Beau: Cowboy Protector

“Thirty-three.” Jordan sighed. “After the doctor confirmed that I’d eventually go blind, Bob insisted we stop trying to have children.” Her aunt waved a hand before her face. “Life goes on. Speaking of which, you need to make an appointment with an ophthalmologist.”

“I’ve got time.” Sierra wasn’t ready for an official diagnosis.

“Sandra—” Aunt Jordan’s high school friend “—was in the diner last week and said you walked right by her without saying hello.”

Since Jordan helped in the diner once in a while, the place had become a coffee klatch for her gossipy friends. “I wasn’t rude on purpose.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“I’m sure I was distracted.” Sierra would rather believe that than admit she had trouble with her peripheral vision.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” Sierra was scared—bone-chillingly terrified of going blind. “Are you sure you won’t miss spending the holidays with your friends in St. Petersburg?” Her aunt had rented her condo to a businessman until the end of the year.

“Is that a polite way of telling me I’m cramping your style?”

“Not at all.” It was Sierra’s way of conveying that she didn’t want her aunt to leave Roundup. Ever. Jordan had leaned on her husband as her eyesight had worsened through the years, but Sierra had no one to guide her down the frightening road ahead. “It’s just that Montana winters are long and cold.”

“I remember them, dear. I’m looking forward to snow for the holidays.”

“I’m sure it will be nice to spend Christmas with Joshua.” If her aunt and former boyfriend really hit it off, Jordan would have another reason to remain in Roundup.

“Thank you for reminding me that I need to make a Christmas list. I have no idea what Joshua would like.”

Sierra took her glass to the sink. “I’m sure he’ll be pleased with whatever you choose for him.” It was obvious that Joshua was crazy for Jordan—not a day went by that he didn’t visit her or call.

“I think I’ll read this afternoon,” Jordan said.

As much as Sierra loved her aunt and needed her encouragement, there were times when she grew weary of being impressed by the woman. Jordan had taught herself to read braille before she’d completely lost her eyesight. “Would Molly like a walk before I leave?”

“I’m sure she would, but she’ll have to wait until three.”

“I forgot about her schedule.” Molly was on a set timetable for eating, walks and bedtime. “Holler if you need anything, Aunt Jordan.”

“I won’t, dear.”

That was the truth. No one had been more surprised than Sierra when her aunt and Molly had ridden a Greyhound bus clear across the country by themselves. From the very first day in town, her aunt had demonstrated her independence. It didn’t take long to learn Jordan became perturbed when people did things for her without asking if she needed their help. Sierra was counting on her aunt to teach her how to be just as gutsy and courageous.

Sierra took the back stairs down to the diner. Sunday was her favorite day of the week. Roundup’s spiritual citizens attended morning church services at the various places of worship, and afterward many of them stopped by the diner for lunch. Folks were usually in a congenial mood after listening to God’s word, and her employees swore tips were better on Sundays than any other day of the week.

When Sierra entered the kitchen she found her waitresses sharing a piece of peach cobbler. “Taking a break?”

“Yeah. Mr. Humphrey finally left,” Amy said. “The old fart drives me crazy.” The teen snorted. “Who leaves a tip in nickels?”

That her waitress found Mr. Humphrey an odd duck amused Sierra. Amy possessed her share of interesting traits, such as short, dark hair with hot-pink bangs. Tattoos covered Amy’s right arm from wrist to shoulder, and she wore numerous silver rings in her ears and fake diamond studs pierced her nose and eyebrows.

“Mr. Humphrey is one of my faithful customers. Please be nice to him,” Sierra said.

“I always am,” Amy grumbled.

Amy was a nice girl, but she ran with a rough crowd and had gotten caught shoplifting twice this year. Dinah Hart-Wright, Roundup’s sheriff, had asked Sierra if she’d give Amy a job to help keep her out of trouble. The teen’s first few weeks at the diner had been a challenge, but Susie, an honor student at the high school and one year younger than Amy, had befriended the delinquent teen and shown her the ropes.

“When you girls finish your dessert, please clean off the mustard and ketchup bottles, then fill the salt and pepper shakers on the tables.”

“Sure. But Sierra,” Susie said. “I checked the storeroom this morning and we’re out of salt.”

“Okay, thanks for letting me know.” Sierra had taken inventory a week ago and hadn’t noticed they were low on salt. Had it been an oversight on her part or had she not seen that the salt canister had been missing from the shelf?

“Did you enjoy your visit with your friend?” Irene asked when Sierra joined her behind the lunch counter.

“What frien—” Sierra caught herself. “Um, yes. Thanks for closing up last night. I’m sorry it was such short notice.”

Irene waved her off. “We all need a little downtime. Speaking of which, Karla agreed to work the rest of my shift this afternoon.”

“Aren’t you feeling well?” Because Irene’s husband was a long-haul truck driver, she often worked more than an eight-hour day so she didn’t have to sit at home alone. Maybe the long hours were catching up with the fifty-year-old.

“Ed called. His run to Boise got canceled. He’s coming home tonight.”

“That’s great news. Be sure to fix a plate of food for each of you before clocking out.”

“Thanks, Sierra. The less time I spend in the kitchen the more time Ed and I can spend in the bedroom.” Irene winked. “I’ll finish getting the potatoes ready and put the pans of sirloin into the oven before I leave.” Irene returned to the kitchen, leaving Sierra alone in the diner.

The rumble of a truck engine caught her attention and she glanced out the front window. Beau’s red Dodge pulled into a parking spot across the street in front of Wright’s Western Wear and Tack. He got out of the truck and glanced over his shoulder. Sierra ducked behind the counter, hoping he hadn’t caught her spying. After counting to five, she stood. Beau strolled along the sidewalk, his cocky swagger tugging a quiet sigh from her. She loved the way he filled out his Wranglers.

Go talk to him.

She owed Beau an apology and a plausible explanation for why she’d spent the night in her car—as soon as she got up the courage.

* * *

“HEY, AUSTIN,” BEAU called out a greeting when he entered Wright’s. He’d driven into town to speak with Sierra but at the last minute had decided to check on his saddles.

“Heard you took first place in the bull-riding competition yesterday.” Boot heels clunked against the wood floor as Austin wove through the racks of clothing.

Beau shook hands with his cousin’s husband. “Word gets around quick in this town.” How long would it take for people to gossip about him and Sierra if he persuaded her to go on a date with him?

“Colt phoned Dinah a while ago. Good thing you two caught Midnight before he escaped the boundaries of the ranch.” Austin shook his head. “My wife doesn’t need the aggravation of working a second missing-horse case on that stallion.”

“Is Dinah’s pregnancy making her moody?”

“No comment.” Austin grinned. “Hey, before I forget.” He reached into his shirt pocket and removed a business card. “This guy’s interested in having you make him a saddle.”

“He didn’t like either of those?” Beau glanced at the saddles in the front window.

“He wants a cutting saddle with a shallower seat and a higher horn.” Austin motioned to the business card in Beau’s hand. “Jim Phillips is the new foreman at the Casey Beef Ranch south of Billings.”

“Did you give Phillips one of my cards?” Beau asked.