Support Your Local Sheriff. Melinda Curtis

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СКАЧАТЬ talk later,” he said to Julie, who looked like she was eager to join in on a good emergency call.

      If it was excitement she was missing, she wouldn’t find it in Harmony Valley.

      Nate checked his phone for the address, but it was just as easy to follow the volunteers and spectators up the switchbacks to the top of Parish Hill. Having arrived at a thinly graveled, rutted driveway belonging to a crotchety old man, some turned around when they saw the sign—Trespassers Will Be Shot. Rutgar wasn’t known for exaggeration.

      Nate parked his truck along the two-lane road. He walked to the rear of the property with Gage, the town vet.

      “What’s this I hear about you being a dad?” Gage wasn’t as tall as Nate, but they had the same long-legged stride.

      Nate knew gossip in Harmony Valley traveled fast. But this was light speed. “Just found out he existed last night. He’s two.”

      “That must have been a shock.” Gage spared Nate a searching glance. “And here I was telling Doc not to spread rumors.”

      Nate fought the urge to smile, to preen, to high-five. Those were the responses of a proud and loving dad. Still, he wouldn’t lie about being a father. “Let Doc run with the news. It’s true.”

      “Congratulations. I think I’ve still got some cigars from when Mae was born.” Gage slapped Nate soundly on the back. “While I’ve got you here... I’m still learning the emergency codes. What are we responding to? I don’t see smoke.”

      “Injury.”

      The closest thing they had to a doctor in town was Patti, a retired nurse practitioner. She was currently enjoying an Alaskan cruise. The first responders would stabilize and arrange transport to medical services in nearby Cloverdale, if necessary.

      Nate and Gage reached the end of the driveway and a two-story house sitting on stilts. It was painted a dirty brown and surrounded by towering pines that had probably been saplings when it was built. The town’s fire engine was parked in front of the steps leading to the porch, where the home’s owner sat and howled his displeasure.

      “No! The last time someone wanted me to be seen by a doctor, I spent days in the hospital.” Rutgar was a bear of a man, with gray-blond hair that swept past his shoulders and a long gray-blond beard that swept up dinner crumbs. His gaze roved around the gathered emergency workers. “Where’s Gage? He can look at my ankle.”

      “Although you’re bullheaded, you aren’t a bull.” Gage wound his way through the crowd, followed by Nate, until they reached the two uniformed fire personnel. “And I prefer patients who don’t talk back.”

      “What happened?” Nate asked Ben, the fire captain.

      “Rutgar missed the top step, fell and slid to the bottom. Tried to catch himself with his foot on the post down here.” Ben turned his back to Rutgar and lowered his voice, although the gathered volunteers had no qualms closing ranks to hear better. “He needs an X-ray of his ankle. He says his head hurts and when Mandy tried to get him to stand, he vomited. He might have a concussion.”

      “I’ll take him to the hospital,” Nate offered, despite wanting to get back to Julie and Duke.

      “I can drive him.” Flynn joined them. “I know you’ve got things to do.” The new dad raised an eyebrow, daring Nate to contradict him.

      Nate did nonetheless. “Are you sure? What about Becca and Ian?”

      “How long can it take?” Flynn shrugged.

      Hours, but Nate wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Rutgar was more demanding than a toddler in the terrible-two stage. “I’ll send folks back down the hill so you can get your truck in.”

      Nate walked toward the road, stopping at each car to convey the basics—that Rutgar had fallen and needed nonemergency medical care. Slowly, cars began to wend their way back downhill.

      A classic blue Cadillac convertible swung wide around the switchback, nearly driving the faded green Buick that carried the town council off the road.

      Nate flagged down the Caddy driver, who nearly ran him over before stopping in the middle of Rutgar’s driveway. “Lilac, you aren’t supposed to be behind the wheel.”

      Lilac blinked behind her large tortoiseshell sunglasses and flung the end of her maroon paisley scarf over one shoulder before answering coyly, “Is that you, Sheriff?”

      “If you can’t tell it’s me,” Nate said stiffly, “you shouldn’t be driving.”

      “Pfft.” Lilac waved a beringed hand. “No one has twenty-twenty vision anymore.”

      “Just those who drive legally,” Nate muttered. And then he added in a loud voice in case Lilac hadn’t put in her hearing aids, “There’s nothing to see here. Go home and park your car in the driveway.” Where he could see it on his rounds and know she wasn’t being a menace on the roads.

      Lilac lifted her nose in the air. “Doris says I should be able to drive wherever and whenever I want.”

      Annoyance pounded in his temples and threatened to flatten what little patience he had left. “The agreement you made after nearly killing Chad Healy was you’d only drive in an emergency.”

      “There’s an emergency here.” Lilac let her foot off the brake and the Caddy lurched forward.

      “Stop!” Nate slapped a hand on a blue bubble fender. “They’re going to be taking Rutgar to the hospital any minute. I need the driveway free of vehicles.” He’d cleared it enough to get Flynn’s truck in a few minutes before her arrival.

      Lilac pouted. “I didn’t even get to see.”

      “There’s nothing to see.” And he doubted she could make out the details if she stood on Rutgar’s steps next to him. “Rutgar may have sprained an ankle. No blood. No bone.”

      “How did he fall? And when? And...” She pursed her lips. “Never mind. I’ll find the juice in the phone tree.” She put the car in Reverse, and then stared up at him with renewed interest. “So you’re a father?”

      “Yes.” He snapped, as if the fact annoyed him, when it was Lilac who’d gotten under his skin.

      After helping Lilac make a ten-point turn, Nate returned to the house to help load Rutgar into Flynn’s truck. It took both Nate and Gage to get him moving with a shoulder under each arm. Even then, when the big man staggered, all three men nearly stumbled.

      “Wait,” Rutgar said when Nate tried to shut the truck door.

      “I found it!” Ben hurried down the front stairs carrying a small red pillow with a cupcake silk-screened on it. Not exactly what one expected a fireman to rescue.

      “Don’t judge a man by his pillow.” Without opening his eyes, Rutgar tucked the pillow beneath his back. “Jessica gave me this.”

      “Jessica, who owns Martin’s Bakery?” Nate asked with a straight face. “Recently married?” Forty years or so Rutgar’s junior.

      “There’s СКАЧАТЬ