“I’ll do that. Get yourself cleaned up, Meda,” her father said gently, using his pet name for her. “Go on.”
She left the room muttering. She didn’t even look at Dal Blake.
* * *
That had been several years ago, before she worked in law enforcement in Missouri and finally hooked up with the FBI. Now she was without a job, running a ranch about which she knew absolutely nothing, and whole families who depended on the ranch for a living were depending on her. The responsibility was tremendous.
She honestly didn’t know what she was going to do. She did watch a couple of YouTube videos, but they were less than helpful. Most of them were self-portraits of small ranchers and their methods of dealing with livestock. It was interesting, but they assumed that their audience knew something about ranching. Meadow didn’t.
She started to call the local cattlemen’s association for help, until someone told her who the president of the chapter was. Dal Blake. Why hadn’t she guessed?
While she was drowning in self-doubt, there was a knock on the front door. She opened it to find a handsome man, dark-eyed, with thick blond hair, standing on her porch. He was wearing a sheriff ’s uniform, complete with badge.
“Miss Dawson?” he said politely.
She smiled. “Yes?”
“I’m Sheriff Jeff Ralston.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said. She shook hands with him. She liked his handshake. It was firm without being aggressive.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he replied. He shifted his weight.
She realized that it was snowing again and he must be freezing. “Won’t you come in?” she said as an afterthought, moving back.
“Thanks,” he replied. He smiled. “Getting colder out here.”
She laughed. “I don’t mind snow.”
“You will when you’re losing cattle to it,” he said with a sigh as he followed her into the small kitchen, where she motioned him into a chair.
“I don’t know much about cattle,” she confessed. “Coffee?”
“I’d love a cup,” he said heavily. “I had to get out of bed before daylight and check out a robbery at a local home. Someone came in through the window and took off with a valuable antique lamp.”
She frowned. “Just the lamp?”
He nodded. “Odd robbery, that. Usually the perps carry off anything they can get their hands on.”
“I know.” She smiled sheepishly. “I was with the FBI for two years.”
“I heard about that. In fact,” he added while she started coffee brewing, “that’s why I’m here.”
“You need help with the robbery investigation?” she asked, pulling two mugs out of the cabinet.
“I need help, period,” he replied. “My investigator just quit to go live in California with his new wife. She’s from there. Left me shorthanded. We’re on a tight budget, like most small law enforcement agencies. I only have the one investigator. Had, that is.” He eyed her. “I thought you might be interested in the job,” he added with a warm smile.
She almost dropped the mugs. “Me?”
“Yes. Your father said you had experience in law enforcement before you went with the Bureau and that you were noted for your investigative abilities.”
“Noted wasn’t quite the word they used,” she said, remembering the rage her boss had unleashed when she blew the interrogation of a witness. That also brought back memories of the brutality the man had used against her in the physical attack. To be fair to her boss, he didn’t know the prisoner had attacked her until after he’d read her the riot act. He’d apologized handsomely, but the damage was already done.
“Well, the FBI has its own way of doing things. So do I.” He accepted the hot mug of coffee with a smile. “Thanks. I live on black coffee.”
She laughed, sitting down at the table with him to put cream and sugar in her own. She noticed that he took his straight up. He had nice hands. Very masculine and strong-looking. No wedding band. No telltale tan line where one had been, either. She guessed that he’d never been married, but it was too personal a question to ask a relative stranger.
“I need an investigator and you’re out of work. What do you say?”
She thought about the possibilities. She smiled. Here it was, like fate, a chance to prove to the world that she could be a good investigator. It was like the answer to a prayer.
She grinned. “I’ll take it, and thank you.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “No. Thank you. I can’t handle the load alone. When can you start?”