Home For a Cowboy Christmas(3)

“Emmy, this is Dwight Reynolds. Dwight, Emmy Garrett,” Dalton introduced them. Then, to Dwight, he said, “I owe you for this.”

“You don’t owe me anything. I’m the one who owed you,” Dwight corrected.

Emmy shivered and fought to keep her eyes open. If she let herself, she could’ve gone to sleep right then and there. It must have been noticeable because Dwight turned his blue eyes to her.

“Consider my home yours. Take your pick of rooms upstairs. Let me know if there’s anything you need,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“You’re safe here,” he added, his look sincere, his manner honest.

Emmy nodded, drowning in his eyes. She believed him. She didn’t know why, especially after everything she had been through. But she did.

Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than to be alone. She had kept everything inside while on the road with Dalton, but it was all about to boil over, and she didn’t want an audience. She turned to the marshal. He opened his arms, and she went to him.

He briefly hugged her, whispering, “Keep the weapon and phone on you at all times.”

She leaned back and looked into his dark eyes. “I will. Thank you.”

“Everything is going to be all right.”

She smiled, knowing the promise was an empty one. He had no idea what he was up against or how deeply the betrayal went in the marshals. “Be safe.”

Dalton flashed her a smile. “Always.”

Emmy licked her lips as she looked at Dwight. She wasn’t sure why she kept looking at him. Maybe because there was a thin thread of hope that she might actually come out of this alive. He gave her a nod and another soft grin. She hadn’t wanted to smile in days, but she found her lips softening in response.

Her body felt weighed down as exhaustion pulled at her, despite how good it felt to be in Dwight’s presence. She forced her attention away from her good-looking host as she walked to the door. Once in the house, she was surprised to find the dog trotting beside her. She was mildly astonished that the home wasn’t decked out with stuffed animal heads everywhere. In fact, it was tastefully decorated with paintings of running horses, other western themes, and historical black-and-white pictures from the Old West.

A quick glance showed a thick fur rug before the massive fireplace. The floor was wood, the sofas brown leather, but he had flashes of color in the red and cream rugs and pictures. The house had to be about four thousand square feet, but it felt homey.

A nudge against her leg reminded Emmy of the dog. She absently petted his head and thought about getting a look at the rest of the house, but her fatigue took precedence. When she saw the stairs, she walked to them with heavy feet. They seemed to go on forever as she climbed, showing four doors once she reached the top.

Emmy ended up taking the first on the right simply because of proximity. She barely made it into the room as it was. She glanced out the window that faced the mountain and saw the waterfall. The soothing blues of the room made her relax even more.

Emmy leaned against the wall and removed her boots, her eyes drifting closed. She cracked them open to set the footwear near the door, hoping she hadn’t tracked any dirt into the house. The dog sat just outside the room, watching her. She gave him another rub behind his ears, then closed the door, locking it before shuffling to the bed. She sat down and let her shoulders droop.

Then the tears came.

She buried her face in her hands as she let the past fourteen hours wash over her.





Chapter 2


The last thing Dwight expected when he got up that morning was to have a voicemail from an old friend. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard from Dalton Silva. Dwight had listened to the succinct message several times, noting his friend’s tense tone.

Dwight stayed close to the house since he wasn’t sure when Dalton would arrive. He had been pouring coffee when Sam’s head popped up from where he lay near the door. That alerted Dwight that someone was pulling up the drive. Less than two minutes later, the small tan SUV rolled to a stop.

With his coffee in hand, Dwight looked out the window and spotted his friend’s profile. Dwight walked onto the porch. His interest piqued when he saw a woman in the vehicle with the marshal. After a few moments, Dalton exited the SUV.

His old friend hadn’t changed much in the five years since they had last seen each other. Dalton’s hair was shorter, and his face had a few more lines. Otherwise, he was the same. There was a genuine smile on his lips when he faced Dwight.

“It’s good to see you,” Dwight said as his friend walked onto the porch. They shook hands, and there was no denying the relief in Dalton’s eyes.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Dalton said.

Dwight glanced inside the SUV to see the woman who had remained behind. Her blond hair was cut blunt to her shoulders. “You look like you’ve been on the road for some time.”

“A little over fourteen hours.” Dalton released a long, tired breath and glanced at the vehicle. “I’m in a world of shit. I hate to put you in this position, but I need help. She needs help.”

“I’ve always told you, I’m here for whatever you need. What can I do?”

Dalton ran a hand down his face, his weariness coming through. “There’s a leak in my department. The woman with me is set to testify against one of the biggest mob bosses in Denver. It was only by chance that I stopped by her hotel last night to check on her. I found a man with a gun against her head. The marshals who were supposed to be guarding her were nowhere to be seen.”