The Lawman

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “I’ll take a glass of ginger ale,” Freddy said, coming out of her office. “How are you, Eb? Hope the drive over didn’t get that new truck of yours too muddy.”

  “A truck like mine’s built to take a little mud. Just last week I drove it across the riverbed after some strays, and it didn’t get stuck once. They don’t make them any better than that model.”

  Leigh hurried from the room before she had to hear another story about Eb’s marvelous truck. She might have been more tolerant if Eb had earned the money to finance his materialistic tastes, but his wife had inherited the tidy sum that had allowed Eb to buy a hundred acres from Leigh’s father twenty-five years ago. When Loraine Whitlock died, Eb seemed to focus completely on his possessions and made no bones about wanting to add the True Love to his list of things to brag about.

  She found Manny, one of two waiters they kept on in the summer months, arranging place settings in the dining room. She gave him the drinks order and he nodded.

  “Thanks, Manny,” she said. “Maybe you’d better bring a beer for Ry, too. He should show up soon. Make that two beers,” she added. “I imagine Joe Gilardini will be joining us, too.”

  Manny grinned. “That little kid of his has been playing Scrabble all afternoon with Dex. Belinda loves it, because Dex is using words he couldn’t remember before. The kid taught them how to do high fives, and every time Dexter uses a new word, there are high fives all around. You should see Belinda and Dexter doing a high five. It’s hilarious.”

  Leigh’s chuckle was tinged with admiration. “Kyle’s a great kid.” If only Joe could appreciate his son’s strengths instead of focusing on his weaknesses, she thought sadly. She thanked Manny again and returned to the living room, where Ry had joined the group. Down the hall, the door to Joe’s room was closed. She suspected he was inside cleaning up. Taking off his clothes. Taking a shower.

  With an effort, she pushed those thoughts aside and smiled at Ry and Freddy, who had apparently settled their differences and were tucked into the love seat with Ry’s arm draped possessively over the leather back.

  Eb glanced at Leigh as she chose a seat on the long sofa. “I’ve just been telling Ry and Freddy what I told you, Leigh. You folks can’t go on this way. Admit it, your bookings are down for the fall season.”

  “The rodeo will generate more business,” Freddy said. She paused as Manny came in and served the drinks. “Once we have the arena set up, we can schedule another rodeo in November and perhaps even a third in February. Amanda has some dynamite ideas for promotion. We’ll be okay.”

  Ry picked up his bottle of beer and took a swallow. “And speaking of the rodeo, Eb, we’d like to rent Grateful Dead for the bull-riding competition.”

  Freddy almost spilled her ginger ale as her glance snapped toward her husband. “And who, pray tell, plans to ride that monster? Don’t tell me. I think I can guess.” Putting down her glass, she stood and walked over to the fireplace, where she turned back to face Ry. “I’d hoped Romeo had knocked some sense into that thick skull of yours.”

  Ry shrugged. “I rode him.”

  Freddy threw up her hands in a gesture of frustration. “I give up. My baby’s destined to be the child of a cripple.”

  “Baby?” asked Joe, who walked in just in time for Freddy’s last statement. His hair still damp and curled from the shower, and attired in a fresh Western shirt and jeans, he made Leigh catch her breath. His gaze rested warmly on her for a brief second before he turned to Freddy. “What’s this about a baby?”

  “We’re going to have one.” She paused to glare at her husband. “Although I’m beginning to think men as hardheaded as Ry McGuinnes shouldn’t be allowed to reproduce.”

  Joe grinned and addressed Ry. “Congratulations.” His gaze swept to include Freddy. “That’s great news...isn’t it?”

  Freddy gestured toward Ry. “Go ahead. Tell him what a fool you are.”

  Ry reached for the extra beer on the coffee table and handed it to Joe. “Eb here has a Brahma bull that’s never been ridden to the buzzer.”

  “And why you keep him I’ll never know,” Freddy put in.

  “Because he’s the best,” Eb said with a Chesire-cat smile. “I get offers from rodeo stock people all the time who want to buy him outright, but I’m not selling. If you want to try ridin’ him, McGuinnes, be my guest. I might even waive the rental fee, seeing as how we’re neighbors.”

  “How charitable of you,” Leigh murmured. Eb would love to see Ry knocked six ways to Sunday. A disabled Ry would improve the rancher’s chances for acquiring the True Love. “I agree with Freddy, Ry,” Leigh said. “That bull is a tough customer. Romeo is a sweetheart unless you put the bull rope on him, but Grateful Dead is another story.”

  Eb laughed and glanced at Joe. “Know why he’s called Grateful Dead? Because after he tosses you, you’re grateful you ain’t dead.”

  “Nobody can deny he’d be a great draw for the rodeo,” Ry said, taking another swig of his beer.

  “The Christians and the lions were a great draw for the Roman-coliseum crowd, too,” Freddy said. “I never figured you for a martyr, though.”

  “I’ve decided you’re all martyrs,” Eb said. “Flying in the face of the True Love Curse.”

  “And what is that, again?” Joe asked. “I never can get these superstitions straight.”

  “The cavalry massacred some Indians on this land, so the Indians cursed it and said no white man would ever make a profit here,” Eb said.

  “Is that so?” Joe gazed at Eb. “Then why are you—” He stopped speaking as Kyle ran into the room.

  Kyle skidded to a stop and glanced uncertainly at his father. “Belinda told me to wash up for dinner.”

  “Who’s this?” Eb boomed, leaning over the arm of his chair to stare at Kyle. “And what’re those funny things on his ears?”

  Joe walked over to Kyle and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “This is my son, Kyle,” he said in an even tone. “Kyle, this is Mr. Whitlock, who owns the Rocking W Ranch right next to ours. I guess he’s not a `Star Trek’ fan.”

  Eb blinked. “`Star Trek’? Oh, I see. That weird guy with the ears, Dr. Spock or something.”

  Kyle drew himself up straighter. “Mr. Spock,” he said.

  Ry joined the exchange, a challenging gleam in his eye. “You have to forgive Mr. Whitlock, Kyle. At his age, it’s tough to keep up with things.”

  “Now, wait a minute,” blustered Eb. “I never wanted to keep up with all that space stuff.”

  “Exactly Ry’s point,” Leigh said. “Space is the wave of the future, a concept for the younger generation.”

  Kyle’s gaze swung from Ry to Leigh. Leigh winked at him and a slow smile spread across his face.

  “Better go wash up, buddy,” Joe said, squeezing Kyle’s shoulder gently.

  “Okay.” Kyle turned to Eb with new confidence. “Nice meeting you. I’m sorry you’re so old.”

  Leigh bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing as Kyle skipped from the room. A glance into Joe’s twinkling eyes told her he’d enjoyed the interchange as much as she had. And he’d acknowledged his son, Spock ears and all. She raised her tea mug slightly in salute. He responded with an almost imperceptible lift of his beer bottle and his teeth flashed beneath his mustache in a brief smile. Leigh felt giddy with hope, and the beginnings of a deeper emotion she dared not give a name to.

  o * * *

  ALL JOE WANTED was five minutes alone with Leigh to apologize. Wonderful though the kiss had been, it never should have happened. He’d put her at risk. He’d been so determined to finish the damn car door that he’d ignored his own safety, which wasn’t too smart, considering his responsibility to Kyle. He hated to think he’d developed such a taste for personal danger over the years that he’d welcome a lightning storm.

  But regardless of his own stupidity, he’d almost caused injury to Leigh. He hoped she’d forgive him, although he doubted he’d ever forgive himself.

  Th
e dinner with Eb Whitlock dragged on forever, it seemed. When the festivities moved from the dining room to the living room, Joe excused himself to put Kyle to bed. When he returned, Eb was back in the overstuffed chair he seemed to prefer, drinking coffee with Leigh, Freddy and Ry. Two of the guests, a couple from Japan, had joined the group and seemed entranced by Eb’s stories.

  Joe stood in front of the fireplace and observed Eb. No doubt the guy was acquisitive, not to mention obnoxious, but Joe had a hard time imagining he’d stage all the accidents just to add another hundred and sixty acres to his holdings. The bragging value didn’t seem high enough for that, and owning the True Love wouldn’t change Eb’s life appreciably. Time and again Joe had to consider who had the most at stake—Belinda, Duane, Freddy...and Leigh. Under normal circumstances none of them would react this way, but he, Ry and Chase had backed them into a corner, and that could produce dangerous behavior.

  When Eb finally left, Ry cornered Joe and indicated he wanted a powwow on the patio. Joe spent a half hour explaining to a very disappointed Ry that he didn’t think Eb was the culprit.

  “You said yourself these were desperate acts,” Joe said as they sat in lounge chairs. The pool, lit from beneath the water, glowed in its tiled setting like a smooth turquoise. The rain had cooled the night air until it was almost crisp, and no evening swimmers marred the glasslike surface.

  “The brushfire was definitely the act of a desperate person,” Ry said. “And I might add that my wife was nowhere near the ranch when it broke out.”

  Joe waved aside the comment. “People can be hired. She could be in league with Belinda, Dexter or Leigh. My point is, all of those people have reasons to be desperate. Whitlock doesn’t. I can see why you’d like to nail him. He’s an irritating son of a bitch, but unfortunately that’s not against the law.”

  “You sound like Lavette. He keeps telling me not to let my dislike of Whitlock get in the way of my judgment. But I keep thinking there might be something we don’t know, something that would make Whitlock willing to commit those acts. I think he’s vicious enough. He can hardly wait to get me on that bull of his.”

  “Yeah, what’s that all about? Do you have a death wish or something?”

  Ry grinned. “That bull will probably toss me six ways to Sunday, but having him perform will be good publicity for the rodeo, and I’m about the only guy willing to get aboard. And who knows? Maybe by some miracle I’ll stay on for eight seconds. It would be sweet if I could make it to the buzzer and wipe that damned smirk off Whitlock’s mug. But all of that’s secondary, really.”

  “And what’s primary?”

  “The real reason I’m riding that bull is that I can’t ever let Freddy think she’s tamed me. She’s a hell of a strong woman, and once I start saying, `Yes, dear,’ our relationship will go downhill fast. I have to keep that balance.”

  Joe laughed and shook his head. “Watching you two is sort of like watching King Kong and Godzilla battle it out.”

  “I wouldn’t let Freddy hear you say that. I doubt she’d feel flattered to be compared to either of those characters, especially after she starts getting a little rounder, if you know what I mean.” Ry pushed himself up from the chair. “Well, I can see you’re not going to support my case against Whitlock, so I’d better go find that wife of mine and see if she’ll welcome me into her bed tonight. It’s never a sure thing.”

  “Sounds like a rough way to live.”

  “Nah. I love a challenge.” Ry adjusted his hat and walked inside.

  After he left, Joe went looking for Leigh. She wasn’t in the living room or dining room. When he poked his head in through the swinging door of the kitchen, Belinda looked up from the table where she was busy making out a shopping list.

  “Still hungry, cowboy?” she said in her lilting voice.

  He liked being called that. “No, thanks. Dinner was great. Have you seen Leigh?”

  Belinda’s eyes twinkled. “Try the front porch. She likes to sit out there with Dexter and Chloe.”

  As Belinda had predicted, Joe found Dexter and Leigh sitting in the shadows with Dexter’s black-and-white dog curled at their feet. Dexter said something in a low voice and Leigh laughed softly. Joe’s heart turned over at the inviting sound of it.

  The dog noticed him first and raised her head.

  Then Leigh glanced toward the door, her delicate silver earrings winking in the light spilling from a nearby window. She’d combed her hair free of its braid and it hung free down her back. “Hello, Joe.”

  The sound of his name coming from her lips was sweet torture. “Hi.”

  “Dexter was telling me about the Scrabble game with Kyle. I guess they had a great afternoon together.”

  “Great,” Dexter echoed.

  “Glad to hear it.” Joe wondered how to describe his afternoon. Earth-shattering, perhaps.

  The front door opened behind him and Belinda stepped out. “Bedtime, Dexter,” she said.

  “You’re sure?” Dexter asked.

  “I’m sure,” she replied firmly.

  “Okay.” Dexter reached for his walker. “Come on, dog. What’s her name, again?”

  “Chloe,” Leigh said.

  “Chloe,” Dexter repeated. “Why can’t I remember?”

  “You will,” Leigh said gently. “Every day you’re getting better, Dex. Keep playing Scrabble with Kyle.”

  “Great game,” Dexter said as he pulled himself erect and moved the walker across the wooden porch toward his wife. “High fives.”

  “Kyle was so sweet to play with Dexter all afternoon,” Belinda said to Joe. “He’s a nice boy.”

  “I’m sure he enjoyed it, too,” Joe said.

  “I hope so. Good night, you two.”

  “Good night,” Leigh and Joe said together.

  Joe held the door for them as they went inside, Belinda following Dexter’s measured progress and Chloe trotting behind Belinda. Then he quietly closed the door.

  “Kyle accomplished quite a feat this afternoon,” Leigh said.

  “What’s that?” So aware of her that his skin tingled, he sat on the chair recently vacated by Dexter.

  “With that Scrabble game, he’s found a teaching tool that might help Dexter overcome some of his communication difficulties. And a boy with an empathetic personality like Kyle’s is perfect for working with Dexter.”

  “That’s great, of course, but—” He paused, knowing they were dealing with thorny issues, wishing he could just sit here and absorb the magic of the night a little longer.

  “But?”

  “Kyle spends too much time indoors, as it is. I was hoping this vacation would be different for him.”

  A tense silence followed his comment. “There are times when it’s prudent to be indoors,” she said at last.

  So she regretted the moment they’d shared, he thought with a sinking sensation in his stomach. “You’re right. That’s why I came out here, to apologize for this afternoon. I should never have—”

  “Kissed me?” The question had a harsh ring.

  “That’s—”

  “I’m sure you regret giving in to your impulses.” She stood and walked to the edge of the porch. “A good lawman doesn’t let emotion interfere with his judgment like that, does he? And certainly not with the suspect in a crime.”

  He ran his finger thoughtfully over his mustache as he gazed at her profile, cold and unyielding in the pale light from the stars. “No, I wasn’t acting very professionally this afternoon,” he said.

  She crossed her arms and looked up at the night sky, free of clouds now, although there was no moon. “I’m guessing you’re a Scorpio.”

  “Which, I suppose, explains everything.”

  “It explains a lot.” She didn’t even gloat over the fact she’d been right about his sign.

  “Don’t try to pin labels on me, Leigh.”

  She turned back to him, her face shadowed. “Not labels. Human traits. Human frailties. You do have them.”

&
nbsp; He pushed out of the chair and stepped closer. “I realize that. I just said I made some mistakes this afternoon.”

  “Mistakes you plan to correct, I take it.”

  A soft breeze carried her wildflower scent to him. His heart pounded as desire stalked him like a jungle cat. “You tell me. You have all the answers.”

  “So do you.” Her voice caressed the air around him. “You just don’t realize it.”

  “Probably not. I’m not as subtle as you.” Need tightened his chest, making breathing a chore.

  “Ah. It’s not a big step from subtle to devious, now, is it?”

  “Stop it, Leigh. I didn’t say that.”

  “But I expect you were thinking it. How inconvenient for a man of your sensibilities that you’re attracted to someone who could turn out to be your criminal.” She leaned against a post and wrapped her arms behind it in a provocative gesture that lifted and defined her breasts beneath the soft material of her blouse. “I should take pity on you and keep out of your way, I suppose. But it’s too much fun trying to get a rise out of you, so to speak.”

  He lost the battle. Muttering an oath, he slid one hand behind the small of her back and the other behind the nape of her neck. He took some small satisfaction in the knowledge that she was trembling.

  “My goodness.” Her voice was raspy, which excited him all the more. “Are we about to be unprofessional again?”

  “You witch.” He pulled her roughly against him and took her mouth in a kiss meant to punish. Yet when she opened to him, the lush promise of her lips drowned his anger and replaced it with blinding passion. All of her teasing dissolved into the most honest response he’d ever experienced from a woman. She held nothing back, and in seconds he was fully, achingly aroused.

  Yet now was not the time to finish this. Maybe the time would never come. Steeling himself for deprivation, he released her and backed away.

  She leaned against the post again, her chest heaving. Then she ran her tongue slowly over her lips, and he groaned. “Coward,” she whispered. He turned away, not trusting himself to reply to her taunt.

  “Sleep well, cowboy,” she murmured.