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“Fucking A, Dunbar, go pester your girl. She likes you.”
“So do you, when you’re not cranky. How about if I take your mind off your poor showing as a Dom and give you something to work on as the sheriff? I’m missing several more head.” Disgust laced Caden’s voice and his hands tightened into fists. All ranchers dreaded and hated poaching.
“Shit. Jason from the Barton spread was in my office early this morning. He got hit last night as well. We’re on it, but I don’t have the staff to stake out every ranch. Did you put anyone on watch duty?” he asked, not knowing what else they could do until they had a lead to go on. Poaching was hard to prevent and even harder to catch the perpetrators.
“Yeah, the hands all stepped up and volunteered to rotate, but these guys know what they’re doing. They snuck in between shift changes and moved fast. We’ll catch ‘em,” he vowed in a cold voice, “but likely not before they’ve already disposed of our cattle.”
Grayson shook his head and straightened. “I’ve got a call into state patrol for extra help in keeping an eye out. Let’s hope they don’t get many more before we take them down. I’m freezing my balls off and done pouting. Come on.”
Caden’s dry response of, “You’re welcome,” followed him inside and earned his friend the childish gesture of the middle finger.
Chapter 3
Montana’s vast wide-open spaces backed by white-capped mountains and towering pines contrasted dramatically with the crowded metropolis of jam-packed industrial high rises of Chicago, as well as the other cities Avery had recently passed through. Driving through Big Sky Country, she noticed two things the state boasted in abundance: pickup trucks and cows. Pulling into Willow Springs, she took note of their smallest commodity: people. Growing up in one of the country’s largest cities, she didn’t understand the draw of small towns and worried this might be an even bigger mistake than she’d been fretting over the last two days. It was much easier to blend in among the masses filling the bigger cities she’d been hiding in than it would be in this town of less than seven thousand, and that population was large compared to most of the places she’d driven through to get here. Even the capital, Billings was a fraction of the size of Chicago.
Glancing at the gas gauge, she decided to check in at the only motel she saw once she hit Willow Springs’ city limits and prayed the downtown section where she hoped to pick up work was within walking distance. Public transportation wasn’t cheap, but she’d been taken aback by how much gas cost after using the lion’s share of her savings to buy a used car on her way out of Chicago. She supposed if all else failed, she could always give up on this ridiculous idea of searching out her mystery caller, getting to know him first to determine if he might have been serious about helping her and then, if he seemed trustworthy, taking him up on his offer.
An hour later, Avery set out on foot from her motel room despite the cold, brisk air and walked the half mile to the quaint downtown square the motel manager directed her towards. Standing on the corner, she glanced around the neat, four-sided shopping and business area surrounding a large fountain and wooden benches. She caught a glimpse of towering mountain peaks over the rooft
ops of some buildings dating back decades, the view making her feel as if she stood in the middle of nowhere.
Hugging her coat around her to ward off the cold that came more from feeling out of her depth than the frigid air, she strolled down the first row of stores and businesses, noting the absence of parking meters along the neat rows of on-street parking. Several quaint gift shops displayed an array of western gear, home décor and souvenirs but no help-wanted signs. She paused outside a bookstore, her mood lightening as she peeked inside and saw the rack of new releases. After hearing Darren’s threat, she’d only taken time to rush back to her furnished apartment and throw as many clothes and toiletries into one suitcase as it would hold before dashing out again to clear out her meager savings and get as far away from him as fast as possible, leaving behind her collection of suspense novels.
With a sigh of regret at not being able to spare the funds to purchase one, she kept going, hoping for a sign of employment since she didn’t dare risk filling out an application online. A glimpse inside the old-fashioned soda and sandwich shop revealed it was doing a good, late afternoon business, but with enough employees to handle it. The two-story police precinct and court house followed by the water company filled the next stretch of old brick buildings and she took a chance on filling out an application at the utility office.
By the time she finished, the lowering sun had disappeared behind the buildings, leaving only a faint, yellow/orange glow of illumination to add to the lighted street lamps. The Palace, the smallest movie house she’d ever imagined looked closed, so she headed down to the corner and the bright, lit-up sign of Dale’s Diner. To her relief, a large red and white help wanted sign sat in the checkered-curtained window.
Feeling as if she’d stepped back in time, Avery stood in the entrance enjoying the warmth while taking in the old-fashioned booths, each displaying a juke box, as she waited for the older woman bustling behind the long counter to break from barking out orders to the two cooks behind her. She’d no sooner taken a seat on a vacated stool than a hand plopped down a menu in front of her and the woman snapped, “Be right with you.”
Bemused by her brusque manner, Avery glanced through the offerings with no intention of ordering. Even at the reasonable prices, she couldn’t afford to spend more than a few dollars a day on food, which limited her to the cheaper items at fast food places. As luck would have it, her stomach rumbled just as the woman returned, reminding her she hadn’t eaten all day.
“You’re new around here. Monday’s special is chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and green beans.”
“Oh, thank you, but I just came in to ask about the job,” Avery replied as she tried not to drool over the steaming plate holding the special one cook set on the ledge for delivery.
Tapping a bell, the short, balding man called out, “Order up, Gertie!”
“Stay put,” the plump, gray-haired woman instructed before snatching the plate and setting it in front of the man seated several stools down from Avery. She returned to glare at Avery, hands fisted on wide hips, blue eyes way too shrewd for her comfort. “I’m Gertie. Eat something and we’ll talk.”
With heat spreading over her face, Avery stuttered in response, “I… can wait… so I don’t keep you. You look busy.”
“Nonsense.” Turning her head, she called out, “Get me another special, Clyde.” Avery swallowed, resigning herself to parting with twice the cash she usually spent on a meal as Gertie faced her again and snapped out, “Food’s on me. How much experience you got?”
Fidgeting on the seat, she saw no way around the truth. “Not much, just a short stint at another diner, but I catch on quick.”
Narrowing her eyes, Gertie questioned, “How short?”
Regret sliced through Avery and she started to slide off the stool. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time…”
Pointing to the seat, Gertie ordered, “Sit. How short?”
“Ten days,” she returned with a defiant edge to her tone as she nudged her glasses up with a jab of one finger.
“Can you write down orders correctly and bus tables in a timely fashion?”
Her pulse picked up a beat of hope. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Then you’re hired and don’t ma’am me. It’s irritating.”
