Ruth Herne - Falling for the Lawman

Okay, it sounded preposterous put that way, but essentially, yes. He wanted to be able to hear a home invader, so the idea of a noisy air cooling unit wasn’t on his list. But he didn’t want to hear annoying birds that refused to respect his backward sleeping habits. “Kind of.”

She threw him a bright smile that said “conversation over” and started to back away. “I’ve got a cutting of hay to bale and get pulled in before this afternoon’s possible thunderstorm, so Zach―” she raised her index finger to her cap and tipped the brim in a gesture of respect “―I’m going to take what you said seriously right after I get in acres of forage, oversee the afternoon milking and pray this drought doesn’t ruin an entire year’s corn crop or I’ll be feeding cows with nonexistent funds. I’ll be doing that while keeping two little girls alive although they seem determined to tempt fate, running a busy dairy store, and keeping a neat and tidy farmhouse. I may or may not be lying about that last one.” She turned and strode away, but not without one more parting shot. “Sleep well.”

Grudging respect rivaled frustration for his sleep-deprived emotions. He had sounded somewhat absurd, and she wasn’t afraid to call him on it. And the teasing grin she sent over her shoulder as she walked away was a look that said she’d be looking forward to “round two.”

That was enough to make him eager, too. Right until the roosters let loose again, reminding him that in nine short hours he’d be back at work. He’d really like to spend half a dozen of that sleeping.

* * *

Piper dragged herself into the house just before nine that night. Lucia rose from a side chair as Piper slipped through the back screen door. She bustled to the kitchen, a fast-moving woman despite her wide girth. “You go wash. I’ll warm supper.”

“I can handle it, Luce. Sit down. Relax. You work every bit as hard as I do. I don’t need you to wait on me.”

“I’m older and bossier,” the middle-aged woman shot back. “Therefore I give orders in the house. You give them on the farm.” She lifted her shoulders in a gesture of agreement. “And we share bossing people in the store and the dairy. It works, no?”

“It does.”

Piper climbed the creaky stairs. The thought of fresh-smelling cotton pajamas called to her, but first she peeked at the girls.

Dorrie and Sonya shared one bed despite efforts to separate them. With no father in their lives, and their mother’s abandonment nearly three years ago, the girls clung to each other. They would enter kindergarten this fall, in separate classrooms, and Piper and Lucia had wrestled with that decision for weeks.

Was it right to split them up? Would it instigate more trauma? Could they handle being apart?

Piper had no idea, and the published experts disagreed, so she and Lucia followed their common sense and decided separate classrooms were in the girls’ best interests. But neither woman pretended the girls would embrace the concept. They’d shared a Sunday school class the past two years. But pricey preschools didn’t fit the farm budget and Piper’s schedule left little time for playdates, which made the girls more dependent on each other. With their first semester of school approaching, Piper wished she’d given the girls more play time with other children. That would have prepared them better for September.

“You made soup?” The scent of spiced beef greeted Piper as she descended the stairs fifteen minutes later. She met Lucia’s matter-of-fact gaze with a smile. “In this heat?”

“Crock-Pot.” Lucia nodded toward the cooling bowl on the table. “And one of Ada’s loaves from yesterday, toasted. I turned the rest into croutons for selling.”

“You’re a marvel, Lucia.”

The older woman shrugged. “Waste not, want not. The hay is in?”

“The front fields, yes, and good quality. It’s dry, though, and that might make our second cutting nonexistent. The lower field of alfalfa gave a great first yield, but the lack of rain is worrisome. The girls managed to stay alive, I see.”

Lucia’s expression soured. “What one doesn’t think of, the other does. And so beautiful, those smiles...they flash them as they plan one more way to turn my hair gray. Bah!” She raised a hand of dismissal as she changed the subject. “You cannot worry about the weather. Your father never learned this lesson. His daughter should.” Lucia sent her a stern look tempered with love. “God is, was and ever will be. Weather is not of our doing. So we deal with it as it comes, no worries, because people of faith do not worry about what they cannot control. But this problem.” She hooked a blunt thumb north and her gaze narrowed. “The policeman. He will make trouble, no?”

“Because of the roosters?” Piper scoffed at the idea, then shrugged. She’d cringed every time she made a tractor pass along the hay field that day because either Raven or Starlight seemed determined to crow along the fence that bordered the trooper’s backyard. “I advised him to block the noise. He was less than appreciative. So yes, he might make trouble. And I get his point, Luce, about sleeping, but really?” She made a face of disbelief that drew the other woman’s nod of agreement. “Don’t move to the country if you can’t handle the country.”

“I can handle the country.”

Piper turned, chagrined.

Lucia straightened. Alarm darkened her features.

Six feet of square-jawed good looks stood beneath the porch light at the back screen door, dressed in uniform. Piper clapped a hand to her mouth. “Oops.”

“But there’s no reason to have those birds outside my back door, crowing at each other all day,” Zach continued. Raising a hand, he waved light-seeking bugs away from his rugged, handsome face. “You’re not raising chicks, you’re selling eggs, and you don’t need a rooster to do that. What use are they on this farm, Miss McKinney?”

Piper stood and faced him, then waved him in. “We’re neighbors. Don’t stand on the porch, swatting bugs. Come in. And call me Piper. Want coffee?”

“You have coffee on? It’s almost nine-thirty.”

She nodded to her one-cup brewing system. “Twenty-four/seven. I don’t have the patience to wait in the mornings. This is easy. And perfect.”

“Then, yes. I’d love a cup. And a rooster muzzle to go with it.”

She laughed. Even when serious, he was funny, and she liked that in a man. Guys who could laugh at themselves? That kind of man was rare in her experience.

Regardless, she was keeping her birds, no matter how cute the trooper was in his gray serge uniform with a freshly shaved face and somewhat sleepy eyes.

Guilt mounted, but only a little. The girls loved the roosters―they’d raised them right out of the egg―and no way was she parting with them. Dorrie and Sonya had enough on their plates. The roosters stayed. End of discussion.

“So. About the birds...”

“Cream? Sugar?” She held out both in matching stoneware after she handed him a mug of fresh, hot coffee. “This is real cream, straight from the dairy. Unless you’d prefer milk?”

“I love cream in my coffee.” He sat, raised the little pitcher in big, broad hands and handled it with a dexterity Piper appreciated. “And sugar. And I have to sleep sometime, right?”

He stared right at her, letting those blue eyes sparkle with charm, their brilliance tempting her to smile back. But she’d dealt with irksome neighbors in the past. These days it was a common farmers’ lament, as if running a weather-dependent business wasn’t work enough. No, today’s farmer had to deal with keeping the neighbors happy, and dealing with calls from the town officials listing a litany of complaints.

Folks wanted fresh food but not the work, noise and odor that came with farming. Her father had caved now and again.