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Fisher slid the envelope across the bar. “Don’t make a big deal out of this,” Fisher warned the grinning old man.
Cutter shook his head, but he kept grinning.
“What?”
“In my day a fella would bring flowers,” Cutter muttered. “Or take her out for a nice dinner.”
“This is for Shawn,” Fisher argued. No twelve-year-old boy wanted to spend the whole summer cooped up indoors, not knowing anyone, with nothing to do. “The camp had a last minute cancellation—”
“I get it.” Cutter interrupted. “I still say you’re takin’ the scenic route on this trip. But whatever works.”
Fisher couldn’t hold back his smile then. “I owe you one, Cutter.”
“Good for the boy.” Cutter tapped the envelope on the counter. “Kid deserves a break. So does his sister.”
Over a very bad cup of coffee, Cutter had shared everything he knew about his new employee and her brother. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Kylee and Shawn were on their own. They had no family and no safety net. Cutter’s sister ran a boardinghouse for those who’d otherwise be homeless. She was the one who had packed Kylee and Shawn onto a bus in Las Vegas and sent them to Stonewall Crossing.
The hardest part for Fisher had been hearing the state they were in when they arrived. Hearing that Kylee’s arm had been in a sling, her mouth had been full of stitches and Shawn’s arms and neck were covered with bruises made him see red. It had been years since he’d wanted to beat the crap out of someone, but he did—badly. If he knew who’d hurt them...well, it was good he didn’t.
Cutter leaned on the countertop. “She filled out that job application. For Donna’s job, the front desk manager at the vet school? I admit, I wouldn’t quit hassling her about it until I’d seen it was done with my own two eyes.” Cutter shrugged. “But now she’s holding on to the damn thing instead of turning it in. Scared, I think. Not that she’d ever admit to it. She’s a feisty one.”
Fisher grinned, in full agreement with Cutter’s opinion of Kylee and his take on things. Starting over was scary. Someone like Kylee, who was determined to be independent, would resist assistance unless there was no other choice. He admired her, her strength and devotion to her little brother. If there was something he could do to help Kylee and Shawn, he’d do it—without analyzing why he was so willing to do so. Sad as he was to see Donna retire, this would be a real opportunity for Kylee—and Shawn.
“Keep working on her,” Fisher offered. “No offense, but it’d be good for both of them.”
“Why the hell do you think I suggested she find another job, boy?” Cutter got riled up. “Go on, now, and get yourself outta here. I got things to do.”
Fisher left the bar, disappointed. Waylon was tied to the hitching post out front. “Ready to go?” he asked, patting the horse’s neck.
Waylon snorted.
He and Waylon rode into town once in a while. Since Waylon took part in a lot of parades, Fisher liked to keep the horse comfortable around cars and people. Riding in town helped with that. And since Archer had been even more short-tempered than usual this morning, Fisher had saddled up Waylon and headed out. He climbed onto the saddle and turned the horse toward the vet hospital. While Fisher got caught up on charting and checked in on some patients, Waylon could get some extra attention from the students on the large animal rotation.
He’d hoped he’d see Kylee this morning—it had been almost a week since she and Shawn visited the vet school. But since she wasn’t around, he decided to stop in at Pop’s bakery for some breakfast. His gaze swept the warm peaches and pinks that colored the early-morning sky, the faintest dusting of bright white clouds yellowing with the rise of the sun. It was going to be a gorgeous day.
He whistled, peeking in the storefront windows of the shops on the town square. Sundays were quiet days on Main Street, most shops opened late and closed early. Days like today were meant for tubing the river, barbecues and, according to his father, work around the ranch. He didn’t mind the work; he and his family had taken care of their land for generations and he was proud to do it. Maybe after he’d checked in at the hospital and after he’d completed his father’s work list, he could talk the family into roasting marshmallows over a big fire that evening. He dismounted and tied Waylon’s reins to the railing before pushing the door to the bakery open.
Carl and Lola, the elderly couple who owned Pop’s, both greeted him warmly.
“Morning, Fisher.” Lola waved. “What brings you into town this morning?”
“Figured I’d have some breakfast before I head to work.” He accepted her hug. “How’s life been treating you and Carl?”
“Oh, sugar, life’s about as good as it gets, I’d say. Well, until Josie and Hunter give us another grandbaby, that is. You can tell them I said that.” She smiled.
“I’ll do that,” Fisher laughed. “Not that it’ll hurry things along.” Hunter was married to Carl’s only child. And Carl and Lola, Carl’s second wife, loved Eli, but they were getting impatient to hold some grandbabies in their arms. Since the Boones had twins in their family, Carl and Lola were hoping they’d get two the first time around. But, as far as Fisher knew, Josie and Hunter were still too wrapped up in each other to be thinking about babies—yet.
“Can’t hurt.” Lola patted his hand. “What can I get you?”
“Couple of sausage rolls and one raspberry kolache,” he paused, glancing at the whiteboard with their specials written on it. “Make that blueberry. And lots of coffee.”
“That all?” she asked. “A man as big as you? That’s not gonna last you till ten.”
Fisher arched a brow at her. “Trying to fatten me up, Lola?”
She laughed, the little bell over the door interrupting them.
George Carson came in, saw Fisher and froze.
