Diana Palmer - Lawman

“You can’t work and stay at the hospital all hours,” Miss Turner said firmly. “Besides, Jolie will call you if you’re needed. We’ve gotten your phone fixed. Right?” she asked the pretty nurse on night duty.

“You bet I will,” Jolie assured her with a smile.

“All right, I’ll go home. Thanks,” she added, and followed Miss Turner out to the Expedition.

GARON HAD COME HOME a little later than his usual time and had still gone out to help his boys with some heifers who were calving for the first time. Late February was just right for new calves, with the first green grass cautiously poking its head up out of the cold ground. His black Angus cattle were pretty, and he bred for specific traits, since he ran beef cattle. It was something of a blessing that the former owners, the Jacobs family, had been horse ranchers, because the barn was well-kept and the fences had been built to last almost new. It had been a simple matter to string electric wire around the existing pastures to ensure that his animals didn’t wander.

He came up onto the porch just as Miss Turner drove up at the steps.

“How’s her grandmother?” he asked when she joined him.

“No change,” she replied. She shook her head. “She’s holding up well, but I think she’ll go to pieces if the old lady dies. She’s not used to having to live alone.”

“Don’t tell me she’s afraid of the dark,” he laughed.

She looked up at him and she didn’t smile. “If Mrs. Collier dies, I’ll have to find someone to stay with Grace for a while, just until she gets used to the idea. Or maybe she might go up to Victoria and stay with her cousin Bob for a few days,” she added, thinking aloud.

“Take it one day at a time,” he said. “It’s not wise to borrow trouble.”

“I suppose so.” She hesitated. “Her car is missing,” she said suddenly.

“I know. I had Brady bring it over here and overhaul it,” he replied. “I was tempted to send it to the junkyard instead, but I guess it’s got two or three miles left in it…”

The phone rang insistently. He reached for it before Miss Turner did. “Grier,” he said shortly.

“You stole my car!” Grace Carver accused.

“I DO NOT STEAL CARS,” he replied indignantly. “I work for the FBI.”

“They wouldn’t have hired you in the first place if they knew you stole cars,” she replied, ignoring his defense. “Where’s my car? It’s no use saying you don’t know, because the mailman saw one of your cowboys driving it off this morning after I went to work.”

He didn’t deny it. “It’s a death trap. I’m having it overhauled by my mechanic,” he said. “Then you can drive yourself.”

There was a brief pause. “I see.”

He bit his tongue. “I didn’t mean that I mind you and Miss Turner using the Expedition,” he said irritably. “Stop putting words in my mouth!”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You were thinking it!”

She blinked. “It must be a handy sort of gift, reading minds, considering your line of work,” she said too sweetly.

His eyes darkened angrily.

She hesitated, but only for a moment. “Sorry, that slipped out. Just pretend you never heard it.”

“There’s a saying,” he began slowly, “about biting the hand that feeds you…”

“I wouldn’t bite yours,” she replied. “No telling where they’ve been!” Before he could react to that she thanked him again for helping with the car, and hung up quickly.

He slammed the freedom phone down into its cradle and muttered something under his breath.

Miss Turner’s eyes widened. She’d never seen evidence of a temper in her taciturn new boss. Well, she thought as she walked toward the kitchen, at least he seemed more alive than he usually did. She wondered what in the world Grace had said to him to provoke that response.

GRACE, MEANWHILE, was feeling mean. Her neighbor had taken her car out of good intentions, so that he could fix it for her. She knew he wouldn’t charge her for it, either. She grimaced. She needed to stop taking out her frustration on him. Just because she was frantic about Granny was no reason to hurt other people. Not that he seemed the sort of person you could hurt…

She wasn’t working today, except on her own little project that consumed much of her free time and what little of her income she could spare. So when she got to a stopping point, she went into the kitchen and started cooking. She’d heard Miss Turner say that Garon was partial to an apple cake, and she was famous for hers. She used dried apples, which gave the dessert a taste all its own.

That afternoon, when Garon’s foreman, Clay Davis, brought the car back, she went out to thank him with the cake in a carrier.

He was headed toward a pickup truck driven by one of his men, but he stopped when he saw Grace coming and smiled, doffing his wide-brimmed hat.

“Miss Grace,” he said respectfully.

She grinned. “Hi, Clay. Would you do me a favor and take this to your boss?”

He looked at the cake in its carrier. “Hemlock or deadly nightshade?” he asked wickedly.

She gaped at him.

He shrugged. “Well, we’ve sort of heard that the two of you don’t get along.”

“It’s just a nice apple cake,” she defended herself.

“I felt guilty for saying unkind things to him. It’s sort of a peace offering.”

“I’ll tell him.” He took the cake.

She smiled. “Thanks for fixing my car.”

“Key’s in it,” he said. “And you need to watch that oil gauge,” he added. “We patched the leak, but just in case, don’t set off anywhere until you’re sure it’s got oil in it. If you notice a leak, let us know. We’ll fix that.”

“Thanks a lot, Clay.”

He shrugged. “Neighbors help each other out.”

“Yes, but there’s not a lot I could do for your boss. He’s already got all the help he needs.”

He smiled. “He does have a sweet tooth,” he confided, “although Miss Turner isn’t much of a hand at cakes or pies. Don’t tell her I said that,” he added. “She’s a great cook.”

“She just doesn’t do pastries,” Grace finished for him, smiling back. “That’s okay. I can’t fry chicken or make biscuits.”

“We all have our gifts,” he agreed.

“Thanks again.”

“No problem.”

He drove away with the cake beside him on the truck seat.

THAT NIGHT, Grace drove herself to the hospital. She sat outside the intensive care unit, in the waiting room, until very late. Coltrain found her there, alone, when he made his last rounds.

He ground his teeth together. “Grace, you can’t work all day and sit here all night,” he grumbled, standing over her.

She smiled. “If it were your grandmother, you’d be sitting here.”

He sighed. “Yes, I would. But I’m in better health than you are…”

“Don’t start,” she said curtly. “I take very good care of myself and I have a terrific doctor.”

“Flattery doesn’t work on me,” he replied. “Ask Lou,” he added. Lou was his wife.

She shrugged. “It was worth a try.” Her eyes became solemn. “The nurse said there’s no change.”

He sat down beside her, looking worn. “Grace, you know that heart tissue doesn’t regenerate, don’t you?”

She grimaced. “Miracles still happen,” she said stubbornly.

“Yes, I know, I’ve seen them. But it’s a very long shot, in this case,” he added. “You have to get used to the idea that your grandmother may not come home.”

Tears pricked her eyes. She clasped her hands together, very tightly, in her lap. “She’s all I’ve got, Copper.”

He bit his tongue trying not to say what he was thinking. “Don’t make her into a saint,” he said curtly.