by Lily Everett
Sam shook his head as if dazed. “Oh my God, Andie. How many people are you dragging into this?”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she said, impatience snapping at her heels. “No one has to be dragged. People here care about you, and they care about keeping that horse safe. Once I explained the situation, no one thought twice about helping out.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “I never expected any of this.”
“I know.” He looked so dumbfounded, Andie had to lean up and kiss his scratchy cheek. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
“To what?”
“Being loved.” Andie gave him a smile that came from the bottom of her heart, then hooked her arm through his elbow and started pulling him toward the docks. Doing something bad for a very good reason was turning out to be as satisfying as upholding the letter of the law had ever been. “Come on, we need to get down there.”
“What for?” Sam resisted, setting his weight against her, and Andie sighed. She’d never budge him if he didn’t want to go. “Andie, stop. What’s the plan? I mean, Jo can take Queenie back to Windy Corner, but they’re bound to search the biggest stables on the island.”
“Jo’s not driving the trailer to Windy Corner,” Andie started, but a loud cheer from down the hill distracted her. “Sam, please. We need to get down there and confront those men when they get off the ferry. Everything hinges on it.”
“Andie—”
“Sam.” She reached up to cup his face between her palms and stare into his beautiful, confused brown eyes. “Can you trust me?”
The fact that he didn’t hesitate for even an instant warmed Andie all the way down to the soles of her feet. “I do trust you.”
She rewarded him with a kiss, the brush of their lips settling something in her soul even as the rest of Andie geared up for a fight.
“Come on, then.” She grabbed his hand and ran for the docks. “Let’s give those thugs a big Sanctuary Island welcome.”
*
Sam’s mind was racing faster than his feet, trying to figure out what Andie was doing and how he could talk her out of it. Before he could come up with anything, they were pushing through the crowd of Sanctuary Island residents who’d packed the parking lot by the pier where the ferry had docked.
A warm slap on the back startled Sam. He looked around, but everyone in his vicinity was smiling at him, or nodding solemnly. A tiny, white-haired lady leaning on a cane winked at him.
“What’s going on?” he muttered to Andie out of the corner of his mouth. “Why are they all looking at me like that?”
“I told you, they like you. Now stop flirting with Miss Ruth and look for the lieutenant governor’s men!”
Passengers were already pouring out of the ferry, which had been decked out in streamers and balloons in green and white, Sanctuary High’s school colors. All around them, teenagers and their parents shouted, waved over their visiting family. There were hugs and congratulations, enough noise to scare the flock of gulls who lived on the Summer Harbor boathouse into taking wing, adding their loud shrieks to the pandemonium.
And in the center of it all, Sam spotted three huge, hulking muscle men cutting through the happy townsfolk like sharks through a school of clownfish. People shrank from them as they passed, as if they gave off a palpable air of barely contained violence.
At his side, Andie tensed and her hand went to her belt where she usually wore her Taser. But she wasn’t in uniform—because of him, Sam remembered with a stab of self-hatred—and she dropped her hand to her side.
Sam stepped in front of her, confronting the hired enforcers dead on. “Hello, boys. Looking for someone?”
The tallest one, a Teutonic bruiser with an almost colorless complexion and pale straw-colored hair, narrowed his light gray eyes. “Yeah. Sam Brennan. That you?”
“It is. Who’s asking?”
“Lieutenant Governor Garry Wallace sent us.” When the man smiled, a scar at the corner of his mouth pulled his lips into a snarl. “Come with us now, Mr. Brennan.”
“He’s not going anywhere with you, Mr. Struecher,” Andie said, stepping up to Sam’s side.
The way Struecher’s pale eyes zeroed in on Andie made the hairs on the back of Sam’s neck rise. “And who are you?”
“A friend of Sam’s,” she said, with a casual glance around the crowd that had gathered around this little confrontation. “Sam has a lot of friends on Sanctuary Island, as it happens.”
The pair of guys behind Struecher looked around, seeming surprised at the serious nods, scowls, and crossed arms they saw in the crowd. Sam sympathized with them—he could hardly believe what he was seeing, either. Struecher never took his eyes off Andie, though.
“I wonder,” he said. “Would Mr. Brennan have so many friends if they knew he’d stolen a horse from the lieutenant governor’s own stables?”
“They might ask to see proof,” said a querulous old voice from out of the crowd. “Rather than taking some muscle-bound hooligan’s word for it.”
Andie sucked in a breath beside him, and when Sam saw who’d spoken, he understood why. Dabney Leeds hobbled to the front of the crowd, rapping people’s legs with his cane if they didn’t get out of his way fast enough. Trailing behind him on a plaid leather leash was a white bulldog wearing a green and white dog-size varsity letterman’s jacket and a long-suffering expression.
“Now, what’s this all about, Sheriff?” Dabney asked, directing the question to Andie.
To her credit, she never missed a beat. With a cool tilt of her chin in the direction of Struecher and his guys, she said, “These gentlemen believe they have the right to come onto our island and remove someone without a warrant or any proof of wrongdoing. Unless—I’m sorry.” Andie glanced back at Struecher. “Do you have a warrant?”
The furious way he clenched his jaw was answer enough. “Two months ago, Queen’s Ransom, a very valuable Thoroughbred mare, disappeared from the lieutenant governor’s barn. Our investigation shows that Sam Brennan arrived on this island with a mare two months ago. It’s not proof, but here is Brennan. Where is the horse? One look at it will prove that it’s the lieutenant governor’s property.”
Sam tensed. Struecher kept calling Queenie “it,” as if she was an inanimate object. Out of sight of the thugs, Andie put a warning hand on the fist he didn’t remember clenching.
“I have no idea where the lieutenant governor’s horse is,” Sam was able to say with complete honesty, meeting Struecher’s assessing stare without flinching.
“Of course, he admits nothing,” one of the thugs sneered, “but someone on this island must have witnessed his arrival.”
“Hmmm,” said Miss Ruth, the woman who’d made eyes at Sam earlier. “I don’t remember a horse, and I definitely remember when Sam arrived. A woman takes note of a man like that.”
“I’m not a woman,” said a male voice behind Sam. “But I’m pretty observant. I think I’d know if a man who’s been living in my house for two months were a criminal.”
Sam turned in time to see his cousin Penny’s rich, handsome husband step forward to stand at his back in a blatant show of support. Sam gave Dylan Harrington a short nod, more touched than he knew how to express. Gratitude dried his throat—not only for the support, but for the fact that Dylan appeared to be alone. Which meant he’d accomplished the impossible and convinced Penny to stay home and out of trouble, for once.
“What about the ferry captain? He will be our proof.” Struecher was going to grind his molars to dust if he kept clamping his jaw like that.
“Well, bring him out,” Dabney Leeds demanded irritably. “Let’s get this business over with, we have a graduation to celebrate.”
Sam’s heart sped up as the crowd parted to let the grizzled old captain through. Sam remembered him from the day he’d arrived, mostly because he was wearing the same neon-green bowling jersey in some shiny material that caught the light. His name, Buddy, was stitched over the right b
reast in hot-pink thread. “Yeah?”
“Do you have records of this man’s arrival on Sanctuary Island two months ago?” Andie asked in her best official business voice.
Buddy spat a thoughtful stream of tobacco juice into the empty soda can he held. “Nope.”
“No records?” Struecher insisted. “That’s ridiculous. You must have a ship’s manifesto of some kind, for insurance purposes. I demand that you produce it immediately.”
“Can’t.”
Sam had to admire Buddy’s economy with words. A strange sensation was gathering under his breastbone, hot and buoyant as if he’d swallowed a helium balloon. It took a minute, but he finally recognized it as hope.
Somehow, Andie seemed to have gotten the entire town in on her crazy scheme. He couldn’t fathom how such a feat was even possible.
“Don’t keep the logs for longer than a couple weeks,” Buddy was explaining in a bored tone. “Ain’t any kind of point to it.”
“The point,” Struecher ground out, “is that the lieutenant governor’s stolen horse is on this island somewhere, and I intend to find it.”
“Gosh,” piped up a woman wearing a trim shirtwaist dress covered in polka dots, with her hair in sleek waves like she was on her way to a sock hop. “That sounds an awful lot like you want to conduct an illegal search of private property. Can they do that, Sheriff?”
“No, Ivy, I’m afraid not,” Andie replied calmly, hooking her thumbs in her belt and staring at Struecher and his goons, implacable as the dawn. “If these men want to search any part of Sanctuary Island, they’re going to need a proper warrant.”
“Which I’m afraid may be difficult to acquire,” Dabney Leeds announced with visible satisfaction. “Since everyone on this island is prepared to swear that when Sam Brennan arrived on that ferry two months ago, he was alone.”
Sam glanced around the group of townsfolk. Lots of them were familiar faces—the woman who owned the hardware store where he’d picked up leather polish, the parents of Sam’s favorite Windy Corner Therapeutic Riding client, Rachel, a ten-year-old girl with Down Syndrome … but there were plenty of people he’d never met or spoken to. Yet here they were, standing shoulder to shoulder in solidarity to protect a man they barely knew and a horse they were denying even existed.
It was like nothing Sam had ever experienced. He could only imagine that this was what having a family felt like.
“I may have been alone when I got here,” he said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “but I’m not alone anymore. So go on back to the lieutenant governor and tell him he’s got the wrong idea about me.”
Struecher opened his mouth to reply, but when he hesitated, Andie said softly, “Go on, Kurt. You did your best. There’s nothing here for you, and if the lieutenant governor is smart, he’ll cut his losses and move on.”
“Yes,” Dabney Leeds agreed, banging his cane on the ground. “Tell Garry from me that this is a fight he can’t win. Much like his next election will be, without my contribution to his coffers. I’m not interested in giving money to animal abusers. I’d rather support those who fight for the cause of protecting animals. That makes Sam Brennan a hero in my book, not a criminal.”
Struecher glanced from Leeds to Andie, scanning the determined faces of the gathered townspeople before landing on Sam again. His scarred mouth twitched, as if he was fighting a smile. “I’ll convey your message to my employer. It’s possible this business has become more trouble than it’s worth to him.”
With a sharp jerk of his head, he sent his silent pair of back-up goons hulking off toward the ferry. Sam started to let go of the breath he’d been holding, almost unable to believe everything that had happened in the last few minutes, but then Kurt Struecher turned back one last time.
“Good-bye, Mr. Brennan,” he said, holding out his huge, battle-hardened hand. “It’s rare, you know. This kind of loyalty. I hope you appreciate it.”
“Believe me,” Sam replied, shaking the man’s hand with a surreal feeling of watching the whole scene from outside his body, “I do.”
Struecher nodded as if satisfied before shaking Andie’s hand too. “If you are ever in need of work,” he told her, passing her a white card embossed with his name and number, “please call me.”
“Excuse me,” Dabney Leeds interrupted imperiously. “But Sheriff Shepard already has a job.”
Trust Leeds to see which way the political wind was blowing and throw his weight behind the winner. Dabney Leeds never backed a loser.
Andie shrugged at Struecher. “Guess I’m unavailable for now. Thanks for the thought, though.” And she pocketed the card, grinning when Leeds harrumphed in annoyance.
Struecher’s gaze turned to the top of the hill leading up to the town square, the road bordered with maritime pines and the brilliant blue sky stretching overhead. “This is a nice place, your Sanctuary Island.”
And with that, he turned on his heel with military precision and marched back to the ferry to join his men. Buddy spat another stream of tobacco juice and ambled after them to raise the gangplank and ready the ferry for the return trip to the mainland.
Sam watched them go, still in a daze, until Andie threw her arms around him.
“We did it,” she said into his ear. “They’re gone. You and Queenie are safe.”
“Thank you,” Sam said, just for her. Then, more loudly, “Thank you, everyone. This town is amazing. There’s no place like it. I’ve never had a home, not really—but I can’t imagine any place better to put down roots and start a new life than Sanctuary Island.”
All around them, people cheered and clapped. Dylan shook him by the shoulder, and Miss Ruth tugged him away from Andie and pulled him down for a loud, smacking kiss right on the mouth. Lightheaded from the adrenaline crash, Sam reeled from well-wisher to well-wisher as it seemed like every person on the island wanted to hug and congratulate him.
“But how did you all even know what was going down?” Sam finally managed to ask Andie.
“I had Wyatt Hawkins send out one of his special bulletins,” Andie answered. “We’ve really got to get you on the island email loop.”
“And everyone read it,” Sam said, still trying to piece it together. “And somehow, you got every person in town to agree to the same story?”
“This is Sanctuary Island, boy,” Dabney Leeds declared, stooping creakily to pet his panting bulldog. “The answer is in the name. Since the town was first founded, this island has been a sanctuary for those with no place else to go—especially wild horses. We don’t hold with cruelty to animals on this island. No sir.”
“But still,” Sam shook his head. “The lengths you all went to.”
“Mmm,” Andie agreed, shooting Leeds an arch look. “Including reinstating me as Sheriff on the spot. Does this mean you’re withdrawing your grandson from the election?”
“Nash is an amazing young man,” Leeds said, waving away the entire situation as if he hadn’t plotted against Andie’s campaign for weeks. “He’ll find some other use for his many talents here on Sanctuary Island. We already have a sheriff.”
Andie broke into a huge smile, and Sam couldn’t resist the urge to sweep her up and twirl her around. Everything in him wanted to let go, to believe in this perfect happy ending, but he’d lived too many years one step ahead of disaster. It was tough not to look over his shoulder to see what was coming for him.
Letting Andie’s toes touch the ground, Sam stared down into her relaxed, jubilant face. “They could still come back,” he said, fear and worry like a barbed-wire cage around his heart. “If they get a warrant to search Jo’s barn, they’ll find her.”
“No, they won’t. Come on, let me show you.” Andie stepped backwards, her eyes bright with excitement. She kept Sam’s hand clasped in hers, and he followed her.
After this, Sam knew he would follow her anywhere.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“This is the road down to Heartbreak Cove,” Sam said, staring out the SUV’s winds
hield.
“Where you found Lucky.” Andie steered carefully down the double-rutted, unpaved lane. The wax myrtles and groundsels were taking over again, slowly growing over the tracks made by vehicles. If she didn’t find another couple of teenagers necking out here so she could assign them the community service of clearing back the plant life, pretty soon this lane would be impassable.
Maybe that was a good thing, she decided as the SUV rolled to a stop next to the Windy Corner horse trailer. This place is meant to be wild and free. Maybe we should give it back to the wilderness.
“What are we…”?
Sam’s voice died out as he gazed out over the waving sea of cordgrass and spotted the horse trailer parked by the willow tree. “Andie. We’re going to turn her loose.”
“Not just her,” Andie said, cutting the engine and opening her door.
Sam met her at the back of the SUV, beside the horse trailer’s open back doors. He peered into it, seeming unsurprised to find Queenie still tied up inside. But next to her, nuzzling affectionately at Queenie’s neck, was a gray-dappled wild colt.
“Jo drove the trailer back to Windy Corner where she picked up Lucky, and then I asked her to drop the horses off here. Taylor and Matt brought Caitlin along with them to let her say good-bye to Queenie, and then they drove Jo home.” Andie was aware she was babbling, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “So far, none of them have done anything they’d need to feel guilty about, and I wanted to keep it that way.”
“You thought of everything.” Sam’s voice was neutral, his expression unreadable in profile as he studied the two horses he’d worked so hard to rehabilitate.
Andie noticed she was twisting her hands in her white cotton shirttails and tried to cut it out. “Well, the turning loose thing was Jo’s idea, actually. She said you’d done it before, when you weren’t able to get an abused horse to the point of trusting humans again.”
