Her Cowboy Sheriff. Leigh Riker
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FINN’S CRUISER PULLED UP in front of the barn at Wilson Cattle. Earlier this morning, after making sure Emmie Hartwell was okay following her playground mishap, he was paying a visit to Grey. It couldn’t hurt to caution him about Derek.
Grey must have heard the car approach because he suddenly appeared in the open doorway, his trademark black Stetson pushed back on his head, hands stuck in the rear pockets of his well-worn jeans.
“You heard,” he said, his blue-green eyes serious.
“I heard. Are you crazy?” There was no sign of Derek, and Finn was glad. He hoped to talk to Grey without being overheard.
Grey ran a hand through his light brown hair, one shoulder propped against the doorframe. “Look, I know what you think of Derek. Maybe that’s natural. Being sheriff makes you suspicious. But I’ve told you before that you’re wrong about him.”
“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean you should hire Derek and give him a place to live.”
Grey’s mouth hardened. “Yeah, Derek stole a bunch of cattle. They’ve been returned. End of that story—assuming the court finally agrees. I’m hoping the judge will, one reason Derek has a job with me as long as he does the work.”
“Meaning that will look good to the court? I never knew he was a skilled cowboy.” He did know Grey had refused to press charges against Derek, which had made the case more problematic. But Finn wouldn’t see anyone get away with...anything that was against the law.
Grey cracked a smile. “He’s my apprentice. I’ll shape him up.”
“I wish I had your faith. I wouldn’t trust him any further than the front gates of Wilson Cattle—with him going the other way.” Which Finn would definitely prefer.
He had strong opinions about right and wrong. It was the same with Emmie Hartwell. He could have taken care of her the night of Sierra’s accident, but he’d preferred to see Emmie stay with Annabelle. After all, they were related.
But Annabelle was selling her diner. She seemed to think Sierra could heal faster than she would. That Emmie wouldn’t stay with her much longer.
He brought his mind back to the present. “I’ve got a bad feeling about Derek that won’t quit,” he said. “Since you don’t seem open to hearing that, it’s all I’m going to say,” but in Derek’s case Finn couldn’t stop himself. “How does Shadow feel about this?”
“He’s her brother. How do you expect her to feel? Bottom line, he’s family.”
“If you don’t watch the henhouse, Grey, you might lose more than a few eggs—and of course, more cattle.”
Grey straightened from the doorframe. “Come on in the barn. I want to show you something before we end up throwing punches at each other.”
He didn’t wait for Finn to finish wrestling with his concerns about Derek—and with today’s brief view of Annabelle at the park, her face pinched with worry about Emmie. He was glad Emmie hadn’t gotten hurt, but the sight of her in Annabelle’s arms while the paramedics checked her scrapes had stayed with him. Not his business, he told himself. Annabelle meant to leave Barren, and Finn was hunkered down here just trying to survive. Still, the memory nagged at him like Sarge with a ball. He didn’t think Annabelle was seeing things clearly.
Inside, the barn aisle looked dim except for some rays of sunlight that filtered through the windows in the hayloft to slant across the lower floor. Dust motes, even a piece or two of straw, floated in the air. Finn sneezed. He figured he was allergic to barns, just as he considered himself to be allergic to horses. Of course Grey led him right to a stall where a big brute of a dark-colored animal breathed through its nostrils like a dragon about to spew fire. A heavy hoof the size of a dinner plate pawed the bedding. The animal had a broad white blaze down its face and a pair of large brown eyes that gazed at Finn in apparent curiosity.
Grey gestured at the horse. “I know what you’re gonna say. How big is he? Doesn’t matter,” Grey said. “He’s a gentle giant. A hard worker and easy on the bones. Step closer and say hey.” He pulled the horse’s forelock. “Big Brown, meet Finn, our local sheriff. He doesn’t know it yet but one of these days I’ll turn him into a rider.”
“Hey,” Finn said dutifully, wishing he hadn’t come by after all. He hadn’t gotten anywhere with Grey about Derek, and now that he’d let Annabelle trip through his mind again—along with the image of little Emmie’s sweet face—all he wanted was to head back into town. Tell himself he shouldn’t care about either of them. “Thought your regular ride was named Big Red.”
“They both fit. Why not?” Grey handed him a carrot from his rear pocket. “Make friends,” he said then started off down the aisle, talking to each horse as he went.
Finn stood there. “What am I supposed to do?”
“He likes his face rubbed. That’s one reason he’s pawing the floor—not because he wants to kill you like some bull. Tell him your life story if you want. He’s a good listener. If you don’t want, then pat his neck. But above all, give him that carrot before he takes your hand off.” Grey laughed and kept going.
The horse stamped its feet again. For a moment Finn felt tempted to turn around and disappear. But he’d already had words with Grey today and he didn’t want to jeopardize their friendship. Or drive back to the diner to tell Annabelle something yet. So he held out the carrot. The horse sucked it up then stuck out his face, looking for more.
“Sorry, pal. You’ve got the wrong guy.” He backed up a step, swamped by another memory. This one didn’t hurt as much as last night’s or this morning’s at the park. On one hand, the sight of Emmie always made him want to smile, on the other she reminded him of Alex. He traced a line along Brown’s nose. “I hope you understand why you and I are never going to be best friends.”
Having heard everything, Grey wandered across the aisle from another stall. “Big Brown and I know what we’re doing. Once I get him fine-tuned, you and I will go riding again.” He threw down a gauntlet. “Even Ava could ride him. You should see her. My daughter is all over this ranch on her new horse. She’s fearless.”
Finn’s shoulders slumped. “You trying to make me feel like a coward?” Maybe he was one. Certainly, he couldn’t seem to put Chicago behind him—probably wouldn’t until justice was served—and he was having just as hard a time trying not to get involved with Annabelle. Or worry about Emmie.
“No, I mean to turn you into a Kansas cowboy,” Grey said. “You can’t sheriff all the time.” Or wallow in your memories, he might have said.
Grey insisted he say goodbye to Big Brown, which Finn did with reluctance. Then Grey walked Finn out into the sunlight. They stood by his cruiser, sharing the warmth of the day, knowing there wouldn’t be many more like this before winter set in. “Kidding aside,” Grey said, “I won’t allow Derek to get in more trouble.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“He’s doing a good job, shows up on time and he’s saving his pay to buy a new truck.” Grey rapped a knuckle against the roof, as if a judge had gaveled the court to order. “One more thing—what’s going on with Annabelle Foster?”
Finn’s hand clamped around his open door. “Going on?”
“Shadow says Emmie Hartwell got hurt at the park earlier, and you came roaring in, light bar flashing...” He added, “She couldn’t help but notice how fast you responded. The EMTs had everything under control—”
“And I’m sheriff here, as you reminded me. What was I supposed to do, ignore the call?” He couldn’t meet Grey’s eyes. When he’d heard the news, Finn couldn’t get there quick enough. “Stay in my office and push papers around?”
Grey laughed. “No, but seems to me—and Shadow—there might be something else ‘going on.’” He paused. “Annabelle’s