Finding The Road Home. Tina Radcliffe

you to my Wrangler Team for their support and to those Wranglers who helped me build Rebel, Oklahoma: Tracey Hagwood, Dawn Leonard, Tonya Lucas, Jenny and Ryder Beardsley, Trixi Oberempt and Heather Pickett.

      Only a writer really gets a writer. Tipping my cup of coffee to my friends S and S for keeping it real.

      Thank you to my hero, Tom, who supports me every single day of this journey.

      Finally, many thanks to my agent, Jessica Alvarez, for helping bring this series to life. I am grateful to my editor, Dina Davis, for her guidance and patience. Each book makes me a better writer.

      Contents

       Cover

       Back Cover Text

       About the Author

       Booklist

       Title Page

       Copyright

      Note to Readers

       Introduction

       Dear Reader

       Bible Verse

       Dedication

       Chapter One

       Chapter Two

       Chapter Three

       Chapter Four

       Chapter Five

       Chapter Six

       Chapter Seven

       Chapter Eight

       Chapter Nine

       Chapter Ten

       Chapter Eleven

       Epilogue

       Extract

       About the Publisher

       Chapter One

      Police chief Mitchell Rainbolt shook his head as he slid into the front seat of his departmental SUV and tried to remember why he was still in Rebel, Oklahoma, running a department with less staff than the Arrowhead Diner across the street.

      With a glance at the clock, he confirmed the time. Ten o’clock on a Friday morning and he was off to check out a report of trespassers because his next in command was MIA.

      Again.

      Ever since Roscoe McFarland announced he was retiring in a year, he’d caught a serious case of don’t know, don’t care.

      Mitch put the key in the ignition. The only thing saving his sanity was that his new hire, one Daisy Anderson, would start on Monday.

      The Kendall property was five miles outside of town. Empty for years, the two-story home had fallen into disrepair. A shame, because when Mitch was just a kid and doing his best to keep track of his younger siblings, the Kendalls had provided a haven he could count on during the long months while his widowed father disappeared on the rodeo circuit.

      He made the turnoff to the property and stared at a do-it-yourself moving truck in the gravel drive and a minivan parked closer to the house. He couldn’t help but notice the flower bumper sticker on the mom-mobile. A bright yellow daisy.

      Not trespassers. Someone was moving in. Mitch slowly drove around both vehicles, assessing the situation.

      The yard showed evidence of a recent mow, and the branches of the ancient redbuds that lined the drive had been pruned. Even the hedges around the pale gray clapboard home had been trimmed back. The place showed a glimmer of its old self though it needed a good paint job.

      When a football sailed over the hood of his patrol vehicle, Mitch’s foot automatically hit the brake. He glanced left and then right. A dark-haired boy about eight years old stood off to the right, eyes rounded, and a girl of similar age and coloring stood to the left, her expression wary.

      Mitch turned off the engine and unfolded himself from the vehicle. He closed the door and scanned the perimeter a little more closely. Two more children, boys he’d guess to be around four and six, played on the grass beneath a big oak tree.

      “Morning,” he said to the oldest children. “I’m Chief Rainbolt.”

      “I...I...I’m Seth and this is my sister Grace.”

      “Pleased to meet you. Are your parents here?”

      The children exchanged looks that Mitch couldn’t decipher before the boy spoke up.

      “Aunt D is inside.”

      “Aunt D. Got it.”

      Crossing the yard, Mitch stopped to further assess the house. Though the old place held a special spot in his heart, plenty had changed in twenty years. The reliability of the porch steps for starters. They seemed dubious at best. He tapped his boot on each step before putting his weight on them. When he got to the landing, a scream echoed out to him from inside the house. The screen door flew open, banged against the clapboard and a whirlwind of strawberry-blond hair and blue jeans burst across the porch and straight into his arms.

      “Whoa, there.” Mitch stumbled back down the steps to the concrete walk, managing to keep both himself and the woman upright as he grabbed the rail with one hand while his other wrapped around her waist. She smelled like sunshine, cinnamon and apples, an alluring scent that had him captivated.

      “I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “I saw a mouse.” The woman blinked and disentangled herself from his arms. She blinked again, her jaw sagging and her face paling. “Chief Rainbolt?” she sputtered, blue eyes wide. Red splotches of embarrassment covered her cheeks as she stepped back.

      Mitch did a double take. “Officer Anderson?” She looked the same as in the Skype interview except...well, different. During the interview, her hair