His grin faded, but he held on to the reins. Stacy looked away frantically, trying to keep an eye on Zachary, who was racing farther and farther from where she was struggling with Trevor.
“Let go of those reins or I will tell the governor about your insubordination.”
His eyes narrowed to slit. “Insubordination? That’s how you see me, isn’t it? Just some lowlife shoveling horse crap for a living. Right?” He laughed, but the sound was anything but humorous. “You don’t know anything about me, Stacy. And if you want to tattle, go ahead. I don’t need this job.”
He still held the reins. Stacy gave a tug. “Let go.”
He tugged the reins tighter, pulling their horses together until his leg and Stacy’s almost touched. “Does the governor know how often you bring Zachary riding?”
She gritted her teeth. “Let. Go.” She kicked her horse, hoping Delta’s strength would wrench the reins from Trevor’s hands before she had to resort to something more violent.
The ploy worked momentarily, and she and the mare thundered across the pasture, heading north to try to cut off Zachary and the Appaloosa, which had started to curve back around as they neared the outer edge of the pasture, where the land began to rise subtly.
But in seconds, she heard hoofbeats drumming toward her, catching up fast. “Does she know, Stacy?” Trevor called after her. “Does she know how hard the job is for you?”
She felt his hand touch her elbow, grabbing for her. He tugged sharply, and she clamped her knees around the horse, trying to keep her seat as he pulled her off balance.
Suddenly, he let go. She heard the sound of a scuffle behind her, and even her fear for Zachary couldn’t keep her from looking back to see what had happened.
She saw Harlan on the ground, holding Trevor down on his face, his arms pulled behind him to subdue him. Nearby, a black horse danced and snorted, eager for more action.
“Go!” Harlan said urgently, and she turned and goaded the mare into a flat-out run.
Alamo was still running a half circle around the edge of the pastureland, galloping with all the joy and power of a young, healthy horse given his head. She feared Zachary would fall from the saddle at any moment, but when she reached the gelding and caught his reins, Zachary was laughing with wild joy.
“Did you see me, Mommy? Did you?” Zachary threw himself into her waiting arms, almost overbalancing her. He wrapped his arms and legs around her as tightly as he’d wrapped them around the horse. “Alamo ran like the wind, Mommy. Like the wind!”
She buried her face in his neck, fighting tears of relief.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, there’s no reason to hold him?” Harlan stared at Jeff Appleton, stunned. “How about child endangerment, for starters?”
“Zachary is fine.” Appleton looked regretful but resigned. “And since Stacy doesn’t want to press charges-”
“What?” Harlan shook his head. “No way.”
“It’s my word against his.” Stacy’s voice sent a dart of awareness shooting through him, as if his whole body was becoming acutely attuned to her-her voice, her expression, the way she always smelled good, like a light breeze on a warm spring day. At the moment, she was all stony determination, the muscle in her jaw tight and twitching. “And this kind of mess is the last thing the governor needs now.”
“I have to go process Lewis out of here.” Jeff gave Harlan another apologetic look and headed down the sheriff’s station hallway, leaving Harlan and Stacy alone in the corridor.
“Stacy, that guy could have gotten Zachary killed.”
Her eyes flashing, she spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t you think I know that? Believe me, I’m not going to let Zachary go anywhere near Trevor Lewis again. But Jeff said Trevor’s talking about pressing assault charges against you-”
“That’s bull-the guy was trying to manhandle you.”
“The governor and Greg think-”
“Greg.” Harlan spat the name, glad that the governor and her smarmy campaign manager were nowhere nearby. “I know the guy’s supposed to be some sort of political genius, but he shouldn’t be facilitating that creep’s attempted blackmail.”
Stacy put her hand on Harlan’s arm. Even blazing with anger, he wasn’t immune to the feel of her fingers on his skin, his flesh quivering where she touched him. “The party is tomorrow night. That’s our priority. After that, the governor and I can talk about finding other reasons to fire Trevor Lewis. Ironclad reasons he can’t use to smear her in the press.”
“He threatened that, too?”
Stacy’s lips pressed to a thin line. “Let’s just go home. I have a ton of work to do.” Her expression softened, her lips curving. “And I believe you promised you’d watch Zachary for me.”
He let his own anger drain away, making the effort to do as she asked-table any thoughts about Trevor Lewis until after the fundraiser. He’d already put Trevor at the top of the background checklist-if the CSI team found anything that showed Trevor was a real threat to the governor or Stacy and Zachary, they’d call him immediately.
Besides, she’d just suggested they go home, and he liked the warm, tingling feeling the word gave him when she said it.
“Okay. Where’s the little cowpoke?”
Stacy smiled. “Sitting on Sheriff Hale’s desk, telling him how to tell the difference between an Appaloosa and a dapple.”
“ZACHARY, WE HAVE TO be very quiet. Your mama’s working.”
Harlan’s voice trailed down the hall from Zachary’s room, making Stacy look up from her paperwork and smile. They’d eaten an early supper and Harlan, true to his word, had coaxed Zachary to play with him in Zachary’s room, leaving Stacy free to finish up the last-minute calls and arrangements she had to make for the fundraiser.
“She’s always working.” Zachary’s plaintive voice carried even farther than Harlan’s, sending a little arrow of guilt straight through Stacy’s heart.
“I know. She works very hard,” Harlan agreed. “And do you know why?”
“No.”
Harlan’s laugh echoed Stacy’s soft chuckle at her son’s answer. “She does it so you can go riding and go to school and learn what Miss Charlotte teaches you. And so you can depend on there always being hot dogs on hot dog night-”
“Tonight was peanut butter and jelly night.”
“I know. And your mother works hard so she can buy your peanut butter.”
“I don’t like crunchy peanut butter.”
“Well, good,” Harlan said with a chuckle. “That way, there’ll be more for me.”
Zachary laughed at Harlan’s joke, catching Stacy by surprise. Zachary almost never knew when to laugh at other people’s jokes. But somehow, Harlan had broken through to him for that one small moment. Stacy blinked back the sudden sting of tears.
“See, some people have to do stuff they
“Why?”
Harlan laughed again. “I’ve been asking that question since I was a little kid like you.”
Zachary sounded incredulous. “Wow. That’s a long time!”
Stacy smiled, trying to picture Harlan’s expression in response to her son’s honest if unflattering comment.
“Yeah, I reckon it is,” Harlan conceded. “And, best I can tell, the only answer to that question is, that’s just how things work.”
“I don’t like that answer.” Stacy could picture the look of disapproval on her son’s face just by the tone of his voice.
