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Shadow and Annabelle shrieked, forming a group hug and making the children’s heads turn toward them from the highest level of the jungle gym. Annabelle barely noticed that, despite her warning, Emmie had climbed with them. Even Blossom had stopped pushing her carriage, her coppery curls dancing as she trotted back toward them, a small frown on her face. Annabelle was glad her own first response was a happy scream not a frown. With Olivia’s announcement she felt even more like an outlier. Alone, as she’d been all her life.
“We weren’t going to tell anyone yet,” Olivia said, “but you guys had to be observant.”
A flurry of questions followed. How did Olivia feel? When was the baby due? Did this mean she and Sawyer would change their wedding plans?
Finally, she held up a hand. “I have an appointment with Doc Baxter this afternoon. After that, we’ll make decisions. I feel great. I’m about two months along.”
The baby carriage rolled up to the bench. “What did I miss?” Blossom asked.
Olivia said, “You’re not the only one who will have a newborn soon.”
Blossom’s brown eyes softened. “Eeekk!” Another round of delighted shouts ran through the group and Annabelle almost missed hearing Emmie’s cry from the jungle gym or, rather, the ground beneath it. To Annabelle’s horror she’d fallen from the top level!
Annabelle jumped up from the bench and raced across the playground. Their faces white with shock, the other kids were looking down at Emmie from above. She scooped the little girl from the dirt and held her tightly to her chest, feeling her heart beat fast and hard. To Annabelle’s amazement Emmie buried her face in her shirt.
“You shouldn’t move her, Belle.” Her phone in hand, Shadow dropped to her knees beside them. “I’m calling 911.”
“I hurt,” Emmie whimpered.
Nick had gotten down from the jungle gym. He laid a hand on Annabelle’s shoulder. “She’ll be okay. I fell from the hayloft at the ranch once—and I’m fine now.”
Olivia drew him away. “Annabelle told you not to show Emmie that jungle gym.”
“But she wanted to play in the cargo net and she’s fast.” His eyes, a deep blue, brimmed with tears. “We didn’t mean for her to get hurt, Mom.”
“I know you didn’t.” Olivia sent him and Ava, who was standing there trembling, a comforting smile. “Nick, in our bag there are some juice boxes and granola bars. Sit with Ava on the bench with your snacks.” She watched them head across the yard before she turned to Annabelle. “How is she?”
Emmie clung to Annabelle, and Shadow raised an eyebrow as if to say And you don’t think you’re a mother?
Annabelle stroked Emmie’s damp hair, absorbing her tears in the cotton of her shirt. “She’s calming down. I think she’ll be okay.” She heard a siren in the distance, moving closer, and mouthed a quick prayer of thanks while Olivia, Shadow and Blossom looked on. She laid a hand next to Emmie’s head and felt her own heart, which was pumping way too fast. “My, that was a scare. I’d rather handle a kitchen fire at the diner.”
Emmie raised her eyes to meet Annabelle’s. And she smiled.
“I like the diner.”
Annabelle couldn’t agree, but Emmie seemed to find comfort there, far more than at Annabelle’s house, and the staff tended to spoil her. At the moment she didn’t care. As long as Emmie was breathing, talking, able to move her arms and legs, Annabelle was good, too. Her tears were happy ones—if only for the moment. In spite of her friends’ support, she wouldn’t stay. Sierra would leave the hospital and Emmie would return to her mother. Then Annabelle would be on her way to Denver and a new career—and she could leave her memories, the diner and her hopeless crush on Finn behind her.
* * *
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 a fine person, Finn.”
Finn got into the car, fired up the engine. “If I had a mind to...pursue someone who doesn’t plan on sticking around.” If I wanted to care again.
“That’s one issue,” Grey said, “but if a man were so inclined...”
“I’m not.” Which provoked another memory he’d rather avoid. Not that long ago, before Shadow was married, and thinking he might get out of his shell, Finn had asked her out to dinner. Grey hadn’t liked that at all. Finn slipped the cruiser into gear but Grey hadn’t finished about Annabelle.
He removed his hat, put it back on again. “Maybe not yet,” he said, “but something to think about,” then stepped away from the car as if to close the subject. “And just remember this: there’s nothing better for the inside of a man than the outside of a horse. Old saying,” Grey said with a half smile, “but true.”
“You couldn’t prove it by me,” Finn replied.
CHAPTER SIX (#ufae93a2b-ca2d-5c4d-84a2-3b8dee43deae)
COFFEEPOT IN HAND, Annabelle heard the bell jangle above the diner’s door, and before she could prepare herself Finn walked in. From the look on his face she suspected he wasn’t here to eat.
This couldn’t be good news, and Annabelle didn’t want to hear it.
“You have a minute?” Finn asked.
“Sure.” But do make it brief. She led him through the diner into her office, a cramped space off the hallway that connected the restaurant to the kitchen and had once been a storage closet. It had room enough for a small desk, a hutch above with cubbyholes—Annabelle’s bookkeeping system—and two chairs. She gestured for Finn to sit, but he stayed on his feet. Another bad sign.
At the park that morning he’d barely spoken to her, his attention focused instead on Emmie in her arms. What had happened since then?
Annabelle sank down on her desk chair.
Today Finn wore his usual pressed jeans with a yellow polo shirt that contrasted with his dark hair, his hazel eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses that made him appear both tough and even more handsome. He smelled of fresh air and sunshine. She felt tempted, as Shadow had done, to fan her cheeks.
Finn glanced at her laptop. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your workday,” he said. “How’s Emmie?”
“She took a rare nap, which should have alerted me that she wasn’t feeling well, then woke up with a fever.”
“Could be her body’s reaction to that fall.” He looked at the laptop again. “What’s her temperature?”
“I couldn’t tell. I don’t own a current thermometer.” Annabelle had rooted through the bathroom cabinets but all she’d found was an old glass version that contained dangerous mercury. What if Emmie broke it? Contaminated the room and herself? Another failure on Annabelle’s part. Maybe Emmie had an infection from the scrapes she’d gotten at the playground and the germs had already spread through her system. “She’s with Blossom right now. After we see Sawyer McCord, I’ll stop at the pharmacy to buy one.”
Her face had warmed. Finn looked at the computer a third time, and she turned the machine so he could see its screen. “You didn’t interrupt my work. I’m a sweepstakes junkie. For years I’ve entered contests. This prize would be an all-expense-paid Caribbean cruise.”
“I saw your travel posters at your house.” Finn removed his sunglasses. “Ever win anything?”
“A fifties jukebox.” Annabelle welcomed the safer topic. “For a while I had an unlimited supply of oldies but goodies to play.” She had to smile. “Smaller items, too, over the years. A ‘diamond’ necklace I thought was so expensive I’d need to insure it.” Her mother had said, Didn’t they have anyone else to give it to? “But the necklace turned out to be paste. Oh, and I won a weekend at a spa in New Mexico—including nutritional advice and some sort of cleanse—” she shuddered “—but my parents were ill then so I couldn’t go.” Leave a sick man to take care of himself? her dad had asked. What kind of daughter are you?
“Sorry about the diamonds,” he said.
“I don’t need them.” She took a breath. Better to let him know she wouldn’t be here much longer than to let him see how she felt about him. “I’ll be embarking on a new career very soon. I’ve signed up for a course in Denver.”
His gaze sharpened. “What kind of course?”
“To become certified as an international tour director. I always envied Sierra her job, which as I told you, takes her to different places. At first I thought I’d like to do that, too, but I want even more travel. I want to meet new people, go to all the places I’ve never been.” She went on, “Once the diner is sold, I’ll need a new way to make a living, and this seems perfect.” She paused. “I paid for it the very day Sierra phoned that she wanted to come visit.”
“Sierra’s still in the hospital, Annabelle. I haven’t even tried to ask her about the warrant yet, and I’m sure you haven’t been able to talk to her about Emmie’s long-term care.” He turned the computer around to her again.
Her heart sank. “Sierra’s awake more now and even alert, but when I tried to bring up Missouri, she called you a liar, and accused me of not taking good care of Emmie. That was the end of that.”
Finn’s gaze hardened. “Well, it’s not, and I don’t care what she called me. In my business I have a thick skin. I realize you don’t accept the fact that your cousin has been involved in illegal activity in Missouri, but I’ve talked to the police in St. Louis. Apparently Sierra did steal some money—”
Annabelle stood up. “Just because someone accused her doesn’t mean—”
“—she’s guilty, I know, but she has to answer the charges. And since she’s here in my jurisdiction I’ll have to serve that warrant—which I can’t do until she’s been medically cleared.” Finn leaned over her desk. “Let the system work, Annabelle. If she’s innocent, that will come out in the evidence and I’ll apologize. I wish I could do more to help.”
Annabelle flushed. Her gaze was level with Finn’s yellow shirt, which covered his very masculine chest. “I wasn’t asking for help.”
She could tell he didn’t know how to take that. Finn shifted his weight, his gun belt jangling with the motion, his expression opaque.
He put one hand on the butt of the pistol. “Maybe you should think about your relationship with Sierra. From what you say, she wasn’t exactly grateful to you for taking Emmie. Could be she’s not the person you remember.”
That thought had crossed Annabelle’s mind but she wasn’t ready to condemn her cousin, even when Sierra had all but accused her of neglecting Emmie. Sierra must be in pain. After what had been that near-fatal accident, and with drugs on board, she couldn’t be held accountable for what she’d said. Besides, Sierra knew that Annabelle made an easy target. She had rarely fought back, the story of her life. I stuck up for you...because you didn’t for yourself.
“Not the same person?” Annabelle echoed. “Maybe not, but for now I’m her protector—and Emmie’s. Someone has to believe in Sierra.”
Finn studied the floor. “I have to admire your loyalty.”
“Which you consider to be misplaced.”
He raised his gaze to Annabelle, looking as if he didn’t want to say what came next. “That’s your business. But have you asked yourself the serious questions? What if Sierra stays in that hospital? She’s shown few signs of being able to go home so far. Even if she could, considering that warrant, she might end up in jail. And if you’re gone, what would that mean for Emmie?”
“I haven’t thought that through. The next time I talk to Sierra, I hope to ask her about Emmie’s father. Maybe he could take her and I won’t need to—”
“Maybe you will. Time is short and there’s a three-year-old child to consider here. You can’t just up and leave even if that’s what you want most in this world.”
“You’re saying I’m selfish.”
“I’m saying you need to think of Emmie’s welfare.” This from someone who didn’t have children, but Finn made her feel guilty anyway.
“You sound like Sierra, but I’m doing the best I can,” she said. “I’ll do what’s right for Emmie—and for me.”
Finn put his sunglasses back on, started for the hallway then stopped. “And I’m sure Emmie trusts you to do just that. Sierra, too. Everyone in Barren does, Annabelle, and people rely on you too much. Doesn’t leave you any protection for yourself.” He glanced back over his shoulder, catching her with an astonished look on her face. “But don’t let Emmie down.”
She wasn’t accustomed to validation from anyone—and not from a man who’d also implied she wasn’t doing a very good job. That she didn’t care enough about Emmie. Coming from Finn, rather than Sierra, that hurt even more.
She watched until he disappeared around the corner into the main room of the restaurant, heard him greet the mayor, Harry Barnes, and several ladies who were having a late lunch.
