Page 6 of Cautious Love

My phone pings with a text from Cooper.

Cooper: Stop being a grumpy 30-year-old man and come out.

I roll my eyes and grab my gun, badge, and keys, heading out the door.

“Call me if you need me,” I call to Daisy.

“Okay,” she says in this weird, sighing voice.

Oh brother.

I head out the front door of the station, looking up and down the street. Everything is quiet, like it normally is. Hopefully, it’s a quiet day.

Driving through town, I circle the courthouse and weave through the side streets. It’s a sunny day, not too hot. Some of the old folks are sitting outside the Booked Bean drinking their coffee.

I drive past Paxton Flower Shop, Cooper’s wife Mae’s place and down past the bank, coming to a stop at one of the three stoplights we have in town. I’ve got ten minutes left of my patrol, so I start heading back to the station.

My radio goes off. “Uh, Sheriff,” I hear Daisy’s voice.

I roll my eyes at her lack of professionalism and code for using the radios. But I’ve given up on correcting her. My deputies use it the right way, at least.

“We got a call from your sister-in-law, Tate, at the clinic,” she says, and my stomach drops. I grab the radio and turn the truck around, gunning it to the clinic a few blocks down the road. “10-17”, I reply

“They said it’s a 501 for a woman,” Daisy says.

I puff out a breath. Tate’s fine, I’m sure. But another woman isn’t. This is one of the harder parts of my job. We don’t get many calls like these, but when we do, they can be nasty. My heart twists in my chest. I don’t know how any self-respecting man can call himself a man if he hits a woman. They deserve worse than what the law can divvy out.

I park in front of the clinic next to an old wood-sided Jeep Wagoneer that’s seen better days.

When I walk through the sliding doors, I find Tatum standing off to the side, wringing her hands.

Rushing over to her and I grab her elbow to keep her upright because she looks green and a little pale. “Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?” I ask her, trying to guide her to the chair against the wall.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s not the pregnancy, it’s Ledger. She won’t admit it, but …” Tatum trails off and pulls me down the hall.

“They said it was battery,” I tell her. Battery can mean a few different things in the state of Wyoming.

“She won’t say what happened.”

I frown. “Do you think she’s trying to protect who hurt her?”

Tatum shakes her head. “I don’t know, but I have a bad feeling, Ledge. Something isn’t right here.”

I swallow my anger and follow her into the woman’s room, my stomach hardening. It’s important that I walk into this room calm and sure. The last thing I want is for this woman to think I’m not here to help her. But I have to swallow my surprise, seeing the woman I’ve known most of my life, laying in a hospital bed with a swollen face and head patched up with gauze. In fact, I’ve arrested her before when I was a new deputy.

“I’ve seen it before, Ledger. I know what domestic abuse looks like, that’s why I called you,” Tatum whispers.

“But did she say that?” I ask Tatum quietly, still observing Shiloh.

“No, can you please just talk to her? If that asshole did this to her, he should pay,” Tatum says angrily.

I nod, and Tatum glances at Shiloh, still asleep. Or so I thought as she opens her eyes. We study each other, and I give her a minute to adjust.

“Ms. Sullivan, I’m Ledger Hayes.”

She smiles, and I wince, knowing it must hurt.

Chapter 3