The Lawman

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “See you all in the morning,” Leigh said, starting toward the back patio gate that would provide a shortcut to her room.

  Joe followed her. “Leigh.”

  She turned just inside the gate. “Yes?”

  He lowered his voice, aware they might be overheard by Chase, Ry and Freddy. “We need to talk.” I need to make love to you.

  She laid a hand on his arm. “I can see how involved you are with the investigation, and God knows it needs to be solved, for all our sakes. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Her rejection knocked the breath out of him. “But—”

  “Good night, Joe.” She slipped through the gate and was gone, leaving him totally confused. He’d seen the light in her eyes when he’d walked out to meet her at the rodeo grounds. He’d expected clear sailing from that moment on. What the hell had happened?

  * * *

  AN HOUR INTO THE RODEO the next afternoon, Leigh surveyed the crowd from the bed of a open wagon drawn up beside the stands. Belinda and Dexter were sitting next to her on lawn chairs, with Kyle on Dexter’s far side, and a vacant chair ready for Amanda and Bart, who were due to arrive at any moment. A canvas awning provided shade. It was Ry’s creative suggestion to provide a comfortable spot for Belinda, Dexter, Amanda and the baby. Dexter had requested that Kyle join them. Following her team-roping event with Ry, Leigh had climbed up on the wagon to see if anyone in the group needed anything.

  “We’re fine,” Belinda assured her. “You and Ry were wonderful, by the way. I yelled myself hoarse.”

  “It was fun.” Leigh was proud of the way she and Ry had worked together in their first competition. Pussywillow wasn’t as well trained as Penny Lover, but she was adequate. Ry had ridden Red Devil and the big gelding had performed well. They hadn’t won the event, but they’d come close.

  “Kyle’s father certainly has been busy today,” Belinda commented.

  “He has a lot on his mind,” Leigh said. She knew Joe had checked and rechecked every detail of the rodeo to make sure Eb Whitlock hadn’t sabotaged anything. He’d kept a constant eye on Eb, who’d spent the day strutting around the rodeo grounds bragging about Grateful Dead’s upcoming performance. Leigh had tried to stay out of Joe’s way, knowing he was in full cop mode. The strength of her feelings would only interfere with his concentration.

  She listened to the rodeo announcer describe the bareback bronc-riding event and searched the area around the bucking chutes, figuring Joe would be down there making sure everything was going smoothly. She couldn’t find him. She scanned the crowd and the perimeter of the arena and still couldn’t locate him.

  The announcer finished his introduction. “But before we continue the event, I have someone here with something to say to a certain young lady.”

  The microphone crackled. “Leigh, this is Joe. I’ve been trying to talk to you all day but you keep ducking me.”

  Warmth washed over her and she placed a hand over her racing heart. She could feel the attention of everyone in the arena focused on the little wagon beside the stands.

  “I’d order you to meet me, but I know Singleton women don’t take kindly to orders. So if you can spare the time, come to Grateful Dead’s pen immediately. Please.”

  The stands erupted in laughter and Leigh’s face flamed. She glanced at Kyle, who was staring at her with his mouth open. Speechless herself, she could only shrug and give him a silly smile.

  “I think you’d better go meet him, sweetheart,” Belinda said gently, giving her a nudge. “No telling what message he’ll put on the P.A. system next.”

  Leigh stumbled down from the wagon in a daze. Surely she was dreaming. Joe Gilardini, the man who kept his feelings guarded more carefully than Fort Knox, wouldn’t announce his relationship with her over a loudspeaker. As she skirted the arena fence, a few cowboys called out kidding remarks, but then the announcer started the bronc-riding event, and everyone’s attention returned to the competition.

  Everyone’s except for the tall cowboy standing next to Grateful Dead’s pen. Joe’s gaze, steady and sure, drew her closer.

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe you did that.”

  “Can’t you? I’m a desperate man. You won’t have anything to do with me.”

  “I’m trying to help!”

  “By frustrating the daylights out of me?” He took a stride forward and grabbed her elbows. “Just when I have everything figured out, you’re nowhere to be found!”

  “You’ve figured out why Whitlock wants this place?”

  “No, you crazy idiot.” He smiled gently. “I’ve figured out that I’m hopelessly in love with you.”

  She stared up at him in total shock. Of all the ways she’d imagined he’d finally break down and tell her, declaring it in the middle of a crowded rodeo grounds while he was working on the sabotage case was not one of them.

  “Well, don’t you have anything to say?” he demanded.

  “You’re at the climax of an investigation!”

  His gray eyes danced. “But that’s not the climax I keep thinking about.”

  Desire blossomed in her, but she fought her reaction. “You have to concentrate and forget about me for now,” she said with as much firmness as she could muster.

  He pulled her close. “I can’t.”

  She tried to put some space between them, but he wouldn’t allow it. “Now, Joe, I’m sure that after twenty years you’ve learned how to block out your emotions at a time like this.”

  “So I did.” He looked down at her, his gaze smoldering. “But you’ve changed me. I can’t block you out. I want to hold you, to make love to you.”

  She felt momentary panic. What had she done?

  “Don’t look so scared,” he said gently. “I’m still a good cop. I’ll figure this guy out. But I can’t go it alone anymore. Even if we can’t make love this minute, I need to know that we will, and soon. Most of all, I have to know that you’re on my side.”

  She cupped his face in both hands, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, yes. A thousand times, yes! I was saving this moment for when we could concentrate completely on each other. I didn’t realize...”

  “That I needed you?”

  “Forgive me, my darling.” She blocked out the noisy crowd and the flurry of activity around them. She blocked out everything except the passion in his gray eyes. “I love you, Joe,” she said, tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks. “You’re the missing part of me, the man I’ve been searching for all my life.”

  “And I was such a fool, I didn’t know I was searching. But I was.” He lowered his mouth to hers. “And I found you,” he whispered just before he claimed her lips.

  “Joe!”

  With a muttered oath, he lifted his head.

  “I’m sorry, Joe. Leigh.” Chase paused to catch his breath. “But Amanda’s found something in that diary. Jethro Whitlock knew Clara Singleton. He mentioned her several times and said something in the diary about going back after what was his. It could have been Clara, but it also could have been a shipment of gold he took from the Butterfield Stage. The gold from that robbery was never recovered, and it would be worth several million now. Amanda thinks it’s buried on the ranch.”

  Joe released Leigh and turned to Chase. “Would Whitlock know about the diary?”

  “Just before we came down here we called the Arizona Historical Society. They remembered Whitlock coming in there during the past year, and apparently he was interested in the diary.”

  “Then we’d better have a little talk with Whitlock.”

  “That’s just it,” Chase said. “He’s disappeared. Ry’s supposed to ride Grateful Dead in about fifteen minutes, so you’d think he’d be around for that.”

  “Unless he’s gone after the gold now, knowing half the valley would be watching his bull pulverize Ry,” Joe said.

  “There’s another thing,” Chase added. “Kyle just interpreted this from something Dexter was trying to say over at the wagon. Dexter seems
to think the gold could be buried under the old homestead floor.”

  Joe looked at Leigh. “That’s it,” he said. “Everything falls into place now. Leigh and I scared off a couple of guys out there the other night. They must have been sent out to start digging.”

  Chase’s eyes narrowed. “And now, while everybody’s at the rodeo—”

  “Let’s go,” Joe said. “We’ll be less conspicuous on horseback than if we take one of the trucks.”

  “I’ll ride Destiny,” Chase said, loping off toward the pens where the cutting horses were kept.

  “Take Pussywillow, Joe,” Leigh said. “She’s fast.”

  “Good idea.” He started off toward the pens just as Ry rode up on Red Devil.

  He wheeled his horse in front of Joe. “Amanda just told me the story.”

  “We think Whitlock’s at the homestead. Lavette and I are riding out there.”

  Ry tugged his hat over his eyes. “So am I.”

  “You have an event in less than fifteen minutes,” Joe reminded him.

  Ry grinned. “Maybe I won’t have to ride that bull, after all.” He held out a hand to Joe. “Hop on. I’ll give you a lift to the holding pens.”

  Joe started to get on without a backward glance. Leigh wondered if he’d forgotten she was standing there. Then he seemed to catch himself and came back to her.

  He gripped her arms and his gaze was intent. “Take care of Kyle for me.”

  She gasped. “Don’t say things like that. You’re coming back.”

  He smiled at her. “Of course I am. I meant just for the next hour or so. I don’t want him to worry about what we’re up to.”

  “I’ll take care of him.” She concentrated hard, surrounding Joe with protective light.

  “I love you,” he murmured. Then he vaulted to the back of Ry’s horse and they galloped away.

  Leigh knew that if she kept very quiet and focused on what was about to happen out at the homestead, she would know how the coming confrontation would turn out. If millions of dollars was at stake, Eb would be a dangerous enemy. By using her powers, she could find out whether Joe would emerge unscathed...or not. She wiped all thought of the homestead from her mind as she hurried over to the wagon to reassure Kyle.

  * * *

  JOE, Ry and Chase cut across a little-used trail to reach the riverbed, then doubled back toward the homestead, approaching at a slow walk with Joe in the lead. He paused and held up his hand to call a halt. As he listened, sorting through the rustling of animals in the brush and the chirping of birds, he heard the rhythmic sounds of shovels biting into the dirt. Joe reached into his boot and pulled out his .38.

  He nudged Pussywillow and motioned the other two men to follow him. He had the only gun, but Ry and Chase had ropes and knew how to use them far better than he did. Joe was counting on the element of surprise to give them an advantage, as well as something less tangible. Whitlock was after money. Joe and his partners cared about something more important than that. They were fighting for their home.

  Closer in, he heard voices and held up his hand again. Turning in his saddle, he used gestures and mouthed instructions to send Chase around to his left, Ry around to his right. He’d explained on the way over that he would go in first, gun drawn. If Whitlock and his men offered no resistance, Chase and Ry could ride in afterward and help tie them up. If they did offer resistance, then Joe hoped his partners were as good at roping two-legged critters as they seemed to be with four-legged ones.

  Joe started forward again. Through the mesquite branches he could see them—two men besides Whitlock. A battered old truck with a winch on the front bumper was pulled up close to the hole they’d made in the floor of the homestead, and they were straining to get two cables fastened around something in the hole. If they hadn’t been totally engrossed in hauling a fortune out of the ground, they would have heard him approach. But buried treasure had made them temporarily deaf.

  Whitlock was the only one armed. He had a handgun in a holster on his hip. He stood back and allowed his men to do the dirty work. Joe decided to let them get the gold all the way out before he interrupted their little party. Ingots were damned heavy.

  Cursing and sweating, the men positioned the cables beneath the chest and tightened them. The winch whined as one man operated it and the other steadied the rusty black strongbox coming out of the hole. Finally, they had it out, and Whitlock hurried over to throw open the lid. All three men gasped.

  So did Joe. The chest was stacked tight with gold bars. Even tarnished a rusty brown with age, they gleamed with promise. Whitlock reached out a hand, and Joe called out.

  “Get ‘em up, all of you!”

  They whirled in his direction, but only one of Whitlock’s men lifted his hands in the air. The other grabbed for a shovel, and Joe shot it out of his hand. The man howled and held his bleeding wrist against his stomach.

  The distraction gave Whitlock time to draw his gun and get off a shot. Joe’s right forearm burned as the bullet passed through, nicking the same bone he’d broken in the elevator. The force of the bullet flung his gun from his hand. As Whitlock raised his gun for a second shot, a rope sailed over his shoulders and snapped tight, throwing him to the ground. The gun discharged into the air as he landed.

  Ry leapt from Red Devil’s saddle as the big horse sat back on his haunches, keeping the rope taut around Whitlock. The uninjured man grabbed a sledgehammer. Swinging it over his head, he started for Ry. He never made it. Chase’s loop caught him around the ankle, jerking his leg out from under him.

  Joe dismounted and ran over to grab Whitlock’s gun in his left hand, but as he did, the injured man fled into the brush.

  “Destiny and I will get him,” Chase said. While Ry covered the guy on the ground, Chase loosened his rope and flicked it from the man’s ankle. Then he coiled it and headed into the brush after his quarry.

  Joe held the gun while Ry, using his best calf-tying techniques, trussed up Whitlock and his hired hand.

  “How’d you know?” Whitlock cried, his face contorted with fury. “How the hell did you guys know?”

  Joe gazed at him. “We got the word from Clara.”

  “Come on.” Whitlock spat in the dirt. “You don’t believe that claptrap any more than I do.” He glared at his hired hand. “One of you guys talked, didn’t you?”

  “No, but they got a little careless,” Joe said.

  When Ry finished tying both men securely, he turned to Joe. “You’re bleeding pretty bad.”

  “A pressure bandage ought to do it.” Joe glanced down at Whitlock, who was still dressed in the showy Western shirt he’d worn to the rodeo. “Why don’t you tear up Whitlock’s shirt?”

  “It would be a pleasure.”

  “That’s a fifty-dollar shirt!” Whitlock bellowed.

  “Where you’re going, they provide free clothes.” Joe sat down and trained the gun on Whitlock while Ry ripped off the front of his shirt, created a makeshift bandage and bound it to Joe’s arm with strips from the same shirt.

  “Same ol’, same ol’,” Joe said as Ry worked on the bandage. “You realize this is the same damned arm I broke in the elevator. I get hurt every time I’m around you, McGuinnes.”

  “Yeah, but just like I told you in the elevator, Gilardini, I’m also going to make you rich.” Ry tied the last knot and stood just as Chase came trotting in, his prisoner at the end of his lariat.

  “Hog-tie him, Ry,” Chase said, dismounting and coming over to Joe. “How’s the arm?”

  “I’ll make it.”

  Ry finished trussing up the last prisoner and ambled over to stand next to Chase. He pushed back his hat. “Damn, but that was fun.”

  Chase grinned. “Can’t remember when I’ve had a better time with my clothes on.”

  Joe studied his two partners. “For a couple of civilians, you were passable.”

  “Passable?” Ry cried. “We were great! The three of us make a hell of a team.”

  Joe chuckled. �
�Too bad you have such a small ego, McGuinnes.”

  Ry turned to Chase. “Weren’t we great?”

  “I’ll tell you who was great. Destiny. I’m riding that horse from now on. He can move.”

  “Give Red Devil another year and he’ll be almost that good. Give him five years and he’ll—”

  “You’re not talking much like a guy who plans to turn a profit by selling the place,” Joe observed.

  Ry and Chase stared at him.

  “Wasn’t that the idea?” Joe tried to keep a straight face as his two partners grew more and more uncomfortable. “Aw, hell,” Joe said finally, breaking into a smile. “I don’t want to sell, either. You were right, Ry. The place grows on you.”

  “I heard that,” cried Leigh, reining in Mikey and leaping to the ground. “You have a witness.” She ran over to Joe and dropped to her knees beside him. “I would think a man of your experience could avoid getting shot,” she said, her voice husky as she examined the makeshift bandage. “Did it go all the way through?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He drank in the sight of her. Maybe it was the loss of blood affecting his vision, but he could swear she was surrounded by that darned halo of light again. “I was lucky.”

  “Lucky? You got shot!”

  “Any bullet that doesn’t kill you is a lucky bullet,” he said. “The way I figure it, someone was watching over me.”

  She gazed into his eyes and swallowed hard. “Someone was.”

  “Hey, why are you here, anyway?” Joe asked, remembering his last instructions to her. “I thought I told you to stay and take care of Kyle.”

  Freddy rode up and dismounted. “You have a short memory, Joe. Just recently, you announced to the world that Singleton women don’t take kindly to orders.” She unstrapped her first-aid kit from her saddle.

  “Where is Kyle?” Joe asked.

  “With Dexter,” Leigh said, stepping back so Freddy could look at Joe’s wound. She waited anxiously while Freddy checked Joe’s vital signs and examined the bandage. “How bad is it?”