Finding The Road Home (Hearts 0f Oklahoma Book 1)

by Tina Radcliffe

  “Yard work.” His gaze skipped over the fenced yard that separated his property from his neighbors’.

  “About done?” Tucker asked.

  “Why?” Fighting a yawn, Mitch glanced at his watch. Three p.m. He’d been up since dawn, after giving in to a losing battle with insomnia. The clock moved slowly when you were paying penance. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the painful expression on Daisy’s face last night at Rebel Ranch, and it was eating him up that he’d put it there.

  “Because I need a favor.”

  “First Reece, and now you. And by the way, why weren’t you at the ranch shindig?”

  “Life conspired against me.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Absolutely swamped at the clinic. Besides a few minor emergencies, it’s spring and we’re overrun with kittens. I’m desperate for foster homes.”

  He grabbed his water bottle and took a long swig before answering. “Tuck, I took two kittens off your hands just last week.”

  “I appreciate that, but they’re coming in faster than they’re going out the door. I exhausted most of my usual foster homes in April and May.”

  “I don’t do kittens.”

  “This is a cat, Mitch.”

  “I don’t have time to handle a special needs cat.”

  “What makes you think it’s special needs?”

  “Because I know you.”

  Tucker released a frustrated breath. “She’s blind, but she doesn’t need special care. All she needs is a chance and some love.”

  Silence stretched as Mitch studied the red dirt caked on his old boots. Twenty years since their mother passed and their absentee father took off, and Mitch still couldn’t say no to his siblings.

  “You still there?” Tucker asked.

  “Yeah, still here and still trying to figure out how to move and not leave a forwarding address.”

  His brother laughed. “You talk a good story, but I know better. You’d hate it without your annoying family around.”

  Mitch offered a noncommittal grunt. His brother was right, but no point in letting him know that.

  “So, what do you say?”

  “What’s the story with this one?”

  “Only a year old. Returned to the clinic because the owner’s fiancé is highly allergic.”

  Mitch searched for a protest but could only mutter a weak, “I don’t know.”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate,” Tucker returned.

  “Will this cat be okay alone when I’m at work?”

  “Sure. Set her up in the guestroom with the door closed. Let her get used to the new situation before you give her free rein.”

  “What about Mutt?” He turned to check on his aged hound, snoring beneath the lazy limbs of a willow tree.

  Tucker laughed again. This time long and hard. “Mutt? He sleeps through tornados. A cat won’t bother him.”

  “So says the guy who told me Mutt was a foster. Here temporarily until you could rehome him. I believe that was five years ago.”

  “Everything turned out all right, didn’t it? You love that dog.”

  “You’re missing the point.”

  “Mitch, come on. Can you help me out?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.” He blew out a puff of air. “But this is the last time.”

  “Last time. Got it.” Tucker cleared his throat. “Ahh... Could you come here to get her? The twins are fussy and their nanny is out of town.”

  “The girls are at the clinic with you?”

  “Yeah. Been here all day.”

  “Why are they fussy?”

  “They’re two-year-olds.”

  “No. I’m serious.”

  “So am I. You ask me questions as though I know what I’m doing. I haven’t got a clue. I’m a single Dad, remember?”

  Mitch’s chest tightened at the words. Single father. Widower. Tuck was one of the good guys. He didn’t deserve the knocks life had given him.

  “Give me a chance to get cleaned up and put away the lawn mower.”

  “Great. Come by the house. We’re leaving the clinic shortly.” The relief in his brother’s voice nearly did Mitch in.

  “Tell you what,” Mitch said. “Why don’t I bring dinner with me?”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I could use a night off from my own cooking.”

  “Thanks, bro. That would be great.” Tucker paused. “I don’t care what Reece says about you being a cranky old man. You’re okay in my book.”

  Mitch gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Funny, kid. Real funny.”

  Twenty minutes later Mitch pulled his truck into a spot in front of the Arrowhead Diner. He couldn’t help but notice Daisy’s minivan with the oversize flower sticker on the rear bumper, parked at the end of the row of cars directly in front of Rebel Reads Bookstore and the Tallgrass Inn.

  She was probably at the bookstore on a Saturday afternoon. Rebel was a busy town this time of year. No reason to think their paths would cross today. He’d make things right on Monday.

  A waitress with a bright smile and an effusive hello greeted him when he pushed open the glass door.

  “What can I do for you, Chief Rainbolt?”

  Mitch placed his order and offered his credit card.

  “That’ll be about ten, fifteen minutes. Have a seat and I’ll bring you a cup of coffee. Fresh pot will be ready in a jiffy.”

  “Thank you, Ruth.”

  He scanned the room, surprised when his gaze landed on a familiar redhead seated at a table in the corner, her back to him.

  Daisy.

  He glanced at the door, calculating his next move before muttering under his breath, “Time to man up.”

  As if sensing his presence, she turned. When their eyes connected, he saw the pain in hers. And something else. An expression that said he was the last person she wanted to see.

  Things were about to get uncomfortable real quick.

  As he got closer to her table, he could tell that she hadn’t slept much either. The normally bright blue eyes were somber and dull with dark shadows beneath them. Her strawberry-blond hair remained in the plait she’d worn last night.

  “Officer Anderson,” he said.

  “I’m off duty,” she said. “Surely you can call me Daisy.”

  “Mind if I sit down? Daisy?”

  She waved a hand toward the chair across the table from her.

  “You still angry with me?” he asked.

  “Angry?” Daisy mused, her hands cupping a near-empty mug. “I don’t do angry. I learned a long time ago that there is little satisfaction or value in anger.”

  “I disagree. There’s nothing wrong with a good bout of mad before you move on.”

  She didn’t answer, simply drained the contents of her mug.

  “Where are the kids?”

  “Home. Rough day. My grandmother kicked me out of the house.”

  Mitch blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Her eyes jerked to him. “No. That is not what I meant. Rough morning with the kids. Sometimes they miss their parents so much it breaks my heart.”

  “I imagine so.”

  She stared at him. “Do you?”

  “Yeah. You won’t find anyone who gets what you’re going through more than me.”

  “You have children, then?”

  “Ah, no. I raised my brothers and sisters. All in all, there were five Rainbolt kids under one roof, and that roof was pretty shaky.”

  Before he realized what he was doing, Mitch pulled out his wallet and slid a weathered photo across the table. The urge to let Daisy know she wasn’t alone overrode his good sense. “All five of us. We lost Levi five years ago.”

  We? Mitch swallowed hard against the pain. He’d lost Levi. Plain and simple
.

  Daisy picked up the photograph and studied the image, her brows scrunched up as if in pain. “I’m so sorry.”

  Mitch nodded at the words. “All I’m trying to say is I do get what you’re going through.”

  He sensed it the minute her guard dropped, and the tension eased from her shoulders. The concern in her eyes was nearly his undoing. For the first time in a long time, maybe in forever, he nearly gave in to the urge to talk about his road to today.

  As quickly as the thought came, he checked himself. This was about Daisy.

  “What’s going on with the kids?” he asked.

  “Missing their parents.” Her finger traced a circle in the condensation on her water glass as she spoke. “Grief is a funny thing. You go for days without stumbling and then, out of the blue, a little thing can trigger the pain.” She took a ragged breath. “My grandmother suggested I go into town and take a break,” Daisy murmured. With one last look at the photograph, she handed it back to him.

  “Smart grandmother.”

  “Yes.”

  The smiling waitress interrupted them with a mug dangling from her fingers and a fresh pot of coffee. Daisy nodded when she offered to fill her cup.

  “Cream with that. Right, Chief Rainbolt?”

  “Yeah. Right. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure.” She set a small pitcher of cream on the table along with the coffee carafe. “I noticed you liked those chocolate muffins when you were here last time, so I had the cook put some on your order. No charge.”

  “Uh, thank you.”

  She offered Daisy a quick nod of her chin. “Your order will be right up, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” Daisy turned to him as the waitress walked away. “You have a fan.”

  “Purely demographics. The population of this town is skewed heavily in favor of single, widowed and divorced women. Sometimes it gets downright awkward.”

  “You don’t date?”

  “Have you had a chance to check out Rebel Reads?” he asked. “They have a children’s reading hour once a week.”

  Daisy laughed at his obvious attempt to change the subject. The effect immediately lightened the mood between them. “No,” she said. “I haven’t. It’s on my list.”

  Mitch poured cream into his mug, stirred the coffee and then placed the spoon on his napkin, while he carefully weighing his next words. Daisy probably wouldn’t appreciate his free advice. However, that had never stopped him before. “Thought about vacation Bible school? Faith can get them through times like this.”

  “I agree.” Her eyes rounded. “You’re absolutely right. Faith is what’s gotten me through.”

  With his gaze fixed on Daisy, Mitch silently echoed the sentiment. “Might do them some good to be around other kids too,” he continued. “It’s only a week. Not like it’s a long-term commitment.”

  “Isn’t it too late enroll?”

  “Nope. Sign up at church tomorrow. It starts on Monday.”

  “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  “And don’t forget about Luna.”

  “Luna?”

  “Yeah, she tracked me down during the event cleanup last night and let me know how much she was looking forward to meeting with you.”

  Daisy’s jaw sagged slightly. “How do you have time to run the world while you’re policing Rebel?”

  Mitch paused at the words and then chuckled. “I’m very, very organized.”

  An easy silence settled between them before Daisy looked up and met his gaze. “I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

  Mitch scrambled to figure out what she was talking about. “What I said?”

  “Civic engagement.”

  “We’ll brainstorm Monday at the staff meeting. I’m sure we’ll come up with something. No sense you worrying about that today.”

  “I’ve had a few ideas,” she said, her expression hesitant.

  “You have?”

  “Do you mind if I run them by you?”

  “Ah, sure.”

  “Have you thought about self-defense classes taught by the Rebel Police Department?”

  “Self-defense classes. In Rebel?” He rubbed his jaw. “Never fly.”

  “Seriously? You’re shutting down my suggestion like that?”

  Mitch paused, searching for a way to explain country life to the city girl. “This is a rural community. Most folks don’t lock their doors. I’m not sure they’d see a need for a self-defense class.”

  “Then we don’t call it self-defense. We’ll pitch it as personal safety.”

  He narrowed his gaze. “Who would teach this class?”

  “Me.”

  “You? What are your qualifications?”

  Daisy took a sip of coffee before she answered. “I’ve taught women safety and self-defense on college campuses across the Denver area. Actually, I’ve launched several programs.”

  He blinked. “You didn’t mention that on your résumé.”

  “I didn’t want to appear overqualified. The truth is, I could have had my pick of any urban police department. There were very few small-town positions open.”

  “That’s because no one ever leaves.”

  “Exactly and I don’t blame them.” She gestured with a hand. “I want to fit in here and stay awhile, as well. I’m not here to usher in change. We both have a problem, and I think I can help.”

  Mitch pondered the feasibility of her idea for a moment. It just might work. “There’s no money in the budget for overtime.”

  “I’m not asking for overtime. I thought that if I’m targeting civic engagement, maybe you’ll let someone else babysit Roscoe.”

  His head jerked up at the comment. “You’re not babysitting Roscoe. Where did you get that idea?”

  “My esteemed partner may have mentioned that you have us both on light duty.”

  Mitch clamped his jaw tight for a moment, reining in his irritation. Roscoe was going to be a thorn in his posterior until the day he retired. “Don’t believe everything Officer McFarland spouts. Whatever decisions I make are in the best interest of our team.”

  “Fair enough, and what about my idea?” Daisy continued.

  “You can give it a shot, and I’m willing to divert some of your patrol hours to this project.”

  “Does that mean you think it will work?”

  “It means that I’m willing to give it a shot, and yeah—” he paused “—it could work.”

  “I’ll get right on it, then. Thanks, Chief.”

  “Maybe you could call me Mitch when we aren’t on duty.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched, and her eyes shimmered with amusement. “Mitch.”

  He found himself mesmerized by the sound of his name on her lips.

  Mitch cleared his throat and focused his attention on the coffee carafe. “And your other ideas?” he finally asked.

  “Maybe I’ll hold on to those until I can present them at the staff meeting.”

  “You think I’m going to shut you down again.”

  “Or maybe I’m not convinced you have as much at stake in this situation as I do.”

  “I’d take offense at that except you’re right. Rebel desperately needs that funding, but there is no denying that you’ve got much more on the line.”

  “There’s one more thing,” Daisy murmured.

  “Go ahead.”

  “I’m going to give this initiative two hundred percent. If we succeed, and I plan on it, I’d like my own vehicle at the end of training. My own vehicle and no partner.”

  “You’ve only been here a week. Training is usually five to eight weeks.”

  “Five to eight weeks.” Daisy blew a raspberry and shook her head. “If I was straight out of the academy, I’d understand that. Don’t you think you can shorten it?”

 
; Mitch assessed the resolute expression in her eyes, and the determined set of her chin as she boldly stared him down. “What I think,” he said, “is that you’re a lot more tenacious than I anticipated.”

  “Is that a nice word for stubborn?” The response was accompanied by a chuckle. “Either way, you can thank my father for that.”

  “I’ll agree to revisit this once we get the civic engagement plans in motion,” Mitch said.

  She met his gaze. “I’m not giving up until I’m in my own vehicle and we’ve won that funding.”

  “Music to my ears,” he said.

  When their waitress appeared again, she slid Daisy’s entrée in front of her and placed a box that held two take-out bags in front of Mitch.

  Daisy assessed his order. “I guess you’re hungry.”

  “I’m taking this to Tucker’s. It’s been a tough day for everyone. He’s a single father on his last thread.”

  She cocked her head and her expression softened. “You’re a nice person, Mitch.”

  “Let’s not get carried away.” He stood. “Maybe I’ll see you and your family in church tomorrow. Otherwise, I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “For what?”

  “For listening.”

  “Anytime, Daisy.”

  Once he was in the truck, Mitch placed the take-out bag on the seat next to him. For a moment, he played back his conversation with Daisy.

  The woman didn’t back down. He’d give her that. Spunk and determination were part of the package. Daisy Anderson was definitely the complete package, tied up with a huge heart.

  There was no denying how much he admired and respected her.

  He liked her too. And he hadn’t made that admission about any woman in a very long time.

  Sliding the wallet from his pocket, Mitch took out the photograph once more. He leaned against the seat and stared straight ahead out the windshield, as his thumb made a slow pass over the lines of faded memories and he reminded himself why he couldn’t risk any more heartache in his life.

  * * *

  “Safety education classes,” Daisy repeated.

  “That’s what I thought you said.” Roscoe carefully inspected the Monday donuts Henna brought in before he settled on a glazed maple bar. When he turned to Daisy, his face was screwed up with displeasure.