Cowboy Justice

by Melissa Cutler

  It threw him off something fierce to know Rachel had been crying. He was dying to know what would push her to such an openly emotional state, though he didn’t dare ask. The ways of women when they got together weren’t meant to be understood by mankind, his dad used to say when the two of them retreated to the workshop on Bunco night or during his sisters’ innumerable sleepovers.

  Stratis and Binderman were busy organizing their evidence kits and preparing for the task at hand, so Vaughn met the sisters to explain the reasons for their visit. Rachel’s gaze barely touched on him as she looked at the vehicles and Binderman before resting her gaze on Stratis, who was digging through his trunk. She frowned at him, her eyes wary.

  He hated that she was uncomfortable, but there wasn’t a whole lot he could do about it.

  “Good morning, Sheriff,” Jenna said.

  He touched the brim of his hat in greeting, then turned his focus to Rachel, “How are you feeling today, with the gunshot wound?”

  “Better, thanks. It’s healing nicely.” Her response was as woodenly delivered as his question. They were quite a pair.

  Maybe that was why Jenna was staring at him like she was trying to read his thoughts telepathically. Maybe she could. What the hell did he know? Of all the Sorentino sisters, Jenna was a complete mystery to him, though it hadn’t always been that way. When Jenna was in high school, he’d had her figured out to a fault, a product of hauling her butt to school or Rachel’s door near about every week. But this new Jenna, the single mom, he didn’t know a thing about her except that, from all accounts, she had a whip-smart mind that rivaled her older sisters’.

  When she wouldn’t stop staring at him, he extended his hand in greeting. “How are you, Jenna?”

  “Doin’ fine, Sheriff.”

  As he was scouring his brain for a bit of small talk to engage her with, Binderman chose that moment to walk up, for which Vaughn was eternally grateful.

  “This is Deputy Binderman, and Undersheriff Stratis is over by the truck. We’re here to gather evidence and ask you all a few more questions.”

  “You’ve already been all over the Parillas Valley. What more do you need?” Rachel asked.

  “Oh, I meant at the other graffiti locations.”

  “We haven’t . . .” Jenna rounded on Rachel. “What’s he talking about, Rachel?”

  By the way Rachel’s expression turned wide-eyed and panicky, it was clear she hadn’t been forthcoming with her sisters on what had been happening around the farm. He did a mental cringe. Bad call on her part. She had to know it was going to be public knowledge sooner or later.

  “If I say it’s not important, will you let it go?” Rachel asked her.

  “I don’t think so,” Jenna answered in a peeved tone.

  “It’s nothing. Really.”

  “Spill it, Rachel.” Geez, she sounded like Vaughn’s mom when she’d caught him or one of his sisters up to mischief. There must be some sort of secret mom school where they all learned to do that.

  Rachel huffed and threw her arms up. “Spill your guts, Rachel.Isn’t that just the theme of the day?”

  Vaughn looked at Nathan and they both took a step back, then another. And one more for good measure.

  “You and Chris don’t have any sisters, so you’re not altogether familiar with this sort of sisterly battle?” he asked.

  “Nope. Just us three boys. Our oldest brother, Tom, has two girls.”

  Vaughn watched Rachel explain the other graffiti instances to Jenna, whose face got redder and madder with every detail Rachel revealed. “I have two younger sisters. My only word of advice is never get caught in the middle of two sisters fighting. It ain’t pretty. Especially when they live close together and their monthly cycles match up.” He shuddered, remembering some of the hair-pulling, shrieking battles his sisters had gotten into growing up.

  Nathan balked. “Aw, now, don’t talk about woman stuff. Ugh.”

  “Spoken like a man who doesn’t have sisters. There’s no escaping the topic when you live with three women. You become numb to all the tampons and crying and ice packs and late-night chocolate ice cream runs. You’ll have to take my word on that.”

  Nathan looked horrified.

  Vaughn chuckled. Nothing wrong with razzing your greenest deputies every so often.

  His smile vanished when Jenna stalked up to him. “Is this true? Twelve times people have come onto our property and defaced it? Once even as close as behind our stable? That’s way too close for a criminal to be to my son. Can’t you arrest Rachel for failure to report or something? Teach her a lesson about keeping every damn thing inside herself instead of sharing the information with her family, of all people?”

  “I’m not going to arrest Rachel. She thought she was doing the right thing, keeping you all in the dark.”

  Jenna’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Oh, perfect. Of course you’re taking her side. I should have guessed you’d back her up.”

  “Don’t you dare bring him into this,” Rachel hissed, low and menacing. The two went back to snapping at each other.

  Binderman leaned over and whispered from the side of his mouth, “What happened to your advice to never get caught between two sisters fighting?”

  Vaughn glanced sideways at him, then held up his palms and said in a booming voice, “We have bigger problems. I received information today that one of the suspects, Shawn Henigin, has actually been a guest at your inn.” That got their attention.

  Rachel and Jenna gasped. Jenna reached to Rachel and gripped her forearm, shaking her head. “No way. I would’ve recognized the name.”

  “He probably used an alias,” Vaughn suggested. “I know your farm mainly serves families, but have you had any couples stay with you lately?”

  Jenna nodded. “Three pairs in the last few months.”

  Rachel’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t recognize him on Monday, but then, I don’t have much interaction with the guests, especially the couples without kids.”

  “Understood,” Vaughn said. “While Deputy Binderman and I interview you about the graffiti, Undersheriff Stratis has a picture of Henigin to show Jenna and Amy, along with some questions to ask them. Would that be all right with you, Jenna?”

  Jenna nodded and swallowed.

  Stratis nodded to her. “Let’s get started, Miss Sorentino.”

  But Jenna didn’t move until Rachel gave her a subtle nudge that kick-started her into action. Stratis opened his arm, guiding her toward the front porch.

  When they were out of sight, Rachel asked, “What would this Henigin man gain from staying with us? None of the graffiti has been close to the ranch, except for the one time behind the stable. As far as I know, nothing was stolen, so it’s not like he was casing the joint.”

  “I don’t know, but it chills me to the bone to think of you, Amy, and everyone else sleeping under the same roof as that man. I hope to God my source was wrong.”

  Rachel nodded and jammed her hands into her pockets, her jaw tight, her shoulders tight—everything about her tense and scared. She looked so shaken, he was overcome with the need to hold her. He shook the thought away. “Let’s work on getting out to the derricks as fast as possible. We’ll puzzle out the rest later. I’m assuming the locations of the graffiti incidents are accessible by truck?”

  Rachel shook her head. “All but the second to last one, on the boulders overlooking the western edge of the Parillas Valley. It’s only reachable by horse or ATV.”

  That didn’t make for a fast or quiet getaway for the vandals. He filed that bit of data away.

  “How many ATVs do you have on this place?” Binderman asked.

  “One is all we’ve got working right now. Most of the revenue from the oil has gone toward paying debts and our workers’ wages. Plus, I’m saving for a new tractor engine.” Shaking her head, she bit her lower lip. “And I don’t know why I’m telling you that. Sorry.”

  “No. That’s understandable. A new tractor is important.” Underst
andable? What a moron. For once, he wished he could talk to Rachel in front of other people and not sound like a robot with a broken circuit board. He took a deep breath and tried again. “I’d like you to come to the crime scenes to tell us more about the vandalism and show us exactly where the graffiti occurred. Does the ATV hold two?”

  An unwanted thrill stirred to life in him, imagining Rachel straddling the ATV behind him, her arms around his waist, her face near his shoulder. Good Lord, why had he suggested such an outrageous idea?

  If the idea of sharing an ATV affected Rachel as it did him, she didn’t show it. “It’s a one-seater. I can ride horseback. Follow you there.”

  On Tuesday, he’d longed to ride with her. To be near the wild strength she harnessed when she moved in the saddle. The circumstances today weren’t ideal, but it might be as close as he ever got to that dream. “If you’ve got a second horse up for the task, I’d like to ride too. My evidence kit’s small enough for a saddlebag.”

  Though riding double on an ATV hadn’t sparked a fire in her eyes, this new notion did. Flushing, she turned away from Nathan’s line of sight.

  “That would be fine.” Her voice was throaty and low. She pressed her hand to her chest. “Jenna’s horse, Disco, hasn’t been on the trail in a while. You’ll like him.”

  He nodded to Nathan. “Binderman, you take the truck and process the derrick for evidence. After Rachel and I get you started there, we’ll move over to the other scenes and leave markers for you to find them.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Rachel, would you point Deputy Binderman toward the derricks?”

  He waited near the stable door while Rachel gave directions to Nathan, then followed her through the sliding double doors. She beelined for the tack box.

  “What’s going on with Jenna?” he asked, joining her.

  She pulled out a saddle blanket and handed it to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Before I brought up Shawn Henigin, she was acting . . . odd. She wouldn’t stop staring at me.” He wished he had the guts to add, And you two had obviously been crying. “I couldn’t tell if she hates me or if she was trying to flirt with me. Either one would be bad.”

  Rachel snickered, coming up from the tack box with a halter and bridle combo. Brushing past him, she fitted the halter and bridle onto a gorgeous black horse with white diamonds on its legs and nose, then led it from its stall.

  “Jenna’s not flirting with you.” She stroked the horse’s neck, and Vaughn had to wonder if she were deliberately avoiding his gaze. He came up next to Rachel to let the animal sniff its fill of him. “Vaughn, meet Disco.”

  “Hey, buddy. Wanna go for a ride?” He reached in front of Rachel to stroke Disco’s neck.

  “How long has it been since you’ve ridden?”

  It was a fair question. “Kellan and I go trail riding on his land fairly often. I was practically born on a horse, though, with my parents being farriers.”

  Disco nudged Vaughn with his nose, then gave his cheek a little nibble and knocked his hat off. Vaughn snatched it out of the air and tucked it under his arm, then scratched Disco’s neck near his chin. “How come you don’t think Jenna was flirting with me? You think that’s so impossible? I’ll have you know I get flirted with all the time.”

  “I believe it. Kate Parrish considers you Quay County’s most eligible bachelor now that Kellan’s off the market. She told me so today.”

  “She did, hmm?” Had to wonder what else Kate said, seeing as how they’d muddled through a couple awkward dates before Vaughn had gentlemanly, but firmly, let her know a third one wasn’t in the cards. Kate was nice enough, and pretty in a former prom queen way, but he didn’t feel a thing for her except neighborliness. “Then why is it so hard for you to entertain the idea that Jenna might think of me the same way?” He smiled so she’d know he was teasing her.

  Rachel took the blanket from Vaughn and placed it on Disco’s back. “Because she told me she’s not into your whole cowboy lawman vibe.”

  A chuckle bubbled up from low in his belly. “That’s a good thing, because I’m not into her whole younger sister of my—” He froze, stuck on wondering what Rachel’s title would be in his life.

  “Former lover vibe?” Rachel provided, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked to the tack box.

  Oh, doggie. Time to let that uncomfortable conversation thread die. He wandered past the rows of stalls, stopping in front of Growly Bear, and offering the horse his hand to smell.

  “You want me to get Growly Bear out?”

  “No. I have to take Amy’s horse, Nutmeg, today. Growly threw a shoe and our farrier couldn’t come by until tomorrow.”

  Vaughn peered into Growly’s stall. The horse’s left hind leg had been fitted with a cloth boot.

  Rachel appeared next to him. “Lincoln was my trail horse. Growly didn’t see much trail time, so we didn’t know his shoe was compromised until . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  He was anxious to save her from having to vocalize about Lincoln’s death. “Understood. Who’s your farrier?”

  “Chuck Harring.”

  The farrier community was a small one. Chuck was a longtime friend of his family and an all-around decent guy. “He’s good. When he comes by, make sure you tell him Growly’s going to be seeing a lot more trail time. He might need to adjust all the shoes. Were you able to recover the thrown shoe?”

  “Yes.”

  Vaughn smoothed his hand along Growly’s neck. “I keep a basic farrier kit in my trunk. You’d be surprised how often it’s come in handy over the years in my line of work. Chuck wouldn’t mind me stepping in, if you’d like me to take care of it real quick.”

  “That would be great, but I know you have a lot of work to do and the day’s not getting any younger. I could ride Nutmeg no problem.”

  For reasons he didn’t care to analyze right then, he wanted to help Rachel out, get her riding her preferred horse. He wanted to make her happy, sure, but he suspected his offer was more about the way he felt watching her gallop with Growly across the Parillas Valley earlier that week. “Bring him out of his stall. I’ll get my kit.”

  The grounds were quiet, save for two of Rachel’s farmhands who were tinkering under the hood of a tractor. They didn’t notice him, so he kept moving.

  Back in the stable, he and Rachel exchanged cautious smiles. She watched from a stool as he took off his tie and utility belt, leaving them in a pile on a workbench. He hesitated with his fingers at the button of his uniform shirt’s collar. It wouldn’t be professional to get it smudged while shoeing, but stripping to his undershirt in front of Rachel was the start of a story that invariably ended with them both naked and breathing hard.

  He solved the issue by turning away from her until he’d taken off his shirt and replaced it with his leather farrier apron. Still, he felt her dark eyes studying his every move. When he snapped and glanced her way, it was to see her raking her eyes up and down his body, her lower lip snared in her teeth and her eyes dark as midnight, as if the sight of him in a white T-shirt and apron was the sexiest sight she’d ever witnessed.

  In college, when he worked for his parents farriering, he’d definitely managed some dates with various ranchers’ daughters using this look, but that was a solid fifteen years ago, when he was a whole lot younger and fresher faced.

  He moved a stool near Growly’s tail and laid his tools out. Then he smoothed his hand over Growly’s back, then his hindquarters, until he was certain the animal was comfortable with him. Maintaining contact with his shoulder against the hindquarters, he slid his hand down Growly’s leg. In a quiet voice, he asked Growly to lift his leg as he patted his leg above the hoof. Growly complied and Vaughn pulled it onto his apron, to rest on the ledge made by his bent knees.

  From the corner, Rachel let out a ragged breath that left the air in the room crackling with tension so brittle he could’ve snapped it like a stick of toffee.

  Don’t look at her. Do the task
at hand and keep your mind out of the gutter.

  He picked up his hoof knife and took to cleaning the hoof, prepping it for the shoe. Ignoring Rachel.

  He was doing fine with that until he asked her to bring him the shoe. Because then she came too close and said in a husky voice, “You might not be a rancher by profession, but your heart is pure cowboy.”

  Don’t look at her. “Cowboy lawman, according to your sister.”

  She let out a throaty laugh and strolled toward her perch in the corner. And then, as if he weren’t having enough trouble keeping his thoughts virtuous, he watched the sway of her ass until she resumed her seat. Their eyes met, and the look she gave him singed him where he stood.

  Forcing his focus to shoeing, he tested the smoothness of Growly’s hoof with the pad of his thumb, filed down a couple rough spots, then fitted the shoe on. Before he had enough sense to restrain himself, he blurted, “Unlike Jenna, you dig my cowboy lawman vibe, don’t you?”

  “What do you think?”

  Actually, he wasn’t sure what the hell he’d been thinking, asking her that. He selected a No. 5 nail and a hammer, then tapped the first nail in place. Hoping to defuse the tension with humor, he painted on his best self-deprecating smile and said in an exaggerated Texas drawl, “Darlin’, how about I show you my six-shooter?”

  Rachel snickered. “I bet that’s the line you use on all the ladies.”

  “Hey, a guy’s got to work hard to earn the title Most Eligible Bachelor. My pretty face alone don’t cut it.” He tapped the next nail in place.

  “I hate to break it to you, but I get the impression that the only requirements for Eligible Bachelor status in Quay County are: one, that a man’s single; two, that he has a steady job; and three—this one’s optional—he owns a house.”

  He raised a brow and glanced her way. “That’s all women want these days? Seems simple enough.”

  “You’d be surprised how hard it is for a woman to find that winning trifecta in a man.”

  Oh, hell, no. She better not be saying what he thought she was. Try as he might to keep it in place, the smile wiped from his features. When he spoke, the timbre of his voice had a sharp edge of irritation. “You been looking?”