Out on a Limb. Rachelle McCalla

had just happened was nothing.

      Too bad she didn’t believe herself.

      “There should be some tea in the fridge. Leroy always runs a fresh batch when he gets here in the mornings.” Elise directed him to find glasses and tried to pretend nothing had happened between them. She nuked generous servings of the lasagna and focused on getting lunch on the table so they could be out of there before her uncle returned. Cutch helpfully placed forks and napkins at the tiny table beside the wall.

      “I hope it’s warm through,” Elise apologized in advance as she carried the plates over.

      “It smells delicious,” Cutch assured her as she set the plates down and sat across from him, her knees all but brushing his. Reaching across the table, he surprised her by taking hold of her hand. “Mind if I bless it?”

      The rough touch of his calloused fingers sent a shock right up her arm. “S-sure,” she nodded, unable to form a more coherent response, her mind mostly occupied with his warm touch. The man did crazy things to her heart. She pulled together her thoughts just enough to bow her head as Cutch sent up thanks to God not only for providing the meal but also for keeping Elise safe that morning. He ended with a plea that God would help them find her attackers and that God would keep them safe.

      Cutch gave Elise’s hand a final squeeze before releasing it as he said, “Amen.”

      Elise kept her head bowed and her eyes closed, though she pulled her hand back. How could she even consider that a man of prayer might be guilty of producing drugs or worse yet be associated with whoever had taken a shot at her that morning? Though they didn’t go to the same church, Elise knew Cutch was actively involved in the church he’d been raised in. And though she knew some people resented the power Cutch held as county assessor, most of the people in Holyoake County respected him. It didn’t fit that he’d be involved with the drugs, but she wasn’t certain she could trust her own judgment.

      Silently, she pleaded for God to guide her decisions, especially the decision of when to call the sheriff. Though the McAlisters had hated the McCutcheons for generations, she’d never forgive herself for sending one of them to jail—at least if he was innocent. How could she know?

      Peeking her eyes open, she watched as Cutch took a bite of lasagna. He chewed for a second, smiled and looked up at her. After he swallowed, he pronounced, “Excellent. Did you make this yourself?”

      She blushed at his appraisal and shrugged. “I do most of the cooking. After Mom left when I was six, Aunt Linda, Leroy’s wife, used to bring us supper sometimes. At first I think she figured Dad would eventually remarry. When he never did, she decided her only hope of getting out of the job was if she trained me. Now I try to make it up to her by bringing meals out here, but Leroy likes to sneak off for fast food when he thinks he can get away with it.” She dug into her lasagna and wondered why she’d shared so much. She didn’t usually talk about her mother, but Cutch had a knack for making her babble.

      He seemed to welcome her burst of sharing, too. “Do you ever hear from your mother?”

      “We e-mail. She’s happily married in Oklahoma and has three other kids. They’re almost grown now, too. She’d like for me to come visit, but I just—” Elise caught herself before she shared any more. Why was Cutch so easy to talk to?

      “That must be hard,” he empathized.

      “It’s complicated,” she agreed, hoping he’d leave it at that.

      They ate in silence for a few more minutes until Cutch finished and wiped his mouth, setting his napkin atop his empty plate. “Thank you for the meal. It was delicious. We should be getting on our way. I can wash these dishes while you call the sheriff.”

      Elise froze, her last bite of lasagna poised on her fork midway to her mouth. She set it back down on her plate and looked into his eyes. Could she trust this man? Her father would say no. But her heart seemed to think otherwise. “I thought maybe we could wait to call the sheriff until we get out there and see what we’re dealing with.”

      Cutch felt relief hit him like the first drops of rain after a long dry spell. Of course, he’d been nervous about what Sheriff Bromley might find on his land and what conclusions those findings would lead the lawman to reach. But more than that, Elise’s words held a promise he’d been too hurt to even hope for. She trusted him, however slightly. She was willing to give him a chance, however small. Her concession soothed his parched soul.

      But he couldn’t let her jeopardize her safety on his account. He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to put off calling him. It was selfish of me to voice my fears to you. Go ahead and make the call. Your safety could be at stake.”

      Elise finished her last bite of lasagna and offered him a tiny smile. “The sheriff already told me he was busy today. By calling him once we’ve been out there to see what we’re dealing with, we might actually be able to save him time on his investigation. I’m not risking my safety—not at this point. Once we find something for him to look at, then I’ll give him a call.”

      “But we already have the coordinates for the location of the ammonia tank.”

      “And I already gave you my answer.” She rose and carried their dishes to the sink.

      Guilt hit him like a punch to the stomach. Why had he even said anything? Unless Elise had changed dramatically in the eight years since he’d last been involved with her, he knew once she’d made up her mind that she wouldn’t budge. And everything from her body language to the glint in her eyes told him she’d made up her mind.

      “If anything happens to you—” he began.

      “I’m trusting you to protect me,” she said, her back to him as she ran water to wash their plates. “Now if you don’t mind, there’s a ladder just inside the hangar we were in earlier. If you load that into your truck, we can use it to help us reach my glider.”

      Cutch’s shoulders dropped. “Sure thing,” he answered, knowing he’d been dismissed. Reluctantly, he turned and left her behind, wondering if he shouldn’t just call the sheriff on his own. But she’d be furious with him if she felt he’d gone behind her back. Whatever tiny bit of trust she’d placed in him would be lost.

      I’m trusting you to protect me. Her words filled his heart with a mixture of joy and dread. He felt honored she’d grant him that responsibility, but at the same time, he wondered if he was really up to the challenge. He couldn’t bear the idea of letting Elise down again.

      His mind swirling with all the risks that still lay ahead of them, Cutch headed straight for the hangar without going around the side of the office to see if Leroy’s truck was back, though the time he’d stated for his return had passed a few minutes before. Instead, Cutch hurried inside to fetch the ladder. After the bright Iowa sunshine outside, his eyes took a moment to adjust to the relative darkness of the metal building’s spacious interior.

      As his eyes adjusted, he scanned the walls for the ladder Elise had talked about. He saw an aluminum ladder along one wall and headed over, picking it up and hefting it above his shoulder.

      Just as Cutch began to turn around, Leroy’s voice boomed through the cavernous room, “Well, I’ll be! Is that a rat or a McCutcheon? I wouldn’t waste a bullet trying to shoot a rat, but I would if that’s a McCutcheon there.” The sound of clicking metal echoed through the hangar. “Drop the ladder, boy.”