Page 16

One year later

A shley stood in front of the curved gray tombstone in the windy cemetery, cuddling baby Emma. “We named her after you, Mom.”

“And got you the justice you deserved.” Her father crouched down to place a bouquet of red roses on the ground. He’d spent the last twelve months struggling to forgive himself for allowing Darla and Blaire into their lives.

The nightmare was over, though. Every chance Ashley got she encouraged him to heal. Not only had they gotten justice for her mother, they’d also gotten justice for Mr. Clark and the other two farmers who’d suffered similar tragedies. And for all the other innocent farmers, for that matter, whose herds has been targeted by the genetically modified salmonella. Though they hadn’t paid with their lives, the deadly chemical had resulted in some costly recalls of their dairy products.

Her father stood and slung an arm around her shoulders. After a poignant moment of silence, they strolled together toward the Jeep where Johnny was waiting for them.

Her father pressed a kiss to her cheek as they walked. “I wanted you to be the first to know I finally put the house up for sale.”

She caught her breath. “Does this mean…?”

“Yep.” He trailed his fingers across the tiny shoulder blades of the infant sleeping in her arms. “Emma 2.0 is the new owner of my heart. I can’t stand the thought of being even a few hours away from her.”

“We’ve got a cabin with your name on it, Dad.” Her heart felt dangerously close to overflowing.

“I know, kiddo. Johnny reminds me of it at least a dozen times a week,” he griped loud enough for her husband to hear, but his smile took the sting out of his words. “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told him — that I’ll accept your offer under one condition.”

“Oh?” She had no doubt it would be a colorful one.

“I want to try my hand at dairy farming. Ol’ Monty talked me into it during my last visit. If things go as planned, I’ll be dividing my time between Johnny’s Dairy and Chester Farm.”

Johnny helped her tuck Emma into her baby carrier in the backseat while she digested her father’s announcement. “Cows or no cows, I’m going to love having you closer. So is Emma. Every kid needs a grandfather within shouting distance.” Johnny’s parents were absolutely lovely people and had already promised to visit as often as they could, but Jeff Perkins would be present.

She was thrilled with how close they’d grown since his illegal marriage to Darla had ended, and she and her daughter had exited their lives. Their closeness hadn’t been restored overnight, and they hadn’t gone back to what they were before. What they had now was stronger and better.

Her father climbed into the backseat beside Emma and leaned her way with an adoring expression.

Johnny didn’t immediately open the passenger door for Ashley. “Pretty sure my father-in-law can handle more than one kid at a time.” He reached out to brush his thumb across her lower lip. “And he’s gonna have a lot more time on his hands once he moves into town.”

Ashley felt her insides melt as the meaning of his words sank in. “You want another baby?”

His expression grew besotted. “I want a whole herd of ‘em,” he confessed with a grin, “but I’ll happily settle for working on baby number two for now.”

“You and your herds!” She rolled her eyes at him. “There’s something else I’d like to run past you.”

“Anything.” He sobered.

“I’d like to take a hiatus from my PI business so I can focus on our growing family.”

“Fine with me.” He touched her cheek. “More than fine. Like your dad, though, I have some conditions.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “If you use the term herd one more time…”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He swooped in to touch his lips to hers. “What I was going to say is this. While you’re on hiatus, I wouldn’t mind bouncing ideas off your detective mind from time to time.”

“Aw!” Her voice was teasing. “Is that your way of saying you need me as a sounding board?”

“I need you every minute of every day.” He kissed her again. “How else am I gonna continue running a dairy farm while helping Lonestar Security deliver our very own cowboy brand of justice?”

“How else indeed?” She loved being needed by him. She loved it a lot, enough to seal the deal with another kiss.

One hour later

It was a Friday night like any other Friday night for Hawk Chesney. He dumped his work gear in his locker at Lonestar Security, hopped in his truck, and drove to his cabin on the Comanche reservation. His very quiet, very lonely cabin.

He was a workaholic that nobody even suspected was a family man at heart. Holding down three jobs certainly didn’t leave time in his schedule for dating, but that was kind of the point. He’d been there, done that, and nothing had come of it. So, he worked long hours to fill the void, hoping the good Lord might take pity on him and send “the one” his way someday.

Someday had turned into months. Then years. Tonight was his thirty-eighth birthday, and he could safely say he’d finally stopped having any expectation about someday.

Nope. He was finally past that, which was why he was planning a different kind of birthday celebration — one that involved inhaling a whole tray of cookies from his favorite bakery while listening to a football game and getting caught up on one of his many rawhide projects. It had been way too long since he’d last gotten to spend an entire evening in the workshop behind his cabin — transforming leather into custom saddles, stirrups, rugs, boots, gloves, and more. It had started off as a hobby, but it had turned into a pretty profitable side gig. He only wished he had more time to devote to it.

He pulled his truck beneath the carport, locked it, and marched straight toward his shop with the box of cookies in hand. His long black hair swung in the evening breeze, plastering itself across his eyes. However, he didn’t slow his stride. He was too anxious to get back to etching a one-of-a-kind design into a custom saddle. They were the rage among the young and single folks in town. Mostly the ladies.

He was well aware that some of them only ordered stuff from him in the hopes of landing a date with him. It never went anywhere. The last woman who’d flirted up a storm with him had ultimately walked away after claiming: Your problem is that you’re married to your work. You always have been.

Was it true? Maybe it was.

He unlocked his workshop, stepped inside, and grew still. Every instinct in him told him he wasn’t alone. It didn’t make sense, considering that he’d just finished unlocking the door.

“Who’s there?” His gaze fell on a candy wrapper on the floor. It didn’t belong to him.

He tossed the box of cookies on his work table and turned on the light switch. A warm golden glow flooded the room. “I said who’s there?” Though he could sense a presence, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual prickle of foreboding he felt when danger was near.

He scanned the hanging rack of leather strips and pieces, his work table in the center of the room, and the supplies crammed on the shelves beneath it.

An outline of a leg took shape, one with a sneaker at the end of it. A kid? His insides softened. He was a sucker for kids.

“My name is Hawk Chesney,” he announced quietly. “It’s my birthday, and I brought a box of cookies home from the bakery. If you want some, they’re on the table.”

The leg didn’t move.

“The cookies are right above where you’re perched,” he continued in the same quiet voice.

The leg finally moved. The movement was accompanied by a female sigh. The rest of her appeared as she climbed out from beneath the cabinet.

Hawk found himself face-to-face with a terrified teenager. Blonde with stringy braids. Too thin — way too thin. Frazzled jeans. It looked like she could use a bath, and her arm was in a sling. Were those blood spatters? He certainly hoped not!

“You caught me.” She gave him a sullen look. “Please tell me you weren’t kidding about those cookies.”

“Nope.” He pointed at the table.

“Are you for real?” She gave the white box a longing look. Then she turned back to him, scowling. “Who goes home alone on their birthday with nothing but a box of cookies?”

“I do.” He stepped around her, hating the way she flinched when he did so. Opening the box, he took one out and bit into it. Then he slid the box in her direction. “There are some bottles of water in the mini-fridge under my…” He grunted as he caught sight of three empty bottles in the wastebasket beside his work table. “Never mind. I see you already found them.”

She gave another sigh. It was louder than the last one. “Are you gonna have me arrested?”

He stretched his arms over his head and popped his shoulders. “That sounds like way too much trouble on my birthday.” A sideways look helped him determine that the spatters on her sling were indeed bloodstains. “I just want to eat cookies and finish designing a custom saddle, if that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah. Sure. Why wouldn’t it be?” She shrugged and winced from the movement, telling him that her arm was injured pretty badly.

He turned on the television and surfed for a football game, keeping the volume on low. “You gotta name?”

“Yes, Hawk. I have a name.” Her sarcasm amused him.

“You gonna share it?”

“I might if you promise not to have me arrested.”

“I promise.” He watched her curiously, anxious to hear what she would say next.

“Adults lie to kids all the time.” She gave him a dark look. “How do I know you don’t have your fingers or toes crossed?”

Her comment about lying adults made his chest ache. Clearly, her arm wasn’t the only thing that was injured. He slowly kicked off his boots, then bent down to peel off his socks. He wiggled his fingers and bare toes at her.

“I promise not to have you arrested,” he repeated.

“My name is Miley.” Without warning, she burst into tears. “I’d rather not tell you my last name.”

Despite his many years of working as a bodyguard, watching Miley’s features crumple was one of the toughest things he’d ever had to endure. She was clearly afraid of something. Or someone. Instead of saying anything else, he started moving.

He pulled out a chair for her and waved her into it. Then he rustled up an old blanket that he normally used as a drop cloth when he was staining leather. It didn’t look like much, but it was clean. He gently wrapped it around her shoulders.

Then he squatted on the floor in front of her, handing her a tissue when her weeping finally slowed to gasps and hiccups. He followed it up with a bottle of water and eventually a cookie, which she downed with ravenous haste.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The wide, teary eyes she fixed on him tore at his heart.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “You seem like a decent person.”

“I broke into your shop.” Miley fluttered wet eyelashes at him, inadvertently squeezing out more tears. They were thick, unusually long eyelashes. Real, too, since there were no mascara streaks on her face.

He glanced around them. “Doesn’t look like you stole anything.”

“I’m not a thief,” she snapped.

“I gathered as much.” He nodded at the bloody sling. “Mind if I take a look at your arm?”

She scowled at him. “It looks worse than it is.”

“What happened?” He stood and moved to the utility sink, dampening a wad of paper towels. He returned to her and mimed his intentions to wipe off the blood.

She gave a hesitant nod, biting her lower lip to muffle a whimper as he undid the knot on her sling. “I broke a window and climbed out of it,” she confided in a low, defensive voice.

Concern gripped him as he removed the bloody sling. A swift examination proved it was a jagged flesh wound. A decently deep one. She still had full mobility of her arm, so there were no broken bones. She didn’t need a sling. She needed stitches. He swabbed the crusty scabs off as best he could, causing some fresh blood to ooze. Yep, she definitely needed stitches. He wrapped her arm in dry paper towels, motioning for her to hold them firmly in place.

“Listen, ah…” He rocked back on his heels and met her gaze squarely. “I have a friend on the rez who’s a P.A. Her name is Prim. If I ask nicely, she’d probably pay us a visit this evening and stitch you up. No charge.” Not to their patient, anyway. He’d personally ensure the clinic got paid.

“What’s a P.A.?” Miley asked suspiciously.

“A physician assistant, though most folks on the rez call her Doc.”

She continued to scowl at him. “What’s the rez ?”

“Here.” He pointed at the floor, surprised she didn’t know their location. “You’re on a Comanche reservation, just south of Heart Lake, Texas.”

She nodded, looking tearful again. “Heart Lake is a nice name.” She still didn’t offer an explanation for how she’d arrived on the rez.

“It is. A lot of nice people live there.”

She blew out a breath, making the stringy bangs on her forehead fly upward. “You seem nice, too.”

“I have my moments.” He winked at her. “I work as a bodyguard at a place called Lonestar Security. I also help out at one of the dairy farms in town.”

“Are you married?” Her boldness surprised him, but he didn’t mind. He was just glad she was finally opening up a little.

“Nope.”

“Sensitive,” she mocked. A glint of humor shone from her red-rimmed eyes.

“You’re a brat.” He turned his back on her to grab the box of cookies and set them within reaching distance.

“Takes one to know one.” She pressed her injured arm against her chest to hold the paper towels in place so she could grab a second cookie. She inhaled it almost as quickly as she had the first one.

“True.” He waited until she downed a third cookie before pressing, “Ready for me to call Prim to come stitch you up?”

She made a face at him, but she nodded. “If it hurts, I’ll probably cry like a baby.”

“No judgment.” He’d seen grown men shed a few tears over needles and stitches. “Mind if I ask how old you are?” He needed to figure out what to do about his uninvited guest. If he had a minor child on his hands, it would require a very different course of action than what she was probably hoping for.

“Eighteen.” She gave him a shuttered look. “As of today.”

“No kidding?” His eyebrows rose. “We have the same birthday?” What were the odds?

“Kind of cool, isn’t it?” She offered him a shy smile that transformed her grimy face, making him blink in surprise. She was beautiful, something he hadn’t noticed before she’d smiled.

“Yeah.” Someone had to be searching for the lovely runaway munching cookies in front of him. Possibly several someones.

“So, um,” she ventured in an even shyer voice. “Maybe you could give me a job and let me stay here?” Her question ended on a high-pitched note of uncertainty.

Though he was impressed by her initiative, he wasn’t sure that offering a job to a runaway was a good idea, especially one that hadn’t yet shared her last name. He could practically smell the trouble rolling off of her. “What kind of a job?” he asked, hoping she’d volunteer a skill set that might shed more light on her identity.

“I’ll clean your workshop, run errands, and assist you with your leather stuff in exchange for meals and a place to crash.” She lifted her chin and added in a hopeful voice, “And access to a shower.”

“Deal.” Every instinct in him told him it was a bad idea, but “hiring her” would give him time to delve deeper into her story and hopefully get her the help she needed — the police, a counselor, or possibly even the family she’d left behind. He’d call his pastor and his higher ups at Lonestar Security for starters and take it from there.

“If you like my work, I’ll eventually want to get paid a little.” Her voice thinned with apprehension. “You know, like money.” It was as good as an admission that she had nothing and no one to go back to.

Fatherly concern twisted his insides. “I bet we could work something out.” It would certainly take money if she intended to stand on her own two feet.

“Good, because I’m gonna need money to find my mom. She’s, um…missing.” Miley sounded two snaps away from shattering again.

Missing! Hawk felt like a man who’d just caught a bombshell, hoping it wouldn’t explode in his hands. “Er, how long has your mom been missing?”

“A few months. Weird stuff has been happening to us ever since my dad died.” Miley’s eyelids drooped against her cheeks, as if unburdening herself of that bit of information had utterly exhausted her. “It’s a long story. I could probably tell it better after a shower.”

Right! “Stitches first, kid. Then you can take your shower.” Hawk hastily dialed Prim and lifted his cell phone to his ear. As it rang, he made a mental note to reach out to Lonestar Security — and maybe the police — while Prim was working her P.A. magic on Miley. It greatly disturbed him that the widowed mother of his spunky trespasser might be in deadly peril…or worse.

Man! What was unfolding in front of him was far from the birthday he’d planned. Even so, Miley’s appearance felt oddly close to a gift from Above. He glanced up at the ceiling, sending up a silent prayer of gratitude that the lovely runaway had crossed his path instead of the path of someone unscrupulous.

His next thought was far less reverent. And if I’m fortunate enough to help Miley track down her mom… An image flickered through his mind ofan older version of the funny, mouthy, fearless young woman huddled beneath a blanket in front of him. Now that would be a woman worth meeting!

Johnny reached for his wife’s hand as they started the long drive back home from Dallas. “It’s Hawk’s birthday. We should give him a call this evening.” With a few hours of driving ahead of them, they certainly had time.

Ashley looked surprised. “And crash his party?”

He snorted. “Hawk’s a loner. He doesn’t do parties.”

“Aw! You mean he’s alone on his birthday?” Her lovely heart-shaped features twisted in distress. “Nobody should be alone on their birthday.”

“He likes being alone.” Hawk tended to keep folks at arm’s length, even Johnny who worked alongside him at both Lonestar and the dairy farm. “On a night like tonight, I imagine he’s holed up in his workshop, elbows deep in one of his rawhide orders.”

“It’s not nighttime yet.” She glanced at her watch, pursing her lips in consideration. “If we don’t run into any delays, we should be back before it gets dark. Instead of a boring old phone call, we should drop by the rez with a cupcake or something.”

“A cupcake?” Johnny intercepted his father-in-law’s bemused look in the rearview mirror.

“Fine!” She snickered. “A man-sized cupcake.”

“He prefers cookies,” Johnny offered, realizing she had her heart set on doing something for the guy. He didn’t mind. Hawk was a little hard to get to know. Other than that, he was a great person.

She twisted his way eagerly. “What kind of cookies?”

“Regular old chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven.”

“Too easy!” Ashley pulled out her cell phone and dialed the woman she’d become as thick as thieves with since their brief captivity together.

He was tickled to pieces when she hit the speakerphone button. Conversations with Caro were always entertaining.

“How’s my favorite events manager?” Ashley sang out the words. She’d been bleeding sunshine since the day Emma had entered their lives. Bleeding sunshine had immediately shot to the top of Johnny’s list of favorite things.

“Starting out with a compliment is a dead giveaway that you want something.” Caro didn’t sound offended. She was just stating facts.

“Number one. I wasn’t trying to hide it. Number two. Can you blame me?” Ashley piled on the sweetness. “You’re a wealth of information. How else would I have known that hanging plaid curtains in our nursery would’ve been yesterday’s news?”

“By not being colorblind,” her friend supplied with a sniff of disdain. “Not that I have anything against plaid. I’m married to the King of Plaid. I only vetoed the curtains because they didn’t match your baby bedding.”

“If you say so.” Ashley sounded like she was trying not to laugh. “This isn’t about curtains, though. It’s about Hawk.”

“It’s his birthday, I know,” Caro gave an exaggerated sigh, “but the meanie I’m married to won’t let me do anything about it.”

There was a scuffling sound, followed by a loud smooching sound. Caro snickered and returned to the conversation. “He claims Hawk doesn’t want to be bothered.”

“Did you hear that?” Johnny gestured toward Ashley’s cell phone, knowing Clint must be listening in. “A wife who listens to her husband.”

“I listen to you.” Ashley pretended to be offended, pressing a hand over her heart in mock offense. “That’s how I found out Hawk likes chocolate chip cookies straight from the oven.”

“Except you’re on the road, and I’m not. Hence the favor.” Caro sounded all too delighted to be sucked into a mission that would almost certainly result in another bickering match with Clint.

“We’re about two hours away.” Ashley made a pouty face at her phone.

“That’s more than enough time for me to make a mess in the kitchen.” There was more scuffling in the background. Caro sounded a little breathless as she added, “Clint just offered to help.”

“Did not,” he grumbled from somewhere nearby.

“Hawk is one of the guys who helped save my life,” she protested in a laughing voice.

“The other day you claimed it was all Can Opener’s doing.” Clint’s voice rose in challenge, “though I’m not convinced you needed anyone’s help.”

“Do me a favor and hang up on them,” Johnny groaned. “Preferably before they start kissing again.”

Ashley disconnected the phone with a snicker. “You’re just jealous,” she hissed.

“Yep.” He reached for her hand again, twining their fingers together and bringing them to his mouth. He loved the life they were building together. On days like today, it felt like he was walking from miracle to miracle.

His father-in-law’s grumbling voice rose from the backseat. “Just pretend I’m asleep, you two lovebirds. I can fake snore if you want me to.”

Johnny grinned at his bride and gave her fingertips a Clint-sized smooch before letting them go.

“And don’t even think of dragging me into whatever you’re planning for Hawk.” Jeff Perkins gave a jaw-breaking yawn that didn’t sound the least bit fake. “I’m gonna rest my eyelids now, so I can babysit both Emma and Can Opener for you later on.”

“We’d appreciate that, sir.” Yep, Johnny loved the new fork in the road God had sent him on.

Every hour of it.

Every minute.

And every second.

Thank you for reading

Dairy and Deadly.

Lonestar Security’s toughest bodyguard discovers a half-starved runaway hiding in his workshop — a teen who insists the woman pretending to be her mother is an imposter, and her real mother is missing in

Rawhide and Ransom .