by Susan Stoker
“Is Sheriff Ferguson in?”
The one at the desk, whose nameplate said HOWARD KEEL, pointed to an office to the left and called out. “Colin! There’s a Ranger here to see you!” Both deputies came ambling toward him. “Man, we haven’t seen a Ranger in these parts in a while. What’s going on?”
Before he could answer, a man strolled out from the side office with his thumbs hooked in his belt. He reminded Dallas of a young Gary Busey. “A Ranger, huh? What did we do?” He smiled and reached for Dallas’s hand.
Dallas shook hands with all of them. “I’m here by request of Special Agent Hiram Glover. He wanted me to check in on the Haley case.”
“The Haley case?” Ferguson laughed. “There is no Haley case. You don’t know this woman like I do. She’s a little hard up, if you know what I mean.” He winked at Dallas. “Any ploy she can use to get a man across her cattle guard, she’ll do it.”
Dallas didn’t respond, but he did see how the other two deputies looked at one another with an uncomfortable expression. He wasn’t sure if their disapproval was for the woman in question or the sheriff himself. “Is there any specific information you can give me?”
“Nah, I didn’t go out there. I told her I had real sherrifin’ business to tend to.”
Dallas nodded as if he understood. In reality, the guy was beginning to get on his nerves. “Well, this is just a courtesy call so you’ll know I’m investigating in your precinct. If I find there’s a matter for concern, I’ll let you know. If not, I’ll just head back the way I came.”
“I won’t expect to hear from you, then.” Ferguson said, with a bit of edge in his voice.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay and have some coffee?” One of the deputies offered, as if trying to diffuse the situation.
Dallas saw no reason to linger. “I appreciate it, but I’m going to stop by the Dairy Queen on my way out of town.”
“I’ll take some coffee, boys. I’m always thirsty!” A booming voice drew their attention.
“Rooster! Good to see you!” The Sheriff almost ran to meet the man who sauntered in, dressed in a cream colored linen suit, the kind Dallas always associated with drug lords from tropical countries. “What can I do for you, Sir?”
“I’m here to see if one of your men would like to make some extra money. I need some guard duty over at the excavation site.”
They kept talking while Dallas tried to place the smartly dressed man in his mind. He did look familiar. He didn’t have to think long, the Sheriff called Dallas over. “Ranger McClain, I’m sure you know Rooster Daniels, one of the richest men in the country. He owns a lot of land around here, and has provided a lot of jobs to our county. We owe him, big time.” Colin Ferguson beamed as he relayed the information.
“One-riot, one-ranger. Isn’t that what that say?” Rooster Daniels offered his hand to Dallas.
“Yes, sir, that’s what they say all right.” Now, he remembered. Rooster Daniels. Loud-mouthed, colorful, billionaire entrepreneur. Yes, Dallas knew of him and he wasn’t impressed. “Nice to meet you. I’ll be going, I’ve got places to be.”
“Good luck, McClain. You’re gonna need it, I’m afraid,” Colin said with a laugh before returning his attention to Daniels.
Dallas tipped his hat and took his leave, heading to the burger joint so he could use the bathroom and get a milkshake. He loved chocolate milkshakes, they were one of his weaknesses.
After he’d quenched his thirst and appeased his sweet tooth, the last thirty miles went by fast. Just before he made the last turn-off, he realized he hadn’t made reservations for a motel room. Even if he found the Sheriff was right and there was no reason for him to investigate, he wouldn’t be able to drive back to Austin tonight. It was a damn eight-hour trip.
As Dallas drove under the gate, he admired the artwork overhead. A wrought iron depiction of mountains and two Native American chiefs on horseback graced the entrance sign. He was no stranger to ranches and this looked like the real deal. Once upon a time, Apache Springs might have been a showplace. There were several outbuildings other than the barn and a rambling stucco and stone house. He could see cattle in the distance and, if he wasn’t mistaken, some sheep in the distance. There were horses grazing in one field and chickens pecking in the dirt under a scrub oak.
Coming to a stop, he parked his truck near the entrance to the house. Seeing no one in sight, he climbed from his vehicle and shut the door. Just as he did, Dallas heard an odd squealing and a high-pitched giggle. Looking up, he saw a tiny pink pig running right toward him followed by a little girl with a cloud of blond hair radiating from her head in bouncy curls. He started to sidestep them, but the pig ran between his legs and the little girl barreled into him, grabbing his legs to steady herself. “Hey, easy.” He grasped the tiny child’s shoulders to keep her from falling backwards, then frowned when he saw two hand prints on his freshly laundered jeans, perfectly outlined in peanut butter and dotted with jelly. “Good grief,” he muttered.
“I saw-we, Mr. Man.” She dabbed at his pants and smeared them all the more.
Dallas grabbed her little wrists to stay them and then realized he was now adorned with peanut butter also. “Criminy, look at us.”
The little angel got the giggles and he couldn’t help but smile. “Where’s your Mommy?”
His question brought a frown to the Shirley Temple lookalike. “I live wiff Lenny since I was borned. She needs me.”
“Ah.” He tried to read between the lines, but…the peanut butter made everything a little sticky–including his thoughts. “Well, where’s Lenny, or is it Mrs. Haley?”
“Lenny’s in de barn with George. She needs him too.” After gifting him with that modicum amount of information, the little sprite took off after the baby pig who seemed to be waiting to continue the chase.
He held his hands out, bent to survey the mess on his pants and sighed. A nearby water faucet drew him. Dallas found the end of the water hose and managed to wash off most of the P-B and J. “Great, now I look like I’ve pissed myself,” he grumbled.
When he was as clean as he could manage, he resumed his journey to the barn that used to be painted apple red. Now, streaks of gray bled through the red. The closer he drew, the more he wondered what was going on. He could hear a man’s voice speaking. “You’re going to fall and break that pretty neck of yours. Why don’t you wait until we can get someone out here to help you?”
“You know we can’t afford help. Don’t worry. I’ve almost got it. Hand me one more board.”
Dallas walked in just in time to see a small woman reaching down to grab the end of a piece of lumber held aloft by a frail old gentleman. “Got it?”
“Yea.” She tugged it to her, lined it up, then began to hammer the board in place. “Just a few more nails and the loft will be repaired.” Lennon pushed her hair over her shoulder and finished the arduous chore.
“Excuse me.”
The last blow of her hammer had barely sounded when the strange voice drew her attention. Lennon raised her head and almost lost her balance. There was a strange man in her barn. A very good-looking, strange man. She blinked twice. Arrow, starring Stephen Amell, was one of her favorite shows and this guy could pass for his twin–oh, my God! “Hello!” She answered brightly. “I’ll be right down. George, please see to our guest.”
Dallas could hear her voice, but he couldn’t see the woman clearly. Despite his irritation with Ferguson, the information he’d conveyed about this woman came to mind. The older gentleman slowly managed to turn around and make eye contact with him. “Where’d you come from, young feller?”
Stepping closer, Dallas extended his hand. He tried to remember what Hiram had said about the woman’s father. Had his name been George? “I’m a Texas Ranger, Dallas McClain. Are you Mr. Haley?”
George leaned close enough to hear Dallas speak. “Ranger, you say? No. There is no Mr. Haley. Richard’s dead and Lennon’s not married. I’m George Morgan. I used to be a ne
ighbor until I got old. I live here with Lennon now. She needs me.” He eyed Dallas suspiciously. “Did you have an accident in your pants?”
“I ran into a little girl chasing a pig,” he said dryly. “Peanut butter and jelly seemed to be on the menu.”
Hearing what the Ranger said, Lennon hurried down. “I’m so sorry. Did she ruin your clothes? I’ll be glad to pay for them.” She wiped her palms on the back of her jeans, then offered him one in greeting. “The pig is new. Sally’s excited. I’m Lennon Haley.” Up close he was even more handsome–and big.
He took her small hand for a moment, pressing it gently between his fingers. “Dallas McClain,” he repeated. “I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.” The woman before him was slight, a study in shades of brown. He couldn’t tell much about her shape; the clothes she wore weren’t form fitting at all. She had a gamine face with huge eyes and full lips. Her hair was caught back in a braid that hung to the middle of her back. “Can we talk, Ms. Haley?
“Of course.” Lennon let her eyes rove down his body, centering on his wet thighs–and what lay just above them. He cleared his throat and she jerked her eyes up, realizing he’d caught her staring. Her whole face flamed. “Did you say you’re a Texas Ranger?”
Dallas touched the Lone Star badge on his belt. Becoming a Ranger had given him a chance at something he’d never had before–respectability and honor. “Yes. My friend, Special Agent Hiram Glover, contacted me to come and check on the problem you seem to be having. You think there’s cattle missing from your herd?”
“Uh…” The man had her absolutely tongue tied. “Yes,” she finally managed to say. Lennon glanced at George for encouragement. “Why don’t we go into the house and get something to drink and I’ll be glad to explain everything and answer any questions you might have.”
“You two go ahead, I’ll be in shortly.” The older man waved them on. “I’ll gather up Sally and the piglet. Put on a pot of coffee for me, Len.”
“Okay, I will,” she agreed, making her way from the barn toward the house. She was ultra-aware the man followed along behind her “Come on in, Ranger McClain. I have to tell you that I’m a bit shocked. I really didn’t expect anyone to show up to talk to me.”
“Why? Was your report falsified?” he asked bluntly. Had she been ‘crying wolf’ as the old fable told. Dallas followed her up the stone steps to the porch, which had seen better days. Everything seemed to need a good coat of paint. He heard Ms. Haley let out a long sigh.
“No. I didn’t falsify anything. You’ve been speaking to Sheriff Ferguson, haven’t you?” Lennon didn’t wait for an answer. “Have a seat, please. I’ll be back in just a moment. While the coffee makes would you care for lemonade or sweet tea? Maybe a soda?” she inquired politely, minding her manners. There was no use being rude to this man just because Colin Ferguson was an ass.
“Lemonade sounds good.” He needed something to take the chocolate taste out of his mouth. While he waited, seated in a chintz armchair facing an arched entryway into what appeared to be a formal dining room, he let his eyes wander around the room. Everything was clean, a bit strewn, but a young child would explain the clutter. A doll, books, crayons and a Candyland game vied for space next to the stone fireplace. An older model television sat on a wooden stand flanked by two tall bookshelves jammed packed with books. Most of them seemed to be paperbacks–romance novels probably. Dallas couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. Perhaps Ferguson was on to something.
On the wall in front of him was a framed tapestry. Dallas narrowed his eyes to read it in the glare of the afternoon sun filtering through the plastic blinds. At first, the writing was hard to read, an embroidered script. As his eyes became accustomed to the lighting, he could see it was most unusual. The largest words were Lessons of Love. The rest of it was an embroidered spiral of the scriptures from the thirteenth chapter of the Biblical Book of Corinthians, detailing the qualities of love. Dallas pressed his lips together tightly–refusing to finish reading the words. He no longer had any use for the emotion called love.
“Here you go.” Lennon brought the pink toned glass and held it out to her guest. “The coffee will be done in a moment, Ranger McClain.”
“Thank-you.” He accepted her offering and drank deeply, waiting for her to light somewhere. She seemed nervous and he considered the possible reasons. Was he the cause? Was it because he was a man or because he was a Ranger? Neither possibility sat well with him. He’d known of ranchers concocting stories of stolen cattle to take advantage of insurance claims. Dallas wasn’t an expert, but Apache Springs didn’t have the look of a successful operation. Of course, that didn’t mean she was lying. Remembering what Hiram had said, Dallas decided to give Lennon Haley the benefit of the doubt. “Why don’t you have a seat, Ms. Haley?”
“Okay,” Lennon answered. She felt funny, being invited to sit down in her own home. Lennon didn’t know why she was so nervous. There was a reason for this man to be here. She had called in the complaint herself–she just hadn’t expected to be visited by someone who’d give her nighttime fantasies a face. Choosing a straight-back chair located a few feet away from him, she sat primly on the edge of the seat. As if his eyes were mirrors, she became conscious of her appearance–of how he would see her. In the infinitesimal amount of time it took for her to get her bearings, her complete lack of qualities necessary to attract a man like him became painfully obvious. Her clothes were functional and sexless. Her body was practically the same–functional and more tomboyish than sexy. “I have been having problems,” she offered lamely, thoroughly cowed down by her own thoughts.
“Hiram didn’t tell me much, ma’am. Why don’t you fill me in on the details?”
Ranger McClain took out his wallet and opened it up and Lennon could see it contained a silver pen and a small notepad. His hands were fascinating–big, broad, with heavy veins on top. Lennon wondered what it would feel like to be touched by him. Chill bumps bloomed on her skin, causing her to shiver.
“Lennon? Ms. Haley?”
She jumped a bit, his masculine voice bringing her out of the erotic daze she’d been in. “Sorry, I was wool-gathering.” Her own excuse made her smile–fitting, since she raised sheep.
A bolt of awareness shot through Dallas like a bullet. Her smile completely transformed her face–giving it life, making her brown eyes sparkle with gold. He realized they were not really brown at all, but a rich deep amber. She reminded him a bit of one of his favorite actresses, the dark haired girl who played Rachel on the television show called Suits. What was her name? Meghan. Yes, Lennon resembled Meghan. Just not nearly as sexy. “Explain to me the problems you’ve been experiencing.” He said nothing to lead her on, he needed to hear it all in her own words. Throughout his time with the Rangers, Dallas had learned to read people’s expressions and mannerisms fairly well. He prided himself on knowing when they were lying.
“All right.” Lennon clasped her hands together, wishing they were softer and that her nails were painted a pretty color. “Several things have been happening and I’m not even sure they’re related, to tell you the truth. The first thing I noticed was the mailbox. Someone shot it several times until it came off the post.”
Dallas made a note. “Could’ve been kids – teenagers.”
“I’m aware it could be, yes. Someone also put sugar in the gas tank of my tractor and cut the waterlines between the house and the outbuildings. Those things were bad enough, more than a nuisance, really. But a few days ago we realized over a dozen head of our Beefmasters and Angus are missing. I found a place where a gap has been cut in the fence with wire-cutters and I found evidence of tire tracks.”
“I’ll want to check all of this out, personally,” he said without looking up.
“Of course.” Lennon wanted him to. “You’ll be welcome.”
“Can you give me a detailed description of the cattle that are missing?”
“Yes.” Lennon rose on unsteady feet and went to her desk. “I�
��ve already made a list.” She handed the paper to him. “If you need any more information, I’ll be glad to get it for you.”
Dallas scanned the list she’d made. Description, age, weight, date purchased, where and from whom purchased, or if they were born at Apache Springs. All of this information was noted in a small, feminine hand-writing. Hell, she even had them named, he noticed. Brenda, Melissa, Mr. T., Darlise… Good grief. “This looks sufficient. What about the Apache Springs brand? Do you have one?”
“Oh, yes, of course.” She took another piece of paper, found a pen and drew a picture of the Bar H brand. “Here, you go.”
Dallas took the paper, then checked his pocket watch for the time. “Can you show me around now before it gets any later?”
“Well, the coffee’s done.” She could smell it. “Could you share a cup with George while I make dinner? Sally will be hungry and you’re more than welcome to join us. I put four racks of ribs in the slow cooker this morning. All I need to do is whip up some mashed potatoes and make a salad. After we eat, we could check things out. It won’t get dark until eight-thirty.” When he looked a bit skeptical, she hastily added. “Sally needs to eat, she’ll go to bed early.”
Dallas nodded. He understood. “That’ll be fine.” Even though he’d never gotten the chance to raise his own child, he could sympathize. Hesitating, Dallas considered his options. He didn’t really want to sit down to a meal with this odd group. On the other hand, he was hungry. “The meal sounds great. Thank-you. I think I already know the answer to this, but is there a motel close by?”
“There’s one back in Sierra Blanca, but that’s thirty miles.” She pointed to her left. “I wish I had an extra room, but I don’t. There’s the couch…but you’re way too big for it.” Her face brightened. “I know. I’ve been cleaning out the lodge and the bathhouse. It’s not completed yet, but the bedrooms are habitable. I could make up one of the beds for you. There’s also one of those old-fashioned window water coolers to stave off the heat. You could stay there.”
