Finding the Road Home

by Tina Radcliffe

  “I said I’d be here.”

  “Yeah, you did.” Mitch pushed his hat back and assessed her outfit. “Nice boots.”

  Had she imagined the twitching of his lips at the comment? “Um, thanks,” Daisy said.

  “Reece is busy. Let me get you acquainted with our community.”

  Mitch proceeded to introduce her to friendly locals who were eager to meet the town’s newest law-enforcement officer. Daisy smiled and nodded, as Mitch chatted up the townsfolk and ranch guests like they were old friends. The police chief was much more of a people person than she would have guessed.

  By the time they finished making the rounds nearly an hour later, Daisy’s jaw ached from smiling. “That was my official trial by fire, right?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Now you can say that you have been officially introduced to the town of Rebel,” Mitch said.

  “Oh, I believe that. I’ll never remember everyone’s name.”

  “A little overwhelming, huh?”

  “Yes.”

  “They mean well, and they’re sincere.” His phone buzzed, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Reece needs my help. I trust you’ll be all right on your own?”

  “I keep reminding you that I’m a law-enforcement officer. I can handle crowd control.”

  “I’m referring to the curious folks who are going to want to chat it up with the new cop in town who looks like a Sheplers magazine advertisement.”

  “I, um... Sheplers?” Daisy stuttered, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth as Mitch walked away.

  “Look at you, friend.”

  Daisy turned to find Henna at her side, grinning.

  “I hope you’re aware that you’ve had Mitch Rainbolt’s attention for the last sixty minutes,” she said. “Folks are starting to talk.”

  “Folks?” Daisy cocked her head.

  “The local gossips and pretty much every single woman in this town.” Henna’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

  “He was just introducing me around.”

  Henna laughed. “No worries. They’re simply bitterly jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of what?”

  “That you snagged Mitch’s attention for so long.”

  “But I told you—”

  Henna raised a hand. “Tell that to his fan club. Daisy, the Rainbolt brothers are the most eligible bachelors Rebel has to offer. Mitch maybe more so because he couldn’t care less.”

  Once again, Daisy glanced over at Mitch. He stood silhouetted against the fading sunset, tall with those broad shoulders and angular face. She shivered and turned away, her glance moving to Will Needleman.

  “What about him?” Daisy asked.

  Her friend’s smile became tender as she looked across the grass at her companion. “Will? Oh, he’s taken. I’m just not ready for him to know that. The truth is, the Rainbolts are far too complicated for me. I like a simple man.”

  Daisy choked on a laugh. “Did you just call Will simple?”

  “Poor word choice.” Henna smiled. “I prefer an uncomplicated, easygoing man. Will is that.”

  “Nice save.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Um, Henna?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What’s Sheplers?” Daisy asked.

  “A huge Western-wear store. They have one in Tulsa. Why?”

  “Just curious.”

  Henna nodded. “Okay, now let’s get down to important stuff. Have you eaten?”

  “No, but I think I’m going to save the barbecue for later. I want dessert first.”

  “I respect that. I’m a meat and potatoes girl.” Henna put a hand on her hip. “These curves don’t happen by themselves, you know.” She gestured toward the smoking grills. “I’ll grab a hamburger and catch up with you later.”

  Daisy nodded and moved to the food tent. Her breath caught, and she clasped her hands together. An entire table was dedicated to pies. The tins sat side by side, each special in its own way. The apple was decorated with a golden brown lattice, the lemon meringue piled high with a perfectly whipped peak of lightly toasted meringue. She put her hands in her back pockets to fight the strong urge to break off a piece of crust to sample the browned goodness of her favorite—pecan, whose glossy caramel and nut filling glowed beneath the soft tent lights.

  Instead, she stood for minutes eyeing the varieties. Without hesitation, Daisy took less than a sliver of each. Satisfied with the arrangement on her plate, she found a seat by the firepit and began to evaluate her selection before digging in.

  “How’s that pie?” a familiar masculine voice asked as she chased the last crumb of pecan around her plate with her finger.

  “Which one?” Daisy licked a bit of apple pie from her fork and savored the flavors before looking up at Mitch.

  He blinked. “Ah... How many did you taste?”

  “I’ve tried them all and found none wanting. Except the opportunity for a second helping.” She scooped up the last dab of meringue on the plate and swirled the light confection on her tongue. This was near to perfection. Tonight, she was sitting at the feet of a master, and Daisy knew she must find out who the master was.

  “I left you near the barbecue. Did you have dinner?”

  “All in good time.” She tapped her plate with the side of her fork. “Is there a bakery in town?”

  “No. Just the donut place and the Piggly Wiggly. The diner will sell you a whole pie if you catch them early in the day.”

  “No bakery?”

  “You have to go to Cleveland or Hominy if you want a proper bakery.”

  “Then who makes these pies?”

  “Luna.”

  “Luna.” Daisy looked up at him again. “May I meet this Luna?”

  “Yeah, sure. She’s up at the mess hall. The big kitchen is there.”

  “How do we get there?” she asked.

  His eyes rounded. “You want to go now?”

  Daisy glanced down at her empty paper plate. “Yes, please.”

  Mitch pointed to the trash barrel and recycle bin, where she disposed of her plate and plastic fork. He led her from the firepit to the walking path that went from the big guesthouse into the woods.

  “Careful. The sun is setting, and it can be dark on the path with all this foliage. There are pole lights at intervals, but you never know what you might run into.”

  Daisy pointed to her boots. “I’m prepared this time.”

  “I noticed that.” An amused smile touched his lips. “So, what’s with your pie obsession?” he asked.

  “Some girls dream of being a dancer, a doctor, a teacher. I’ve always dreamed of baking full-time. Pies are my specialty.”

  “So why didn’t you become a baker?”

  “That’s something I’m still trying to figure out.” She concentrated on the dirt path, her eyes on the toes of her new boots.

  “How did a baker become a cop?”

  “Oh, you know. The usual reasons one goes into law enforcement.” She stepped around a rock, and matched her strides to Mitch’s long ones.

  He turned and looked at her. “Are there usual reasons?”

  “Absolutely. For me it was because my father was in law enforcement,” she said. “You know how that goes. Young kid, idolizes their father.”

  “No, but I’ll take your word for it. Is your father still active?”

  “I, um... We lost him when I was a kid.” Daisy scrambled to segue the conversation away from herself. “What about you? Why don’t you work here at the ranch like your brother?”

  “When we took over the ranch, the operation wasn’t bringing in enough income to sustain both Reece and me. The place was rented out and had been maintained over the years, but there weren’t cattle or horses. It was just the land.”

  “Why Reece? Not you? You’re the oldest.�
�

  Mitch raised his brows at her question. “My brother is the visionary when it comes to the ranch.”

  “And you? The usual reasons to go into law enforcement, right?” She stuck her hands in her front pockets as they walked.

  “Explain what you mean by that,” he said.

  “The usual reasons? Family legacy, or control. Maybe altruism.”

  “I guess you think you’ve figured me out?”

  She looked him up and down. Did she dare answer? “Offhand, I’d say control is your driving motivation. The land, animals and Mother Nature are defiant. But the law, the law is all about rules. There is very little gray.”

  “Here I thought I became a cop because I wanted to make a difference in the lives of people around me. Specifically my siblings, who needed a paycheck and medical insurance.” His expression was unreadable as he met her gaze. “Instead, you’re telling me it’s all about my control issues.”

  Daisy swallowed and attempted to backpedal. Once again, she’d put her foot in her mouth by being honest. “I apologize, Chief. And you’re right. I don’t know you well enough to know your issues.” She paused, horrified that she had dug herself deeper. “I mean if you have issues.”

  “We can agree to disagree on that one,” he said. “I don’t have issues.”

  “Again, I apologize.”

  “Not to worry. It’s possible that maybe I am touchy about the subject.”

  Mitch offered a glimmer of a smile, enough for Daisy to release the breath she’d been holding.

  “I only said maybe,” he murmured.

  As he said the words, a blur of an animal raced across the path and Daisy nearly stumbled. Mitch grabbed her arm before she fell.

  “Thanks.” She stepped back from his touch and glanced around. “What was that?”

  “If I had to guess, I’d say it was a roadrunner.”

  “A real roadrunner.”

  “Yep, a real roadrunner.” He led her around to the front of the building and pulled open the huge glass doors of the ranch mess hall. “This way.”

  Daisy followed him to the granite serving counter that ran in a horseshoe shape, separating the tables from the main kitchen. “Look at this place,” she murmured while gazing through the open doors into the spacious kitchen.

  “Just in time, Señor Mitch.” A petite woman with a riot of black curls threaded with gray and pulled back with a turquoise comb came bustling from the back to greet them. Adjusting her pristine white-buttoned chef’s coat, she grinned, the smile lighting up her round face. “I have more desserts to take to the party. You get the golf cart. Sí?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He looked to Daisy. “Luna Diaz, this is Daisy Anderson.”

  “Go get the golf cart,” Luna said with a commanding flip of her hand. “I will take care of your friend.”

  Mitch looked from Daisy to the petite chef. “I’ll be right back.”

  The older woman grinned and stepped forward to take Daisy’s hands. “So, Mitch finally has a special friend. It’s about time.”

  “Oh, no,” Daisy said, alarmed at the inference. “I’m a police officer. Mitch is my boss.” Daisy cleared her throat. “I wanted to meet you. I’m an aspiring pâtissière. Self-taught. I’m not a professional like you.”

  “We are kindred spirits then. You and I will schedule a time to chat after the party.”

  “That would be very nice, thank you.”

  “I must go make a phone call.” Luna smiled, her eyes bright with amusement, as though she knew a secret. “But you may look around. Open the cupboards. Have fun.”

  “Thank you.” Daisy held back the bubble of excitement at the opportunity to wander through the professional kitchen. She ran a hand over the stainless-steel counters and stopped to examine the big convection oven and the commercial mixer. At the sight of the reversible dough sheeter, she paused and sighed, unable to contain a smile. Oh, to have access to this equipment.

  She turned when the big glass doors opened and Henna and Will entered the kitchen.

  “Hey, Daisy. They sent us for more desserts,” Henna said. While she was all smiles, Will fidgeted and looked away.

  “We’re going to take them. Mitch has gone for the golf cart,” Daisy said.

  “Great. We better get going.” Henna slipped her arm through Will’s and pulled him toward the door.

  As Daisy circled the counter, her gaze caught on a red swatch of cotton on the ground. Henna’s. She stepped outside, hoping to return the bandanna. In the darkness, the couple’s conversation drifted to her.

  “Mitch will tell Daisy on Monday,” Henna said.

  “Uh-oh. Remind me to stay out of Rebel next week,” Will returned.

  “This is all your fault, Will.”

  “Henna,” Will protested.

  Daisy froze, unable to move. The voices faded as the twosome walked farther down the path.

  “Daisy?”

  She turned to find Mitch behind her.

  “Everything okay?”

  She stepped back into the kitchen, letting the screen door slowly close behind her. “What were they talking about?”

  “Who?”

  “Will and Henna.” Daisy met Mitch’s gaze and searched his face. “Henna said you were going to tell me something on Monday?”

  Mitch grimaced and rubbed a hand over his jaw, but he didn’t look away. “We’ve had a glitch in our funding.”

  Daisy’s pulse tapped a staccato beat of panic. A glitch? She knew all about glitches. “A last man in is the first man out glitch?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” she choked out.

  “I’ve got the golf cart outside. Let’s load up the food, and then we can talk.”

  They worked in silence for moments. Daisy sneaked peeks at Mitch as she worked, hoping to figure out just how bad the situation really was. Had she lost a job she’d barely begun? As usual, his face remained a mask.

  “Gracias,” Luna said as they grabbed two flats of cookies and a tray of pies. She handed Daisy her card. “Call me and we will have coffee.”

  Daisy nodded numbly.

  “Are you all right?” Luna asked, peering closely.

  “Yes,” Daisy murmured. “It’s all good.”

  “Call me,” Luna repeated. She patted Daisy’s arm before she went back into the kitchen.

  Mitch got in the golf cart and started the engine. “I’d planned to talk to you on Monday.”

  “That much I understood.” Daisy nodded. “You knew something this afternoon and blew me off.” Frustration simmered inside her, and she struggled to maintain a calm she wasn’t feeling. “I’m out of a job, and you didn’t say a thing.”

  “You aren’t out of a job.” Again, Mitch’s gaze was steady as his dark eyes met hers.

  “Sounds like it to me.”

  “Are you going to get in?” he asked, gesturing toward the passenger seat.

  Daisy opened her mouth and then closed it. She didn’t even know how to address him. Mitch? Chief? Was he still her boss? “I’d like to walk.”

  “I can’t leave you like this.”

  “Leave me how? Humiliated? Shocked? Pick one.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t think you understand. I just met half the town. Not only am I embarrassed, but I’m unemployed. Unemployed with a mortgage and five kids.”

  He slowly got out of the golf cart and faced her, his gaze resolute. “I won’t allow that to happen. This is my fault and I’m going to fix it.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know how yet. But we have until the end of the summer to prove to the county that the Rebel Police Department deserves the funding we need to maintain your position.”

  “Prove? How?”

  “Civic engagement. The new buzzword. That’s how we’re going to keep our budget from ta
nking.”

  “Civic engagement,” Daisy murmured while kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot. She was silent, collecting herself before she lifted her head and met his gaze. “You should have told me today.”

  “You’re right. I apologize. My only defense is that I didn’t want to spoil the evening for you.”

  “It’s not your job to take care of me. I’ve been doing that for a very long time.”

  “Maybe so.” He offered a slow nod and released a long breath. “You have every right to be angry.”

  “I don’t know what I am.”

  “And you don’t want a ride?”

  “No, thank you.”

  Without another word, Mitch got back into the golf cart and turned it around.

  Daisy kept her eyes on the vehicle until she could no longer see the ruby taillights. Then she gave the hard red dirt a swift kick.

  How had everything gone from hopeful anticipation to disaster?

  She began to walk. Ahead of her, through the trees, the sun said good-night to the day as the stars sprinkled across the sky began to shine. Daisy kept walking, even as the weight of what happened pressed down. She had five children depending on her. The move to Rebel had been prayerful, with the deep awareness that she and the kids needed what the town could offer. A life without the rug being pulled out from under them...again.

  Everything would be okay, she reassured herself. Somehow, she’d find her way to the other side of this mess. She had to.

  Chapter Four

  When Mitch’s cell rang he debated the merits of ignoring the interruption. He hadn’t had a day off in weeks. Not that he was exactly relaxing. Hard work was the best way to cure what ailed you, his grandfather always said. Right now, Daisy Anderson was what ailed him.

  He wiped his brow with his forearm and took a peek at the sun, beating down from the cloudless blue sky. With a grunt of resignation, he pulled off his work gloves before reaching for the ringing cell phone in his back pocket. He recognized the number as his younger brother’s.

  “You need something, Tuck?” Mitch asked.

  “Hi, to you too,” his brother returned. “What are you doing?”

  “Yard work.” His gaze skipped over the fenced yard that separated his property from his neighbors’.