She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she groaned and touched her head. It was wet and sticky. She shivered. Her heavy coat was somewhere in the backseat. Why did it have to be so god-awful cold? She yearned for blue skies, even bluer water and hot, steamy nights. She could use a drink. Something alcoholic and on the rocks would be perfect. She hurt. Where the hell was she anyway?
It was dark, but this didn’t look or feel like St. Thomas. She fumbled with her seatbelt, and it finally popped open. Her legs refused to obey as she opened the door, so she stumbled and half fell out onto the frozen ground. God, it was slippery out here and so freaking cold! She rubbed her arms, her coat forgotten. Her teeth chattered and that only made her head hurt even worse.
Erin turned around and looked at the car. Holy shit! She was in the middle of a cow pasture, and her rental car was a mess. God, how stupid. As she surveyed the damage to the vehicle, she decided it would be a whole lot easier to handle with a little buzz going. Life in general was a lot easier to face when she was a little bit high. She’d discovered that early in high school. She went back to the car, pulled out her purse, fumbled around until she found another joint, and lit it. Breathe deep, hold, exhale. It was a routine. A couple of tokes and she felt her calm return.
She turned to look at the fence behind her. Wow! It looked even worse than the car, though God knew it was hard enough to see anything out here. Had she taken that much of it out? Erin giggled as she imagined a cartoon vision of fence pieces flying through the air like matchsticks. The image was like one of those old Road Runner cartoons where Wile E. Coyote keeps screwing everything up. Yep! That was her all right. Wile E. Coyote, the original screw up. Maybe she should check to see if the car she’d leased came from Acme rentals.
It all struck her as so amazingly funny. She sat on a rock, puffed on her joint, and giggled. Welcome back, Erin! Nothing like arriving in style in Mountain Meadow. Daddy, I’m home! A few more feet, and she’d have made a splash right into the bottom of a shallow creek. Wouldn’t everyone be so proud of her?
Some things never changed.
As she toked the joint in her hand, she looked around blearily. Where was she? She couldn’t be far from home. But God, it had been so long since she’d been here. Last fall didn’t count. She hadn’t even spent the night. So, yeah, where was she? A couple of blinks and she momentarily cleared her vision enough to see the dark silhouette of a cabin. As she looked at the hills and trees surrounding her, memories came back. Her cheeks flushed with humiliation. She was on Sam’s land. Why did every mortifying moment of her life involve Sam? He was the only man who had ever made her breath catch and her heart pound, and he was the only man who had never shown any sign of wanting her. Life was so unfair.
* * * *
With his long, sock clad feet propped over the end of the couch, Sam had nearly dozed off when his phone rang. It had been a crazy day what with deputies on vacation or sick. Sighing impatiently, he snatched the cordless phone from its resting place on the table next to him. “Barnes.”
“Sam? It’s Stoner. Carter called me. There are cows out on the highway. He’s not sure whose they are. He’s already out there trying to round them up. I’d be happy to help, but that whole electronic tether thing…”
“Dang it, Stoner,” Sam snarled. “I’ll call the department and tell them to ignore the alarm and why. The neighbor kid who helps me is sick with pneumonia, but I’ll be out there as soon as I get my boots on to see what’s up.” Sam slammed the phone down with a bang.
At that moment, he would gladly have strangled the judge who sentenced former Senator Stoner Richardson to two years house arrest for pleading guilty to conspiracy charges. It was nothing but a major pain in the butt, when it wasn’t a downright joke. In the last six months, Stoner had probably spent as much time away from home as at it. Now he was going off the property again. If someone didn’t suspend his sentence soon, Sam might go beg the judge himself so he wouldn’t have to play watchdog for the wandering senator. He would have to talk to Evan about it. The guy had served half his sentence already and been a model prisoner.
Sam’s already taciturn mood grew even more thunderous as he yanked on his coveralls, slipped his big white-stockinged feet back into thick-soled work boots and pulled a cowboy hat on. Sweet Mary. He’d be glad when spring got here. Better yet, summer so he could work in either a T-shirt or shirtless.
Most of all, he wished he wasn’t going out in the dark to round up cows in the freezing cold. Just in case, he threw a roll of barbwire, some temporary posts, and his wire cutters into the back of the truck before he bumped down the drive.
Please let them be Stoner’s Angus and not his Hereford crosses. It would please him to no end to have something to hang over the senator, but as he reached the road, he saw broad white faces reflecting back at him in the moonlight. It was his baldies. Stoner would never let him hear the end of it.
Crap!
Even in the dark, the tall, angular form of the former senator leaning against his pickup was plain to see. He spoke as soon as Sam got within earshot. “Carter’s herded most of them through the gate, but we haven’t located the break in the fence yet. You know, Sam, if you’d hire another hand or two…”
Sam spun on his neighbor, fists clenched, but only glared at him. “Not all of us drip money, Senator.”
Stoner’s two-way radio crackled. “I’ve found the problem, Mr. Richardson. An accident. Fence is busted pretty good here in the corner by the creek. Car’s hanging with one wheel over the bank.”
Sam instantly converted from farmer to sheriff. “Any injuries you can see? Do I need to radio for an ambulance?”
“Don’t think so. There’s a woman here. She seems okay, I guess. She’s laughing.”
“Laughing?” Stoner’s mouth twisted.
Sam growled with anger. Probably some teenager out joyriding. Just what he needed, something else to drag him back into town tonight when all he wanted to do was crash. “Hop in, Senator. I’ll give you a ride. You and Carter mind helping me put up a temporary fence?”
“Not at all.”
“I know we haven’t exactly been on the best of terms….”
Stoner cut Sam off. “That was years ago, Sam. Besides, looking back, I don’t think you were the one at fault. Erin was out of control.”
Sam nodded, deciding it was better not to respond. Erin always seemed to be at the middle of any discord. He might not be at fault for his actions, but his thoughts about the senator’s daughter had been anything but pure. It was twelve years ago, so maybe it was time to let things lie. After all, Erin was gone and it didn’t look like she would be back. Last fall hardly counted. He rubbed the back of his neck and frowned at the thought.
As they drove down the road, Sam used the radio in his truck to call in the accident and said he would handle it until they could get someone out in the morning. As he and Stoner climbed out of the truck in the darkness, Sam saw how much of his fence was smashed.
“Holy freaking cow! Could the stupid idiot have done any more damage?”
“Damn,” Stoner added. “It almost looks like the driver did it on purpose.”
“Or fell asleep at the wheel,” Sam grumbled. Fools. Nobody needed to be out on a night like this one, especially just joyriding. Icy patches from the last storm were still refreezing at night, making driving risky.
In the pasture, on the other side of the car, they heard Carter’s deep rumbles and a higher pitched voice.
“I’m fine, man. Hey, jerk, get your hands off me. Ooh! Was that cow shit I stepped in? Oh, God. Oh gross. That is so freaking disgusting. Man, I hate this place! I always hated this place.”
Stoner looked at Sam, who saw the same shock of recognition reflected in the senator’s features before both of them slipped and slid down the embankment in a sudden hurry, running across the pasture to the car. Sam skidded to a stop, all of his thoughts jumbling together, but what lingered in his min
d was, not like this, Erin, not like this.
Erin looked up as she heard them and grinned. The grin started Sam’s heart pounding until he saw her bloodshot eyes in the glow of the flashlight. “Hi, Daddy! Hi, Sammy! I had a little accident.” Then she leaned over and vomited right at a very surprised Carter’s feet. Sam doubted it was the puke that floored Carter. Hearing Erin call Stoner Daddy probably accounted for the look on the foreman’s face.
As Stoner slowed, so did Sam. They approached cautiously, as if they had encountered a wounded grizzly and weren’t quite sure how it would react. But then confronting Erin had always been that way. He never knew exactly which Erin would show up. Would she snap his head off or twine herself around his heart? Sam had been struggling with that since he’d first met her when she was nine. No matter how much he’d tried to forget her over the years, it hadn’t happened. His feelings had just changed.
“Erin?” Stoner ventured quietly. “What are you doing here?”
Sam sniffed the air, inhaling an all too familiar odor. Any nostalgia he might have been experiencing evaporated. “Darn it, Erin. Have you been smoking pot right here on my land?”
She straightened, her eyes wary as she looked between the two men. “Don’t worry, Daddy…Sam. I’m fine, just a little head injury. So nice of you to ask, and nice to see things haven’t changed. Oh wait, I guess they have, because the last time you two were this close together, Daddy, you were trying to choke Sam at the same time you were calling me… Let’s see. What was it? Oh yes, a ‘white trash tramp and no daughter of yours.’ Fourteen was such a good year.”
She glanced at Carter’s gaping jaw and smiled coolly. “Another fond memory of childhood in the Richardson household.” Erin tilted her head back and laughed. “Hi, Daddy. I’m home!”
Lost & Found Love Page 26