Texas Lawman

by Ginger Chambers

  She forced the thought away. There simply wasn’t time at present to search for an explanation. The Hammonds could be here any moment.

  She took a bracing breath and stepped back into the hall. Mae would want to know that she’d accomplished her mission.

  CHAPTER NINE

  JODIE SAT ON PINS and needles all evening, desperate to talk privately with Tate, but the opportunity never presented itself. Finally, at midnight, the watch was called off until morning, and she had no other option but to go home with her father, who’d eventually joined the gathering.

  “You coulda knocked me over with a feather when I found all of you at Mae’s,” Gib said with a chuckle as they walked down the long driveway to their house. “I thought I’d missed a command performance or somethin’. I thought, Uh-oh, Mae’s gonna have my hide! Then it turns out to be more stuff about Rio.” He gave Jodie a considering look. “You okay with that?”

  Jodie shrugged. There wasn’t much about any of this she was truly okay with. “I’m fine,” she fibbed, then changed the subject, “Where were you earlier? Off painting?”

  He opened the screen door to their house, switched on the overhead light and saw her inside. “Mmm. That and thinkin’. Here, I have somethin’ to show you.” He moved past her to retrieve an envelope from a side table.

  “What is it?” Jodie asked.

  “It came in yesterday’s mail. Read it,” he said.

  Jodie did as he instructed, then looked up, smiling. For a moment she was able to slip free from the worry that had gripped her all evening. “They want you to show some of your work? At a cowboy-art exhibition? Dad, that’s wonderful! You must be so excited.”

  He nodded diffidently.

  “You’re going to do it, right? I mean, you wouldn’t refuse, would you?” From her father’s body language she could see he was considering doing just that. “Oh, Dad, don’t! You’re good. Really good. People have nothing but praise for your work—when you let them see it. Didn’t you have some paintings on display in San Antonio early this year? And weren’t they a success? You wrote me about it, remember?”

  “That was just a little gallery,” he said uncomfortably. “Friend of a friend, that kinda thing.”

  “Daddy!”

  He continued to look uncomfortable as he folded the letter back into the envelope and returned it to the table. “Well. that’s what I was thinkin’ about most of the day—whether to do it or not.” He cocked his head. “You really think I should? It’s a big show. Lots of big names. I’ll probably get lost in it.”

  “Your work is good, Daddy. It’ll stand on its own, proudly. I’m not just saying that, either. I’d tell you that even if you weren’t my father.”

  “Wonder what Mae’ll say if I do,” he mused.

  “For once, don’t care,” Jodie advised, seemingly flippant, yet actually serious.

  Gib nodded, but Jodie knew he was only agreeing to consider what she’d said, not necessarily to act on it.

  JODIE COULDN’T WAIT. She had to talk to Tate. If someone saw her sneaking back over to Mae’s house, they’d just have to wonder at the cause. She doubted that either Rafe or Morgan, who was staying the night at Rafe’s place, would get much sleep. They’d probably stay dressed and in chairs near the front door, their ears fixed for any unusual sounds. Now would be as good a time as any for her to seek out Tate.

  Jodie slipped into her lightweight jacket and left the house, her stomach doing its usual flip-flops the closer she got to Mae’s. What she was planning to do could get her into a lot of trouble, not to mention make everyone in her family angry if they found out.

  She swallowed as she started up the porch steps, her gaze fastened on the front door. She doubted Mae had locked it—she seldom did. Jodie was just about to test it when a hand clamped down firmly on her shoulder.

  “Jodie?”

  Tate! He wasn’t inside the house as she’d expected or as Mae had directed. Instead, he’d camped out on the front porch, evidenced by the light blanket thrown hastily across the arm of one of the high-backed chairs when he’d gotten up.

  Tate was the person Jodie had come to see, yet she was hesitant to face him. Everything about him stirred her senses, even his voice. She’d met many handsome men over the years, had even dallied with a few. But not one had affected her this way. Made her feel instantly—

  “Jodie?” he said again.

  She quickly collected herself. “You startled me!” she exclaimed, taking care to keep her voice low.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice as hushed as hers. “Sleepwalking?”

  Jodie decided not to prevaricate. “No. I...I need to talk with you.”

  “What about? It couldn’t wait? Or you couldn’t have said it earlier?”

  She shook her head.

  He glanced at the door, then at the chair next to his. “Where?” he asked. “Inside or out?”

  Jodie thought of Mae. Better to keep this outside. She gestured at the chairs. “Over there.”

  They both sat, but he seemed determined not to relax with her or to put her at ease. “Okay, what’s up?” he said.

  Jodie had prepared what she was going to say and how she was going to say it. But now that the moment had arrived, it was far more difficult than she’d imagined. The words she’d rehearsed in her head evaporated, and she was left to pull the story together as best she could. “I... I think you all should be very careful with the Hammonds.”

  “And why do you say that?” His face didn’t give anything away, but Jodie had the impression she’d surprised him.

  “Because...I’ve heard they’re bad people.”

  He moved slightly. “What do you mean by ‘bad’?”

  “They hurt people when they don’t get their way.”

  “Where did you hear that?” he asked.

  “Just...from someone.”

  “Someone who knows them? And who might that be? I didn’t think anyone around here knew the Hammonds. If they do, why haven’t they said something to me?”

  The barrage of questions increased Jodie’s nervousness. To combat it, she dug deep inside herself for a little of the Parker hauteur. “Does it matter who told me?” she snapped.

  “It might,” he shot back, and waited.

  Jodie stood up. This wasn’t going the way she’d wanted. They were already off on the wrong foot.

  His fingers curled lightly around her arm. “You know something, don’t you? What is it?”

  He was perceptive. Too perceptive. She wanted to break loose and fly away. Why had she ever agreed to help Rio? Especially, as Mae so often reminded, after the way he’d treated her? She must have been temporarily insane. Tate was going to figure it out before she could say anything, and then she’d be the one moldering away in jail, while Rio, after three days, would be off to Mexico and freedom.

  She tugged at her arm, trying to gain release. “Just forget I ever came back. I’m sorry I bothered you. I only thought—”

  His grip tightened. “Tell me.”

  There was very little light that night. Some high clouds had veiled the moon and the stars. Still, she could see he was watching her levelly, intently. “What...What if I don’t?” she breathed.

  Even the chirping crickets stilled. Not a muscle moved in Tate’s face, not an eyelid quivered. Finally he bit out, “Who?”

  “Rio,” she choked out. “I wanted him to tell you himself. I told him he should. But he thinks that all sheriffs are alike, that he won’t have a fair chance to tell his side of the story. He didn’t do it, Tate! He was somewhere else when it happened, playing cards with—”

  He let go of her arm so suddenly she nearly lost her balance.

  “If I had a dime for every criminal who claimed he didn’t do what he’s accused of, I’d be a rich man! And you fell for it!”

  “I didn’t fall for anything. I believe him!”

  “Why? Because you used to sleep with him? Or because you still do?”

  Jod
ie gasped. She hadn’t expected his attack to be so personal. “No! I believe him because—”

  Rafe’s front door jerked open and he stepped off his porch, his long lithe body tense. Morgan was right behind him. They’d heard their raised voices. “What’s goin’ on?” Rafe called.

  “Nothing,” Tate said. “Jodie and I are havin’ a little talk, is all.”

  “Jodie?” Rafe repeated, surprised. “What’s Jodie—” Morgan put a hand on his friend’s shoulder and said something close to his ear. Rafe looked at Morgan hard, then his tension drained away. “Morgan says we need to stay out of this. So...night, folks.” The two of them disappeared back inside.

  Jodie took several deep breaths. Something else she’d have to deal with in the future!

  Tate turned back to her. “Go on,” he said tightly. “Why do you believe him?”

  Jodie wished she’d never started this. Not any of it. When Rio had left his coin outside her window to summon her, she should have ignored it. And today she should have let him run away. Not stop him, not offer to continue to help. Then she thought of the girl. Of Crystal Hammond. Someone had murdered her and the child she was carrying. If it wasn’t Rio, it was someone else. Someone who shouldn’t be allowed to get off scot-free because law enforcement’s attention was directed at the wrong man.

  Jodie straightened her shoulders. “He says he was playing cards with four other cowboys that night—all night But he only knows one of them. A man named Joe-Bob, who’s supposed to be working on a ranch somewhere in West Texas. The others are friends of this Joe-Bob. So it’s Joe-Bob we have to find.”

  “We?” Tate said sharply.

  “You’re the only person who can help us, Tate! I’ve already called all the ranchers who belong to the regional association. None of them admit to having hired this Joe-Bob. But I have no way of knowing if they’re telling the truth or how to contact the other ranches—the ones not in the association. You do.”

  “What’s this Joe-Bob’s last name?” Tate asked.

  “Rio doesn’t know,” she said simply. She knew this was a weakness in her argument.

  “Was it his baby?” he asked suddenly.

  “He says it was.”

  “That must’ve hurt.”

  Jodie had had enough of his baiting. She flared, “Look, I’m not doing this because of what once happened between Rio and me. He...I—”

  Tate broke in. “You’re just doin’ it out of the goodness of your heart.”

  “Actually? Yes, I am. I don’t think it’s fair that he—”

  Tate moved with the speed of a big cat, his strong lean body pressing against hers while his arms took her captive. “And I don’t think it’s fair that you’re wastin’ your time on someone like that. Jodie, wake up! The man’s probably a murderer, and the story he’s told you is just that—a story.”

  Jodie struggled to break away.

  “That’s what he’s countin’ on,” Tate continued. “Tricking you again. Can’t you see?”

  They continued to grapple. Then something in the intimacy of the moment caused the atmosphere to shift. Tate seemed to lose touch with the need to explain the behavior of people outside the law, just as Jodie no longer responded to the need to escape.

  One look into his glittering eyes and her breath caught.

  Slowly his fingers threaded into her hair. He seemed fascinated by the way stray moonbeams gave a milky wash to the copper-and-red strands.

  All she wanted was for him to kiss her. She ached for him to kiss her.

  She didn’t wait. She caught his face in both hands and pulled his mouth to hers.

  An electric charge arced between them. The sweetness, the fire, the first fierce urgings of desperate need. It was a powerful combination. Jodie had never felt desire in this same way before. In comparison, everything else had been child’s play. Tate created feelings in her that frightened her at the same time as they thrilled her.

  When she tried to draw away, he wouldn’t let go. His arms engulfed her, his mouth devoured hers...until she was shaken completely to her core.

  “Tate,” she murmured brokenly. “Tate.”

  Something, a semblance of memory, must have pierced his thoughts when she said his name. He lifted his head to look at her, looked at where they were, and his body stiffened. But even then he seemed reluctant to let her go.

  Jodie pushed away and steadied herself. What had happened between them was a shock—the fantasies in her mind played out in real time! She smoothed her hair and settled her clothing into place, trying to think what to say next.

  Tate must have been going through a similar introspection. He cleared his throat as he tucked the loosened tail of his uniform shirt into the back of his pants. “Um...Jodie...”

  She shrugged, her cheeks hot. Always before in this kind of situation she’d been sure to keep the upper hand. Now she didn’t know where the upper hand was, much less who could claim it.

  Tate insisted on having his say. “I didn’t intend for that to happen.”

  An awkward moment passed.

  Then, “If you know where he is, Jodie, you have to tell me.”

  “No.”

  “I could charge you with aiding and abetting.”

  “But you won’t.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “No,” he said, “I won’t.”

  “He needs your help, Tate. He’s afraid of the sheriff in Colorado. Afraid he’ll hand him over to the Hammonds, then look the other way.” She stepped closer to him again, drawn. She rested her hand lightly on his arm. “I told him you’re not like that. That you’ll listen to reason. That you’ll help.” She paused. “That you’ll at least check out his story.”

  The instant she’d edged closer to him Tate’s body tensed. Was he afraid to trust himself near her again? Jodie was secretly delighted. She moved even closer and caught the lightest scent of sandalwood left over from his morning shave. What would it be like to be with him in the morning, she wondered, to watch as he went through his usual routine? Showering, shaving—

  His arm jerked away.

  Undeterred, she smiled softly and touched his badge. “This means something to you. You don’t want to see the wrong man pay for what he didn’t do. I’ll tell you everything Rio told me. Word for word. Then you can see what you think. Is that a deal?”

  She was aware of his quickened breaths and the growing heat of his gaze. She was tweaking the lion’s tail and enjoying it. So far.

  “Why are you doing this?” he asked huskily. “Because you still love him?”

  “Because I think he’s innocent!”

  “You’re taking a big risk, then.”

  Seconds passed.

  Finally Tate relented. “All right. Tell me what you know. But from over there.” He pointed toward the chairs.

  Jodie gave an impish grin. “Why? Is somethin’ botherin’ you, Mr. Sheriff?”

  “You know damn well what’s botherin’ me! Now if you want my help...”

  Jodie slipped into the chair she’d used earlier and repeated, seriously, everything she knew about Rio’s alibi.

  THE HAMMONDS arrived early the next morning. When their pickup truck slid to a stop only inches behind Tate’s patrol car, it sprayed gravel and dust all the way to the porch, where the lineup of Parker men, Mae and Tate waited. Not an hour before, Tate had received word that the Hammonds were in town and on their way.

  Jodie had been told to remain in the house, but when no one was looking, she’d slipped outside, staying in the background behind the others.

  The father and two sons bailed out of the truck. All three were big and burly, with heavy shoulders and heads of thick curly dark hair. The father wore a full beard that was graying, while the brothers, in their midthirties, had several days’ growth of stubble. One brother, probably the older, shared the same rough features as his father. The younger had a softer rounder face. None looked the least bit friendly.

  The father was the first to speak. “I wanna talk t
o the man in charge,” he said curtly.

  Jodie, standing directly behind Mae, saw her great-aunt’s shoulders flex. “Well,” Mae said before anyone else could answer, “you’re just gonna have to make do with me. I’m Mae Parker. How can I help you?”

  Rufus Hammond’s eyes narrowed. “You know who I am?” he demanded.

  Mae nodded.

  “Then you know why I’m here.”

  “We’re sorry for your loss, Mr. Hammond,” Mae said levelly.

  The man arrogantly spit on the ground. “The only way I’m gonna believe that is when you hand over Rio Walsh.” The two sons shuffled menacingly.

  “We don’t have him,” Rafe said.

  “That’s not what we heard.”

  “Then you heard wrong,” Rafe replied.

  “We wanna look for ourselves!”

  Rafe reacted instantly to the insult. “Are you sayin’ you don’t trust our word?”

  “I guess that’s what I’m sayin’!” Rufus Hammond replied.

  Tate inserted himself between the two factions. He was back in full uniform—badge, hat, service belt with bolstered gun, pepper spray and handcuffs. “Now that’s enough!” he directed sharply. “There’s not going to be any trouble here. Mr. Hammond, I’m Tate Connelly, sheriff of this county. I’ve spoken with Sheriff Preston a number of times. I’ve told him, like I’m tellin’ you, if Rio Walsh is in the vicinity, we’ll get him. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  “Do you think we’re stupid?” the older brother challenged. “We know how it works! You’re all protectin’ him because he’s one of yours!”

  “Like hell he is!” Rafe snapped back.

  “Then why won’t you let us look?” the younger brother demanded.

  “Because Parker land is Parker land,” Mae decreed.

  “My little girl is dead!” Rufus Hammond exploded.

  “That doesn’t change a thing,” Mae said.