The Sheriff's Son Read online

  “I’ll cut right to the chase, Sarah. Let’s get married.”

  After a long struggle she managed to find her voice, but could only sputter a shocked “Wh-what?”

  “Just what I said.” Tanner rested an elbow on the railing and peered down at her. “We’d planned to all along, right? But life got in the way. Now things have settled down again—we’ve settled down. It only makes sense.”

  Sarah cleared her throat and tried to speak again. “What about Kevin?”

  “What about him?”

  “You would adopt him?”

  “Sarah, I’m willing enough to take care of you and Kevin. You know that. Stepfather, yeah, that I’ll agree to. But that’s it. I don’t want to adopt the boy.”

  Tears stung her eyes, and a coldness settled inside her. “The offer’s tempting, Tanner. But you walked away from me once and I can’t take the chance you might do it again. So my answer is no. I won’t marry you.”

  Dear Reader,

  If you’re at all like me, you love being swept into a good book, where you can leave your cares behind—and get involved in someone else’s troubles for a change! Where you can learn how the characters handle life’s ups and downs. And, best of all, where you can watch them struggle against their feelings…until they finally admit their love and realize they’ve come home.

  Again, if you’re like me, you’ve sometimes made mistakes in your life and watched them grow all out of proportion. That happened with Sarah and Tanner, whose story you’re holding right now. It took them years to find out—Well, I’ll let them reveal their tale in the following pages. Here, I’ll share my story with you….

  Since the age of nine I’ve dreamed of telling stories of my own—and now I’m beyond thrilled that my first two books will be in print this year. Thanks for joining me in this adventure! As we take our first steps together, I hope you enjoy The Sheriff’s Son. And watch for Court Me, Cowboy, coming to you in November.

  I love to hear from readers. You can reach me at P.O. Box 504, Gilbert, AZ 85299 or through my Web site, www.barbarawhitedaille.com.

  All my best to you!

  Until we meet again,

  Barbara White Daille

  The Sheriff’s Son

  BARBARA WHITE DAILLE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  When she was very young, Barbara White Daille learned from her mom about the storytelling magic in books—and she’s been hooked ever since. Now thrilled to be an author herself, she hopes you will enjoy reading her books and will find your own magic in them! Originally from the East Coast, Barbara lives with her husband in the warm, sunny Southwest, where they love the dry heat and have taken up square-dancing.

  This book is lovingly dedicated to Elizabeth Gallagher who started it all and to Rich who helps keep it going

  Many thanks to a very special editor Kathleen Scheibling

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Chapter One

  The eeny-meeny-miney-mo approach to paying bills wouldn’t keep creditors from her door much longer.

  Sarah Lindstrom sighed, planted her elbows on the desk and buried her face in her hands.

  What she wouldn’t do for some matches or a fireplace. But the only bookstore in Dillon, Texas, wasn’t the place to find either of those things, even if she were dumb enough to resort to drastic measures. Burning the bills would only add to her problems, not solve them.

  If one more straw would snap the camel’s back, as Daddy used to say, then one more debt, one more unplanned doctor visit, one more call from Kevin’s school ought to bring down a whole herd of cattle.

  The thought of her son made her sigh again. It was only a few weeks into the new school year, and in that short time, he’d given her more grief than in all seven years of his life combined.

  At the sound of the bell over the door, she glanced at the clock. The Bookies had arrived a bit early.

  She smoothed the loose curls escaping from her braid, ran a hand over the front of her dress and smiled. Nowadays, besides reading, her only form of entertainment came from The Book Cellar’s novel discussion group, an assortment of local women ranging from former schoolteachers to ranch wives to several of her own stay-at-home-mom friends.

  Halfway through the office doorway into the large, overflowing bookstore, she froze. Her mouth hung open, the greeting she’d intended to call out shriveling on her tongue, sliding back down her throat, curdling in her stomach.

  Her “one more straw” had arrived.

  Instead of the group of women she’d expected to see, a man stood at the front of the store, framed between a pair of ceiling-height bookcases.

  Tanner Jones seemed to fill her vision, standing taller and more broad-shouldered than she ever remembered, but looking, unfortunately, all too familiar. Except for the deputy sheriff’s badge decorating his chest, and the gun resting on his hip.

  A frown rumpled his brow and his hand gripped the back of a bright blue T-shirt, pulling up with just enough pressure to keep the boy inside the shirt dancing on tiptoe.

  A single mother’s worst nightmare. Doubled.

  The son she never wanted to see in trouble.

  The man she’d once loved. Once lost. And never wanted to see again.

  “Mom! I—”

  “Hold it, son,” Tanner broke in.

  Her stomach dropped. His voice had deepened with the years, but his once well-loved drawl triggered a fully illustrated volume of unwanted memories.

  Sarah focused instead on Kevin, whose yelp revealed much more than his missing front tooth. What had he done? And why did Tanner have to be the one to catch him?

  Half of her wanted to scream at Tanner to let her son go; the other half wanted to behave like a calm, rational human being who understood the importance of law and order.

  Well, she’d never been rational around Tanner before.

  “Put him down this instant.”

  He laughed. “C’mon, Sarah, I outgrew that tone in grade school with Mrs. G.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Don’t you think you ought to hear what happened first?”

  “No. First, I think you ought to unhand my son.” Her voice wobbled. She took a deep breath. She had to be strong for Kevin. They had no one else but each other. “Let him go, then we’ll talk.”

  To her relief, Tanner shrugged and released his hold on the T-shirt. Kevin’s heels dropped to the floor.

  “Mom!” He rushed across the room to wrap his arms around her waist and bury his face against her.

  “It’s all right.” She kept a reassuring arm around him but shifted him to her side so they could face the enemy together.

  Normally, she had a healthy respect for the law. But this was Tanner Jones, and that made all the difference. “What happened, Kevin?”

  Tanner whipped a leather-covered notebook out of his pocket. As he started toward them, her son trembled against her.

  “Nothing happened, Mom!”

  Tanner snorted. “You call defacing a sheriff’s car nothing?”

  “Oh, Kevin. You didn’t.”

  The bell over the front door rang again, and Kevin’s friend Billy poked his head into the room. “Hey, Kev, what happened to ya? The bus is late and Mom told
Gary he had to drive us to school and he’s yelling to hurry up.”

  Kevin slipped from her encircling arm and looked at her with pleading eyes.

  She nodded. “You go to school, and I’ll speak with Deputy Jones. Be prepared, though. We’ll talk about this when you get home.”

  “Wait a minute—” Tanner began.

  Her son bolted, sneakers pounding across the wooden floor, down a side aisle and through the front door, which he slammed shut behind him.

  The bell jangled so hard, she thought it might fly off and break a window.

  “Damn, the kid’s fast,” Tanner muttered.

  Fast and long gone—while she stood there, trapped.

  Kevin had done plenty to concern her lately, from smart-mouthing her and his teachers to acting the clown in class. He would face the consequences eventually. She would have to face her consequences right now.

  Tanner started down the center aisle toward her. She had no plan, but instinct knew what she needed. Distance and a sturdy barrier. Immediately.

  Sidestepping, she put the long, waist-high counter between them. With shaking fingers, she straightened the pile of bookmarks near the cash register. Wishing for a more time-consuming chore, she glanced around the store, through the windows, everywhere but at Tanner.

  Where were the Bookies when she needed them?

  Reluctantly, she looked back to find Tanner standing across from her. Sunlight glinted off the badge pinned to his shirtfront, threw golden highlights into his sandy-colored hair. He’d been blonder back in their school days. Butterscotch, she’d tease, tug on a handful, then run away. But he’d always catch her.

  Today, he’d caught Kevin.

  She leaned against the shelves lining the wall behind her, bracing herself.

  “What are you thinking, Sarah, letting your boy run off like that? Don’t you even want to know what he did?”

  “Of course, I do. But first, I want to know what you’re doing here. Why did you come back to Dillon?”

  “What’s this look like?” He tapped a finger against his badge. “I’m Deputy Sheriff in this great state of Texas, sent to guard the good folks of Dillon.”

  She took a closer look. “You’re County?”

  He nodded.

  At least he wouldn’t have an office in town. She’d grasp at any spilled straw, though Daddy would’ve told her you can’t fix the camel’s back once it’s snapped.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here. What happened to Deputy Worth?”

  He frowned. “Worth’s out on sick leave, so I’m assigned to Dillon for the present. And judging by your boy’s activity this morning, I’ll have plenty to keep me busy.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Tanner. He’s only a child. What kind of damage could he have done to your car? Surely not enough to make you so ready to lynch him?”

  All right, even she could recognize an overreaction when she heard one. But Tanner had always driven her to extremes. Had made her do things she wouldn’t ordinarily consider—

  No time for those thoughts now. Or ever.

  She had her child to worry about.

  “Lynching?” He laughed, loud and full-throated, tipping his head back, exposing the long lean column of his neck. “I just wanted to give him a scare, make him think twice before he goes off and does something else he shouldn’t.”

  “Just what did he do?”

  “Took it upon himself to decorate my car.”

  Her heart sank. She sneaked another glance at Tanner. He didn’t look nearly as fierce as he had when he’d first come into the store, Kevin dangling from his fingertips. With any luck, she’d get by with a written warning, instead of a ticket she couldn’t hope to pay. If her son was guilty of the damage.

  “You know for a fact it was Kevin?”

  “Caught him egg-handed.”

  “Eggs?” She sagged in relief. “Is that all?”

  “You know what dried egg does to a paint job?” He flipped open his notebook. “‘Kevin Lindstrom,’” he read aloud. “Age?”

  “Under eighteen,” she snapped. “That makes him a minor.” Low down in her stomach, a small tremor of guilt and fear began to build. “W-why do you want to know?”

  His eyes focused on her, and her legs threatened to buckle. She knew what Kevin must have felt like, without solid footing beneath him.

  “I’m going to keep an eye on that child.”

  “He’s my responsibility, thank you.”

  He snorted. “And a great job you’re doing, too, aren’t you? Can’t even control your own son.”

  “How dare you!”

  “I’m a deputy sheriff, that’s how. Seems to me your boy’s a bit high-strung and looking for some attention.”

  “He’s a typical child,” she shot back.

  “Trouble waiting to happen. Where was he supposed to be when he was egging my County vehicle?”

  “Waiting for the bus at a friend’s house.”

  “With no one to watch over him?”

  “His friend’s mother keeps an eye on both boys.” What did he think, she let her son run wild? “You heard Billy. If his brother had to drive them to school, something must have happened to the bus.”

  She would find out what—later. Her affairs were none of Tanner’s business. Not anymore.

  “I’ll give you the price of a car wash and make sure Kevin knows what he did was wrong. Let it rest with that.”

  “Can’t. Pranks can lead to worse things. We sure don’t want Dillon overrun by hooligans.”

  “I agree with you there. But egging a car is childish mischief, Tanner.” Ticket be darned. She’d take on a mountain of debt before she’d let her son be railroaded by a deputy carrying a grudge along with his gun. “Are you calling my son a hooligan?”

  The very idea of this man doing Kevin an injustice set fire to her maternal instincts, and she raised her hands in frustration.

  Instantly, Tanner reached out to curl his sturdy fingers around her wrists, and another basic instinct competed with the first, turning her insides all warm and mushy.

  Somehow, she kept her wits about her enough to notice his barely concealed anger. To observe his admirable restraint as he placed her palms down flat on the countertop. To realize she might have edged her toes over the line between getting a ticket and getting carted off to jail.

  “Simmer down. I wasn’t referring to Kevin. But—”

  “And you’ve done lots worse than egging a car yourself, Tanner Jones, or don’t you remember?”

  Suddenly, all signs of his anger disappeared, leaving her wondering if it had only come from her imagination. He smiled down at her with those sea-blue eyes she’d so loved.

  He leaned closer, jerking her from her thoughts and bringing those eyes…his face…his lips on a level with hers. “I remember a lot of things, Sarah.”

  If she thought his tone gave special meaning to the statement, his next words left no doubt.

  “I remember how it was having a conversation with you, instead of arguing, like we are now.”

  “That was before you left Dillon—and everyone in it—behind.” She lifted her chin. No tears. No trembling. “I’d call that a real conversation stopper.”

  A flush began at his neck, crept up his smooth-shaven jaw, stained his lightly tanned cheeks.

  “Dammit, Sarah, I told you my reasons the night of graduation, after we…” He stumbled to a halt, the words dying on his lips.

  The way she had died inside when he left her.

  Her eyes hurt from the effort to keep her gaze locked with his, to stop him from reading the thoughts her face would plainly show.

  “Listen,” he continued, “I’d told you my plans. You’re the one who wouldn’t talk to me after that.”

  “After that,” she echoed in a frosty tone, “I had nothing to say to you.”

  “Yeah, and after that, you ran off and got married.” He took another deep breath. “We’re grownups now, Sarah. Why don’t we put all this behind
us and go on?”

  “I have.”

  “Sure. That’s why you—”

  The front door opened, and his protest disappeared beneath a wave of familiar female voices. It didn’t matter. She didn’t care to hear whatever he’d planned to say.

  “You’ll have to excuse me.” Her cold, polite tone came without effort. “The Bookies are here.”

  His jaw dropped. “What the—? Bookmaking’s illegal.”

  She forced a laugh. “You’re trying too hard to find criminal activity in Dillon, Tanner—you’re not planning to arrest Mrs. Gannett for studying popular literature, are you?”

  As she edged between him and the adjacent bookcase, he turned, catching her off guard. His body brushed lightly against hers.

  Somehow, from somewhere, she found the strength to push past him and flee toward the front of the store.

  Chapter Two

  In the distance, female voices buzzed like static from the County car’s radio.

  Tanner tuned them out. Gritting his teeth, he shoved the notebook into his pocket. His muttered curse would’ve earned him a week’s detention from Mrs. G.

  Where had this stubbornness of Sarah’s come from?

  For that matter, what had gotten into him, cracking down so hard on her and the boy? Much as he hated to admit it, he knew: the first sight of Sarah had unsettled him.

  Turning on his heel, he put his back to the chattering ladies. He could see into her small office, as cluttered as the bookstore.

  A two-drawer filing cabinet sat in one corner, books and catalogs spilled across the top. A bulletin board held a haphazard collection of crayoned pictures. Then there was the desk. Neat and clean as a rookie’s uniform the morning of inspection, with papers marching in parade format along the surface. As different from the cluttered bookstore as it could be.

  Somehow, the military precision gave him an uneasy feeling.

  “Tanner Jones!”

  At the sound of his former schoolteacher’s unmistakable voice, he cringed, just like in the old days when she’d caught him shooting spitballs.