Snickerdoodle Secrets (River's End Ranch Book 25) Read online

  Snickerdoodle Secrets

  Cindy Caldwell

  Copyright © 2017 by Cindy Caldwell

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 1

  Erica Sloan picked up her pace a little bit as she carefully glanced at her watch, trying not to tip the plate of cookies she was balancing along with the ledgers she’d taken home to work on overnight.

  The snickerdoodles, still warm from the oven, were her second attempt—the remains of the first attempt were so burned she’d had to actually take the trash out of the small cabin she lived in on the outskirts of the ranch. Thankfully, the smoke had cleared quickly after she’d opened all the windows, but she sniffed the arm of the light jacket she’d grabbed from the closet to make sure. Nope, no burnt snickerdoodle smell.

  She hopped up the steps of the Main House at River’s End Ranch, amazed that even though she’d only worked there a few months she felt so at home. A cloud passed over the porch as she stomped the mud off her feet, but even though it threw the building into shade, nothing could darken her mood.

  “You’re awfully peppy today.” Her boss, Dani Weston, narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Erica set the cookies down on her own desk and shrugged off her jacket.

  “What’s wrong with that? I’m always happy,” she said. She hummed a little bit and arranged the ledger on top of the others that held inventory and ordering information for the ranch, and it took her a moment to realize that Dani was staring at her as she leaned back in her chair and tapped her pencil on her desk. “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s nice. I’m happy, you’re happy, what could be better?”

  Erica laughed at the dryness in Dani’s voice. It had taken her a little while to get comfortable with Dani—her sarcastic sense of humor and different world view—but now she would actually call her a friend.

  “I suppose it would surprise you to learn I’m so happy I’ve actually taken up baking,” she said as she plopped behind her desk.

  “You’re joking?” Dani asked as she stood and stretched.

  “No, I’m not joking. I find it relaxing—well, at least when the smoke alarm is turned off.”

  Dani chuckled. She crossed over to Erica’s desk and eyed the plate she’d brought in.

  “Hey, those smell like—” Dani started.

  Erica turned toward the door as Mrs. Weston entered and finished her daughter’s sentence.

  “Jaclyn’s snickerdoodles,” she said, her eyes wide as she sniffed and looked around.

  “Can’t be,” Dani said as she leaned against her desk, her eyes as wide as her mother’s.

  Erica looked from one to the other and then to the plate of cookies. “Actually, they are. Jaclyn gave me the recipe a few days ago.”

  Dani’s eyes grew even wider and her eyebrows rose—an expression matched by her mother.

  Mrs. Weston cleared her throat. “In all the years I’ve known Jaclyn, I’ve never known her to share that recipe. Never.”

  “No, never,” Dani added. “Even though I asked her one time because I wanted to take some to the search and rescue guys. I hadn’t intended to make them myself. Kelsi had offered to help me. But Jaclyn said no.”

  “I asked her once also, since they’re one of Mr. Weston’s favorites, but she turned me down flat, too. Said they were a secret, and she could only give the recipe away at the direction of the fairies.”

  They both stared at Erica for a moment before looking back down at the plate.

  “I—I don’t know why she gave it to me. I didn’t even ask. I don’t really bake. In fact, I burnt the first batch pretty thoroughly. She just came over the other day and handed it to me. Said I was supposed to make them, and I’d know what to do with them.”

  “Ah,” Mrs. Weston said as she exchanged a knowing glance with her daughter. “Good to follow instructions, dear.”

  “Right,” Dani said as she winked at her mother and then smiled at Erica.

  “Want one?” Erica asked, holding the plate out to them with a smile. They did smell pretty good—she’d never made snickerdoodles before but she thought maybe this recipe might actually be a little different.

  “No,” they both said in unison, their palms raised toward Erica as they took a step backward.

  She frowned and sniffed at them again. The one she’d had for breakfast had been great, so she had no idea why they’d decline. She had brought them in hoping to share. There was no way she could eat them all herself.

  Dani’s radio crackled with an emergency, and Dani furiously wrote down all the information she was getting while Mrs. Weston sat down in the chair beside Erica’s desk. They waited as Dani finished up her conversation and reached for her search and rescue gear.

  “Be careful, sweetheart,” Mrs. Weston said as they watched Dani head for the door.

  “Thanks, Mom. I will be.” She squeezed her mother’s hand and pecked her on the cheek before she shrugged on her coat. She was halfway out the door before she turned back to Erica and said, “Oh, Emma asked me to mail that package since she and Chad were heading to the golf course for the day before the new UPS store opened. She asked if I could mail it today and I won’t be able to. Would you mind—”

  “Consider it done,” Erica said as she waved her hand, and Dani nodded and left.

  “Thanks. You’re the best,” Dani said over her shoulder.

  She hopped up and grabbed the box Dani had pointed out and set it on her desk so that she wouldn’t forget to send it when she was finished with Mrs. Weston. She didn’t know her all that well yet, and she was curious about what she could want.

  “How can I help you, Mrs. Weston?” Erica slid the plate of cookies to the far side of her desk and leaned forward.

  Mrs. Weston took off her gloves and set them in her lap—a defense, Erica guessed, against the unpredictable weather of spring at the ranch.

  Erica waited as Mrs. Weston stood and glanced out the window, watching for a moment as Dani’s truck headed toward the helipad near the golf course and nodded. She crossed over and looked out the door, both right and left, before she closed it and took her seat next to Erica again.

  Mrs. Weston cleared her throat and her ice blue eyes studied Erica’s face, long enough to make her a little uncomfortable. Just as heat began to creep into Erica’s cheeks, Mrs. Weston spoke.

  “Can you keep a secret?”

  Erica’s eyebrows rose and then she frowned. “Secret? From whom?”

  Mrs. Weston shrugged her shoulders. “Everybody, I guess.”

  “Even Dani?”

  “Especially Dani,” she said as she leaned forward, her elbows on Erica’s desk.

  “Um, well, that’s kind o
f not—um, professional,” Erica said, hoping her voice didn’t sound as thin to Mrs. Weston as it did to her. “She’s my boss.” On the other hand, Mrs. Weston and her husband owned the ranch, so did that make them her boss?

  “It’s nothing sinister, I promise you. More like a surprise.” Mrs. Weston waved her hand in the air as if shooing away a fly, and Erica exhaled her rattled bundle of nerves that had instantly formed with the request.

  “Oh, a surprise. For Dani?”

  “Yes, yes, exactly,” Mrs. Weston said. “You know, she won’t let me help at all with her wedding arrangements, wanting it to be small, as you know. It’s just—well, I wasn’t here for Kelsi’s and a mother has things she wants for her daughter’s wedding. I was hoping you could help me order some items but not breathe a word.”

  Erica sat back in her chair and took in a deep breath. Whew—she could do a secret. No problem. And she was very fond of Dani, so it sounded kind of fun.

  “Sure, Mrs. Weston. I’d be happy to help,” she said, and stood as Mrs. Weston did the same and headed toward the door.

  “That’s great. I knew I could count on you. I’ll bring you a list soon. We don’t have much time. The wedding will be here before we know it,” she said as she opened the door pulled on her gloves. “Thank you.”

  Erica sat down slowly and watched out the window as Mrs. Weston headed toward the Old West town. She wouldn’t mind at all helping make Dani’s wedding more special, and since her mother was so far away, she actually looked forward to spending some time with Dani’s mom.

  She reached for her ledger and opened it, and the cover of the big book bounced off the plate of cookies, knocking the package Dani had asked her to send on the floor. She jumped up and rounded her desk, relieved that whatever had been in it wasn’t breakable. She scooped up the letter and the new gloves and placed them back in the box. She couldn’t help but notice the address on the letter, and she stopped short for a moment, that familiar knot appearing instantly in her stomach.

  She sat slowly in her chair and swore she wouldn’t cry as she glanced at the only personal picture on her desk—a young man in a uniform smiling at her, sitting proudly in front of the flag he defended and paid a high price to honor.

  She glanced back down at the address on the letter and took a look at the cookies. Maybe the soldier the gloves were going to might like some snickerdoodles, since nobody else wanted them. She scooped them up into a plastic bag and placed them in the box under the gloves. She taped it closed after she’d copied the address on a post-it note.

  Grabbing her coat, she placed the package under her arm and headed toward the UPS store, hoping the snickerdoodles would give someone comfort in that far away, lonely place.

  Chapter 2

  The tin bowl clanked as Sergeant Randy Stanton dropped the dry food into it, splashed it with water and swished it around. He glanced over at the sleeping German Shepherd in the corner and swished again, hoping that maybe today the service dog would perk up his ears and then eat something.

  Rocky didn’t even lift his head, and closed his eyes again even as Randy dropped the bowl of food right by his nose. He knelt and stroked Rocky’s soft fur, and admired the classic German Shepherd markings—he truly was a handsome dog, and he wished for the millionth time that he could make him feel better.

  “Still won’t eat?” his CO said as he pushed the door to the makeshift shelter open and let it fall shut behind him.

  Randy turned and saluted before he hung his head, his hands on his hips. “I’ve tried everything, sir. Everything I can think of, anyway.

  His CO moved aside some maps and set a box wrapped in brown paper down on the small table before he crossed the room and knelt by the sleeping dog. Rocky hadn’t even looked up when he’d come in, and in the four years Randy had served with Rocky and his handler, Jacob, he’d never seen him like this. Granted, since Jacob had been killed a week prior, Randy himself hadn’t felt much like eating, either. Or sleeping. Or smiling.

  “Thank God for coffee.” His CO shook his head, stood up and poured himself a cup. Randy noticed that his eyes were red, too, and he realized that there likely weren’t too many people in camp who had gotten much sleep since Jacob’s death.

  His CO sat down at the small table in the corner and nudged the box toward Randy. “Not sure how we even got mail delivery way out here, but this came for you.”

  The wind howled through the temporary shelter and Randy buttoned his camouflage jacket. He reached for the package and smiled at the return address—River’s End Ranch in Idaho. He hadn’t seen Chad in years, but since his brother had married Emma, he’d received regular letters and care packages.

  He looked up as his CO handed him an envelope as well. When he looked at the return address, he let it fall to the table as he turned toward Rocky. From behind him, his CO said, “We all know what that letter is. Is it really time for you to decide if you’re staying in or moving on?”

  Randy shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the letter. “Sure comes fast, doesn’t it?”

  The older man stood and Randy took a step back.

  “Sure does,” he said as their eyes met. “And if I’d asked you two weeks ago what you were going to do, I would have already known the answer. You’re an outstanding asset to our efforts here, and I know you’re pretty attached.”

  Randy turned away and Rocky lifted one eyelid when he came near. “Yes, sir, I have been. Have really enjoyed my years here in the Army. Not sure what else I’d do, anyway. No family.”

  “I know you have family, son. A brother, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. But he just got married and I haven’t seen him in years and years.”

  “No, you don’t take all your leave, that’s for sure,” his CO responded as he stood over Rocky.

  “And what about this poor fella? It’s almost been two weeks since we lost Jacob. I know this sounds harsh, but if we can’t get him back to work, we’re going to have to retire him.”

  Randy’s breath caught in his throat. Rocky was the best service dog he’d ever worked with in all his years in the service. He’d seen dogs lose their handlers lots of times, unfortunately, but he’d never seen one quite like Rocky, who’d laid down at the foot of Jacob’s cot and pretty much hadn’t gotten up since, only if it was absolutely necessary.

  “Sir, isn’t there something we can do? Rocky’s saved hundreds of men in search and rescue. He’s the best—”

  His CO held up his hands and stopped him. “I know, son. I know. I’ve never seen a dog like him, either. But sometimes we have to make tough decisions. Can’t let our men be at any risk at all, and if Rocky’s not a hundred percent, well...”

  Randy sighed and sat on his cot. He stroked Rocky’s head and glanced at the picture of Jacob on the desk—covered in mud, a big smile and kneeling by Rocky.

  “Tell you what,” his CO said as he stood and pushed the chair in at the small table. “How about you take some leave. Go visit your brother, take Rocky with you and see if maybe he can get his bearings away from here. Things are quiet right now, and I think you both could use some R & R.”

  “Oh, sir, I don’t think—”

  “If you can’t do it for yourself, do it for Rocky,” he said when he was halfway out the door. “Think about it. You can let me know tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Randy said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  He paced a few minutes with his hands behind his back. The sound was almost something he’d become immune to, but he stopped short when distant gunshots rang out—very distant—and Rocky’s head perked right up, his tongue lolling out in a pant.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Randy said as he scratched behind the dog’s ears until he rested his head on his crossed paws once again and his breathing became regular.

  Once his eyelids dropped, Randy reached for the package on the table. He opened it, and smiled as he read the enclosed note.

  I hope you enjoy these. I’m pretty sure it’s
very cold where you are. Not much, but wanted you to know Chad and I think of you often.

  Your sister, Emma (and Chad)

  Randy sat down and reached in the box, pulling out a pair of gloves—soft, warm ones that he pulled on immediately—and a clear plastic bag that looked like it was full of cookies. He never got cookies—well, sometimes when his bunkmates shared some he’d gotten from home—and he figured that his brother was pretty lucky, marrying someone who was thoughtful and could bake. Their mother sure hadn’t been much of a cook.

  He opened the bag and breathed in deeply, his nose tickled by the scent of cinnamon. He reached inside, gloves and all, and bit into what he was positive was the best cookie he’d ever tasted in his entire life. It melted in his mouth and he could taste the butter—real butter!

  He’d finished one and was on his second when he felt hot breath on his knee. When he looked down, his heart leapt at the sight of Rocky actually panting, his tail wagging as he stared at the cookie in Randy’s hand.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said as he reached in for another cookie. “Sit.”

  Rocky quickly sat, his eyes not leaving the cookie in Randy’s hand. Jacob’s voice rang in his ears—“Service dogs need to eat service food”—but he was pretty positive he’d seen his friend sneaking some things from mess when nobody was looking. And he was equally positive that those things ended up with Rocky every once in a while, so he figured a cookie couldn’t hurt. Especially since they were the best cookies he’d ever tasted.

  He held the snickerdoodle out to Rocky, who gently took it in his teeth and went back to his bed, lying down and savoring the cookie before he rested his head back on his paws.