The Cowboy Lawman (6 page)

“He helped me with my new horse. We named her Sweet Lady. Kind of a long name, but he thought it had to be Sweet Lady, not just Lady. Any horse could be Lady.”

Her voice held a smile as she spoke of her day with his son. He nodded and followed her into the kitchen. Lights blazed, music played, the volume low, and a candle burning on the counter smelled like cinnamon apples. His stomach growled and Mia laughed.

“Leftover fried chicken from Vera’s.” She took the leftovers out of the fridge, easing them onto the counter with her left hand, using her right to steady the container. “How’s your mom doing today?”

“Has he worn you out already?” He moved around her in the kitchen, getting a glass out of the drainer next to the sink and a paper plate from the stack.

“Use real plates. And no, he hasn’t worn me out. I love having him here. It’s kind of hard to go from ninety to nothing the way I’ve had to do. I’d like to keep watching him, as long as you need me to.”

“Thanks.” He turned and she was behind him. A tomboy. She’d always been a tomboy. She’d never been the girl out chasing boys. She’d been the girl in shorts, T-shirts and boots hanging out at the arena, or hauling her horse to rodeos where she barrel-raced.

Tonight she looked different. Tonight she had a softer look in her eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d call her timid. That was the last word a man would ever use to describe Mia. If he said it out loud she’d take him down, even with one arm in a sling.

He’d had a long day. He’d seen too much, felt too much. And Mia was a friend. She’d always been a friend. And it had been a long time since he’d had someone to talk to at the end of a long day.

“Slade, are you okay?” She stepped a little closer and then her hand was on his. He lifted her hand, bringing her palm to his lips.

“Mia.” He kissed her hand. It was the wrong thing to do. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop.

He pulled her to him and held her tight because he needed her close. He needed someone to hold on to, just for a minute. Her head lowered to his shoulder, resting there for a few seconds.

When she looked up, he kissed her.

He drank her in, needing a moment with her in his arms. She kissed him back. Her lips tasted like sweet tea and her skin smelled like lavender. He moved his hand to her waist, holding her close as his lips stilled on hers and he heard her whisper. She shook her head and he knew he’d stepped across a line that had always been between them.

“Slade,” she whispered again and then she pulled herself out of his arms, away from him.

Common sense, reason and guilt hit him hard as he watched her back up to the counter, her fingers on her lips, her eyes wide. He brushed a hand across the top of his head and took a deep breath, exhaling with a whistle.

“Mia, I’m sorry.” What kind of excuse could he give her? A long day? He’d had a long, difficult day? He had days when he was lonely, even surrounded by people?

If he said any of those things, he would hurt her worse than he already had. But for a moment, everything had felt right. He couldn’t tell her that, either.

The few dates he’d been on in the past year hadn’t been much to talk about. No one had moved him to make a second date.

No one had made him feel this guilty. He let the thought settle. Why did he feel guilty? Because kissing Mia had been different? Or because Mia had been Vicki’s best friend?

Mia raised her hand, stopping him from making excuses and she didn’t talk. Instead she turned to fix him a plate. He didn’t speak, either, because she obviously didn’t want him to say anything else. When she turned back around she held out a plate with a napkin over it.

“Start it at two minutes in the microwave. I’m going out to check on Sweet Lady.”

“Mia...”

“No, Slade. I don’t want you to say anything that will make this more complicated. I need to think, and so do you.”

“I know.”

She stepped close again. “Do
not
say you’re sorry, though. Because I don’t know what
sorry
means right now.”

With that she walked out the back door and into the night. He watched her go. He waited until the light came on in the barn and he could see her there with the mare. Only then did he take the plate she’d fixed him and heated it in the microwave. The windows were open and he could hear if anything went wrong in the barn.

He guessed something had already gone pretty wrong. How did he fix what they’d done? How did they go back to being friends? Did he even want to?

* * *

Slade and Caleb were gone when Mia came in from the barn. Slade had come out to tell her they were leaving and to ask if she was coming in. She’d told him she’d be in shortly. She watched his car drive down the road and she’d gone inside, locking the doors behind her.

She was sorry they’d left, sorry that her house no longer echoed with little-boy laughter, the sound of boots on hardwood floors or the crash of toy trucks. She stood in her kitchen and remembered a kiss.

If she closed her eyes, she could relive the moment. She could still smell Slade’s cologne, the maleness of him. She could hear the way he’d whispered her name.

And she could feel the panic rise up as she realized what she’d done. It had been her fault. She’d taken the first step. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

How much could she complicate her life? She’d just found another way, by kissing Slade. She’d offered to watch his son. She’d fixed him dinner. She’d kissed him. She tried to put it in perspective. She’d lost her job, her partner, the use of her right arm. Five years ago she’d lost her best friend, the one she’d always turned to when things went wrong.

Tonight Slade had just been a replacement, a stand-in for all that she’d lost. That had to be it. It made sense.

She poured herself a glass of tea and headed for the living room, still not believing the lies she’d just told herself. She wouldn’t let herself examine it more. Not tonight, when she still felt emotionally bruised.

What she needed to do was work. She pulled out her computer and saw the box of photos she’d dug out of the closet, the lid still firmly in place. Pictures of her childhood. Pictures of Vicki. She set the box on the table but she didn’t open it. Not tonight when she felt more than bruised—she felt guilty.

What she needed to do was focus on work. Work would keep her from thinking about other things. She had written a list while Caleb slept. Why would someone break into her house? What had gone wrong the day that Butch got shot? Who could have been the leak? She’d written down ideas and names. None of it made sense. Nolan had yelled something about the missing money. What money?

Butch wasn’t dirty. She wouldn’t let herself believe he had taken money. She knew that there were whispers in their unit, people talking, but she knew Butch. She knew how he felt about drug dealers.

Something had happened—she just didn’t know what. She leaned back with her computer on her lap, replaying that day. Nolan had yelled about the money. She and Butch had been so close to tying everything up and putting that man away for years. Nolan’s henchman, Ted, had come out of nowhere and yelled that they were cops and then he’d shot Butch. She’d shot Ted as he’d aimed at her. Nolan hadn’t been armed and she’d held him until backup arrived.

She had it all written down, but maybe that was her mistake. What if someone broke in again and saw that she was working on the case? She took the papers to the kitchen and found a lighter. One by one she let them burn, holding them above the sink and then she sprayed water, washing it all down the drain.

Someone was dirty, but it wasn’t Butch. She needed sleep, because it was all starting to run together and none of it made sense.

She checked to make sure all the doors were locked and carried her computer to her bedroom. Now to continue her search for Breezy. She’d found a website where she could post that she was looking for her sister. The website reunited separated siblings.

Mia pulled back the blankets and crawled into bed.

“Okay, God, this is it. I can’t let this go. There has to be a reason for that. Help me find her.”

She looked around the quiet room with the overstuffed chair in the corner, the braided rugs on the floor and the wooden miniblinds closed tight. She knew that no one had heard her, other than God. No one had seen a lonely woman sitting in her bedroom talking to God.

After typing a message on a website to a sister she hadn’t seen in about twenty years, Mia closed her computer. She needed to get some sleep. The lack of sleep could explain a lot of things.

Tomorrow would be a better day. She pushed the computer aside and sat propped against the pillows, staring at the black screen of the TV. She knew she wouldn’t sleep. She hadn’t slept in weeks. The pain, the dreams, reliving the moment in that dingy apartment, it all combined to keep her awake.

Tonight, if she did fall asleep, she feared her dreams would be as jumbled as her thoughts. She would dream of Butch, no doubt, the agony on his face as she held him, screaming for him to hold on. But she knew she would dream about Slade as well, about being in his arms and then feeling guilty.

Chapter Six

S
lade pounded on the front door of Mia’s house. It was eight o’clock in the morning. She never slept this late. She wasn’t in the barn—he’d already checked. Her car was in the garage and she wasn’t answering her phone.

“Where is she, Dad?”

“I’m not sure, Caleb.” But he was sure of one thing. Mia wouldn’t forget she was watching his son.

He pounded on the door again. He tried the knob again, just in case it wasn’t locked, in case he’d been mistaken. He looked down at his son.

“Stand back, Cay.”

“Got it, Dad. You want me to call 911?” He held up his emergency cell phone that he’d taken out of his bag.

Slade took a moment to grin. “No, I think I’ve got this. I’m a cop, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” Caleb backed up.

Slade took a good look at the door and slid a credit card out of his wallet. “I don’t think I’ll even have to break the door down.”

He eased the card into the door that had probably been on the house for fifty years or longer and jiggled the handle. It worked and he made a mental note to get her locks changed. He pushed the door open and pointed for his son to stay put. Caleb frowned, but he’d stay where he was told.

Slade eased into the house. The urge to rush simmered and he walked quietly down the hall, checking each room. And then he got to her bedroom. The door was closed but not latched. He pushed it open, hand on his weapon.

“Mia?”

A lump on the bed moved, then bolted straight up, long hair cascading in all directions, covering her face. She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn the previous evening. Her computer was open on the bed next to her.

“What in the world are you doing in my house?”

He raised both hands in surrender, in case she was half asleep and had a gun hidden somewhere. “Checking on you. Obviously, you’re fine. But I’ve been outside for thirty minutes. I’ve pounded on doors. I’ve checked your horse and called your phone. I didn’t know I had Sleeping Beauty on my hands.”

She reached for the cell phone on the side of the bed.

“Oh, Slade, I’m sorry. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

From the dark circles under her eyes, that was an understatement.

“When was the last time you slept, Mia?”

“Not open for discussion. Let me get cleaned up and I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

“Thanks.

First he let Caleb know that it was safe to come in. Then he headed for the kitchen and the cup of tea he’d promised to make. His phone rang. He answered and let the dispatcher know that he’d found Mia and he’d be hitting the road in fifteen minutes.

Mia walked through the door of the kitchen, a shy look on her face. He turned back to the hot water and the bag of tea—a lot easier to deal with than her.

“Mia, have you talked to anyone?”

“Talked? I talk all the time.”

He held the cup of tea out to her. “You know what I mean. You need to sleep. You need to come to terms with this. It helps to talk.”

“To a shrink. Just say it, Slade. Don’t beat around the bush. You don’t mean talk to you or Granny Myrna.” She glanced at the clock and groaned. “She’s going to be here in five minutes.”

“You’re babysitting Cay and she’s babysitting you?” He grinned a little and she ignored it. He’d always been pretty convinced of his charm. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“She’s helping me wash my hair.” She turned a little pink at the admission.

“Mia, I’ll go with you.”

“To wash my hair?” She sipped the tea and reached in the cabinet for cookies. “Breakfast?”

“No, thanks, we ate at Vera’s. That reminds me, there are biscuits and gravy in the car for you. Thirty minutes old but you can heat them up.”

“I’d love biscuits and gravy.”

“And a ride to Tulsa. I’m off tomorrow.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“In Tulsa? How convenient is that? Call your department and make an appointment to see the shrink.”

“The only thing really boggling my mind right now that I might need counseling for is you. Why are you suddenly so involved in my life? Why can’t you back off a little and let me have room to breathe?”

“Because we’re friends.”

She grimaced as she adjusted the sling around her neck. “I want this thing gone.”

“And me?”

“Yes, I want you gone, too. But you make a decent cup of tea, you bring breakfast and you let Caleb play with me. I guess I’ll figure out the rest.”

“What time do we leave tomorrow?”

“Eight. Were you going to get those biscuits and gravy for me?”

“Yeah.”

When he walked into the living room he stopped cold. Caleb looked up from the box he held on his lap. He had pictures spread out on the sofa and one in his hand.

“This is my mom, isn’t it?”

* * *

Mia walked up behind Slade as Caleb asked the question, his blue eyes darting from the picture to Slade and then to Mia. Mia started to take the box and the pictures, but Caleb held them tight. Maybe this moment had to happen, for the child and for the father.

Hadn’t he seen pictures of Vicki? Didn’t Slade tell him the stories? She looked at Slade, waiting for him to unfreeze. He let out a long breath and then nodded.

“Yeah, buddy, that’s your mom.”

“Mia has lots of pictures and we just have that one on the dresser.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Mia sat down next to Caleb, sinking into the soft sofa, the pictures next to her moved and she reached for them. She picked one up and smiled.

“Caleb, this is your mom in high school. She was beautiful, wasn’t she? And you look a lot like her.”

The boy’s nose wrinkled at that. “I’m not beautiful—I’m a boy.”

Mia laughed. “You’re right. Boys are handsome. And you are definitely handsome. But you have her hair, her eyes.”

Caleb scooted close and looked at the picture. “Why was she dressed like that? All fancy and stuff.”

“Your mom loved pretty clothes. I think this was a picture taken at a school dance. I think your dad was there with her. They were always together.”

Mia’s heart ached at the memories unfolding. She looked at Slade, saw the heartbreak in his eyes, saw it in the firm line of his usually smiling mouth. She smiled, wishing a smile could make this all better, make it hurt less. Why hadn’t he shown Caleb pictures of Vicki?

“My grandma Bonnie says my mom was her princess.”

Mia smiled, remembering Vicki’s mom calling her that. Vicki’s parents had moved to Arizona for Bill’s lungs, but she knew they visited often.

“Yes, she was a princess. And she was my best friend.”

“Really?” Caleb looked in awe. He found another picture, of Vicki on a horse.

The picture brought a rush of forgotten memories. “That was the day I taught her to ride.”

“I need to call in.” Slade spoke quietly, his voice steady.

“Why?” Caleb put the pictures down, suddenly nervous. “Dad, I didn’t mean to.”

“Caleb, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Slade rubbed a hand down his face. He squatted in front of his son and reached for the picture Caleb had put back in the box. “I’m going to call in and ask for today off so we can talk.”

“All day?” Caleb’s eyes scrunched as he studied his dad’s face. “Are you sick?”

“No, kiddo, I’m not sick. But I think we need to talk and I don’t want to leave right now.”

Slade patted his son’s leg and stood up.

Mia watched as he walked out the front door, already dialing his cell phone. She smiled at Caleb, who still looked worried.

“It really is okay, Caleb. Your dad loves you and he’s not mad.”

Caleb shrugged, but he stayed focused on the door his dad had walked out. They could hear the low rumble of Slade’s voice and then the crunch of tires as a car pulled in the driveway.

“Look at this picture.” Mia held up one of her favorites. “This is your mom at a youth group retreat.”

“What’s on her face?”

“Pie.” Mia moved closer to Caleb and the little boy cuddled into her side. “We were on teams playing Bible trivia. Each time someone on our team missed an answer, your mom got a whipped cream pie in the face.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow.” She picked through the pictures looking for later ones. A picture of Vicki before her wedding, one of her holding Caleb.

The door opened as Caleb reached for the one of his mom holding him. Mia met Slade’s dark gaze. She looked past him, to her grandmother. Myrna looked worried.

“I do love looking at old pictures.” Myrna had a hand on Slade’s arms. “It’s good to hold on to memories. That’s how we hold on to the people we loved.”

Slade stood in the middle of the living room. He rubbed the back of his neck and watched Mia and Caleb. Myrna hurried around the living room, picking up a few things that were out of place, and if Mia knew her grandmother, thinking of a way to fix things.

“Mia, do you have one of those scrapbooking kits?” Myrna sat down on the edge of the chair across from the sofa.

“Gran, do I look like a scrapbooker? That would be your other granddaughter, Heather. She’s the interior decorator, remember?”

“Right, you’re not the crafter. You’re the one who loved target practice with your brothers.” Granny Myrna looked her over. “And a hairbrush wouldn’t hurt you any.”

Mia brushed her hand through her hair. “I didn’t sleep.”

“When do you sleep, Mia?” Granny Myrna pulled her chair closer to the pictures and picked one up. She smiled and handed it to Slade. “Look at that. Do you remember that day?”

Slade inhaled, his eyes closing briefly. “I think it was the Fourth of July. We went on a trail ride that morning and it was the first time Vicki had ridden for more than a few minutes.”

Myrna chuckled at the memory they all shared. “She had to sit on a pillow.”

Slade handed the picture back to his son. Mia stood and pointed to the spot on the couch she’d vacated. “Slade, you sit down with him.”

“Can I make coffee first?”

“I can make it,” Mia offered, already heading toward the kitchen. Slade caught up with her. “Go sit down.”

“Give me a minute before I do this.”

They were in the kitchen. From the living room she could hear her grandmother talking to Caleb, telling him stories, not just about Vicki, but about all of them. Slade was filling the coffeemaker with water. She knew avoidance when she saw it.

“Slade, you’ve had a minute. You’ve had five years of minutes.” Her anger with him shook her.

“Don’t, Mia. You don’t get to barge into this part of my life the way you barge into everything else.”

“
I barge?
You broke into my house. You insisted that I go to a shrink.
I barge?
I don’t think so. I know that a child needs memories. I know that Caleb had a mother who loved him and you’ve let him live five years of his life as if she didn’t exist.”

He turned on the coffeemaker but he didn’t turn to face her. His hands were palms-down on the countertop and he was leaning, looking out the window, ignoring her. Mia walked up behind him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his shoulder.

“I know. And so am I. Today I have to explain to my son why I haven’t shared pictures and stories with him. I have to find a way to explain to a five-year-old boy that I missed his mom too much to let her memory into our lives. At first he was too little and he wouldn’t have understood. Then he got older and I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

He turned and she took a step back.

“Mia, it’s been five years. I do talk about her, but...”

“I know. It’s hard to move on.”

“I’m moving on. I date. I raise my son. I’ve gone through the five stages of grief, probably more than once. And I’m here, I’m sane and stable and my son is good. But I didn’t sit with him and share memories. I didn’t show him pictures.”

She looked away because she didn’t know if she was ready for this. He’d been married to her best friend. How did she deal with his moving on? How would she feel if she saw him with someone else?

“It’s okay for you to date. She would have wanted you to live your life. She would have wanted Caleb to have a family. She was an only child. She didn’t want that for him.”

“Right.” He poured himself a cup of coffee. “I need to talk to Caleb.”

“Granny and I will be down the hall if you need us.”

“Thank you.”

A few minutes later Mia walked into her bedroom, Granny Myrna right behind her. Mia reached around her grandmother and closed the door to give Slade and Caleb privacy.

“For a young woman who has kept herself pretty free from attachments, you’re doing a mighty good job of making up for lost time.” Granny Myrna walked past her, right to the bathroom. “Let’s do something with that hair of yours.”

“I should cut it all off.”

“You should stop pretending you don’t love Slade McKennon.”

“I don’t love Slade. We’re friends. We’ve been friends for twenty years.”

“You’ve loved him for eighteen.”

Mia ignored her grandmother. She rummaged through the cabinet for a towel and shampoo.

“Gran, let’s not do this.”

Her grandmother wrapped a thin but strong arm around her waist. “Mia, I know love when I see it. You’ve always loved that boy. But you were a good friend. A loyal friend. I doubt anyone ever saw it but me. Obviously, Slade never noticed. But men aren’t known for their skills of observation.”

“Please, let’s just wash my hair.”

“So you’re going to continue to ignore your heart? You’re going to pretend you’re just a good friend who is willing to watch a little boy. You’re as bad as that box of pictures.”

“You’re going to pretend you’re not butting into my life.” She said it with a smile because she couldn’t really be angry with her grandmother.

“Of course I’m butting into your life. I have a beautiful ruby-and-diamond ring that belonged to my great aunt, a lovely Cherokee lady, the first of my ancestors born in Indian Territory. I want you to wear that ring someday.”

“I can wear it today if you’d like.”

“It will be your ring as soon as Slade can see what’s as clear as that nose on his face.”

“What does Slade have to do with my ring?”

Myrna hugged her in an easy hug. “Why, honey, do you really need for me to spell it out to you?”