the dog dropped the slobber-coated bird at Chaz’s feet, the chicken jerking to its feet unhurt. The boy grabbed the bird and tossed it back in the shed.
“See the problem?” Chaz said. “I took one back when Prince brought it home. I didn’t know he was going back last night to get them all.”
Nick stared at the dog. “Are you trying to tell me that Prince stole the chickens?”
Chaz nodded. “I told him not to, but Prince likes to collect things.” The boy shrugged. “It’s his only bad habit. Other than that, he’s a really good dog.”
Prince was leaning against the boy’s leg, looking up at him. Chaz patted the dog’s big head. The dog’s tongue lolled. He could have been smiling.
Nick swore, pulled off his hat and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ve got to tell you. I don’t know much about transporting chickens. I’d consider any idea you might have on how to get them back in Mrs. Miller’s chicken coop.”
“I’ve been thinking on it,” Chaz said. “I might have an idea.”
TWO HOURS LATER, ALL NINETEEN chickens were safely back in Mrs. Miller’s chicken coop. Nick left Chaz on the Millers’ porch eating fresh-baked apple pie and sipping a large glass of milk, Prince at his feet. Chaz had promised to keep a closer eye on his dog.
Nick was feeling good. He’d solved his first mystery in Montana. With a little help from a kid and a dog.
Back at his office, he was hoping the rest of his shift would be as uneventful when he looked up and saw a young reddish-blond woman get out of her car. As she started toward his office, another car raced up, tires screeching as the driver came to a stop and rolled down his window.
The woman turned. Clearly, the two knew each other. Nick watched from his window, not liking the change in the woman’s demeanor when she saw the young man behind the wheel. Nick had covered enough domestic-violence cases to recognize one on the street.
The woman said something to the man, who appeared to be about her age, no more than twenty, then she turned and started walking toward the sheriff’s department again.
The man threw open his door and went after her, grabbing her arm and swinging her around to face him.
Nick shot out of his chair, hitting the door at a run. As he exited the courthouse building, he heard the raised voices.
“Let go of her,” Nick said in his calm cop voice.
“This isn’t any of your business,” the young man said. He had brown hair, brown eyes, classic good looks.
“Let go of her,” Nick repeated.
The young man did, but with obvious reluctance and definitely an attitude. “I’m not breaking any law.”
“Domestic abuse is against the law,” Nick said.
“Domestic abuse?” The young man scoffed at that. “My girlfri—fiancée and I were just having a little private disagreement.”
The young woman was rubbing her arm where the man had grabbed her. “He’s right. It’s nothing.”
“Why don’t you step inside and we can talk about it,” Nick said to the woman.
She shook her head, eyes wide. “It’s nothing, really.”
“You were headed for my office. There must be something you wanted.”
“I wasn’t. That is, I was going up to the treasury department upstairs. I got turned around.” She was lying and Nick could see that she was afraid.
“What’s your name?” he asked the young man.
“Bo Evans.” He said it as if it should mean something. It didn’t to Nick.
“You live around here?”
“Old Town Whitehorse.” Bo was giving him an are-you-stupid look. “You’re not from around here, huh?”
“What’s your name?” Nick asked the woman.
She hesitated. “Maddie Cavanaugh.”
She was edging toward her car. “I have to get to work,” she said.
“Where do you work?” Nick asked.
Maddie Cavanaugh looked around as if searching for an answer. “In Old Town Whitehorse. I just help Geraldine Shaw out.”
Nick nodded and turned to Bo Evans. “Disagreements are one thing, but you were scaring your fiancée. Keep your hands off her when you’re angry, okay?”
Bo Evans shook his head as if in disbelief. “I wouldn’t hurt Maddie. I love her. We’re getting married. What is wrong with you, man?”
Nick watched them leave in separate cars, worried about the young woman. Whatever she’d been planning to tell someone at the sheriff’s office, her fiancé had done a good job of changing her mind.
Chapter Three
Laney Cavanaugh saw him as she came out of the hospital. He stood across the street talking to her grandfather Titus.
She wasn’t sure what it was about the man that caught her attention let alone held it as she crossed the street. He wore jeans and boots, a tan short-sleeved shirt and a cowboy hat. Nothing unusual about that in Whitehorse, Montana.
He had one boot sole resting on the bumper of Titus’s pickup truck and was leaning forward, listening intently. She tried to imagine what her grandfather might be saying that would require that kind of attention as she crossed the street.
It wasn’t until she was almost to the pair that the sun glinted off the man’s silver star and she realized that the tan shirt was actually part of a uniform.
“Laney, I want you to meet the town’s new deputy sheriff, Nick Rogers,” Titus said. “This is my granddaughter Laney Cavanaugh.”
She smiled and extended her hand, which quickly disappeared into the lawman’s large sun-browned one. His handshake was firm, his skin warm and dry. His dark-eyed gaze made the already hot day sizzle. She sensed that odd expectation in the air that she’d felt earlier as if she wasn’t the only one holding her breath.
“I was just telling Nick that you and your sister are staying out at my daughter’s place,” Titus said. “Nick’s new to the area. I’m sure it’s all a bit strange after Houston.”
“I’m adjusting,” he said, never taking his eyes off Laney. He had the kind of face that she’d thought only existed in the movies. Rugged and yet as handsome as any she’d ever seen, with dark hair and eyes. But it was the way he stood, his head cocked to one side, an air of confidence about him, that drew her like a moth to a flame.
“I told Nick we’d have to get him back down our way for dinner sometime,” Titus said.
“He should come to the party,” Laci said, coming up behind them. She’d hung back to give their grandmother’s nurses
