Brenda Mott - The Sheriff Of Sage Bend

“Of course we will.” Paige shooed her away. “Get some of Mae’s stew and take care of your animals.”

“All right. But if you change your mind, call me.”

“I will.”

“Thanks, Fae.”

“You betcha. I’ll take good care of your momma.”

Outside, Miranda climbed into her truck. “You coming with me?” she asked Tori.

Her friend shook her head. “Lord knows I spend enough time at that place as it is. Unless you need me to,” she quickly added. “Of course I’ll come.” She started to walk around the front of the truck.

“No, it’s okay, Tori.” Miranda started the truck and glanced at the dashboard clock. Ten-fifteen. “I’m just going to grab something quick, then head home. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“All right then.” Tori leaned on the truck’s half-open door. “Try not to worry. We will find Shannon.”

“I know.” But as Miranda drove to town, she continued to worry. She wasn’t particularly hungry, and she knew her animals waiting at home were, but right now she felt as though she could barely drag her tired body through chores. A cup of Mae’s famous stand-a-spoon-in-it coffee sounded pretty good. Maybe a jolt of caffeine would revive her. Miranda doubted she’d sleep tonight, anyway, worn-out or not. The thought of Shannon hurt and scared out there—God knew where—wouldn’t leave.

The flashing neon lights of the Truck Inn came into view, casting a green-and-pink glow over the asphalt. Miranda parked and walked past the motel and gas station to the diner. Mae stood behind the counter, a clone of her twin, save for her bright red hair. She wore a frilly, plus-size Western blouse and black jeans that were a tad snug. She waved Miranda over the minute she stepped through the door.

“Miranda, honey, I’ve got a bowl of stew with your name on it.” Before she could protest, Mae set a plain white bowl, heaped full, on the counter, then poured a steaming mug of coffee. “This will get you goin’. No mocha lattes here.” She winked. Whipping out a napkin and silverware with a practiced ease acquired from waiting on hungry truck drivers for decades, Mae urged her to sit down. “Any word on Shannon?”

“Not yet.” Miranda blew on the coffee, then took a cautious sip. The strong brew nearly made her hair stand on end. Cowboy coffee. She set it down and added sugar. “The search party rode till dark. We’re going to pick up again at daylight.”

“Tori called earlier. Said there was folks on horses, ATVs and on foot.” Mae shook her head. “You know, my fanny might be a tad too wide to ride, but I can still manage a hike. You let me know if you need an extra pair of eyes and I’ll be there with bells on.”

Miranda gave her a tired smile. “Thanks, Mae. I sure appreciate it.”

A few customers sidled over and began to question Miranda about what had happened. She talked until she thought her brain would explode. The fact that her sister’s disappearance had become a source of gossip made her sick.

Leaving her stew half-finished, she threw some money on the counter. “I’ve gotta get home and feed. Thanks for the stew and coffee, Mae.”

“Anytime, sweetie. Anytime.” Mae swept the bowl out of sight and wiped the counter with an oversize damp cloth.

Outside, Miranda pointed her Chevy down the road. Her head felt woozy from lack of sleep. Even the coffee hadn’t helped as much as she’d hoped. Rolling down her window for a blast of cool night air, she focused on the drive.

She’d barely started down the highway that led to the county road turnoff for her ranch when she spotted flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Heart pounding, Miranda pulled over. Shannon. They’d found Shannon.

She was out of the truck before the familiar, dark green Blazer had even come to a complete stop behind her. Lucas slid from the SUV, scowling.

“You’re supposed to stay in your vehicle when an officer of the law pulls you over.”

“Did you find her?”

“What? No.” His features softened. “That’s not why I stopped you.”

“So, what—I have a taillight out? I was going fifty in a forty-five?” She folded her arms. “Lucas, I’m tired. Just write me a ticket for whatever I’ve done and I’ll be on my way.”

“Are you always such delightful company?” He glared at her from beneath the brim of his hat, his face backlit by his headlights.

She still found him far too attractive.

“Are you always on duty? For crying out loud, I thought you’d be home sleeping by now.”

“I could say the same of you, which, by the way, is why I pulled you over. You were weaving across the dotted line.”

“I wasn’t.” Miranda frowned. “Was I?”

“You’re dog-tired, with no business being behind the wheel. You could kill yourself—or someone else.”

She felt stupid. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Lucas gestured, official-like. “Pull your truck over on that wide spot there and park it. You can get it in the morning after you’ve had some sleep.”

She let her jaw drop. “And how do you expect me to get home?” He simply raised his brows. “Oh, no. I’m not riding with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Lucas, I’m fine. I’m less than three miles from home.”

“Move your truck. Now.” He spun on his heel.

Cursing under her breath, even though she knew he was right, Miranda stomped over to the Chevy and moved it onto the pull off beside the highway. After locking the doors, she got into the passenger seat of the Blazer, refusing to look at Lucas. It was bad enough she’d had to be around him the better part of the day. But if he helped find Shannon…that was all that mattered.

He drove in silence for a few minutes, with only the crackle of his police radio as background noise.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” she finally asked.

“On occasion.”

“So you can drive tired, but I can’t?”

He shot her a sideways look. “I’m used to long hours. And your mom’s already beside herself with worry. She doesn’t need me showing up on her doorstep telling her I scraped you out of a ditch.” He turned off onto the county road.

Miranda faced straight ahead, blinking against the tired, gritty feeling behind her eyes. Shannon. Where are you?

Miranda’s Australian shepherds, Tuck and Smudge, trotted down the driveway, barking as Lucas pulled beneath the arched entrance to her ranch. The sign, hanging from it by sturdy chains, creaked in the wind. Bush Creek Ranch—Barrel Racing Clinic. Horses Broke and Trained. Lessons Available.

Surrounded by mountains, thick timber and brush, her one hundred acres was a haven, the seclusion more than welcome after such a stressful day.

“Thanks for the ride,” Miranda said grudgingly. She’d opened the door and gotten out when, to her annoyance, Lucas turned off the engine and did the same. She slammed the passenger door. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you feed. I’m officially off duty in two minutes.”

“I don’t need help, thanks.”

“Don’t be so damn stubborn. It’s late. Listen to them.” He nodded toward the barn and surrounding corrals. Horses whinnied and nickered, impatient at having missed their evening meal. “Two can feed faster than one.”

She didn’t want him here. Didn’t want to have a thing to do with the man who’d left her in a church and a white dress. But she needed him to help find Shannon.

Clamping her lips together, Miranda led the way to the barn. She pulled bales from the haystack and cut the twine, not saying a word. She knew she was behaving ungratefully—that she should thank Lucas for lending a hand, despite their personal grudges.

It was as she threw hay to the pretty red roan in the last stall that Miranda’s emotions got the best of her. She bit her lip—hard—and blinked back tears. She’d been training the roan as a barrel horse. For Shannon.