mixture of relief, guilt and compassion. And part of him wished that he could escape up the stairs as well.
“I’m going to drag him down here by his ears, if I have to,” Pilar declared, starting up the stairs.
“Unconditional love?” Colt threw back at her, and when he saw a shaft of pain in her eyes, said a little more softly, “Let him go.”
She started up the first few steps. “But he just swore and disrespected me and you, and he never uses foul language—”
“Give him a little time to get used to things.”
“I’m getting married in a week!”
“It’s not a deadline for Rourke, though. You and Dad are in the all-fired rush to get married. Give the kid a break. And, if he doesn’t want to see me this trip, I’ll come back some other time.”
Pilar paused on the landing and crossed her arms over her breasts. With an angry glance cast to the second floor she said, “Look, Colt, I’m not going to let my son swear like one of Ira’s cowhands.”
“ Our son,” Colton reminded her as somewhere upstairs a door slammed so hard the timbers of the house shook and Montana gave out a startled little woof.
“I did not raise that boy to be defiant!”
“He’s eleven. You hit him with some pretty big news. And there’s plenty more attitude just around the corner.”
“Not from my son.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Doesn’t run in the Dillinger family. Or with you, for that matter. I’ll bet you gave your mother fits as a teenager.” She glared at him as he added, “Sometimes, you just have to back off a little, Pilar,” then picked up his duffel bag and whistled for Montana to come.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Looking for a place to stay.”
“But you can stay here. I’ll have Janice get one of the guest suites ready.”
“Nope.” Colton shouldered his bag and headed toward the door, his boots finding their way across the familiar planks of the floor. “Wherever I bunk, the dog goes, too.”
Chapter Eight
Seven o’clock on a Friday night, and Sam had to hustle to stop into the downtown shops before they closed. This time of year, Main Street wasn’t exactly bustling after dark, even though his department was working overtime due to being short staffed, two more deputies down with the flu. That’s why he, after his regular shift, was braving the cold in the streets of the town, helping pass out flyers, despite the work piling up on his desk and computer. He caught Hub Booman at the cleaner’s and Aura Calo at the bookstore just as they were closing. The barbershop, pizza place and realtor’s office had come next. He’d been lucky to be able to hand off the flyer to Cal in the flower shop; Sally would have held him captive in conversation for half an hour.
By the time he headed toward Molly’s he had covered most of the merchants and he was bone weary. Tomorrow morning, with hopefully a full crew, he’d get one of his deputies to hit the daytime businesses, like the bank and the feed-and-seed shop.
A blast of warm air carried the scent of fresh baked rolls and roasted meat as he opened the door. It smelled good. Classic rock was playing on the jukebox, and the dinner crowd was tucking into plates of fried chicken, roast beef and gravy, or the Friday spaghetti feed.
Sam went straight to the bulletin board by the door and tacked up one of the flyers. MISSING—AMBER BARSTOW. The e-mailed photo from the young woman’s parents had printed up nice and clear, her dark hair shining, her smile carefree and giddy.
If only that photo could speak. Tell him where she was. Already she’d been missing more than a week, and Sam didn’t like the idea that she’d been last seen here in Prairie Creek. It was his responsibility to find her, and he didn’t think he’d sleep a wink until that happened.
But he needed to eat, and he wouldn’t mind spreading the alarm about Amber in person. In Prairie Creek, that meant putting the word out at Molly’s Diner.
The stools at
“I’m going to drag him down here by his ears, if I have to,” Pilar declared, starting up the stairs.
“Unconditional love?” Colt threw back at her, and when he saw a shaft of pain in her eyes, said a little more softly, “Let him go.”
She started up the first few steps. “But he just swore and disrespected me and you, and he never uses foul language—”
“Give him a little time to get used to things.”
“I’m getting married in a week!”
“It’s not a deadline for Rourke, though. You and Dad are in the all-fired rush to get married. Give the kid a break. And, if he doesn’t want to see me this trip, I’ll come back some other time.”
Pilar paused on the landing and crossed her arms over her breasts. With an angry glance cast to the second floor she said, “Look, Colt, I’m not going to let my son swear like one of Ira’s cowhands.”
“ Our son,” Colton reminded her as somewhere upstairs a door slammed so hard the timbers of the house shook and Montana gave out a startled little woof.
“I did not raise that boy to be defiant!”
“He’s eleven. You hit him with some pretty big news. And there’s plenty more attitude just around the corner.”
“Not from my son.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Doesn’t run in the Dillinger family. Or with you, for that matter. I’ll bet you gave your mother fits as a teenager.” She glared at him as he added, “Sometimes, you just have to back off a little, Pilar,” then picked up his duffel bag and whistled for Montana to come.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Looking for a place to stay.”
“But you can stay here. I’ll have Janice get one of the guest suites ready.”
“Nope.” Colton shouldered his bag and headed toward the door, his boots finding their way across the familiar planks of the floor. “Wherever I bunk, the dog goes, too.”
Chapter Eight
Seven o’clock on a Friday night, and Sam had to hustle to stop into the downtown shops before they closed. This time of year, Main Street wasn’t exactly bustling after dark, even though his department was working overtime due to being short staffed, two more deputies down with the flu. That’s why he, after his regular shift, was braving the cold in the streets of the town, helping pass out flyers, despite the work piling up on his desk and computer. He caught Hub Booman at the cleaner’s and Aura Calo at the bookstore just as they were closing. The barbershop, pizza place and realtor’s office had come next. He’d been lucky to be able to hand off the flyer to Cal in the flower shop; Sally would have held him captive in conversation for half an hour.
By the time he headed toward Molly’s he had covered most of the merchants and he was bone weary. Tomorrow morning, with hopefully a full crew, he’d get one of his deputies to hit the daytime businesses, like the bank and the feed-and-seed shop.
A blast of warm air carried the scent of fresh baked rolls and roasted meat as he opened the door. It smelled good. Classic rock was playing on the jukebox, and the dinner crowd was tucking into plates of fried chicken, roast beef and gravy, or the Friday spaghetti feed.
Sam went straight to the bulletin board by the door and tacked up one of the flyers. MISSING—AMBER BARSTOW. The e-mailed photo from the young woman’s parents had printed up nice and clear, her dark hair shining, her smile carefree and giddy.
If only that photo could speak. Tell him where she was. Already she’d been missing more than a week, and Sam didn’t like the idea that she’d been last seen here in Prairie Creek. It was his responsibility to find her, and he didn’t think he’d sleep a wink until that happened.
But he needed to eat, and he wouldn’t mind spreading the alarm about Amber in person. In Prairie Creek, that meant putting the word out at Molly’s Diner.
The stools at
Similar Books
