Military Heroes Bundle: A Soldier's Homecoming / A Soldier's Redemption / Danger in the Desert / Strangers When We Meet / Grayson's Surrender / Taking Cover. Merline Lovelace
Читать онлайн книгу.
cousin Wendy’s husband, and the problems he still suffered sometimes from Vietnam. This guy’s wounds had to be fresher.
When she spoke again, it was to ask something less invasive. “Ever been here before?”
“No.”
Well, that gambit wasn’t going to work. Stifling a sigh, she gave her attention back to the road and tried to ignore the man beside her. If he stayed in town for more than twenty-four hours, someone would learn something about him and word would pass faster than wildfire. The county had grown quite a bit in the past fifteen years, but it hadn’t grown much. People still knew everything about their neighbors, and strangers still attracted a lot of curiosity and speculation.
However, it went against the grain for her to treat a stranger with silence. Around here, folks generally made strangers feel welcome.
“I can take you to a motel if you want.”
“Sheriff’s office is fine.”
“Okay.” A scattering of houses near the road announced that Conard City now lay less than ten miles ahead. “My uncle used to be sheriff here,” she said by way of keeping a friendly conversation going.
“Yeah?”
At last a sign of curiosity. “He retired a couple of years ago,” she explained. “He and my aunt are in South America and are later going on a cruise to Antarctica. It blows my mind to even think of it.”
That elicited a chuckle. “It wouldn’t be my choice.”
“Mine, either, right now. Maybe when I retire I’ll see things differently.”
“You never know.”
She tossed him another glance and saw that he appeared a bit more relaxed.
“So,” he said after a moment, “you followed in your uncle’s footsteps?”
“Eventually. I grew up in Laramie. Then I moved to Denver.”
“How’d that work out?”
“Well, I got my degree, got married, got divorced, decided I didn’t like the big bad world all that much and came back to be a deputy.”
“What’s that like?”
“I love it.” She glanced at him again, wondering what had suddenly unlocked the key to his mouth. But he seemed to have gone away again, looking out the windows, watching intently. So on guard. Expecting trouble at any instant.
And there were no magic words to cure that. Nothing but time would do that, if even that could succeed.
“I worked as a cop in the city,” she said after a moment. “It’s better here.”
“Why?”
“Less crime. More helping people.”
“I can see that.”
She reckoned he could.
“So do you like your new sheriff?”
“Gage Dalton,” she supplied. “Yeah. He can be hard to get to know, but once you do, he’s great. He used to be DEA, then he came here and my dad hired him as a criminologist. We never had one before.”
“That is small-town.”
She smiled. “Yeah. It’s great.”
They reached the edge of town, and soon were driving along Main Street toward the courthouse square and the storefront sheriff’s office. On the way, she pointed out the City Diner.
“Eat there if you want rib-sticking food. Despite the sign out front, everyone calls it Maude’s diner. You won’t find high-class service, but if you’re not worried about cholesterol, sugar or salt, there’s no better place to get a meal or a piece of pie.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She pulled into her slot in front of the office and turned off the ignition. Before he climbed out, she turned in her seat to face him directly. “I’m Connie Halloran,” she said.
“Ethan. Thanks for the ride.”
Then he slipped out of the vehicle with his backpack and began to stride toward the diner. She watched him until he disappeared inside, then shook her head and climbed out, locking the car behind her.
Inside the office, Velma arched thin brows at her. “You’re still alive, I see.”
“I’m not totally stupid.”
“Just save the excuses until your uncle gets back.”
Connie shook her head and hung her keys from the rack near Velma’s dispatch station. “I’m all grown up, Velma.”
“That won’t matter a flea dropping on a compost heap if anything happens to you. I don’t want to be the one explaining to Nate what you did.”
Connie leaned over the counter, grinning at the older woman. “I’m armed and dangerous, Velma.”
All that earned was a snort. “Damn near everyone around here is armed. It don’t keep bad things from happening.”
“Nothing bad happened. Now I’m going to sign out and go home to grill burgers for my daughter and my mother.”
But Velma stopped her. “Who’d you give a ride to?”
“Some guy named Ethan. He says he has some friends around here.”
“And you believe that?”
Connie sighed. “Why wouldn’t I? He’s wearing a major’s oak leaf on his shirt collar, and he says he just got back from Afghanistan. Not your ordinary bad-guy disguise.”
Velma’s expression soured. “For somebody who patrolled the streets in Denver, you’re awfully trusting.”
“No, I just know how well I can take care of myself.”
Velma’s snort followed her out the door.
Gage Dalton, Conard County’s new sheriff—for three years now, which he guessed meant he would always be the new sheriff—sat at his desk reviewing reports, his scarred face smiling faintly as he remembered how Nate Tate used to complain about the paperwork. Nate had been sheriff for thirty-five years, a long time to complain about paperwork. As for Gage, he would count himself lucky if twenty years from now he was still the new sheriff and still doing paperwork.
Not that folks gave him a hard time or anything. It was, he supposed, just their way of distinguishing him from Nate. He signed another report and added it to the stack of completed work.
Not much happened in this county on a routine basis. Cattle disappeared or were killed under strange circumstances. That whole cattle-mutilation thing still hovered around, leaving questions whose answers never entirely satisfied the ranchers.
Break-ins, vandalism—more of that over the past few years as the county grew and bored youngsters got ideas from movies, television and gangsta rap. Although, to his way of thinking, the growing size of the younger population probably meant that, percentage-wise, there was no more crime than ever.
There were new jobs, though. When he’d first moved here fifteen years ago, the county had been losing many of its young folks to brighter city lights. Then the lights here had grown a bit brighter when a semiconductor plant was set up outside town. Easier work than ranching. Good wages. Folks had moved in, and more kids stayed, especially now that they had a local college, too.
Small changes with outsize impact. Nothing threatened the old way of life here yet, but it sure was odd to see kids wearing saggy, beltless, shapeless pants, as if the whole world wanted to see their underwear, instead of boot-cut jeans and ropers. Among the younger set, the cowboy hat had been completely replaced by the ball cap. Sometimes