Rescued by a Ranger

by Tanya Michaels

  She nodded. “Working outside for a few days has been a nice change from being behind the bar. Not that I don’t love my bar,” she added, her voice trembling. Her expression crumpled.

  “Amy?” It was the first time he’d ever seen the perpetually smiling woman upset.

  “Don’t mind me. I’m just... You’re the last person I should talk to right now.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because a smart woman wouldn’t confess a premeditated crime to a lawman and I may kill Ben Torres. He’s trying to talk Grace into selling the restaurant.”

  “But...the Jalapeño is one of the best Mexican restaurants in the entire Hill Country! And it’s been in the Torres family for generations.” Plus, the Jalapeño was one of the only local attractions to coax actual enthusiasm from Eden. Suddenly he wasn’t too fond of Ben, either.

  Glancing around at the number of people within earshot, Amy lowered her voice. “Grace doesn’t publicize the fact that the Jalapeño’s in trouble, but even with her attempts to revitalize the menu, we’re struggling. Loans are more difficult to come by in this economy, and the restaurant needs repairs and equipment updates. She was hoping this televised cooking competition would bring in more paying customers.”

  “Maybe it will. The buzz all weekend has been that she’s a favorite to win.” Half the contestants had been eliminated so far; the remaining chefs would be appearing at the festival this week.

  Amy didn’t seem to hear his attempt at optimism. “I just can’t believe Ben would encourage her to give up on her dreams. And that it never occurred to him that he could be putting me out of a job!”

  “Any other place in the area would be lucky to have you,” Zane consoled. He didn’t think she was upset only about the employment issue, though. She seemed personally betrayed. Recalling how the injured officer had looked at her when Zane last had dinner with him, he wondered if Amy and Ben’s relationship was less platonic than they realized.

  Not that he had any intention of asking Amy about it. After his disastrous attempt last Thursday to ask Alex to dinner, he realized he was badly out of practice talking to women. Lord knew how much worse he could make things between Ben and Amy if he interfered.

  “Hang in there,” he offered. Lame advice, but the best he could come up with spur of the moment. He scanned the crowded Marktplatz almost desperately. If he spotted a purse-snatching in progress, he’d have a socially acceptable excuse for abruptly ending the conversation.

  Amy sighed. “I shouldn’t keep you. If you’re here later, look for Grace. She’ll be giving away yummy dessert samples at her cooking demo.”

  “Thanks for the heads-up.”

  As Amy merged back into the throng, a child’s high-pitched laugh trilled out over the other ambient noise. Zane recognized the giggle even before he spotted Belle Hunt. On the playground just past the historic waterwheel, the little girl was having a high time on the swing set. She wasn’t looking in his direction, but Alex, standing right behind her daughter, met Zane’s gaze immediately.

  Even from this distance, he could see her posture grow more rigid. He kept on his path, giving a brief wave in acknowledgment of their unspoken exchange.

  Please respect my space.

  Copy that.

  He didn’t even yield to the temptation of glancing back to see if she relaxed after it became clear he wouldn’t bother her. That is one tense woman. Not that he blamed her. If she’d been a ward of the state, she might not have had a family until she married—and now she’d lost her husband. Zane’s automatic instinct was to help in any way he could, but after the other night, she was more uncomfortable around him than ever.

  He tried to tell himself that Alex was a survivor. It sounded as if her past was littered with obstacles she’d had to overcome. She and her spirited daughter would do just fine without him.

  But such logical thoughts did nothing to banish the way she’d felt in his arms or his need to see her smile.

  * * *

  “ALEX!”

  It was becoming more and more second nature to respond instantly, as if the name really was hers. She slowed, searching the crowd until she spotted Tess Fitzpatrick on the other side of the walkway. The bubbly redhead was seated at a booth with a woman who was busy painting a little boy’s face.

  “Look, Mommy, it’s Miss Tess.” Belle bolted toward the dance teacher. By the time Alex caught up, her daughter was giving Tess a detailed, mile-a-minute recap of everything they’d seen and done that afternoon.

  Alex had to admit, she’d been having more fun than she’d expected. People here were incredibly welcoming. She’d felt enveloped in a sense of belonging and contentment. The only jarring moment had been when she’d been caught staring at Zane Winchester. As she’d obligingly pushed Belle on the swing, she’d noticed him crossing the sidewalk. She’d been appreciating his easy confidence and strength when he’d suddenly turned as if he could feel her gaze from a hundred yards away.

  Which was ridiculous. Zane Winchester didn’t have superhero senses. He was just an ordinary man. Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. In her years of marriage to Christopher and moving in his social circle, she’d become more jaded, deciding that qualities like integrity and generosity were extraordinary.

  “Alex?” Tess snapped her fingers. “You okay? You looked like maybe you’ve been out in the sun too long.”

  Alex shook her head. “I’m just brain-dead from trying to keep up with Belle.”

  Tess grinned. “I know the feeling. By the end of an hour with half a dozen tap-dancing preschoolers, I’m always toast.”

  Belle tugged on the bottom of Alex’s short-sleeved sweater. “Can I get my face painted?”

  “It’s free,” Tess said. “The only catch is, we’re amateur volunteers.”

  “What’s am-a-teur?” Belle drew the word out slowly.

  “It means I’m not very good,” Tess admitted. “But as I tell my students, we get better at everything with practice. Have a seat.”

  Belle scrambled into the folding chair.

  “How about a heart or a smiling sun?” Tess suggested. “Or I could do a rainbow.”

  “Can you paint a chihuahua?” Belle asked.

  “Um...probably not. But for you, I’m willing to try.” She dipped a brush in some brown paint and went to work.

  “That tickles!”

  “Sorry.” As Tess waited for the girl to quit wiggling, she asked Alex, “So where are you two headed next?”

  “I promised Belle we’d split a funnel cake, but after that we should go home.”

  “Oh.” Tess looked disappointed. “My shift is over in about ten minutes, and I’m meeting up with Lorelei Keller. We’re going to stop by the celebrity chef demonstrations. I thought maybe you’d like to join us for the free dessert tasting.”

  “Dessert?” Belle bounced in her chair, jostling Tess’s brush.

  The dance teacher winced. “If you’re not still, this chihuahua’s gonna end up looking like abstract art.”

  Belle did her best statue impression until Tess was done. Then she whipped her head around. “Mommy, can we stay for the dessert? Please!”

  “You’re getting funnel cake, remember? And then home for a bath. You smell like that pony you were riding.”

  Since it had been a slow afternoon and Belle had been enjoying herself so much, Sam, the cowboy in charge of the pony ring, had given Belle extra time before a line began forming.

  Tess changed the subject by holding out a mirror. “Want to see how it turned out?”

  Belle studied her reflection. “It looks like a chocolate chip cookie. That’s okay, Miss Tess. I like cookies.”

  The redhead laughed. “Glad you approve. Now you go with your mom without fussing, or she’ll think I’m a bad influence on you. You guys enjoy your funnel cake.”

  “Thanks,” Alex said. “Oh, and thanks again for recommending me to Mrs. Turlow. The extra cash helps keep us in sidewalk chalk and cookie dough.”

 
“How much extra are you looking to make?” Tess asked. Her cheeks flushed. “Is it rude to ask about your finances? I only meant, I can pass around your name and number. Between growing up here and running the studio, I know just about everyone.”

  Alex’s stomach tightened in a nervous spasm. The idea of Tess giving everyone in a fifty-mile radius her name and contact information made her want to throw up. She swallowed. “That’s sweet, Tess. I’ll think about it. But one of the advantages of this house-sitting gig instead of a traditional job is getting to spend this extra one-on-one time with Belle before she starts school. I don’t want to cut into that too much.”

  “Understood. You have my number if you change your mind. Heck, call me just if you want to go out for a girls’ night sometime! There’s a place that does weekly trivia. Or, I’m not entirely inept at pool.”

  “I am. But I really appreciate the offer. You’ve been wonderful about making me feel like I fit in.” It was a feeling that had eluded Alex most of her life. When she was a kid, she’d stuck out among her classmates because she didn’t have a real family. Later, even when she’d considered herself unbelievably lucky to be with Chris, she’d felt out of her depth with his rich friends. And when the couples they knew had started having kids and she couldn’t... “Everyone we’ve met here has been so neighborly.”

  “Mister Zane’s our neighbor,” Belle chimed, always wanting to be part of the conversation.

  “Oh, that’s right. Zane Winchester,” Tess said in a dreamy tone. She fanned herself with her hand. It was clear she wouldn’t have any misgivings about living in close proximity to him. “If y’all ever have a subdivision barbecue, would you pretty please invite me as your guest?”

  “Done,” Alex promised.

  “Or,” Tess amended with a gleam in her eye, “we could be proactive. Why wait? You can have a backyard cookout. A small, intimate affair including myself and the good Ranger.”

  “What do you need me for?” Alex asked. “Just ask him to dinner sometime. I wouldn’t want to be a third wheel.”

  “Oh, I don’t actually see myself with a stoic lawman raising a teenage daughter. He’s just really fun to look at. Don’t you think so?” she prompted when Alex didn’t respond.

  “I guess.” It was probably a more enjoyable experience for women who could be around him without worrying he might discover their secret identities and have them hauled off to jail.

  Belle sighed theatrically. “I sure am hungry!” she said to no one in particular.

  “That’s my cue to leave,” Alex said in a stage whisper. Normally, she would have reprimanded her daughter for the rude interjection. At the moment, though, she was too grateful for the excuse to stop discussing Zane.

  * * *

  “NOW I’M REALLY HUNGRY,” Belle whined. “And my feet hurt.”

  “Then it’s good that we’re going home, so you can rest your feet,” Alex reasoned. “The booth is right over there.” And they’d darn well better have funnel cake.

  Unfortunately, Alex hadn’t realized that the last vendor was sold out of funnel cakes until after she and Belle had waited in line. As sunset approached, more townspeople were arriving to have dinner and enjoy the bands scheduled to play that night. Alex and Belle had only stood in line ten minutes, but that was like an hour in four-year-old time. The cashier had tried to interest the girl in a caramel-dipped apple, and, when that failed, she’d pointed out the nearest booth that also sold funnel cakes.

  Alex tried to be patient with her increasingly cranky child. She knew the little girl was tired. They both were. Last stop, and then we’re done for the evening.

  Staring at the people ahead of them, Belle whimpered. “Do I hafta wait in this line, too?”

  “You do if you want funnel cake,” Alex said firmly. “Or we could just skip it and go home. Your choice.”

  “Cake,” Belle said. She stopped complaining, but after a couple of minutes passed, she plopped down on the ground.

  Alex didn’t say anything until Belle began tunneling her fingers into the dirt, sifting it through her hands and letting the breeze catch it. “Stop that. You can’t share my funnel cake with filthy hands. Wouldn’t you rather stand up than get your clothes all dirty?”

  “No,” Belle said mulishly.

  Alex was contemplating lifting her child bodily and carrying her to the car when she noticed the bench to the right of the concessions window. “How about you go sit over there?” The seat was currently unoccupied and since the line would keep moving toward the bench, Belle would always be in her line of vision. “Want to do that?”

  Belle nodded happily, skipping toward the seat with temporarily renewed energy.

  All at once, the line didn’t seem so much a chore as a respite. Alex exhaled deeply, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet before the ride back to the house. Unless Belle fell asleep in her car seat, she’d probably keep up a steady monologue of her opinions about the festival.

  Finally Alex made her way to the counter. “One funnel cake, please.”

  “With just the powdered sugar, or do you want the deluxe version?” the teenage boy asked. “That includes chocolate syrup, whipped cream and a cherry on top.”

  Because there just wasn’t enough fat and sugar in the regular version? “Oh, all right. We’ll splurge and take the works.” She didn’t see how it could be any worse for a person than the deep fried cheesecake slices she’d seen for sale earlier in the day.

  “Coming right up,” he said.

  She peered around the corner of the booth to give Belle a triumphant thumbs-up. Then she handed the cashier a twenty-dollar bill and reached for a stack of napkins while she waited for her change.

  “Oh, crap.” He glared at the cash register.

  “Problem?” Alex asked.

  “I shut the drawer without thinking. Sorry. That automatically ends the transaction. I need my supervisor to open it and authorize your change.”

  Alex forced herself to be magnanimous. “No problem.” She’d once worked a hellish three months at a fast-food drive-through window. Mistakes happened. At least they were getting their funnel cake.

  Besides, judging from the malevolent look the supervisor gave the kid, he was going to get an earful later. No need for Alex to contribute to his lousy afternoon.

  Once the problem had been settled, she thanked the guy and his manager and whirled, eager to go. But she collided with the man who’d been stepping up to place his order. Alex managed to hold on to her funnel cake but dropped the napkins and forks she’d been holding.

  “I apologize,” she told the man. “I wasn’t watching because I was in a hurry to get to my daughter.” She gestured toward the bench, and her blood froze.

  Belle was gone.

  Chapter Six

  Oh my God, they’ve got her. Gone was the cozy sense of community Alex had enjoyed earlier in the day. As she raced away from the concessions counter and past the bench, the falling dusk and bustling crowd seemed like threats to Belle’s safety. The booths and vendor tables created a hateful labyrinth, slowing Alex’s progress and limiting her field of vision.

  “Belle!” She darted around a platform where people were invited to “step right up” and play midway-style games. “Belle!” Not seeing any sign of her daughter in one direction, Alex backtracked and tried another. “Josie?” Panic trumped cautionary protocol.

  She tried to tell herself that she hadn’t looked away from her daughter for long. How far could the girl have realistically gone? But that answer depended on whether she was being carried. No, no, no. It wasn’t fully dark yet, and they were surrounded by people. Wouldn’t someone have noticed an uncooperative girl being abducted?

  A hundred scenarios played through her head, each worse than the last, and Alex knew she needed to enlist help. Zane and other law officials had been present all day. She just had to find one. She pushed her way to the front of a line and frantically explained the situation, asking for directions to the nearest emergency chec
kpoint.

  “Is there like a first aid station—or, or—” She broke off, abruptly realizing that she’d started crying and couldn’t choke out any more words.

  An older woman with a kindly face and wire-rim glasses patted her on the shoulder. “Just try to breathe, dear. Name’s Ava. And you are...?”

  “Hea— Alexandra Hunt. Alex. My daughter’s Belle. She’s o-only four. I don’t know how she got away from me so quickly. Sh-she—”

  Ava pointed at the man working the register. “Why don’t you give Paul here your phone number so he can call if she wonders back this way? Meanwhile, you and I will go give Belle’s description to an officer.”

  Though her hands were shaking almost too hard to hold a pen, Alex managed to write her cell number for Paul. As the two women navigated the crowd, Ava talked nonstop, her voice soothing.

  “Many years ago, I misplaced my niece Emily at the San Antonio River Walk. Longest ten minutes of my life. I know just how you feel, dear, but I’m sure your Belle is fine. Ah, here we are.”

  They reached a trailer that had a Fredericksburg PD sign on the door, obviously a makeshift HQ for officers working at the festival. A tall blonde with a strong jawline introduced herself as Sergeant Sandusky and immediately asked for Belle’s description. Alex pulled out the photo she kept on her key ring, a snapshot of Belle laughing at the camera. Please, Lord, don’t let her be hurt. Alex detailed the clothes her daughter had been wearing, ending with, “And she got her face painted. There’s a picture on her cheek that looks sort of like a mutant chocolate-chip cookie.”

  “Give me just a moment to radio out this description to everyone,” the blonde said, walking away from where Alex sat.

  Ava leaned forward to squeeze her hand reassuringly. “Can I get you a cup of water, dear?”