Chapter Two
E mily Stratton bent to stroke Lobo’s head. The black German shepherd’s fur was soft, and he leaned into her touch. That small sign that the bond between them was strong made her smile. He had come so far since he’d first landed with Chance Rafferty out at his military dog rescue, They Also Serve .
It had been Chief Highwater who had first suggested they take him on.
Chance had taken in the dog who had landed on the hopeless list, the ones deemed unsuitable or unsafe for a return to civilian life.
She didn’t know exactly what Chance’s success rate was with these dogs the military he’d served in for years had written off, but she knew it was pretty high.
“Each dog is an individual,” he’d told her in the beginning. “And if you handle them that way, most of them will respond. It might involve giving them a place to hide when they’re edgy, or running them until they’re too tired to care, but there’s almost always a way.”
Emily admired the man tremendously, especially knowing that he’d founded the nonprofit in honor of his own MWD who hadn’t come home.
He’d had a powerful bond with the dog and had planned to adopt him when the animal was retired.
But shortly after Chance had left the service, the dog had died overseas saving his new handler’s life.
The chief had known Emily had helped promote a couple of fundraisers Chance’s wife, Ariel, had set up, so he’d come to her with the idea of taking on a dog at the department.
They then talked to Chance, who had agreed to work with them on it.
It had taken a while to find a suitable animal, but when Lobo had arrived, Chance had contacted them saying he had a possible.
So she and the chief had gone out to the Rafferty ranch, and she had promptly fallen in love.
And thankfully, it appeared to go both ways.
“Well, well,” Chance had said with a grin that sometimes still startled people who had known the taciturn, withdrawn man he’d been before Ariel had come along. “He’s a lady’s man. Never would have guessed.”
They had worked together with the dog for several months before Chance had pronounced him civilized and ready to go. And Emily’s life had changed for the better, the dog filling a gap she hadn’t even realized was there.
Now she stroked Lobo’s head once more as they stood a block away, watching the kids leaving the elementary school.
There had been a couple of recent transplants from Austin who had had to make up some classes in summer school.
They had been causing a bit of trouble, and bullying the younger kids.
Lobo didn’t like bullies, and neither did she.
So she had made it a habit to be in the area when the summer session let out.
She spotted another recent transplant—although not one of the troublemakers—coming out of the main building.
This one made her smile. It made everybody in Last Stand smile to see the son of their most famous new resident.
Famous in Hollywood terms anyway. But they didn’t hold that against Jackson Thorpe, not as hard as he’d worked to become part of Last Stand, never using his status, in fact mostly ignoring it.
And she especially liked the thing with the hat.
That he’d refused to wear a cowboy hat when he’d first arrived, because he didn’t feel like playing a cowboy on TV made him one.
That had endeared him to all the Last Stand residents who felt the same way.
So much that when he’d opened Thorpe’s Therapy Horses , to do for other bereaved kids what learning to ride had done for his own son, there had been a formal presentation of one of Yippee Ki Yay’s best sellers, along with the recognition that he’d now earned it.
She’d been a little surprised that the boy wasn’t going to the private school on Hillbend, where his aunt worked, but maybe they’d thought it would be a problem, him having family on staff.
She kind of admired that. And Jackson seemed so darned…
normal, Emily guessed it made sense he’d want his son raised as normally as possible.
She went suddenly on alert when two of the troublemakers she watched for appeared on the front steps. They walked over to where young Jeremy Thorpe was waiting, looking around as if searching for someone. Whoever was going to pick him up, she guessed, since he wasn’t over in the line for the bus.
She held her place, watching. When the two older boys, who were a good foot taller than Jeremy, split and stood on each side of him, her radar went off.
She had to weigh the situation quickly. Sometimes with kids, intervening directly only made things worse for the victim afterward.
Especially if he was already being noticed for the simple fact of who his father was.
She’d been through this once with Elena’s son, Marcos, who, because his brain worked a little differently, had taken a lot of heat from the same type of kid as these two.
Of course now that didn’t happen, in part because his mother was Elena Highwater now, having married Detective Sean Highwater, and because Sean had spent a lot of time teaching little Marcos—who wasn’t so little anymore—how to fight back.
When the biggest of the two bigger boys leaned over and said something to Jeremy that made him try to step away, she had to move.
She decided quickly, cuing Lobo to heel.
The dog immediately fell into place beside her.
Only a few steps after they’d begun to move the same boy who had threatened Jeremy—and she knew that’s what it was, by the look on the younger boy’s face—noticed them coming.
Once she was sure of that, she whispered another command to Lobo, and the big dog let out a trumpeting bark.
Both older kids backed away as if they’d been shoved.
She waved and gave a casual smile, as if she and the big black shepherd were just out for a stroll.
“Afternoon, boys,” she called out, acting as if they were going to keep walking.
And in fact she did, just far enough to see the two older ones scamper off around the corner of the main school building.
Once they were out of sight, she turned back.
Jeremy Thorpe was still on the steps, staring at her.
She’d first met him at the ribbon-cutting ceremony at the therapy barn.
The boy had been so excited it had been infectious.
And happy, as she gathered he hadn’t been in a long time, ever since his mother had been tragically killed in that accident back in L.A.
She noticed he felt no need to dodge away as they approached. In fact, he seemed fascinated, as many kids were, with Lobo.
“You okay, Jeremy?”
He nodded, giving her a glance before looking back at the dog. She gave the dog the signal to sit, and relax. The big black dog did so immediately.
“This is Lobo,” she said. “Lobo, this is Jeremy. He’s a good guy.”
The dog lifted a paw out to the boy, who immediately took it to shake, grinning now. “He makes me think of Mr. Chance’s dogs,” Jeremy said.
“Well, that’s because he was one,” she said.
The boy’s eyes widened. “So was my dog. Maverick. Only he’s gold.”
“I heard about that. He found you in that big storm, didn’t he?”
Jeremy nodded enthusiastically. “He saved me. And Mr. Chance let me keep him. He said Maverick picked me, and you can’t argue when a dog picks his human.”
She laughed. “That sounds like Chance.”
And it did. Chance Rafferty had a rather unique way of looking at things. She was very glad fate had conspired to give him the kind of love and life he deserved, finally. It made her feel a little wistful, but that was only because her own personal life was darn near a desert.
“Are you waiting for someone?” she asked.
The boy nodded. “My uncle T. He’s supposed to pick me up today. He just got here last night. On an airplane.”
She smiled. “Faster than driving.” She didn’t know where the uncle was coming from, but if it was outside of central Texas her statement was a fact.
“He was gonna be right here when I got out. He got here late, and I was already asleep. We’re going to do some fun stuff, to make up for me having to go to summer school. Even if it is only three days a week.”
Her smile widened. “So you’re close to your uncle?”
“He’s the best,” the boy said simply.
“I’m glad. Everybody should have an uncle like that.”
“Do you?” the boy asked.
“I do,” she said. “My uncle Chuck. He’s a hoot—always up for crazy things. He went to Alaska last year, just to see it and camp out in the snow.”
“Cool!”
“Very. Cold, even,” she said solemnly.
It took a moment for the boy to get it, but he did and laughed. Emily felt a new tension in Lobo, not an alert but what she’d learned was more of an awareness signal.
She was about to look around for what had caught the dog’s attention when Jeremy shifted his gaze to behind her and yelped, “Uncle T! Over here!”
She turned, and as was second nature now, assessed the man striding toward them.
Tall, at least six foot, muscular, dark hair under a black cowboy hat that looked well worn, maybe a day’s worth of dark stubble, explained no doubt by the travel day, since he didn’t seem to be the type who would choose it as a style statement.
And what the heck do you know? You haven’t even met him yet.
But even as she thought it her brow was furrowing. She hadn’t met him before, had she? So why did he seem…familiar?
“Uncle T, I was afraid you forgot me.”
The man covered the last three steps in a single stride and grabbed Jeremy and practically tossed him up onto his broad shoulders.
“I would never forget you, buddy. I just got lost.”
“That’s Lobo,” Jeremy said, pointing at the dog who was up on his feet now, but in an unthreatening manner, apparently having taken his lead from the boy’s response. It was still a learning curve with her and Lobo—her learning him more than the other way around—but so far, it was working perfectly.
“And she’s one of Chief Shane’s people.” Kids always had permission to call the chief that, and it always made her smile when she heard it. “She made some bullies leave me alone.”
He turned then to look at her, and she couldn’t miss how bright and blue his eyes were, and thickly—unfairly—lashed. And he still looked familiar.
“Then I owe you thanks.” His gaze flicked to the name badge over her left chest pocket. “Officer Stratton,” he added with a polite nod. Then, with a glance down at Lobo, asked in apparent seriousness, “Is Officer Lobo the correct way to acknowledge you?”
“Just Lobo will do,” she said, smothering a laugh. But she had to admit she liked the way he spoke to the dog with respect.
“Nice to meet you, Lobo.”
The dog’s tail wagged slightly, but she noticed he didn’t reach out as most people would to pet him. But he did glance at her questioningly, and she couldn’t resist. “I believe the tail wag means you may pet him.”
A sudden grin flashed across the man’s face, and for a moment she seemed to forget to breathe. Then he leaned down to stroke the black fur, and she had herself in hand by the time he straightened up.
Lobo looked at her, and she said, “Friend.”
The dog held up a paw, and with another of those killer grins the man took it and gently shook.
“How’d you get lost, Uncle T?” Jeremy asked.
She would have expected the man to be embarrassed, but instead he just grinned again. It had the same effect on her.
“I didn’t bother to check a map,” he admitted. “I figured if I could find my way around L.A. I could find my way around Last Stand. I kind of forgot about no street signs out in the hills, and the ‘you gotta know where you’re going to get there’ philosophy.”
She found the honest admission rather charming.
Most guys she ran into would never admit something as simple as they’d gotten lost. But she was curious.
He didn’t have the air she associated with the L.A.
folks she’d run into. That hat was well used for what it was intended, and so were the dark brown cowboy boots he was wearing.
“You’re from L.A.?” she asked.
“Not far enough, at the moment,” he said, and there was a sour undertone to his voice. But it vanished when he smiled again and said, “It wasn’t hot enough in L.A., so I figured I’d come home.”
Home? That would explain the slight accent she’d heard. “You’re from here?”
“Not Last Stand. I grew up in Amarillo.”
Amarillo. It hit her then, with the force of a blow. She stared at him, afraid she was gaping but unable to help it. Nor could she stop the shock from creeping into her voice.
“You’re Tucker Culhane!”