by Kym Roberts
When I arrived at The Cowboy Ranch thirty minutes later, the parking lot and the adjoining field were packed full of cars. The last glow of the sunset was abandoning the horizon and media trucks with tall satellite masts polluted the view from their perch on the street. Lack of space forced me to park right behind Liza Twaine’s media van, and of course, it was Aubrey who pointed my daddy’s truck out to her mentor.
“Ms. Warren, can you tell us if Scarlet Jenkins will be at the vigil?” Liza asked.
“I have no idea,” I answered and stepped around Aubrey, who was trying to focus her camera lens on my face.
“Could we get an interview with you?” Liza persisted, jogging up the gravel drive after me in her trademark purple stilettos, which appeared to be made out of alligator. Her flouncy skirt lifted in the wind and she shoved it down. She should have watched the weather report. The wind gusts were going to make her the next generation’s Marilyn Monroe.
“No. I’m here for the service. Not for an interview.”
“What about tomorrow?”
I ignored her and gave her sidekick, Aubrey, a scowl before I escaped into the crowd. Catching a glimpse of Joe and Leila Buck on the other side of a mini stage, I made my way through tons of people I’d never seen before, to stand next to the owners of The Tool Shed Tavern. Leila hugged me and Joe engulfed us both in a bear hug that was over the top, but very comforting.
“How are you doing, Princess?” Joe asked. The man was never going to call me Charli.
“I’m okay, but I’m worried about Scarlet.” I pulled back and looked at my friends.
“We’re worried about you. Did you get a look at the man who tried to burn you?” Leila fingered my new hairdo as she searched my face for any signs of fear. If she kept that up, my emotions might get the better of me.
I shook my head. “No, it was too dark.”
“Funny thing, that,” Joe said.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Leila shook her head. “Don’t start that again, Joe. What happened to Charli has nothing in common with Sugar’s accident.”
“What accident?”
Leila glanced over her shoulder, her exasperation with her husband evident. “Last year during the rodeo we had a big thunderstorm blow through. We had power outage at the bar during a really busy night—”
“It wasn’t that busy,” Joe argued.
“Anyway,” Leila continued. “The crowd got a little spooked and Sugar got burned on the back of her neck by someone’s cigarette.”
“That’s what that scar is from?” I’d noticed the puckered scar at the base of her neck for the first time while she was working in The Barn just the other day.
Joe nodded with a deep, “Um-hmmm,” that conveyed what he thought about the injury being accidental.
Leila elbowed him. “We banned smoking from that point on. It wasn’t a big deal, since none of the locals smoked in The Shed, anyway. It just became an inconvenience for the out of town visitors. How’s Scarlet taking all of this?”
“Not well, I’m afraid. I’ve never seen her like this. I had no idea she cared about him that much,” I confessed.
Leila’s eyes moistened as she handed me an extra candle she’d been holding. “She’s not coming, is she? The reporters have been asking all kinds of questions about her relationship with Wyatt and Dalton.”
“No. My dad and Mateo convinced her to stay away.”
“That’s a shame. I know she wanted to be here. She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
As the only other black woman living in town, I felt comfortable around Leila in a way I didn’t with my other friends. Not that Leila and I were best friends; our bond was like an American meeting another American in a foreign country. A sense of belonging when you were a little out of your element, even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with that environment in the first place. Commonality brought us closer.
I wiped the corner of my eyes before they began to fill. “No, first Dalton, then the graves. And now this. At least Mateo doesn’t think she’s a suspect,” I told her.
“Is there something we can do?”
“The media keeps looking for Scarlet…if you could point the them in any direction but hers, that would be great.”
Joe smiled that big grin. It was scary how easily it suckered people in; he should have it registered as a weapon. “I’m pretty good at leading people astray….”
Leila elbowed him in the gut. Her short stature concealed her strength. Joe grabbed his stomach and doubled over in feigned injury. Some people gawked and wondered how to react to his antics; his close friends knew it was an act. Even Cade, who was up on the stage preparing to start the vigil, recognized the part Joe was playing. If it hadn’t been a solemn occasion, Cade would have been calling Joe out for the stunt he was pulling. Instead, he shook his head.
“I should have warned you about him before I left town,” I told Leila.
“You were too busy trying to get out of the trouble he led you into.”
“Hey, you can lead a horse to water—” Joe started.
“But you can’t make it drink.” Leila and I finished and turned away as Cade took the stage with Taylor on his arm. The promoter was few years older than Cade, but the way her body was plastered to his side suggested she didn’t mind their age difference in the least. I couldn’t help the frown forming on my face as Cade started introducing the riders who wanted to say something on behalf of the Hibbs brothers.
Joe leaned over, his oversized hand resting on my head and ruffling my curls. “Girl, you are too cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m not jealous,” I hissed. At least I didn’t want to be.
Leila elbowed him again. “Stop snapping her garters, Joe. You know he’s her weak spot.”
“What? The only garters I snap are the ones you wear, darling.” Joe pulled his wife up to him as he nuzzled her neck.
Joe’s teasing didn’t bother me. What bothered me was that Leila thought Cade was my weakness. Fuzz buckets.
Cade said a few words, then rejoined Taylor in the row of chairs lined up on the stage that were occupied by town leaders. Dusty Lamb was the next person to take the microphone. He’d been on the same team as Dalton and felt like Dalton was the big brother he never had. The two had become close in the past three year. He told stories of Dalton encouraging him, being there for him when his mother died, and the friendly competition between them. Sniffles started and spread throughout the crowd when his voice broke while delivering a promise to be there for Dalton and Wyatt’s parents.
Sly Alexander jumped up on the stage next. He was the oldest rider on the circuit and knew Wyatt better than he’d known Dalton. To him, Dalton was just like his older brother and women loved them both. Most of the men in the crowd thought that was funny, but it was entirely different for the women, including Taylor. She immediately got out of her chair and shooed Sly straight off the edge of the platform to the righteous nods of at least half of the crowd, including myself.
A local pastor, seated next to Cade, stood and asked everyone to light their candles. Those who didn’t have candles held up their cell phones, illuminating the night. The pastor said a short prayer for the two souls buried near Enchanted Rock and for Wyatt and Dalton, wherever they may be, assuring the crowd that their spirits would live forever in the community of Hazel Rock, and The Cowboy Ranch. He prayed for a speedy investigation that would hopefully give the Hibbs family some peace and ended his prayer with an, “Amen,” that was heartily repeated by the crowd.
Cade was about to disperse everyone who had gathered when Travis Sinclair, Dalton’s main rival, got up on stage and whispered something in his ear. Cade nodded his approval and handed the mic to Travis.
We all watched as Travis took off his cowboy hat to address the crowd. “Dalton and I have had a very spirited rivalry for several years. Because of that, I’d like to say a short prayer from the hearts of all the b
ull riders.”
Everyone bowed their head.
“Dear God, I wish you would bring Dalton back so I could compete against him this weekend.” Several “here, here’s” were heard from the other riders as Travis paused.
“I gotta tell you”—he looked around the crowd—“only Dalton would leave the fans hanging like this.”
I opened one eye and peeked at the handsome cowboy with his head still bent a respectful angle. Unsure where Travis was taking his prayer, I noticed I wasn’t the only one in the crowd who eyed the stage suspiciously.
Travis didn’t seem bothered as he went on. “Just when I was going to prove to the world that he couldn’t carry my spurs, much less wear them, he goes and messes with the wrong woman. Again.”
Some cowboys in the front row, lifted their heads. Straightened their shoulders. And began to frown at the tone of Travis’s petition to God. It wasn’t prayerful at all, and hats were returning to heads as several jaws tightened.
Travis was undaunted. He finished his prayer with a misplaced passionate plea as Cade stood up. “I hope he burns with the devil. Amen.” He held the microphone straight out at a ninety degree and dropped it to the stage with a loud thud. The crowd gasped. The clunk and clattered, however, was drowned out by the rumble of the crowd as a rush of masculinity headed in Travis’s direction. Some in support, some ready to take his head off, as fists started flying. Cade began corralling Travis and Taylor back away from the angry mob.
Joe pushed Leila behind him even though she was ready to join the melee and help break up the fights erupting all around us. That’s when I saw Jessie and Daisy Mahan attempting to get out of the ruckus near the stage. The elderly man was attempting to shield his wife with his body but was having difficulty getting through the crowd.
I pushed forward, ducked a wild punch that came out of nowhere, and heard it land on someone else’s face with an “ooff.” I bumped shoulders with a cowboy rearing back to hit another, then bounced off a belly that had more spring than muscle. I was having a hard time staying on my feet and wasn’t sure anyone would listen if I tried to interfere, so I just kept my head down and did the only thing I could do to get Jessie and Daisy the heck out of Dodge—I began stomping on feet. One boot here. Another there. There was a yelp, a stomp, and then another stomp before an elbow hit me on the temple.
“Oowww!” It hurt like the dickens and I staggered. When I saw a tennis shoe in the midst, I lashed out and stomped hard, the soft leather shoe getting the full brunt of my anger.
“Aye! Dios Mio!”
Recognition of his voice made me cringe.
I looked up as Mateo grabbed my arm and numerous uniformed officers started rounding up the crowd. It was surprisingly more under control than when I first started ducking punches.
“Mateo? Sorry, I didn’t know that was you. I’ve never seen you wearing tennis shoes.” I know it sounded stupid, but it was true. I’d also never seen him wearing basketball shorts and a T-shirt with the sleeves cut-off. On his days off, he always wore cargo shorts, hiking boots, and a T-shirt with the sleeves intact.
“When you’re coaching basketball, you wear tennis shoes,” he growled.
“You coach?”
“Yes, at the YMCA in Oak Grove.”
“Oh.”
“So if you’re done stomping on my feet, can we let my officers handle this mess and get you out of here?”
“Wait, Jessie and Daisy Mahan need help!”
Mateo pointed toward the stage. Somehow the elderly couple had reached the platform and were standing there shaking their heads at all the other cowboys in the crowd. From the looks on their faces, I suspected Jessie had partaken in similar events back in the day.
“Oh. I guess they don’t need my help.”
The look on Mateo’s face said he didn’t think they ever needed my help, but he wisely kept his mouth shut.
The initial noise that had been deafening, lowered to a disgruntled grumble. The crowd was calmer, but a few fights continued among some guys who were too stupid to know when to say when.
“Now, can we get out of here?” Mateo asked.
I wasn’t that stupid. “Sure.”
Mateo and I walked toward the ranch, away from the media. Through it all, I couldn’t help but notice that Travis was smiling from ear-to-ear, embracing his image of the bad boy in the circuit, while Cade looked like he was ready to tear his head off. Yet, I also wondered if Travis didn’t have the biggest motive in the world for wanting Dalton dead—fame and a whole lot of money.
Chapter Fifteen
“At the rate you’re going, you need self-defense classes,” Mateo said as we drove through the center of town.
“Should I get a gun?” I asked.
“No! Not unless you plan on training with it eight hours a week for the rest of your life.”
I scrunched my nose in distaste. “I can’t see myself doing that.”
“I can’t either. But you do need to learn how to get yourself out of the jams you keep putting yourself in.”
“It was a candlelight memorial! How am I supposed to prepare for that?”
He was completely unfazed by my defensiveness. “It started going bad, and you ran into the thick of it, instead of the opposite direction.”
“Jessie and Daisy were standing up front when all heck broke loose. I was going to help them.”
“If you wanted to help them, you should have gone around the crowd, not through it.”
That warm feeling started spreading through my chest. I looked at Mateo through the corner of my eye. “Were you spying on me?”
“You mean, was I watching out for you? Yes.”
“Why?”
“Does the other night at The Barn or a branding iron ring a bell?”
Somehow finding a dead body had wiped that memory from my head. “I wanted to talk to you about that. I don’t know why I didn’t say this when I gave my statement, but I recognized Dalton’s shirt…at the grave site.”
Mateo shook his head. “Dalton didn’t attack you.”
“Are you sure? Cause I could have sworn the shirt looked the same.”
“I’m sure.”
“Well if it wasn’t Dalton, then it was just a random crime.”
“I don’t have any other reports of someone nearly getting their face tattooed with a branding iron.” He held his hand up when I started to protest. “A branding iron that had a dead guy’s rodeo number on it.”
I hadn’t even thought about that. This whole time I’d thought Dalton had been the one leaving his mark on the barn and my hair, but it couldn’t have been Dalton. When I was attacked, Dalton was in a shallow grave. I shivered. The grotesque view lived in my dreams. Not to mention my thoughts throughout the day.
No, unless Dalton had been a zombie stepping out of his grave the night I was assaulted, he wasn’t the one who left his mark on The Barn.
Mateo parked in front of my family’s store and turned to look at me. “Since you returned to Hazel Rock, you’ve been the victim of several aggravated assaults.”
“Are you telling me that’s my fault?”
“I’m telling you that your decisions need to improve. You have to listen to the instincts in your head.”
“I am. There was a man outside The Barn whom I caught in the middle of an act of vandalism. I startled him, and he lashed out. Had I seen him first, I would have called 911. Then tonight an elderly couple I consider friends, were in danger. Anyone would go to their aid.”
“I saw a lot of people who didn’t care one whit what happened to Jessie and Daisy.”
Before I could argue further, Mateo got out of his patrol car and came around to the passenger side to open my door. When I got out of the car, I couldn’t help but notice how he didn’t step back. In fact, he closed the door and stood so close, looking down at me, that I could feel the heat emanating from his body. The breeze was light, the stars were bright, and the blin
king yellow traffic signal at the end of the street was the only witness to a perfect scene for a first kiss.
My heart pittered, and skipped the patter altogether. Mateo wasn’t as tall as Cade, yet he was still several inches beyond my five feet nine. As I looked into his chocolate-brown eyes, I wanted to melt.
“You are a magnet for trouble.”
“Are you trouble?” I asked, my voice sounding breathy even to my own ears.
The corner of his mouth quirked before a full-blown smile spread across his face. I’d only seen it a few times, and if he used it all the time, women would be falling like flies at his feet. It was that powerful.
“Yeah, I’m trouble.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth and I knew this was it. The moment I’d wanted, and dreaded at the same time.
“I’m trouble because you still have some unfinished business with our mayor.”
“Cade? What about him?”
“You have a past together.”
“Keyword—‘past.’”
Mateo grabbed my hand and kissed it. His lips were warm against my skin and in that single act, I knew I wanted more. No one had ever kissed my hand before. It was romantic, disappointing, encouraging, distracting, not enough and too much all at the same time.
“The look on your face says it’s not that far in the past.”
“He hasn’t called me once in the past two months.”
“Yet you’ve been hoping he would.”
Okay, he had me there. Drat the man. Everything always came back to Cade. It was frustrating. Maddening. I hadn’t had a date in…I didn’t know how long, and Cade was keeping me from having one now. Fuzz buckets.
“Come on, I’ll walk you to your door.” Mateo laced his fingers through mine and we walked across the courtyard and through the gate to the steps leading to my apartment.
