Chris

by Cheryl Wright

  Chris

  River Valley Lawmen Series

  Book One

  CHERYL WRIGHT

  Contents:

  Copyright ©2018 by Cheryl Wright

  Thanks

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Message from the Author

  About the Author

  Author Links

  CHRIS

  RIVER VALLEY LAWMEN SERIES

  Book One

  Copyright ©2018 by Cheryl Wright

  Cover Artist: Black Widow Books

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book

  Thanks

  Thanks to my very dear friends (and authors), Margaret Tanner and Susan Horsnell for their enduring encouragement and friendship.

  Thanks also to Alan, my husband of over 45 years, who has been a relentless supporter of my writing for many years.

  And last, but by no means least, thank you to all my wonderful readers who encourage me to continue writing these stories. It is such a joy to me knowing so many of you enjoy reading my stories. I love writing them as much as you love reading them.

  Chapter One

  Charlotte Jones shifted in her seat.

  It had been a long drive from Los Angeles to River Valley, Montana where her aunt lived.

  She’d packed her whole life into the little trailer she was pulling behind her beat up Honda, but it had to be done.

  She’d sold off what could be sold, given away what she no longer wanted or couldn’t bear to see, and the rest, what little of it there was, she bundled up to take with her.

  It was all she had left of her five-year marriage to Dale Jones. Along with regrets.

  Five years of absolute bliss. Of being married to the man she held most dear in her heart.

  He was the best husband, best lover, and would have been a fantastic father.

  They’d had plans. Big plans. About their marriage, about their future, and about their future family.

  Kids. Lots of them. They were going to sell their tiny two-bedroom apartment in Los Angeles and look for a big house out of town.

  Where there was land. Somewhere for their yet to be conceived kids to run around and play and enjoy the outdoors.

  Their house would be double storey, and their children would run up and down those stairs despite being told not to. They might even try to slide down the banister.

  It would be huge, with at least five bedrooms, perhaps even six. There would be a playroom for the children, and the kitchen would be massive. It would need to be with that many kids.

  They would plant a vegetable garden, buy some chickens, perhaps even have a cow to milk.

  They had it all worked out. Dale was working his way up the ladder of the LAPD and was planning on taking his sergeant’s exam soon. He desperately wanted to achieve that before applying for a transfer.

  Charlotte’s catering business, albeit in the early stages, was bringing in money, nearly but not quite enough to earn a full-time living. But ever the supportive husband, Dale didn’t care. He just wanted her to be happy.

  They had it all worked out. With the money Charlotte was earning, and with his raise for being a sergeant, along with the money from the sale of their apartment, they’d have almost enough to buy their dream home.

  First though, they had to reach their goals.

  Then find the perfect house.

  Their forever home for their four plus kids.

  Charlotte’s heart began to beat faster. She wiped sweat from her forehead and wriggled about in the driver’s seat. Her thoughts about the past were making her uncomfortable, and she fought back tears.

  She pulled to the side of the road and let the tears fall until they became heart wrenching sobs. It was time, she decided, having shed virtually no tears until now.

  She tried to chase the memories away with her tears, but they were steadfast in their endeavour.

  She recalled that moment three years ago with clarity. It was still ever so vivid in her mind. Etched into her memory forever, almost like an old movie she replayed over and over again.

  The moment she opened the door to Dale’s distraught sergeant, she knew something was very wrong. When she noticed two fellow officers, close friends of Dale’s standing behind him, faces white as a sheet, it was confirmed in her mind.

  Her husband and soulmate was dead.

  ~~~

  Deputy Chris Dolan let the cool air wash over him as he lay in bed.

  The night had been hot, and he’d tossed and turned for most of it, wishing it would end. Now that it had, he felt like he needed another hour or two of sleep.

  It wouldn’t happen.

  He sighed.

  Coffee. He needed coffee.

  Desperately.

  He pulled on his jeans, leaving them open for the moment, and headed for the kitchen.

  Then remembered the coffee machine had died. He’d grab one at the sheriff’s office.

  Feeling a little agitated over the broken coffee machine, he was tempted to skip his shave this morning. But he caved and headed for the bathroom.

  When that arduous task was done, he jumped in the shower, letting the warm water wash over and down his aching body. Wresting the bad guy to the ground tended to cause those sorts of problems. It didn’t happen ten years ago. He was a little younger, and a lot more fit back then.

  He turned off the hot water and let the cold water roll over him. For about five seconds. What was he thinking?

  At least he was more awake now than he was ten minutes ago. He groaned. Was he really? He desperately needed coffee!

  Pondering the day ahead of him, Chris smiled. He never knew just what his day held in store for him. It could be peaceful and serene one minute, then all hell could break loose.

  He sure did love his job.

  ~~~

  Chris strolled into work, coffee still on his mind.

  The longer he didn’t have it, the more he felt like a bear with a sore head.

  “Morning,” he grumbled under his breath as he walked past the reception desk. “Need coffee,” he said, heading for the break room.

  “Broken.”

  He heard the words trailing behind him as he continued walking, then suddenly stopped. “Broken? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He ran his hands across his chin. He really did need coffee to give him a jump start in the morning. “Are you certain?”

  The receptionist didn’t get the chance to answer.

  “Definitely broken,” Sheriff Chase Callahan confirmed, coming out of his office. “But I think we have some granulated coffee somewhere.”

  Chris pulled a face.

  “Don’t tell me. You haven’t had your coffee this morning,” Chase said. He grinned broadly. “We’re going to have a wonderful day,” he said, chuckling as he turned to walk away.

  “My machine at home is broken too. Must be the day for it,” Chris told him. “Gotta have coffee. If there’s nothing pressing, I’ll whip over to Aunt Lizzie’s and grab a cup.” He started to walk away, then spun back to face Chase.

  “You? You’re worse than me in the mornings.” Now it was Chris’s turn to chuckle.

  “Sure, thanks.” Chase shoved some notes into Chris’s hand. “Grab tucker too. On me today.” He grinned, then went back into his office.

  Chris wondered what was up. Not that he was a scrooge, but it was not like Chase to be shouting coffee, let alone ‘tucker’ as Chase had called it.

>   It got his interest up.

  ~~~

  The deputy strolled into Aunt Lizzie’s Kitchen, the local café, and glanced about as the little bell above the door tinkled.

  The place was near empty, which wasn’t unusual for that hour of the day. Not that Chris went there often, because he didn’t. He’d be lucky to buy a coffee once a month. But since his machine was busted, that could prove to change.

  Aunt Lizzie was standing behind the counter, cleaning the benches, and preparing for the mid-morning rush.

  “Deputy,” she said, nodding at him.

  He tipped his hat. “Aunt Lizzie. How are you today?” He couldn’t see anything out of place, yet he knew something was amiss. It just wasn’t like Chase to hand over money like that.

  “What can I do for you, young fella?” Everyone was young to Aunt Lizzie. Even those who were over thirty, like him.

  “Coffee for two – to go,” he said. “And a bite to eat. It’s for Chase and me,” he added. Being locals, he didn’t need to tell Lizzie how they had their coffee. She was amazing; she knew every person’s name and how they had their beverage of choice. Cappuccino, latte, hot chocolate, whatever, she knew it by heart. Even whether they had regular, skim, almond or soy milk.

  He wasn’t sure what the town’s people would do if Lizzie ever decided to sell the business. He shook his head. That would never happen. At least he hoped it wouldn’t; everyone loved the woman standing before him.

  Lizzie stood silently and thought for a moment. “We have some new items on the menu – freshly baked apple cinnamon muffins,” she said. “Or there’s apple slice, lemon meringue pie, or....”

  She was interrupted with noise from the kitchen.

  A young woman was carrying a tray of muffins. The smell coming out of the kitchen was divine and had his taste buds working overtime.

  “Ah, here are the apple cinnamon muffins now.” Chris turned toward the kitchen to see a complete stranger.

  He stood watching for about thirty seconds, then tipped his hat to her, eventually pulling it off his head.

  She stood tall, her long brown hair tied back in a pony tail. The same flour that was sprinkled across her face also covered the black apron tied around her waist.

  “Ma’am,” he said after long moments of unintentional staring, feeling more than a little curious about the newcomer.

  “Let me help with that,” he said, suddenly rushing toward the young woman, and offering to take the tray.

  His hands reached out, and their fingers touched. Their eyes met momentarily.

  “I’m fine,” she said. Then she smiled. “But thanks.”

  He took a step back and straightened up. Lizzie stood to the side, watching the interaction and grinning.

  “What?” he demanded, when he noticed her out the corner of his eye.

  She was covering her mouth with her hand, but it was too late. He’d already seen the twinkle in her eye. “Oh, nothing,” she said, obviously quite amused about something.

  The tray was deposited on the back counter, ready for the muffins to be placed in the glass display case once they cooled down.

  “Christian,” Lizzie said. “This is my niece, Charlotte Jones.”

  He winced inwardly. Lizzie always insisted on using his full name instead of shortening it like everyone else. She was the only one that did. “Pleased to meet you, Ma’am,” he said, stretching across the counter to finally shake her hand. “But everyone calls me Chris. Your aunt is the only one who calls me Christian.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Christian,” Charlotte said with a smile, then looked across at the older woman who had a big grin on her face.

  Lizzie knew he didn’t like to be called Christian, but she insisted. She really loved to stir him up.

  “Coffee’s ready,” Lizzie told him, still looking amused. “Did you want the muffins, or something else?”

  “The muffins, I guess,” he said, still wondering about Charlotte.

  “You’ll love them,” Lizzie said. “Charlotte made them. It’s going to be wonderful having her around.”

  She pulled her niece close and gave her a hug. “Charlotte has agreed to help me out,” she added. “It was starting to get too much for me.”

  Too much? For Aunt Lizzie? Since when?

  His interest was suddenly even more piqued. “Oh? Are you holidaying here?” he asked, turning to the newcomer.

  She looked to her aunt before answering. “River Valley is my new home. Sorry, I have to get back to the kitchen,” she said before scurrying off.

  “Tell Chase I said he needs to cut down on the coffee,” Lizzie said, gazing into his eyes.

  Chris stared back. “What do you mean?” He was confused.

  Lizzie looked at him and laughed. “He’s already been in this morning. Met Charlotte too,” she said, still chuckling as she bagged the two muffins.

  Chris paid, then reluctantly left. He wanted to find out more about Chase’s earlier visit. It was fairly obvious Chase had set him up.

  Chris wasn’t interested in a relationship. Any relationship. After what happened to his brother.....

  A shiver shot through him.

  He didn’t want to think about it.

  ~~~

  Sheriff Callahan was sitting at his desk doing paperwork when the deputy arrived back in the office.

  He tapped on the open door, then shuffled inside. “Lizzie wondered if you’re drinking too much of this,” Chris said blandly as he handed over the hot coffee and still warm muffin.

  Chase chuckled and took a sip of the scalding beverage. “Did she indeed?” He grinned at Chris, obviously not embarrassed he’d been caught out.

  Chris took a long draw of the revered liquid and savoured it, rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing. “Oh my God. I really needed that,” he said as he leaned back in the comfortable chair.

  Opening the paper bag, he pulled a piece off the muffin and shoved it in his mouth. “Oh my Lord. That is divine!” Lizzie was a fantastic cook, but this outdid anything she had ever made. “How long is Charlotte helping Lizzie, do you know? These are to die for.”

  Chase finished what was in his mouth before answering. “Totally agree. Amazing, absolutely amazing.” He stuffed more muffin in his mouth. “No idea how long she’s helping out. Lizzie didn’t say,” he said once his mouth was empty again. “But she did say she’s living here now, so we can only hope.”

  “Mmmmm, these have been sent from heaven.” Chris took another huge sip of coffee, then went to stand.

  “Stay,” Chase told him. “We have stuff to go over. Besides,” he said, grinning as he did. “I want to hear all about Charlotte. Was she nice?” Chris glanced up at him. He didn’t appear one bit guilty. He wouldn’t be surprised if Chase and Lizzie planned this between them.

  She was renowned for setting up the town’s bachelors with young women. Who’s to say she wouldn’t do it for her own niece?

  “You ought to know,” he said, getting annoyed. “Since you met her already. Don’t you go setting me up. You and Lizzie are good at that sort of stuff.” He gulped down the last of his coffee and snatched up his muffin as his pager went off.

  It was going to be a long day, he was certain.

  ~~~

  Charlotte put another batch of muffins in the oven.

  This sure was a busy store her aunt had. She’d had no idea Aunt Lizzie’s Kitchen was so busy. She’d have moved here sooner if she realised how much her aunt needed her help.

  Lizzie had been pleading with Charlotte for over a year, but she’d thought it was just to get her away from the tragedy that had struck. To help distance herself from the memories.

  She’d denied it all along, and now Charlotte could see first hand that Lizzie had been telling the truth and not just trying to help her out.

  Her dear Aunt Lizzie really did need assistance.

  While not an old woman, Lizzie was not young either. Charlotte wasn’t sure exactly how old she was, but she had t
o be at least in her 50’s going by the age of her own mother, who had died some years ago after being struck by a car as she walked across the road.

  She didn’t dare ask Lizzie’s age - that would not go down well!

  She cleaned down the kitchen counter, ready to make the next batch of whatever was needed. She stuck her head out the kitchen door to see how busy the store was and was amazed.

  Nearly every table was taken up, and there was a queue almost out the door. Her aunt had told her it got busy mid-morning, but she certainly didn’t expect this. Especially with River Valley being such a small town.

  But her idea of a small town, and Aunt Lizzie’s were apparently two totally different things.

  Two young women scurried about, one taking orders, and the other serving the customers at the tables. Lizzie manned the coffee machine. The part-timers only came in during the busiest of times.

  How Lizzie had managed mostly by herself was a puzzle Charlotte knew she’d never solve. It was obviously taking its toll on her aunt, as she seemed to be moving slower than she’d ever seen before.

  “A product of getting old,” Lizzie had told her, but Charlotte wasn’t so sure. More a product of doing too much, she was certain.

  All of that would change as of right now.

  She ventured out into the main area of the store and stood behind the counter assessing what baked goods needed replenishing.

  With two batches of muffins in the oven nearly ready to come out, it looked like she should make some more apple slice and perhaps even lemon meringue tarts. They were both very popular.

  As she headed back to the kitchen an idea popped into her head. Aunt Lizzie had never sold cake by the slice. That could be quite popular, especially for those eating in.

  She decided to make a carrot cake, a black forrest cake, and a cheesecake. They’d always been popular when she’d catered for parties and weddings back home.

  On second thought, she’d just go for carrot cake and see how that sold, then reassess. The mid-morning rush was almost over, so she didn’t want to go into overkill.