cap. “Thanks for your help.”
Aaron slammed the hood closed and, wiping his hands on the rag, started for his vehicle. “You be careful, you hear?” He stopped and flashed her a smile.
She didn’t return it.
Reaching his SUV, he sat behind the wheel and waited for her to pull ahead. Once she had, he radioed in, giving an update and advising the other deputies to keep a lookout for her. That accomplished, he executed a second U-turn and made for the Sanford place.
Even though the girl’s name and license plate had checked out, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was exactly what Aaron had warned Mel to watch for: a stranger in an unfamiliar vehicle. The idea that a slip of a girl was involved with horse rustlers seemed preposterous. Appearances, however, were deceiving and something thieves might use to their advantage.
Turning onto the Sanford’s private road, he recalled the young woman removing her ball cap and nearly slammed on the brakes. That was it! The reason she’d looked familiar to him. Her physical description was almost an exact duplicate of Mel’s. Blond hair. Brown eyes. Five foot two in her boots. They even had a similar small cleft in their chins.
What were the odds of that?
“Over here. Another three feet. Wait. No. Up against the wall.” Frankie Hartman barked orders in her customary bossy voice.
Mel exchanged looks with her younger sister, Ronnie. As if on cue, they both rolled their eyes and shuffled the table to the exact spot their older sister wanted. Which, it turned out, wasn’t so exact.
“Centered beneath the window.” Frankie motioned with her hands to demonstrate.
After two more shuffles with the table, Mel and Ronnie were released from their task and instructed to undertake another. There was still a lot to do before the party started at six, including all the decorating.
Mel had brought streamers, a banner, party favors, confetti and a case of champagne. Ronnie’s job had been to create a photo collage depicting their father’s life from birth to now. Frankie brought the barbecued beef, a family favorite and her specialty dish.
The owner of the Cowboy Up Café, and Frankie’s employer, had been kind enough to let them use the covered outdoor patio free of charge. With its built-in misting system, the patio was reasonably comfortable even in ninety-plus-degree temperatures.
The sisters were grateful. With several dozen people expected to attend, they’d definitely needed a large venue, equipped to feed so many mouths. And as if the location wasn’t perfect enough, the owner was giving them a discount on the side dishes and beverages.
“Napkins!” Frankie ripped open packages as if the success of the party depended on guests being able to wipe barbecue sauce off their faces and hands.
Mel and Ronnie took their sister’s theatrics in stride. Besides being the oldest of the Hartman sisters and a single mother, she was the Cowboy Up Café’s head waitress and self-appointed organizer of their dad’s party. She’d also stepped in—to the best of her twelve-year-old ability—when the sisters’ mother had died over twenty years ago in a horse riding accident. “We’re here,” a high-pitched voice trilled. “Sorry we’re late.”
Mel’s stepmom was accompanied by two very excited little girls: Frankie’s twin daughters.
“We got balloons,” Paige announced.
“And string,” Sienna added, holding up her booty.
They were dressed alike in matching shorts and tees but were as different as night and day in personalities and features. Tiny, fair-haired Paige took after the Hartmans while tall, doe-eyed Sienna resembled her father, who wasn’t and had never been in the picture.
“You wait until Mommy can help,” Frankie called from the chair on which she stood, hanging the Happy Birthday banner with Ronnie’s assistance.
Mel went over to the girls and scooped them both into her arms. They squirmed and giggled and squealed, loving the attention while pretending not to.
“Let us go,” they protested.
“Kisses first.”
The girls gleefully obliged.
“Can I help?” Mel asked. Blowing up balloons and taping them to the backs of chairs sounded more fun than laboriously writing out name tags.
“No scissors,” Dolores admonished.
Mel relieved her stepmom of the plastic sack and small helium tank she’d carried in. “Does that apply to me, too?”
“Depends. They’re sharp.” Dolores wagged a finger at her. “Can I trust you?”
“We’ll be careful.” Mel winked at the girls and then led them to one of the tables where they set up a balloon inflation station.
“Me first,” Paige insisted.
Mel distributed a package of colorful balloons to each girl while keeping the scissors for herself. “Remember to share and take turns.”
Ha! Like that was going to happen.
Of course, the pair was more trouble than help, but that didn’t matter. They were having a blast. Mel, too.
As luck would have it, Dolores excelled at writing name tags, and between the four of them, the room quickly took shape. Then again, they were old pros, having done this before. Most recently, they’d organized a wedding reception—for Ray Hartman and his new bride.
Ronnie came to stand beside Mel, having finished with bringing in extra chairs from the storeroom. “This is going to sound terrible.”
“What?” Mel asked.
“Is it wrong to miss Mom today?”
“No. Of course not. It’s Dad’s birthday. A milestone birthday.”
“I mean, Dolores is wonderful. I adore her.”
“Me, too.” Mel didn’t think there was a more perfect stepmom around.
Ronnie linked arms with her. “Sometimes, I have trouble remembering Mom. I hate that.”
“We were young. Don’t feel bad. It happens.” Mel surveyed the room. “I think she’d approve of this party. I also think she’d like Dolores.”
“She’d be proud of us,” Ronnie said with conviction. “And of how Dad always supported us. You know the date of their anniversary was one of the numbers Dad used for his lottery tickets.”
Mel laughed. “And to think we gave him such grief for buying tickets every week like clockwork.”
“None of us ever thought he’d win.”
But, then, he had. Last winter. The amount of the jackpot wasn’t staggering, about two hundred thousand
