Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Daisy
I stood at the edge of the impressive new wood-and-iron-beam pavilion on the Off-Duty Ranch and took it all in, from the string lights running the full length of the open-air structure to the round tables draped in burlap and wildflowers.
People could also sit around on hay bales stacked along the perimeter.
A proper stage had been erected, prepared for the coming speeches, and Nicoletta’s four-piece country band tuned their instruments, working through final sound checks.
Food tables lined up in the back. Knox had told me that Eldon had spent all week baking pumpkin pies.
Harper had hired a slew of her daughter’s teenage friends to hand out spiced lattes left and right.
It was a perfect setup for late October.
Even the weather cooperated with a little chilly and sharp air, but everyone bundled up appropriately.
Crowds filled the pavilion and spilled out onto the surrounding grass.
All of Forest Grove must have turned out, cowboys in their good boots and their jeans and best snap shirts, women in dresses or casual jeans, plenty of flannel and sweaters to go around, too.
Most all-too happy to share their opinions about the sheriff’s election.
Ivy was in her element, our resident event planner, running around, barking last-minute orders. A group of college friends had kept hold of Poppy from the moment we arrived. I stood and watched it all unfold.
Everything would work out as long as the voting population of the town voted the Sheriff back into office, not Trevor. A lot rode on this for me, but today I was happier than usual. I chalked that up to Knox and being able to share my full self with someone at last.
Some deputies had been posted on horses here and there for safety.
The ODRR guys were everywhere tonight, helping direct parking, running the bar, and stationed at the edges.
Seemed there was always one no matter which direction I looked, dapper in their navy blue pearl-snap shirts and black jeans and black hats.
But it was the sight of Knox near the stage talking to Ash that I cared about.
He winked at me from afar. As usual, his attention knocked some butterflies about in my stomach.
Sage bounded up, two cups of hot apple cider in hand, offering me one.
She had done something different with her hair tonight, keeping her chestnut locks down and soft around her face.
Her usual glasses she’d traded for contacts, which created an entirely different version of herself.
A prettier one, not that the original lacked anything. A bold red lipstick finished her look.
“Thanks. Ready to dance tonight?” I peered down at our boots, new and fancy ones that Ivy had provided, coordinated with our outfits.
Her “best form of advertising” for the shop, she called us.
I’d gone at first for the turquoise ones, but Sage begged me to switch.
So I ended up with red leather and dark red stitching, some sparkles on them, too.
It didn’t clash with my ivory turtleneck sweater at all.
She stood beside me and surveyed the crowd. “Sure. Let’s get this over with.” She rolled her eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I went to all the Cowboy Nights and didn’t find a single cowboy that caught my attention long enough to care,” she lamented. “All of the guys around here are the same. Rugged cowboys. I guess I’m looking for… something different.”
“It takes time to find the right one. You can’t force it. You’re young, enjoy your time while you can. I’ll bet when you stop trying, you’ll meet someone,” I offered my best advice. What would Mom have said?
Ivy appeared in a rush. “Ladies, I want to introduce you to someone new in town, who just moved here to work at the Off-Duty Ranch. His name is Carter.”
“Okay. Where is he?” Sage asked, not a cowboy in sight around us that we didn’t know.
“I’ll bring him by. He’s a little green with horses, apparently, which is going to be a real problem for him, given where he works. I thought maybe you could give him some advice.”
“You want me to give a stranger horse advice at a barn dance? Sounds more like Daisy’s job.”
“Yeah, but Daisy and Knox, er...” Ivy stopped when I shook my head, not admitting a thing. “Well, I really think he’s more suited for you, Sage,” she attempted to be the matchmaker, and the dance hadn’t even gotten started.
“I hate being set up. You know that,” she retorted. “Besides, I’ve sworn off cowboys as of this minute. Unless he’s charming to look at and different from most around here, don’t bother.”
“Hm. I’ll be right back.” Ivy hurried away.
I peered at how Sage’s contacts turned her eyes even brighter green, and with the hair down and the lipstick? It’d be a great night for her to catch someone’s eye.
“Look at you. You’re gorgeous, smart, and have a good head on your shoulders. You have so much to offer the right guy. Tonight is a good night to be young and have fun.” I continued to layer on anything that Mom might have said to bolster her spirits.
Before she could respond, Ivy returned, pulling a man along with her. “Carter, meet my sisters, Daisy and Sage.”
Uh. Wow. If Sage was tired of rugged cowboys, what would she think of this gorgeous man?
He turned out to be tall, fit, and handsome with a chiseled jawline, wearing a cowboy hat in a way that if he’d take off his fitted shirt and danced around, gyrating his hips, flexing his abs, the women might all swoon.
Clean-shaven, more college preppy than Montana-grown, if I had to guess, the only thing separating him from being called a male model were the glasses he pushed up his nose.
“Very nice to meet you both.” He had manners. His deep voice resonated, with no cowboy twang at all. In fact, I detected almost a British accent but couldn’t be certain. A Northerner, if I had to guess? What the heck was he doing here posing as a cowboy?
Ivy left him with us and scooted away. Sage licked her lips and eyed him with the peculiar expression of a scientist observing a fascinating result.
“Well, hello Carter. Do you ride horses?” I started the conversation when she hadn’t spoken yet.
“Of course. I spent some time at camps—uh, camp, camping. Very familiar. Do I catch the scent of lavender and thyme?” He asked.
Sage perked up. “Maybe. I like to work with herbs and spices. I make this lavender oil for the bath for my sisters and me, straight from what I grow in our garden.”
“Ah. Botany… plants lately?” He wiggled his brows.
Sage cracked up. “Of course. Don’t kale my vibe.”
He chuckled with her, rich and dark, his eyes lighting on her fast, flicking down to her chest and back up.
I blinked and stared, speechless, uncertain what I was watching here.
Five minutes later, bored to tears by their sudden deep mutual admiration for all things botanical, complete with another joke he told involving latin names for our apple trees when he learned we had an orchard, I stepped back and left them to it.
Apple trees I could handle, but other flora and fauna I left to Sage, the one with the green thumb in the family.
Well, it appeared she got her wish for someone… different. I glanced at them both one last time, Sage and the GQ-level yet awkward cowboy, and silently wished them well.
I lost sight of Knox as I waded through the crowd, saying hello to so many people. My high school band instructor and his wife. Our family doctor. And so many others, until finally Chris Magnus took the small stage, which quieted the Pavilion for the first time all night.
He crossed to the podium with a way about him that commanded the room.
A former navy doctor turned rancher, provider of two havens for horses at the ranch here and his first ranch out east, who, despite his money, people seemed to respect the hell out of whenever he was in town.
Broad-shouldered, and smart, and charming, he had the particular credibility of a man who’d put his money into something meaningful.
“Thank you for attending tonight. Can’t tell you how much it means to me and my family to see so many faces here.
This county took a chance on us when we set up the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch,” he started.
“Sheriff Patrick was one of the first people to shake my hand when we got here. He’s proven to us repeatedly that he is capable of seeking justice and keeping the law in this county.
I’m pleased to report that the latest poll figures in the county newspaper shows the Sheriff way ahead by a wide margin in favor of winning.
That’s why I give my full support to the sheriff, and I hope you’ll help us re-elect him in November.
And now, the man of the hour—please welcome Sheriff Gavin Patrick. ”
The applause was immediate and genuine; the crowd whistled and hollered for their favorite candidate.
Sheriff Patrick took the stage. He was not a man who made speeches for the pleasure of it. He stood at the microphone with his hat in his hands, working the felt in a circle around the brim.
“I’ll keep this short,” he said. “Most of you know why we’re here. You know what kind of sheriff I’ve tried to be for this county and what kind I intend to keep being. I won’t stand up here and make promises. My record does that for me.”
A sound of agreement and “here-here” waved through the crowd.
“What I am going to do is tell you something that some of you have been hoping for a long time to hear.”
People hung on his every word.