“Well,” he said, losing his smile, getting serious, “after all you’ve done for us? I consider this dharma, paying you back in some small way for the support you’ve given us. We wouldn’t be here, Shay, without your vision and dream for a vet-healing ranch where we could glue ourselves back together again.”
“I second that,” Dair said, her voice wobbly with emotion. “It’s the least we can do for you, Shay. We need to have a girl confab soon so we can all sit down at the kitchen table and see what duties we can take off your hands to lighten your load these next six months. And plan a baby shower, too!”
Dawson saw and heard the grit in Dair’s low tone. She was part Comanche and had lost her foot and ankle when an IED had exploded in Afghanistan. It had killed her bomb-sniffing dog, Zeus.
When Dair had arrived on the Bar C, the vet wranglers had all gotten together, with Reese heading them up, to build Dair a wooden ramp from where their homes sat all the way down to the main barns and arena. This year, they were going to pour concrete for a wide sidewalk so Dair, and anyone else, who needed that kind of assistance, whether in a wheelchair or an amputee, could travel easily up and down the slope. Dawson knew from talking with Noah in the barn on Saturday after fence mending that they’d helped Dair because of her amputation. She’d come to the Bar C at Shay’s insistence, and everyone had pitched in to help Dair feel part of the team. It spoke a lot about the vets, working to support her needs. And he was so glad to be a part of this group.
“Okay, that’s a great idea about a baby shower,” Reese told Dair, giving his wife a warm glance. “Let us guys know what you come up with. I think we men should get together to see if we can make Shay’s next six months a little easier on her.”
“Well, for one thing,” Garret spoke up, “if she’ll let me back into your kitchen, I can cook nightly meals. I know how stressful it is to work like Shay does all day and then juggle house duties in the evening. When I first came here, I did all the cooking for her and the vets three times a day, seven days a week. I can do that again.”
Shay’s expression softened with gratefulness. “Garret, you’re getting so popular in the valley because of your construction background, I would never ask you to do all that cooking. But you’re right: Some nights it’s hard on me to have to tend to house stuff. I could use your help.”
“How about I cook five days out of the week and you cook the other two? And if you’re tired on some night, call me soon enough and if I’m not out on a job site, I can come in and fix dinner for you.”
“Well,” Kira said, “if you’re going to cook a meal, why not cook for them and us? That way, after you get it served, you can come home and we’ll leave them to their privacy?”
“Great idea,” Garret said. “That okay with you, Shay?”
“Sure is. We can decide on a weekly basis what five days you can be here to do the cooking at night. Okay?”
Rubbing his hands, Garret said, “Fair enough. It’s only for six months. And it’s not a prison sentence to me because you know I love to cook.”
Everyone tittered. They knew Garret was chef quality and no one ever left anything on their plate when he cooked for the crew.
“Now,” Garret said, waving a finger in Shay’s direction, “I’m still doing Sunday supper for everyone here. That will never change. Okay?”
“That’s wonderful,” Shay bubbled, grinning. “I was so hoping you would keep doing that for us, Garret.”
Kira gave her husband a wink. “Garret might be a warrior, but beneath that is a soft heart, and he loves to cook for everyone, Shay. So no worries. All right?”
“All right,” she breathed. “It just feels so good when everything works out, but I know it’s because of our military training that we come together like a squad or company when something needs to be done.”
Dawson relaxed. Maybe because Shay looked utterly relieved, knowing she had a safety net of vets who would watch over the baby growing inside her belly. And the women vets were tight with one another, no question, and they would make sure Shay didn’t overdo and stress out. More than anything, he felt Shay needed this kind of nurturing. She’d worked so hard for so long to make this dream come true for all of them that no one deserved a rest more than her. He also knew that Shay’s daily work in the barns would be curtailed a lot by Noah and Harper, who had a look in their eyes that told him just that. Shay was a hard, physical worker. Reese would probably talk her out of riding horses from now on, instead appealing to her to try walking, and maybe assign her to picking up eggs at the chicken coop every morning but not do any heavy lifting. She was young, and in great physical shape, but a pregnant woman should be given some easier assignments if it was possible. And looking at everyone, Dawson could see the commitment to give Shay the time off she needed in their expressions. That would destress her even more.
Sarah’s phone rang. She gave everyone a look of apology, unwound and walked out into the foyer to answer it. Being sheriff of a county, Dawson decided, was 24/7/365. He told himself he should be grateful she’d sat with him, touched his hand and remained close to him. All those subtle signs were a green light as far as he was concerned.
After a five-minute conversation out in the hall, Sarah halted at the entrance. “Hey, gang, I’ve got to go. I’m needed out in the field.” She gave Shay a look of apology. “I’m going to wear Reese’s clothes and I’ll change at home and then go on duty. I promise I’ll bring them back to you soon, washed and folded.”
Reese laughed. “Keep them for as long as you want, Sarah. I have three others.”
Instantly, Dawson was on his feet, walking toward her. “I’ll walk you to your cruiser,” he said. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer, but the expression on Sarah’s face told him she appreciated his company.
“Thanks, Dawson,” she said, moving into the room and going over and gently hugging Shay good-bye. She released her and then hugged Reese, too. Lifting her hand as she straightened, Sarah added, “See you guys and girls this Saturday. Pray that nothing major happens in the county that morning.”
Dair laughed and said, “I’ve got my fingers crossed, Sarah.”
Turning, smiling, she walked over to Dawson. “Ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” he said, cupping her elbow, guiding her down the hall toward the wooden hooks holding everyone’s lightweight jackets. There was a fine tension in Sarah. He dropped his hand and reached out, taking a plastic bag that held her bloodied blouse in it. Shay had used a black felt-tip pen to write SARAH on it. “I’ll carry this for you,” he said, going to the door.
“Keep this up, Callahan, and I won’t have a thing to do except stand here and watch you do all the work,” she teased.
Chuckling, he opened the screen door for her. “I wish I could do more for you, Sarah. This is small stuff.”
She passed him, turned and stood out on the porch, waiting for him.
“What’s going on?” Dawson asked, cupping her elbow again. He was going to claim her for his own, that was all there was to it. Yes, Sarah was a self-sufficient woman and yes, she could take care of herself, but he wanted her to know he was there to be her support, too. She could have wrested her elbow from his hand as they took the wooden steps down to the sidewalk, but she didn’t.
“It’s the Elsons. Again,” she muttered, frowning. Lifting the key fob, she pressed it and opened the cruiser.
“You going home first to grab a clean uniform blouse, then?” he asked, setting the plastic bag in on the passenger side of the cruiser.
“Have to.” She looked around. “It was such a nice night, Dawson. I don’t get to see many happy endings in my line of work, and I was hoping tonight would remain upbeat.”
He heard the discouragement in her tone as she slid into the cruiser. Standing and holding the door open, he asked, “Will you be okay?”
“Yes. I’ve got two deputies out at the Elson home right now. Everyone is waiting for me to arrive.”
Nodding, he said, “I’m around if yo
u need someone to talk to.”
There was a glimmer in Sarah’s shadowed eyes as she turned on the engine. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a big, bad grizzly bear in disguise?”
He shut the door and she lowered the window. “No. I’m generally pretty even tempered and try not to show that side of myself to anyone.”
“You don’t fool me,” and she tossed him a slight smile. “But I like that side of you, too.”
“That’s a relief.”
She laughed. “I’ll see you Saturday, Dawson. It was a nice evening and I’m glad we could share it.” Reaching out, she touched his shoulder momentarily. “You’re a good person.”
Her praise fell over him like warm sunlight in the darkness of the night. “Thanks. You take care out there. Okay? And yes, I’ll see you Saturday. . . .”
Already, Dawson could see and feel the shift in Sarah as she prepared to back the cruiser out of the parking space. Taking a few steps away from the vehicle, he lifted his hand good-bye to her, wishing he could go with her. But he couldn’t, and it left his gut tightening once more. The woman had a dangerous job. She’d left a war in Afghanistan and traded it in for a county war with a lot of dark players who lived here. The Elson clan, especially. Turning, he scowled and put his hands in his pockets, slowly walking toward the gate to the white picket fence.
He heard the screen door open and close. It was Garret. There was a porch light, and he could see the concern in the soldier’s face as he came quickly down the steps and met him on the sidewalk.
“It’s the Elsons again, isn’t it?”
“Are you a mind reader? Yes, it is.” Dawson could see Garret’s face, the dark shadows across it, his eyes glittering, reminding him of a wolf on the prowl.
“Sarah rarely gets pulled out like this at night,” he said, hands on his hips, looking around the quiet ranch, scowling. “And the one she always rolls on is when one of the Elson boys are involved in something illegal. Did she say what it was about?”
“No,” Dawson admitted. “She did say two deputies were already at the Elson residence, though.”
Snorting, Garret said, “Probably the old man beating up on Roberta again. The sick, crazy bastard.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“About once a month, Brian gets drunker than a skunk, goes home and beats the shit out of his wife just because.” Garret flexed his fist. “And Roberta won’t press charges against him to save her own hide.”
“What can Sarah do, then?”
“She seems to have a mollifying effect on Brian; no matter how drunk he is, she can get him to back off and leave his wife alone. There’s an unspoken connection between them, and it’s always been there. Brian was holed up in his house one time, with a SWAT team surrounding it. Sarah was able to pick up the bullhorn and ask Brian if she could come in and talk to him. He said yes.” Garret shook his head. “Sarah just has a special thing about being able to bring madmen down and calming them. On that call, Brian came out of the house, handed over his weapon and the SWAT team went home.”
“Damn,” Dawson muttered, shaking his head.
“Hey, you’re falling for a woman warrior,” Garret said grimly. “And she’s always going to be in the line of fire, so you’d better get used to it or it’ll eat acid through your stomach lining and you’ll get ulcers. That or step away from her now, before it’s too late and you’re too deeply involved with her. Sarah isn’t for a man who can’t stand the heat of the fire she lives in daily.”
“I’m stepping,” Dawson told him grimly, holding his dark stare, “toward Sarah. Not away from her. I’m not used to a woman being a sheriff; it’s a learning curve for me.”
Garret shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d shy away from her.” He clapped Dawson on the shoulder. “Come back in. Kira and Dair are serving coffee. Sarah will be okay.”
Chapter Nine
June 18
It was nine p.m. when Sarah rolled onto the Elson homestead, her emotions held in tight check. Brian’s father, Jethro Elson, was in federal prison in Montana, never to see freedom again. Her mouth thinned as she pulled up outside the shantylike, two-story house that was surrounded on two sides by the Salt River Mountains. It was a broken-down hovel where Brian and Roberta had raised their four sons to be criminals, like their father and grandfather. The Elsons were still upset over Cree having been shot and killed when he kidnapped Tara Dalton for the second time. Reese had shot him in self-defense.
Her gut tightened as she saw Deputy Jeff Robson, once on the law-enforcement side of the Marine Corps, head in her direction. The place was muddy and unkempt. Sliding out of the Tahoe seat, she saw the twenty-seven-year-old’s grim face.
He came around her opened door. “Brian is unstable. We think he’s taken cocaine by his symptoms of constantly sniffing, and the way he’s acting. We’ve asked him if he took the drug, but he’s denied it. He’s sniffing every twenty seconds, he’s restless and complaining we won’t let him pace the house, so we don’t believe him.”
She shut the door and settled the belt around her waist. “What else? Have you been able to talk him down?”
“Not really,” Jeff hedged with a grimace. “He’s spooked. Roberta is in her bedroom, the door locked, hiding from him. She doesn’t want either of us to try to help her or to call an ambulance. We haven’t seen her, so we don’t know if she’s injured or not.”
“I see,” Sarah muttered. “Have either you or Craig James tried to communicate with her?”
“Yes, but she screams at us and tells us to leave. That she won’t unlock the door. We’ve tried to coax her out of there so we can assess her condition, but she won’t do it.”
“It isn’t like this little pattern hasn’t played out before,” she agreed glumly. “Where’s Craig at?”
“He’s in the kitchen watching over Brian, who’s saying he’s going to kill Roberta.”
“That’s nothing new either. He’s always saying he’s going to do it,” Sarah said, moving quickly down the muddy path toward the house. How she wished Roberta would press charges, but she was too beaten down by so many years of abuse. Her life was her four sons and she was deeply devoted to them, never mind they were lowlifes just like Brian.
“No,” Jeff agreed, “it isn’t. But Brian’s edgy, not like the usual behavior when he drinks too much or after he’s beaten her.”
This wasn’t the first time they’d been called to this place. “And if I throw his ass in jail, he gets out in forty-eight hours, he comes back here and beats the hell out of Roberta some more, saying it was her fault we arrested him. Dammit!”
Lifting his black baseball cap off his short brown hair, Jeff growled, “Yeah. These two have their dance steps down perfectly, don’t they? Really sick and sad.”
Making an unhappy sound, Sarah took the stairs to the partly open door. “You stay with Craig and watch Elson. If he’s on coke, he’s not only unstable, he can lose it and become a danger to all of us.”
“Copy that,” Jeff said, pushing the door open for her. “You going to try to get to Roberta to open her door and let you in?”
“Yes. Are any of their sons on the premises or somewhere on the property?”
“No, just the two of them, but we’ll keep an eye out.”
“Do, because any of those boys could turn violent in a heartbeat. I know they carry illegal firearms. I don’t trust any of them.”
“Yeah, well, their old man, I’m sure, has a firearm or two hidden around the house. We don’t have a search warrant to go look for them.”
“As long as Brian sits at the kitchen table and behaves, we have to let things remain status quo. Just keep your voice low and easy-sounding. You know the drill on dealing with someone who’s high on drugs.”
“Sure do.”
Sarah made sure her radio was on a special frequency to her two deputies. They all wore earpieces, and on that channel, they could keep in constant touch with one another. “All I want to do is calm this situation.�
�
“Good luck.”
Sarah walked down the hall after trying to make sure the mud sticking thickly to her black leather boots was mostly cleaned off. The place reeked. Food, three or four days old, lay on paper plates here and there, dirty clothing was piled on a sofa or chair, or dropped carelessly on the dusty wooden floor. She knew from her two years of experience that the Elsons didn’t take a shower for days at a time. Or brush their teeth, which grated on her sensitive nose, when smelling their cadaverlike breath.
Roberta never put food away, so it lay out in different rooms, rotting, tainting the air. Nor did she or any other member of her family keep the place clean or picked up. The place looked like a third-world-country hovel that had been bombed. Sarah knew this sordid house well. But she kept her emotions under lock and key.
Right now, she had to talk to Roberta, coax her to open the door and let her in. Someone needed to check her for injuries. She’d had her nose broken several times, both cheekbones, her left arm and, this year, four out of five of the fingers on her right hand. Roberta had allowed her in before, and Sarah hoped she would this time. They had established a tenuous connection with each other.
Moving through the living room, the carpet frayed and probably thirty years old, the overstuffed couch looking tired, pieces of cotton oozing out of the thin, torn fabric here and there. The place smelled musty, cloyed heavily with cigarette and marijuana smoke, making her wrinkle her nose against the assailing odors. Moving to the right and down the hall where the bedrooms were located, she halted and knocked softly on a door to her right.
“Roberta? It’s Sarah Carter.”
“Go away!” she screeched.
The corners of Sarah’s mouth tucked inward for a moment. She knocked again. “Roberta, you know I won’t do that. The sooner you let me in, the sooner we’ll leave. How about it? I need to see that you’re all right. Please let me in?” She knew the forty-five-year-old woman hated the police with a rabid passion. And because of that, she’d probably do anything to get rid of them sooner rather than later.
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