Wrangler (Star Valley Book 2)

by Dahlia West

  “What was that?!” he asked the man. “That was a pretty sad excuse for a punch, Palmer. Who do you think you’re going to put down with that shit? I think that’s your problem. You’re too used to hitting women.”

  Palmer pushed off the hood and took another swing, but this time Sawyer slammed him back down.

  “You’re going to tell me,” Sawyer snapped, pressing the side of Palmer’s face into the steel.

  “Tell you what?!” Palmer bellowed.

  “Everything!”

  Palmer tried to twist out of Sawyer’s grip, but Sawyer tightened his hold.

  “I’ll break your fucking arm,” he hissed. “You want that? Huh? Like you did to her? I’ll snap it like a fucking twig.”

  “Somebody do something!” Palmer shouted.

  “No one’s going to help you,” Sawyer replied. “No one at all. They’d have to get past my brother, and no one in this town is dumb enough to try.”

  Indeed, Walker stood just a few feet away, large arms folded in front of his massive chest. Assuming Palmer actually had any friends, all of them put together couldn’t handle Walker Barlow.

  “What do you want?” Palmer rasped. “What do you want to know?”

  It was a fair question, Sawyer supposed, and he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said everything. Where to start, though? Who was Cassidy? What was real? At this point Sawyer suspected it was all real, but he wanted to hear it from Palmer. More to the point, he wanted Star Valley to hear it from Palmer.

  “Did you break her arm when you were kids?” he pressed.

  Palmer grunted and tried to wriggle away, like a worm on a hook. “Fuck you!” he spat.

  “Did you break Cassidy’s arm?” Sawyer repeated.

  He tugged up on Palmer’s own arm, causing the man to yelp.

  “All right!” Palmer cried. “Yeah. So fucking what? I broke her arm. We were just kids, like you said. Didn’t mean anything.”

  Sawyer resisted the urge to crack the man’s bones right then and there. It was tempting, so tempting, and he actually felt his fingers twitch, involuntarily, around Palmer’s wrist. “Did Cassidy get into college?”

  “What?” asked Palmer, sounding bewildered. “What the fuck’s that got to do with—”

  “Did Cassidy get into college?”

  “I…yeah, so?”

  “So your dad wouldn’t let her go.”

  Palmer couldn’t move his arm, so he turned his head and glared up at Sawyer, then to the people gathered round, people who wouldn’t lift a finger to help him. He snorted loudly. “Why bother?” he sneered. “Dad can’t sell what’s between her ears.”

  Someone in the crowd gasped, but Sawyer ignored them.

  “You sent her out instead, to Greg Lyle, to Wayne Horvath, to try and get them to sell their spreads to your father,” Sawyer declared. He could’ve mentioned all the others, but he refrained, out of respect for Cassidy’s reputation here in town. The onlookers got the gist, though, he assumed.

  Palmer laughed. “My sister, the who—”

  “What choice did she have?!” Sawyer shouted. “What were you going to do if she said no? Break her other arm?”

  “I—”

  Sawyer slammed Palmer’s face down into the hood again with his free hand, not hard enough to crush his skull, but it was tempting. “You hit her that night, didn’t you? All by yourself, all on your own. She wasn’t in on anything, was she? What did you do, Palmer? Did you sucker punch your little sister, like you tried to do to me? Did you punch your little sister in the face because she wanted me? She wanted to scrap your plans to own this county lock, stock, and barrel, and she chose me for herself instead, but you couldn’t let her do that, could you?”

  “You’re nobody!” Palmer screeched. “You’re a fucking nobody! We couldn’t let her end up with you. You’re completely fucking useless!”

  Completely useless. He’d heard those words before, from Cassidy’s quivering lips, talking about herself. He balled his hand into a fist but didn’t strike out. Instead, he leaned in close, with his whole body, and told Palmer, “You stay away from Cassidy. You don’t go near her again. Not ever again.”

  Palmer shook his head wildly. “You can’t do that!” he replied. “You can’t tell us to—”

  “I can,” Sawyer said sharply. “I can do that. And I am doing that. You’re never going near her again. You, your dad, all that shit, it’s in the past. You understand? It’s all in the past. You see, I am somebody, Palmer. I’m Cassidy’s future.”

  The parking lot flooded with flashing red-and-blue lights, and Sawyer reluctantly—very reluctantly—let go of the man and backed away.

  A deputy stepped out of the cruiser, and the crowd dispersed. Palmer tried to get up and scurry away, but Sawyer caught his knee with a sweep of the leg and sent him sprawling into the gravel.

  “You son of a bitch!” Palmer shouted.

  Sawyer remained where he was. He certainly wasn’t going to run like a scared rabbit. He made a small motion for Walker to back up, to melt into the crowd. Sawyer could see that Walker was reluctant to abandon him, but Sawyer nodded sharply. Ten minutes later, Sawyer and Palmer were sitting side by side in the back of the patrol car. Luckily for Palmer, Sawyer was wearing a shiny pair of steel bracelets and couldn’t smack the shit out of him. Palmer, for his part, was cuffed as well, despite his protestations that he was the victim, and a Conroy. The deputy said nothing as they rolled out of the lot.

  The drive to the sheriff’s office was short. Frankly, Star Valley was so small that they could’ve walked and been there faster. Sawyer and Palmer were given different cells in the tiny, old, decrepit building that might actually have housed Wild West train robbers, it was so old. Sawyer had never been inside before and wasn’t too happy about it now, but it had been worth it, he thought, as he looked at Palmer’s black eye and busted lower lip.

  They sat in silence, glaring at each other until the door to the hallway opened and the actual sheriff stepped in. Tucker Langley was probably getting too old for the job, by anyone’s measure. The man had shock-white hair and more wrinkles than a basset hound. But Sawyer had voted for him, more than once, as had the rest of the Barlows. Langley was a good man and a good sheriff, and it was likely that he’d retain the office of Star Valley’s top peacekeeper until he died sitting in his desk chair.

  Langley grunted. “Well, now,” he drawled. “Had to see it for my own eyes. A Conroy and a Barlow both sitting my jail. What is the world coming to? And a bar fight, no less.”

  “He hit me!” Palmer whined. “I had nothing to do with it!”

  Sawyer rolled his eyes. “You swung at me first. I just ducked. He hit his sister, too” Sawyer told the sheriff.

  Langley turned and eyed him closely.

  “He hit her in the face. Cassidy. And it’s not the first time, either.”

  Langley’s gaze flicked to Palmer then back to Sawyer. “You saw him hit her?”

  Sawyer frowned. “No. But she told me about it. And I saw the bruises. I took her to the hospital.”

  The old man’s eyebrows raised. “Hospital?”

  “Yeah. A few weeks ago. I was worried she had a concussion.”

  Langley thumbed his belt loops thoughtfully. “Well, now, a few weeks ago isn’t this week. And you didn’t see it happen.”

  Anger flared up in Sawyer’s chest. “What does it matter when it happened? He hit her.”

  The sheriff nodded. “I hear you. I hear you.” Then he sighed. “Well, I’d like to think you’re cooled off enough for me to let you go. It’s early yet, and by morning these cages’ll be filled up with a drunk or five. It’s going to get mighty crowded back here.” He narrowed his eyes at Sawyer. “Can you keep your hands to yourself for a while?”

  Sawyer pressed his lips together tightly but didn’t answer. Not if the sheriff was going to let Palmer out, too.

  Palmer did get up off the steel bench of his own cell and sauntered toward the door. He smacked the bar
s with his hand. “So let me out!” he snapped. “Shouldn’t have put me back here any damn way. I’m the victim here!”

  To Sawyer’s surprise, Langley snorted. “You’re not going anywhere, young man. Not tonight. Not for a while.” The corners of his mouth turned down slightly. “Not until your daddy calls up Orville Walsh and he puts on his tap dancing shoes. Damn lawyers,” he muttered under his breath.

  Palmer gaped at the old man. “You can’t do that! You can’t just take his word!” he cried. “He made me say those things. He twisted my arm. He nearly broke it.”

  “I’m not taking his word for anything,” Langley assured him and closed the steel-barred gate of Sawyer’s cell firmly.

  “Hey!” Palmer shouted as Sawyer obeyed Langley’s gesture to move toward the exit door. “HEY!”

  Langley followed Sawyer out and closed the door behind them, cutting of Palmer’s protests.

  “He hit Cassidy,” Sawyer insisted.

  “I heard you,” sighed the old man as they moved down the hallway.

  “So you’re going to do something, right? Something more than just throwing him in the drunk tank for a night?” The sheriff didn’t answer, and Sawyer’s jaw clenched. “You can’t let him get away with that!”

  They stopped at the end of the hallway, and Langley reached for the door.

  Reluctantly, Sawyer stepped through it, unwilling to let the subject just drop. Palmer couldn’t get away with tormenting his sister, for years. Sawyer wouldn’t stand for it.

  In the large lobby area, Walker rose from a chair butted against the wall.

  “Take him home,” Langley ordered. “And don’t stop off at The Spur. Or I really will throw you in with the drunks and keep you back there all night.”

  The street exit was just steps away, but instead of leaving, Sawyer whirled on the old man. “Now, listen! It’s your job—”

  Just then, a door on the other side of the room opened, and one of the deputies—Craig Lars—stepped out of Langley’s office.

  Followed by Dakota.

  And Cassidy.

  For a moment, Sawyer’s heart stopped beating. His breath caught in his throat.

  Both women looked surprised to see the crowded lobby.

  Before anyone could speak, Walker stormed across the room, and Sawyer watched Dakota gasp, quickly backing up until her hips rattled Mrs. Burns’s reception desk.

  “Hey now!” cried Lars but made no move to stop him.

  Walker outweighed the deputy by at least thirty pounds of well-formed muscle, and Lars apparently knew better than to get in the man’s way.

  Seemingly undeterred by everyone’s apprehension, Walker caught both of Dakota’s arms in his large hands and trapped her against the desk, nearly pressing his entire body against hers. “Are you hurt?” he demanded, checking her over thoroughly.

  “No,” Dakota replied breathlessly.

  Normally the woman ran roughshod over all the Barlow men, including Walker, despite her slight frame. Now she seemed like a nervous rabbit, caught in a trap.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  Dakota’s eyes skipped from Walker to Cassidy beside her. Sawyer couldn’t help but follow the younger woman’s gaze. He, too, was worried for Cassidy, but so much had passed between them, so much had gone wrong that he could only stand frozen, several feet away from her.

  “Dakota,” Walker growled.

  It was the only word of warning the man gave her.

  “I’m here for Cassidy,” she half-whispered. “We’re here for her.”

  “Oh, my!” Mrs. Burns gasped. She picked up a sheaf of papers off her desk and fanned herself with them.

  “Mrs. Burns,” Sheriff Langley drawled. “You ’bout finished typing up that affidavit so’s I can wake up the judge?”

  “I am,” said the woman. “It’s all ready.”

  “Well, Cassidy,” said Langley, tipping his hat to her. “Guess I don’t have to traipse all over the county looking for Palmer to arrest him. He seems to have landed himself right here in my jail of his own accord.” He smiled widely. “Technically, I oughta let him go, too, along with Sawyer, at least until Judge McGarrety signs the warrant, just to be fair. But you know, chasing men down is a young man’s game, and I don’t spit in the eye of Lady Luck when she comes calling.”

  He took off his hat in a slow, respectful gesture and held out a wrinkled hand to Cassidy.

  Sawyer watched her shake it.

  “I’m sorry for your family trouble, Cassidy.”

  Cassidy smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry if you get an earful, Sheriff.”

  “Oh, now. I can handle your daddy. Got a witness, after all.” He glanced at Sawyer. “Would’ve liked to have had two, but Dakota’s a fine, upstanding young woman and well liked.” He shot Walker a look. “By apparently everyone.” The sheriff smiled at Cassidy. “Go on now,” he told her. “I’ve got your statements. I’ll take care of it from here.”

  Cassidy nodded, thanked him warmly, and ducked her head as she tried to pass Sawyer quickly on her way out the front doors.

  “Cassidy,” he said, snaking his hand out to catch her.

  She moved out of reach, giving him a cold look. “Don’t touch me.”

  “Cassidy!”

  “Leave me alone, Sawyer. Just leave me alone.”

  She darted for the exit, and he started after her, but Langley stepped in front of him. “I believe the young lady’s said her piece.”

  Sawyer ignored the man and tried to move around him. This time a firm arm came up, and a hand with strength that belied its owner’s age clamped down on his shoulder.

  “Son,” Langley said firmly. “I’m telling you to let her go. Unless you want to go right back into that cell for the night. And come out in the morning with a restraining order. We’re already filling out the paperwork for Palmer. It’d be no trouble to write one up for you, too, and get McGarrety to sign it. Hell, he’ll be so angry that we woke him up, he’ll probably put everyone in Star Valley in jail, just so’s he can go back to bed.”

  Sawyer watched the door whisper closed as Cassidy disappeared into the night, alone. Every instinct told him to go after her, but he didn’t fancy winding up in handcuffs for the second time tonight. He clenched his jaw tightly and stood his ground, straining just to catch a glimpse of her in the darkness. He’d let her go.

  For now.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  ‡

  CASSIDY MANAGED TO hold her head high until she walked through the doors of the sheriff’s office and out onto the curb. She kept walking, practically running, across the street and down the sidewalk in a mad dash to get back to The Dusty Rose. The last place she expected to see Sawyer Barlow was at the damn sheriff’s office. Unbelievable! She hadn’t heard a word from him, not a peep in almost two weeks, and he strode into the building like he owned the damn place. She would’ve blamed Dakota for setting it up somehow, except the girl had looked positively shocked to see Walker there. It was just a bad coincidence, apparently.

  She couldn’t believe it. All the nights she spent crying into her dirty pillow in a fucking motel room, and he looked as though he was doing just fine. She shouldn’t have been surprised by it. Court Barlow had cheated on Rowan. She’d meant no more to that man than a few good turns in the sheets. Cassidy, it seemed, had meant about as much to Sawyer. No calls, not a single visit, not even just to check on her. He was mad because he’d been played for a fool. That was all.

  She made it to The Rose as though the Devil himself was chasing her, though there was no one behind her. No one at all. She slammed the door shut and pulled the chain for good measure. Keeping the world out was just as good—better than—letting anyone in. People only brought pain. That’s what she’d learned in life. Her father, her mother, her brother.

  She tossed her purse onto the wobbly table and sat down on the corner of the bed to kick off her shoes. The minute she landed, though, there was a hard rap on the closed door. She jumped, sta
rtled, then glared at it. There was no doubt in her mind who was on the other side, but she wasn’t interested.

  “Go away!” she called and reached for her boot.

  “Open the door,” came Sawyer’s voice.

  “Leave,” she demanded. “It’s late, and I have to work in the morning.”

  “Cassidy.”

  She jolted. That was Walker’s voice.

  “If you don’t open the door,” he told her, “I’m afraid he’s going to kick it down.”

  Jesus, she thought. So much for any hope of reconciliation, not that she was hoping for it. But he’d brought his damn brother. Oh well. Whatever. Walker knew everything anyway. Furious now, she got up and stomped to the door, flinging it open to come face to face with the man she’d once offered a blowjob on the bathroom floor of the The Silver Spur.

  “What do you want?” Cassidy glared at Walker, ignoring Sawyer’s presence altogether. Even looking at him might cause her to break down, and she just couldn’t have that, just couldn’t let them see her cry.

  Unsurprisingly, Walker didn’t seem the least bit rattled by her anger. “Can we come in?”

  “No.”

  He sighed heavily. “Cassidy, let us in. We want to—”

  “You here for a threesome?” She snorted. “Forget it. I was never that into you, Walker. I was only after your land, remember? The blowjob, or anything else, is officially off the table. Good night.” She attempted to shut the door in his face, but his large boot shot out and blocked it.

  “Cassidy,” Walker said in his deep baritone voice. “The only difference between you and me is that my father cared about me.”

  She froze and stared at him.

  “I would have done anything for him,” Walker declared. “Anything at all. Because he was my dad. And because I loved him and I wanted him to be proud of me. Thankfully, he was a good man, and he never once asked me to do anything that was wrong. Or anything that would hurt me.”

  Cassidy inhaled sharply. Her ego stung at the implication that she wasn’t worth protecting, not even by her own family. “Well, I’m happy for you,” she snapped.