The Sheriff Of Sage Bend

“I dozed off, too.”

“What time is it?” She covered a yawn and turned to look at the clock on the wall. “Five? Crud. I need to shower.” She rose quickly. “The search party’s going to meet at six?”

He nodded.

“Cripes! I forgot I don’t have my truck.” She glared at him, dispelling all fantasies he’d harbored a moment ago.

“I’ll run you to get it after your shower. Meanwhile, I’ll head home and take one myself. Need any help with your morning chores?”

“No, thanks. You’ve done enough.”

“Okay. See you in a bit.”

When he walked outside, the dogs circled and nipped at his heels. “Hey, knock it off!” He kept an eye on them over his shoulder as they followed him to the Blazer, barking once he was inside.

It was as though they were telling him what he already knew. He didn’t belong here with Miranda.

And he’d do well to remember that.

MIRANDA TRAILERED RANGER, her black gelding, over to the stables. Searchers were already gathering, along with a couple of reporters from the local press. Lucas had brought his own horse, too, a stocky buckskin. Within a short time, Miranda had Ranger saddled, ready to ride. A silver SUV pulled up by the barn, and a tall man wearing a ball cap—Kyle Miller—unloaded a black German shepherd from the back. Miranda had expected a bloodhound. Then again, she’d seen other breeds used for tracking. She watched as Kyle spoke to Lucas, then the two came toward her and Paige.

“Kyle,” Miranda said. “I haven’t seen you since ninth grade. I almost didn’t recognize you with the mustache and all.” He sported a neatly trimmed, goatee-style beard.

“I’ve been hearing that ever since I moved back to Montana,” he said, his dark eyes taking her in.

“Thank you for coming, Kyle,” Paige said.

“I’m happy to help. I’m just sorry I couldn’t get out here yesterday. We were conducting a search for a lost child over in Blue Ridge Park. Found him, safe and sound.” Kyle beamed proudly at the big shepherd. “If your daughter is out there, Blackhawk will find her.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Do you still ride?” Miranda asked. “Will your dog follow a horse?”

“I ride, and Blackhawk will stick with me. But to work the scent, I need to be on foot.”

“That’s fine, but it’s a ways out to the place where Shannon’s trail disappeared. It’ll be faster to get there on horseback.”

“That’ll do. We can work the trail from there. I’ll need an item of Shannon’s clothing, preferably something she’s recently worn.”

“I already have it,” Paige said. She handed over a paper bag. “It’s one of her T-shirts.”

“Perfect.”

“Okay,” Miranda said. “Let’s go.”

Kyle mounted up on one of the dude horses, and the four of them headed out the east fork, while Garrett and Deputy Mac Frazier stayed behind to supervise a search grid. In spite of the mild early morning temperature, Miranda shivered as they neared the rock where they’d found Shannon’s blood.

Kyle climbed off his horse and traded Blackhawk’s collar for a leash and harness. The dog grew excited. It was time to work. Kyle took Shannon’s T-shirt and let the animal sniff it, giving him encouragement and the command “Go find.”

Miranda watched, fascinated, as the shepherd sniffed the rock, then lowered his head to investigate the patch of blood, which had dried to a dark brown. He circled and immediately picked up a scent. He set off, Kyle clutching the long lead, the pair climbing the steep hillside in a direction Miranda hadn’t taken yesterday. One too steep for the horses to go.

Dismounting, she handed her reins to her mother. “Will you wait here? Hold Ranger for me, Mom?”

Paige nodded. Her anxious expression told Miranda she was afraid of what the dog might find. Which was precisely why Miranda wanted to go without her.

Lucas left the buckskin’s reins dangling. “He won’t go anywhere as long as the other horses stay put, Paige. You’ll be all right by yourself?” He gave Miranda a pointed look.

“I’m going,” she reiterated.

“All right.”

“It’s okay—go,” Paige said. But she looked scared, and the bags beneath her eyes told Miranda she’d cried herself to sleep last night. Paige rarely cried.

Determined to find her sister, one way or another, Miranda climbed.

“We need to keep back out of Kyle’s way,” Lucas said.

“I understand.”

“Now you can see what I was trying to tell you yesterday,” he said. “That Shannon could’ve gone in any direction.”

Miranda’s face warmed with resentment. “I realize that. But I told you. I had to try to find her.”

“We will.”

They continued to climb, the going impossibly steep for a long stretch, the ground too hard-packed and rocky to see footprints. Then Blackhawk and Kyle angled off on a game trail that took a less perilous route. They wound through brush and rock, steadily climbing before dropping down again toward a gully.

“I hope this dog knows what he’s doing,” Miranda muttered. Below, Paige and the horses had become dots in the distance, then disappeared.

“He’s the best,” Lucas said. He paused to catch his breath, forcing Miranda to halt as well, then continued on.

Twenty minutes later, they heard the sound of moving water. Up ahead a wide stream pooled into a small lake. If Shannon had somehow managed to cross the water, would Blackhawk be able to pick up her trail on the other side? The stream definitely wasn’t small enough to jump. So how would Shannon have crossed it, if she were injured?

Unless she hadn’t been on her own.

Miranda swallowed hard, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Briefly, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to calm down.

The brush grew thicker, and Blackhawk and Kyle disappeared into the midst of it. Lucas hurried to catch up, Miranda on his heels. A staccato bark, followed by a triumphant shout, reached their ears as they burst from the cover and came out on the stream bank.

Kyle stooped to praise and pet his dog, rewarding him with a ball on a rope. “Good boy, Blackhawk! Atta boy.”

“What?” Miranda asked. “What did he find?” She didn’t see anything on the rocky creek bed. Then Kyle pointed out a bit of color at the edge of the water.

“There,” he said.

She gasped. A faded, teal-blue scrunchie. The one Shannon had used to pull her hair into a ponytail yesterday before she rode away.

“That’s Shannon’s,” Miranda said, bending to reach for it.