The Bad Boy of Redemption Ranch - Maisey Yates Page 0,3

scrunchie over it into a big messy bun.

Pansy was suddenly incredibly conscious of her own tight ponytail that had not a single strand out of place.

She didn’t know why the contrast between herself and Sammy suddenly hit her so hard. Only that it did.

“Great,” she said, ignoring that weird feeling. “I’m starving.”

“Me too. But I’ve been sampling garlic bread liberally.”

“You slapped my hand when I took some,” Ryder said, coming out of the sprawling ranch house behind her.

“I’m the chef,” Sammy said, pointedly. “I can do what I want.”

Ryder shook his head, but didn’t make further comment.

Like her, her older brother was a rule follower. Though she wasn’t sure if he was one by nature or if he was one by circumstance. It was hard to say.

Not even she really knew when it came to her own self. Because she had a hard time remembering life before her parents’ death in clear detail. It had made her terrified at first. Paranoid. She had been afraid every time Ryder had gotten in his car to drive to town to go to the store, much less go farther afield. And then sometimes she’d remember herself, her behavior, and sadness would overtake her entirely. All the ways she’d disappointed her dad, and how she’d never been able to make up for it.

What she found solace in was her dad’s legacy. She had found purpose in it. She had focused in on it. And she had come to the conclusion that if she was in authority, she might feel a little more control over her life.

Ironic, since her dad had clearly still been vulnerable enough to die in a plane crash. But somehow it all made sense. In a strange way.

And even if it didn’t make sense when it was all spooled out in front of her like that, she didn’t much care.

In the end it might not make her safe. But it would make her good. Would do his memory proud. And that... Well her real fear was that she might not manage that.

She would rather be carrying a gun either way.

“Just as long as you left some for me,” Pansy said. “I’m starving.”

She walked across the gravel drive, and the four ranch dogs seemed to sense her presence, running in from the direction of the barn barking with glee. The little pack was much like her family. Ragtag and thick as thieves. Comprised of a malamute, an Australian shepherd, a border collie mix and an unidentifiable rescue mutt Rose had found on the side of a highway.

“Yes, yes,” she said, bending down and petting the dogs. “I’m here.”

It wasn’t long before Logan followed up behind the dogs, his cowboy hat pushed up off of his forehead, dirt on his chiseled face, his blue eyes shining all the brighter for it. “Afternoon, Pansy,” he said.

“Hi yourself,” she said.

Logan wasn’t blood related to them, but he was like a brother to her all the same. His mother had been killed in the plane crash with her parents. He’d been staying with them for the duration of the trip, and he’d never left.

“Arrest any bad guys today?” he asked.

“It’s Gold Valley,” she said.

“And?”

“No.”

It wasn’t like they didn’t have crime, but actual arrests weren’t a daily occurrence. There was a handful of regular troublemakers who got into scrapes now and then but didn’t pose much of a threat to anybody in the community.

Of course drugs were a problem, no place was immune to that. Then there was domestic violence, which crossed all economic lines.

There were crimes that as far as Pansy could see came from a certain kind of desperation. Then there were crimes that were just hideous. Insidious. Urban, rural, rich, poor. No place or person was totally safe.

She was lucky, living where she did, that she didn’t see a host of terrible things—the population was sparse, and there was a lack of anonymity in small towns that made it difficult to hide. But they had their issues.

“Thank you for your service,” Logan said dryly.

“I’m not in the military.”

He gave her a mock salute and headed toward the house. Pansy rolled her eyes. “Is Rose here?”

“Yes,” Sammy said. “She shouldn’t be far behind. I think she was out doing chores with Logan today.”

Logan, Ryder, Iris and Rose still all lived at Hope Springs. Sammy’s camper van had been parked on the property for the most part since she was sixteen years old. She would leave for a while to sell jewelry at different markets and