Rider on Fire & When You Call My Name: Rider on Fire / When You Call My Name. Sharon Sala

Might as well be you.”

      She threw a pot holder at him.

      Surprise lit his face as he caught it. This daughter of his had fire in her soul. But he should have known that. No one did what she did for a living without having a large amount of faith in herself. It made him sick at heart to think of her growing up so alone. It was a good thing that she’d had a strong belief in herself, because there had been no one else to do it for her.

      He heard Adam’s deep voice, then the sound of Sonora laughing. He smiled. It had been years since such joy had filled this house. His blessing was that he’d lived long enough to hear it.

      “Good morning, Franklin,” Adam said as he followed Sonora into the kitchen. Then he eyed the stove and the pan of biscuits. “You outdid yourself this morning, didn’t you?”

      Franklin beamed. “I did nothing but oversleep. My daughter has cooked our food this morning.”

      Sonora bit her lip to keep it from trembling as she cracked eggs into the hot skillet. This was nothing short of a miracle, and she was frying eggs in this kitchen as if it was no big deal.

      “I like mine over easy,” Adam said.

      Sonora jumped. She hadn’t known he’d come up behind her.

      “How many?” she asked.

      “Two, please.”

      She grabbed another egg and broke it into the skillet beside the three that were already beginning to cook.

      “What about you, Dad? How many eggs for you?”

      “Oh…maybe one. My appetite isn’t what it used to be.”

      Sonora turned around and frowned at Franklin. His color was ashen, and there was a bead of sweat on his upper lip. She took a piece of bacon from the platter, handed it to him and pointed toward the table.

      “Sit.”

      Franklin took the bacon and sat without argument. Adam looked startled by Sonora’s perception, and without comment, poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down by Franklin.

      Sonora noticed the way Adam cared for Franklin, subtly checking the older man’s pulse, then shaking out two painkillers for him from a bottle in the cabinet. By the time the eggs were done, Franklin appeared to be feeling better.

      Sonora carried the plates to the table, then added the biscuits, bacon and jelly. She poured the gravy and refilled the coffee cups, then finally sat down.

      Franklin eyed the table, then Adam, then Sonora.

      “Today, I am truly blessed,” he said softly. “And so I ask blessings for the food we are about to eat, and for the company of my daughter and my best friend.”

      “I am the one who’s honored. Are those biscuits homemade?”

      Sonora eyed Franklin, who appeared ready to offer another comment regarding her expertise in a kitchen, and headed him off.

      “Yes, and before we get all carried away with praise for the cook, you should know that the eggs are getting cold,” she said.

      With that, she passed the biscuits down the table, trying not to appear too pleased when both men took two apiece to start with.

      For a few minutes, little was said other than a request for something to be passed. It wasn’t until Franklin was finishing his second biscuit that it occurred to him the food tasted good.

      “Sonora, this food is very good,” Franklin said. “Who taught you to cook like this?”

      “Betty Crocker.”

      Adam grinned.

      Franklin’s eyebrow arched.

      “The Betty Crocker?”

      “The one and only,” Sonora added.

      Adam snagged another biscuit, slathered it with butter and jelly, then toasted Sonora with it.

      “Then…my compliments to the cook,” he said.

      But Franklin wasn’t satisfied.

      “You learned to cook like this from a book?”

      Sonora shrugged.

      “Pretty much. I got tired of eating out all the time, bought myself an old Betty Crocker cookbook from a library sale when I was…oh…probably eighteen or nineteen. After that, it was largely a case of trial and error. I did get a few pointers from an elderly woman who was my neighbor at the time.”

      Franklin lifted his head and then stared off into the distance. Sonora could tell that he was troubled, but she didn’t understand.

      “What’s wrong? Are you feeling bad again? Maybe you should go lie down for a—”

      “I’m sick, but not like you mean. I am sick at heart that you have marked every step in your life alone.”

      Sonora got up and put her arms around her father’s neck and hugged him.

      “You worry too much,” she said. “I’m fine. I’m strong. And if you’re feeling all that good, you can do dishes.”

      Franklin looked startled, then he laughed and pointed at Adam.

      “Two Eagles will do the dishes.”

      Adam grinned. “It would be my pleasure. However, I hope you know that there’s a house rule about the dishwasher getting to take home the leftovers.”

      Sonora frowned.

      “There’s nothing left but biscuits.”

      “Exactly,” Adam said, and then grabbed the bread plate and headed for the cabinet.

      “We will be outside on the back porch for a while,” Franklin said. “When you’ve finished, please join us.”

      “Hmmpf? Oh…shurr,” Adam mumbled.

      Sonora wasn’t sure, but she thought he’d just stuffed another biscuit in his mouth, then Franklin took her hand and led her outside.

      “Let’s sit here,” he said, and pointed to a couple of wicker chairs at the north end of the porch.

      They sat. Franklin took a deep breath, folded his hands in his lap and then stared straight into Sonora’s eyes.

      “Now we ask questions of each other, and the answers must be honest.”

      Before they could start, Sonora heard the familiar ring of her cell phone that she’d left on the cabinet. At the same time, Adam called out.

      “Sonora, your phone is ringing.”

      “The only person it could be is my boss,” Sonora said. “I’d better get it.”

      Adam met her at the door and handed it to her as she came inside.

      “Thanks,” she said, glanced at the caller ID, then smiled. “I was right. It’s my boss. This won’t take a minute, okay?”

      Franklin nodded, and then leaned back in the chair as Sonora answered.

      “Hello.”

      Gerald Mynton breathed a huge sigh of relief.

      “Thank God,” he muttered. “You’ve been harder to find than the Loch Ness monster.”

      Sonora frowned. “What’s wrong?”

      Mynton sighed. There was no easy way to say this. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

      Sonora stilled. “How bad?”

      “Your friend Buddy Allen is dead. We think Garcia got to him, trying to find you.”

      Sonora moaned. She didn’t know it, but her face had gone white as a sheet.

      “What happened to him?” she asked.

      “It