Page 18 of The Cowboy Comes Home

“As I appreciate what you did for my son. You’re welcome here anytime, Officer Stratton.”

“Emily, please.”

“All right. Only if you call me Jackson.” He smiled back at her. “And by the way, you might like to know that Chief Highwater mentioned you were one of Last Stand’s finest officers. And I’m guessing he doesn’t throw that kind of praise around lightly.”

She felt her cheeks heat, but underneath that was a welling up of pride, that she’d achieved what she’d worked so hard for. “No. No, he doesn’t. Thank you. For telling me that. Jackson.”

He didn’t tease her or even react to her choppy response, but then she realized he was probably used to people being tongue-tied in front of him. And as he walked over toward the group of new arrivals, his son and the happy golden dog at his side, she saw him reach out and take the boy’s hand. Jeremy made no complaint, merely stepped closer.

Now that’s a good relationship.

“Your town has worked a small miracle.”

She turned back to look at Tucker. He was smiling again, his eyes fastened on his best friend and his son.

“It’s been known to happen,” she said. When he looked at her again, after she got past the jolt those almost too-blue eyes gave her, she asked, “So, you going to translate that last sentence of Jeremy’s for me?”

His brow furrowed, but only for an instant. “Oh. Yeah. You ever see that now famous video, of Jackson pulling a horse out of a mud flat?”

“I did,” she said, choosing not to reveal she had only seen it last night, during her nosedive into Tucker’s history.

“That’s him,” Tucker said, pointing at a big, reddish-brown horse that was now being led toward the small group of children by a volunteer. “And his name’s Sorry. For sorrel, his color.”

She blinked. “He was Jackson’s horse?”

“Only when they were going to get rid of him because he spooked too easily. Just like they threatened to sell off Buck—” he pointed at a big buckskin in the next corral “—after Jackson left, because he wouldn’t cooperate in the same way with anyone else.”

She remembered the big buckskin, and found it interesting that they’d bonded so strongly that the horse wouldn’t perform for another rider. “So he bought them both and brought them here?”

“He did.” Tucker gave her a sideways look. “In case you had any last doubts about the kind of man he is.”

“I don’t.” She returned his look. “About any of you.”

For an instant something flashed in those eyes, something hot and bright. But it vanished and his tone was almost mocking when he said, “Unexpected, for a couple of Hollywood folks, huh?”

She waited just long enough to make it clear she wasn’t just snapping off a quick answer. “Somehow I don’t think that’s who y’all are anymore.”

“No,” he said. “No, I don’t think we are. Not sure I ever was.”

“Welcome to Last Stand, Tucker Culhane.”

A few minutes later, as she loaded the patient Lobo back into the unit, she couldn’t help thinking the smile that had gotten her was something special.

Chapter Nine

“Do I reallyhave to go to school on Rodeo Day?”

There was the slightest touch of a whine in Jeremy’s voice as he toyed with the last small sausage on his plate. Tucker watched him with a smile, glad he’d accepted the invite to come up the hill and have breakfast with them. Not so long ago the kid wouldn’t have cared one way or the other, because all capacity for such things had been blasted out of him by the loss of his mother. So now, Tucker was happy to hear his voice, even if it was whiny.

“Now that,” Nic said as she looked at the boy across the table, “is a good question.”

“Would they really do that?” Jackson asked. “Cancel classes for that day?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Nic said. “Rodeo Day’s nearly the biggest thing in Last Stand, short of Christmas. We’ll have to ask somebody. Just have to figure out who.”

“Why don’t I ask when I pick him up this afternoon?” Tucker suggested.

Jeremy’s head came up. “You gonna come get me again?” he asked, sounding considerably more cheerful.

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