Page 34 of The Cowboy Comes Home

She was smiling as she walked down Main Street. She’d taken both morning and afternoon foot patrols today, because Lobo was responding so well and was quite the attraction. People ranged from wary to admiring, but everyone noticed the big, black dog.

And he was proving his mettle in other ways, too. It was Lobo who first heard the fight between two boys behind Last Stand Expeditions, the local outdoor adventure shop, apparently over who was going to get to use their new river raft first. She ended that one with a coin flip. And it was Lobo who spotted and apparently realized that dropping an M-80-sized firecracker into a trash can full of paper and other potentially projectile refuse, was probably not a smart thing to let happen. Fortunately the big dog made his opinion clear before the kid had a chance to light the thing. That one got off with a stern admonition and a warning that Lobo never forgot a face or a scent.

She had managed, so far, not to stop and stare at the new posters that had gone up over the weekend, trumpeting the appearance at the rodeo of four-time bull-riding national champion Tucker Culhane. Still, she saw them and seeing them reminded her of the look on his face when Maggie had asked him to start off the rodeo.

I’m not…you’re serious?

He’d sounded, and looked, genuinely astonished. As if he assumed he was long forgotten in the rodeo world he’d been so far away from out on the West Coast. As if because he’d had to quit, no one would care anymore, or even remember his name.

Maggie’s remonstration came back to her, with all the fierceness the matriarch of Last Stand could muster, which was a lot.

Tucker Culhane, you got up and walked and breathed again. You rode again, thankfully not bulls. You had the courage to risk yourself again, even if it was for Hollywood. And when your friend needed you, you came.

She remembered how he’d gone from uncertain to rock solid when Maggie had said those last words. Jackson had needed him, and he’d come, no questions asked.

That made her think of Friday again, for once not the night at the saloon that she couldn’t seem to get out of her mind, but that afternoon when she’d made sure to be near the elementary school when the summer session let out. Jeremy had spotted her and Lobo immediately, and run over to them. She noticed he still paused long enough—barely—to look both ways before he raced across the street, and made sure to compliment him on it.

“Cars can kill people,” he’d said solemnly as he petted Lobo, who had greeted him with wagging tail.

She’d felt a wrench of sympathy for the boy. Her life had been, thankfully, free of that kind of tragedy. Her parents were hale and hearty, and still lived in the house she’d grown up in here in Last Stand. They were up in Dallas for the holiday week, visiting friends. And, her mother had said with a teasing grin, avoiding the rodeo chaos.

She’d miss them, she’d thought at the time. Now she was almost glad they weren’t here, her mother especially, with her knack of reading her daughter’s emotions. And whose greatest desire seemed to be to see her daughter married and producing grandchildren.

Only if you can promise me they’ll be like Jeremy.

She smiled at her own thought. Then, snapping out of the near-reverie, she resumed her walking, checking her watch to make sure she’d be done with this circuit in time to head down Hickory to the elementary school before Jeremy’s summer school class let out.

After two pauses for people asking directions, another a dog fancier asking about Lobo, she found herself in front of the office ofThe Defender. The same rodeo poster that was in all the other shops was in the window, but with an additional card attached promoting popular human interest columnist Lily Highwater’s interview with the guest of honor.

She hadn’t read it when it had come out this morning. Had told herself she wasn’t going to—there wouldn’t be anything in it she didn’t already know except probably things she didn’t want to know.

Then again, it was Lily Highwater, who dug deep and got things no one else seemed able to. More importantly, she was always kind about it. The chief had once said she let others go for the jugular, she went for the heart. Emily thought that was pretty accurate. But then, the chief usually was.

“Officer Stratton, step inside and get out of the heat for a few minutes.”

She nearly jumped and frowned inwardly at herself for being oblivious. Never a good thing for a cop. Kenneth Herdmann, the editor of the paper, was standing in the doorway, smiling as he invited her in. And she smiled back when he immediately bent and began to talk to Lobo.

“Must be even hotter out there, with all that black fur. Let’s get you a bowl of water, hmm?”

And he did just that, emptying a bowl from his desk that had held a few Tootsie Rolls he apparently had a weakness for, and filling it with water from the small break room at the back of the office. Lobo looked at her first, something Chance had trained him early on to do.

“It’s okay,” she told the dog, and he began to lap thirstily. She had a bowl and bottle in the unit parked back on Ash, but perhaps she’d underestimated what Mr. Herdmann had said, the effect of black fur in the Texas sun. And that water would be pretty warm by the time they got back there.

“I saw you looking at the article announcement,” the editor said. “Lily did another genius piece. Quite moving, that young man’s story. He’s certainly been through a lot.”

“I was there, in Fort Worth the day that bull nearly killed him,” she said. “It was awful.”

“Were you? That’s not a memory I’d want. But then, his life has been one tragedy after another, it seems. And yet he keeps going. Says a lot about his inner strength, and the human spirit.”

She felt something twist inside her, told herself not to ask, fought down forming the words, and finally blockaded her brain’s apparently chosen path by promising it she’d read the profile later.

They chatted amiably about the coming week and festivities, and she made sure he didn’t have any concerns she should know about. Then she thanked him for the water and proceeded out to resume her patrol until it was time to head for the school.

But she picked up a copy of the paper before she left.

It was Nic who arrived at the school shortly after she had, here to pick up Jeremy, and Emily didn’t know if she was thankful or disappointed it wasn’t Tucker.

There was no sign of the bullies when Jeremy appeared. Emily made note of that, but did not assume it was mission accomplished. She also made note of the smile that spread across the boy’s face when he spotted them. Lobo was already on his feet, tail wagging in welcome to the now familiar child.

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