Falling for the Lawman

by Ruth Logan Herne

  He and Marty had clashed on the family farm more than once. Better to let his father help Piper while he worked at home. Ripping out over two hundred feet of bad wood should keep his mind from wandering. Adding four tiny puppies to the mix should ensure it.

  Chapter Five

  “Tractor down. Marty helping. Can u milk alone?”

  Piper glared at the text as she rolled to a stop alongside the near barn later that week.

  Fields of what should be lush thigh-high corn looked stressed. The corn’s struggle reflected Piper’s emotions. She parked the truck by the far barn, hopped out and headed for the milking shed.

  “Piper.”

  Colin’s voice caught her attention. He moved her way purposefully, and Piper read his body language. He wasn’t looking for a fight, as Chas often did, but he wanted to press home a point. The set of his shoulders and chin made that clear, even from a distance. “What’s up?”

  “We’ve had another offer on the farm.”

  His words sent a roll of anger snowballing through her. “We’ve?”

  He looked to the right, indicating the dairy store. “A developer approached me and Chas.”

  Because you’re the weak link, and the developer specializes in ferreting information about each family.

  Unfortunately, the developer’s strategy had worked on other farm families already. “You explained that the farm isn’t for sale, right?”

  “We asked them to name a price.”

  Piper understood the inflated cost of housing and land in their area. The lakeside setting offered a host of possibilities. Docks, boat slips, swimming areas, the list went on and on. But when Colin named the price they’d offered, she had to take a moment to regroup.

  “That’s crazy talk.”

  “They said we can keep the house and the barn,” her brother countered. “Plus the five acres surrounding it. So you and Lucia could buy us out and still live there pretty cheap.”

  Buy them out of her home?

  Buy them out of the place she’d worked day and night to save while they complained about every little thing, two college-educated guys who rarely looked for work off the farm and did precious little to help on the farm?

  The anger grew.

  “You’ve got it all figured out.” She faced him, forcing him to meet her gaze. “You and Chas take your cut of the family legacy while Lucia and I are left with a house and barns but no farm. What exactly are we supposed to do with that, Colin?”

  “I—”

  “I’ll tell you what you can do with your developer’s offer.” She stepped closer, undeterred by the size difference and her brother’s take-charge attitude. “Tell them McKinney Farm isn’t for sale. Not now. Not ever. And then go look for a job, like normal people do.”

  “Kiera’s pregnant.”

  He didn’t offer the news like a proud, young father. He dropped the words like a man doomed, as if the worst-case scenario had just fallen on him.

  “Doesn’t that make you happy?” Piper didn’t try to hide the disbelief in her tone. A baby should be cause to sing praise. Not a punishment.

  “She’ll have to take time off to have the baby.” Colin’s expression said the very idea of Kiera using time to give birth rocked the world as he knew it, and that only aggravated Piper more. “And it’s not all covered by insurance.”

  Piper took a deep, slow breath, wondering how she and her brothers could possibly be related. Then she remembered how her mother shrugged off her responsibilities in a callous disregard for her family.

  Obviously Piper took after her father, a land-lover, a person of industry. Ambitious and strong. Faithful to a fault.

  The boys were more like their mother. Cool. Dismissive. Looking for the easy way out. Well, there was no easy way out of this. She wasn’t about to step back and let them have their way. She and Lucia had stood strong so far. They’d do it again. Without Rainey the vote was tied, 2-2. Unless the farm went bankrupt and they were forced to sell, Piper and Lucia would hang tight.

  “Vince and Linda will sell their place.” Colin folded his arms, his tone tough. “You’ll lose nearly eighty productive acres of rental land. You can’t run a dairy operation with no feed. No room for cash crops. No grain in the silos. So maybe you better think about this, Piper. You talk about me getting a job.” He sent her work clothes a look of disgust. “Maybe you should get off the farm, see the world from someplace other than the seat of a tractor and get a life. At least I don’t use the farm as a place to hide.”

  He strode away, not waiting for a response, and that was all right, because Piper couldn’t trust herself to speak just then.

  She moved into the barn, ready to smack the first thing that got in her way. Unfortunately for Zach, it was him.

  “Hey.” He dodged the backswing of the side door into the milking parlor and threw his hands up in the air. “Whoever you’re mad at, remember—I didn’t do it.”

  His presence surprised her. How did he know she’d be milking the cows alone?

  He tapped his pocket. “Dad texted me. Said they were in a jam up the road.”

  Quick tears made her eyes smart. Extra help had become nonexistent once she’d lost her father, so this overture loosened a hard knot in her heart. “Give me five minutes.”

  “Or what?” He watched her, and the look on his face was caring. Maybe even tender.

  It said he’d do whatever she asked, and that made the tears of anger she was fighting almost overflow. But not quite. “Or I’ll lash out irrationally and you’ll be the target for no other reason than geographical logistics.”

  His quick smile said he got it. “Being in the wrong place at the wrong time?”

  “Yes.” She scrubbed up, pulled on a pair of disposable gloves and moved forward. “Five minutes gives me time to think and pray. That way, no one gets hurt.”

  “I’m okay with that.” He put one hand to her arm as she stepped toward the milking area, a hand that felt warm and strong and good. “But say the word, and I’ll deck whoever made you mad.”

  His pledge of protection dissolved some of her angst. She sent him a quick smile of thanks and moved forward.

  Colin had gone for the jugular, because he knew the score. Without land to grow crops, the farm would fail. The boys would win. And her family heritage would be lost forever. And there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  * * *

  Zach read Piper’s face as she banged through the side door. There was anger. Aggravation.

  A part of him longed to soothe the angst away. Another part recognized the frustration of farming in her expression. He’d seen the same emotions on his father’s face, countless times. For hardworking people, that lack of control of things such as weather and prices could spell the difference between success and failure.

  Zach liked stability. Set hours. Money in the bank. A sure paycheck, deposited regularly. And he’d been bent over the old deck for nearly two days, sawing, prying, digging out stubborn nails and stripped screws. Every muscle in his body ached, but he’d come straight over when Marty texted him, because milking this many cows was a two-man job.

  He moved quietly as they worked, the low sounds of a satisfied herd calming the moment. He patted a dark red flank as he released his first group of twelve out to the feed deck. “Recessive genes. Did you use a Canadian bull for that?”

  “Mutant-R, actually.” Piper didn’t turn his way, but she sounded more at ease. Exactly what he was hoping for. “But once we threw a bull with the mutation, I kept him and worked on developing a line of red-and-whites. And you’re talking.”

  He smiled as the first group of cows walked past him, their accustomed routine making the job of handling huge animals pretty simple. “I was hoping enough time had passed.”

  She made a face, ass
essing, then shrugged. “I suppose it has. I can always count on the girls―” she looked at the retreating cows “―to calm me down. They’re so docile. Placid. Utterly content.”

  “Utterly content?” He made a face that made her laugh. “Please tell me you didn’t just say that.”

  “Only another farm kid would recognize it,” she quipped back. She moved to let the next group into the parlor as Zach closed the far gate. The cows filed in, each one moving to its place.

  “I’ve always wondered.” Zach indicated the row of bovines with a quizzical look. “Does this make them smart or stupid? To come in, day after day, knowing their place, going to it, walking step by step through life without looking right or left most of the time?”

  “They’re content.” She moved down the row, making sure each udder was washed before drying the tender skin and attaching the vacuum milking suction cups. “Being satisfied with where you are isn’t a bad thing.” She gazed at him from her spot at the end of the milking channel. “Not everyone wants to be higher, faster, stronger. Richer.”

  “So it’s a money thing that broadsided you.”

  “I knew you were groping for answers,” she told him as she finished her row and stepped across the channel to work on his. “My brothers were offered a crazy amount for this farm. And the oldest couldn’t wait to greet me with the news, let me know that Lucia and I are persona non grata.”

  Zach had sold their family farm for a seven-figure amount two years ago, so he understood the concept of rising land values. Piper’s farm, with hundreds of feet of lake frontage below the curving, lakeshore road that ran through her property?

  Astronomical.

  As a non-farmer, he empathized with Piper’s brother. However, if Zach’s brother or sister had wanted to run the farm, he’d have done whatever he could to help them achieve that goal. Not stand in the way of their progress. “He hates farming.”

  “More like work-phobic.”

  Zach shot her a look of understanding. He’d known many a lazy soul in his time on the planet, and in his line of work it wasn’t a big deal. Lazy cops got weeded out or passed over for promotions and eventually left the force.

  But there was no place for laziness on a farm. Farms often had side businesses to balance the bad times. Piper’s dairy store was a perfect example of that. “But one of them works in the dairy store, right? Processing the milk?”

  “Only because they want to keep an eye on me. Make sure I don’t ruin their inheritance with my ineptitude.”

  A thrum of anger stretched Zach’s shoulders wider. Tighter. “They don’t trust you?”

  “They don’t trust anyone. Partially with good reason.” She shrugged, but said no more. “Mostly because they think if they can get their hands on their portion of this farm in cold, hard cash—”

  Zach watched as she tried to explain their selfishness away, and realized it took a rare person to step back and look at the big picture when faced with this much negativity.

  “—their lives can begin anew.”

  “With no regard to your life. Or the family farm.”

  “In their estimation, I have no life.” She worked down her row of cows as she talked, her ponytail bobbing as she moved from cow to cow. “But they’re wrong. I wouldn’t trade my life for anything in the world. I love what I do.”

  “It shows.”

  She flashed him a smile, then made a face at him. “Your cows are really wishing they could get to food. My side is quietly making fun of yours.”

  He couldn’t deny that she moved through the milking parlor like the expert she was. His father had been the same way. “Would expanding your herd help the financial side of things?”

  She considered his question as her group filed out. “Yes, if I had more help. No, if it means I sleep less. Right now, sleep and family life are nonexistent. And that’s the downside of my current situation.”

  “No time with the twins.”

  “Exactly.” She waited to turn on the automatic floor washer until his group had left the area. “I feel guilty every time I see a notice for an activity I can’t take the girls to. I don’t want to deprive them of learning opportunities, but there’s never enough time or money. They’re starting school this fall. It will be the first time they’ve ever been separated, and I’m not sure who’s more worried about that. Them or me.”

  “Kids are survivors.”

  “I know.” Something in her tone told Zach she got that part. Maybe too well. “But sometimes they should just get to be kids, right?”

  He moved to open the gate for the next group of cows just as Marty entered the milking parlor from the side door. He spotted Zach and stopped, surprised. “You were able to help.”

  “I was ready for a break from dry rot. And I’d just fed the pups.”

  “How are they doing?” Piper asked. “They’re okay?”

  “Thriving.” Marty’s expression showed pride. “I used to tease my wife about taking care of those baby dogs, how she’d pamper them. Right now I’m glad I paid attention.”

  “Me, too.” Piper’s smile inspired Marty’s in return, and for the first time since being released from the hospital, Marty seemed happy. More content. Having the pups on hand, and helping Piper on her farm, well...the two factors seemed to be helping Marty get back to his old self.

  “I’m going to have a look at that tractor.” He thrust his hands into his pockets. “Now don’t tell me no, young lady, because I’ve been itching to get my hands on those old-style mechanics. That John Deere might have a few years under its belt, but it’s a workhorse engine and I plan on making it purr like a kitten before I’m through. Then I’m taking a crack at the New Holland rig.”

  “Marty, you don’t have to do that,” she protested, but Zach wasn’t blind to the glimmer of hope in her eye.

  “Not have to. Want to. And then I’m going to have a look at your generators. If we get a storm and lose power, that’s a lot of milk to dump. And make sure your partner over there―” he pointed Zach’s way as he headed out “―strips that milk properly. I spent a lot of years checking up on him.”

  A childish part of Zach wanted to offer a sharp comeback, but when his father shot him a teasing look, he realized the older Harrison was just being funny.

  Why had he forgotten his father’s sense of humor? When had he made the firm separation from father and farmer in his head?

  “I think he does a great job.” Piper aimed a smile Zach’s way, a warm look that offered total appreciation for his presence. And the way her eyes met his?

  That made milking nearly twelve dozen cows way more fun than it had ever been at home. That would give him something to think about as he started laying new lumber for his deck.

  * * *

  “There she is!”

  “Ask her! Ask her!”

  “We’ve been spotted,” Zach told Piper as they exited the milking parlor later than afternoon. “But don’t worry, I’ve got your back,” he whispered in her ear as Dorrie and Sonya raced toward them. “It’s two on two. I think we can take ’em.”

  The feel of his breath on her skin pulled her closer. But closer wasn’t an option, so she stepped away and bent to the girls’ level. “What’s up?”

  “The carnival!”

  “Coming here!”

  “This week!”

  “And a parade!”

  The twins’ revelations proclaimed their excitement. Piper looked from one to the other, wondering how to tell them no. The parade was free, therefore affordable. The fireman’s carnival with rides, games, food, all for a good cause? That was a no-go. If she counteroffered them the Friday night parade, maybe they wouldn’t realize what they were missing.

  “I’ve been waiting to go on that big wheel all my life,” Dorrie exclaimed.

  “A
nd I want to pick ducks,” Sonya added. “Like, maybe, five of them.”

  “And eat popcorn,” Dorrie added.

  “And drink pop.” Sonya’s eyes rounded at the idea. “With a bendy straw.”

  Sipping pop from a bendable straw was clearly big-league in five-year-old circles, but they’d have to settle for chocolate milk here on the farm. That wasn’t such a bad thing, was it?

  “When would you like to go?”

  Zach’s words pulled Piper’s attention his way. He put a hand to her shoulder, a palm that felt rugged, warm, sweet and strong, then swept a look from the twins to her. “Saturday afternoon? Because Friday night after the parade will be really crowded.”

  “Um, I—”

  “Sure you can.” He nixed any rebuttal she might have offered by giving the near barn a quick glance. “Dad will gladly sub for whatever you’d like to accomplish on Saturday. You said you’d like the girls to be able to do more things, and I’m paying, so your excuses just ran dry.”

  “But—” He met her eyes with a take-charge look. His words hit home. Was she looking for reasons to be busy? Afraid to go out and face the world as her brother had intimated?

  Dorrie and Sonya tugged her hands, breathless. Hopeful. Wide-eyed. “Yes. We’ll do it. Saturday afternoon. But you don’t have to pay,” she scolded as she stood up. The twins danced around them, then raced for the house, shouting their news. “I can squeak money out of the grocery budget.”

  “My treat. End of discussion. You’ve fed us twice this past week. Consider it payback.”

  “Feeding you is the least we can do for all the free labor your father has given us. I’ll cover Saturday’s costs.” Piper tried to stand her ground, but couldn’t. Zach had folded his arms and braced his feet slightly apart in a cop stance, strong and unbending. She hated that his take-charge attitude appealed to her, that his quiet, funny personality made him seem approachable. She’d seen enough of police to know that some cops wore a facade the way she wore barn boots.