Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  Will raised his hands, palms out. “Hey, pal, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t shoot the messenger.”

  Mitch glowered at his old friend.

  “Look,” Will continued, “every small town in the county is begging for a slice of the discretionary funding pie. I’ve heard the same story everywhere I go.” He adjusted his wire-rimmed glasses and clicked open his briefcase. “I can show you the numbers.”

  “I don’t want to see the numbers. What I want to know is why you emailed me that the funds were approved for Rebel.” Mitch pointed to his computer. “I have it in writing and now you’re reneging. I am not happy.”

  “I’m not real thrilled myself,” Will muttered. “Mushroom management puts me in the hot seat once again.”

  “Let me make the situation a little clearer for you.” Mitch took a calming breath. “I’ve hired an officer based on your email.”

  Will stared at Mitch, eyes round behind his glasses. “That’s not good.”

  “Not good? That’s all you have to say?”

  Mitch gripped his chair arms. Daisy Anderson quit her job and moved here with five kids. How was he going to tell the woman that there was a good chance he was going to have to unhire her?

  “I, uh...” Will looked from the paperwork to Mitch. “You know this isn’t my fault. Right?”

  “What happened?” Mitch persisted.

  “A few days ago, a memo went around that fund approval would now be based upon civic engagement.”

  “Who decided this?”

  “I’m not privy to that information.”

  “Aw, come on, Will. You’ve worked for the county for a long time.”

  “I told you. Mushroom management. They keep me in the dark.”

  “You know everything that goes on, and this smacks of a politician up for reelection.”

  Will leaned closer. “You’re correct. It’s politics,” he said quietly. “Everything is politics.”

  “They’re playing with the funding for bragging rights?”

  “Tangible results are what they’re asking for.”

  “That’s what I said,” Mitch continued. “Bragging rights.”

  Will adjusted his collar and loosened his tie while at the same time Mitch clenched and unclenched his hands.

  “What’s next?” Mitch asked.

  “I submit my recommendations August first and you’ll know something shortly after.”

  “So I have, what, less than ten weeks to prove that Rebel deserves the funds and that our plan will make management look good?”

  “Basically, yes.”

  “Between you and me, Will, our budget has about that long to keep our new officer on staff. And only with some very clever math.”

  “I’m really sorry, Mitch, but I’m going to give you a little inside advice. Show the committee something they haven’t seen before. That’s the best way to earn that check.”

  “Isn’t maintaining the law enough civic engagement?”

  “Once again, this wasn’t my idea.”

  “Civic engagement,” Mitch muttered. The buzzword left a sour taste in his mouth.

  “Here’s the paperwork.” He handed Mitch a sheaf of papers. “I’ve listed all the pain points for you.”

  “I’d like to show someone a few pain points,” Mitch muttered as he assessed the stack of forms.

  “Henna here?” Will carefully closed his briefcase and stood. He stepped to the doorway and looked around the main lobby.

  “She probably left early. Tonight’s the summer kickoff at Rebel Ranch.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be there,” Will said. He turned and faced Mitch. “Just between us. Do you think I have a chance with Henna?”

  “A chance at what?” Mitch noted the earnest expression on the other man’s face, and frowned when understanding dawned. “No. Absolutely not.” He too stood, stepping around his desk and into the lobby, hoping to encourage Will’s speedy departure.

  “Really? I thought she and I were making progress.”

  “I mean, no, I don’t want to discuss, contemplate or have further conversations about the personal business between you and any member of my department.” Mitch narrowed his gaze. “Got it?”

  “I, uh—”

  The back door buzzed, and Daisy walked in. His newest officer had a bright smile on her face. She was having a very good day. Mitch grimaced at the irony.

  “Happy Friday,” she said.

  “Yeah. Right. Officer Anderson, this is Will Needleman from the county offices in Pawhuska.” Mitch nodded toward Will. “This is the new officer I was telling you about, Will.”

  “Oh?” Will turned to Daisy. “Oh! You.”

  “Excuse me?” Daisy asked as she shook his hand. Her confused gaze moved between Will and Mitch.

  “A pleasure, ma’am.” Will quickly started for the door. “I better be going.”

  “Good idea,” Mitch said.

  “Tell Henna I asked about her.”

  “Yeah, I’ll do that.” When pigs fly.

  Daisy frowned. “Is he all right?” she asked as the door thudded closed behind Will.

  “Probably not.”

  “Okay,” she returned, looking more confused.

  “Did you need something, Officer Anderson?”

  “Do you have a minute, Chief?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do not.” He glanced at his watch. Right now he needed time and distance so he could figure out what he was going to do about the mess he had been sucked into.

  “How about half a minute?” she returned.

  A hopeful smile lit her face, and Mitch considered changing his mind. Then he remembered the corner he’d been backed into by Will and the county. It would take more than half a minute to explain what was going on. Yeah, if he was going to talk to Daisy about anything, he’d have to address the current situation, as well.

  Not going to happen at six o’clock on a Friday afternoon.

  “I’m thirty minutes late,” he returned a little more gruffly than he intended. “I’m supposed to be at the ranch. Can it wait until Monday?”

  “Yes, of course.” She offered a wave of her hand in dismissal. “It’s not life or death or anything.”

  When she stepped back and studied her shoes, Mitch felt like a complete jerk.

  “I guess I’ll see you tonight,” he said.

  “Yes,” she replied with a short nod.

  “Are you nervous about this evening?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  “I’ve been through this every year since my brother took over the ranch. I can tell you that the ranch chef will make the event worth your time. So you greet and eat and leave. In and out and no one gets hurt.”

  “I can do that,” she said, a smile returning to her face. “So you aren’t much of a party person either, I take it?”

  “Four years as chief and I still dread the whole being social part of the job.”

  When she met his gaze, her blue eyes warm with understanding, Mitch found himself unable to look away.

  “That makes two of us,” she said.

  “I guess so,” he said.

  “Do you happen to know the dress code?”

  “Dress code?” Mitch raised a hand and dropped it. “I, um...”

  The door opened and Henna walked in.

  “Henna can help you with that.”

  “With what?” Henna asked.

  “Dress code for tonight?” Daisy asked the department admin.

  “Jeans, denim skirt. Anything you can dance in and don’t mind if it gets decorated with a little hay, red dirt and campfire smoke.” She grinned and linked an arm through Daisy’s. “Text me your choices, and I’ll help you decide.”

  “Thank you, Henna,” Daisy said.

  �
�No problem. We gals have to stick together.”

  Daisy returned the smile and nodded. “I’ll see you both later, then.”

  Mitch’s gaze followed Daisy as she left. He ran a hand through his hair.

  “You all right, Chief?”

  He looked up at Henna. “I thought you were gone for the day.”

  “I ran weekly receipts to the bank before they closed.”

  Mitch offered a distracted nod.

  “I saw Will outside.” Henna crossed her arms. “Did you tell Daisy yet?”

  Mitch’s head jerked up. “Will told you.”

  “To be fair, I pulled it out of him.” She sighed. “He was pretty upset.”

  “I’m not too thrilled myself. Things don’t look good,” he said. An ache settled in the pit of his stomach at the admission.

  “How not good?”

  “If we don’t find a way to be first in line for those funds, I may have to let Daisy go.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.” Henna closed her eyes for a moment as if to allow his words to sink in. “You need to let her know what’s going on as soon as possible.”

  “I will. Just not until Monday. I’m not going to spoil tonight. It’s her welcome to Rebel.”

  She lifted her brows and gave a slow shake of her head. “It won’t be much of a welcome if Daisy finds out that she may lose her job.”

  “Yeah, that’s why she isn’t going to find out. Yet. You keep Will away from Daisy, and everything will be okay.”

  His admin frowned, a pained expression on her face. “As far as plans go, this doesn’t seem to be your finest.”

  Mitch released a deep breath. Henna was right, and he didn’t need the voice in his head to tell him he was a coward.

  * * *

  “What do you think?” Daisy asked. She stepped into the living room and did a pirouette to show off her new burgundy Western shirt tucked into the waist of the boot-cut jeans.

  Her grandmother looked up from her spot on the couch between the children who were watching their favorite movie. On the floor, the kittens had curled into balls of fur and snoozed on a blanket. She grinned. “Look at you with those pearl buttons and corded trim. Ooh! Cowboy boots too.”

  Daisy struck a pose and lifted the hem of her jeans. “Nothing says city slicker like brand-new boots, but when in Rome. Besides, I already had one unexpected experience with ranch life. This time, I’m prepared.”

  The twins glanced up at her, and their eyes widened.

  “Aunt D, you look like a real cowgirl,” Seth said.

  “Uh-huh, you do, Aunty Daisy. I like your braid too,” Grace added.

  “Thank you, guys. That means a lot.”

  “You need one of those hats like Chief Rainbolt wears,” her grandmother added.

  “A Stetson?” Daisy chuckled. “That might be pushing this cowgirl thing over the edge, Gran.”

  “Nonsense. Your birthday is coming up. We’ll have to check into that.”

  Daisy shook her head. There was no stopping her grandmother once she’d made up her mind. The best path was to change the subject. She turned to the twins. “You’ll be good for Gran while I’m gone, right?”

  They both nodded.

  She routinely asked them to behave, but she was very careful never to ask them to take care of the younger children. Daisy understood only too well what it was like to be forced to grow up too soon when a parent died. The twins deserved a childhood of their own, and she intended to give them one. She was determined to put the joy back into their lives.

  “I hate that I’m leaving you with the kids again,” Daisy said to her grandmother.

  “Honey, that’s why I’m here,” Alice said. “It’s important that you get out and meet the folks of Rebel. This is your home now.” She stood and picked up sleeping PJ and placed her on a blanket on the colorful area rug Daisy had purchased for the room.

  Daisy nodded, knowing she was right but still hesitant about tonight’s outing.

  Her grandmother continued. “It’s also important to build a support system. A church home and community friends you can call upon when you need help.”

  “I hear you, Gran.” She heard her, but she wasn’t biting. Asking for help meant depending on people and her experience said that people always let you down.

  “You’re a mother now, so you’ve got to think like one. No more hiding in the back pew of church. You’ve got to get to know folks for the kiddos’ sakes.”

  Daisy’s chin came up at her grandmother’s well-targeted words. “How do you know I was a back-pew lurker?”

  Alice laughed and blew a short raspberry. “Please,” she said with an exaggerated drawl. “I know my granddaughter.”

  “I’m an introvert. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Her grandmother stepped closer and lowered her voice. “There’s a big difference between being an introvert and hiding from life. Since your daddy died, you’ve avoided engaging in anything that could leave you open to the pain of loss again.” She shook her head. “I daresay, fifteen years later and losing your sister has only made things worse.”

  Daisy scrambled for a response, but her grandmother kept talking.

  “And not to speak ill of the ex, but sweetheart, you can do better than a man who takes off the first time you need him.”

  “Gran!” Though she protested, Daisy knew the words were true.

  “Go,” her grandmother continued with a wave of a hand. “Allow yourself to have fun, and stop worrying about tomorrow. You’re here because the good Lord led you here. Relax in that knowledge.” She grinned and offered a mischievous wink. “Who knows, maybe you’ll meet a nice cowboy.”

  Right. A nice cowboy who isn’t terrified of my ready-made family.

  Daisy mulled over the conversation with her grandmother as she guided the minivan to the outskirts of town and the turnoff to Rebel Ranch. Dating wasn’t an option anymore. The kids required all her attention, and she wasn’t going to allow them to get close to someone who had one foot out the door.

  When she turned into the ranch drive and passed the iron arch, a young cowboy directing traffic pointed her to a parking area on the gravel. She parked and pulled down the visor to check her appearance one last time before she got out of the van.

  Hundreds of tiny twinkle lights had been strung along the path to the ranch, and were laced through the overhead trees to create a starlit canopy. Though it wouldn’t be completely dark for another hour and a half, the lights were still visible, shimmering among the foliage and providing a festive atmosphere. Tonight there was a slight breeze, bringing with it the now familiar scents of hay and horses and, yes, even manure. The closer Daisy got to the ranch, the stronger the pungent and tantalizing smells of roasting meat became, and her stomach rumbled in anticipation.

  At the entrance to the event, an amply built middle-aged woman, whose pink cowboy hat sat perched on silver sky-high hair, greeted Daisy, handing her a stick-on name tag along with a black marker.

  “Are you visiting Rebel, dear?” she asked.

  “No. I live here now.” Daisy wrote her name on the badge and handed back the marker before she peeled off the paper and placed the name tag on her new shirt. “I’m Daisy Anderson from the Rebel Police Department.”

  The woman grinned. “Welcome to town, Daisy Anderson. I’m Saylor Tuttle, the pastor’s wife.”

  Daisy took the offered hand, warming at the enthusiastic greeting.

  “I hope we’ll see you in church on Sunday, dear.”

  “Yes. Of course. I’ll be there.”

  “Wonderful. Now head on over to that first tent. We have beverages, and tables lined with side dishes and desserts. I hope you brought your appetite.”

  “I definitely did.” She paused. “What’s in the second tent?”

  “There’s
a local country band warming up in there, and a portable dance floor has been put down. With the lake so close by, and this being the month of June, we try to keep the nightly moth, June bug and mosquito attacks to a minimum. The tents help, plus Reece had the grounds sprayed.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “Oh, yes. Keep your windows closed at night unless you have screens.”

  “Thank you for that information.”

  Daisy moved hesitantly toward the tents where groups of people stood around talking, laughing and eating. Amber flames danced in the firepit as a few folks sat on log benches chatting. Across the yard, to her right, she spotted Roscoe in jeans, a Western shirt and an oversize brass trophy buckle, chatting with a group of old-timers. When he raised his head and his gaze met hers, her partner offered a tip of his white hat and a thumbs-up with his bandaged appendage.

  She couldn’t help but smile in return.

  To Daisy’s left, Henna stood conversing with the tall, slim man she’d met earlier in the office.

  Relieved to see familiar faces, the tension holding her shoulders rigid relaxed. A moment later her senses went on alert as Mitch stepped up to the firepit. He added several pieces of wood to the fire, causing the flames to shoot up and toss small bits of ruby embers and black ash into the air. When he stood and dusted off his hands, his gaze connected with hers. Surprise skittered across his face, and he offered a nod of greeting and the shadow of a smile.

  Her heart fluttered and she rebuked the response. She was a practical woman, and practical women’s hearts did not flutter.

  As Mitch crossed the short distance between them, Daisy couldn’t help but notice the subtle change that civilian clothes made. His take-no-prisoners stance seemed to have relaxed now that he was out of uniform. In a plaid Western shirt and faded jeans with boots and a black hat, he seemed like any other cowboy at the event. Except he wasn’t. He was Mitch.

  And even in civilian attire, the man was formidable. Suddenly it occurred to Daisy that Roscoe was right. Accusing her brand-new boss of coddling her probably wasn’t the best of moves her first week on the job. She’d let it go. For now.

  “Hey, you made it,” he said.