A Baby For The Deputy. Cathy Mcdavid

the mountains, waiting for dusk to fall and the stars to come out. Faint strains of piped-in music drifted to her from the patio.

      “Hiding?”

      Hearing Aaron’s voice, Mel jumped.

      “Are you okay?” He strolled over to her, his eyes roaming her face. “What’s wrong?”

      Did he have to look as good in jeans and a cowboy shirt as he did in his uniform? “Just tired. It’s been a long week.”

      “You need to take better care of yourself.” He raised his hand and rubbed a knuckle along her jawline. The tender gesture nearly undid her.

      It wasn’t like him to break the rules. Her, either. No intimacies away from the motel where they typically met. Boundaries were to be respected.

      But, then, she remembered she was two weeks late.

      “Aaron.” She suddenly wanted to confess everything. The fact she was late. Her increasing feelings for him. Her constant confusion.

      Wasn’t that what couples did? Communicate?

      Except, they weren’t a couple. They were sex buddies. At her suggestion and insistence.

      “What?” he prodded.

      “Nothing.” She pushed off the hitching post. “We should get back to the party.”

      At that moment, an older pickup truck going too fast pulled into the parking lot, its tires squealing. Aaron tracked its slightly slower progress to the back row and the only available spaces.

      “Someone you know?” Mel asked.

      “If it’s who I think it is, I ran into her yesterday.” He was no longer Aaron but Deputy Travers. “Do you recognize the truck?”

      She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

      Just then, she heard the truck door slam and watched a young, slim woman navigate the parked vehicles, purpose in her stride. Rather than enter the café through the main entrance, she went directly to the outdoor patio.

      “Maybe she’s someone’s plus one,” Mel mused.

      “I’ll be back,” Aaron said, barely acknowledging her.

      She’d seen this determination before when he was on the job. Did this stranger have something to do with the horse thefts?

      “Wait!” She trotted after him, refusing to be excluded.

      She reached the patio moments after Aaron. The young woman stood near the food tables, searching the room. Cupping her hands to her mouth, she shouted, “Where’s Ray Hartman? I need to talk to him.”

      For a wild second, Mel thought the young woman was delivering a singing telegram. Except, she didn’t wear a costume. Unless one counted that ratty old ball cap.

      “I’m Ray.” Mel’s father, beaming as if he, too, was expecting a birthday surprise, emerged from the crowd, a heaping plate of food in his hands.

      “Do you recognize me?”

      “’Fraid not.”

      “I’m Samantha Egherman.” She glared at him. “Your daughter. I’m here for my share of the lottery money.”

      Bursts of laughter vied with gasps of disbelief.

      “Who’s that?” someone asked.

      “She said she’s Ray’s daughter,” another answered.

      “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”

      Mel was convinced she’d misheard the young woman. Then, like everyone else in the room, she looked at her father. His expression wasn’t one of surprise but rather guilt and resignation.

      This couldn’t be happening. Samantha Egherman? Mel had never heard the name before.

      Her ears started ringing, the sound increasing in volume until it blocked out everything else.

      His daughter? That made no sense.

      Slowly, Mel’s father set his plate on the nearest table. Facing the young woman, he said, “Samantha,” as if testing her name.

      In that instant, Mel knew the outrageous claim was true. She had a half sister. More than that, her father had apparently known and hadn’t told anyone.

       Chapter Three

      Aaron and the other partygoers watched the train wreck unfolding before them with a mixture of surprise, embarrassment and sympathy for those involved. And, of course, morbid fascination. Ray repeating the young woman’s name was the equivalent of two locomotives colliding. Mel’s startled cry of distress was the first piece of wreckage flying.

      Worried by the unsteady way in which she swayed, Aaron pushed past several people to reach her.

      “I got you,” he said, grasping her elbow.

      “I don’t believe it.” She lifted her face to his. “I don’t want to believe it.”

      Well, who would? Discovering you had an eighteen-year-old sibling wasn’t typically on anyone’s bucket list.

      “Are you okay? You’re shaking.”

      “Okay? You’ve got to be kidding.” She gave a brittle laugh and then bit back a sob.

      “I’m happy to see you, Samantha,” Ray said. “Finally. I’ve been waiting a long time.”

      The young woman glared at him. “Look. All I want is my money. Then I’ll get out of here.”

      Her money? Aaron thought she had some nerve. Make that a lot of nerve. Ray had bought the winning ticket. The money was his to gift to whomever he chose.

      “Is she scamming Dad?” Mel obviously didn’t see the resemblance between her and Samantha that Aaron had noticed yesterday.

      “Just wait.” He increased his hold on her. “Give them a minute.”

      Mel briefly resisted before relenting, which probably had more to do with Frankie’s warning glance than Aaron’s advice.

      “Why don’t you have some supper?” Ray offered Samantha a smile. “You must be hungry. Then we’ll go home. Continue this discussion in private.”

      “I don’t want any food,” she said, her voice tight.

      “All right then.” He turned and addressed the entire room. “Thank you everyone for coming and making this birthday special. Please stay and enjoy all this great food. My...daughter—” he glanced at Samantha “—and I are leaving.”

      After that, Aaron couldn’t stop Mel from rushing to join them. Her sisters, Frankie and Ronnie, beat her there.

      “Dad,” Mel said, “you don’t have to do this. You have no proof she’s who she says she is.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      Aaron wasn’t sure which of his daughters Ray was apologizing to and what for.

      “Is it true?” Frankie demanded. “Is she our sister?”

      Ray’s smile faltered. “We’ll talk about this at home.”

      “Yes, it’s true,” Samantha insisted.

      “Oh, God.” Frankie blinked rapidly as if that could halt the tears filling her eyes.

      “I know you.” Ronnie nudged Mel aside and pointed at Samantha. “I’ve seen you compete. You’re a barrel racer. A national junior rodeo champion. You turned professional this year.”

      Being recognized visibly upset Samantha. She didn’t let it faze her, however, and rallied by raising her chin. “I know you, too.”

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