Erin kept her gaze on Wyatt. He seemed completely focused on the horse, and though never a word passed his lips, she could almost hear what he was conveying to Espresso with only his demeanor and his touch. It’s okay in here. It isn’t hurting me, and it won’t hurt you. With only patience and a deep understanding of horses, he had turned what must have been a nightmarish experience for the horse into a positive lesson that would hopefully prevent Espresso from balking in the future on trailer ramps.
He was an incredible human being, and Erin could only wish he’d heard her say she was sorry earlier. There had been nothing paranormal about what she’d just seen transpire. Yes, Wyatt had an amazing talent for conveying messages with his body language. And he was, without question, more attuned to horses than anyone she’d ever seen. But with the same measures of patience, unfailing kindness, and empathy, almost anyone could have gotten the equine into that trailer. Sadly, not many people understood horses well enough to have thought of it, and given the time it had taken, most handlers would opt for a quicker solution, which might have cemented in Espresso’s mind for the rest of his life that trailers were to be feared.
* * *
• • •
After Barney drove away with Espresso safely inside the trailer and Ralph on the passenger seat of the new Ford, Erin could finally leave the fairgrounds to grab something to eat. Thinking of the double-shot latte that she’d left sitting on Julie’s counter that morning, she drove back to Flagg’s, left the county truck in the market parking lot, and returned to the Morning Grind, eager to try her friend’s soup du jour and possibly even splurge on a maple bar. Given that she had missed both breakfast and lunch, she figured she could afford the extra calories.
Several people sat at the small round lunch tables that Julie always placed in front of her shop during the afternoon. Embarrassed to be seen with a bruised face, Erin forced herself to nod and smile at the patrons whether she recognized them or not. Just outside the doorway alcove, a redhead in her midsixties sat with a tall, robust man with a thick mane of snow-white hair. Erin drew to a stop. “Tim! Lynda! I’m surprised to see you guys. I thought you only ate at the Cauldron.”
Tim had a grin that could light up East Main on a foggy night. Behind gleaming eyeglass lenses, his merry blue eyes twinkled just as brightly. “Our favorite traffic ticket giver,” he said with a laugh. “I’m always glad to be sitting at a table or booth when I see you, not behind the wheel of a car.”
Erin laughed. “Nah. My specialty is parking tickets. I stand by the meters that are almost ready to click off, and the instant the time runs out, I gleefully slap a citation on the windshield.”
“What do you do for fun in Mystic Creek? They jerked out all the meters a few years back.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. You patrol the parking lots and ticket all the people who wrongfully use spaces for the handicapped.”
“I could actually get into that,” Erin admitted. “It’s frustrating when someone really needs an accessible parking spot and other, able-bodied people have taken all of them.”
“What’s the penalty in Oregon for doing that?” Tim asked.
“Last time I checked, the fine for a first offense was around two hundred dollars and repeat offenders could be fined a minimum of four hundred and fifty.”
“Whew! That’s pretty steep.” He winked at her. “Do you get a kickback?”
Lynda elbowed her husband. “Don’t listen to him, Erin. He’s not happy unless he’s giving someone a hard time.”
Tim pretended to be offended. “Erin knows I’m only kidding around.”
“He’s terrible at parallel parking,” Lynda inserted. “Nail him if he leaves the back end of our car sticking out in the street.”
Tim angled an appalled look at his wife. “I’m great at parallel parking. You’ve never complained before.”
Lynda spooned some soup into her mouth. After swallowing, she winked at Erin. “I’m so glad we gave this place a whirl. These croissants are incredible, and the Harvest Stew is so good I’m going to blackmail Julie for the recipe.”
Erin’s stomach rumbled. “Harvest Stew, huh? What’s in it?”
“It’s a puree, with pumpkin and ginger, I think. Definitely a hint of nutmeg and allspice. Savory, with only a trace of sweetness. It reminds me of a mild curry.” She took another bite. “I hear your stomach growling. Go get some. And a croissant, too. Hot with lots of whipped butter. Yummy.”
Erin waggled her fingers at Tim, who’d resumed eating his meal, and then entered the shop. The bell above the door chimed. No patrons sat at the six indoor tables, positioned in groups of three near each of the front windows. Julie, who stood behind the counter cleaning coffee appliances, glanced up and smiled. “Voilà! The starving law enforcement officer returns!”
“And the law officer is starving.” Erin reached the counter just as she drew her wallet from her hip pocket. “Harvest Soup, a hot croissant, and two of your maple bars.”
Julie chortled. “My words sank home! Way to break free of the shackles, girlfriend. Splurging on croissants and maple bars will be liberating.”
Erin tugged at her credit card, which always got stuck in its slot. “Yep, and I’ll enjoy every bite.” She slanted an upward glance at her friend. “I had an epiphany today. From this point forward, I’m going to be shedding shackles like an escaped con with a pack of hounds on his heels.”
“Good for you!” Julie ladled rich-looking puree into a deep ceramic bowl, its teal glaze hand-painted with colorful autumn leaves. “Tell me about your epiphany.”
“I realized that I’ve never carried a handbag, and I’m going to correct that immediately.”
Julie gave her a startled look. “Never? How have you survived without a purse? I keep almost everything but a change of clothes in mine.”
Erin laughed. “I’ve gotten along quite nicely, thank you. But I’m tired of just surviving, and I’m going purse shopping when my shift is over. I’m not buying a teeny-weeny one, either. I want a great big one with zipper pockets inside, and I’m going to fill it with everything known to womankind. I’ll be a walking first aid kit.”
Julie set a latte on the counter. “Another splurge, half-and-half instead of skim, and real sea salt caramel syrup. If you’re going to indulge, you may as well go whole hog.”
A wave of apprehension washed over Erin. The calorie count for a lunch like this would probably be astronomical.
“Don’t,” Julie said in a firm voice. “You’re letting him into your head again. I can see it all over your face.”
Erin pushed her card across the butcher-block surface. “I don’t let him in. He just barges in. But I’m not going to listen anymore. I’m getting a purse. And I’m going to carry that purse.”
“To work?” Julie giggled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone in uniform carrying a handbag. What a sight you’ll be. I can’t wait. I want pictures.”
From the corner of her eye, Erin caught movement off to her right. She turned to see a man standing with his back to her. He was looking at the different blends of bagged coffee beans that Julie offered for sale. He wore a red shirt and brown Stetson, but Erin would have recognized him no matter what he had on. She’d spent a good deal of time staring at those broad shoulders in the past couple of hours.
“Excuse me,” she told Julie.
As Erin closed in on Wyatt, she tried to think of what she might say to him. He was a really nice man, and she still wanted to apologize for offending him, this time while he was facing her and could read her lips.
Drawing up behind him, she marveled at the height and breadth of him, which made her feel small by comparison and want to stand taller. Shackles, she reminded herself. She didn’t have to measure up physically to men, and she couldn’t happily live the rest of her life trying. Feeling silly, she tapped Wyatt’s arm. He jerked at her touch and whirled to fa
ce her, his right elbow almost catching her on the cheek. Erin fell back a step.
“Whoa! It’s only me,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I almost nailed you again.” In the fluorescent light, his eyes had taken on a hint of turquoise. “How do you sneak up on me like that?”
“Sorry. I didn’t sneak. You were deep in thought about the coffee, I guess.”
He studied her with a wondering expression. “Doesn’t matter. I normally feel it when anyone or anything gets near me.”
Erin almost said, You feel it? But she managed to bite back the words. She had already ticked him off once today by questioning his ability with the horse, and even though she couldn’t imagine how he could possibly sense the nearness of others, she needed to take it on faith that he might have an awareness that other people didn’t have. Looking up at his sun-bronzed face, she tried to think how she might best express her regret for upsetting him earlier. Then an idea came to her.
Using American Sign Language, she said, “I am so sorry about this morning. I didn’t mean to offend you, and I apologized right away, but you turned away and didn’t realize I was talking to you.”
His gaze moved slowly over her face. Then he signed back, “Once I had time to think about it, I got over being upset. What seems ordinary to me can strike others as being extraordinary. I tend to forget that.”
From the corner of her eye, Erin saw Julie staring at them as if she were transfixed. “You were amazing with Espresso. I’m so glad Jack Palmer called you.”
“He texted me. I can’t have conversations over the phone, and I never bothered to get a voice-to-text app.”
Always interested in innovative solutions for the hearing impaired, Erin had read the reviews on some of the apps, and even those with the highest ratings were still less than ideal. She signed, “I don’t blame you. They aren’t very good yet. Speech recognition technology is improving every day, though.”
She enjoyed communicating with him this way. It offered her a chance to practice using sign, and he seemed to be more at ease. She hadn’t considered how exhausting it might be for him to carry on a conversation. He had to translate his thoughts into words and then enunciate them correctly.
He shrugged and signed back, “I get by all right with texting. I keep my phone on vibrate.”
“What do you do when telemarketers call? I’ve been getting hit hard by them recently.”
“I just reject all calls,” he told her.
He glanced at the bags of coffee again. Following his gaze, Erin got what she hoped was a great idea. Only in order to carry through with it, she’d need his cell phone number. “I really hope to get my scheduling problems at work ironed out soon so I can go up to my uncle’s base camp. It’d be nice if I had your cell number so I can check to see if there’s a tent available for me before I head up. If I call my uncle, he’ll know I’m coming, and it won’t be a surprise.”
“The reception up there is poor,” he gestured. “We can receive only texts, and sometimes not even those come through.”
“It would be worth a try. Wouldn’t it?”
He plucked his phone from his breast pocket, thumbed it on, and turned the screen toward her so she could see his number. Erin quickly entered him into her contacts. Then she flashed him a smile. “Thank you. I won’t keep you from your shopping. You still have a long ride ahead of you to get up that mountain before dark.”
He nodded, but for a long moment, he held her gaze. His expression made her wonder if he was about to say something more, but then his shoulders relaxed and he returned the smile, a quick slant of his firm mouth that deepened the crease in one of his cheeks. “Be careful coming up the mountain,” he said with an upward undulation of his hand. “Do you plan to come up on a horse?”
Erin bit back a grin. “Don’t I look like a horse person to you?”
A twinkle slipped into his eyes. “No. So text me before you head up so I’ll be expecting you. If you don’t get there, I’ll know something went wrong and send someone to find you.”
Erin wished that he would come to find her himself, and then she scolded herself for allowing such a thought to enter her mind. He wasn’t her type, and she wasn’t his. She did think he was extremely attractive, though.
She signed back, “Thank you. If something goes wrong, I’ll know the cavalry is coming.” Then she added, “You were a miracle worker with Espresso. If not for you, his owner might never have gotten him into a trailer again without a huge fight.”
“He’ll load up fine now. He knows all trailers aren’t bad.”
Erin nodded and walked away. Julie had her lunch order waiting on a tray. As Erin was paying her tab, Wyatt left the shop without making a purchase. Erin gazed after him, then smiled at her friend. “That’s Wyatt Fitzgerald, my uncle’s foreman.”
“I know who he is. He’s become a regular of mine.”
“I got off to a really bad start with him,” Erin revealed, “and I’m bound to see him a lot if I can start getting a little time off to visit Uncle Slade at the ranch. I noticed that he seems to be into gourmet coffee. Would it be too crazy if I got him a gift, nothing big, just a little something as a peace offering?”
“I don’t see why it’d be crazy.” Julie thought for a moment and shook her head. “No, not crazy at all, as long as it’s nothing too personal or expensive.” She glanced at her coffee selection, bright foil bags filled with different blends that she displayed on the shelves of a bookcase. “He does enjoy his coffee. How about two small bags of his favorite roasts and a really awesome bean grinder?”
“That would be perfect. Just a nice little something to tell him I hope we can be friends.”
Julie selected two different kinds of coffee and slipped the bags into a white box emblazoned with espresso brown lettering that read, THE MORNING GRIND. While she went to get a grinder, Erin munched on the croissant and decided she would need to write an explanatory note to Wyatt and put it inside the box. She’d get a nice greeting card, she thought. Something simple, maybe a little funny. She still felt badly about their first encounter. Believing that he had ignored her shouts, she’d been really angry. And she honestly hadn’t believed him when he finally came right out and said he was deaf. There was nothing she could do now to change that, but if Wyatt was willing, maybe they could back up and start over fresh. If not, it would be uncomfortable for both of them when she visited the ranch.
As briefly as she could, Erin told her friend what Barney Sterling had related to her about Noreen Garrison. “If she keeps calling me in like she has been, I’m not sure how I’ll get this box up the mountain to Wyatt. I’d love to hike up, but that would take almost a full day. Right now, I’m lucky to have enough time to finish a cup of coffee.”
“So, let me get this straight. That woman has been calling you in when you’re off duty because she doesn’t like you?”
“According to Barney, yes. The other deputies have been enjoying all the slack time, but they also realize it’s an unfair situation for me.”
“What’d you do to make her have it in for you?”
Erin spooned some soup into her mouth, considered the question, and then shook her head in bewilderment. “I’m not really sure. She annoys the hell out of me, but until this morning, we’ve never really had words.” She shrugged. “Maybe she just senses that I don’t care for her.”
Julie’s dark brows drew together in a frown. “And the other deputies have just looked the other way. Amazing. She’s been doing this to you for months.”
Erin shrugged. “We’re all on a salary. We don’t get paid more for working longer hours. You can’t really blame people for not saying anything when they have to work less.”
“True. But if Noreen is Marietta Adams’ niece, who’s going to lose her job if push comes to shove, you or her?”
“I’m sure it would probably be me, and I hones
tly don’t know what I’d do. Financially, I’d be in real trouble.” She took another bite of croissant. “That said, though, Noreen is a single mom. She’s got kids to support. At least all I have to worry about is myself. I’m hoping I can just talk with her. Come to a meeting of the minds, you know? I don’t want to lose my job, but I don’t want her to lose hers, either.”
Julie shook her head and smiled. “Ah, Erin, you’re such an enigma, crispy on the outside and soft at the center.”
“You make me sound like an overroasted marshmallow.”
Chapter Six
Vickie couldn’t believe her bad luck. The drive from Coos Bay had taken less time than she anticipated. She had arrived at the Strawberry Hill trailhead twenty minutes before, a full hour ahead of schedule, and there wasn’t another soul in sight. She stared through the dirt-streaked windshield of her Nissan Versa Note, which had never been this filthy in the two years she’d owned it. She’d forgotten that Mystic Creek had only one paved street. All the roads branching out from Main were gravel. No matter how slowly a person drove, dust billowed up around a vehicle. Even her skin felt a bit gritty, despite the closed windows. No matter. If Slade was desperate enough not to fire her the instant he recognized her, she’d be a lot grimier than this in short order. She just hoped he would set up camp showers. Roughing it didn’t bother her, but she did like to bathe daily.
Trying to calm her nerves, which tingled like tiny live wires beneath her skin, she gazed at the wooden holding area for horses off to one side of the parking lot. It looked exactly the same as she remembered, square in shape and large enough to accommodate a half dozen equines, but realistically, she knew it couldn’t be the same one that had been there over forty years ago. It had probably been torn down and rebuilt countless times since she’d last been here. The air smelled the same, though—crisp, clean, and scented with evergreen. She shifted her gaze to the gentle incline directly behind the horse pen and studied the ponderosa pines that peppered the slope. Some had grown to have massive trunks. Off the top of her head, she couldn’t recall how long that particular species of pine lived, but she felt fairly confident that they had stood there since before she was born. If trees had ears, they had overheard her and Slade talking the first time they’d ever confessed their feelings for each other, and if they had eyes, they would have witnessed their first real kiss, which had left both of them shaken and yearning for more.
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