Page 83 of Dark Side of the River

Holden didn’t know what to say as he looked down the table at his ward. He heard Treyton murmur something under his breath about the Staffords. Trick riding? “You just make sure she’s careful.” Even as he said it, he knew they were a waste of words. This was Holly Jo they were talking about.

“I told her if she got hurt, you’d blame me,” Cooper said, still grinning. “She said I better not let her get hurt.”

“She’s right.” His words didn’t carry his concern about only Holly Jo’s trick riding but also whatever was going on with his son and Tilly Stafford. He liked the young woman, thought she was a fine partner for his son.

Still, he knew Charlotte wouldn’t agree. He considered riding over one day and talking to her about it. It was a terrible idea, but it made him smile to himself. No matter how it went, he did like seeing her.

Then he was reminded that she wasn’t at the ranch. He’d heard that she’d flown from Billings on to Minneapolis, where CJ would be treated for his neck injuries.

He told himself that she’d be back. She wouldn’t be able to stay away long. He would see her again, he thought, and smiled to himself, refusing to think of the day when that might not be true.

STUARTHADN’TREALIZEDhow late it was. He looked up from his desk and the pile of paperwork he’d been wading through. He rubbed his temples, his head aching. He heard the front door of the sheriff’s department open, heard the dispatcher say something, and the next thing he knew, a woman was standing in his doorway.

He recognized her as the new nurse who worked at the hospital. She was holding a take-out container. The smell of the food made his stomach growl. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. He’d been so busy, it had skipped his mind.

Stumbling to his feet, he said, “Hello.” He wasn’t sure what was going on until she stepped in.

“We met at the hospital earlier,” she said. “You probably don’t remember.” He did remember. She had a heart-shaped face, big brown eyes and a wide, friendly smile. “You looked dead on your feet, and I wondered if you had remembered to eat. When I saw your patrol SUV still in the parking lot and your light on... I hope you don’t mind I brought you supper.”

He glanced at the container as he went around the end of the desk to take it from her. Shoving the paperwork aside, he set the meal down. “Thank you, but I hope you’re planning to join me, because I’m sure that’s more than I can eat.” He looked at her. “While I do remember you, for the life of me, I can’t recall your name.”

She smiled and stuck out her hand. “I’m Abigail Creed.”

“Nice to meet you, Abigail. Please join me.” He pulled up a chair for her, feeling not quite as tired. “So, what brings you to Powder Crossing?” he asked as they sat down.

“The job. It’s part-time, which is perfect,” she said as they helped themselves to the food. “I’m a photographer when I’m not a nurse. This area is beautiful. I’m trying to get a collection of photos together for a showing around Christmas.”

He realized it was the way she said it, as if she’d rehearsed the words. He told himself she’d probably told so many people her story that it had become rote. But at the same time, he found himself looking at her more closely.

He’d often said that he’d gone into law enforcement because he’d followed in his father’s footsteps. But he suspected it was because of the way his mind and instincts worked.

But right now, he hated both. All his instincts were telling him that this pretty, charming, sweet and thoughtful young woman was leaving out something very important about why she’d come to Powder Crossing.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

THEPOWDERCROSSINGFourth of July Rodeo was more than a Western tradition. It was an excuse for cowboys and cowgirls from across several counties and even states to gather. Pickups would be parked a mile down on both sides of the dirt road from the fairgrounds to accommodate the crowds. Trucks and stock trailers lined up in the fields around the rodeo grounds for a quarter mile.

Food trucks came from all over, along with vendors selling cowboy hats, bolo ties and horse tack, as well as jewelry and fancy Western shirts and boots.

Because the town was so far from anything, the three-day event brought in campers, trailers and tents that now spread out as far as the eye could see. Cowboys were lined up six-deep at the makeshift beer garden that had been set up at the edge of the arena. Country music played from a loudspeaker in the two-story building where Doc Hammond would be doing the announcing—unless he got called away to patch up someone at the hospital.

The air filled with excitement, and dust rose along the road and drifted toward the mountains.

From up on the mountain, Cooper had a bird’s-eye view of the fairgrounds as he parked his pickup.

“Can I take the blindfold off now?” Tilly asked impatiently.

“Soon,” he said as he got out and ran around to open her door and help her out. “Just a little longer.” He led her away from the truck and into the pines. “Okay, you can take it off,” he said as he untied the bandanna he’d used.

He checked her expression and saw tears in her eyes.

“Oh, Coop,” she said, looking from the tent he’d erected in the pines to him. The breeze flapped open the tent’s door, offering a view of the air-mattress bed inside all made up with sheets and a quilt. He’d brought a couple of small stumps inside and picked up candles. A cooler sat in the corner with her favorite wine, and beer for him. “It’s perfect.”

He drew her to him, kissing her with longing before drawing back. “It’s not too late to back out.”

She laughed. “It’s been too late for a very long time.” She cupped his face and pulled him down for another kiss. “But the tailgate would have been just fine.”

He laughed at that as he swept her up in his arms and carried her awkwardly into the tent. He put her down, gently aware of her arm in a cast and her other injuries. Then he zipped the tent door closed and joined her on the bed.

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