by JoAnn Ross
The former sheriff’s tanned face was older and more weathered by the elements, but there was no mistaking the square jaw, the firm lips, and those incredibly green eyes that had her thinking of sunlight shining on a newly watered lawn. He was remarkably handsome for a man she guessed to be in his early sixties.
“I can see the resemblance,” she said.
Dan’s answering grin lit up the room. “Lots of folks say that. Which is when I always point out that I’m the good-looking one.”
“And modest, too,” Cooper murmured.
“Hell, son, no point hiding your light under a bushel. Not when there’s a pretty woman around.” His laughing gaze paid her a masculine compliment before moving beyond Rachel to her wide-eyed son standing in the doorway.
“You must be Scott. We’re pleased as punch to have you in River’s Bend. The town’s in need of young blood.”
“How did you know my name?”
“Mitzi told me. She’s been going on and on about you and your mom. There’s nothing that woman loves more than helping families settle into new homes.”
“Are you a cowboy?” Eyeing the black hat Dan Murphy was wearing, Scott asked the question he’d asked the sheriff.
“Well,” Dan drawled, “if owning a few head of mangy, mean old cattle makes a man a cowboy, I suppose I am.”
“Wow.” Scott breathed appreciatively, looking up at his mother. “A sheriff and a cowboy. All on our first day! What a great place, huh, Mom?”
“Great,” Rachel answered absently. She’d only been vaguely aware of the conversation as she studied the kitchen with the eye of a woman who might be down, but wasn’t about to be counted out. Yet.
“How did the fire start?” she asked. “Was it the wiring?”
“Nothing that serious, ma’am,” Cal Potter, assuming his fire chief role, said. “You see, Johnny, he’s the one who owns the place, is getting on in years.”
“So Ms. Patterson told me,” Rachel said. “I remember her also saying that he was selling the restaurant so he could move to California to live with his son and daughter-in-law.”
“And their five kids,” Dan said. “Johnny’s had a real hankering to be a live-in granddad ever since John Junior invited his daddy down to Bakersfield to live with them.”
He shook his head as he looked around the kitchen. They’d opened the back door, to allow the smoke to drift outdoors, but instead of making the place look better, the bright shaft of autumn sunlight only highlighted the devastation.
“It’d be a crying shame if he doesn’t get to make the trip. What with his emphysema and all, no telling how long the poor old guy’s got.”
The suspicious look Cooper shot his father suggested he was surprised the older man would play an emotional blackmail card. Which was what he appeared to be doing.
“I can imagine.” Rachel was determined to remain pleasant, but equally determined not to be bulldozed. “And I sympathize with Mr. Mott and his son and each and every one of his five grandchildren. But you still haven’t told me how the fire started.”
“Grease trap,” Fred Wiley said, finally deciding to speak up. “Damn fool forgot to clean it out last week.”
“That’s all it was? An overfilled grease trap?”
“That’s about it,” Cal agreed, shooting Wiley a sharp look seemingly intended to remind him exactly who was the fire department spokesman.
“So, what you’re saying is that if Mr. Mott had remembered to clean out the grease trap, this fire wouldn’t have occurred.”
Cal Potter gave her a look that suggested she’d just won the final round of the Jeopardy championship.
“That’s it, exactly. The wiring’s fine, ma’am. My brother Hal, who’s an electrician over in K. Falls, installed that new stove and hood for Johnny just last winter. He also checked out the rest of the wiring and said it was all shipshape.”
“I suppose your brother would know?”
“Yes, ma’am. Hal knows the electrical business better than anyone in this part of the state. The county inspector gave the job a green tag first time out.”
Rachel nodded thoughtfully as she reached up and ran her finger along the blackened overhead hood, which several buckets of hot water, Mr. Clean, and some old fashioned elbow grease should return to its gleaming copper glory.
She might have admittedly been living a life of privilege these past years, but deep down, she was still a farmer’s daughter, unafraid of hard work. The countertops were beyond repair, but she would have wanted to replace the scarred, less than sanitary wood.
The paint was blistered; the walls would have to be scraped and sanded, but from what she could tell, the color had been a muddy military green that would have made her feel as if she were cooking in an Army mess kitchen. Or a prison.
“I take it the restaurant is insured.”
Cal Potter nervously cleared his throat.
Fred Wiley returned to his previous mute state and took a sudden interest in digging soot from beneath his grime-encrusted fingernails with a pocketknife.
Dan Murphy took off his hat and began finger-combing his wavy silver hair.
The silence was deafening.
“I’m afraid it’s not,” Dan said finally. “You see, the policy was up for renewal last week and with all the moving preparations, Johnny just—”
“Forgot to pay the renewal premium,” Rachel guessed.
“That’s about it in a nutshell,” Dan admitted. “But if you’d still be willing to buy the New Chance, I’m sure Mitzi could work out some sort of compromise price.”
Even as Rachel considered the magnitude of such a challenge, she was faced with a lack of choices. She couldn’t go back to Connecticut; her house and all her possessions were gone. She had no family, no ties anywhere else.
The truth was, she’d pinned all her hopes on River’s Bend. Unless she could find another affordable restaurant for sale, and quickly, like it or not, right now the New Chance Café was her only chance.
“I don’t know.” She opened a cupboard and found it filled with heavy white plates. Many of them chipped. “Without insurance . . .”
“River’s Bend is a real friendly town, Ms. Hathaway,” Dan said encouragingly. “We do things here a little differently than you’re probably used to back east in the city. I can guarantee that if you decide to stay, we’ll all chip in.”
“My brother would be glad to donate his services,” Cal Potter assured her with an equally encouraging smile. The late morning sun, pouring in through the open door, glinted on his gold front tooth. “And I’m right handy with a hammer and nails.”
“I’ve been promising the wife I’d paint the front room all summer,” Fred Wiley mumbled. “I don’t suppose it’d make much difference if the job waited a few more months. If you’d like yourself some Navajo white paint.”
“I’m an old hand at refinishing wood,” Dan said. “Some sanding and linseed oil would get those cabinets back to tip-top condition in no time.”
Personally Rachel considered that more than a little optimistic since she doubted that the cabinets had been in tip-top condition for a very long time. Besides, she’d rather have more efficient shelving, so she probably would have taken them down.
“Hank Young, down at Young’s Hardware, still owes me from last week’s poker game,” Cooper entered into the conversation. “He’s always had an unfortunate tendency to draw on an inside straight. He’d probably be more than willing to donate some roofing material to pay off his loss.”
Rachel could hardly believe her ears. After Alan’s death, she’d received innumerable offers of assistance, all prefaced with the words, “If there’s anything I can do.”
There had been a great deal those well-meaning individuals could have done to ease the burden she’d found herself facing, but when it came to actually requesting specific favors, she’d choked on her damn pride.
This time, however, four men, all virtual strangers, were offering specific solutions to her proble
ms. It was as wonderful as it was incredible.
“Why?” she asked. “Why would you all be willing to help a stranger?”
“If you decide to stay in River’s Bend,” Dan said simply, “you won’t be a stranger.”
“That’s right,” Cal agreed. “You’ll be one of us.”
“And River’s Bend takes care of its own,” Wiley put in.
Although Cooper remained silent, perhaps not wanting to pressure her into a quick decision, she could feel him watching her. Meanwhile, Scotty was shifting anxiously from one sneaker clad foot to the other, waiting for her answer.
“I believe I’d like to talk with Ms. Patterson,” Rachel decided at length.
“She had to drive up to Eugene,” Dan said. “She just sold her own house up there. Took her six months to decide to list it, then damned if it didn’t sell the very first weekend. Of course she was upset when the title company insisted on closing today, what with you coming to town. But I promised I’d take care of things.”
“I can certainly understand why she had to leave town, but there’s the matter of our rental house—”
“Don’t worry. She gave me the key this morning before she left.”
Potter and Wiley’s muffled snorts of laughter drew a warning look from Dan.
“As if people didn’t have anything else to talk about, it seems my personal life has become the favorite topic down at Harry Banks’ barber shop these days,” he grumbled before turning back to Rachel. “Mitzi asked me to help you and your son get all settled into your rental house. Then you and she can discuss your real-estate deal over dinner out at my place.”
“I wouldn’t want to put you out.” As much as Rachel appreciated the gesture, she was slightly uncomfortable with the gregariousness of the townspeople she’d met so far.
Dan laughed. A deep, robust sound Rachel was certain the absent Mitzi found more than a little appealing. “Hell, Rachel, the day I turn down a chance to spend time with a pretty woman is the day they can start measuring me for a casket. Right, son?”
Cooper returned the smile, but his gaze was directed straight at Rachel. “Right,” he answered absently.
As his green eyes took a leisurely tour of her face, Rachel remained still, deciding to humor the man, even as she sought to pretend such masculine appraisal was a common, everyday occurrence.
She’d just prided herself on her success when his eyes settled on her lips. The spontaneous pull his look incited was every bit as unexpected as it was unwanted.
“Well,” she said briskly as she glanced one more time around what only the most charitable person could describe as a restaurant kitchen, “I suppose I’ve seen enough for now.”
“We’ll get you all settled into your new place in no time.” Dan rubbed his hands together with obvious satisfaction. “Cooper, why don’t you come along,” he suggested. “An extra hand’s always good to have on moving day.”
“I’d be glad to help.”
“That’s very nice of you, Sheriff,” Rachel said. “But surely you must have more important things to do than carry boxes.”
“None that I can think of at the moment, ma’am,” Cooper assured her, matching her polite tone. “If you do decide to stay, you’ll discover things are pretty peaceful around River’s Bend.”
“Well, let’s get going,” Dan said heartily, putting a friendly arm around Scott’s shoulders.
As Rachel returned to the Volvo, she considered that despite the fire, despite the fact that the New Chance Café was far from the quaint western eatery Mitzi Patterson had made it out to be, despite the fact that the town’s sheriff had her experiencing feelings she had no business even thinking about, despite all that, she just may have found a new home after all.
5
As she drove to their rented house, Rachel realized that River’s Bend website hadn’t exaggerated its credentials. Having grown up watching western movies with her dad, she wouldn’t have been at all surprised to see John Wayne or Clint Eastwood riding their horses down Front Street.
“Wow. It looks a lot like the town of Dirt in Rango,” Scott said, his eyes as wide Johnny Depp’s chameleon character in the animated film as they took in the wooden storefronts. “But all fixed up.”
“Which is a definite plus.” If she’d found herself in anything resembling the desolate ramshackle buildings in the movie her son had watched more times than she wanted to count, Rachel would have turned right around and headed back east. Still, Scott wasn’t far off when he said the street resembled a movie set.
The small bungalow she’d rented, again, sight unseen, was two blocks away on Mountain View Drive and fortunately, proved to be everything the café wasn’t. It had been painted a soft cream yellow with white trim. There were flower boxes beneath the windows and a green wooden screen door that opened onto a screen-in front porch. Yellow and orange mums bloomed in planters on the steps and the lawn had been recently mowed.
“It’s lovely.” She breathed a relieved sigh. It was going to be all right after all. She and Scotty—Scott—would be all right. She turned to her son. “How long has it been since you’ve seen a picket fence?”
“I’ve never seen a picket fence,” Scott pointed out.
“I guess you haven’t,” Rachel said vaguely, entranced by what seemed more an enchanted cottage than a proper house. “We had a picket fence around our front yard when I was a girl.”
“In Rockwell City?”
“In Rockwell City,” she confirmed. The self-proclaimed “Golden Buckle on the Corn Belt” wasn’t actually a city, but a small community of two thousand. “I used to walk along the top rail and pretend I was a circus tightrope walker.”
“I guess things must’ve been pretty boring back in Iowa, huh, Mom?”
“I suppose it’d seem so these days, but back then—”
“He’s here,” Scott interrupted, jumping up and down on the seat as he began fumbling with his seat belt.
“I suppose you’re talking about Sheriff Murphy.” Rachel glanced into her rearview mirror at the black Jeep Grand Cherokee that had pulled up behind them.
“Yeah. Isn’t he neat, Mom? A real sheriff!” He was off, out of the Volvo, racing toward the Jeep.
As Rachel followed her son, Cooper climbed out of the SUV and headed toward her, his long stride exuding strength and power. And an overabundance of testosterone she so didn’t need.
“This is really very kind of you, Sheriff Murphy,” she said as he approached.
“Would you do me a favor?” he asked.
“What kind of favor?”
“Would you mind calling me Cooper? After twenty-five years of hearing my dad called Sheriff, and before that my grandfather, I’m still having a little trouble getting used to the title.”
“But not the duties,” Rachel guessed.
His faint smile was echoed in his eyes. “I suppose the work does come more naturally.”
She wasn’t surprised by his admission. Cooper Murphy possessed an unmistakable aura of confidence that unexpectedly reminded her of Alan. A thought that was immediately followed by a stab of guilt for comparing her late husband to a virtual stranger.
“I’ve got a call,” he apologized as the radio in the Jeep began to crackle. “Be right back.”
She and Scott stood on the tree-lined sidewalk, watching him. His conversation on the radio was brief.
“I’m sorry to run out on you like this,” Cooper said as he returned. “But I’m afraid duty calls.”
“I hope it’s nothing serious.” River’s Bend looked like the peaceful town Mitzi, his father, and the sheriff all had promised. But the unmentioned cow on the roof of her restaurant proved that appearances could be deceiving. Rachel dearly hoped she hadn’t dragged Scott all the way across the country only to put him in danger.
“Just one of our good old boys causing a bit of trouble down at City Hall,” he assured her. “I really do apologize for leaving you in the lurch like this.”
“Not
exactly in the lurch,” Rachel pointed out as Dan drove up in the white pickup. Following him was the red pumper truck with Cal at the wheel and Fred Wiley seated beside him.
Cooper gave her a slow, easy smile that was more dangerous than it should have been. “If you give us a chance, Rachel, you’ll discover River’s Bend can be a real friendly town.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He nodded. “You do that.” He was halfway to the Jeep when he turned back to her. “I almost forgot. I’ll pick you and Scott up at six for dinner.”
“Really, Sheriff—” Rachel objected, ignoring the way Scott was desperately yanking on the back of her blouse in an effort to influence her decision—“that isn’t necessary.”
“The Bar M is pretty remote, especially for a newcomer,” Cooper said. “What kind of sheriff would I be if I let you get lost your first day in River’s Bend?”
“But—”
The radio’s insistent crackling resumed, cutting her off before she could point out that the Volvo did possess a GPS.
“Gotta go. See you this evening,” he said over his shoulder as he began jogging back toward the Jeep.
“Did I hear Cooper say something about this evening?” Dan asked as he strolled toward Rachel on an easy, loose-limbed stride.
“He offered to drive us out to your ranch for dinner,” Rachel said. “I assured him it wasn’t necessary. I did manage to cross several states coming from Connecticut to Oregon without getting lost, so I’m sure I could have found my way. But he insisted.”
“Cooper has always been a helpful boy,” Dan said.
“Real helpful,” Cal Potter agreed as he joined them.
Fred Wiley’s choked sound was somewhere between a snort and a laugh.
Deciding to ignore their knowing looks, Rachel turned her attention to her son. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s go check out our new home.”
6
City Hall was on Front Street, across from the town square, located between the sheriff’s office and the post office. The bronze plaque on the cornerstone revealed that the red brick building had been dedicated in 1904. In addition to the offices of the city council, it housed various county, state, and federal offices.