Foothills Field Search
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Maggie Wells
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Chapter One
Brady Nichols’s date for the Daniels Canine Academy tenth-anniversary celebration party whined when he took the sharp curve a shade over the speed limit. They were late. He’d been running a full thirty minutes behind schedule the whole day, and his date was not inclined to be understanding.
So, he was rushing, and Brady hated rushing.
“We’ll be there in a minute.”
She didn’t look at him. No, she simply sat there, staring through the glass with such intensity he was surprised she didn’t cut a hole clean through the windshield.
Idaho wasn’t as overrun as Oregon and Washington had become in recent years, but still, he’d moved to Jasper to get away from Boise and all the complications the city held. He wanted a quiet life. He’d purposefully chosen a location where he didn’t have to be constantly vigilant, and he’d never regretted his choice. But his quiet life wasn’t actually very quiet, and he was getting tired of taking flak from the needy blonde beside him.
He let off the gas as they navigated the next curve, and the Daniels ranch came into view. “See?” he prompted, nodding to a car signaling a turn into Emma Daniels’s drive. He glanced at the clock on the dash, pleased to find he’d managed to recover about ten minutes. “Here we are.”
He swerved to park in the spot on the lawn the young man wearing a yellow mesh safety vest indicated. He recognized the kid as one of the at-risk youths Emma routinely put to work at the DCA. Kevin? Kayson? No, Kyle. His name was Kyle.
Winnie let out a high-pitched whimper of excitement as he set the parking brake. Beside him, sixty-five pounds of pure happiness shivered with anticipation.
“There. We made it.”
Winnie’s sharp bark was one of pure joy, and he leaned over to pop the latch on the harness he used to keep her safely contained. His reward was a big, wet kiss. On the cheek, thankfully. Sometimes, in her exuberance, Winnie forgot they were partners first, friends second and the most significant being in one another’s lives as a by-product of the first two.
He rubbed her silky ears, then looked her in the eyes as he stroked the dog’s cheeks. It was a calming technique Emma had taught him when he first started working with the spirited yellow Lab. She’d been barely more than a pup with big paws, gangly legs and an eager-to-please attitude.
“Hold,” he ordered, reaching for the door handle.
Winnie responded with another keening whimper of excitement, but stayed put. He climbed down from the truck and raised a hand to greet the young man in the vest. “Pulled parking duty, did ya?”
Kyle shrugged. “The safety vest is pretty lame, but it beats emptying trash all night like William. And poor Hugh, he’s the designated scooper,” the kid informed him with a wrinkle of his nose. “I figure most everyone who’s coming will be here in the next half hour or so.”
“Good turnout?” Brady asked as he opened the passenger door.
Kyle motioned for an incoming minivan to park in the spot beside Brady’s. “Yep. Tons of food too. People have been bringing stuff, even though Miss Emma told them not to.”
Brady smirked. “People around here hate to come to parties empty-handed.”
He ran a comforting hand down the dog’s flank. Anticipation had her muscles quivering, but she made no move to exit the vehicle. She wouldn’t until he gave her the go-ahead. He waited until he was certain the van was parked, then snapped his fingers.
Winnie barely gave him a chance to step out of the way. Her nose was pressed to the grass the minute she landed. She was trained from a pup to specialize in search and rescue, so Winnie’s first instinct was to sniff to get her bearings.
“Lots of your friends here today, girl,” he said, clipping her lead onto the vest she wore. Crouching beside her, he snapped twice, and she plopped her butt to the grass, her full attention on him. He framed her face again, stroking her smooth cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sure you’re psyched,” he said in a low, even tone Emma had trained him to use when not giving actual commands. At two years old, Winnie still had a few puppy tendencies. They were working on smoothing out the rough edges together. “Hang with me until we get situated, then you can run with the pack, okay?”
She blinked, but her amber-brown gaze never wavered.
“Good girl,” he said approvingly.
“Is he your doggy?”
The question came at him on a gasp of barely contained awe and delight.
Winnie’s gaze darted past him and her tail thumped the ground hard enough to stir the dust. Brady twisted, still in his crouch, and found a girl with long blond pigtails gazing at them in slack-jawed wonder. He pressed his hands to his knees as he rose.
“Yes, she is. Her name is Winnie, and she is a proud graduate of Daniels Canine Academy. She’s here for her homecoming.”
Winnie’s tail shifted from thump to full swoosh, and the girl beamed her approval. “Wow! She must be real smart. Mama says Miss Emma trains only the smartest, bestest dogs.”
“Your mama is right,” Brady replied, unable to resist returning her gap-toothed smile. “I’m Brady, and I’m a policeman here in Jasper. Winnie is my partner.”
The girl’s eyes widened to the size of quarters. “She’s a police dog?”
“She sure is. Say hello, Winnie,” he prompted, giving the yellow Lab’s head a single pat. At the signal, Winnie let out a bark of greeting, then panted with excited expectation.
“Jillian?”
A woman’s worried cry had all three of their heads whipping around. Seconds later, another slightly taller, but equally coltish girl appeared around the front of his truck. “She’s right here, Mama,” the girl called loudly. Then she eyed him with wary curiosity. “She’s talking to a man.”
Brady tightened his hold on Winnie’s lead when a long, lanky woman with a mane of corn silk hair skidded to a stop beside the girls, an enormous purse dangling from her arm, and a covered dish clutched in both hands.
“Jilly, I’ve told you over and over you can’t run off—”
“But he has a police dog. He’s a policeman,” Jillian replied like this was all the defense she needed. “I was only saying hi.”
Brady aimed a cordial smile at the mother. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her. “I’m Brady Nichols, ma’am. I’m with the Jasper PD.” He glanced down at Winnie, who’d shifted closer to his leg, exerting the barest pressure to her lead. “This is Winnie. She’s here to see some of her old classmates.”
The woman blew out an exasperated breath, then tipped her head in his direction. “Nice to meet you, Officer Nichols. You too, Winnie,” she added.
Her expression warmed as she shifted her attention to the dog, and Brady drew in a sharp breath. The woman was beautiful, but her looks weren’t her most potent weapon. No, it was the pure pleasure he’d seen in her eyes when she found herself on the receiving end of Winnie’s winning doggy grin.
He’d forever be a sucker for women who loved animals.
Glancing toward the large white tent erected between the main house and the outbuildings, he said, “I’m glad I’m not the last to arrive.”
“Oh no, we’re chronically late,” she said, her grimace wan.
Again, recognition niggled at him.
“I’m Jillian Marie Whitaker,” the smaller girl volunteered. “Can I pet your doggy?”
“May I,” her mother corrected.
Brady could tell by the well-rehearsed delivery this wasn’t the first grammar lesson she’d given on the fly. “Sure,” he said, bobbing a nod of assent. Jilly skittered forward, but he held out a hand to stop her. “Has anyone ever taught you how to approach a strange dog?”
She wagged her head so hard those long, silky pigtails whipped her face. “No,” she replied. “I mean, no, sir,” she adjusted, glancing over to her mother for approval.
Brady felt something in his gut loosen as he watched the silent exchange between mother and daughter. Turning his attention to the older girl, he motioned for her to join them. “Hi. I’m Brady. What’s your name?”
“Brook,” the girl answered shyly. Then, realizing her younger sister had set a more formal tone, she rolled her shoulders. “Brooklyn Ann Whitaker.”
Matching her serious tone, he said, “Nice to meet you both. All,” he amended almost immediately. He saw their mother shifting from foot to foot and readjusting the weight of the bag hanging off her arm. “But maybe we can put the lesson on hold for a minute. It looks like your mom might need a hand.” He stretched both arms out and signaled for her to pass over the covered dish. “I’d be happy to carry something for you, ma’am.”
“Her name is Mom, not ma’am,” Jilly interjected helpfully.
“Her name is not Mom,” Brook retorted. “Sheesh, don’t you know anything?”
“Girls,” their mother said in a warning tone. Returning her focus to him, she gave him a half-hearted flash of teeth. “I’ve got it, thank you. And my name is Cassie. Cassie Whitaker. And no, I’m not telling you my middle name.”
The well-rehearsed intransigence in her tone coaxed a bark of laughter from him. “No?”
“She won’t even tell us,” Jilly said in a confidential tone. “It’s a big secret.”
“It’s ridiculous and I hate it,” Cassie said, shaking her hair away from her face. “Come on, girls. We can meet the doggies later. I don’t want Aunt Vera to come looking for us.”
At the mention of the name, the puzzle pieces snapped into place. “Aunt Vera? Oh! Vera from the diner. You’re Millard’s niece,” he said. “I thought I’d seen you somewhere. You’ve been helping out at the diner, right?”
“Technically, Vera’s niece, but yes, I’ve been trying to help out here and there.” The screech of a public address system coming to life yanked their attention to the tent, and worry puckered her brow. “I have to get this over there.”
“You heard the lady, Winnie. Stop distracting these pretty girls.”
He watched as Cassie Whitaker strode ahead, her gaze fixed on the crowd wandering in from all directions. Brook hurried after her mother, but Jilly appeared reluctant to leave Winnie’s side. The stubborn set of her mouth spoke volumes about the rebellions she’d launch in the future, but for now, he wasn’t willing to get tangled in one. He liked his life easy and uncomplicated, and a pretty woman with two precocious children were three complications too many.
“Go on now,” he urged his new friend. “You get us in trouble with your mama, she’ll never let Winnie run with the likes of you.”
She must have enjoyed the notion of getting a grown man in trouble because she aimed her sunbeam grin at him again. “You think Winnie will let me run with her?”
“Definitely. You get on with your mama. Find us after dinner. I hear Miss Emma has a special obstacle course set up. That’s where we’ll be.”
With a soft “Yay!” she gave Winnie a pat goodbye, then skipped ahead to catch her mother and sister.
Brady forced himself to tear his gaze from Cassie Whitaker’s long, tanned legs, but it wasn’t easy. The white denim shorts were more flattering than the T-shirt and jeans she covered with an apron when working at Millard’s Diner.
Once they disappeared into the shadows of the tent, he steered Winnie toward the far end where he saw a few of his colleagues and Winnie’s fellow DCA alums congregated. At his approach, his best friend, Dillon, raised his can of beer in salute.
“You came,” Dillon said, gruff but sounding pleased.
Brady felt a blush prickle his cheeks but hoped his beard masked it. He wasn’t a fan of the spotlight, no matter how small the circle. He rarely attended these town shindigs, mainly because he wasn’t particularly adept at small talk, and so it was hard to imagine anyone would have missed his absence on this occasion.
“I did. The boss insisted,” he added, nodding to the dog at his side. Winnie and Dillon’s dog, Bentley, a spirited Australian shepherd mix, exchanged sniffs in greeting.
“Do you good to get out. Mix and mingle a bit.” Dillon gestured to Brady’s face, then rubbed his own cheek. “Starting to look gristly in your off-hours.”
“And since these are my off-hours, I don’t need any commentary from you,” Brady retorted.
“Saw you walking with Cassie from the diner,” Dillon said. “Cute girls.”
The switch in subjects was so abrupt, Brady gave his head a shake to settle the pieces into place. “Oh yeah. I didn’t recognize her at first.”
Dillon smirked. “Because you hardly look up from your plate whenever we’re in there. You really need to learn how to cook for yourself.”
“I can cook,” Brady argued. “But I don’t see the point in making a mess when it’s only me. I have better things to do.”
“Speaking of your to-do list, do you still need a hand tomorrow?” his best friend asked.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind,” Brady confirmed. He was starting to frame the interior walls on the house he was building, and though he’d devised an elaborate system of clamping and positioning lumber by himself, the task went much faster when there was a second pair of hands on the job.
“No problem, but I only accept cash, credit or pizza and beer. No personal checks.”
“Pizza and beer it is,” Brady confirmed.
The words had barely left his mouth when Barbara Macy, the woman who kept all the balls in the air for the Daniels Canine Academy, stepped to the mic. There was a sharp burst of static, then the piercing screech of feedback as she removed the microphone from its holder. The crowd let out a collective groan, and at his side, Winnie concurred with a soft keening sound.
Barbara spoke into the mic. “I keep telling Emma a live mic is better than a dog whistle, but I still can’t get her to karaoke night at the Bart.”
Brady chuckled with the rest of the crowd. Bartwell Brewing Company had purchased a karaoke setup complete with flashing lights and two microphones for duets, but few of the town’s residents had been brave enough to jump onto the ministage.
“Thank you all for coming out,” she said, beaming at the crowd. “Em said she didn’t want a lot of fuss, but I think ten years of hard work, perseverance and excellence are worth celebrating, don’t you?”
The crowd clapped heartily, and a few whistles, shout-outs and barks punctuated the applause.
She gestured to the tables overflowing with food and gave her head a rueful shake. “I could’ve sworn the invitation said food would be provided. I hope you all brought some plastic tubs to haul all this home. You know Emma is adamant about not feeding table scraps to the dogs.”
“I’ll take the leftovers,” Jason Wright, the rookie on the Jasper PD squad and one of Emma’s foster sons, called out. A few other men in the crowd were quick to volunteer their help as well, including chief of police, Doug Walters.
Ahead of them, Maisy Barton announced, “I brought zipper bags and plastic margarine tubs. A whole box of them!” Then she nudged her teenage granddaughter, who looked like she was hoping the ground would open and swallow her. “See? I told you people would want them.”
Brady ducked his head and his mouth watered. He’d make sure he was in line for some of those leftovers. He was tired of microwave pizza pastries when he wasn’t eating at the diner.
“I’ve asked the woman of the hour to say a few words, but in typical Emma fashion, she keeps trying to refuse.”
Barbara gestured to Emma Daniels, who shook her head in stubborn refusal. Brady cringed inwardly as the assembled crowd called out encouragement, and Emma’s face colored. He felt for the woman he’d come to consider a friend. Mortification was ten times worse when a person was shoved into the limelight.
Brady thought Emma might actually turn and walk straight out of the tent, but then Tashya Pratt leaned over and spoke directly into her foster mother’s ear. Barbara continued to cajole Emma, although Brady could tell the trainer’s focus had shifted entirely to the pretty young vet tech who’d returned home to work by her side.
He saw Emma mouth the word Seriously? as her brows reached for the sky.
Tashya beamed, then waved in their direction, gesturing for someone to join her. Brady saw Jason shouldering his way through the crowd toward the girl he’d loved since they were teenagers, his joyous expression a match for Tashya’s, and now Emma’s.
“Something’s going on there,” Dillon murmured.
Brady couldn’t disagree. The crowd grew restless, murmuring to each other as Barbara’s efforts to get Emma to say a few words appeared to be thwarted. But then Emma strode straight toward the PA system.
Barbara jumped when Emma practically yanked the mic from her hand.
“Thank you all for coming out,” she said, her words booming through the speaker, her shout amplified enough to make several of the dogs in attendance plant their behinds firmly on the ground.
Brady chuckled when Winnie’s rear landed on his foot. She clearly didn’t care; her gaze, along with almost everyone else’s, was pinned on the woman who’d been his dog’s first love.
“Sorry,” Emma said with a grimace. She gestured for Jason and Tashya to join her. “I do appreciate you all coming. I consider you all family, even if some of you only have two legs.” The crowd chuckled, well aware she wasn’t completely joking. “My whole life, you’ve all been so supportive. Of me, of my dogs, of the kids we’ve all tried to help over the years. This party is to celebrate life. Our lives, the lives of the dogs and of those we love.” She glanced over at Tashya, silently asking for her consent, and the younger woman waved eager permission to proceed. “But I’m thrilled to tell you we have something more exciting than an anniversary to celebrate. Today, we get to share in a new beginning. So, lift your glasses and fill your plates. Jason finally put a ring on my girl Tashya’s finger!”
The younger woman held her left hand high and waggled her fingers, showing off a ring so tiny Brady could barely see it from where he stood.
Beside him, Dillon groaned. “Engaged? Another one bites the dust.”
Brady shot his buddy a worried glance, then returned his attention to the woman with the microphone. “To Jason and Tashya.” Emma lifted her glass to toast the engaged couple, and others did the same. “I’m so happy I don’t have to ground either of you for sneaking around anymore.”
