and support. This time around, he was the one who needed her to be strong for him.

  “Thanks for going with me to the hospital,” she said to Cole. “I know you’ve got better things to do than to play nursemaid.”

  “Not at the moment,” he told her, a sliver of humor quirking his mouth. “And you’re welcome,” he added.

  His voice gave no indication that he ached for her. Or that he foresaw more pain for her in the near future. From what the doctor had told him, Wayne’s chances were definitely not the best. The man would need a small miracle to pull through and be his old self—or close to it.

  “You can stop here,” Ronnie told him abruptly.

  Cole looked at her quizzically. They had a bit of a way to go in his opinion. “You don’t want me to drop you off at the door?”

  “No, this is fine. You’ve already gone more than out of your way,” she told him.

  Doing as she instructed, Cole cut the engine and then looked at her for a long moment. Was she trying to keep him from coming in with her? Or was he reading too much into this? Was it just a matter of what she’d said, that she felt she’d taken up too much of his time already? He wanted her to know that he was available to her if she needed him.

  Ronnie got out of the truck. “Well, bye. Thanks,” she threw in again.

  This felt suspiciously like he was being bum-rushed. Rather than start up the truck again, Cole got out of the cab.

  “What are you doing?” she asked uneasily.

  Since it was pretty clear what he was doing, he didn’t bother answering her question. Instead, he crossed to her. “Look, Ronnie, if you need someone to talk to, I just want you to know that I’m around.”

  “I know that, Cole.” Damn it, he was being so nice, it made her feel even worse. “And I appreciate it. But right now, I just want to go inside and lie down.”

  This had all been too muc
h for her. He could appreciate that. “Sure, I understand. Offer still stands, though.”

  Just as he turned to go, the front door to the ranch opened. Instead of her father or the housekeeper walking out, Cole saw a towheaded little boy come flying down the porch steps.

  Before he could even wonder out loud who the boy belonged to, he heard the child all but sing out, “Mama, Mama!” uttering the mantra almost at the top of his lungs—which demonstrated considerable strength, given his young age.

  Breaking into a run, the little boy made the distance between himself and his target disappear in a blink of an eye.

  As Cole looked on, stunned, the boy flung himself at Ronnie, who had knelt down, her arms opened to receive the little blond missile.

  Chapter Six

  Even as she embraced Christopher, returning the little boy’s fierce, enthusiastic hug—something she never took for granted—Ronnie prepared herself for what was to come.

  The seconds ticked by and her feeling of foreboding grew. It was like waiting for a bomb to go off.

  Cole wasn’t saying anything.

  For a long moment—most likely because he was completely stunned—there was nothing but silence from the man standing next to her.

  And then she heard Cole’s low, rumbling voice. He said rather than asked, “You have a son.”

  Releasing Christopher, Ronnie slowly rose to her feet and drew in a long breath as subtly as she could manage. Steady as she goes, Ronnie, she coached herself.

  Making an effort to avoid looking at Cole, she affirmed, “I have a son.”

  Cole frowned, glancing toward the house. Bracing himself even as he asked, “Where’s his father?”

  Okay, here’s the big question. You can get through this. Just don’t blow it.

  Ronnie turned toward him almost in slow motion, praying she wasn’t revealing anything in her eyes or that he couldn’t see through the practiced, patient expression on her face.

  “His father and I aren’t together anymore,” she told him stoically.

  Taking the snippet of information in, Cole nodded as if he’d expected nothing less. “Ran out on another one, did you?”

  She had to keep from exploding. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded angrily.

  He’d already turned away from her and started walking back toward his truck. “Way I remember it, you were always really smart, Ronnie. I think you can figure that one out on your own.”

  Yes, she could, and even thinking about it ripped open old wounds that hadn’t healed so much as had been shoved away and ignored.

  “I didn’t run out on you,” she cried, summoning indignation even though she knew she had done exactly that.

  Cole stopped walking and glanced at her over his shoulder. “No? Then what would you have called it? Walking really fast?” he suggested sarcastically.

  Putting her hands on Christopher’s shoulders protectively, she told Cole, “Making the right decision for me.”

  Cole took a breath, trying very hard not to let his imagination go. Trying not to think of her in someone else’s arms. Making love with someone else.

  Jealousy threatened to consume him.

  He looked at her for a long moment, then his eyes skimmed over the boy’s bright, wide-open face. The kid, he thought, had an infectious smile. He looked happy. And well.

  “I guess maybe you did,” Cole finally said. He opened the truck door on his side. “Tell your dad I said hey.”

  Breaking loose, Christopher ran up to him just as he was about to get into his truck. The boy tugged urgently on his sleeve.

  Nothing shy about this one, Cole thought, then couldn’t help adding, just like his mother.

  When he paused to look down quizzically at the small face, the little boy asked, “Are you a sheriff?”

  “Yes, I’m a sheriff.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ronnie shift nervously. Did she think he was going to interrogate the kid?

  The little boy’s brilliant green eyes—Ronnie’s eyes, Cole thought—grew until they were almost the size of huge emerald-green saucers.

  “For real?” he asked the question breathlessly.

  Despite himself, despite the fact that this was a child that Ronnie had had with someone else—something that ripped the hell out of his soul—Cole found he had to struggle not to laugh at the boy’s earnest wonder.

  “For real,” he assured the little boy as solemnly as he could.

  The questioning session wasn’t over. Somehow, he hadn’t thought he’d get away so easily, Cole mused. “Like on TV?” Ronnie’s son asked.

  Cole leaned down and pretended to whisper in his ear, “Better.”

  The shining green eyes were now dancing. “Wow,” he cried, clearly impressed. Turning on his heel, Ronnie’s son looked at his mother. “I’m gonna be a sheriff, too, when I grow up,” he announced, making up his mind then and there.

  Tension telegraphed itself throughout Ronnie’s body. Watching Cole interact with Christopher this way was causing all sorts of bittersweet feelings.

  Her eyes were all but riveted to his face. To her relief, there was no discernable spark of enlightenment.

  He doesn’t realize he’s talking to his son, she thought, willing herself to relax.

  “You’ve still got a couple of days left before you grow up,” Ronnie told her son so solemnly for a second Cole thought she was serious. “We’ll talk about it then, Christopher.”

  “’Kay.” Christopher nodded solemnly. He still wasn’t at the stage where he contested everything his mother told him. Ronnie counted herself lucky.

  “That his name?” Cole asked. “Christopher?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Christopher what?” he wanted to know.

  “McCloud,” the boy piped up, then declared proudly, “My name’s Christopher McCloud.”

  McCloud. That was Ronnie’s last name. Did that mean she’d never married the boy’s father? Or was that just her perverse independent streak coming to the surface? For now, he kept the question to himself.

  “Nice to meet you, Christopher McCloud,” he said, shaking the boy’s hand.

  The moment he released her son’s hand, she took it in hers, as if reestablishing her claim to the boy. And then she looked over her son’s head at Cole. “Thanks for the ride and the company.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he murmured.

  For the moment, it was a toss-up whether he was more stunned or angry that the woman he’d been pining for all these years had hooked up with someone almost the moment she’d been out of his line of vision. Right now, the thought left him numb.

  “Let’s go inside and see your grandpa,” Ronnie coaxed her son. Turning, she started walking toward the house—and shelter.

  Rather than follow along, Christopher glanced over his shoulder at the tall man he had just met. “Wanna come to dinner, Sheriff?” he called out hopefully. “Juanita’s got chops.”

  Amused, Cole crossed back to the boy and dropped down to his level. Christopher couldn’t be talking about the woman’s courage. He doubted if someone as young as the kid looked knew what that expression meant—even if he did sound a little precocious.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Grandpa’s house helper said she was making chops,” Christopher explained agreeably, then confided, “She let me help get them ready.”

  Cole looked up at Ronnie for an explanation. “He must mean pork chops,” she said. “I saw Juanita defrosting them this morning.”

  On the one hand, she felt on edge having Cole here for two reasons—because she was afraid he might guess he was Christopher’s father and because just being around him made her mind wander to places it had no business revisiting. On the other hand, though, he had been helpful taking her to the hospital to see Wayne and if she encouraged him to leave, he might get suspicious about her reasons.

  Stuck, she decided that maybe it was safer to invite him to stay—and to hope that he would turn her down. That way, her conscien
ce was clear and she was still safe in the bargain.

  “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like,” she told him pleasantly.

  Cole looked at his watch. It was a little after six. If he hadn’t heard from his deputy by now, that meant there was nothing going on in Redemption that required his attention. In other words, it was business as usual at the police station. Most likely, Tim had already left for the day.

  They both had cell phones whose numbers were a matter of public record. And whoever was the last to leave the office programmed the official police landline to forward any calls to their cells so that if one of the town’s citizens felt that they had an emergency on their hands, he or she could immediately get a hold of at least one of them.

  Cole turned Ronnie’s invitation over in his head and then nodded. He knew the invitation was forced, but he found himself wanting to stick around a little longer. He refrained from enumerating the reasons why. He made a mental note to call his mother, let her know that something had come up and that he was taking a rain check on that dinner.

  “Well, I haven’t had pork chops in a while.” He looked down at Christopher. The kid really did have just about the sunniest smile he’d ever seen, Cole thought. Before he knew it, he had ruffled the boy’s hair. “Okay, you talked me into it.”

  “Yay!” Christopher cried, happy and excited at the same time. Breaking away from his mother, he ran into the house. “Grandpa, Grandpa,” he called out, all but bursting in through the door, “we’re gonna have a real live sheriff eatin’ chops with us!”

  Cole looked from the house to Ronnie. “He always get that excited?” he asked.

  “He’s a happy kid. Takes almost nothing to get him going,” she said, affection weaving through every word. Aware that it was just the two of them again, she roused herself. “I’d better go in and tell Juanita to put another plate on the table.”

  Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, he thought, hearing a note of hesitation in her voice. “You don’t mind, do you?”

  Was it his imagination, or did she just square her shoulders as if she was about to go into some kind of a battle?