Cowboy Justice (27 page)

“When her mom overdosed, did you stick around?”

“No, but she told me to leave her alone.”

“Last night, you said she was hurting over something about her dad and she wanted to stay at your house through morning, but you told her she had to go.”

Vaughn rolled his eyes to the ceiling and sucked his cheeks in to chew on them. He sounded like a real bastard when his dad summed it up like that. “Right.”

“What’re your instincts telling you to do about her now?”

He closed his eyes. Oh, God. Dad was right. Every time the going got tough, he dropped out of her life. “I was trying to do what she wanted. She’s a solitary person. Her whole life, she’s stood alone—strong and alone.”

“Why do you think that is—because she’s a natural hermit or because she’s never had anyone she could count on? Which scenario do you think is more likely, given what you know about her family?”

Vaughn rubbed a hand over his chin and mouth, processing. Her words that morning returned to him . . .

When I’m with you, my life falls apart. Bad things happen. Like when I leaned on my dad.

She was lumping Vaughn into the same category as her father—the man who’d let her down so miserably and completely that she’d decided she couldn’t rely on anyone but herself. Life had taught her through one hard lesson after another that if she let herself lean, she’d fall, and no one would be there to catch her. Sitting on his back porch with her, Vaughn had seconded that theory. Had told her straight up that he admired the way she took care of herself without anybody’s help.

And if his dad was right—if Vaughn really was afraid of not measuring up in her eyes—then the two of them had created the perfect storm. They were the living embodiments of each other’s worst fears. Holy shit.

No wonder he and Rachel were so fucked up.

“I see the wheels turning in your head, son.”

Vaughn shook himself back to the present and looked his dad in the eye. “You’re right. About everything.” With a strangled sound, he pushed up from the stool to pace the room, scrubbing his hand over his throat, letting it all sink in. “But it can’t be too late for us. I can’t let it be. What can I do to get her over her fears? It seems impossible.”

“Everyone talks about steel like it’s unmalleable. But you and I know that’s not true. So let me ask you: how do you bend steel?”

What the hell did that have to do with anything? “Are you comparing the woman I love to a piece of metal?”

Dad chuckled. “No. Rachel’s not the steel; her fears are. How do you bend steel?”

“You heat it up.”

Dad waved off his answer. “Before that.”

Vaughn scratched his eyebrow, then gestured to the forge. “You have to build a fire and wait for the ideal temperature before you put the steel in.”

“Once the metal’s hot enough, what do you do?”

Vaughn shrugged. “You bend it.”

“Yes, but you have to use the right tools. Is it easy?”

Grinning with burgeoning awareness, Vaughn shook his head. “No. It takes a lot of muscle and know-how and patience.”

“Does it happen fast?”

“No.” His grin broadened. Dad was a genius. The Dear Abby of the blacksmith world. “You have to coax it a little at a time. Sometimes, you have to keep tapping on it until it decides to give in to the direction you want it to go.”

“That’s right. You have to keep tapping on Rachel’s fears until they give way, but you’ve got to go about it the proper way, and you’ve got to be patient. That means you need to be a consistent presence in her life, prove to her over time that she can count on you to put her first. Instead of rushing into something, court her. I know you think I’m a fuddy-duddy, but there is nothing wrong with an old-fashioned courtship.”

Vaughn dropped onto the stool. “Okay, I like that plan. But you’re forgetting—she doesn’t want me around.”

Dad folded his arms over his chest. “Your best friend is marrying her sister. I think you can work out some excuse to be near her.”

Then he remembered. Their weekly barbecue was taking place the next day at Rachel’s house. Chris Binderman had called to let him know it was still on, despite everything the Sorentinos had gone through because Amy and Jenna wanted to be surrounded by their family and friends. Bingo.

Chuckling, dad tapped his temple. “The wheels are turning again.”

“Big time.” He looked at his watch. Six o’clock. He leapt from the stool. “I’ve got to run if I’m going to make this work. Catcher Creek rolls its carpets up early on Saturday nights. Will you tell Ma I’ll check in with you guys before church tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Sure I do.” He offered his hand and they shook. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime. You know that.”

Vaughn looked at the piles of nails sitting in disarray on the counter. Dad waved it off. “Don’t worry about this mess. You have a woman to win over. Out of curiosity, what does this plan of yours involve?”

Vaughn grinned and hustled toward the door. “You know the expression, ‘easy as pie’? I think that’s my ticket back in to Rachel’s life.” 

Chapter Twenty

Sunday afternoon, on the drive to Catcher Creek after accompanying his parents to their church for morning worship, Vaughn’s cell phone rang. One look at the caller ID had him jerking the truck to the shoulder of the road and scrambling to answer, his heart beating like mad.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

“Everybody’s fine,” Jenna Sorentino said with a chuckle. “But I can understand the panic in your voice. My family’s had more than its fair share of problems lately.”

“I’ll say.” He let out a slow, steady exhale to combat his pounding pulse. “Plus, I don’t think you and I have ever had a conversation outside of official police business.”

“Aw, that’s not true. I say hello to you every Sunday at church.”

He supposed she was right, but everybody said hello to him at church because he was the sheriff. His Sunday mornings passed in a blur of handshaking, cheek kissing, and listening to people’s grievances against their neighbors. “Good point. What can I do for you?”

“You weren’t at church today, and Kellan told us you’re not coming to the barbecue, but you have to come.” Before he’d sought his dad’s advice, he’d asked Chris to let Kellan know he wasn’t attending. “There’s only two and a half months until Kellan and Amy’s wedding. You might have heard I’m planning it for them. Today we’re gathering the whole wedding party at the barbecue to have the cake tasting, everybody except Kellan’s brother because he’s out of town. You need to be there. You don’t want Kellan to think his best friend can’t be bothered.”

Vaughn felt a grin spreading on his lips. “You play dirty, Jenna. Only a mom could lay a guilt trip on that thick.”

“And you don’t want to disappoint the bride, either. If ever there was a woman who’d turn into a bridezilla, it’d be Amy.”

“You can’t talk about her that way. It’s unsisterly.”

Jenna
tsk
ed into the phone. “It’s true, and you know it.”

Amy did seem to fall on the high-strung end of the emotional spectrum, but he hoped it’d take more than him missing a meal for her bridezilla switch to flip, otherwise Kellan was in for a long and taxing life. “Okay, but—”

“Think of all the cakes we’ll be tasting. If you won’t do it for Amy and Kellan, do it for the cake.”

“Jenna, time out. I’d already decided to come. But I’m glad you called because I could use your help with a couple things.”

“Oh. Sure.”

He braced himself for the inevitable questions that would follow, then asked, “Would you make sure Rachel’s there this afternoon? If someone doesn’t trick her into attending, I’m not sure she’ll show up.”

Jenna didn’t miss a beat. “I’m way ahead of you in that department.”

“Did you lay the cake testing/bridezilla guilt trip on her too?”

“You betcha. Are you hitching a ride here with someone so she doesn’t see your truck and get spooked?”

Apparently, he and Jenna were on the same page. And the fact that she didn’t question why he wanted to see Rachel told him a whole lot about what Jenna knew of their relationship. “I’m on my way to the Bindermans’ now.” He was all set with a tall tale about the broken suspension on his truck not being able to handle the Sorentinos’ dirt road so Lisa didn’t get suspicious.

The phone practically vibrated with the sound of Jenna’s belly laugh. “I like you, Vaughn. I think the plans you and I are cooking up have a lot in common.”

“I think you’re right. Which brings me to the second thing I need your help with.” He glanced at the stack of pastry boxes on the passenger seat. “About that cake tasting. Is there room in the mix for one more dessert?”

Two hours later, the Bindermans’ minivan pulled into the gravel driveway of the Sorentinos’ sprawling white and yellow ranch house. The porch was little more than a black gash of burnt wood that streaked up to the wood siding of the second story. He’d learned from the firefighters after the fact that the house hadn’t suffered any structural damage from the fire, only water damage to the front room from their efforts to douse the flames.

Vaughn scanned for any sign of Rachel before crawling out of the backseat. The only folks in sight were Douglas Dixon and Kellan’s mom, Tina, who were rocking lazily on a swing in the yard, cans of cola in their hands and looking awfully cozy.

“Hi, you two. Nice day to sit outside.” He opened the back of the minivan and filled his arms with pastry boxes.

“Sure is,” Douglas said. “Good to see you under happy circumstances, Sheriff.”

A large brown cow wearing ribbons and flowers and a huge bandana around its neck chose that moment to trot around from behind the stable. The Bindermans’ six-year-old daughter, Daisy, squealed and intercepted it. The bizarreness of the cow’s get-up had him shaking his head as much as its behavior.

“What’s up with the cow in the costume? It has Kellan’s brand on it.”

Douglas and Tina burst out laughing. Chris was busy unhooking their baby, Rowen, from his car seat, but Lisa went around the back of the minivan to unload all her mommy bags filled with diapers and God-knows-what. “That’s Tulip,” she said.

“She’s Amy’s pet,” Tina added.

Okay. “To each his own, I guess.”

“It started last December, when Tulip wandered over from Kellan’s ranch,” Douglas said. “Rachel wanted to slaughter it for steaks, but Amy welcomed her with open arms like it was a member of the family. She took to dressing it up, just to drive Rachel bonkers.”

Vaughn peered at Douglas from around the stack of pastry boxes in his arms. “Did it work?”

“Like a cactus needle in a cat’s behind.”

He grinned, imagining Rachel’s righteous indignation.

“I think she’s kinda cute,” Lisa said.

Chris met them, his stride a funky waddle due to the baby pouch on his chest. Rowen stretched his arms out and babbled at the cow. Chris scratched Rowen’s floppy blond hair, then slung an arm around his wife. “I don’t know, honey. I’m with Rachel. I think it looks like dinner.”

Vaughn had met Chris and Lisa through Kellan many years ago. They were, hands down, the kindest, most even-keeled people Vaughn knew, if not the squarest. They’d settled into the roles of mom and dad so naturally and contentedly, it was like they’d been born parents-in-waiting—early to bed, no vices, and vocabularies free of curse words for as long as anyone remembered.

Early on, Vaughn had embraced a plan to live out his life as the fun uncle to his sister’s kids, mostly because the idea of having his own scared the snot out of him. But if he could make things right with Rachel, and she wanted to start a family, he’d agree in a heartbeat, even if he didn’t have it in him to drive a minivan or wear a baby pouch. Then again, he was going to do something today he never thought he would, so who’s to say what the future held?

Jenna skipped out the kitchen door and down the steps. “Oh, good. You’re here. Inside, quick. Plan’s right on schedule.”

She took the top two pies and raced toward the house.

Lisa fell in line with Vaughn, tugging Daisy with her. “What plan?”

Vaughn mustered a casual shrug. “Cake tasting, I think.”

“I’m still confused. How did you get roped into bringing pies to a cake tasting?” she asked.

“Happy to help.” He evaded her attempt to look him in the eye, knowing all too well about women’s uncanny ability to read people’s faces, especially moms. At the base of the stairs, he stepped aside and swept his arm out, motioning for her, Daisy, and Chris to precede him up inside.

Jenna stood in one corner of the sprawling kitchen, arranging cakes and pies on plates and platters, while Amy, Kellan, Ben, and another man Vaughn vaguely recognized as a local hovered around the television in the kitchen, debating an umpire’s call. They turned from the TV to exchange hugs and handshakes with Lisa, Chris, and the kids, while Vaughn skirted the crowd to deliver the rest of the pies to Jenna.

“Is she here yet?” he whispered.

“No. She’s been gone since before dawn, out on her horse, but I threatened to give her hell if she didn’t show up for the cake tasting, so we’ll see. I’ll give her a few more minutes, then text her that we have an emergency. That ought to bring her home fast.”

Vaughn nodded. Someone slapped him on the back and he turned to see Kellan.

His expression was jumpy, anxious even. “Hey. I didn’t expect to see you today.”

“Change of plans. I got a ride with Chris and Lisa.” He cocked his head to the side. He was usually good about reading Kellan’s moods, but this one had him stumped. Was he worried about Rachel’s reaction to his surprise appearance? “Everything okay?”

“Sure, yeah. Beer’s in a cooler in the dining room. I was about to get myself another one, so I’ll show you where they are.”

He had the odd feeling Kellan was hustling him out of the kitchen on purpose, and eyed the semifamiliar man before pushing through the swinging door to the dining room, wondering why Kellan hadn’t introduced them. As opposed to Ben’s lanky, youthful frame, the other man was pushing forty and wearing a heavy flannel plaid shirt and a mustache. He stared his way until the door swung closed.

The dining room was even larger than the kitchen and set up as a rustic country restaurant, with two long, weathered wood communal tables and bench seating. In one corner of the room, Matt Roenick sat playing Candyland with Jenna’s boy, Tommy. Daisy hovered over them, her six-year-old motor mouth rattling on about her favorite candies.

“Hey, Vaughn,” Matt said. Vaughn crossed the room and shook his hand. They’d known each other as acquaintances through Kellan for a lot of years, and it threw Vaughn off to see him sitting with kids playing a kid game.

Ten years ago, Sunday barbecues were all about football and steaks and a bunch of guys drinking beer. But now, Sundays were more about togetherness and family more than anything else. He liked the change. It felt right and good, like they were finally growing up and getting a clue as to what really mattered in life.

“What changed your mind about today?” Kellan asked under his breath when Vaughn returned to the beer cooler along the wall.

“I was promised cake.” He selected an amber lager from a brewery near Santa Fe and sloughed the ice from the bottle. Kellan handed him an opener. “Would Amy really have turned into a bridezilla if I hadn’t shown up today?”

With a snort, Kellan snagged a beer. “No. Who fed you that line? Wait—don’t tell me. Only Jenna could make that sound believable.”

“That she did.” Vaughn passed him the opener. “Who was the guy in the kitchen?”

Kellan popped his beer open and took a swig. “That’s Ben Torrey. He’s a great guy. I think you’ve met him before. Used to work for me at Slipping Rock. Rachel getting shot and being out of commission was a wake-up call for Amy and Jenna. They got it straight in their heads how much Rachel does around here, so they surprised her by hiring a foreman. I hated to lose him, but his heart wasn’t in cattle ranching. He’s a farmer through and through, just like Rachel. He’s going to help her reestablish the alfalfa crop.”

Vaughn took a hit of beer, annoyed that he still felt a stab of envy every time Rachel’s name was mentioned in conjunction with another man’s. Since when was he the irrationally possessive type? To prove he could overcome his burgeoning caveman mentality, he asked, “He and Rachel getting along good?”

“Real well. He’s a great fit here. He’s moving into the main house this month until we can set him up in his own place on the property.”

Well, goddamn. Now the guy was going to be living with her. He took another hit of beer, scowling. “Who’s the other guy in the kitchen? I didn’t recognize him. Does he work here now too?”

Kellan rubbed a hand on his neck, looking uncomfortable. “That’s Howard Keibler. He works on Douglas’s son’s farm.”

“What’s he doing here?” Vaughn asked.

“Haven’t you heard?” Lisa asked, sidling in to nab her own beer. “Amy’s on a matchmaking warpath. It’s her new mission in life to have everyone romantically attached in time for the wedding.”

Yikes. “Poor Jenna.”

Lisa leaned in toward Vaughn. “Howard’s not here for Jenna. Amy thinks he’d be a great match for Rachel. And I agree.”

Vaughn nearly choked. Why hadn’t Kellan warned him that Amy was setting Rachel up with some dweeb local farmer right under his nose? He swallowed hard and looked to his friend, who was suddenly mesmerized by one of the photographs on the wall. One of Rachel’s, no doubt. The fake-innocent look on his face made Vaughn want to punch him in the nose.

He chugged half his beer down before he was calm enough to speak. Then he schooled his features as best he could. “Rachel okay with that?” he asked Lisa stupidly, hoping no one caught the shrill edge in his voice.

Kellan finally dared to look at him. “Not sure. I didn’t know about it until his truck pulled into the yard a half hour ago. But I bet you twenty bucks Rachel doesn’t even show up today.”

Was that his way of appeasing Vaughn? Nice try. “I’m not going to bet you that.”

“I will,” Jenna said, strong arming her way into the conversation. She stuck her hand out at Kellan. “Twenty bucks says Rachel’s here by the time supper hits the table.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Kellan shook her hand. “You’re on.”

Vaughn had total faith that Jenna would make sure Rachel appeared, even though he had trouble believing they were still working together on the same plan, given that she hadn’t seen fit to give him a heads-up about this Keibler guy. What the hell kind of name was Howard Keibler anyway?

“Get me in on this,” Lisa said. “I’ll double the bet that she not only shows up, but she agrees to a date with Howard before the night’s through. Rachel is way overdue for some fun in her life.”

“What do you think, Vaughn?” Jenna asked. “Do you think Howard and Rachel would make a great match?” She had a goading look in her eyes, and he had half a mind to believe she was daring him into challenging Keibler to a duel over Rachel.

And maybe he would, if Keibler lay a finger on her. His S&W was fully loaded in his shoulder holster. He rolled his shoulder blade and comforted himself with the feel of the heavy steel. “I’m not even going to touch that topic,” he muttered, grabbing a second beer.