Page 24 of Lucky Cowboy

He’d nearly dozed off twice behind the wheel this morning, and that was unacceptable. He took pride in serving as the best example of driving—that was something his dad had imparted to him as a teenager—and respected that those who enforce the laws also need to not only abide by them but do so to the letter. Mark would never abuse his power by speeding and running signs unless it was absolutely necessary.

So, he took another deep swig of his coffee, a brew that he’d had Daniel down at Mountaintop Java add not one, not two, butthreeshots of espresso to. Then, he wended his way over to his next stop, a residence where he needed to deliver a court summons.

This one wasn’t too serious. A required appearance to deal with a series of parking tickets that hadn’t yet been paid. Worse case, the person would have to cover a fine that included all the unpaid charges. On autopilot, he drove to the address in question, one of the ritziest parts of town.

The neighborhood, despite being within the city limits, was known for its upscale homes and land. Even the horse barn visible from the road looked fancier than a lot of the residences people actually lived in. This property, hemmed in by rather pristine white wooden fencing, sat at the top of a hill and was surprisingly quiet and peaceful. So quiet and peaceful that as Mark surveyed it, he hesitated to turn into the long drive.

Instead, he remained there behind his wheel to scan over the landscape. He needed to gather himself for a minute. Even with all the additional caffeine, Mark felt so worn out he could barely function.

Next thing he knew, he was startled awake by a motorcycle roaring by.

Jerking upright—he’d slumped sideways over his center console—he took in his surroundings. Rarely did he have cause to be here in the place where the locals considered all the prosperous people to live. Thankfully, the sealed manila packet remained in his passenger’s seat, the official summons still intact.

Mark glanced at the address again, for the first time bothering to pay attention to the name listed. Nova Jethro. Whoa. This summons was for Nova Jethro, one of the descendants of Rocky Ridge’s founder. No wonder he’d had to go to this neighborhood. Her family was one of the few that lived in such a posh locale.

How had he missed noting his precise location?

That wasn’t the only scary thing. Mark had been so out of he’d also left his engine running here on the street next to the turn-in for their estate. And according to the clock on his dash, he’d been offline for a full twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes of sleeping on the clock. What had he been thinking?

Horrified at his lapse and praying that no one had noticed this egregious drop of the proverbial ball, he wiped a palm over his features, hoping no overt evidence of his naptime showed.

Then, after repositioning his cowboy hat so that it sat low on his forehead—and with any luck, also hid the puffy dark circles under his eyes—he drove up the driveway. The entry, of course, ended up being on those wide double doors with a chiming doorbell. He pressed it, and after seconds, someone came over the security camera’s speaker.

“Yes?”

“This is Sheriff Mark Talbot. I need to speak with Nova Jethro.” He heard nothing for several heartbeats.

“One moment please.”

A stately woman Mark recognized as Annabeth Jethro appeared, her face a perfect mask of politeness and her iron gray hair cut into a dignified shoulder length style. “May I ask what this is about, sheriff?”

“Unfortunately, no. I have a delivery, but it must go directly to Nova.”

Annabeth’s features didn’t alter one bit. It was like conversing with a porcelain sculpture. “My granddaughter should be arriving soon.”

Mark nodded, remaining at his place at the threshold. Annabeth didn’t offer to let him in, and he didn’t request the additional favor, either. A young woman with hair that was a combination of ruby red and sunset orange arrived—colors too vivid to result from anything but a bottle or a salon—looking carefree and breezy. He disliked having to ruin her day, but the law was the law no matter what your last name happened to be.

“Nova?” he still asked. He’d never met her and needed to be sure.

“Yes.”

He handed over the envelope. “This is a court summons. You’ve now been served.”

The first proof that Annabeth wasn’t some serene wax figurine appeared in the shape of her narrowed gaze and pursed mouth.

“Served?” She turned to her granddaughter, her tone imperious. But Mark had no desire to be privy to whatever might be forthcoming.

“Ladies.” He tipped his hat and turned to leave. He’d done his duty, and right now didn’t have the bandwidth to handle anything else.

The way things had been going, he half expected Annabeth or Nova to call him back, but thankfully, they didn’t. The entry closed, and Mark marched straight to his vehicle and slipped inside. But he didn’t release a relieved breath until he was no longer in sight of those double doors.

He felt stretched so thin. Mark had gone through challenges prior to this, but not quite to this degree of difficulty. Well, nothing had been worse than losing his dad in such an abrupt and anguishing way, but that had been different. He’d been a teenager with a teenage boy’s fancy-free dreams, not an elected official responsible for an entire town.

Never had the weight of his obligations bowed his back more than right now.

Grimacing into his rearview mirror, he wondered if this was what failing felt like. He knew he’d been doing a subpar job at basically everything. How did people keep all these pans on the fire without burning anything?

---