“You fell off several times. This is mountainous country. If you go riding, carry a cell phone and make sure it’s charged,” he said seriously.
“I’d salaam, but I haven’t had my second cup of coffee yet,” she drawled, alluding to an old custom of subjects salaaming royalty.
“You heard me.”
“You don’t give orders to me in my own house,” she returned hotly.
Jeff cleared his throat.
They both looked at him.
“I have to get back to work,” he said as he pushed his chair back in. “Thanks for the coffee, Meadow. I’ll expect you early Monday morning.”
“Expect her?” Dal asked.
“She’s coming to work for me as my new investigator,” Jeff said with a bland smile.
Dal’s dark eyes narrowed. He saw through the man, whom he’d known since grammar school. Jeff was a good sheriff, but he wanted to add to his ranch. He owned property that adjoined Meadow’s. So did Dal. That acreage had abundant water, and right now water was the most important asset any rancher had. Meadow was obviously out of her depth trying to run a ranch. Her best bet was to sell it, so Jeff was getting in on the ground floor by offering her a job that would keep her close to him.
He saw all that, but he just smiled. “Good luck,” he told Jeff, with a dry glance at a fuming Meadow. “You’ll need it.”
“She’ll do fine,” Jeff said confidently.
Dal just smiled.
Meadow remembered that smile from years past. She’d had so many accidents when she was visiting her father. Dal was always somewhere nearby when they happened.
He didn’t like Meadow. He’d made his distaste for her apparent on every possible occasion. There had been a Christmas party thrown by the local cattlemen’s association when Meadow first started college. She’d come to spend Christmas with her father, and when he asked her to go to the party with him, she agreed.
She knew Dal would be there. So she wore an outrageous dress, even more revealing than the one he’d been so disparaging about when she was a senior in high school.
Sadly, the dress caught the wrong pair of eyes. A local cattleman who’d had five drinks too many had propositioned Meadow by the punch bowl. His reaction to her dress had flustered her and she tripped over her high-heeled shoes and knocked the punch bowl over.
The linen tablecloth was soaked. So was poor Meadow, in her outrageous dress. Dal Blake had laughed until his face turned red. So had most other people. Meadow had asked her father to drive her home. It was the last Christmas party she ever attended in Raven Springs.
But just before the punch incident, there had been another. Dal had been caught with her under the mistletoe . . .
She shook herself mentally and glared at Dal.
Chapter 2
Dal didn’t leave when Jeff did. He remained standing on the front porch, both hands in the pockets of his jeans.
“Where’s my cat?” he asked when Meadow was about to choke, holding back harsh words.
She paused and looked up at him. “Your cat?”
“My cat. Jarvis.” His upper lip curled. “Maine coon cat. Male. Red. Remember him? You should. He spends more time down here than he does at home!”
Jarvis. She grimaced. His cat came to visit frequently. He was in love with Meadow. He’d find a way to sneak in the house and perch on the back of her chair. He’d rub her head with his face and purr and try to sit in her lap. He weighed almost twenty pounds, and he was beautiful. His big bushy tail—reminiscent of a raccoon’s—was his finest feature. It was the trait that had prompted the breed’s name.
“I haven’t seen him today,” she confessed.
“A likely story.”
“I can prove it!”
She went back into the house, leaving him to follow. He unsettled her with that soft, easy step of his. She knew that he hunted elk and deer in the fall. He knew how to walk quietly. It was disconcerting when he did it in her house.