Texas Lonestar (Texas Heroes Book 4)

by Sable Hunter

  “No, Colin. I didn’t just forget,” Lennon said tiredly. “Someone stole over a dozen head of my cattle. I know what I’m doing and I know how to do it. I’ve been running this ranch alone for the past seven years.” Lennon couldn’t have kept the frustration out of her voice if she tried.

  “Well, we both know why you’re alone,” he said snidely. “Don’t go getting your panties in a wad, Ms. Haley. Just because you’re a spinster doesn’t entitle you to demand a man come out to your ranch to investigate some trumped up excuse of a charge.”

  His conceited drawl infuriated Lennon as much as his thoughtless insults did. “Listen, Sheriff. I am not coming on to you. Believe me. You are the sheriff of Hudspeth County. It’s your job to investigate matters like this.” She refused to bring up the fiasco from so long ago, even though he was baiting her to mention it. Lennon knew he would get some type of perverse pleasure if she were to apologize again for something that hadn’t been her fault. This verbal battle was normal for their exchanges since graduation. Neither he nor any of his crowd ever let her forget what had happened so long ago. Colin had been teased unmercifully about her crush, long after Lennon’s infatuation had turned to dust. In retaliation, he directed all of his anger and embarrassment into a venom-laced crusade to make her life miserable.

  Alone in her living room, Lennon sat down, resting her tired head in her hand. Small town living…memories were long and tongues were longer.

  “You don’t have to remind me of my duties, Miss Haley.” Colin snapped at her. “If you want to come down and file a report, I can’t stop you. What I can do is prioritize the work my department is responsible for. And I can tell you now–you are a low priority.”

  Lennon didn’t even bother responding to his rude comment. She just ended the call.

  “He won’t help you?” George had been listening.

  “No, he won’t.”

  “Bastard.”

  Lennon smiled at her friend and mentor. “Language, George. Little ears.” She pointed toward the sunroom where Sally was playing with her dolls.

  “You know what you ought to do?” George whispered, raising a crooked finger in the air. When she looked at him quizzically, he continued. “Contact the TSCRA, they employ Special Rangers to deal with exactly this kind of thing.”

  “Special Rangers, do you mean Texas Rangers?”

  “No, not exactly. They’re retired Rangers, mostly. But, they’ll listen to you.”

  Lennon considered his suggestion. The Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association was the governing body that incorporated all of the ranches in several states. Her father had joined years ago and she still paid the dues. “All right. Good idea. I’ll call them. Frankly, I’d rather deal with a rattlesnake than Colin Ferguson any day.”

  * * *

  Dallas removed his gray Stetson and hung it on the wooden hat rack by his front door. His beautiful lakeside apartment was dark and lonely. With a yawn, he flipped on a light and noticed he’d left the electric fireplace on. Finding the small remote lying on the table next to his recliner, he turned it off, then went to the double patio doors and opened them wide. The night was nice and he could certainly use some fresh air. The last few days on the road had been tedious and then he’d come back to the office with a butt-load of forms to fill out. Paperwork was his least favorite part of the job. Hell, he knew being a Texas Ranger couldn’t mean constant excitement, but that was exactly what he lived for.

  He sure as hell didn’t have anything else in his life.

  Crossing to the small kitchen, he opened one door of the side by side refrigerator and took out a locally brewed beer. Several containers of spoiled Chinese food greeted him with a less than savory odor. Turning up his nose, he slammed the door. He’d deal with that mess a little later. Right now, Dallas just needed to put his feet up and rest. The last few weeks he’d been dealing with a stand-off between the Bureau of Land Management and some homegrown terrorists who’d allied themselves with an old Texas rancher in a controversy over what they viewed as an illegal seizing of private land by the federal government. Even after the hostages had been released, he’d had to deal with the aftermath. Building a case to punish the radicals responsible and trying to convince the state authorities that the rancher had no intention for things to get so out of hand was not easy. Having Governor Kyle Chancellor at his back had helped, but the feds and the state of Texas didn’t always see eye to eye. Texas was the only state in the union with secession rights and they never let anyone forget it.

  Grabbing the black remote, he turned on the flat-screen TV and settled down in his beloved recliner to watch the local news. The drone of the TV mixed with the hum of the appliances and soon he was nodding off to sleep. The best he could hope for was not to dream. Unpleasant thoughts woke him up and now he just lay there wondering what the hell had happened to his life. He was dead tired, his body protesting the lack of sleep and the lack of sexual release. For about the space of two seconds, Dallas considered calling Sonia and inviting her over or going to her place for some quick sex. His obvious lack of motivation stemmed from sheer boredom. Sonia Enfield was a nice enough lady, very pretty and a damn good lawyer. She loved to hang out at his place, more to be in his apartment, he thought, than any pleasure she took from spending time with him. Dallas smiled. He understood, his apartment was a rare find. Sonia always said that if he ever decided to move, she wanted first dibs at his apartment. Other than his incredible view of Lake Austin, she had no more interest in anything long term or meaningful relationship-wise than he did.

  So, what was the problem? Hell, if he knew. At the moment, he just didn’t want sex bad enough to move. But the longer he sat there, the more the familiar round of thoughts began to plague his mind…

  If Carly hadn’t found the box, if she hadn’t gone to Houston, if she’d wanted their baby...if he’d been worthy of her love…if…if…

  An endless sea of if’s and none of them meant a damn thing in the long run. All Dallas had now, that meant anything to him, was work. He could work hard, succeed, see the fruits of his labors–that was all that mattered. Because work was all he had.

  Draining the beer can, he considered getting up and fetching another one. But that would require movement and right now, it was just too much to ask of his tired body. Maybe he’d just sleep out here tonight in the recliner, in front of the TV. Beds just reminded him of what was missing in his life,

  Buzz! Buzz!

  Dallas eyed his cell phone with distaste. Who would be calling so late? Picking it up he squinted an eye to read the name in the dimming light. Ah, an old friend, Hiram Glover. Dallas couldn’t help but smile. Hiram had been his mentor when he first became a DPS officer. When he’d decided to try out for the Rangers, Hiram had encouraged him. The old man had retired a few years ago and now served as a ‘special ranger’, ready to be called up if the need be, serving in capacities where a ranger’s know-how was invaluable. Dallas liked to think of the unit as being akin to the National Guard on a state level. “McClain. Hiram, is that you?”

  “Hello, Dallas, it’s good to hear your voice.”

  “It’s good to hear yours. How’s Marge?” Dallas settled back, a smile coming to his face. He could still remember the day Hiram had ‘initiated’ him into the Rangers, the crank call where he’d been sent out on a drug bust only to find himself in the midst of a party in his honor, complete with a scantily clad, well-endowed dancer hopping out of a big round cake with the Texas lone star emblazoned on the top layer in chocolate icing. The sight had made Dallas distinctly uncomfortable, wondering if the woman who jumped out of the cake had a little boy waiting for her at home. The fact that he’d never said a word about the incident went without saying.

  “Well, that’s what I called you about, Dallas. Marge isn’t doing too well.”

  “What do you mean?” His friend’s voice sounded weak, not the usual strong baritone he was used to hearing. “Is something wrong?”

  “Mar
ge had a light stroke. High blood pressure. I’m having to stay fairly close to home these days.”

  Dallas sat upright, lowering his booted feet to the floor and leaning forward. “Is there something I can do? You know you only have to ask.”

  “Well, there is, if you have time.” Dallas could hear Marge’s voice in the background, telling him that Dallas was too busy, not to bother him, that she didn’t mind being left alone.

  “I’m in between cases right now. There’s been a body discovered in a deep gorge in East Texas that I need to check on soon, but there’s no rush for him. He’s been there a decade or two at least. So, tell me what’s up.”

  Hiram cleared his throat as if relieved. “I got a call from the TSCRS. There’s a woman rancher over near El Paso in Hudspeth County who thinks a cattle rustler has taken about a dozen or so head of her cattle. Funny thing is, she’s also reporting vandalism to her property.

  “What does the local Sheriff have to say about it?” Dallas was familiar with standard operating procedures.

  “Well, as far as I can tell, the Sheriff’s a prick.”

  “You don’t say. How’s that?” Dallas mused. Hiram’s reaction surprised and puzzled him.

  “I called him as a courtesy and to get his opinion and he just laughed the whole situation off. He says the woman has a reputation for exaggerating things. How he acted bothered me, because he talked about her with so little respect. Dallas, I knew her Daddy. Richard Haley was a damn good man and if this is the daughter I remember meeting, she was a little go-getter even then. I can recall her steering the tractor sitting on a big fluffy pillow to reach the steering wheel with wooden blocks fixed on the floor controls so her legs would be long enough to touch the pedals.”

  Dallas could easily see the image Hiram painted with his description. “So, you think her complaint may be legit?”

  “I do think it’s legit, yes. You know, I was looking at the 2014 statistics and we had 726 cases in Texas. Those 726 cases involved over 5000 head of cattle stolen, at a value of almost five million dollars. This woman could very well be telling the truth. I don’t want to dismiss her out of hand like Ferguson wants to, so I’d appreciate if you’d drive over to Hudspeth County and pay her a little visit.”

  Dallas’s mind was already working. He was looking at the map app on his phone. “Where did you say she was located?”

  “Hudspeth County, north west of Big Bend Country. Apache Springs is out in the middle of nowhere. El Paso is a good hour east and Sierra Blanca is about an hour north of the ranch. If you have to stay any length of time, I’m sure she’d put you up. There used to be a nice lodge on the property, as best I can remember.”

  “I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.” Dallas muttered, he’d much rather be in a motel, if possible. “Let me check in with the office and let them know what’s going on. As a courtesy, I’ll stop in and pay a visit to Sheriff Ferguson before I head over to Apache Springs.”

  Hiram let out a relieved sigh. “Thanks, son. I owe you one.”

  “No, you don’t owe me anything,” Dallas reassured him. “I’ll be glad to take care of this. Don’t worry. You just take care of Marge.”

  The next day found Dallas on the road to West Texas. He’d driven through Wimberley and stopped to visit his Fire Chief, Titan Sloan, for a few minutes. When he was in town for a good spell, he always answered calls to fight fires with his unit. He’d been on the call when Titan’s wife, Makenna, had almost been killed by her abusive ex-husband. If things ever settled down again, he looked forward to being more active in the Volunteer Fire Department.

  As his personal truck ate up the miles, Dallas let his mind wander. How different his dreams were now compared to what they’d been when he first married Carly. He’d been determined to work hard, save money and buy a spread of his own. Giving up the desire to own a little piece of Texas was difficult. But without a family, there really was no reason for those types of aspirations. The lessons he’d learned so painfully had taught him well. He was much better off alone.

  The farther west he traveled, the more the landscape changed in front of his eyes. By the time he reached Sierra Blanca, he could easily imagine he was on the set of a Spaghetti Western. Looking at the stark vista before him, the jutting mountain peaks and the surrounding desert – he knew this was what most people pictured when they thought of Texas. It never crossed their mind the state also contained flat prairies, dense pine forests and a gulf coast shoreline.

  Easing into the two-horse town, Dallas parked in front of the small brick law enforcement office. Getting out slowly, he took a moment to stretch his legs. This was the type of town where they rolled up the sidewalks at five-thirty, if there were sidewalks to roll up. A cloud of dust blew down Main Street causing a beer bottle to roll and clank on the hot asphalt in front of him. The calendar might read spring, but the thermometer begged to differ.

  At the tattered front door, two old men sat drinking coffee and chewing tobacco. Dallas grimaced, he didn’t know how they could combine those two activities without choking to death. Lifting his gray Stetson, he greeted them as he passed by. “Good day, gentlemen. How are you?”

  “Fair to middlin’,” one replied and Dallas nodded his understanding. The screen door creaked and inside a warped brown ceiling fan whipped the dust around. A rotund deputy sat with his feet on his desk and another’s head was buried in an ancient green filing cabinet.

  “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 su
re you know Rooster Daniels, one of the richest men in the country. He owns a lot of land around here, and has provided a shit-load 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 they 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. There were horses grazing in one field and chickens pecking in the dirt under a scrub oak.