“You have an odd assortment,” Duke remarked, when a very pregnant donkey lumbered up to the fence. “I would have sworn this was primarily cattle and horse country. Where do these all come from?”
“Oh, people drive out from surrounding towns and dump some off in the middle of the night,” Angie said. “Some bring abandoned animals that wander onto their land. I have three sheep from a family whose daughter raised them in 4-H. She went off to college. Her dad is a long-haul trucker, and his wife wanted to go on the road with him. They planned to sell the sheep, but the daughter couldn’t bear the thought of sending them off to be lamb chops.”
Duke laughed. “You’re as soft a touch as Ace, I can tell,” he said as Luke ran up followed by Zorro. The boy stuttered his way through telling his mom he wished their two dogs were this much fun.
“Honey, you know the dogs we currently have were mistreated. They’re afraid of people. We need to be patient.”
“I—I know,” the boy said, as he went to his knees and flung both arms around Duke’s big dog.
“There’s a tennis ball in the backseat of my truck,” Duke said. “If it’s okay with your mom, Zorro loves to play fetch.”
“C-c-can I?” His hazel eyes lit. Duke figured the boy’s father must have had brown eyes, because Angie’s eyes were almost a silvery-blue.
“You may,” she stressed, taking time to point out the difference between can and may.
The adults stood in silence as boy and dog tore back down the path. Duke broke the silence first. “If the only reason you haven’t signed him up for the Wild Pony Race is a lack of teammates, I can ask around and see if anyone in his age group is in need of a third person.”
Angie clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. “I guess you noticed my reluctance to commit about the race. I’m not being mean. His first year of school was difficult. Two weeks into the school year, practically out of the blue, he started to stutter. Our pediatrician says there’s no physical abnormality. He believes Luke will probably outgrow it. I had him tested by the school. When school starts in the fall Luke will meet twice a week with a speech therapist. Call me overly protective, but his condition worsened when other boys picked on him. He’s small for his age and, well, I can’t risk this pony race being another bad experience for him.”
Recalling the difficulties he had with the same problem of stuttering and being teased unmercifully as a kid, Duke nevertheless couldn’t bring himself to share such personal information with Luke’s mom, a woman he’d like to impress.
“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said, “but I see all the entries and usually hear about kids wanting to sign up. I could pass on names of any seven- or eight-year-olds who need a partner, so you can check them out. There are a lot of good kids in Roundup.”
“Lucas has been badgering me since the Sunday he came out of class with that flyer. Okay,” she said slowly. “Call if you hear of anyone needing a partner.”
Duke sensed she still had reservations.
They meandered on and she stepped off the path to fill a scoop from a bin and then she scattered corn for the chickens. They saw a pair of barn cats slink away from where they hid in weeds to watch the chickens. “Those cats,” Angie lamented. “I need to find them homes before my feisty hens give them a lesson they won’t soon forget.”
Her companion didn’t comment, and Angie worried that she was talking too much and was boring him. “We’re nearly at the field where I have the horses turned out. I have an old Shetland pony and two gentle mares I rescued from a urine production line selling to a slaughter house. They’ll make someone good saddle horses. Ah, there’s the old fellow I told you about, plus a younger gelding I rescued from a rodeo-stock contractor who beat him to make him buck.”
As soon as they reached the fence, the horses wandered over. Angie had treats in her pockets, and the horses crowded in for their share.
Duke saw the old horse still had prominent ribs, but none of the animals in her care had defeat in their eyes. He liked that.
“The mares look so much better than when the Humane Society turned in the farmer who ran the operation. The Shetland came from an elderly lady’s farm. She couldn’t feed herself, let alone a pony, a dog and multiple cats.”
“I’m sorry to have troubled you,” Duke said, withdrawing his hand from the old horse’s muzzle. “Color is the only thing this old guy has in common with my aunt’s stallion. I’ll let you get back to your baking. I really wish Midnight had jumped your fence. Dinah is frustrated because the thefts are getting more frequent, and no one sees anything.”
Luke, out of breath from his game of fetch with Zorro, caught up with his mom and Duke as they turned back toward the house. “That was fun,” he announced, this time with no stutter. He handed Duke the tennis ball. As Duke tried to close his swollen left hand around the ball, he caught his breath at the sudden pain, and the ball fell and rolled down the path.
Angie saw and automatically reached for his puffy, discolored hand. She examined his injury in the light spilling from an outside barn light that had switched on. “That looks bad, Dylan. What happened? Have you had it x-rayed?” she asked, lightly stretching out his fingers.
Her whole demeanor spelled caring, which Duke found interesting, and sweet. He’d been around half his family for the better part of the day, and no one noticed the swelling. Or if they did they were so inured to rodeo injuries, they had taken his latest injury in stride.
“It happened Saturday at the Sheridan rodeo on my last ride. Haymaker was the bull’s name. I knew he was a rip snorter prone to burying his head and twisting midair to dislodge his rider. This was my fault. I wrapped the bull rope too tight around my hand. At the buzzer, I leaped off, but Haymaker spun away. He jerked me around pretty good until I was able to release the rope. Really, it’s minor,” he finished saying, because Duke certainly didn’t want Angie to think he was a wimp.
“Y-you ride b-bulls in the rodeo?” Luke got out, his eyes shining and wide. Plainly awed, the boy danced around Duke, asking more about the rodeo.
Duke noticed Angie purse her lips and settle her hand heavily on her son’s shoulder. “Back to the house, young man. Dylan’s leaving.”
“But, do y-you know my d-dad?” the boy blurted. “He’s in r-rodeo. He rides bucking horses.”
Angie stopped dead. “How... Where did you hear that?” she demanded, doing a bit of stammering herself.
Duke took the ball from the boy with his right hand, and motioned Zorro on down the path. It couldn’t be more plain that Angie was shocked by her son’s knowledge.
He heard her mutter, “Never mind,” when Luke said that his gramps had told him. Irritation sparked in Angie’s eyes as she herded her chatty son to the house. Suddenly she stopped, turned and called, “Goodbye, Dylan. I hope you find Sarah’s horse. I’m sure it’s a huge worry.”
He tipped his hat. Unsure whether or not she’d even consider entering Luke in the Wild Pony Race now, Duke nevertheless needed to establish if it was a possibility. “So, I’ll give you a call if I locate any partners like we talked about,” he said, raising his voice so she’d hear. Although she hesitated, Duke saw her nod briefly, and so he said, “You keep an eye out for strangers who may not know you think you have nothing to steal. Log the number for the sheriff’s office on your speed dial,” he shouted as she was closing the screen door. “Your ranch is isolated. The police number in the phone book will reach Dinah or me.”
“I’m good,”
he heard her say. But, happy she hadn’t totally dismissed him over his bull riding, Duke let Zorro into the backseat, slid behind the wheel and drove off. The sun was barely a glimmer, but as he glanced in the rearview mirror he noticed Angie still stood in her doorway, watching him.
“That’s a good sign, don’t you think, boy?” Duke told his dog. Zorro whined and batted his paw on the back of Duke’s headrest.
Feeling the adrenaline drain after his lengthy encounter with a woman he found appealing, Duke admitted he was beat and running on empty. But he couldn’t stop thinking, and liking, how he and Angie lingered along the path to her horse field. He felt less constrained around her. Unlike women who gushed over him at rodeos, Angie didn’t act coy and she didn’t flirt. Neither did she talk down to Luke, or scold him when it was patently obvious she didn’t want him asking about his father. And she let the boy get through a sentence without rushing to finish it for him the way Duke recalled happening to him. That was all the more frustrating and only served to make a stutterer stutter more.
He set his phone on the console and switched on the Bluetooth feature. He hit speed dial and listened to it ring twice before Dinah picked up, saying, “Sheriff’s Office, Sheriff Hart speaking.”
“Dinah, it’s Duke. I’m just leaving the Barrington ranch. The black horse Rob saw there is an old gelding. Anything else come in while I’ve been gone?”
“Not a single lead. It’s exasperating. Are you heading home to bed?”
“I thought I’d swing past the Number 1 Diner for their Monday-night special before I go home and crash. Care to join me for supper?”
“Rain check? I’m tired, too, and I still have to type up a report to send to the mayor.”
“Okay. I’ll come into the office early tomorrow. I want to make up a flyer with Midnight’s photo to tack up around town. I’ll make that the first page on the ranch website. And we should get notices out to auction barns, livestock and brand inspectors. Do you think anyone took any video of Midnight when Colt had him at the rodeo? If so, we can post it on YouTube.”
“You’ll have to ask Colt. I’m happy to let you handle all the techie stuff, Duke. Go eat, we can coordinate our next steps tomorrow. Hey, one last question. Did you think Mom looked okay, or should I worry about the strain this theft may have put on her heart? I don’t know much about angina, but someone said it could lead to other heart problems.”
“She took the theft of Midnight almost as hard as losing Uncle John’s special saddle. It is a blow just when it seemed the ranch might recover from its financial woes. She and Ace have to pay the loan they took out to buy Midnight, even if the horse isn’t there to earn his keep. But Ace or Flynn, or Leah would be better able to speak to your mom’s health. Last time I saw her before today was two weekends ago when I went with her to church. She referred to the bout of angina as a minor incident. Maybe we should take her at her word.”
“I suppose,” Dinah said, sounding a bit off stride herself. “When we do find the jerks who stole Midnight, you’ll have to keep me from wringing their necks.”
Duke laughed. Dinah talked tough, but she had the perfect disposition for her job. She knew Montana law, had grown up in Roundup, but her best trait in Duke’s opinion—she accepted people for who they were and looked for good in everyone.
“Laugh, but I want to nail the thieves working over our friends, family and neighbors so bad I can taste it.”
“Me, too. I think by upping their timetable they’re bound to get sloppy and make a misstep.”
“I hope so. Enjoy your club steak on toast and all the trimmings. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
Duke clicked off as he pulled up in front of the redbrick diner. They all ate there so often they knew the nightly specials by heart. Tonight his timing couldn’t be better. A pickup about the size of his pulled out and left an opening where Duke could keep an eye on his vehicle from inside. “Zorro, be good while I’m in eating and I’ll bring you some steak.” The dog perked his ears, but he lay back down when Duke opened his door and cracked open a window far enough for Zorro to get his snout out for fresh air.
Sierra Byrne, who owned the diner, hadn’t grown up in Roundup, but she’d spent summers in her parents’ cabin on the nearby Musselshell River. And she served comfort food, which made her restaurant a hit with ranchers and rodeo cowboys who went for stick-to-the-ribs meals. Men and women alike enjoyed the mining theme. Duke wasn’t crazy about the tables with sparkly red Formica tops, but in general the place had a homey feel.
Several people greeted him as he entered and that, too, added to the diner’s attraction. Two members of the Roundup rodeo committee hailed him to sit with them. The town’s fair and rodeo loomed large in everyone’s mind as it was only a few weeks away. Preparation didn’t change much from year to year, but every year the committees jockeyed their events enough to claim the current rodeo/fair would be the best one yet. And it did seem to Duke that the fair added more booths, the parade got bigger and motels got booked quicker each year, which was good for the town coffers.
Farley Clark owned a gas station at each end of town. He also stored the movable bleachers at his ranch. Duke supposed Farley wanted to ask him to line up burly cowboys to assemble the bleachers. This evening, Farley and his tablemate, Jeff Woods, wanted to discuss the most recent robbery.
“Heck of a note,” Farley said, “Sarah and Ace losing that pricy stud. Thunder Ranch being hit twice puts me in mind that whoever’s doing this is thumbing their nose at Dinah. What’s she got in mind to do? Are there any leads at all?”
Duke shook his head. He hadn’t expected to get grilled about the burglary, or he probably would have skipped coming here. Not everyone in town had favored the idea of Roundup electing a woman sheriff. Farley had been one of the most vocal, and had supported Dinah’s opponent.
“I’ll take the special, with iced tea,” Duke called to Susie Reynolds, the waitress heading toward him. She gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to deliver his order.
“You figure it’s a local?” Jeff asked, peeling the label off his bottle of sarsaparilla.
“Bound to be,” Duke answered. “Or else someone has spent a lot of time working out escape routes. They strike at night. Nobody hears or sees them make a getaway. Pete Duval’s ranch isn’t easy to find in broad daylight. Practically all of the ranches hit own dogs who haven’t barked in alarm. Dinah and I assume it’s guys who know the back roads and local ranch layouts.”
Farley Clark stirred two packets of sugar in his coffee. “Did you check at the bank if anyone is making deposits over and above what’s normal?”
“Dinah did.” Duke watched the man drink the syrupy black stuff. “Farley, these guys haven’t left any tracks. You know, I sort of sense you aren’t happy with the job Dinah and I are doing. If you want to call a town-hall meeting to let everyone vent, I won’t object and I’m sure Dinah won’t. We keep hoping someone saw or heard something, but haven’t connected it to the break-ins, or didn’t think to report it. Remember, Thunder Ranch has suffered the biggest losses. Surely you don’t believe Dinah and I wouldn’t round up this gang if we could?”
Farley didn’t back off. “I’m just saying it’s gone on longer than any problem the city’s ever had. If Dinah doesn’t catch the culprits before our upcoming fair and rodeo, no one will be comfortable leaving their ranches while they attend scheduled events.”
Duke’s meal came and saved him from losing his temper and snapping a
t Farley. Susie slipped Duke a small plastic bag. “For Zorro,” she said. “I know you always take him some of your steak.”
“Hey, thanks. I didn’t realize I was so predictable.”
“It’s okay. I really wanted to come ask if any of your family has heard from Tuf? My older brother is finally back in the States. He’s at Kāne‘ohe Bay in Hawaii, but he served with Tuf in Afghanistan and asked about him when we spoke. I said I haven’t seen him around town.”
Duke stopped cutting his steak. “Aunt Sarah has been in contact with him. That’s about all I know. But when I’m not at the sheriff’s office or out doing that job, I’m off at rodeos.” Duke gave a casual shrug. Really he knew everyone in the family worried about his youngest cousin. But they were tight-knit, and not prone to blabber personal stuff that could lead to gossip.
Jeff ordered another soft drink. Luckily Farley took out his money clip, peeled off a tip and dropped it beside his plate. Susie went to help a new customer as Farley said, “I don’t think we’ve reached the stage of calling for a town-hall meeting, Duke, but I wonder if Dinah shouldn’t deputize a couple of guys at least through our fair and rodeo. It so happens my son, Rory, is home from college for the summer, along with his good friend, Tracy Babcock. They could be of help. My wife wants Rory to be a lawyer even though he thinks he’d rather be a rancher. A summer internship as a deputy would look good on his résumé if he chooses law.”
Now Farley’s entire complaint came into focus for Duke and made more sense. “I’ll pass that information along to Dinah when I see her in the morning,” Duke said. He could almost predict her reaction. Farley’s wife had spoiled their only son, Rory, with ready cash, hot cars and expensive clothes only dudes would be caught wearing, and his good buddy, Tracy Babcock, was cut from the same cloth. To keep from further comment, Duke cut a slice of steak and put it in his mouth. He gestured goodbye with his fork as Farley ambled off.
Harts Of The Rodeo 3 - Duke - Deputy Cowboy Page 3
