Justice Healed
Cowboy Justice Association
Book Two
By Olivia Jaymes
www.OliviaJaymes.com
JUSTICE HEALED
Copyright © 2013 by Olivia Jaymes
E-Book ISBN: 978-0-9899833-2-7
Print ISBN: 978-0-9899833-3-4
Cover art by Sloan Winters
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Dedication
To my wonderful husband and son. Thank you for all your love and support. I wouldn't be able to do this without you.
Chapter One
The smell of stale beer and sweat roiled Sheriff Tanner Marks's stomach bringing his hastily eaten cheeseburger up into his throat. He hated being in a bar on a Saturday night. Any bar. They held too many memories and none of them very good. Some of them downright lousy.
Funny how all bars looked and sounded the same. The soles of his shoes stuck to the sticky floor. The jukebox blared from the corner and the stench of alcohol, Old Spice, and pheromones were overpowering. Some couples were dancing on one side of the room while drunk, loud cowboys whooped it up in front of the wide-screen television on the other. A few Romeos were trying to hit on the better looking women.
A typical night in a small town watering hole.
"I hate this shit," Tanner said to his best deputy. Deputy Sam Taylor was a tough son of a bitch with a calm, cool demeanor. Tanner would trust him anywhere.
Sam chuckled and adjusted his cowboy hat. "Just a regular Saturday night in Springwood, Montana, boss."
"In the pool room, Tanner." Patty, the owner of this fine establishment, strode up to him and pointed to the back of the bar. "Get them out of here. They're going to bust up my place."
He strode straight for the back room, which boasted not one but two pool tables, and saw his son, Chris, exchanging fists with another cowboy from a nearby ranch.
"Shit. Not again." He headed straight for the fray but looked over his shoulder at his deputy. "Call for another deputy. Larry's just down the road, I think. We'll be taking them in."
Tanner was tired of making excuses for his son. If Chris was going to act like an idiot, he could spend the rest of Saturday night behind bars. Sam pulled out his cell while Tanner plunged himself into the fray, pushing them both back and ducking the wildly swinging blows. The two men appeared to have had too much to drink, and they would both spend the night in Tanner's drunk tank sleeping it off. Tanner was going to have to call Stacey about Chris. Again.
Tanner managed to separate the two, Sam holding the other cowboy, kicking and yelling, by the arms. Chris was seething with anger at being thwarted.
"Fuck you, Dad. Let me go." He lunged forward and unexpectedly knocked Tanner backwards.
He was steadying himself on his feet when a fist landed squarely on his jaw, spinning him around and sending him into a pile of metal chairs stacked against the wall.
He shook it off and grabbed Chris by the collar, holding him still. For once, his son seemed to get the message and didn't fight back. He stood there, a hateful expression on his face before turning his attention to the floor. Larry jogged into the bar with a grin and efficiently cuffed the troublemakers. Tanner rubbed his sore jaw and got to his feet. Sam slapped Tanner on the back.
"You okay, boss? You got quite a cut on your head."
Tanner reached up and winced as his fingers hit a spot above his right eye. He brought his hand down and his fingers were covered in blood.
"Shit. I'm getting too old for this, Sam." He was going to be black and blue tomorrow morning from the fall into the chairs.
"You probably need a couple of stitches, boss. I'll drive you to the doctor."
"I'm fine." Tanner waved it off, but Sam grasped his arm.
"You’re bleeding pretty bad. Go look in the mirror."
"In a minute."
Chris was breathing heavy and pulling against the cuffs, which was only going to hurt him more. But this was Tanner's son in a nutshell. He had a beautiful wife and baby at home and yet here he was drinking and fighting. Tanner scanned his son for any serious injuries but he appeared to have escaped any real harm. He'd have a fat lip and some bruised knuckles, but little else.
"Do you want me to call Stacey, son?" Tanner tried to keep his voice even and calm, despite the crushing disappointment and guilt twisting in his gut.
"You can't do anything for me, old man." Chris practically spat out the words, turning away.
"I can keep you from doing time for assaulting a cop. You need to start making better choices, Chris. You should be home with your wife and daughter."
"Like you were? How many Saturday nights did you get drunk, Dad? How many?" Tanner heard the hurt in his son's voice and would have done anything in the world to turn back the clock. But Tanner knew that wasn't an option.
"I don't know. I lost count. I do know I didn't get in fights and end up in jail. I didn't lose job after job so I couldn't take care of my family. I took care of you, son."
Chris shook his head, his mouth a flat line. "Paying the bills doesn't make you a father."
"Drinking yourself blind and punching another guy doesn't make you one either," Tanner countered. "Don't fuck this up like I did, Chris. You'll end up alone."
Chris turned away and let the deputy lead him out of the bar. Sam put his hand on Tanner's shoulder. "It's not your fault, you know."
Tanner exhaled slowly. "Actually, it is. It's what he saw growing up."
Sam shook his head. "He also saw you straighten up and get sober. A grown man makes his own decisions. Only Chris will decide when he's had enough. And you know when that will be."
Tanner did know. He was just trying to save Chris the same heartache. He would change when he hit absolute rock bottom. It was then a person had no choice but to change.
"You need to put something on that cut. There's the men's room."
Sam was right. Blood was dripping in Tanner's eye making it hard to see. A quick trip to the foul smelling men's room told him the ugly truth. He had a deep gash above his eye and he was going to have a lulu of a headache tomorrow. He tried to wipe off his face with a few paper towels, but only managed to smear the blood, making him look like something from a horror movie. He exited the bathroom with a wad of towels on his forehead and found Sam waiting for him.
"Okay, I need a couple of stitches."
Sam held up his hands. "I'll drive you to Doc Shay's. Larry will take the men to the station and let them sleep it off. I assume you're not pressing charges against your son for assaulting an officer of the law?"
Tanner shook his head and felt the beginnings of a small hammer pounding against his skull. He walked slowly out of the bar assuring concerned citizens as he passed that he was fine. He headed to the SUV but Sam grabbed the door handle, coming out of nowhere.
"I'm driving you. You're still shaky on your feet."
Tanner tossed Sam the keys with a scowl. "You're acting like my mother, but I'm in no fucking mood to argue. I’m not too old to take a punch, for fuck's sake."
Tanner slid in the passenger side while Sam started up the SUV. "You can still take a punch, boss, but those chairs you landed on weren't feathers and cotton balls. No one could walk away from something like that without getting their bell rung."
Tanner exhaled, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the headrest. Doc Shay would patch up his forehead and then Tanner could take a couple of aspirin and
sleep. If that bar fight call had come in ten minutes later, Tanner would have been off duty. It was the karma gods fucking with him again. They'd made sure he saw how Chris was ruining his life.
The town wasn't that big so it didn't take long to get to their destination. Within minutes Tanner felt the SUV come to a stop. Tanner opened his eyes and winced. They were sitting in front of the suburban home and office of Dr. Gregory Shay. Tanner liked the man, but he hated doctors in general. They always seemed to find a reason to shove a needle in his ass. He'd served his country in the hot, dry Middle East, but he hated needles more.
He swung out of the seat. "Let's get this fucking over with."
* * * *
"
Now there's your husband." Dr. Madison Shay laughed and pointed to the television screen where Brad Pitt and George Clooney were looking hot and sexy in Ocean's Eleven. She and her friend Sherry Martin had been playing the "There's Your Husband" game since they were teens. Sometimes the males were sexy and handsome, sometimes not so much, but it never failed to make them smile and laugh.
At thirty years old, Madison should have been too old for the game but Sherry had been egging her on all night, first at the restaurant and now while watching the movie. So far, Madison's husbands included George Clooney and Carl Reiner.
"I'll take Matt Damon any day," Sherry declared. "He's very hot."
"You have Dan. He's handsome and sweet. He's a great guy." Madison popped open another can of Pepsi.
Sherry rolled her eyes. "At the rate we're going, I'll be the oldest living bride in America. I'm a wedding planner and I can't get my own man to propose. How messed up is that?"
"He'll propose. Didn't you say he was just trying to get his business up and running?" Dan owned a local real estate business.
"Before that he wanted to finish graduate school. What's the next excuse? He wants to pay for the wedding with our social security checks?"
"Trust me, you'll be married before I will. Guaranteed." Madison hadn't had a date in three years. By choice. She was hopeless when it came to men. She never knew what to say, do, or wear.
Sherry tapped her chin in thought. "About that. We need to find you a man."
Madison sighed. "We've been through this before. I don't understand men, and they don't understand me. It's like we're from different planets."
"You just need me to coach you." Sherry jumped up from the couch and started to pace excitedly. "I can tell you what to talk about, and help you pick out clothes." She looked down at Madison's faded and ripped blue jeans and SpongeBob T-shirt. "New clothes. We can go shopping. Buy you some dresses and high heels. You have great legs."
"I'd look like Big Bird if I wore high heels." At five foot-seven, Madison wasn't overly tall, but she was also slim which gave the illusion of more height.
"More like a supermodel," Sherry retorted. "You're not thirteen anymore. The glasses and braces are gone. You grew boobs. Use 'em."
"I am perfectly aware of the function of breasts. I went to medical school."
Sherry giggled. "I don't think we're thinking of the same function. Boobs are to make men drool."
Madison stretched out the neckline of her shirt and looked down at her chest. "Drool? Are you kidding?"
Sherry nodded. "Drool. You need to show some cleavage, girl."
"Low cut scrubs. A novel idea. How about some popcorn?" Madison headed into the kitchen with Sherry right behind her. Madison popped the popcorn bag into the microwave and pressed a few buttons. "Listen, I appreciate you wanting to help me. But I'm fine. I like being on my own and not having a man to worry about."
"I'm going to help you," Sherry announced. "Give me a month and you'll be in love."
Real fear entered Madison's heart. "Please, I beg of you. Don't."
The popping stopped and Sherry reached around Madison and pressed the cancel button, then pulled the steaming bag from the microwave. "You'll thank me later. You need a nice man." Sherry dumped the popcorn into a large bowl. "Let's see... there's Elmer Marsh who works construction. He has a good body."
Madison tossed a few kernels into her mouth. "Elmer? We went to high school with him. He barely graduated. He used to call me four-eyed Maddie."
"You want brains then? How about Teddy Perkins? He's an attorney." Sherry appeared to be warming up to this idea. Madison needed to put it in the deep freeze immediately.
"Teddy Perkins used to steal my lunch money and called me carrot top. Not in a nice way. He made my life a living hell until the day I left town. Now you want to fix me up with him."
Sherry sighed. "Were there any boys who weren't mean to you? There had to be someone."
Madison thought for a moment. "Jerry Jarvis. He wasn't mean to me. Actually, he never spoke to me once in twelve years of school."
Sherry slapped her forehead. "Jerry Jarvis always had one hand down his pants and the other knuckle deep in his nose."
Madison sprinkled some salt on the popcorn. "Whatever happened to him anyway?"
"He's the mayor. Can we get back to you?"
The loud peal of the bell for the back door interrupted Madison's plea to be left alone. If someone was ringing that bell, they wanted a doctor.
"Hold that thought. We have company."
Madison and Sherry hurried to the back of the house, which was through the kitchen, down a hall, and behind a set of thick double doors. The office was actually an addition built onto the existing house. Her mother had been a stickler for separating her father's work life from their home life. Friends entered through the front and patients entered through the back. The only problem was, in a small town, friends and patients were usually one in the same.
Madison pulled the back door open and found two large men in uniforms. She recognized Tanner Marks immediately. She'd had a case of hero worship for him years ago after he'd shooed away some bullies. He'd aged in the last twelve years. There was a touch of grey at his temples and a few more lines around his eyes, but his square jaw was just as strong and his shoulders just as wide. The other man was around the same age and just as tall, with dark hair and eyes. Between the two of them, they took up the entire doorway.
She stepped back into the waiting room so the men could enter. She eyed the blood soaked paper towel Tanner held above his right eye. "Come on in."
"Um, is Doc Gray here?" the stranger asked.
"Dad is in Seattle visiting his sister. Is this a medical emergency?"
A pause.
"Yes. The sheriff needs a few stitches over his eye."
"I'm a doctor. I can do it. " Another pause. "I assure you I am a board certified physician. You can bring him in here." She gestured toward the examination room.
Some Montana men could be real chauvinists. For a moment she thought they might turn around, but instead they entered the office and shed their heavy coats. It was colder than hell for the beginning of February, but it was toasty inside the house.
"Will you follow me?" Madison led them back into the examining room. She walked over to the sink and started to wash her hands.
"Hey, Sheriff. Deputy Sam. Can I get you some coffee or something?" Sherry offered.
Both men shook their heads. "None for me thanks," Tanner replied. "But I appreciate the offer."
Sherry grinned and gave Madison a sideways glance. "So polite. Being a gentleman seems to be a lost art these days. I'll wait in the other room if you don't mind."
If Tanner thought the gentleman remark was strange he didn't say anything. Instead, he pulled off his cowboy hat and tossed it into a chair. With the paper towels no longer covering his forehead she could see a deep gash over his eyebrow about three centimeters long. She dried her hands and waved toward a chair. She snapped on a pair of rubber gloves as he sat down. She gingerly probed the wound looking for any foreign material that would need to be removed before stitching it up. He sucked in a breath when she hit a particularly sensitive spot.
"Sorry. Can I ask how you did this?"
His jaw was
starting to bruise so she had a pretty decent idea of what had happened but she wanted to be sure. If he needed to go to the next town over for an MRI, she wanted to get him there as soon as possible.
"I was breaking up a fight and caught a fist. Fell into a stack of metal chairs." His expression was sheepish. She pulled open a drawer and retrieved a flashlight, looking into his pupils, testing for a reaction. So far, so good.
She held a finger up in front of him. "Follow my finger with only your eyes." Luckily, he passed with flying colors.
"Can you tell me your full name?" she asked.
Tanner frowned. "Tanner Eugene Marks."
She heard the other cop snicker and Tanner shot him a dirty look.
"Good. What day is it?"
Tanner rolled his eyes. "Saturday. Do we really need to do this? I don't have a concussion, Doctor. I've had them before and I don't have one now. I just need a few stitches."
She'd dealt with every kind of patient in the world while working in the emergency room of a big city hospital. She smiled sweetly. "Where did you get your medical degree, Sheriff? I got mine at the University of Kansas."
A muscle worked in his jaw but he sighed and sat back in the chair. "I don't have one," he conceded.
"Then we'll move on. Any nausea or vomiting? Spotty vision? Headache?"
"No. No. Yes. Just a small one. Right above my eye."
She finished the examination as efficiently as possible then pulled out the supplies for his stitches.
"I'm going to numb the area so I can clean it and apply the sutures. Do you have any allergies to medication?"
Tanner shook his head. "No, ma'am."
She smiled at that. "You don't have to call me ma'am, or even doctor. My name is Madison."
He frowned as if he was thinking really hard. "Doc Shay has a daughter named Madison."
"Guilty as charged, Sheriff. I've been gone a long time, I guess."
His eyes widened in recognition and she winced inwardly. He was remembering her as the tall, gawky, geeky girl she'd been, complete with braces and glasses. She'd grown into her height so to speak and Lasik did wonders these days. Unfortunately, the geeky part was permanent. She couldn't get rid of it if she tried, and after all these years she stopped and embraced it. Her life was much easier without trying to be something she wasn't.
Justice Healed Page 1
