He felt her muscles ripple beneath him and he smiled, in spite of himself. Bittersweet memories washed over him and he leaned forward, swaying gently with her rocking motion. He ran his hand over her soft warm shoulder, stroking it fondly, and then sat up straight as he pushed back, stretching his legs in the stirrups. The gentle undulations, the aroma of the leather as it warmed in the afternoon sun, it should have been the perfect way to spend a spring day. That’s how it started anyway.
He glanced down at the tiny bronze-colored hands locked around his waist as he contemplated the fact that it certainly had not worked out the way he’d planned.
Sheriff Dale Harper spoke a comforting word to the palomino mustang they were riding. He drew back the reins to bring her to a stop, before she began to pick her way cautiously down the next hillside.
Goldie had been his wife’s horse, and after Bonnie’s death he’d thought seriously of turning loose of her, like so many other things. She was originally a wild mustang Bonnie had adopted through the Bureau of Land Management folks, but with Bonnie’s good training she had become an exceptionally fine trail horse and companion.
Dale Harper looked over his shoulder at the young ebony-haired girl tucked up behind his saddle. “You doing all right back there, Maria?”
Her expression remained unchanged but she bobbed her head in answer and then looked past him to the tree-studded hillsides they’d been covering for the last hour in search of another child.
“What do you think?” The question came from behind them as Milagro Palacios, Maria’s foster mother, rode up next to them on a small chestnut horse.
The sheriff pulled his gray felt cowboy hat from his head. “It’s one of those days when I try hard not to.” The leather saddle creaked in response as he turned to face her.
The Salvadoran beauty had usually worn a full-flowing denim skirt along with an embroidered peasant blouse when he saw her at the Foot of the Cross Mission where she served as director and also as Maria’s foster mother. Today, the skirt had been replaced with a more practical pair of blue jeans. He realized it was the first time he had ever seen her like this and he liked it. Her long dark hair cascaded in its usual wind-blown fashion past her shoulders. She wore a small, sort of smashed down straw hat with sunglasses. Cowgirl meets Hollywood, he grinned to himself.
Milagro noticed the smile on his face did not alter the grave expression in his grayish blue eyes.
“No matter what I think about this case, it seems to make less sense with every passing minute.”
“And why is that?” She glanced up, shading her eyes from the sun with her hand, despite the dark glasses. Her long, gold chain and pearl earrings sparkled amongst the shining dark curls, further distracting his thoughts.
“I don’t know. Just a feeling.” He shrugged.
“I have been praying for him, the little boy. You said his name was Lonnie, yes?”
The sheriff nodded, rested a hand on the saddle horn in front of him, and stood slightly in the stirrups in his restlessness.
“It is a good feeling I have about it. Strange, like you say, but good.”
“Prayer certainly can’t hurt at this point, but good?” He raised an eyebrow in her direction.
“I do not know exactly, only that it does not feel like it will end badly.”
A deep sigh escaped him and he ran his hand through his wavy chestnut hair before replacing his hat. “Well, that is good because generally the longer a child goes missing, the worse the outcome.” Again their eyes met, but nothing more was said between them.
They had met last year, when he was directed to the Foot of the Cross Mission for assistance with a Spanish-speaking woman who had been in an accident. Milagro had helped him that day and a short time later she had taken in Maria, a child he had found who was desperately in need of a good home, no questions asked. From that time on, their paths had crossed repeatedly—first because of work, but now more often—because he deliberately sought out her company and her advice.
“Maria.” He twisted around the other way in his saddle to look at the dark-eyed ten year old. “Any ideas?”
A shy smile crossed her face as she shrugged in slight embarrassment at the direct question.
¿Qué piensas, Niña?” Milagro encouraged her to speak. “Si tienes una idea, hay que decir. What do you think?” The child only shook her head.
After a cold Ozarks winter, Dale Harper had just been looking for the chance to spend a day outdoors in the sunshine, doing as little as possible. Everybody needed a day like that once in awhile, and he saw fewer than most in his job as county sheriff. He’d been going out to Jack and Doreen’s place the last few weeks to ride Goldie whenever he had a chance. He appreciated more than he could say the way they’d stepped in and stabled her with their horses for nearly two years now, after his whole world came apart that fateful day that he was shot and Bonnie was killed.
Today, his plan had been to spend the afternoon riding, just enjoying the spring season, celebrating the return of so many shades of green to the Ozarks. When he mentioned it to Milagro, she agreed it sounded like a wonderful idea, and in short order, she had volunteered a picnic lunch and Maria’s first experience on a horse was added in as well. It sounded like a full but enjoyable day to him. What he hadn’t counted on was the emergency call about a five year old child, missing in the woods a short distance up the road from Jack and Doreen’s barn.