Reunited with the Sheriff

by Belle Calhoune

  For so long she’d suppressed the memory. Now it sliced like a sharp knife through the hazy veil she’d placed over it. That night flashed before her eyes like footage from a movie reel.

  The four roses had been enjoying a girls’ night out. They’d enjoyed dinner at the Falls Diner followed by bowling at Lucky’s. She’d recently gotten her license and had wanted to drive her girlfriends around in the used 4Runner her parents had given her for her birthday. For months now Holly and Regina had taken turns driving them around, since she and Jenna hadn’t yet passed their road tests. Tonight she’d wanted to be the one carrying the keys and picking all the girls up and dropping them back home. It was a rite of passage she’d looked forward to for months.

  There had been light rain all evening, adding a dreariness to an otherwise fun night. Once they’d finished bowling, boredom had set in. One of the girls—she couldn’t remember who—had suggested they play the chicken game. They’d done it several times before. When it had been her turn she’d been a little nervous. She hadn’t been used to driving in the rain. She didn’t like the way the car skidded sometimes when she put on the brakes. Holly had been in the passenger seat and she’d taken her seat belt off so she could hang out the window and scream her lungs out. With the girls egging her on she’d darted between lanes, zigzagging with the car and careening out of her lane. When she’d hit a curve in the road the car had skidded, and despite her best efforts, she’d crashed into a stone wall. Upon impact she’d hit her head on the steering wheel and blacked out for a few moments. When she came to, Regina was screaming that she couldn’t find Holly while Jenna was still sitting in the backseat, silent and in a dazed state. By the time the ambulance had come she’d scrambled out of the car and found Holly’s body stretched out in the road about twenty feet from the car. The rest of the night had been a blur.

  She’d been taken by ambulance to the hospital where she’d been diagnosed with a minor concussion. It was at the hospital that she’d found out Holly’s spinal cord had been severed.

  The four roses had promised to take their secret to the grave.

  “Cassidy. Are you okay?”

  The rich timbre of Tate’s voice brought her back to the present. She shook her head to rid herself of the traumatic memories.

  “I’m fine. I should get going though. It’s really coming down out there.” She bit her lip as she watched the rain pour down in sheets.

  He gently turned her around so that she was facing him. “There could be downed trees, flooded roads. It’s just too risky to take a chance like that. Once Fiddlesticks delivers her foal I can drive us to the main house. You can stay in one of the guest rooms.”

  Cassidy sputtered. “I don’t think Maggie would approve of that plan.” She glanced over at Maggie, who was in the stall kneeling next to her mare. “She hates me.”

  Tate’s face held a rueful expression. “She doesn’t hate you. Her bark is much worse than her bite. She’s been holding all that in for eight years.”

  “I can’t imagine my mom would’ve reacted any differently.” Cassidy let out a sigh. “I just wonder when people will find it in their hearts to accept me without throwing the past in my face.”

  She knew she was feeling sorry for herself, but it wasn’t easy dealing with rejection. Especially from someone like Maggie who she still cared about. Once the Horseshoe Bend Ranch had been her second home, a place where she’d found love and acceptance. Maggie and Frank had adored her. She’d loved them dearly in return. It was painful dealing with the ramifications of the accident and her exodus from town. It was disheartening to know that people might never accept her and forgive her transgressions.

  But wasn’t that part of her journey? Making amends wasn’t a trivial thing. It was work, plain and simple. And in the end she might never find redemption. At least she would know she’d tried. She’d be leading with her heart instead of wallowing in fear and regret. She’d be living outside of her comfort zone and taking chances. She hadn’t done that for a very long time.

  And perhaps someday when she walked down Main Street she’d receive smiles instead of stares. Until then she would just have to keep laying the foundation for forgiveness, brick by brick.

  * * *

  By nightfall Fiddlesticks had delivered her foal, and the storm raging through West Falls was in full effect. Cassidy had called her worried parents, informing them that she’d be staying the night at the ranch. Tate’s mother had already headed back up to the house. Tate was thankful for Cassidy’s presence during the difficult foal birth. When Fiddlesticks had been in heavy labor he’d realized one of the foal’s legs had been bent at an odd angle and impeding the delivery. His experience had helped in the process since he knew that he’d have to realign the foal’s positioning in order for her to push the foal out. Once he’d done that, Fiddlesticks had easily delivered her foal.

  “He’s gorgeous,” Cassidy cooed, once he’d cleared the foal of the amniotic sac and she was able to get a good look at him.

  The foal looked just like his mama. He was the color of midnight. The only difference between the two was the white star on his forehead.

  “He’s something isn’t he?” Tate beamed with pride. This newest foal wasn’t just a miracle of nature. He was the living, breathing embodiment of Horseshoe Bend Ranch. Horse breeding was his family’s bread and butter. It would be a legacy handed down to generations of Lynches.

  “He sure is,” Cassidy said, her voice filled with admiration. She was making sure to keep a safe distance from Fiddlesticks and her foal. He’d made a point to warn Cassidy about the perils of getting too close to overprotective mares.

  “What are you going to name him?” Cassidy asked.

  He thought about it for a second. “Why don’t you name him.”

  “Seriously?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Her face lit up like pure sunshine.

  “Yup. I’ve named dozens of foals. You stuck it out and helped me bring him into the world. And you got stranded here at the ranch in the process. It’s only fitting that you have the honor of naming him.” For Tate, nothing else would have felt right.

  She tapped her chin. “Hmmmm...the obvious choice would be to name him something like Coal or Jet because of his dark coloring. And there’s also Midnight or Trigger.”

  “You’d never make the obvious choice, would you, Cassidy?” he teased, feeling a lightheartedness he hadn’t felt in years. He wouldn’t have wanted to have shared this instant with anyone other than Cassidy. It felt like one of those moments when everything had aligned perfectly to make it happen. It was serendipity, he supposed.

  “Of course not,” she responded playfully. “I’m an artist. We’re very creative people,” she said with a feigned sniff. “We never resort to the obvious.”

  Tate laughed at her play acting. “Well then, lay it on me. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve come up with.”

  She snapped her fingers, her face animated. “I have a great name. Picasso. In honor of my favorite artist. Something tells me there’s not too many horses running around named Picasso.”

  Tate let the name marinate for a minute. Cassidy watched him carefully, her brows furrowed as she waited for his verdict. She began biting her lip. He thought it was adorable that she cared so much about his opinion. It was time to put her out of her misery. He grinned at her as he held two thumbs up. “That’s a great name for him. I’m proud to announce the birth of Picasso. The latest greatest addition to Horseshoe Bend Ranch.”

  Tate reached out and placed his arms around her. He was happy she was here. He felt blessed that they were able to share this miracle together. For a moment Cassidy clung to him, her hands gripping the fabric of his shirt. She relaxed against him, placing her face in the crook of his arm. He reached for her chin, turning her face toward him so he could see her. Expressive green eyes looked back at him, filled with a ch
allenge he wasn’t sure he could resist. Just as he was about to brush a kiss across her forehead she took a step back away from him.

  He looked at her, his gaze searching for an explanation. She met his eyes for a brief moment then broke eye contact, focusing instead on the stall behind him. For an instant he’d seen fear in her eyes. The thought that he’d done something to make her feel that way needled him, made him feel selfish for pushing too hard for something more than the easy friendship they’d settled into.

  “Maybe we should head to the house before the storm gets any worse,” she suggested, her voice sounding quiet.

  He nodded in agreement, his mouth feeling as dry as sawdust. He’d wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to throw all his regrets out the window and kiss Cassidy on her sweet lips with as much tenderness as he could muster. He wanted to take a chance and forget everything that had come before this moment. It would be a leap of faith, he knew, but every instinct was urging him to take a chance.

  But Cassidy hadn’t been sure. Perhaps his earlier warning about getting carried away with themselves had worked against him. Maybe his own fears had come back to bite him.

  He went into the tack room and rustled up two oversize rain slickers. Although the rain slicker was a few sizes too big for her, at least it would give her protection. As he opened the stable’s door, using his body to shield Cassidy from the brunt of the wind and rain, he had to use every ounce of his strength not to get pushed back by the elements. After a few tense moments he staggered to the truck, guiding Cassidy into the passenger seat before fighting his way to the driver’s side.

  If he hadn’t known the stretch of road like the back of his hand, the drive to the house would’ve been far more treacherous than it already was. Cassidy bit her nails during the entire ride. Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she stared out the window without uttering a single word. It was as if she was waiting for something terrible to happen at any moment. Fear. He knew it when he saw it. As a sheriff it was an emotion he was used to dealing with, whether it was a seven-year-old boy caught throwing a rock through a window or a thief nabbed for stealing from a cash register.

  Lord, please let me help Cassidy ease her fears. Let me show her that she’s safe with me. I’ll never allow harm to come to her, not as long as I can help it.

  As they approached the main house, Tate quickly noticed it lay in complete darkness, with the exception of a few lights glimmering from the interior. Hurricane lamps in a front window lit the porch steps, providing a beacon through the darkness. He said a silent prayer of thanks for his mother. She’d lit the way for them, making it easier to find their way home through the storm.

  Once they were settled inside the house his mother came rushing out of the kitchen, a hurricane lamp clutched in her hand. Tate noticed she didn’t seem at all surprised to see Cassidy. He liked to think she knew him well enough to know he would never send her home in the midst of a storm.

  “Why don’t you two wash up,” she suggested. “I’ve got some chili on the stove.”

  Although his mother was being cordial to Cassidy, her disapproval radiated in waves. The firm set of her mouth, the taut lines around her eyes and her stiff body language were very telling. He prayed that it wasn’t making Cassidy too uncomfortable.

  The spicy aroma of the chili hovered in the air, causing his stomach to grumble. He patted it in anticipation. He walked up behind his mother and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on her cheek.

  “That’s a real treat, Mama. Thank you.” His mother was such a loving, nurturing soul. She’d cooked up more meals in their family kitchen over the years than he could count. While his father had been busy establishing himself as a horse breeder, his mother had chosen to be the stable force holding up their family. Whether it was baking cookies for the class party or helping him earn his Boy Scout badge, she’d always been there.

  “That sounds delicious,” Cassidy added. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was until right now.”

  “Well, I made plenty. There’s cornbread too, and salad.” Maggie clapped her hands together.

  “So go on and wash your hands so we can sit down at the table.”

  Within minutes they were washed up and seated comfortably at the kitchen table, a long butcher-block style adorned with a host of candles. The pot of chili sat in the middle of the table, along with a bowl of salad and generous chunks of cornbread. Considering the ranch had no power, this was quite a spread, Tate thought.

  “Let’s say grace,” his mother suggested. She held out her hands to both Tate and Cassidy.

  “May I?” Cassidy asked, joining hands with both of them.

  His mother nodded her head. “Of course you may.” Tate could see that his mother was still frosty toward Cassidy. Her tone was abrupt and the lines of her face were still tightly drawn. Perhaps her feelings would change if she could just remember who Cassidy was before her fall from grace tarnished her image. It was hard to hate someone you’d once loved.

  He closed his eyes, bowed his head and let Cassidy’s soothing voice wash over him. “Lord, please watch over the people of this community. Please show your loving mercy to all those who are seeking shelter from this storm. And please bless Maggie for lovingly preparing this meal.”

  “Amen,” Tate said before digging into the chili. The warm savory dish immediately warmed up his insides. The rich flavor of the food was the perfect meal for a stormy night.

  Never in a million years had he ever imagined that Cassidy would be sitting down to dinner with him and his mother at the family ranch. He’d thought those days were behind him. Although the situation was a far cry from perfect, considering his mother’s cold demeanor, it was still progress. He looked over at Cassidy and their eyes locked. She smiled at him—a beautiful, pure smile that went straight to his most tender spot. He knew she was thinking the same thing that he’d been thinking. She looked happy to be sitting with them at the family table. As he sat there looking over at her, full of admiration for her radiant beauty, he could only hope that a small portion of her happiness was due to him.

  * * *

  Morning came after a night of punishing rain and high winds, bringing with it sunshine and clear skies. Cassidy had arisen at the crack of dawn, awoken by the sharp cries of the Lynches’ rooster. She’d remained in bed for an hour or so, thinking about Tate and the time they’d spent at the stables. Sharing the experience with him had been wonderful. She finally felt as if she knew where he was coming from. He’d laid himself bare for her, stripping away the strong mask he wore so well. He was trying to find forgiveness for her, but struggling at it.

  She knew all about struggle. It was the main reason she’d repaired her relationship with God after so many years of grappling with her faith. After years of wrestling alone with her feelings of guilt and pain, she’d finally acknowledged that she needed help. Sometimes a person couldn’t find their way out of the darkness alone. She was living proof of that.

  When she peered out the bedroom window she was relieved to see that Horseshoe Bend Ranch was still in one piece. Other than a few downed tree limbs and wooden slats strewn about the lawn, the storm had been kind to them. No major damage had been done.

  As she made her way downstairs, she almost ran headlong into Tate, who was striding toward the staircase. He was dressed in his official sheriff’s uniform, complete with the shiny gold badge. She couldn’t remember him looking more handsome. He greeted her with a wide smile that reminded her way too much of lazy summer nights and afternoons at the swimming hole.

  “Mornin’, Cassidy. I was just about to knock on your door. I’ve got to head into town in a little bit to check in with the Sheriff’s Office.”

  “How bad is the damage in town?” Although the harm to the Lynches’ ranch had been minimal, there was no telling what devastation had been inflicted in town or in other portions of Texas.r />
  “There are lots of reports of downed wires, flash floods and property damage. Some people still are without power, and there’s no telling when they’ll get it back.”

  The peal of her cell phone interrupted Tate. With a quick glance she realized it was her father on the line. She felt a twinge of guilt that she’d forgotten to call her parents this morning. Her thoughts had been so filled with the aftereffects of the storm and making her way back into town. It had totally slipped her mind.

  “One second, Tate. It’s my dad,” she explained, quickly flipping open her phone. “Hey, Daddy. How’s everything?”

  She wasn’t getting very good reception. Her father’s voice crackled on the line. She could barely hear him. “Things aren’t so good here, Cass.”

  Her heart lurched. Had she heard him right? “Daddy. What is it? Is Mom okay?”

  She felt Tate drift to her side. She clutched at his arm, afraid to even breathe until she heard her father’s news.

  “Yes, she’s fine. It’s the storm.” The line continued to hum and crackle. “There’s just no easy way to say it, Cass. The roof of Main Street Church blew off during the night. And until we can afford a new one, our congregation doesn’t have a place to gather.”

  Chapter Eight

  Tate led the way into town, followed by Cassidy in her sporty little ride. Along the way they saw people cleaning up from the storm, home owners using wet vacs to empty flooded basements, downed trees impeding roadways and a few ranchers looking for missing cattle. A few times he’d pulled over to inquire about the well-being of elderly residents and a few shut-ins. All in all, the community of West Falls had bravely weathered the storm.

  He could tell by Cassidy’s face that the news about Main Street Church had left her reeling. She was chomping at the bit to get back into town and meet up with her father at the church. As soon as they reached the corner of Oak and Main he could see the huge gaping hole where the roof had been. Not only was the roof completely missing, but the steeple had also toppled to the ground. It was now propped against the side of the church, split right down the middle. It was a jaw-dropping sight.