“Good.” She reached out, her fingers curving around his lower arm. “Thank you for everything. I’ll be in touch with you. . . .”
Chapter Three
June 5
Sarah couldn’t sleep. It had been a long, stressful day. They hadn’t found the Gonzalez soldiers’ van, which left her uneasy and worried. She tried not to go there, but the drug lord was a genuine threat of the worst kind. He was trying to set up shop in her county, understanding, she was sure, that it was the most economically deprived one in the state, which spelled out less law enforcement protection. The county was too poor to pay for the deputies she desperately needed. She’d cut her own salary in half to get another employee on the payroll nearly two years ago, when she was voted in as sheriff.
The worries were so many that if she didn’t block them out, she’d lay awake in a half-sleep state and then go to work tomorrow sleep-deprived and irritable. And right now, the most important personal thing on her plate was getting her feisty grandmother an assistant. If she could just offload that responsibility onto someone she could trust, it would help her so much. Her father, who had been Lincoln County’s beloved sheriff for thirty years, was behind her idea to hire an assistant for Gertie.
Her small home was a block away from the courthouse, in a quiet, tree-lined neighborhood sprinkled with 1900s’ two-story Victorian houses. She turned in her bed, punching the pillow, tightly shutting her eyes. Her hair was shoulder length and curled around her neck and shoulder as she tried to force her mind to something pleasant. If she could just think of something positive, good and healthy, she would fall asleep right away. On most nights that worked.
And then, Dawson Callahan’s face gently intruded into her worries. He was an island of calm. Nothing seemed to rattle him. God knows, she’d been shaken up after that battle with the drug soldiers, but she wouldn’t show it to anyone, not even him. As sheriff, everyone looked to her to be steady, thinking clearly and knowing what to do next. The Texan’s face was oval, with a strong chin. His black hair was cut military short. He had wide cheekbones and a muscular body. He looked like he worked out, but that was conjecture on her part because he wore a long-sleeved shirt, Levi’s and cowboy boots. The clothes hid his body from her for the most part. There was a quiet power around him as well. She had seen it while the bullets were flying into the SUV.
It was his eyes.... She could drown in them, feel the care radiating out of them toward her. Reaching out to her, the sense of protection embracing her, making her feel safer. Focusing on his medical side, she’d wanted to be touched by him. Sarah needed that connection after realizing she’d been injured in the fracas. It was only a piece of embedded glass in her upper arm, but it hurt like hell. She thought she’d left that kind of firefight behind her when she’d been discharged from the Marine Corps, but here it was again. It was a war out here gathering steam in Lincoln County. Rerunning Dawson’s voice, remembering how low and steady it was, soothed her fractious mind and roiling emotional state.
She fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
“Mind if I sit with you and have some coffee?” Sarah asked
Dawson looked up from the booth he’d just taken at Kassie’s Café. It was six a.m., and they’d just opened. Instantly, he was on his feet.
“Sit down,” he invited. She was dressed in a pressed tan uniform. Her hair was down, the highlights reddish beneath the lights. There was a slight pink flush to her cheeks as she slid into the booth opposite him, setting her black baseball cap to one side. He could smell a subtle scent of almonds around her and wondered if it was the shampoo she used or the soap from a shower or bath. Didn’t matter, really, because she smelled damned good to him. There were shadows beneath her eyes, faint, but telling him yesterday’s firefight had taken a toll on her, as it would on anyone. He hadn’t exactly looked chipper this morning either as he shaved and glanced into the bathroom mirror, wincing at what he saw reflected there.
The waitress came over and filled a mug of coffee, sliding it in Sarah’s direction.
“Thanks,” Sarah said.
“The usual?”
“Yep.”
“And you, sir? What would you like to order from the menu?”
“What are you having?” he asked Sarah.
“I’d love waffles with bacon.”
Dawson looked up at the waitress. “Make it two, please? And give me the check.”
Sarah started to protest.
“Yes, sir,” and off went the waitress.
“I should be picking up the tab,” Sarah said.
“Hmm, must be my Texan ways, then,” and he gave her a wry grin, watching a smile come to her green eyes. Dawson felt his whole body go on red-hot alert. Sarah’s lips were perfect: full, sculptured and arresting. She wasn’t classically beautiful but had a natural attractiveness that made him desire her, as well as intrigue him. He wanted to get to know her as a person.
With a snort, Sarah said, “Last time this happens, Callahan. I don’t care if you’re from Texas or not. You should let me buy you breakfast because you could have gotten killed out there yesterday morning. A peace offering of sorts.”
“You could just as easily have died yourself,” he reminded her gently, sliding his hands around the mug of coffee in front of him. “Let’s just call this breakfast a celebration of life, okay? I don’t do arguments in the morning if I haven’t had at least three cups of coffee in me first.” He held up his mug in a toast, and then took a sip as her eyes narrowed speculatively on him.
“To life,” Sarah agreed, touching his mug.
“Do you come in here often for breakfast?”
“Yes, especially when I oversleep.”
“What time did you get off the job yesterday?” he wondered.
“Around midnight.”
“Do you normally work such late hours?” He sipped his coffee, watching more patrons moseying into the café looking half awake. This was a happy place, with smiling waitresses who he’d found out were all ex-military. And Kassie had opened the doors at six and welcomed him in even though she didn’t know him personally. Her engaging smile, the genuine welcome in her eyes made him feel special. This was a woman who loved her job. Dawson was hoping the lady sheriff was dropping by to speak to him about the job.
“No. But there are days like yesterday that turn into long nights sometimes.” She shrugged. “It’s just part of being in law enforcement.”
“At least you’re not bored.” A slight smile tugged at his mouth as he watched her grin a little.
“I’ve always had a low boredom threshold. What about you?”
It was his turn to shrug. “I thought you got everything you wanted to know about me from that very thorough search you did both in and out of the military.”
“It told me some things, not everything.”
“Are you thinking I’m a possible fit for the job with your grandmother?”
“Yes,” Sarah admitted, “I am. But first, I need to fill you in on exactly what you’ll be doing. I don’t want to hire someone who isn’t fully informed of the expectations.”
“I’m a wrangler and a medic, according to the ad you placed.” Dawson saw her squirm a bit. Nothing obvious, but it was there. Why?
“My grandmother, Gertie, was married to Isaac Carter from the age of eighteen until he died last year at age seventy-six. Together, they created the largest organic egg and free-range chicken ranch in the country. Gertie is seventy-five and a force of nature. She’s independent, runs the company to this day from her home on the ranch, deals with the buyers, the trucking schedules and all the very necessary details to keep cartons of eggs and fryers getting to market on time.”
“I’m sorry her husband died. That had to be tough on her.”
Sarah compressed her lips. “They had real love. They were so close. She’s had a lot of depression and grief since my grandfather passed. I try to get over there as often as I can, but my job keeps me very busy. I need someone who can help Ge
rtie daily when she needs it. Her doctor and dentist are up in Jackson Hole, and that’s fifty miles away. She can’t drive anymore because of some eye issues. So she relies on me and my father to drive her up there and back. My dad has his own health problems, so it falls mostly on my shoulders. She wants her assistant to live in the house with her.”
“Sounds like you were caught between a rock and a hard place.”
“You could say that, yes.” Sarah took a deep breath and added, “Look, I’m not going to sugarcoat this for you, Dawson. Yes, you’ll be a wrangler of sorts, doing odd jobs around Gertie’s ranch. She’s got twenty-five employees who run the egg and fryer operation. Gertie’s the boss. But sometimes, her arthritis, which she has in both wrists, acts up. The pain is severe, and her brain sort of blanks out when it happens out of the blue. She doesn’t have dementia or anything like that, but she’s forgetful because of the pain.”
“Pain will do that and more to you,” Dawson agreed. “Is she open to a stranger, a man, being her assistant? Does she have a say in whether I’d be a good fit?”
Giving him a wry look, she offered, “Gertie’s well aware I can’t continue to do the things I’ve been doing for her. I can’t take time off whenever she has an appointment to go somewhere. That bothers me a lot because I love her so much. She wanted me to pick a candidate I thought would be right for her and then she would interview him herself after I sifted through the wannabes and tried to match the person to her needs. I believe you’ll be an excellent fit, but Gertie has the final say.”
“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to take a job like this without her being part of the decision-making process. Besides, your duties lie in another direction,” he pointed out. “You said the person who’s hired will live in her house?”
“Yes. It’s a three-story Victorian house, really beautiful. She lives on the first floor, which is the largest space, and where her office is located because she has problems with stair climbing. Her knees are getting a bit arthritic, too. So, whoever is hired would have a second-floor bedroom—it’s really a suite—plus a small office. Gertie already has a housemaid, Cece, who is in her forties. She washes her hair, trims her nails and does a lot of the girlie things Gertie needs help with now. You wouldn’t be expected to do anything like that. Cece has a room on the second floor, too.”
“So? Do I shadow her business activity, then?”
“In a way. She’s very sharp, has a degree in accounting. She has a secretary, Ann, who comes in to work six hours a day, Monday through Friday. She assists her in that area.”
“Good, because I’m not a numbers guy,” and he smiled a little. “I do a lot of things right, but math, aside from figuring out dosages in syringes as a paramedic, is not my strongest suit.”
“You would be at her beck and call. There might be days when she needs nothing from you. She might ask you to help with packing egg pallets or something like that down at the truck depot. There’s so many different things the business has to attend to. Mostly, it’s helping her when she asks for your help.”
“I’d be a chicken wrangler, then?” He said it teasingly.
Her grin was sour as she regarded him. “I know it feels like a demotion from being a ranch wrangler with cattle, horses and all.”
“Or maybe an egg wrangler sounds better?”
Sarah managed a soft laugh. “Take your pick.”
“What about medically? Will I be privy to her medical records?”
“Yes, all of them, plus connection with her doctor in Jackson Hole. Gertie is an old-timer who hates drugs, so even if she’s in pain with her wrists, she’ll never complain, and she’s refused any medication from her doctor. I always had a helluva time getting her to take two aspirin to help alleviate some of the pain when it flares up.”
“Well, there are a number of alternative medicines that might help her condition. I’d need to meet her, assess her issues and then I could let her know what options might be available to her so she doesn’t have to suffer through an episode. Get her doctor on board and in agreement with any alternative medicine approach, too.”
“That sounds good,” Sarah said. “My dad will pay you twice monthly from Gertie’s company banking account. Dad will be giving you your paycheck because he works on Gertie’s books with her. He’s responsible for paying all the employees. You’ll like him a lot.”
“I’m sure I will. I’m already impressed by his daughter.” Again, that faint pink flush that brought out that nearly invisible coverlet of freckles stained her cheeks. Sarah looked young and free in that moment. Dawson was just now beginning to realize how many other loads she carried. Being in law enforcement was enough. But having to try to pinch-hit with her ailing grandmother and other family demands was railing on her conscience, from what he could see.
Sarah’s fingers tightened a bit around her mug. “My grandmother is willing to pay you sixty thousand dollars a year for your services. Plus, full medical and dental insurance, which she’ll also pay. You’ll get three weeks of vacation a year. She doesn’t expect you to work on weekends unless something special comes up. She gets up early, around five a.m., every day and works until about three p.m., when she lays down for a nap. Cece will take care of all your meals, and the house cleaning.”
Shock rolled through him. Sixty thousand dollars was a lot of money. Far more than he’d expected. He tried not to convey his surprise. “Sounds like a good package. So? I’ll pretty much be a chauffeur for her?”
“Yes, but Gertie is very active. She goes horseback riding two or three times a week when it’s nice outside. You’ll go with her, get the horses saddled and take care of them after the ride. She has some nice quarter horses.”
“Does she need help with the barn and feeding them?”
“Yes, you would certainly help her there, although I know a couple of the guys from the egg side of the business have been donating their time to do it. They’re not wranglers like you are. You would be taking over those activities, including daily box-stall cleaning.”
“Good, at least I’ll get a little bit of ranch life in this,” and he smiled a little, seeing the brief anxiety in her eyes. Sarah was wound tight. Dawson thought she was worried he wouldn’t like the job, but he did.
“She loves being outdoors. And she attends a lot of functions in the county. She donates money, eggs and fryers to a number of charities all over Wyoming. In Wind River, she works closely with Delos charities, which has a soup kitchen and a food pantry. You’ll be busier than you think. No grass grows under her feet. It won’t under yours either, so forewarned is forearmed.”
“Sounds like she has a soft heart. I like that.”
“Oh, she’s a handful,” Sarah warned. “Gertie has a heart of gold, but she does not suffer fools gladly. She’s not PC at all. Diplomacy is not her forte. What you see is what you get, warts and all.”
“What does she mean to you as her granddaughter?” he wondered, seeing Sarah’s surprise at his personal question.
“Well . . .” Sarah stumbled, “she’s always been a part of my life. She and Gram Nell both played a strong part in my growing-up years.” Turning away for a moment, she stared out into the café, which was getting busier by the moment. She said, “Let’s just say there was a terrible moment in all our lives a long time ago, and it was Gertie and Nell who came to our rescue and pasted our broken family back together again. Gertie, in particular, helped me when I felt so guilt-ridden, blaming myself for what happened,” and her voice trailed off to a painful whisper.
Dawson could see the pain in Sarah’s eyes, heard it in the whisper of her barely spoken words. Her brows were drawn down, and there was grief in her expression even though she tried to hide it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stir up something so painful for you. I was trying to gauge what Gertie brought to you, why you had such a strong, loving connection with her.”
He’d stepped into something emotionally disturbing to her, much to his consternation. Sarah was no longer the she
riff. She had been terribly human in the past few minutes. Wanting to hold her, somehow comfort her because she appeared distraught and shocked by his arrowlike question, he was angry with himself. All people had skeletons in their closet; that was a given. And he’d mistakenly opened one of those doors that held something terrible from the past that she didn’t want to discuss with him.
“It’s up to Gertie to tell you what happened if she wants to. We never speak about it in the family. It’s the elephant in the room, you know? Everyone sees it standing there, but no one is willing to say, ‘I see the elephant.’” Rubbing her brow, she shot him a glance. “Every family has heartbreak, Dawson. This particular incident is ours, and it’s something we’ll all carry to our graves.”
“I understand. I’m not going to ask about it again.” He wanted to reach out but stopped himself. There was confusion in her gaze, and he sensed she wanted to share more, but now wasn’t the place or time.
“What about your family? The good things about them that you could share with me?” she asked.
“My father, Henry, is a wrangler on the Double Circle Ranch near Amarillo. I grew up there. My mother, Donna, is a social worker with the county.”
“That’s a nice combo of physical work with a mother who probably gave you a pretty good background in psychology and such?” She put her cup aside and folded her hands beneath her chin, studying him.
“Good call,” Dawson congratulated her. “Yeah, my medical side definitely came from my mother. And she taught me about people, their actions and reactions. I got interested in it from an early age, but I wanted more excitement and risk taking. That’s probably why I joined the Navy and became a combat medic. I saw my mother making people’s lives better with her words, her knowledge of human beings, and that was a place I wanted to go, too.”
“I know not all Navy medics are able to move into combat medicine. In my experience, they have something more than the usual medic.”
He chuckled. “Well, there were times, Sarah, when I questioned the sanity of my choice. I’m sure my DD Form 214 showed you I was assigned to recons, and that everything we did was top secret or above. And we got into some pretty dicey situations from time to time.”
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