Page 4 of The Cowboy's Downfall
“Please.”
“The underage drinking is normal teenager behavior. Forget it unless it’s a habit—that’s a whole different problem. The shoplifting shouldn’t be overlooked. In Montana, at eighteen she can be charged as an adult and that milestone’s hurtling toward her. Don’t give her a reason to think she can use you to her advantage just because you’re a lawyer. Let her know that if she breaks the law here, she’s on her own. You aren’t going to risk your career for her.” His gaze touched hers before settling back on the folders. “Just…pay attention to her. Focus on her, and what she needs from her big sister. Try positive reinforcement rather than dictate rules to her that she’ll only break. You aren’t her mother—and trust me, she’ll remind you of that. But if you approach this situation as a chore that you’re only undertaking because you have no other choice, then you’re setting the both of you up for failure from the start.”
He was right.
And now Shauna felt bad for not embracing this as the opportunity it was—a chance to get to know her sister better. At seventeen, Taryn was approaching adulthood, and when she went out on her own in the world, they might drift even further apart. They might never get another chance like this to connect.
She could do this.
“Thanks, George,” she said. “I should probably talk to the school and get her enrolled.”
Chapter Two
Shauna
Shauna filed lesspaperwork for her rare days in court than it took to register one teenager for high school. Immunization records had taken a few days to acquire, but the real objects of interest proved to be the official transcripts from Taryn’s previous school.
Those gems found Shauna and Taryn sitting in the principal’s office late on Friday afternoon while Mr. Dunning, with his gray, military-style-cut hair, and frigid, no-nonsense glare, made them squirm.
Shauna, despite being thoroughly intimidated by him, approved of his style. The metal detector at the school’s entrance had been another eye-opening touch. Their mother might have made a wise decision, for once. This wasn’t private school anymore, where the staff were paid to be nice.
Taryn had arrived early Wednesday evening—she said she’d done some sightseeing along the way—and so far, things had been going fine. So fine, in fact, it made Shauna nervous. Taryn was polite but made no genuine attempts at conversation. Eye contact with her was rare and likely accidental. She spent most of her time on her phone.
However, she’d also settled into her room in Shauna’s small, rented bungalow without any complaints about having to share the main bathroom. She’d accepted the list of household chores taped to the fridge without argument. There was the possibility that she’d learned her lesson from the latest expulsion, and banishment to Montana had made an impact on her.
It was more likely that Shauna was being set up.
“Well, Ms. Morris,” the principal said, addressing Taryn directly. He patted the thick file on his desk with flat, broad-padded fingers. A bony wrist jutted from the cuff of his pristine white shirt. “This is quite an impressive record you have here. I especially admire breaking into the school library after hours and stocking the shelves with reading material more suited to your personal tastes. Regardless of the inappropriateness of your choices, the deviation from the current book burning trend is refreshing. Our dress code is clearly posted on our website,” he added. “I suggest you take a look at it before Monday morning, or you run the risk of being sent home to change.”
Taryn, a petite, blue-eyed blonde beauty, tossed her thick mane of curls and eyed him with haughty contempt. “All the girls in LA dress like this.”
Thisbeing a ribbed, sleeveless beige dress with a hem that stopped a hair’s breadth short of mid-thigh, and soft, black leather ankle boots. A matching leather tote hung from the back of her chair. She looked stylish and cute, and since it was late on a Friday afternoon, and she was unlikely to be sent home, Shauna saw no reason to take sides in a fashion dispute. Not until she’d looked at the school’s dress code for herself.
“Fortunately, this isn’t Los Angeles. You won’t need to represent its residents here,” Mr. Dunning said briskly. “That’s a load off your shoulders. Since you’ve attended private schools until now, I assume you’re familiar with wearing a uniform. Think of our dress code as being like those uniforms, but with fewer restrictions.”
“So, Wranglers and cowboy boots, and plaid shirts with ruffles on them?”
Teenaged sarcasm rolled off Mr. Dunning like water off a duck’s back. He didn’t so much as blink. “Everything but the hat. No head coverings of any kind.”
“Not even a hijab?”
“I had no idea you were Muslim, Ms. Morris.” He flipped an indifferent glance between her dress and her face. “Bring me a note from your mother confirming it’s for religious purposes, and we can discuss it further.” He turned to Shauna, who was enjoying the exchange more than she should. “Did you have any questions for me, Ms. Walsh?”
She didn’t. In fact, she was secretly glad she didn’t have to face him in court.
“Welcome to Custer County Senior High, Ms. Morris,” Mr. Dunning said to Taryn, wisely not offering the teenager his hand. “You’ll need a parking permit if you plan on driving to school. You can pick it up Monday morning at the front desk.”
“What a taint,” Taryn muttered under her breath when they were out on the hall.
For the sake of sisterly solidarity, Shauna kept her more favorable opinion of him to herself.
They had to pass the gymnasium on their way to the main exit. The gym’s double doors were wide open, and people were coming and going. The crowd was predominantly male and under nineteen. Contrary to popular belief, they weren’t all dressed in denim and cowboy boots. Ruffled shirts, either.
“Let’s check this out,” Taryn said. She took a hard right toward the gymnasium doors. The crowd of boys parted for her the way the Red Sea had parted for Moses.
And suddenly, as chins went up and eyes spun toward her little sister, like bird dogs on a hunt, Shauna had bone-chilling, visceral reservations about that cute dress and those boots, and the realities of the responsibility thrust upon her.
The local boys were in serious trouble.
