Fina asked as they followed the sheriff’s marked Expedition down a long, unpaved driveway dotted with trees. “About?” Ryan replied with a shrug. His fingers were moving over his game with their usual intensity. “About Sheriff Powell.” The driveway opened up in front of a low, rambling ranch house clad in cedar. A stand of pine trees stood on the north side and the lawn in front was tidy and separated from the drive by a neat, picket fence. There was a large, red barn maybe a thousand feet behind the house. A herd of black cows grazed in a fenced paddock to the south. “He’s scary,” Ryan answered evenly then his fingers paused on the controls. “Maybe not that scary,” he added thoughtfully and looked around. When he spotted the cattle he stared at them raptly. Fina didn’t know Ryan liked animals. “He’s bossy,” Fina added. “So was your dad.”
