Cavanaugh Cowboy

The one thing the men all had in common was that they were just passing through Forever and the J-H Ranch because life had ridden roughshod over them.

But even so, there appeared to be something rather different about this latest man who had popped up at the ranch.

He wasn’t like the others.

Miss Joan indicated the counter stool with her eyes, but Rae felt too wired to sit down.

“Why would a police detective be out here?” Rae asked.

“Maybe he just needed a little peace of mind,” Miss Joan suggested. “Police detectives are people, too, you know, Rae.”

“I know that.” She closed her eyes for a moment, as if to gather strength. “Are you sure he really is a police detective? Did someone vouch for him?”

“Yes,” Miss Joan answered simply.

She wasn’t prepared to have Rae challenge her statement. “Who?”

Miss Joan looked at her in stony silence for a moment before finally answering. “The best person I know outside of Harry,” Miss Joan assured her. “Why? Is there something about him that’s bothering you?”

Rae shook her head. “He’s not the usual type who works on the ranch.”

“As I recall, neither were you at first when I decided to put you in charge of the J-H,” Miss Joan reminded her foreman. “More than one person told me not to do it.”

“That’s different,” Rae protested. “You knew me.”

Miss Joan raised her eyes to Rae’s. “I didn’t put you in charge because I knew you. I did it because I had a gut feeling that you could do the job and that being in charge at the ranch was what you needed in your life to finally get you on the right track.”

Rae wanted to argue with the woman, to insist again that it wasn’t the same thing. But Miss Joan had an aura about her that transcended logic, and she knew that almost better than anyone. When her father had died, leaving her alone, and she had felt so lost, so hopeless that she just couldn’t go on, it was Miss Joan who had been her lifeline. Miss Joan who had bullied her into not giving up and continuing to live.

Maybe, in her own way, she was doing the same thing for this man, this police detective she had sent to her to work with.

“And you have a gut feeling about this Sully?” Rae asked.

“Let’s just say he’s not anyone that I’m going to be worried about when it comes to working out. Now, if you have a problem with him,” Miss Joan continued, looking at Rae intently, “I suggest you talk it out with him. Best way to resolve things,” she told the girl she had taken in and watched blossom over the years. She eyed Rae for a moment when the latter made no comment. “We okay?”

“Yes, Miss Joan,” Rae replied dutifully. To try to go against the woman’s wishes would just be ungrateful.

“All right then.” Miss Joan took out a pie that was in the display case and placed it on the counter. “Why don’t you take a piece of one of Angel’s pies with you and get back to overseeing the ranch while I get back to doing my job?” she suggested, slicing a piece of the peach cobbler on the counter and placing it into a small white container. Snapping the lid into place, she pushed the container toward Rae.

Rae picked up the container and smiled her thanks at the woman. “I’ll have this after dinner.”

“Warm it up. It’ll taste better that way. You might also think about sharing it,” Miss Joan added. “I cut a big enough piece for that.”

Rae looked down at the container in her hand. She didn’t have to ask Miss Joan whom she wanted her to share the piece of pie with. That was silently implied.

“Maybe I’ll do that,” Rae answered, not wanting to commit herself to anything one way or another.

Turning on her heel, she made her way out of the semi-filled diner.

Just who was this new man to Miss Joan? Was he a relative? A relative of a person who had once figured prominently in Miss Joan’s life? Miss Joan had said that the person who had vouched for Sully was someone she considered to be the most decent man she knew after her husband.

Rae frowned to herself as she got into her truck. She tucked the container on the floor beneath the passenger seat.

Her conversation with Miss Joan had raised more questions for her than answers. The one thing she was certain of was that she was going to approach this police detective with caution as she continued to assess the situation. She was determined to find an answer as to what someone like that was doing digging holes and putting up posts on a small, run-of-the-mill ranch instead of taking a vacation at some showy resort or, at the very least, some trendy beach in his home state.

Something had made that man come out here, and she intended to find out what.

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