Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1 by BJ Wane (good books to read for 12 year olds .txt) 📕

stumbling back when her eyes landed on the dead cat lying in a pool of blood on the welcome mat, a note pinned to its shoulder.

YOU’RE NEXT.

Shaken, Lisa slammed and locked the door, then sank to the floor and sobbed into her hands. What had she ever done to deserve such hatred? She no longer cared if the idea of running away, leaving the only city she’d called home, caused her grief. This latest threat left her no choice but to get away as fast as possible. As soon as she got herself under control, she called Father Joe.

“Okay, Father,” she said when he answered. “I agree, I need to leave for a while.”

“What’s happened, child?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She wasn’t that lost, frightened child he’d first met anymore, but at that moment, the insecurities she remembered after her mother died came rushing to the surface in full force. Her tone wobbled as she described the poor cat, her heart continuing to pound against her chest.

“If he can do such a cruel thing, I have no doubt he’s serious about hurting me. I can get hold of the principal tonight and request an emergency leave. Just promise me one thing, Father.”

“Anything, if it will get you to agree to go to Idaho for a while.”

“Don’t let any of those men know I’m coming. Please. If I get that temporary position, two months’ absence should be enough for him to lose interest in me.”

He hesitated, and she held her breath, hoping he would agree. When he did, it was with obvious reluctance.

“Okay, but promise you’ll contact me when you get there.”

“I will, Father.”

Chapter Two

“Have you given any more thought to running?” Lyle Fenton asked Shawn the minute he stepped inside the county office.

Placing his fists on his hips, Shawn sent his boss, the sheriff, an irritated look. “I just finished my shift, and you’re already hounding me.”

“Hey, time’s wasting. You only have another week to put your name in. The election is just seven months away.”

Shawn swept by Lyle and tossed his hat onto his desk, still unsure whether he wanted to get into the politics of law enforcement. Lyle planned to retire this year, and as the deputy sheriff with the most time under his belt, he supposed he was the logical person to take his place. Problem was, he’d been contemplating returning to ranching full-time, alongside Dakota, ever since an un-scratchable itch had taken up residence between his shoulder blades right before his thirty-fifth birthday. So far, he’d failed to find a reason for his discontent or a remedy to alleviate his recent dissatisfaction with life. He’d hoped buying Spurs would give him the extracurricular activity and up-kick he was craving. But the second-floor renovation was just completed and the grand opening planned for tonight, and he still found himself mired in a funk.

Kevin Holmes, the second-shift new hire, cast them a curious glance from his seat at the switchboard. With a huff, Shawn faced Lyle again.

“I wouldn’t be good at kissing ass, Lyle. You know that.”

Lyle folded his tall, lanky frame into his chair behind his desk. His handlebar mustache twitched with the derisive curl of his mouth. “Trust me, I know. That doesn’t negate the fact you’d be good at the job. In fact, I view your honesty and low tolerance for BS a point in your favor.”

Shawn pulled out the tickets he’d written that day and tossed them to Kevin to log in on the computer. Other than breaking up a noon brawl at the Watering Hole, Mountain Bend’s only bar, and answering yet another domestic disturbance call from the Campbell’s neighbor, Gladys Archibald, his day had been uneventful. He still simmered with frustration over Louise Campbell’s refusal to press charges against her abusive, good-for-nothing husband, Chester, but as he’d learned from all the other times he’d been called to the house, there was nothing he could do about it until she was ready to say she’d had enough.

“I’ve got a week, yet. Let me give it some more thought.” He sat down to write up his daily report, ignoring Lyle’s grunt, eager now to clock out and go for a long, vigorous ride on his dun Mustang, Nevada.

Thanks to daylight savings, the sun still shone bright when Shawn left the precinct and slid behind the wheel of his cruiser, the use of the sheriff’s vehicle just one of the perks of working for the state. Mountain Bend was an eclectic blend of the old and new, tourists drawn to the nearby ghost town attraction along the river. The well-preserved original buildings dating back to the 1880s mining days were toured by thousands every year. Early travelers were already trickling in, as he noted by the full parking lot at the brewery steak house on the edge of town, and the no vacancy sign at the hotel.

Mountain Bend’s small population of year-round residents almost doubled during the summer months, the extra revenue enough to see them through the long, cold winters when they had their town to themselves. The extra work meant a lot of overtime for the department and kept Shawn away from the ranch way too much during the nicest weather when he enjoyed being out on the land the most. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away from the job he loved and used to reap such satisfaction from.

He hated his recent wishy-washy decision making and uncertainty, and hoped it was a temporary side effect of whatever was causing his discontent. Opting to take the rural, two-lane country road to the ranch, he took his time, well aware he was stalling before going out to Spurs. He wasn’t in the mood for socializing but was obligated to show up for their new opening as an owner and to introduce