One Tough Cowboy

by Lora Leigh

“Happy?” Decker’s voice was a bit too high with residual outrage.

  “Well, now. That remains to be seen,” Hunter said, as he picked up the report and read it out loud. Slowly. He pointed out grammatical and spelling errors, then circled them with a red pen.

  Decker balled his fists at his sides but remained silent. His face turned as red as the ink on his report. No matter how hard Hunter tried, he couldn’t piss the deputy off enough to make him quit. And evidently, he hadn’t pissed anyone off enough to try to kill him yet either.

  With an exaggerated sigh, Hunter dropped the pen back in the holder and handed the report back to Decker.

  “Fix those mistakes,” he ordered. “I better see it on my desk, corrected, when I get here in the morning.”

  “Fine.” Decker managed to get the word past his clenched teeth as he snatched the report from Hunter’s hand.

  “All right then, you have a good night.” Hunter motioned for him to leave his office.

  Hunter shook his head and resisted the urge to sneer. He finished straightening his desk, grabbed his keys, and followed Decker out of the building.

  His cell rang as he locked the door.

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, Sheriff. You still at the office?” Shane asked, his voice quiet.

  “I was just locking up. What’s up?” Hunter asked a bit absently, aware of Decker deliberately gunning the motor of his car as he reversed from his parking slot. That kind of adolescent aggression only made him look ridiculous, but no doubt, Decker fancied himself a badass in his brand-new muscle car.

  “Can you wait for me out by where you usually park? I wanted to discuss something with you privately. I’m almost there.” Shane sounded far more serious than normal.

  Hunter’s brows lifted in surprise. “Yep. I’ll be there.”

  The thought occurred to him that Shane could be trying to get him out alone to make it easy for someone to target him, but he didn’t think so. It didn’t fit really. It just wasn’t in the kid’s character. Besides, his brother-in-law trusted him. His aunt trusted him. That spoke well of the younger deputy. The current state of affairs had Hunter second-guessing everyone. Unfortunately, he couldn’t afford to be trusting, he had no other choice but to be suspicious of everything and everyone right now.

  It was a beautiful night, the kind of night when a man could enjoy a cigarette, he thought with fleeting regret. Aunt Madeline had bullied him into giving them up years ago, and he was glad she did. Still, nights like this he sure as hell wanted one. He took a toothpick out of his pocket and put it between his teeth instead, as he leaned against his Jeep and waited.

  Shane pulled into the parking lot moments later. He got out of his Mustang and scanned the area as he walked over to where Hunter waited for him.

  “Sheriff?” Shane nodded, his expression creased with indecision.

  Hunter narrowed his eyes on the deputy. He liked him, couldn’t help it. But he’d learned to be on guard. The boy was family by marriage, but like Hunter, he’d been raised in Deerhaven and could well have stronger loyalties to the wrong people.

  “What did you need?” he asked.

  Shane glanced toward the sheriff’s office then back to the shadows where they stood and stepped closer, leaning against the truck as Hunter did, with his back to it, watching the parking area.

  “Okay, here’s the thing,” he said quietly, having finally made up his mind. “Rodgers got a call earlier today, and whoever he was talking to evidently got pissed enough to start yelling. I was standing there…” Shane grimaced as Hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I feel like a tattletale. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but the man was cursing him loud enough to wake the dead. Or I think it was cursing. Sure sounded like it. Anyway, I couldn’t help but overhear.”

  It was obvious Shane wasn’t comfortable tattling as he called it, but he had good instincts it seemed, and those instincts were warning him that something wasn’t right where that phone call was concerned.

  “You’re good, Shane. Go on.” Hunter frowned, tension invading his body as he felt another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

  “It was just damned strange. I could have sworn the words weren’t English. I couldn’t place the language, though.” He shook his head, grimacing at whatever he heard. “Hell, it’s just been bothering me.”

  Now, wasn’t that interesting.

  Hunter shrugged, feigning indifference. “Who knows who Rodgers has pissed off this week?”

  Rodgers was known to piss off everyone except his good buddy the mayor. But whatever Shane had heard, whoever he’d heard, it wasn’t normal or it wouldn’t be bothering him bad enough to bring it to Hunter’s attention.

  Shane scoffed. “Hell, if that ain’t the truth. I figured it was nothing, but you know, with everything that’s been happening lately…” Shane sobered. “And Rodgers, well, he looked a little freaked out too. Got my Spidey senses tinglin’.”

  Hunter chuckled. The kid was such a nerd.

  Shane grinned. “Anyway, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell ya.”

  Like Hunter, Shane sensed Decker and Rodgers couldn’t be trusted, or he would have kept his suspicions to himself.

  “Yeah. You’re right. Didn’t hurt anything at all.” Hunter nodded. “Thanks for lookin’ out. You know how Joe Rodgers is, though. He’s an abrasive fella, keeps everyone pissed.”

  It was the best he could do to waylay those suspicions. Shane was young and idealistic; Hunter didn’t want him going off on his own to investigate something that would get him killed. Mark might never forgive him if Hunter let something happen to his nephew. Gracie Anne sure as hell wouldn’t forgive him, and her husband, Clyde, would just kill him. Simple as that.

  Hunter suspected Clyde was one of the few people who could actually do it too.

  “Yeah, guess so.” Shane sounded as uncertain as Hunter felt.

  Shane shifted from one foot to the other as though standing still was too much for his body to handle for too long.

  He was like a pup, always ready to dive into the next adventure. “I better get goin’. I’m gonna drive out to the lake. There’s a few friends meeting up there tonight.”

  “Be careful. Give me a call if anything starts looking rough. You’re not really a superhero, you know,” Hunter reminded him, grinning.

  Shane grimaced. “You’re as bad as that danged brother-in-law of yours. I’m not stupid either, Sheriff.”

  There was a shade of offense in the kid’s tone. Hunter sighed. Damned kids think they’re indestructible. That’s how they end up being dragged out of the lake … or worse.

  “I’m aware of that, Shane.” He nodded. “Just a warning I’d give to any of my men. No offense intended.”

  Shane paused, his gaze intent as it met Hunter’s before he seemed to accept the explanation.

  “Yeah. Okay then. I’ll be careful.” Shane smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Sheriff.”

  “No apology needed. Night, Shane.” Hunter watched as Shane turned and headed across the parking lot to his car.

  He searched the area carefully, his eyes narrowing as he assured himself no one had overheard the conversation. It might be nothing, as he had tried to convince Shane, but it wasn’t the first clue like this one he had come across.

  Now, he just had to figure out what the hell it meant.

  chapter three

  Samantha kept herself busy most of the day. She had spent the morning neatly folding Aunt Dottie’s clothes, organizing and carefully boxing them up. Who knew her aunt had so many clothes?

  She realized she didn’t know as much about her aunt as she believed. They’d talked on the phone every month or so. Samantha had kept promising to come visit, but she never did. That guilt would be a thorn in her side for the rest of her life.

  When she was younger, she and Aunt Dottie been closer, but after the move, Dottie seemed more distant whenever Samantha talked to her. Thinking back, she wondered if that had been deliberate. Had Dottie purposefu
lly cut herself off from her brother and his family?

  The ladies from the mission came by after church and picked up the boxes. It was clear they wanted to stay and chat a while. Samantha was quick to apologize, telling them she would invite them in but she had so much to do to get Aunt Dottie’s affairs straight. It wasn’t a lie.

  Aunt Dottie’s business paperwork was spread all over the dining room table. She promised to call them if she had more things they might be able to use.

  It took Samantha more than a couple of hours to go through all of Aunt Dottie’s bank statements. Nothing looked suspicious, but she put them all back in the accordion files they’d been kept in. She had five of them, one for every year over the past five years. Thank God Aunt Dottie was so organized. She’d found the deed to her house and a key to a bank safety deposit box.

  Now this could prove interesting, she thought, pursing her lips as she examined the little silver key. Or, it could be nothing at all. Only one way to find out. She slid it onto her key ring, grabbed her purse, and locked the door on her way out.

  Not much had changed. She noticed there were a few new fast food places closer to town now. Town being a stretch of road that had built up a bit. They had a new co-op feed store, some business offices, and a dollar store, still no Walmart. That was not a bad thing in her opinion. The bank was on the square, though, and the only thing that had changed was the little shops.

  Some were new, some had changed out with something else, and some were empty. Samantha loved the nostalgic feel of the square, like she’d stepped into an old western movie set. The architecture of the shops gave it that air, the little mom-and-pop pharmacy looked the same as it always had. She wondered if the Abernathys still ran it. The antiques shop was new but fit right in, even the bank gave Deerhaven personality.

  There were probably hundreds of these town squares all over the country, but this was Deerhaven’s, and it would always be Samantha’s home.

  She made it into the bank just in time, with only thirty minutes to spare. After showing the banker her documents proving she was the executor and sole beneficiary, then wading through some red tape, Samantha was led into the vault and the safety deposit box was unlocked with both her key and the bank’s. The banker set the box on the table with a forced smile and left her to open it in privacy.

  Samantha wasn’t sure what she expected to find, but she didn’t expect the small flash drive. Aunt Dottie didn’t even have a cell phone, much less a computer. There was no note, nothing else inside the box. She slipped it into the zippered pocket inside her purse and left the vault.

  Her heart was pounding, her mind whirling with questions. The secure, department-issued laptop was in Detroit. It wouldn’t be easy to get access to a computer without people prying. The library had a computer, but that was not at all secure. Hunter had to have one. She’d have to wait and figure out a plausible reason to go see him the next day. Being inconspicuous was no easy task in this nosy little town.

  Back at the house, Samantha made a pot of coffee and got back to the business of clearing out Aunt Dottie’s things to take her mind off what might be on the flash drive. There wasn’t much left to do.

  In the bathroom, Samantha put three bottles of medications in a Ziploc bag and set it aside. Aunt Dottie was very practical, she had the typical toiletries, mostly store brands, two tubes of lipstick in very tame shades of pink and coral. Samantha smiled at that—she had a cool color and a warm color. Aunt Dottie was a lovely woman and hadn’t needed makeup even if she had wanted to wear it. She always said it made her face feel dirty. However, she never went without her lipstick.

  Samantha chuckled at her reflection in her aunt’s gilded bathroom mirror, remembering the wild and crazy girl she used to be.

  Her face had always been dirty. She’d been such a tomboy. Her hair, now often kept up in some way, had been a wild mop of tangled curls back then. Her freckles were more prominent and plentiful from always playing outside in the sun, forever running all over the county getting into mischief. She had such great memories of fishing in the lake, swimming in the deepest part of the creek, climbing trees … falling out of trees.

  She finished tossing out the partially used bottles and boxing up the unopened ones for the mission, then carried the box to the living room. She looked around at the few knickknacks that sat collecting dust here and there. It was very likely they were all given to her, and Samantha didn’t have the heart to get rid of them. She sighed, thinking about what to do with them now. What about the doilies and the furniture? It felt like she was disassembling the beloved woman’s life.

  She shook her head in a feeble attempt to clear the cobwebs of sadness and nostalgia, and walked back into the bedroom. Two weeks wasn’t going to be enough time to settle everything. Any longer and she’d be jeopardizing her job, possibly her career. She loved being a cop, but she’d been disillusioned with her life in Detroit. Honestly, she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do.

  Hopefully by the end of the two weeks she’d have some kind of clue what she wanted to do next. Maybe by then she’d miss the noisy city, annoyed by the slow, boring days in the country. She sat and flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The peace and quiet in Deerhaven was something she hadn’t known she needed. Lying there now, listening to the crickets and the frogs, was oddly soothing. She turned her head and stared at the glowing red numbers on the bedside alarm clock that told her it was six o clock. Really? Six already? She sighed again. It was going to be a long night.

  A flash of inspiration had her grinning.

  Night Hawk Saloon!

  Maybe Sadie was still there. It would be so good to see her again. Sadie couldn’t fuss at her this time. When she was ten, she’d been determined to sneak into the bar to watch everyone line dance, maybe annoy the hell out of Hunter by playing a trick on one of his dates. They’d always been so fussy.

  She still laughed when she thought about the time she set that little frog on Chelsey Horton’s shoulder. She didn’t know it would slide down into her cleavage. Hell, it was barely a frog, just outta tadpole stage. She didn’t know why Chels was carrying on so much.

  Pixie Pest, he called her, trying to hide his smile and look angry so as not to piss off his date. He tugged at her long, tangled ponytail and threatened to tell her daddy, right before Sadie kicked her out and did worse—she called her mom.

  Samantha laughed out loud remembering Chelsey’s caterwauling. She looked through her suitcase for something to wear. She wondered if any of her friends from back then were still around. Probably not, most everyone she knew moved on. She might be able to scope out the current locals and eavesdrop on some gossip, though.

  She stepped into the steamy shower. She couldn’t believe Hunter was still there. Since he had joined the military like his daddy wanted him to, she had thought he would be overseas or at least stationed far away from home. She’d heard that he’d been in Special Forces and that he’d been deployed and had seen combat. She’d make a point to ask if all that was true when she saw him tomorrow. Well, unless by some chance he was at the Night Hawk tonight.

  She stepped out of the shower into the small, humid bathroom, wrapping a towel around her. She wiped a washcloth across the mirror then carefully applied a little makeup and blow-dried her hair. She tilted her head, giving herself a quick check in the mirror, then went into the bedroom and dressed. She hadn’t been a country girl for fifteen years, but she seemed to slip right back into the hick look easily enough with a baby-blue sleeveless, button-up, cotton shirt, blue jeans, and leather sandals. It amazed her how comfortable she felt. She wouldn’t dream of going out to a bar dressed like this in Detroit.

  It felt good to have her unruly hair loose and hanging free past her shoulders in big thick curls. She frowned at herself in the mirror and tried to picture what she’d look like with her hair cut short. May not be a bad idea, she thought. The severe bun she wore while at work gave her a headache.

  She was excited a
t the prospect of seeing some folks she knew before. She might even have a little fun. She checked to make sure her clip was full and slipped it into the inside pocket of her little leather cross-body bag. For a moment she debated about taking the flash drive out and stashing it somewhere. No, it was probably safer on her.

  * * *

  The parking lot wasn’t too full but it was only seven o’clock. The nightlife wasn’t even getting started yet, and it was Sunday. Some country folk had a thing about going to a bar on a Sunday. She handed her five-dollar cover to the man at the door and ignored his toothy grin and roaming eyes. She decided against sitting at the bar and made her way to the small booth in the dark corner in back where she could see everyone who came in.

  She sat there a moment, scanning the faces. An older woman in a halter top and jeans sashayed up to the table. Her hair was aggressively teased and piled on top of her head like blond cotton candy, the prettiness of her wide brown eyes was lost in the heavy black mascara caking her lashes. “What’ll ya have, hon?” she asked around her gum. It was all Samantha could do to keep from gaping. She hadn’t seen Sadie in years, and she looked exactly the same. A couple of wrinkles here and there, but still the same.

  “Sadie!”

  “Yeah?” Sadie frowned then looked down at Samantha, narrowing her eyes. “Hey, I know you, you’re … ah…”

  Samantha couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Sadie tilted her head to the side as she tapped her pen against her chin, thinking back.

  A large hand rested on Sadie’s shoulder. “That there is the Pixie Pest herself, Sadie.”

  “Oh my word!” Sadie’s warm brown eyes widened in surprise. Her bright red lips spread into a grin. “Little Samantha? You better get up here and give me a hug!”

  Samantha jumped up and embraced the woman. Over Sadie’s shoulder, Samantha’s gaze locked with Hunter’s silvery-gray eyes, sparkling with humor. A slow smile slid across her face. The dark blue shirt he wore opened at the neck and tucked into his well-worn black jeans. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing muscular forearms. In one strong hand he held two frosty bottles of beer.