In the kitchen, she pulled out a container of the chicken rice soup she’d picked up from the diner. It was always made fresh, and it always hit the spot. While warming it in a saucepan, she slid a couple of slices of sourdough into the oven. As the bread began to crisp, she checked on the clothes. The door creaked open, and a hand reached out to grab the pile. Then the door clicked shut again.

  Allison waited another twenty minutes before Loretta finally emerged. Her hair was damp, combed back, and she looked … less haunted, though exhaustion still hung around her like a storm cloud.

  “I borrowed your comb,” she said quietly.

  Allison waved her off. “Anything you need, you’ve got. Are you ready to eat something?”

  Loretta nodded. “Yeah.”

  She followed Allison into the kitchen, her movements sluggish, shoulders hunched. Allison handed her a steaming bowl of soup and two warm, thick slices of sourdough slathered with butter. The woman took a few careful bites, then leaned back, arms wrapping around herself again.

  “I don’t think I can eat much more.”

  “That’s okay,” Allison said gently. “You’ve got time to ease into it. How about I get you a blanket? You can sit on the couch and rest. We can talk a little later.”

  Loretta nodded, and when she stood, she wobbled. Allison rushed forward, catching her before she could fall.

  “Whoa there. Come on, let’s get you comfy.” She guided her to the couch and returned with a thick, soft blanket. Kneeling in front of her, Allison tucked the blanket over her legs. “Listen,” she said, meeting Loretta’s eyes. “I’m fine with you staying here. I’m fine with feeding you and keeping you warm. But I really think Dr. Johnson needs to take a look at you. Those bruises … you’ve been through something. And you nearly passed out just now.”

  “I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” Loretta whispered.

  “It’s no trouble, I promise you. And while we’re at it, we could maybe let Ken, the sheriff, know you’re here.”

  “No.” The word cut through the air, sharp and sudden. Loretta bolted upright, nearly knocking Allison back. “No police. No police whatsoever.”

  Allison raised her hands, palms out. “Okay. Totally cool. No police. No Ken. I get it.”

  Loretta was shaking, her eyes wide and filled with panic. Tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. “I haven’t done anything wrong,” she said again, her voice cracking. “I haven’t done anything illegal. I haven’t hurt anyone.”

  “I believe you,” Allison said softly, stepping closer. “And we’re not going to call anyone unless you want us to. But I’d still like Doc Johnson to take a look at you. I’m worried about you, Loretta.”

  Loretta’s arms hung at her sides, one awkwardly crooked, and Allison wondered if her shoulder was hurt.

  “Can I just sleep?” she whispered. “Just sleep without shivering, without worrying that I’m gonna be found?”

  “You’re safe here,” Allison said firmly, pointing toward the couch. “Do you want a pillow?”

  “No. I just wanna lie down.”

  “Then lie down. When you wake up, we’ll talk more. We’ll go at your pace. Okay?”

  Loretta nodded, curled onto the couch, facing the back cushions, and pulled the blanket up to her shoulders. Within moments, her breathing slowed, and soft snores filled the quiet apartment.

  Allison stood there for a long while, watching her sleep. Then she turned and made her way into the kitchen. Before she could start clearing away the dishes, she reached for her phone and typed out a quick message.

  Could you come up to my apartment when you get to town?

  I have a window we can see Chester through.

  She hit send, knowing Seth would come.

  Something told her this woman was in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  CHAPTER 15

  Any and every time Seth needed to be somewhere quickly, Chester decided it was the perfect moment to slow everything down. Seth had texted Allison to let her know he was leaving, but then Chester had insisted he needed to take an anvil to the barn and back. There was no talking him out of it.

  So, Seth walked with him to the barn, then back. Only then was he finally able to get Chester into the car and load up Gomer.

  “Where are we going?” Chester asked.

  “We're going to town, Pops. Remember? You're going to go whittle with Delbert.”

  “Dumber than a box of rocks,” Chester muttered, looking out the window.

  Seth smiled. “That's right, Dad,” he said as he turned onto the highway toward Hollister.

  “Who was that girl who was here this morning?”

  “Her name is Allison, Dad. Allison Sanderson. The Sandersons own the general store.”

  Chester nodded thoughtfully but didn’t say anything. They drove in silence for about five minutes before Chester asked again, “Who was that girl who was here this morning?”

  “My girlfriend, Dad. Allison Sanderson.”

  Chester frowned and turned to him. “You have a girlfriend?”

  “Yeah, Dad, I do.”

  Chester let out a whoop. “About damn time, son.”

  Seth laughed at his father. “You’ve been waiting for me to get a girlfriend, old man?”

  “Been waiting for you and your sister to settle down. Sarah is married,” Chester said. Then he looked at Seth, eyes a little sharper than usual. “Right?”

  Seth nodded. “Yep. She has two little girls. That’s why she couldn’t come to stay with you. That’s why I said I would.”

  Chester scowled. “Don’t need no damn babysitter.”

  “No one ever said you did, Pops,” Seth replied softly. And he meant it. He would never make his father feel like a child.

  They turned into Hollister, the town nearly silent. Delbert was slowly making his way to the bench out front of the general store. One or two townsfolk strolled along Main Street, but everything else was shuttered. Nothing was open on Sundays, a rhythm as dependable as the prairie wind.

  But if anyone needed anything, well, everyone knew who to call to get what they needed.

  Seth pulled up in front of the general store and waited for his father to get out of the truck. Gomer hopped down and stepped beside Chester like he’d done it a thousand times. Once his father was settled on the bench and Delbert had taken his usual seat, Gomer sat loyally at Chester’s feet, the perfect guardian.

  Seth handed Chester the block of wood he’d been whittling on earlier, along with his old pocketknife. “Here you go, Pops.”

  Chester turned the wood block over in his hands and frowned. “I think you were making a bird,” Seth offered.

  Delbert glanced over. “Yup. A bird. We always make birds.”

  Chester rolled his eyes. “I know that, Delbert. My problem is I don’t know what kind of bird I was making this time.” He looked up at Seth. “I might forget things, but I know what I whittle.”

  “Birds. Always birds.” Delbert nodded. “Stuck in a rut.”

  “Better a rut than the alternative,” Chester grunted.

  Delbert glanced at Chester. “Alternative will come sooner or later. No fighting it.”

  “Watch me,” his father growled.

  Seth chuckled and tapped his dad’s shoulder. “Okay, Dad. I’m gonna walk over to Allison’s. I can still see you from there. If you need anything, just stand up.”

  Chester scowled. “Don’t need no damn babysitter.”

  “I know, Dad. Just saying.” Seth turned and walked toward Allison’s place. He hadn’t been to her apartment above the bakery before, and he looked forward to it. He took the stairs two at a time and at the top was just about to knock when the door opened.

  Allison stood there, and before she could say a word, Seth grabbed her by the waist, pulled her in, and dipped his head. “Hello, beautiful. It’s been too damn long.”

  Laughing softly, she shushed him and slipped out the door, shutting it behind her. Seth looked from her to the closed door. “This wasn’t what I expected. And why are we being quiet?”

  “Loretta is sleeping on the couch.”

  “Who’s Loretta, and why is she sleeping on your couch?”

  “Loretta is the woman I’ve been feeding. She was sitting on my steps when I got home this morning. She’s not doing well. She swears she hasn’t done anything illegal, and I believe her. She’s terrified, Seth. I don’t know of what, but I really think Doc Johnson needs to take a look at her.”

  “We need to call Ken. If she’s afraid of something⁠—”

  Allison held up her hand. “No, we don’t call Ken because she asked me not to. No police.”

  Seth frowned. “I don’t like that.” Actually, it set his nerves on edge to the point of grinding. “Why doesn’t she want the police involved? It isn’t like we’re going to turn her over to the same people who did this to her.”

  “We don’t know what happened to her, so we have to find out. I’m not calling Ken. But I told her you were coming. And you have law enforcement training, right?”

  Seth nodded. “And?”

  “Well, maybe you and I can talk to her. You can figure out what’s going on. Then you can talk to Ken, and I won’t have broken my word.”

  Seth raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you are a devious one, aren’t you?”

  Allison shrugged. “I used to be. Trying really hard not to be that anymore. But I think we’ll have to take matters into our own hands. She could barely eat anything, which tells me she’s either really sick or she’s been out in the elements too long. But I’ve been feeding her, so I’m leaning toward sick. You know what I mean?”

  “I do. And I’m hoping whatever she has isn’t contagious.” He gave her a pointed look.

  Allison’s eyes widened. “I didn’t even think about that.”

  “I know.” He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You were only worried about her. You wanted her to be safe.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. She’s sleeping now and probably will be for quite some time. Would you come back tomorrow and talk with her?”

  “I’d be happy to. As long as you get Doc Johnson up here now to make sure she’s not going to be contagious or infect you with something. I couldn’t handle that.” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

  She leaned into his touch. “Did I tell you I had a really good time last night?”

  Seth smiled. “Not in so many words, but there were a few actions I picked up on.”

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him. “You know, Seth, you keep talking like that, I’m gonna think you like me.”

  He kissed her, slow and soft. “You keep holding me like this, and you’re gonna know how much I like you.”

  Chuckling, she slid her hands down to squeeze his backside. “Oh? Then I’ll tell you I think you're special.”

  “So are you. See, we’re communicating.” He leaned in for another kiss. “Call Doc Johnson,” he murmured against her lips.

  “I will.”

  “I’m going to wait at the store. We’re not leaving until I see he’s been here.”

  Allison sighed and leaned into him. “I really did have a good time, Seth.”

  “So did I. We’ll have to do that again.”

  “I wouldn’t object in the slightest.” Allison chuckled.

  He kissed her once more, then turned her around and gave her backside a playful swat. “Go call the doctor.”

  She spun to look at him, eyes dancing. “Tease.”

  “Do you want more of that, young lady?” Seth raised a brow.

  She laughed and shrugged. “Maybe.” Then Allison winked at him and walked inside, closing the door.

  Seth groaned. The woman would be the death of him. He smiled and started whistling on his way down the steps. But, man, what a way to die.

  He headed back to the store and sat down on the steps, absently petting Gomer while his father and Delbert talked about nothing and sent chips of wood scattering across the boardwalk. Seth couldn’t hear what they were talking about, but the tone was good-natured. Gomer, content and calm, lay at Seth’s feet, ever the quiet sentinel.

  Across the street, Seth spotted a tall blond man walking behind the bakery with a tall woman whose curly blonde hair bounced with every step. He figured that had to be Doc Johnson. Relief settled over him. Allison had followed through. His woman never hesitated when someone needed help. He stopped and smiled at that thought. His woman.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket, and when he pulled it free, he smiled.

  Doc and his wife are here. He’s talking to her now and going to check her out.

  Seth tapped a quick reply:

  I saw them. Still out here with Chester.

  Allison responded with a simple red heart. He smiled and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

  A truck rumbled onto Main Street from the highway. Seth vaguely recognized it and watched as it pulled into the garage. Frank Marshall climbed out alongside another man, who Seth didn’t recognize. Together, they wrestled a hydraulic lift from the truck bed. Frank exchanged a few words with his companion, then crossed the street and sank down on the steps beside Seth, his knees propped on his elbows.

  “Figured we could talk today if that’s okay with you,” Frank said in a low voice. “John, my ranch manager, is going to stay over there, and I don’t think your father or Delbert can hear us from this distance.”

  Seth nodded. “We can do that.”

  Frank glanced his way. “I’m going to take your gentleman’s handshake on the fact that you’ll sign an NDA. Don’t have it with me today, but what I’m about to tell you is confidential.”

  Seth met his gaze. “Mr. Marshall, I have top secret clearance. It’s still active. If what you’re about to tell me affects national security, you have my word I won’t say a thing.”

  “That it does, son. That it does.”

  “Then you have my word.” Seth extended his hand, and Frank shook it firmly.

  “Guardian Security has a presence on my ranch,” Frank said.

  Seth chuckled. “Best kept non-secret in the world.”

  Frank pulled a piece of taffy from his shirt pocket, unwrapped it, and offered one to Seth before popping his own into his mouth. Seth accepted the candy with a grin and did the same.

  “That being said,” Frank continued, “the powers that be are looking at training dogs to deploy with our teams. Not all the teams. Some are too specialized, but teams working in urban warfare or search and rescue missions. Dogs like yours could change the outcome of an operation.”

  Seth nodded. “Early detection saves lives.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Frank tilted his head toward Gomer, who was dozing beside Seth’s boots. “Tell me a little about this one.”

  “He’s a tracker and a drug dog. His nose is his superpower.”

  Frank chuckled, nodding thoughtfully. “Always wondered how they train for that. Can’t exactly hand him a textbook.”

  Seth grinned. “Nope. It starts before they even learn to sit. First thing is selecting the right dog. You need one with drive, confidence, and curiosity. You want a dog that’ll chase a tennis ball through fire and won’t flinch at a gunshot. Focus is essential. Gomer passed all those tests in about twelve weeks. But that initial selection? That’s everything.”

  “So, what’s next? Obedience?”

  “Exactly. We nail down the basic commands like heel, down, stay. It’s not just about manners. It’s how we build trust. These dogs have to listen, even when everything around them is chaos. Once that’s solid, we imprint them on a target scent. Could be narcotics, explosives, even people.”

  Frank raised an eyebrow. “Imprint?”

  “Means we pair the scent with something they love, which is usually a toy. For Gomer, it was a tug towel. He’d catch a whiff of cocaine, and boom, he was ready to play. Over time, he learned that finding the scent meant a reward. One plus one equals two, and these dogs quickly figure out the math. Then we ramp up the complexity. We hide the training aid in harder places, throw in distractions, conflicting odors, and different environments. Keeps their brains sharp.”

  Frank nodded and gestured to the field beyond the mechanics’ garage. “What about tracking?”

  Seth leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees as he scanned the dusty road that cut through Hollister. The scent of weathered wood and sunbaked prairie grass drifted on the breeze, mixing with the faint tang of machine oil from the nearby garage. The low hum of insects rose from the dry field beyond the mechanics’ building.

  “Gomer was trained to track after he’d been certified in drug detection. He was between handlers, and I had time. He was a natural. All he wants to do is please his handler. In training, we teach them to follow ground disturbances and the skin cells a person sheds when they move,” Seth said, nodding toward the golden field. “At first, it’s short tracks with food drops or play as rewards. I prefer play, and food rewards are growing less common nowadays. Then we go longer. We throw in cross-tracks, wind shifts, and real-life variables. Gomer could follow a track that was several hours old. Still might be able to, honestly. He’s slower now with arthritis, but that nose still works.”

  Frank nodded slowly, gaze resting on Gomer. “What does he do when he finds something?”

  “He alerts,” Seth answered. “We train dogs with a passive alert. Meaning they’ll sit or freeze and stare at what alerted them when they find something. You never want an aggressive alert. Not when you’re talking bombs. Scratching at a live explosive isn’t exactly a great idea.”

  Frank gave a dry laugh. “No, I reckon not.”

  Seth shifted, leaning against his thighs. “After all that, we certify them. Blind tests. Vehicles, luggage, buildings. No help from the handler or anyone in the scenario, not even the slightest look. We have QC people watching the handler just as hard as the certifier is watching the dog. Dog’s got to do the work on its own. If not, it can cost lives. Theirs and ours.”

 

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