Montana Sheriff

by Marie Ferrarella

  “You always did have a silver tongue,” she recalled, grinning at Cole. “Maybe you should have made a run for state senator instead of just the sheriff.”

  “Being ‘just the sheriff’ is as far as I want to go up the public servant ladder,” Cole told her, echoing the phrase she’d uttered so carelessly. He was teasing her because he had taken no offense, knowing she had intended none. He watched her now, obviously waiting for an answer. “So is that yes? You’ll come to the barn raising?”

  “That’s yes.” And then she laughed. “As if you had any doubts.”

  Maybe not exactly doubts, but he had never counted chickens until well after all the eggs had hatched. “With you, Ronnie, I take nothing for granted.”

  Hearing that should have gone a long way to reassure her that she was still free to return to Seattle. That he wouldn’t try to keep her here because he knew she was her own person. But the bottom line was that it didn’t reassure her. She couldn’t begin to explain why, even to herself. So she focused on something she didn’t need to explain or explore. The invitation. “It really is going to be a barn raising?” she asked.

  “Barn raising, dance, barbecue, you name it, it’s going to be taking place at Bill’s ranch this Saturday,” he told her. “All day. Bill plans to put everyone to work, then reward them.”

  “Reward?” she echoed. Had neighbors started paying one another for services rendered since she’d left?

  He nodded. “Man makes a mean barbecue chicken. Makes you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven, just eating at his table.”

  Ronnie nodded. The memories all came back to her. “I remember.”

  “Nice to know,” he said. “I can stop by at eight on Saturday, take you, your dad and Christopher to Bill’s place, get you started working early.”

  “I’m going to work?” the high-pitched voice asked, confused, as Christopher bounced into the kitchen at the tail end of what Cole was saying.

  “You, too, little man,” Cole told the boy, stooping down to his level. He restrained himself from ruffling the boy’s hair although the urge to do so was almost always present. The boy had taken a shine to him. And it was mutual, Cole thought fondly. “It’s going to be a barn raising.”

  Wheat-colored eyebrows scrunched together over Christopher’s close-to-perfect little nose. “I’m going to be helping pick up a barn?” he asked, giving it careful consideration. And then his face brightened, his eyebrows parted company and, unfurrowing his brow, he grinned. “Cool.”

  Laughing, Cole couldn’t resist scooping the boy up into his arms. As he rose up, he tucked Christopher against his hip the way he’d seen mothers do with their younger children. The boy was small for his age, Cole had already noted more than once, but that was of no consequence. Christopher would fill out.

  Just like he had.

  He could remember despairing at the boy’s age, worried that he would remain peanut-sized, a nickname his father had pinned to him without realizing how demoralizing it was. To his overwhelming relief, he’d shot up over six inches the summer between his sophomore and junior year. His father was forced to stop calling him “Peanut.”

  “Yeah, ‘cool,’” Cole agreed.

  Because he was looking at the boy in his arms, Cole missed the look his mother exchanged with Ronnie as both women took in the scene of man and boy and pressed it to their hearts.

  For different reasons.

  Chapter Fourteen

  As she got ready to go pick up her brother from the hospital, Ronnie debated asking Rowdy to come with her. She decided against it despite the fact that she might need a hand with getting Wayne into the truck. He claimed to be fine, but she knew he was still weak. She didn’t want him exerting himself needlessly because he was thickheaded and macho.

  But she instinctively knew that Wayne would be less than thrilled if she brought the ranch foreman along with her to help out. A visit from any of the men who now, or at any point in the past, worked on the ranch, was one thing, but having to possibly lean on a man who was, after all, the hired help for physical support was another matter entirely.

  She didn’t need to be told that the possibility of such a scenario offended her brother’s sensibilities and troubled his sense of the natural order of things. Hired hands were never put into the position of strength if that position directly affected their boss and cut into the whole power hierarchy thing that men seemed to have going for them, Ronnie thought, shaking her head. Even being justifiably weak because of surgery and prolonged bed rest was not enough of an excuse to have Rowdy propping him up. It all had to do with ego and pride.

  And they said women were complicated.

  As she stopped in the kitchen to get a drink before she left, Ronnie saw Midge. The other woman was in the middle of baking up a storm. Her father had a weakness for her cinnamon apple pie, especially with its hint of Amaretto.

  After satisfying her thirst, Ronnie turned to the other woman and said, “I’m going to Helena to pick up Wayne from the hospital. I’ve got a feeling I might need a hand getting him squared away in the truck. Got any suggestions?”

  Midge paused, her friendly face cheerfully dotted with a smidge of flour. “You mean like who to take with you to help if you need it?”

  “Yes,” Ronnie answered.

  The other woman eyed her as if the answer was self-evident. “Why don’t you ask Cole to come with you? I’m sure he’d be glad to lend a hand.”

  Would Cole see it that way? Or would he view it as an imposition on his time? Granted they had become intimate, but she had no idea what the ground rules were between them. No promises had been made, no requests, either. Six years ago, he’d told her he wanted her to stay, that he wanted to build a life together. Now, while he made her blood sing in her veins, he never made any reference to their future together, or even if he thought they had a future together. For all she knew, he’d taken it for granted that she was going back to Seattle once Wayne was home and back on his feet.

  Why shouldn’t he? You said as much, remember? she upbraided herself.

  That didn’t change the fact that she still had no idea how to read Cole. Her mind insisted that nothing had changed since the last time she’d been in Redemption. Her gut told her otherwise.

  How could it not have changed? They were both six years older, both had gone separate ways to forge a life for themselves and there was a child now, a product of the first night they had spent together.

  Yeah, a child he knows nothing about. At least, not in the way that it counts. Nice going, Ronnie, she silently mocked herself. This is a disaster waiting to happen. A disaster of your own making.

  “Any particular reason you’re not asking Cole?” Midge finally asked when she made no response to the initial suggestion.

  Ronnie shrugged evasively. “He’s the sheriff. I don’t want to bother him. He’s probably busy.”

  “Any reason that actually makes sense?” Midge specified. She raised her eyes to Ronnie’s face, pinning her in place as she waited for an answer.

  Ronnie sighed. Cole’s mother was right. Wayne and Cole were friends. Wayne felt comfortable around him. That made Cole the likely choice.

  Besides, no matter what did happen, it would all be over soon. The horses were being shipped out on Monday. Everything would be neatly tied up and paid off by the end of next week. There would be no real reason for her to stick around. She’d be free to go back to Seattle.

  And away from Cole.

  She bit her lower lip, trying to ignore the wave of loneliness that thought generated. She might as well avail herself of Cole’s company as much as she could now. She had a lifetime of being without Cole looming ahead of her.

  “I guess not,” Ronnie finally admitted, answering Midge’s innocent inquiry.

  Finished making the pie crust and mixing together the filling, Midge turned her attention to the cookie dough she’d prepared earlier. Pinching off a piece, she rolled it between her fingers, then placed it on a cookie tr
ay, smoothing out the uneven sphere until it was capable of rolling around on the table if she gave it a push. Especially after she gave it, and each cookie that followed, a dusting of powdered sugar.

  “Good,” she pronounced. “Glad you agree. Now give my son a call.” It was almost a direct order. “I can give you his cell phone number if you don’t already have it,” Midge volunteered.

  “No, I have it, thanks,” Ronnie murmured, taking out her own phone.

  Seeking a little privacy away from Midge, who actually gave no indication that she wanted to listen in on the exchange, Ronnie quickly pressed the numbers on the keypad.

  Within less than a minute, she heard the phone on the other end being picked up. Her pulse instantly accelerated and she cursed herself for her adolescent reaction.

  “Cole? Cole, this is Ronnie,” she began, aware that she was talking a little too fast.

  “No need to tell me,” she heard him say. “I could always recognize your voice. What’s up?” he asked amiably.

  For a second, she went utterly blank. Why did the mere sound of his voice scramble her brain like this? What was the matter with her? She was a grown woman with a child to support and raise, not some air-headed teenager, daydreaming about the hunk in math class.

  Taking a breath, she did her best to sound nonchalant—feeling anything but. “Are you busy?”

  “Depends,” he drawled into the phone.

  This was a bad idea. She never liked putting herself on the line, asking for favors and leaving herself vulnerable. But she’d started this, which meant she was stuck now. She might as well see this through.

  “On what?” she heard herself asking.

  “On whether you consider talking to you as qualifying me to be busy.” She heard him chuckle. The deep, rumbly sound undulated through her entire system. She was absolutely hopeless, Ronnie thought in disgust. “What do you need?” he asked her.

  I need to start behaving like an adult. “I thought that if you weren’t busy, you might come with me to pick Wayne up from the hospital. Doctor said he could come home today and he’s chomping at the bit.” Wayne had already called her twice, reminding her of his release and asking her to come as soon as possible.

  “Oh, that’s right, he’s being released today, isn’t he?”

  Was it her imagination, or did that sound a trifle too innocent? She knew Cole—he hadn’t forgotten. Cole never forgot anything. He had an amazing head for facts, figures and dates. If Cole didn’t remember something, it wasn’t worth remembering.

  “Yes,” she answered impatiently. “Look, if you have something else to do, that’s okay. I can manage this by myself.”

  “Never doubted that you couldn’t,” he told her.

  Now what was that supposed to mean? she wondered, feeling her temper flare. Reining it in, she was about to ask him what he meant by his comment, but before she could put that into words, she heard someone knocking.

  “Hold on,” she said into the wireless receiver. “There’s someone at the door.”

  “Better open it, then,” he agreed.

  Now he was giving her permission to answer her own door? Just who the hell did he think he was?

  The love of your life, an annoying little voice whispered in her head.

  Already at the door, Ronnie yanked it open a little too fast.

  And found herself looking up into Cole’s face.

  “You could have told me that you were standing on my doorstep,” she said accusingly.

  Cole walked in, grinning. “And miss the expression on your face just now? No way,” he told her, more than a little amused.

  Behind her, from within the house, she could hear a set of size three boots flying down the stairs and then hitting the wooden floor as Christopher came bounding over, drawn by the sound of Cole’s voice.

  “Hi, Sheriff!” the little boy all but crowed happily.

  “Hi yourself, short stuff.” Cole returned the boy’s greeting, as well as the grin on Christopher’s face.

  “You gonna go to get Uncle Wayne, too?” the boy asked him.

  Ronnie looked down at her son. “What do you mean, ‘too’?” she repeated. She’d brought Christopher with her a couple of times when she’d gone to visit Wayne, as well as bringing her father. She thought it important that Wayne have contact with his family and that both her father and her son got to see Wayne. But this was different. She wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible. Having an entourage along would only get in the way. “You’re staying here with Grandpa,” she informed her son.

  Christopher looked crestfallen. “Aw, Mom. I wanna go help Uncle Wayne walk.”

  She stared at the boy. Where had he picked that up from? It was obvious that she would have to be more careful what she said and where she said it. Christopher had apparently developed superhearing since they’d come to Redemption.

  But before she could tell her son that she really needed him to remain here with his grandfather, Midge came to her rescue.

  “Hey, Christopher, I’m going to need a cookie taster for the next batch of cookies I’m making. Know where I could find one?”

  The boy’s eyes instantly lit up. “Me,” he declared, puffing up his very small chest. “I can help you. And Grandpa, too,” he added brightly. “He’ll taste cookies for you.”

  Midge struggled to suppress her grin. “But I thought you were going to the hospital with your mom,” Midge said with the most serious face she could manage under the circumstances.

  For a moment, Christopher appeared torn between the two choices. His expression was solemn as he looked from his mother to the offer he really didn’t want to turn down.

  Then he pronounced, “It’s okay, she’s got the sheriff with her. He can help. He’s real strong. I saw his muscles,” he confided, then lowered his voice as he added, “He let me touch them.”

  Midge glanced from Ronnie to her son and smiled. “Yes,” she agreed easily, “your mom certainly does have the sheriff.”

  His eyes darted toward his mother, a warning look in them. Sometimes, his mother just went too far. But then, he supposed he couldn’t fault her. She just wanted what most mothers wanted: to see their son or daughter married and surrounded with kids of their own.

  Cole looked down at the animated boy in front of him. He’d never been that partial to children, but he had to admit that he’d taken to Ronnie’s son. The boy was a regular crackerjack. And he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t get a kick out of interacting with Christopher.

  “Be sure to save me a few, kid,” he instructed Christopher.

  Delighted to be given the go-ahead by his hero, Christopher almost crowed, “You bet! A whole bunch,” he promised with enthusiasm.

  “Tell Uncle Wayne I’ll play with him when he gets home!” Christopher piped up as his mother started to walk out of the kitchen.

  “I’m sure that’ll make him very happy,” Ronnie told her son. She paused for a second to kiss Christopher goodbye. With an eye toward his hero, Christopher squirmed a little bit. Her little boy was growing up, she thought sadly. It really did happen much too fast. “Be good,” she instructed.

  “Take care of your grandpa and my mom while we’re gone,” Cole said to the boy.

  Christopher beamed, then struggled to look serious and worthy of the responsibility he’d been awarded.

  “I will, Sheriff,” he promised solemnly.

  “Good man,” Cole told the little boy just before he followed Ronnie out of the kitchen and then out through the front door.

  Once outside, Ronnie paused.

  “Forget something?” Cole asked her.

  These days, it felt as if she was constantly second-guessing herself. She really didn’t care for the feeling. “I’m just wondering if I should bring my dad along.”

  “Why?” he asked. “Isn’t that why I’m coming with you? Just how big do you think Wayne’s gotten?”

  She waved away his words. “That’s not it. I just don’t want my father to
feel like I’m trying to exclude him.”

  Cole laughed quietly and shook his head. His truck was parked right out front and he approached it now, making the assumption that he was the one driving. Which was fine with him. On the way back, he figured that Ronnie would want to remain in the back of the extended cab with Wayne.

  Cole laughed. “I think your dad would rather hang around my mother, supervising the baked goods coming out of the oven.”

  “Really.” It wasn’t a question but rather more of an expression of surprise. She didn’t think that Cole was even aware of what had been going on.

  “What? You didn’t think I noticed?” Cole asked, amused. He would have to be blind to have missed the sparks between Amos and his mother. “My mother’s sweet on your father, and from what I can see, he seems to be sweet on her.”

  Ushering Ronnie gently over toward the passenger side of his truck, he then rounded the front and got in behind the wheel. He waited for her to buckle up before turning his key in the ignition.

  “The way I see it,” he continued matter-of-factly, “it’s just a matter of time before we become brother and sister.”

  “Stepbrother and stepsister,” Ronnie corrected, inserting the key prefix that he’d so cavalierly left out. “Otherwise it becomes something that would have pestilence and wrath being rained down on our heads—not to mention that we’d both probably wind up being turned into pillars of salt.” That said, she stopped teasing. “You really think that your mother and my father would…?”

  Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the right words. It was hard thinking of her father as having the same kind of feelings that haunted her.

  “Do what we did out in the field? And in the barn and in the back of my truck, not to mention in—?”

  She raised her hand to stop him. “Point made,” she declared loudly. “And I was about to say, ‘Get married,’” she informed him. “I really wasn’t going for that kind of a visual.”