Last Chance Cowboy. Leigh Riker
firm and a shoo-in to become partner. If he didn’t make that, after all, his mood would probably get much worse. She wondered if he’d be willing to talk about adoption then. Not that Shadow intended to let things get that far.
“You’re not being reasonable, Jen. David has always wanted a child of his own. I remember his objections to you adopting in the first years of your marriage. I doubt he’s changed his mind. And I certainly haven’t changed mine. I understand how you must feel but Ava belongs with me.”
Jenna lowered her voice with obvious effort. “Are you sure about that?”
The question pushed Shadow off balance. “Of course I am. It’s not healthy for us to be apart so much. Without her, I’m just...adrift. I know Ava and I will need to make some readjustments, but I’m prepared to do that.”
“You won’t have to if she stays with me.”
“Jenna, I’m not saying moving Ava will be easy, but it’s the best thing for her. Not that our lives together were simple before. You know how we struggled until finally I felt so overwhelmed, and frightened for her welfare—”
“That you came to me.”
And to be fair, Jenna hadn’t hesitated to take them in. When one year had stretched into two, she’d been happy to let them stay. Then, a year ago, when their father died and Shadow had returned to Barren for his funeral, she’d found an opportunity she couldn’t resist to open her agency there instead of paying Kansas City prices to rent an office. That had been the chance she’d needed to secure Ava’s future. Ever since, she’d been juggling her job and her responsibility to Ava, working in Barren five days a week then spending the weekends with her at Jenna’s house. Now it was time to end that, to be with her daughter every day. And oh, how Shadow had missed her. This past year had been very hard on both of them.
For a moment she let herself remember their everyday routine—getting Ava off to school, cozying up at bedtime to read her favorite book, sharing mother-daughter conversations and silly jokes. Kissing her good-night.
Still, she had to let Jenna know how grateful she was. “If it hadn’t been for you and David, I don’t know what I would have done.”
The fact that Jenna, a year older than Shadow, had been, and still was, in far better financial shape couldn’t be denied. Their spacious home in Shawnee Mission, an upscale community just outside Kansas City, had given Ava advantages Shadow couldn’t supply then, especially the school in which Ava had started first grade. Now Jenna stayed silent.
“I didn’t want Ava to end up in poverty the way you and I grew up.” Shadow drew a deep breath. “I wanted her to have something better.”
Jenna’s mouth set in a hard line. “She still does.”
Shadow was shaking. She’d never expected Jenna to be so unwilling to let Ava go, even to the point of bringing up adoption. “I’m in a different situation than I was before, and yes, that’s thanks to you in large part. But Jenna, I’m her mother!”
Shadow tried to collect herself. This was going even worse than her moments with Grey at Annabelle’s Diner and in her office. “We’ve talked about this before, Jen. Surely you knew we’d move out as soon as I was able to provide Ava with everything she needs. She’s my first priority. She always has been. She always will be, and I used that time while we lived with you to improve things—for her benefit.”
Shadow had worked two and sometimes three jobs, paid off her mountain of bills, saved every penny toward buying her house in a good neighborhood in Barren. After becoming a teen mother, she’d finally gotten her GED, and later completed courses to become an administrator at the same nursing home where she’d been an aide. As a supervisor, she’d developed the leadership skills needed to open Mother Comfort, all the while planning to be with her daughter in their own home.
“I have two bedrooms now,” she said. “Ava won’t have to share like we did when we had that first little apartment in the city.” Shadow laid a hand on Jenna’s arm and felt her flinch. “I don’t want to hurt you, Jen. I don’t want you to lose her, either,” she said. “You can see Ava whenever you wish. That doesn’t have to change. She can spend some weekends with you and David—the way I’ve been commuting this past year while I got the agency going. I know she loves you, too.”
Jenna glanced at the sky. “Well, let’s see. You love Ava. I love Ava. You love me. That’s all very nice, Shadow. But the real question is—does she still love you?”
Shadow’s breath caught. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“Haven’t you noticed? She’s become so resentful. While you were studying, working, she learned to rely on me. Most mornings I see her off on the school bus, and who takes her to soccer practice and the pediatrician when you can’t be there?”
“That’s not fair. I was home with her as much as I could be. Maybe I was wrong to wait even this long—”
“She didn’t ask to come with me today. She didn’t ask about you, Shadow. I don’t think you realize what’s happened here.”
Shadow swallowed. It hurt to know that in recent months Ava had become closer to Jenna than to Shadow, and yes, she’d noticed that. Already her relationship with Ava had begun to change, not for the better.
Jenna did have a point. Ava hadn’t understood why Shadow needed to be in Barren during the week this past year, only spending Friday night through Sunday in Shawnee Mission. The commute had worn her down, but Shadow had stuck to it. And several times, when Ava was sick, she’d closed the office to stay with her—which was only right. She’d gone to every parent-teacher conference, to her spring concert, arranged sleepovers with her friends. But in trying to do the best thing for her child, had she only made things worse?
Now she had Jenna and their relationship to deal with, too. And Grey.
* * *
GREY TOSSED HIS hat onto the sheriff’s beige metal desk then sank down on a wooden chair across from him. “So that’s what happened,” he said.
Finn Donovan had listened patiently to Grey’s report to his deputy about his missing cattle, offering a comment here and there or asking a question. Grey had first thought of the new chief law enforcement officer of Stewart County more as a typical hard-working cowboy—like Grey—rather than a cop. Finn wore no gold star on his chest, and on his lanky frame were a faded blue denim shirt and jeans, as if he’d just wandered in from some barn or pasture. He wore scuffed brown boots that had seen better days, but despite his casual look he had a mind as sharp as a spike of broken barbed wire.
He gazed at Grey.
“I gave Logan a call to follow up while you were signing your statement.” He pointed toward the outer room, where Grey could hear the continual clack of computer keys and the constantly ringing phone. The air smelled of burned coffee. “His men tell him they’ve lost a few cows but not as many as you did. What does that say to you?”
“It isn’t as easy for someone to pull up to the Circle H from the road as it is to pull up to my ranch and steal my means of making a living. You should have seen those guys. Slick as a whistle. Brazen.”
“You saw them. Can’t you add better descriptions?”
“Finn, it was pitch dark out there—no light to take photos. I was on the hill too far away to see much detail, even with binoculars.”
“Yeah, and you should have waited for me. Instead of getting trigger-happy.”
“I didn’t hit anybody,” Grey muttered. “They were already leaving when I took that one shot—trying to disable the truck. Missed their tire and off they went. I’m still kicking myself for waiting. Maybe I should have charged down that hill as soon as I saw them and taken them by surprise. Tried to get a look at their faces.” He shook his head. “And here I thought I was dealing with high school kids on a spree.”
“Keep a cool