I weave my fingers through hers and brush my thumb over her palm in soothing strokes, silently assuring her that everything is going to be okay.
When we get to the shed, Mason steps past Mrs. Bixby.
“Allow me, ma’am,” he says with a gleam in his eye.
He opens the shed door, and even though Birdie knows what he’ll find, she still tightens her grip on my hand.
I press a kiss to her temple and whisper in her ear. “Everything’s going to be fine, remember?”
“Thank you,” she murmurs. “For everything.”
“Always here for you.”
We both watch with bated breath as Mason sticks his head inside the shed.
“What the hell?” he mutters.
“What is it?” Mrs. Bixby pushes her way past him to get a look. “This isn’t possible. Where are the animals?”
The rest of us shuffle in behind them. The faint smell of hay and straw hangs in the air, and a mixture of both is scattered across the floor. Several blankets are strewn about, some chewed at the edges, and an empty water trough and food bowl sit in the corner. It’s obvious animals had been living here until recently, though there’s no concrete evidence without them here.
Sheriff Matterson lets out a low whistle. “Well, would you look at that. No donkey or cow in sight.”
Mrs. Bixby scowls. “I’m positive they were in here just yesterday. I saw them myself!”
He lifts a brow. “Huh. And were you by chance looking around my daughter’s property without her permission when you spotted them?”
Birdie’s long driveway and a line of trees divide their yards, which would have made it impossible for Mrs. Bixby to see Peaches and Daisy from her house.
She scoffs, waving Sheriff Matterson off. “Don’t be silly. I was bringing by a loaf of my famous banana bread but got distracted when I heard a strange noise coming from the backyard. I wanted to make sure no one was hurt.”
“It was probably just Daffy, one of the ducks,” Birdie chirps. “He has terrible indigestion and has a habit of making a racket when he’s eating, the poor guy.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Coming from anyone else, it would be a ridiculous excuse—but with Birdie, it’s totally plausible.
Sheriff Matterson removes his hat and wipes his brow. “Well, there you have it. False alarm.”
Mason steps forward. “But, boss, don’t you want to—”
“Son, I appreciate your concern for the animals and your dedication to the badge, but as you can see, there’s no proof ofany wrongdoing.” He motions around the empty shed. “We’ve got bigger crimes to solve than chasing down livestock that disappeared last year, don’t you think?”
Mason shoves his hands into his pockets, grumbling, “Yes, sir.”
Thank god Peaches and Daisy are safe and sound at the ranch, and we can finally put this all behind us. Wiping that smug-ass grin off Mason’s face was just a bonus.
After the search, I took Birdie to see Daisy and Peaches. When we got to the ranch, Heath and Jensen had already set up a makeshift perimeter so the animals could explore the field next to the shed where they’re being kept. It’s a step up from being cooped inside all day, and Birdie was relieved to see they’d settled in nicely.
Heath even brought his cow Petunia over to spend the day with Daisy and Peaches, and within minutes, they were following her every step. I didn’t miss Birdie’s subtle observations about how well they got along, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Heath ends up with two more four-legged companions.
Afterward, I took her to Silver Ridge Lake. Nestled at the back of the ranch, it’s surrounded by trees, with mountains rising on one side. It’s reserved for my family and guests staying at the cabins. Guests usually rent canoes and fishing gear at the general store, but I made sure that Birdie and I were the only ones here today.
“You’ve got to stop spoiling me like this,” she murmurs, leaning back against me as she takes in the view.
“Where’s the fun in that?” I tease, tracing her bare shoulder as I admire her yellow sundress that shows off her sun-kissed legs—tempting me straight into trouble.
With Briar’s help, I put together a date on the dock, complete with a flannel blanket and throw pillows, an umbrella shielding us from the afternoon sun, and a wicker basket loaded with fresh veggie wraps, caprese skewers, berries, a bottle of sparkling water, and an oat milk latte in a thermos. Afternoon coffee is nonnegotiable for Birdie, and I wasn’t about to make her skip it.
“I think I could stay here forever. It’s so calm and peaceful.” She sighs softly.
