Her Guardian Rancher. Brenda Minton

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      Emma brushed a hand across her cheek, not wanting to think about the good ones dying off or songs about who would take their place. “I’ll take care of it.”

      “There’s damage to the tractor.”

      “Okay, thank you. You can go.”

      Daron remained next to her, matching his giant steps to her smaller ones. “Your granddad let his insurance lapse. It hasn’t been paid in two months.”

      Emma sighed. “Could this get any better?”

      It would get better, though. She knew in time they’d work through this. Jamie would be healthy and Emma would be able to work full-time. Things always got better. Sometimes they just had to get worse first.

      “They mentioned having him evaluated.” Daron reached to open the door for her. “They think it’s time he gave up his license.”

      “Of course they do. But he’s only eighty and he’s usually careful.” She held her arms out to her daughter, but Jamie ignored her, preferring instead to rest her head on Daron’s shoulder. “We have to go now, sweetie.”

      “I’ll go in with you.” He glanced down at the child in his arms, her blond curls framing her face. Put a hand to her cheek as if he knew the routine. “Is she sick?”

      Emma briefly closed her eyes, because for a brief moment she’d forgotten what Lily told her. “She has a virus.”

      And then she took her daughter and walked through the open door, leaving him alone on the sidewalk. When she got to the desk where an officer was doing paperwork, Daron was still behind her.

      “Can I help you?” The officer, his name tag told her his name was Benjamin Jacobs, looked past her to Daron.

      “I’m Emma Shaw. My grandfather, Art Lewis...”

      The officer grinned and held up a hand. “We know Art. He’s in the back entertaining the guys with stories of the trouble he got into when he was overseas during the Korean War. We’ll get him processed and you can take him home.”

      He hit the intercom and told someone in the back that Art’s granddaughter was there to get him.

      “Do you have the name of the person he hit? I’m under the impression there are damages and Art’s insurance has lapsed?”

      “It’s taken care of.” The officer went on with his paperwork.

      “It can’t be taken care of. He doesn’t have insurance. If you’ll give me the name, I’ll handle it. Or will we see them in court?”

      “They didn’t press charges.”

      She spun around to face Daron. He had taken a step back, but he was still close enough to poke a finger into his chest. “I said stop.”

      “Stop what?”

      “How many times have I told you—you don’t have to rescue us. We’re fine.”

      He held both hands up in surrender. “I know you are.”

      A door behind them opened and closed with a click. She glanced back and saw her grandfather with the police chief. He’d lost weight and his overalls hung a little loose. He was wearing slippers instead of his farm boots. She drew in a breath, aching because he was getting older. Why had she thought he’d be with her forever, always picking up the pieces and keeping her safe?

      “Granddad, what in the world?” She hiked her daughter up on her hip and closed the distance between herself and her grandfather. “Are you okay?”

      He scratched the gray whiskers on his chin. “Well, I reckon I am. What are you here for?”

      “I came to get you. They said you were in a wreck.”

      He tickled Jamie and smiled at Emma. “Oh, I wasn’t in a wreck. It was a misunderstanding. I’m sorry for worrying you, kiddo.”

      “I’m...” She swallowed the argument because it would do no good. And she pushed aside her fear for her aging grandfather. “I’m sure it will be okay.”

      Jamie’s arms tightened around her neck as a violent episode of coughing racked her small body. Emma buried her face in her daughter’s hair, close to her ear, and whispered for her to take a slow breath. When she looked up, Daron watched with questions in his thick-lashed eyes. He towered over her, all broad-shouldered and strong, ready to help.

      There were days when she wanted to give in and let him be the hero he wanted to be.

      Not today. Today she wanted to go home, help her child breathe a little easier and make sure her grandfather was okay.

      “Is she okay?” Daron asked as she shifted Jamie to her other hip and pulled the hood of her jacket over her head.

      “She’s fine. And thank you. For being here.”

      “Emma, if you need anything...”

      “I know.”

      She took her grandfather by the arm and walked him out of the police station. Daron didn’t follow this time. She resisted the temptation to glance back, to see if he stood in the doorway watching.

      * * *

      Daron told himself to let it go. He knew that Emma was holding on to her pride by a thread that was coming unraveled fast. But he couldn’t let it go. He couldn’t watch her struggle to keep afloat knowing that he was partly responsible for her struggle.

      Emma didn’t want him in her life. He wanted to say he wasn’t interested in being in her life. But he guessed if he was going to be honest, he’d admit that he was attached to her, to Art and to Jamie.

      There was something about their little family. They didn’t have much. He’d noticed a tarp on the roof, meaning it probably leaked. Her truck tires were worn slick. They were content with that little farmhouse, the small plot of ground they owned and the few head of cattle they ran.

      Content. He sighed. It had been a long time since he knew the meaning of the word.

      From the window of the police station he watched as they all climbed into her truck. She leaned to buckle Jamie into the car seat. Art said something and she shook her head, but then smiled and touched his weathered cheek.

      The cop said something to him about rain. Daron nodded and headed out the door. The cop had been right. The rain was coming down in sheets. He hunkered into his jacket as he hurried to his truck. Once inside he cranked the heat and turned the wipers on high. It was cold for December in Texas Hill Country.

      He headed in the direction of Martin’s Crossing, and the strip mall where he and his friends Lucy Palermo and Boone Wilder had their office. Since returning from Afghanistan the three had opened a bodyguard business. It kept them busy, supplying protection and security for politicians, businessmen and anyone else who might need and be able to afford their services.

      Things had changed since Boone married Kayla Stanford, half sister of the Martins of Martin’s Crossing. Boone was building СКАЧАТЬ