After a good night’s sleep, Brynne decided as she turned off the tree lights with a tap of her bare foot, she’d be in her right mind again.

Probably.

CHAPTER THREE

THE SNOW KEPT right on coming down.

After leaving Bailey’s, Eli stopped by the office, checked in with Melba Summers, the deputy he’d hired in November, after Oliver Boone moved on to another job in another state.

All was quiet on the western front, for the moment anyway, so he clocked out for the day.

That conversation with Brynne, back at Bailey’s, had left him with a lot to think about, and he wanted to do that thinking in a quiet place—his place.

A mile or so out of town, he met a snowplow heading back toward town.

The driver, Laura Wiley, waved as they passed each other, and Eli waved back.

That was one of the best things about living in a place like the Creek—knowing everybody. It gave a person a sense of security, and there were a hell of a lot fewer surprises.

Not that the town was composed of saints and angels; far from it.

The area was populated by human beings, some good, some bad, with the vast majority falling somewhere in between those two extremes.

There were plenty of creeps and lowlifes, that was for sure, but Eli knew who they were, and he kept an eye on them.

Strangers, of course, were another matter, and the Creek got its share of those, too, mostly just passing through. During the big rodeo, in mid-June, for instance, spectators came from all over Montana and well beyond its borders, too.

Most were decent folks, looking to have a good time and go peaceably back home again, but there were thieves, con artists and other no-goods, as well.

At rodeo time, Eli hired temporary deputies and put in eighteen-hour days himself. The town’s Fourth of July celebration could get pretty rowdy, too, but so far, with his regular crew and a few extras, he’d managed to keep the lid on.

His mind tripped back to the kids at Bailey’s—Eric, his nephew, and Carly, in particular. He hoped they’d put off the planned sledding and snowboarding until morning, but they were kids, after all. Invincible.

He’d text Eric later, remind him that he was still on probation; the boy seemed to have undergone a major change of heart, but it would be all too easy for him to fall into his old ways, start hanging out with thugs like Freddie Lansing and his buddies again.

Nothing good would come of that.

If Eric were caught drinking or taking drugs—or running with Freddie and the gang—he’d be headed back to court, and this time, he wouldn’t get off with community service and a stern warning.