Excerpt of Saving the Sheriff by Roxanne Snopek

What a way to spend Christmas Eve.

Sheriff Red LeClair tucked his chin into his chest, the
fresh assault of stinging snow enough to take his breath
away. He crunched through the ice-crusted path to the
field
where a small band of wild mustangs waited patiently,
barely
visible as shadows against the nighttime backdrop of
cedar
and fir.

“Carson spoils you, you know,” he called to them, tossing
a
bale of hay onto the ground beyond the beam of light
thrown
by his pickup. The weather forecast had predicted a dump
of
snow over the next few days, but the wind had caught them
all by surprise. The livestock would be burning a lot of
fuel just to stay warm.

Red threw down a couple more bales, and with a quick
flick
of his utility knife, cut the twine, spilling fragrant
splits of summer over the snow. Beneath the heavy-duty
leather gloves, his fingers were stiff with cold, but he
wasn’t really complaining. In fact, he’d leaped at the
chance to look after Three River Ranch while his friend
was
away. Tramping through the snow, freezing his butt off,
was
a damn sight better than watching endless Miracle on 34th
Street reruns in his empty Lutherton apartment.

Whoever said there’s no place like home for the holidays
obviously didn’t buy groceries in single-serve portions.
Christmas was a hell of a time for a guy with no family
to
speak of, who’d signed his final divorce papers less than
a
month ago. He climbed back into the truck and pulled away
from the corral. At least this year was better than last
year.

He pushed the thought out of his head and forced himself
to
focus on his chores. Work hard, be friendly, but don’t
let
anyone get close enough to hurt you. That was his mantra
now. Every howl of wind made the walls shriek and groan
and
he could feel the temperature dropping by the minute. He
added an extra measure of kibble in case he had to hole
up
inside and wait out the storm. Water lines clear, check.
Fresh feed for the saddle horses, check. Clean stalls,
check. Gates, doors and latches secure, check, check and
check.

He slogged back to the truck, thinking about the
casserole
Rory’s housekeeper Bliss had left in the refrigerator for
him, wishing he’d remembered to bring beer. And some
action
movies on DVD. Lord knows it would be slim pickings on
TV.
He’d spent last Christmas watching the tube blindly,
letting
tinny laugh tracks and remixed music wash over him as he
sat
numbly in the debris left by Kayla’s departure. This
year,
he had the lights and decorations on Rory’s pretty tree
sparkling in the corner. Second-hand joy was better than
none. But those old favorite movies and carols still hurt
too much. He pulled the truck door open against the wind
but
before he could step in, the gale yanked it from his
hands.
He barely managed to haul it shut behind him. This storm
was
really working itself up. He couldn’t wait to get indoors
again. He’d nuke a heaping plate of that Bliss special,
bum
a couple of beers off Carson and channel surf until he
found
Dexter or Sons of Anarchy. Even CSI or Criminal Minds
would
do. But just before he turned the ignition, he heard a
sound
he shouldn’t have. An engine revving, tires spinning on
ice
and the bone-jarring sound a clutch makes beneath an
impatient foot. Three River Ranch had a trespasser.
…

Thank goodness she’d had time to switch out the black
plastic boots for proper footwear, thought Frankie Sylva,
looking down at her ridiculous elf suit. It was hardly
suitable for being stuck in a truck and buried in snow.
But
teachers-on-call couldn’t let any job go by, however
short
or humiliating. Especially when that job dove-tailed with
the other passion in her life: animal rescue. She’d
succeeded, and that gave her a glow that even the
stinging
snow couldn’t erase.

Score one for the good guys! The precious creatures she’d
transported to the Three River Ranch sanctuary would now
have a chance to live as nature intended, rather than
being
turned into Christmas dinner. Or trophies on a wall.

She shuddered. Focus! She tugged the ridiculous puff-
ball-
topped toque further onto her head but it did little to
protect her from the frigid wind, which seemed to get
stronger every second. Frankie stood on the upside of the
gentle slope into which the rear tires of the trailer had
slid when she’d attempted to pull it from the corral
gate.

Invisible ditch. Good one, Universe.

The snow around her was dirt-spattered and hoof-trampled
but
she couldn’t help that now. She needed a tow truck.
Unfortunately, she found her cell phone lying on the
floor
of the cab in a puddle of melted snow, dead as a
doornail.

No blaming that on the universe. If only she’d told
someone
where she was going over the holidays, maybe there would
be
a chance a friend would come looking for her. But this
year
was an aberration. Normally, she roasted a turkey and
invited everyone and anyone she knew who would otherwise
be
alone.

Then, she’d serve meals at a soup kitchen, clean cages at
the animal shelter, sing in the community choir, whatever
she could to help. There were plenty of causes that
needed
her, and she’d learned to love volunteering at Christmas.
She’d made tons of friends this way.

But they were, as the saying went, the kind of friends
who
help you move, not the kind who helped you move a body.

Or in this case, five bodies. Independence, it seemed,
had
its down side. But this kind of thinking, she admonished
herself, wasn’t the least bit helpful.

Her second-best plan was to unhitch the trailer and leave
it
until the storm blew over and she could dig her way out.
She
shone her flashlight over the connection between her
boss’s
now-empty truck and trailer. The rig had been prepped,
loaded and idling when she’d told the driver he didn’t
have
to make the haul to the slaughterhouse after all, that
she’d
do it for him. He’d tossed her the keys so fast her cover
story was pretty much wasted.

Unfortunately, he’d also assumed she knew how a hitch
worked. Or how to back up on a single-lane road. Or how
to
craft a contingency plan. The animals were free, that was
the important thing. Her evil boss wouldn’t be barbequing
them as burgers next summer.

So she’d miscalculated the storm. So she’d spend the
night
in the truck. She had trail mix. She had a flashlight.
She’d
be okay. It would be fine. And once the sun was up, she
could dig herself out.

“Help you?” Frankie jumped and dropped her flashlight.
Bone-
deep instinct kicked in, a primal watch out, honey! Not
necessarily danger…but maybe. Two words, and oh, baby. No
gruff old-timer, his voice sounded young, strong…and
smoky,
full of…campfire stories…
and marshmallows roasted on fresh-cut branches…

She gave her head a shake. Don’t be an idiot, Frankie. He
was a man with a truck.

“I’m stuck.” She put on her most innocent grin and faced
the
headlights. She couldn’t see a thing through the snow.
“Can
you help me out?”

Three River was supposed to be empty over Christmas. At
least, the ranch’s Facebook page had indicated the family
was in Maui. The mustang sanctuary was well-known among
animal lovers and Frankie felt certain they’d have helped
her cause, if she could have asked them. So she’d taken a
chance that they wouldn’t mind. That in fact, they’d
never
know.

Yet here was a man, from what she could hear over the
snarl
of engines and wind. A man unexpected, in every way. But
what if he was private security? Or worse, a game warden.
Stop it! Think positively, Frankie! Maybe, despite the
little mishap with the ditch, the universe was on her
side
after all.

Maybe this was just a kindhearted local who’d be
delighted
to help out a damsel in distress. The man stepped out,
leaving the engine running and the driver’s door standing
open. This time she caught a glimpse of a cowboy hat and
beneath it, a stubbled jawline. Broad shoulders. And
tall.
He held up a much better flashlight than the one she had,
shining it high, scanning the truck, the listing trailer.
Then scanning her. The beam of light traveled over her
body,
up and down, leaving no inch untouched. Warmth rose to
her
cheeks, prickly in the winter air.

“Wanna tell me who you are and what you’re doing here?”
He
cleared his throat and she thought she heard the glimmer
of
a smile. “Lost on your way to work?”

“Ha-ha.” She sighed and stamped her feet, aching with
cold
now that she was standing still. “Yes, I’m wearing an elf
costume. Can you pull me out or what?”