2. Dazzled #2
It was true. We already had to suffer with a dirty congressman like Bruce Brewster, and now his son, Trevor, vied for the top law enforcement position running against Sheriff Patrick.
I had to commend the Sheriff on his speech, which focused on his record and how people could trust him to do the job he’s already been doing. Then he talked about his father, the former sheriff, whose murder was an unsolved mystery.
“New information has come to light that connects my father’s case to other incidents in this county. I am officially reopening the investigation. Reelect me as Sheriff, and Silver County will have justice. You can count on me for that,” he finished.
Daisy squeezed my hand, and we shared a look.
His words landed heavier than they might have a few months ago, because my sisters and I had been the ones to find our Dad’s old notebooks while cleaning out our attic, where some interesting journal entries came to light.
When she told the sheriff about them, he realized they could be clues to his father’s case.
For a moment, a shadow passed through Daisy’s eyes.
Most people might blink and not see it, but I was always very observant when it came to my sisters.
A shiver went down my spine along with the feeling that something else was going on.
Something she wasn’t admitting, but that was typical of her, always taking on everything alone, trying to be the strong one for us.
It had been a long fall, and a hard one in some respects.
At least the harvest had been good. The apple orchard had given us more than we’d hoped for, and for a while, that would be enough to steady us. But standing with her, I couldn’t help thinking how fragile it all could be.
The applause rose louder around us. Chris’s wife, famed country singer Nicoletta, took the stage next. Her voice was full of energy as she kicked off the celebration with her music, urging everyone onto the dance floor.
“Where’s your new cowboy?” Daisy asked.
“Carter went to get us drinks,” I said, trying—and failing—to sound casual. “I’m not sure he’s mine yet, but isn’t he cute? And that accent…” I fanned myself.
Daisy’s attention drifted, her gaze locking onto Knox across the pavilion. No matter how hard these two tried, they couldn’t hide their feelings for each other from the rest of us.
I nudged her shoulder gently. “Knox is right there. Go to him. You know you want to.”
She laughed, nervous and breathless, and I gave her a small push in his direction.
“Go, Daisy. Just… have fun.” I turned her words back on her. He met her halfway, like they’d both been circling this moment for months and were finally willing to accept the truth between them.
He wrapped his arms around her and swayed to the music. Ivy danced with Colt nearby. Poppy hung out with her college friends, flirting with some of the ranch hands. Maybe I needed to stop thinking something bad could happen and instead believe that things could turn out okay for us Wylde sisters.
Now, where was Carter? I’d love to teach him the finer points of two-stepping. A quick scan of the crowd, craning my neck toward the cider table, turned up no-one looking like the gorgeous cowboy.
He probably got roped into doing shots somewhere with the ODRR guys. I wouldn’t put it past these former military men to steal away somewhere for their own “refreshments.”
I roamed through the crowd for another fifteen minutes. Twenty. He could have gotten lost and couldn’t find his way back to me—or worse, distracted by another woman. By the time thirty minutes had passed, my excuses for him fell thin.
“Face it. He’s ghosted.” So much for thinking my luck had changed. I exhaled sharply and forced myself to stop looking.
“Sage, there you are.” The pastor’s wife caught me by the arm.
Pamela had teased platinum hair, perfectly plucked eyebrows, and bright lipstick, always looking ready for a Southern beauty pageant.
Transplanted to Montana after she met her husband in college, the Christian couple were well-regarded in town.
“Harper told me about the lavender bath oil you make. Do you think I could buy a few bottles of it for my church ladies? Christmas is around the corner and nothing would make me happier than to shop locally for them. I’ll take five bottles. ”
My hand flew to my heart. “Oh, but I’ve never sold?—”
“Wonderful. Sage will have those for you soon, Pam,” Harper appeared at my elbow suddenly. Pam grinned, satisfied, and moved on.
“Harper, I make things just for fun. Never sold a bottle in my life.” I turned on her, although tempered myself since she was both a friend and my boss and owner of the Copper Cup coffee shop.
“I know, but I had an idea when I was talking with Pam earlier about putting up a shelf of locally made art and products in the shop, what with Christmas coming and all,” she explained.
“And don’t worry, I’ll help you figure out pricing and such.
You just make up another batch and bring them into the shop as soon as you can.
Oh, I see my husband wants me by his side again.
This event has been just what his campaign needed leading up to next week’s election. ”
She rushed back into the arms of her tall sheriff, leaving me speechless.
When I started dabbling with my herbs and spices, I never imagined I’d sell anything. The possibilities kept me thinking, though, as I threw myself into helping wherever needed the rest of the night—refilling cider, adjusting decorations, encouraging people to dance.
Now and then, my eyes drifted, just in case Carter reappeared and I could give him a piece of my mind for leaving me hanging. Clearly, he wasn’t as interested in me as those butterflies in my stomach wanted to believe.