away, the chores were piling up. He’d promised to start working on putting up the tables for the holiday dinner. He’d not felt much holiday cheer at all since Bree died, but at least he was now able to enjoy his mother’s pleasure at the festivities hosted on the ranch.
Joe Hatcher operated his saddlery out of a small building set on his sprawling acreage. A thick cluster of oak trees and shrubs screened the workshop from the residence where Hatcher lived with his daughter, Emmaline.
Barrett did not know Hatcher’s ex-wife, Cora, well. Their families hadn’t socialized much and Hatcher’s divorce happened when Barrett was too steeped in Bree’s death to pay much attention to such things. He had to believe it was hard to raise a kid alone, especially a girl who would grow into a woman just as hard to figure out as any other of her kind. Women, Barrett mused. Who could possibly understand them?
Barrett was surprised to see another truck already parked in front, a familiar fully loaded model with shiny green paint.
Ken Arroyo’s vehicle.
Barrett debated whether or not to put his truck in Reverse and return another time. Instead he sucked in a breath as he heard loud voices coming from inside the saddlery. One was Joe Hatcher’s low rumble and the other a higher-pitched, feminine timbre, which made his breath catch. Shelby? She had not waited for the police to accompany her before she confronted Hatcher with her plan. Barrett groaned inwardly. Typical.
Chris Larraby pulled up in his police vehicle next to Barrett. He hastened from the car and entered the shop. Barrett hesitated only a moment longer before he followed Larraby in.
“You need to be reasonable,” Shelby was saying. She did a double take when she saw Barrett, but she did not move away from her position across the counter from Hatcher.
Hatcher looked anything but reasonable. His nostrils flared like an enraged bull’s. “Don’t care what your fancy papers say.”
“That’s why I asked Officer Larraby to come,” Shelby said, calmly.
“Sorry I was late,” Larraby said. “Something came up.”
“Gonna strong-arm me, Chris?” Hatcher said.
“Nothing like that, Joe, just calm down.”
Shelby shook her head. “I have a legal right to go in that mine and he’s here to see that you comply.”
“That right?” Hatcher said, staring at Larraby. “You gonna force me?”
“Let her do her thing,” Larraby said. “She’s within the law.”
“And if you interfere,” Shelby said, “you’re breaking it.” Her expression softened a bit. “Look, I don’t want to make this hard on you. I’m here to assess the mine. That’s all. That’s my job.”
Hatcher’s eyebrows drew together in a scowl. “And if you decide there’s gold worth mining down there, I have to let your uncle dig up my place?”
“That’s not my decision to make. I’m only a fact finder.”
“Well, find your facts somewhere else,” he snapped. “I’m not gonna let you snoop around my property.”
Shelby crossed her arms. “Why not, Mr. Hatcher? What are you so afraid that I will see?”
Time seemed to stop for a moment as the two locked eyes. Then Hatcher slammed a hand down on the counter. “I ain’t afraid. It’s the principle.”
But Barrett had seen the evidence and he knew Shelby had, too, the flash of emotion that darted across Joe Hatcher’s face. Fear. What was the source, Barrett wondered.
He felt a presence at his elbow and looked down at the petite Emmaline. The blond-haired woman was probably in her early twenties, yet she had the appearance of a teen. She chewed her lip, arms folded protectively around her, brown eyes wide.
Barrett nodded at her. “A little disagreement. Going to be okay.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I hate yelling.”
Probably heard a lot of that with Joe Hatcher for a father, Barrett figured.
Larraby’s radio crackled and he listened to the dispatcher for a moment. “I have to go. Let the lady on your property.”
“Now?” Hatcher demanded.
“Now.”
“That an order?”
“I don’t want to make it into one. Just do it.”
Shelby and Barrett followed Larraby out to his car. Emmaline trailed behind.
“Thank you, Officer,” Shelby said.
Larraby scowled. “Don’t thank me. I don’t like strangers coming into town and upsetting the locals. Personally, I would react the same way Joe is. Do what you need to do. Get in and get out.”
Shelby’s cheeks pinked, but she did not reply.
“Aren’t you going to stay in case things go bad?” Barrett said.
“Joe’s not going to do anything.” Larraby yanked open his car door. “And I’m a cop, not a babysitter.”
“This isn’t safe, with everything that’s happened,” Barrett growled.
“If you’re so concerned, you go with her.” He slammed the door and drove away.
Hatcher stalked out of the saddlery. His face was splotched with anger.
“Are you taking me to the mine entrance now, Mr. Hatcher?” Shelby asked.
He didn’t answer but his expression was murderous. He started up the gravel path that cut around the shop and into the trees. Rocks ground under his booted feet. He did not look back to see if Shelby was following.
“That’s the way to the mine,” Emmaline said, chewing her lip. “It’s hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
Shelby smiled and thanked the young woman. “You must be Emmaline. They told me in town you lived here with your dad. I’m sorry I’ve caused so much ruckus.”
“Daddy doesn’t like ruckus unless he’s the one causing it.” She sighed. “Better catch up with him if you want to find the mine. I would go with you to help but...” She shivered. “My mom used to explore all the time. She was kind of an amateur geologist, I think. I never liked it. It’s so lonely up there. There are strange sounds, and at night...” She shrugged.
“I’ll make sure I’m not here at night,” Shelby said with a gentle smile at Emmaline. “Thank you. I’ll go catch up with him.” She hurried after Hatcher.
Barrett tried to think of something to say to stop her, but he came up blank.
Emmaline eyed the saddles in Barrett’s truck. “Did you need those tended to, Mr. Thorn? If you bring them inside, I can write up your order.”
“Thanks.”
