A Ranger For The Holidays. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ sure I can’t begin to imagine what you are going through. It’s got to be so hard. But if there’s anything I do know, Finn, it’s that hard things are harder alone.” The dark, hard edge showed in the corners of her eyes again, the way it had whenever they talked about the possibility of him being in law enforcement. He’d noticed that little detail like he’d noticed a dozen others—how she avoided talking about herself, how she curled a finger around her hair when she got nervous, how everyone spoke about her in tones of veiled “bless her heart” pity.

      Maybe that was why he felt such an affinity for her; she’d been knocked down by something but was fighting to stay up. He wasn’t very good at that fight but she was; she hadn’t let whatever it was beat her down. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to let a bit of that optimism rub off on him.

      A wedge of light spilled on the car, and Finn looked up to see an older man standing in the door that led to the house. He could see more Christmas decorations behind the man, even from here. The urge to run was as strong as the urge to go inside. Not knowing quite who he was seemed to push every emotion closer to the surface, and he was too tired to fight it.

      “Come inside,” Amelia coaxed. “If you still want to leave in the morning, we’ll talk about it. It’s almost supper and you need food and rest.”

      The scents of a home kitchen wafted through the garage as he hauled himself out of the car and Finn’s stomach growled. He winced as he grabbed the tiny “luggage” the hospital had given him—sad to note all his current possessions fit into the small plastic bag.

      “Finn, is it?” called the old man, leaning on a cane. He had Amelia’s eyes and a head full of bushy gray hair.

      “Yes, sir.”

      The man waved the formality off. “Oh, don’t ‘sir’ me. Luther’ll be just fine.” He held out a hand with thick, wrinkled fingers and shook Finn’s with a strong grip. “Tough go you’ve had there, son. I could barely believe it when Amelia told me.” He hobbled into the kitchen, motioning for Finn to follow.

      A holiday home decor tidal wave assaulted Finn’s eyes, bringing a surge of nauseated panic to clutch at Finn’s throat.

      “It gets worse every year,” Luther remarked, his expression telling Finn that he hadn’t hid his reaction well. “I feel like I’m living in a department store window some days.”

      Pine boughs, candy canes and red ribbon seemed to erupt from every available surface. A miniature tree with tiny ornaments stood in the center of the kitchen table while lights twinkled from every window.

      Amelia bustled in behind him, her face a mix of pride and embarrassment given the admission he’d just made in the car. “I admit,” she said with a raised eyebrow, “I enjoy the holidays.”

      “I think we went past ‘enjoy’ four years ago.” Luther gave Amelia an indulgent kiss on the cheek. “Now it’s closer to ‘obsess.’ Gets it from her mother, God rest her soul.”

      Amelia set another bakery box down on the counter—more experimental pie slices?—and shucked off her coat. “Gramps says all the Klondike men married women with the gift for ornamentation.”

      The gift for ornamentation. That was one way to put it. Finn fished for some kind of well-mannered compliment to pay the display, but came up short. When the kitchen clock struck the hour by playing “Joy to the World,” he wanted to shut his eyes and run from the room. But what good would that do? The rest of the house would likely offer the same festive assault.

      A series of snuffles and small barks came from another part of the house, and a fat dog with bulging eyes waddled into the room.

      “Bug, say hello to our new friend Finn.”

      Bug, who looked as if his face was permanently pushed up against some invisible glass window, sniffed noisily around Finn’s boots, a pig-curly tail twitching in curiosity. Finn reached down and let the dog sniff his hand. “Hi there, Bug.” Bug, of course, sported a red collar dotted with green Christmas trees and a shiny silver bell.

      Bug’s interest in Finn lasted only until Amelia lifted the lid off a Crock-Pot on the counter, sending a spicy, beefy aroma into the air. That sent Bug to jumping at Amelia’s feet, hoping for a taste. Finn couldn’t blame the dog for his enthusiasm. Real food. Maybe he could put up with the Yuletide high tide if it came with good home cooking. He owed it to himself—and to Amelia—to at least try.

      “Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes. Gramps, why don’t you show Finn to his room and he can settle in.”

      “Less decorations up there, I think,” Luther said as he headed for a banister wrapped in red and gold ribbon. “You’re upstairs at the end of the hall. I don’t do stairs anymore, so I’ll just point you in the right direction, if that’s okay.” He pointed to a door Finn could just see off the left of the staircase. “Take a moment to wash up and get your bearings, and we’ll see you back down here in just a bit.”

      “Thanks, Luther.” Finn mounted the first stair, then found himself reaching for the banister. His side was throbbing, and he didn’t like the fact that he needed the support to climb the flight.

      “Think nothing of it, son. Least we can do.”

      Nobody has to do anything for me, Finn thought darkly. I’ve no friends here.

      That’s not true, a small voice argued with his darker nature. And that’s not bad.

      * * *

      “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Amelia didn’t like the scowl Lucy Benson gave her as they took Bug for his evening walk when Lucy stopped over after supper. “I know you can’t help helping,” Lucy continued, “but we don’t know anything about him. For all we know he could be connected to the thefts.”

      Amelia buttoned up her coat against the evening chill. “He’s not a criminal, Lucy.”

      “Amelia, you don’t know that. Seeing the good in everybody doesn’t mean you have to put them up in your home. He could rob you blind while you sleep tonight and it’s not as if you and Gramps and Bug could defend yourselves.”

      Amelia stopped walking to stare at Lucy. “He’s not our rustler, Lucy. I’m sure of it.”

      “Well, forgive me if I don’t put that much stock in those hunches of yours. Being sheriff means I have to depend more on solid evidence than your famous intuition.”

      Amelia chose a new topic. “Well, Madam Sheriff, what new have you learned about our cattle thieves? Any closer to catching whoever is doing all this?” Little Horn had been experiencing a strange brand of crime spree, with cattle disappearing from wealthy ranchers’ estates while gifts of supplies and equipment had appeared to families in need. A cowboy version of Robin Hood.

      “Some folks are downright scared, having their security violated and goods stolen. And they’ve a right to be worried. I don’t mind telling you I’m getting a lot of pressure to solve this case. The finger-pointing is going to get ugly if we don’t get a break soon.” Lucy pushed out a sigh, her breath a white whisp in the clear night air. “Then there are the folks who’ve received gifts. They’re grateful, but I know they can’t help thinking their gain might be at someone else’s expense. As to who’s doing it? I wish I knew.” She gave Amelia a sideways glance. “And I can’t say СКАЧАТЬ