Chapter One

Jace Dalton’s job as Mill County sheriff didn’t ordinarily entail chasing hundreds of goats off the road. But here he was, running across a two-lane highway, waving his hat in the air, herding livestock as traffic came to a standstill.

Rush hour in Dry Creek.

It would’ve been funny if he wasn’t in a hurry. He was already ten minutes late for a state-of-the-ranch meeting with his two cousins and his cousin-in-law at the coffee shop for breakfast.

A pickup truck pulled past the line of stopped vehicles. Jace feared the driver was about to speed through the bottleneck. Goats be damned. But then the pickup veered over to the shoulder and a kid of about nineteen bounded out of the truck.

“Sorry, Sheriff,” he called as he joined Jace in chasing the goats off the road. “They must’ve gotten loose.”

Ya think?

“We had them over at the Lloyd place, clearing brush. They probably got through an opening in the fence.”

The Lloyds’ fencing was sketchy at best.

“I hope you’ve got someone over there fixing it. Otherwise, they’ll just get out again.” The kid didn’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed.

“My dad’s there now. And my brothers are on the way.”

Just then, another pickup with a livestock trailer slid in next to the kid’s and two beefy-looking fellows lumbered out with a pair of Australian shepherds. Between the four of them and the dogs, they got the goats safely back to the Lloyds’ property, which was less than a quarter mile away.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” One of the beefy guys shook Jace’s hand. “It won’t happen again, sir.”

Jace hoofed it back to his truck, saw that traffic was flowing smoothly again, and headed into town. By the time he got to the coffee shop, Cash, Sawyer, and Tuff were mopping up the last of their eggs with Jimmy Ray’s homemade biscuits.

“Where you been?” Cash pulled out the chair next to him.

Jace plopped down. “It’s a long story. Hand me the coffee, would you?”

Sawyer reached over to the coffee station, snagged the pot off the warmer, and poured Jace a cup. They’d been coming to the coffee shop their whole lives and made themselves at home here. Laney was busy waiting on another table anyway. She and Jimmy Ray owned the restaurant and were as good as family.

“I presume you started the meeting without me.” Jace took a sip from his mug. He had a feeling he was going to need the whole pot before the morning was over. Besides the goat fiasco, Grady had missed the bus this morning and Jace had to drive him to school. That was after his eldest, Travis, who was home from college, had woken up covered in poison oak. At least Charlie, Jace’s wife, was handling that situation.

“We’re solid,” Sawyer said. “Cash went over the books, and it looks like this year Dry Creek Village is on the road to profitability.”

“No kidding.” The first good news of Jace’s day.

When Jace and his cousins inherited Dry Creek Ranch from their late grandfather, it had been a flailing 500-acre, cow-calf operation with back taxes the size of California. To save the ranch from foreclosure, the four of them had taken a portion of the land and turned it into an agricultural-themed shopping center, including a florist, Tuff’s saddlery, a specialty food market, a farmhouse furniture store called Refind, and a steak house run by Sawyer’s wife, celebrity chef Gina DeRose.

They hoped that if they built it, they’d come. Except for a while it seemed as if they’d miscalculated because the village wasn’t taking off the way they’d hoped. But with perseverance and the Gina DeRose name, business picked up and it had been going gangbusters ever since.

“According to my estimation, we’ll be able to pay off the last of the back taxes, each get a decent draw, and put some money in the bank for lean times,” Cash said.

“What about the cattle part of the equation?” Tuff asked, and three pairs of eyes turned to Jace.

“We’re a little ahead. Beef prices are up this year. But don’t go buying any big-ticket items just yet. Let’s see how we do at market first.”

Jace waved Laney over from across the room. “What does a guy have to do to get some breakfast around here?” He winked, then gave her a hug.

“It’s about time you made an appearance. These boys have been waiting on you. You want your regular?”

“Yes, ma’am. But add a side of grits. I’m starved.”

“You got it.” She kissed Jace on the cheek and went off to put in the order.

Done with business, the four of them turned to other conversation, including Cash’s cases as investigator for the Bureau of Livestock Identification. Unfortunately, cattle rustling was still alive and well in California’s Sierra Foothills. Sawyer’s next article for whatever fancy magazine he was writing for these days. And Tuff’s latest leather project. Angie’s husband was regarded as one of the top saddle makers in the country.

“How’s Charlie doing?” Cash asked, addressing the elephant in the room. Everyone, Jace most of all, was on edge about her pregnancy. She was high risk, having had two previous miscarriages. The first one, a late-stage miscarriage, was at the hands of an abusive boyfriend, who Jace had put behind bars.

“So far so good. We’re just taking it one day at a time.”

“We’re all pulling for her.” Cash pushed away from the table. “As much as I’d like to sit around shooting the breeze, I’ve got cow cop duties. See you all Sunday night.” It was spring, which meant they took turns hosting a weekly barbecue. Because they all lived on the ranch, no one had to travel far.

Tuff, who had to open his saddlery shop, followed Cash out, leaving just Jace and Sawyer.

“I’ll sit with you while you eat.”

Laney brought Jace’s breakfast to the table. “Here you go, Sheriff Hot Stuff.”

Sawyer let out a bark of laughter. “Hot stuff?”

Jace pinned Sawyer with a scowl. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you. You look like hell these days.”

Sawyer smirked. “You’ll feel my pain soon enough.”

“What are you talking about? I’m still feeling your pain. You think teenage boys are any easier than a baby girl? If you do, you’re crazy.”

“It’s been a while since you had to deal with the terrible twos.”

“Mia’s only eighteen months. Jeez, don’t you know your own kid’s age?” Jace jabbed Sawyer in the arm.

“The thing is my daughter is so advanced that she may as well be two.”

Jace rolled his eyes and washed down a bite of chicken fried steak with another slug of coffee.

“I need a bigger place, man. Some alone time with my wife,” Sawyer said.

“Did you talk to that architect Aubrey knows about expanding your place?”

“Not yet. But soon because one bedroom isn’t going to cut it much longer.”

Jace laughed and shoveled another forkful of grits into his mouth. “There’s always the Skank for a quick romantic getaway.” It was actually named the Swank, a roadside motel next to a biker bar out on the highway. Locals called it the Skank for obvious reasons.

Sawyer shook his head. “Are you almost done gorging yourself because I’ve got a deadline to meet.”

“Get out of here. I’ll see you Sunday night.”

Jace finished his breakfast, spent a little time talking sports with Jimmy Ray in the kitchen, and headed to his office.

The sheriff’s department was in the Civic Center. Unlike most of the historical buildings in Dry Creek—some dating back to the gold rush—the sheriff’s department was a nondescript, twentieth-century building. Jace’s office was even blander. White walls, a sofa and chair, a small conference table, a few certificates on the wall, and a collection of framed pictures of Travis, Grady, and Charlie on his desk.

The truth was he’d rather be out in the field than sitting in a stuffy office anyway. But as Mill County’s top cop, the bureaucracy and paperwork kept him inside most days.

He closed his door, hoping for a few hours of peace to go through reports. Annabeth, his assistant, had already left a stack of messages on his desk. While waiting for his computer to boot up, he called Charlie.

“How’d it go with Travis?”

“The doc gave him prednisone. His first week home for summer break and he gets poison oak. Poor baby.”

Jace was no stranger to poison oak. Every Dalton on the ranch had had an intimate relationship with it a time or two. “He’ll be feeling better in a few hours. How about you?”

“I’m feeling great. As soon as I get Travis settled in, I’ll probably head over to Refind and get some work done.”

“Don’t push yourself too much, okay?”

“I won’t. Travis is calling me, so I better go.”

“Charlie? I love you.”

“Love you too.”

As soon as he signed off, line one on his office phone lit up. Annabeth.

“What’s up?”

“Grady’s school called. Principal Martinez asked that you call her ASAP. Don’t ask, I have no idea.”

“Terrific,” he said under his breath. “Thanks, Annabeth.”

Jace didn’t even have to look it up; he had Marta Martinez’s phone number on speed dial.

“Hi, Jace.” She answered on the second ring. Usually, she was too harried to take a coffee break, let alone answer her phone. Dry Creek High School was understaffed, and on any given day Marta was juggling four different roles at the same time. She’d taken the job two years ago and the district was lucky to have her.

“What did he do this time?” Grady was a good kid, kind and polite. But his energy levels were through the roof and he liked to play the class clown.

“Nothing. He’s fine. But there was a woman here maybe twenty minutes ago. She came to the office and asked to take Grady out of class. I’d never seen her before and when Doreen asked her who she was, she said she was Grady’s mother. When Doreen told her she knew Grady’s mother, she walked off in a huff.”

A sense of unease lodged itself in the pit of Jace’s gut. “Did she give you a name?”

“We didn’t get that far. I called you as soon as she left.”

“I’m on my way over. Make sure she isn’t on campus and that Grady is in class.” Jace was already moving.

“Do you know who she is?”

“Just don’t let that woman anywhere near my kid.”