by Kym Roberts
Our dessert of peach cobbler and Homestyle Blue Bell vanilla ice cream had just arrived when a very tired Mateo approached our table in his standard non-duty related clothing of a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and hiking boots. He looked like he hadn’t slept in a week.
“Am I still welcome at your table?” he asked.
“What would make you think you weren’t?”
“Last night you didn’t look too happy with me.”
“Last night you looked mean.”
“That’s because you were having dinner with a man who killed two people. I was feeling kind of mean.”
I scooted over and Mateo joined us. Jessie and Daisy Mahan looked over and I swore I heard a “humpf” from Jessie. “Are you that popular?” I asked.
“It seems I’m downright unpopular since last night.”
“Even with the rodeo circuit?”
Mateo nodded, picked up his fork, and leaned over to take a bite of my cobbler. I looked around at the glares he was receiving, some of them from our very own townspeople like Jessie and Daisy.
“That bad that you can’t wait for your own bowl?” my dad asked him.
“That’s the first bite of real food I’ve had in about thirty-six hours. Besides, Charli’s watching her girlish figure.”
“That’s the problem. It is a girlish figure.” I pulled my bowl off to the side so he couldn’t eat anymore. “We’ll buy you dinner.”
“Does that make this a date?”
“No.”
“I should probably head for home.” My dad started to get up, but I grabbed his hand.
“Don’t you dare.”
Mateo shook his head. “I was just teasing, Bobby Ray. I’m not your daughter’s type.”
I gave him a look that said he had to be out of his ever-livin’ mind and he chucked me under the chin like I was a little girl.
“I came by hoping to ask you two about a book.”
My dad settled back in the booth and the waitress came by to take Mateo’s order of a cobb salad with no dressing and a glass of water. If it’d been that long since I ate real food, I’d be ordering chicken fried steak with mash potatoes smothered in gravy. The waitress left and Mateo became serious.
“Do you keep track of the books you’ve sold?” he asked.
I let my dad answer and focused on my cobbler.
“Princess just got us new software last month to keep track of our inventory. Before then, we just logged the sales by the cost of the book.”
“So in the past month, you’d know how many copies you’ve sold of a certain title?”
“Absolutely. She’s organized The Barn better than ever.”
I would have appreciated the compliment a whole lot more if I didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“Do you recall selling any copies of The Dangerous Eight by Erik Piper this week?”
“Yup. I ordered it in special for the rodeo just like I do every year. We had three copies in stock, and I ordered seven more, but I sold the last three copies yesterday. Fans were expecting to have Erik sign them at the rodeo.”
“Were any of the copies used?”
“Oh, no. We’ve never been able to keep enough of those in stock.”
Mateo turned to me, determined to keep me in the conversation that I wanted no part of. “Did you see a copy of The Dangerous Eight in Scarlet’s trailer?”
“Yes.”
“Was it a new copy?”
“No.”
“Was it in Dalton’s backpack?”
“Yes.”
“The same black backpack that was stolen?”
“Yes.”
Mateo turned his body in the seat and gave me all of his attention. It was one of those moments that I really didn’t want it. “Why do I get the impression you don’t want to talk about this?”
I took my last bite of ice cream and debated licking the bowl. Maybe if I did, Mateo would leave. My dad seemed to know what I was thinking. The corners of his mouth quirked upward.
As a little girl, ice cream became our comfort food at the end of the night. It was the one dessert my mom said she couldn’t compete with. After she died, it was the one food that tasted the way she served it and gave us memories of her. Good memories. And I licked the bowl every night, savoring the taste and the memory.
I pushed the bowl away. “I was just enjoying my dessert.”
Mateo’s salad arrived, and although it looked good, I was debating another serving of peach cobbler and ice cream.
We were silent for a few moments, letting Mateo get some nutrition in his stomach. Yet as hungry as he was, I found him to be a very neat eater. He ate his salad and didn’t try to talk with his mouth full. After a few minutes, he took a drink and asked his question one more time.
“Why don’t you want to talk about this?”
“Because it directly affects Scarlet’s happiness.”
“It directly affects the investigation of two homicides.”
“I know that. I want to help; I just don’t want to hurt Scarlet at the same time.”
Mateo took a few bites and thought about that for a few minutes before continuing. “Did you see any writing in the paperback edition of The Dangerous Eight from Dalton’s backpack?”
“No.”
“No, you didn’t see any writing, or no the book you saw the writing in wasn’t in Dalton’s backpack when you saw the writing.”
“I don’t know what you’re rambling about, but no—”
He stopped his bite midway to his mouth and looked over his fork.
“No to both questions.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
Mateo set down his fork and put his arm across the back of the booth before he turned back toward me, staring directly into my eyes. He was that kind of guy. Straightforward, everything out on the table. Yet it was also kind of hard for me to think of a man in uniform being so straight with me. That hadn’t been my experience growing up in Hazel Rock. I was, however, beginning to believe that I may have judged all, by the ignorance of one. The problem with changing my beliefs was that they were deeply ingrained in my makeup from an early age and altering my beliefs, wasn’t going to happen overnight.
“What do you want to ask me?” Mateo said.
“Do you really believe Dalton killed his brother?”
“I believe the facts point to him doing it.”
“What facts?”
“The gun that killed Erik also killed Wyatt.”
“But I never saw that gun in Dalton’s backpack.”
“It was in his cabin.”
“So what’s the big deal about the book?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“You can’t tell me?” I was reverting back to those old beliefs. He was open when it was convenient.
My dad stepped in before I could create a scene, although Daisy was straining to hear across the aisle. Luckily the crowd was too loud. “Charli, you’re being unreasonable. Give the man a break.”
“But Daddy this is Scarlet we’re talking about. The only person who stood up for me when I returned to Hazel Rock.”
“Cade stood up for you. He was a major pain in my butt.” Mateo tossed back a drink of his water like it was a shot of whiskey.
“My point is, Scarlet needs me to stand up for her happiness. To make sure the man she loves is guilty, and not just another innocent man going to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“My job is to follow the facts, Charli.” Mateo’s voice was low and serious. “I’m going to give you a little tidbit that the media doesn’t know…yet. They’ll know tomorrow when the paperwork gets filed with the courts, but today, they’re oblivious. So, if it comes out before they’re filed, I’ll know the source and I’ll come looking for you. Is that clear?”
“Completely.” There was no way, no how I was going back to his jail. Been there, done that, not going to do it again.
“Inside the book, The Dangerous Eight, is a hand drawn map to Wyatt’s grave. And that’s why I wanted to know if you had seen any writing in the copy you saw in Dalton’s backpack.”
“I didn’t open the book. I only moved it out of the way.”
Mateo nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate your honesty.” He dug in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Then he put a twenty-dollar bill on the table and stood up.
“You haven’t finished your salad.”
“I’ve lost my appetite. If you’ll excuse me.” He turned to my dad. “Bobby Ray, I’ll see you for breakfast?”
“Of course.”
He nodded and then met my gaze. His eyes had lost the teasing sparkle and I was keenly aware that I was responsible for it.
“Charli. Have a good night.” Mateo turned and walked away without another word.
Jessie and Daisy glared in my direction. They didn’t know what had been said. All they knew was that Mateo had left without eating his dinner and even though they’d been irritated with him a few minutes ago, the fact that he’d left without finishing his dinner was not acceptable. And they knew it was directly related to his conversation with me.
I looked to my dad for support. He shook his head and waved at the waitress for our bill. “I can see where not having me around has hurt your communication skills with the opposite sex.”
He was right. I’d never really given any man the time of day after I’d left Hazel Rock. But I wouldn't go so far as to say I didn’t know how to communicate with all males. My five- and six-year-old male students loved me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Dalton Hibbs posted bond this morning. It’s rumored that promoter Taylor Goode of the CBR posted his half-million-dollar bond before the sun could rise over Enchanted Rock. But the question remains, will we see Dalton Hibbs in the next round at The Cowboy Ranch Invitational? Reporting live from the Coleman County Courthouse, this is Liza Twaine for ABN News.”
I clicked the power button on the remote and stared down at Princess, sitting on her back legs and begging for a piece of my croissant with blackberry jam. “It’s not looking good for Scarlet and Dalton,” I told her.
She twitched her nose and winked a beady eye at me.
“So do you think they stand a chance?”
Princess shook her head, put down her paws and waddled away as I put the last bite of my breakfast in my mouth. I wasn’t sure if she was saying Scarlet and Dalton didn’t stand a chance, or if she was giving up on me. I was talking to an armadillo and not a man who’d liked me enough to spend the night.
Of course, I was probably reading too much into it. She was an armadillo. She wanted my blackberry jam.
I got up and began to get ready for the day, slowly removing the bandages on my right arm before my shower. I cringed as the hair on my arm came off with the Band-Aid, and then again when I got a look at the raw skin. It was just nasty. The doc had told me to take them off in a couple days and today was the day. My shower was easier this time. By easier, I mean I’d learned to deal with my limitations, and yesterday I’d moved my shampoo, conditioner, razor, and soap all down on the bench.
I stepped into a sundress and chose a jeweled purse with matching flip flops for shoes. It was a bold move. Not because of the fashion statement, but because of the style. At the rodeo, you wanted to have your feet covered from what the animals left behind and the number of boots walking around.
Dad drove me to The Ranch and volunteered to pick me up when I was ready to go home, since Sugar was helping out at the store today. I gave him a kiss and thanked him for the ride, but told him I’d find a lift home. There was no way I was going to ask him to pick me up. He’d been putting in long hours all week and if business slowed down enough for him to get a few hours off, he deserved it. The last thing he needed was to be my chauffeur.
I still had my donut with the blue wave tucked under my arm as my constant companion. I decided the night before that pink had nothing to do with my back luck, nor did the blue. It was just me and that bull’s-eye of doom I’d always thought hovered above my head. Somedays I swore it was tattooed on my forehead.
Jessie and Daisy were walking into The Ranch ahead of me and I caught up to them; determined to mend any riff they might have with me. “Good morning, Jessie.” I patted him on the shoulder, bearing the pain to be cordial. “Daisy, that’s a beautiful dress.”
Daisy looked down her nose at me. How she did that when I was five inches taller than her, I wasn’t sure. But she did it, and did it well. “That’s my husband,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. And he’s one lucky man to have you.”
Her nose lowered at tad, but not back to its normal level. Jessie tipped his hat and they were gone. Next, I saw Aubrey and Liza Twaine and decided that was one meeting I wasn’t going to push. I ducked behind a couple big guys, pacing their gait as they approached the entrance. At the last minute, I cut-off at the back of The Ranch where I was supposed to check in for my shift.
Of course, one of the last people I wanted to see was talking to Taylor. I was glad she had posted Dalton’s bond—sort of, but wasn’t happy she was in the midst of a very friendly conversation with Cade and her mouth was within close proximity to his ear.
Nosier than I should’ve been, I snuck up from the side, hiding behind cowboys heading into the barn and other volunteers bringing ice on a four-wheeler out to the arena.
“I don’t know what to tell you. I’ve never had to work this part of the rodeo before.”
“But eight thousand? We were slow yesterday,” Cade insisted.
Taylor shrugged.
“It’s not that we don’t appreciate it, we do—” Cade caught my movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward me. “Prin—Charli. What are you doing here?”
“I thought I’d try my hand at bull riding.”
My snarkiness irritated him, but he didn’t rub his neck or run his hand through his hair. He decided to wait me out instead.
I hated that tactic. I usually lost. Like now. “I’m here to run the ticket booth.”
Taylor wrapped her hand around Cade’s bicep and herded him toward the barn. “Go see Daisy. She’ll get you set up. She’s right inside the side door of the arena.”
“Please be careful, Charli,” Cade added and walked away with Taylor.
Charli. I never thought Cade calling me Charli, instead of Princess, would hurt. I guess I was wrong.
I entered the arena and knocked on the door to the ticket booth. Daisy answered the door and let me in while Jessie opened one of the windows where a line was beginning to form even though the rodeo didn’t start for a couple hours. That’s when I realized the line wasn’t made up of fans. It consisted of the media, willing to pay for their entrance instead of waiting the hour and a half till their press-pass got them in for free.
That could not be good.
“Why is the press paying to get in?”
“They’re all wanting to get the good shot of the crowd’s reaction to Dalton Hibbs.”
“So he’s coming, for sure?”
“It’s just rumor and speculation at this point. The mayor asked the sheriff to provide more security.”
Dag-nabbit. That meant Scarlet was going to be drawn straight in the middle of it. “Can I make a phone call?”
Daisy shook her head. “What would your generation do if they had to work a solid eight hours without calling or texting someone?”
I gave her a weak smile. “Sorry, it’ll just take a minute.” I walked past Jessie toward the back of the room.
“That’s my husband,” Daisy said as she wagged her finger in my direction.
“No worries. I’ve given up men.” Or they’d given up on me. Either way, I was willing to accept my single status.
On the third ring, I’d just about given up on Scarlet ever answering a call of mine again when she came on the line, her voice lower than normal, almost unreco
gnizable.
“Hello.”
“Scarlet?”
“Hi, Charli. I thought maybe you were a reporter.”
“From my cell phone?”
“They’ve called from every kind of phone imaginable. You never know. Listen I’m in a hurry, can you make it quick?”
“Where are you going?” I knew the answer, but I hoped I was wrong.
“Dalton is going to ride today, so I’m trying to make sure I look my best.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Scarlet.” I was uncomfortable with her spending so much time with a man charged with two counts of murder.
“It’s the best idea, considering the circumstance. Dalton is innocent. If we continue to hide, he looks guilty.”
I thought he would look sane, but that was just my opinion. “The media is lining up and paying to get in early and get good seats.”
“Are you here to work, or lollygag on the phone?” Daisy asked.
I held my finger up and signaled I’d just be a moment.
“Good, then they’ll see how good he really is,” said Scarlet.
I’d heard the deep breath she sucked into her lungs before answering. No matter what she said, Scarlet was worried.
“They’re going to be looking at you too.”
“I’ll see you there in a few minutes. Thanks for the heads up.”
Scarlet hung up and I stuck my phone back in my purse. I plopped my donut down in the seat by the second window. Daisy had it ready with a cash drawer and a credit card scanner. After a short explanation of how the credit card machine worked, I drew up the blind and reporters started running toward the empty line. Peter Kroft and Aiden were second in line. Peter gave me fifty dollars in cash and then hounded me for information about Scarlet. “Have you seen her? Was Dalton with her? Will she be present for his return today?”
I smiled and replied, “Y’all have a good time now, ya hear?” I printed off one ticket. Then I told Aiden we accepted credit cards if he didn’t have the cash. He grumbled something about free press as he handed me five dollars. I wrote the amount on his ticket and told him it was tax deductible and that The Cowboy Ranch appreciated his support. He ignored me and walked away.
