She's The Sheriff (Superromance Series No 787)

by Duquette, Anne Marie

  “I can live with that. But I never would’ve thought he’d follow me here, of all places.”

  “You’re right. You didn’t think.”

  Desiree pulled the car over to the side of the road and stopped. “I’ve tried to be patient...Deputy. I know it’s my first day on the job, so I’m overlooking your interference. But I’m not going to overlook your insults anymore. Exactly what is your problem?”

  “My problem, Sheriff, is you. The most important part of becoming sheriff is realizing that the law is the same for everyone. You treat everyone, and I mean everyone, the same.”

  “So if the devil himself is arrested for a crime and demands a fair trial, you’d give it to him?”

  “Under the law, he’s entitled to the same due process of law as you or me. Or Albert Jondell. It doesn’t matter if you respect the people you deal with. It only matters that you treat them all the same.”

  “You’re dead wrong.”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes. Law-abiding citizens deserve more from me than rapists, thieves and murderers. As for Jondell, he’s a carryover from my old life—and he’s an exception.”

  Virgil unfastened his seat belt to swivel around and face her full on. “Maybe your handling of Jondell was an exception. I don’t know. But because of it, you have an enemy who’s made this town his new home. That’s twelve hundred people who have to live with him, too. Including my family and yours. You’ve endangered all of them. You happy about that?”

  “I...” Desiree’s breath caught in her throat.

  “I’m sure as hell not.” Virgil’s voice was as soft as a cactus needle sliding deep into flesh. “Now we have to ride down to the campground tonight and enforce that bastard’s rights. Because it’s the law. If you can’t abide by the oath you swore as sheriff, resign your position right now.”

  Desiree’s hand immediately flew over her heart. It was several minutes before she was able to speak.

  “I don’t agree with you, nor do I have to answer to you,” she said in a hoarse whisper. “However, I see your point.”

  “You do have to answer to the town—to the people who trusted you enough to elect you to office. Let’s see how many are left smiling when they discover who Tombstone’s newest resident is.”

  Desiree started the car again. “We don’t know yet that he’s decided to stay. Call the office and have the next shift check out this alleged job of his. Wyatt gave me a horse to use as long as I’m here. I’ll ride down to the campground before dinner. Where is it?”

  “About a twenty-minute ride from the house. Borders on the ranch—unfortunately.” He shrugged. “We’ll—”

  “Thanks.” Desiree broke in. “I’ll go as soon as I get home.”

  “After dinner is soon enough. I don’t want to miss seeing Trav.” He paused. “We have to tell Wyatt and Morg that Jondell’s in town. And I want to tell Travis myself.”

  “Good idea, but don’t hold dinner for me.”

  “You mean—”

  “That’s right. I’ll take care of this alone.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  WYATT BODINE WATCHED Desiree saddle Wyatt’s spare horse in the Silver Dollar stable. Pearl Drop, a gray Arabian mare whose tiny spots put her out of the “dappled” category and into the “fly-specked” category, tossed her delicately molded head with excitement.

  “She’s raring to go,” Caro’s husband said. “Don’t let her throw you for a bruise or two.”

  Desiree carefully smoothed the horse blanket wrinkle-free, then slung her saddle on the mare. “She won’t. Hold on, girl. I’m working as fast as I can.”

  “Sure you know the way to the campground?” he asked. She’d let Wyatt know where she was going—without saying why.

  “Yep.” Desiree carefully threaded the cinch, waiting for the mare to exhale before tightening it. “Virgil told me. It’s at the Silver Dollar’s northwest boundary.” She paused. “I think I’ve ridden this land almost as much as Caro during my visits. How’s she feeling, by the way?”

  Wyatt shrugged and leaned back against the nearest hay bale for a rare breather. “Good for a change. But then, she doesn’t know Jondell’s here in Tombstone.”

  “But you do.” The mare snorted, and Desiree immediately cinched up the strap. “Did Virgil even stop to wipe his feet before he spilled the beans?”

  Wyatt didn’t answer. Desiree reached for the bridle and bit hanging on the wall.

  “Not even that long, huh?” she said. “He explained to Travis?”

  “Yup. Told him to be careful, stick close to the house.”

  She dunked the bit in some water to wash off any possible dust, dried it and warmed it in her hands so the cold metal wouldn’t shock the mare’s teeth. “At least he has some sense.”

  Pearl Drop plucked at the leather bridle in Desiree’s hand, eager to go. Desiree gently pushed the muzzle away as Wyatt said, “Doesn’t look like you’re in a hurrying mood, even if Pearl here is.”

  It was Desiree’s turn not to answer. I’m not exactly looking forward to this.

  “You can always ask for official backup,” Wyatt suggested.

  “That’s true.” She slipped the bit in and drew the headstall over the petal-shaped ears.

  “Morgan and I would be glad to give you a hand. Or Jamie could meet you out there by Jeep.”

  “This is a routine visit, not a shoot-out.”

  “Still... think it’s wise to go alone?”

  “I’m fine. Anyway, knowing Virgil, he’s probably left for the campsite already.” She buckled the bridle, taking care not to tangle the longish mane. “If he hasn’t—” she led the mare out of her stall “—tell him I’ll be taking the north trail. Heaven forbid he should miss any official business. Or keep his nose out of mine.”

  Desiree swung into the saddle, lightly clicked her tongue and was off.

  A few minutes later, Virgil stepped out of a stall a dozen boxes down, holding the reins of his personal mount, a black stallion named Onyx.

  Wyatt grinned. “She’s got your number, Virg.”

  “Why? What did she say?”

  “Oh, not much. Not much that was favorable, I mean.”

  “Subtlety isn’t our sheriff’s strong point, is it?”

  “She’s a Hartlan, all right. Temperament and looks. She’s almost as pretty as Caro, don’t you think?”

  Even prettier, Virgil started to say, but caught himself just in time. “It’s her brains I’m worried about,” he added curtly.

  “Just her brains?” Wyatt asked with a grin.

  “Drop it, Wyatt. The last time I fell for a woman I worked with, I ended up divorced.”

  “Well, you’ve got that lousy luck out of the way. Now you can do it right. Look at Morgan—he had to screw up with Kim before he finally figured it out about Jasentha.”

  “I don’t intend to screw up—period. Anyway, Jaz and Caro have brains. I only hope Desiree’s half as smart as those two.”

  “She’ll do. Best hurry.”

  Virgil mounted up inside the barn.

  “Hey, Virg?”

  “Yeah?”

  “The north trail. She’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks, Wyatt.” Virgil touched his boots to the horse’s flanks. “I’m on my way.”

  FROM BEHIND THE BARNS, Travis saw his father on horseback following Desiree, also on horseback. He frowned. He knew the rudiments of riding, having taken lessons in L.A. But he didn’t have his own horse, nor did he know how to saddle one. They were always saddled for him back home. All he ever did during lessons was ride the ring in circles, jump the obstacles in circles and do dressage in circles. That was pretty boring, but Tombstone was even worse.

  Stuck here alone. Again. What a rip! Dinner wasn’t for a couple of hours yet. Everyone else had something to do. He couldn’t call any of the other kids at his school; he didn’t know them well enough and most of them were probably dorks, anyway. He’d brought a bunch of magazines from L.A., but they were all
old and he didn’t feel like reading anymore, and here he was, bored out of his skull. The horses were nervous around him, the stupid TV didn’t have cable, and he was tired of his handheld video games. Even his new pal, Oscar, had curled up for a nap in Caro’s cool bedroom.

  He wanted company. He wanted to spend time with his father. I never get to see him! Could he catch up to the horses? Travis bit his lip and considered. The horses weren’t going that fast. It was too hot to run them.

  But it isn’t too hot for me to run. Back home, Travis spent every free moment skating, surfing and swimming, and he loved to run. He was also used to the California heat. Okay, so he didn’t carry a canteen in California like everyone in Arizona seemed to do. He usually shoved bottled water into his back jeans pocket, like all his friends. In fact, he had one there right now. And he wore a surfer’s baseball-style cap instead of those goofy-looking cowboy hats.

  Best of all, he knew his body. Travis had the Bodine grace, agility and reflexes. He also had endurance and speed. He’d used them to give the media—and sometimes his own bodyguards—the slip more than once.

  There’s no bodyguard here. As long as the horses continued their slow pace, he could follow them. Maybe he could learn how to stalk human quarry, like his father. Dad had told him about the man who beat up Ray’s girlfriend and raped her. Maybe he could sneak up on that guy. But you needed practice, so he’d start now by following Desiree and his father. An excellent plan—as long as they didn’t see him. Then he’d be grounded for sure.

  He shoved his long bangs off his forehead. The freedom of the wide-open spaces was calling to him. The openness, the sheer expanse of the desert, was almost as fascinating as the boundless Pacific. He was tired of people, tired of being cooped up, tired of being inside four walls. Here, he could be outside by himself. In this desert, he could be free.

  Travis smiled, pretending the waves and waves of sandy soil were the beaches at Malibu. He bent over and stretched, doing his warm-up exercises. Dad won’t ground me, he decided, starting off with an easy, effortless lope. He always goes where he wants. I’m only doing what he does.

  But just in case, it might be better if no one saw him. Being grounded was no fun. Oh well, he wasn’t worried. He loved the sun, and he loved the heat. He’d follow his father and Ray; he’d find out what they were up to.

  And he’d do it without getting caught.

  DESIREE FIGURED she’d see Virgil before she was halfway down the trailhead. She was right.

  “So Wyatt passed on my message. What took you so long?” were her first words as his horse pulled up beside hers.

  “Changed my clothes.”

  She noted his beige uniform. Of course he’d have a uniform left from his days of service in the past. It still fit, too. Perfectly... What was it they said about a man in uniform? Well, whatever it was, Virgil looked damn good in his. More than attractive. He looked... commanding. And downright exciting.

  She dragged her attention away from the lean muscles filling out the front of his shirt and dropped her eyes to his gun belt.

  “That doesn’t look like a Colt .45 to me.”

  “It’s a 9 mm Luger Parabellum.”

  Desiree nodded. The 9 mms and .45s were the legal standard for law enforcement weapons.

  “Something wrong?”

  “No, but...” She hesitated. “I just find it strange that you, the oldest, seem the least traditional. Clip guns, fancy clothes, jet-setting adventures—”

  “Even an actress ex-wife,” he added dryly. “You’re right. Hardly a Bodine tradition.”

  Desiree tactfully avoided that subject.

  “Well, then, I guess I’m safe.”

  Virgil cursed the response his words had evoked, then cursed himself for caring as she continued.

  “Actually, I was referring to your weapon. I thought for sure you’d carry the usual Colt.”

  “It’d be hard. You have it.”

  Desiree blinked, her free hand automatically checking her safety strap and touching the weapon below it. “This? But Wyatt gave it to me.”

  “With my permission. It used to be my gun.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know.” Desiree knew that western men hardly ever shared their guns. “I’ll buy myself a replacement as soon as possible.”

  “Don’t do that on my account.”

  “You don’t want it back? It has a good feel to it.”

  “Keep the gun. It belonged to a different man.”

  Virgil watched Desiree swivel toward him in her saddle, start to say something, think better of it, then begin again. “Thank you, Virgil.” She swung forward once more, her eyes on the road ahead.

  His spirits drooped. He hadn’t meant to sound so mysterious; the words just slipped out. But since they had... He sighed. He’d given her an opening large enough to drive a miner’s mule team through, and she’d flatly ignored it.

  It was an attempt to get closer to another human being, an attempt at intimacy, but it was hardly an invitation to bed, for heaven’s sake. It appeared Desiree had little interest in him other than in a professional capacity. He was disappointed, surprisingly so.

  I shouldn’t be. She’s... what? Thirty-five? I’m ten years older, with a failed marriage and a troubled son. Hardly a prize for someone with her youth, brains and courage.

  His admiration did take him by surprise. Yes, Desiree was too idealistic. And yes, her courage was misplaced. She’d not only ruined Jondell’s career, she’d ruined her own, as well. Yet there was something about her—an honesty, a confidence in herself and in her future—that he recognized and admired.

  She’s like I used to be. But his failed marriage and a life-style that had inspired more cynicism than happiness had taken away that youthful hope.

  Well, that’s part of life. Someone has to plant Ray’s feet back on the ground.

  It had to be done, but suddenly he didn’t feel so good about his role as the oldest Bodine, the responsible one. I wish it didn’t have to be me. It was a role he hadn’t sought, but as a result of birth order and now circumstance, the position was his, nonetheless. He always looked out for people, especially family and friends. If there was no one to look out for him in return, so be it. He was an independent man. Duty was duty. His work was cut out for him—right now in the form of a slim blonde with a borrowed gun, a borrowed horse, a brand-new uniform...and an enemy who’d followed her here.

  Heaven help us all.

  The sun was low in the sky by the time the horses topped the last rise toward their destination. The campground headquarters was nothing fancy; a beat-up mobile trailer that had seen better days served as the office and as a small supply store for customers. Beyond it and the dirt driveway, there were a few . concrete beds for trailers, complete with full hookups, a dozen more dirt-and-shrub beds for trucks and a handful of cleared tent sites. What had once been a no-frills mining camp was now a no-frills camping site. It catered to the more spartan camper—no children or pets allowed—and served as overflow for those who hadn’t been lucky enough to get a nicer place in town.

  It was here that Virgil and Desiree finally stopped. A hitching post, actually a rail, was located conveniently near the rusty, algae-filled water trough and a scrap-wood corral. Though serviceable, they spoke of older times with frequent horse traffic.

  The two law officers were greeted rather abruptly.

  “About time someone showed up. I got a wife to get home to, and I don’t aim to sleep in some strange bed!”

  Desiree greeted the man with a gun. “Hello, Catfish.”

  The retired miner with the waxed white mustache preferred to give everyone a hard time. No wonder Jondell had bypassed the campground “office” and asked for assistance.

  “Evening, Catfish,” Virgil said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m singing a lulleeby to the turistas! What’s it look like I’m doing? I’m fillin’ in for Mac Nielson, the owner. He’s off on some jaunt across the border instead of stayin’ home
and keeping his bizness from going to hell in a mining cart!”

  Catfish glared at the occupied car—Albert Jondell’s —in the distance.

  “Evenin’, Miz Sheriff. I hope you’re aimin’ to kick that man’s bee-hind back to Phoenix. Better yet, let Virgil here kick his bee-hind. He’s got bigger boots. Then maybe we can all go home and get our dinners!”

  “I wish I could, Catfish,” Desiree said. “But I’m afraid you’re going to have to let Mr. Jondell register.”

  The streak of curses that flew from his lips was nothing Virgil hadn’t heard before. He waited to see how Desiree would react to the situation—and the curses.

  She didn’t flinch once. “I agree with you,” Desiree said. “However, since Mr. Jondell isn’t a convicted criminal, we have no reason to deny him his rights.”

  , “He’s a no-good son of a desert cur, he is! I say we tar and feather him, then run him out of town on a rail! Better yet, string him up from the nearest tree!”

  Desiree drew herself up straighter. “Mr. Chilton, until Mr. Jondell violates any campground orders, he’s allowed to conduct business at this establishment. Please have the paperwork and fees ready. I’ll be back with him in a minute.”

  Catfish stared as Desiree headed for Jondell’s parked car. “Virgil, did you hear her? This is plumb crazy! She musta been kicked in the head by a wild bronc! Filth gets treated like filth!”

  “She’s doing her job, Catfish. She’s in the right, and I personally gave her a shove in that direction.”

  Catfish’s jaw dropped. “I swear on the good book, I never would’ve thought the day’d come that a Bodine would stick up for worthless cow-pie trash!”

  Virgil’s chilly smile didn’t reach his eyes. “The law is the law, Catfish. I may not like it, but I will enforce it. However, if Mr. Jondell breaks any campground rules...if he litters or he’s being excessively noisy—”

  “What? You mean I have to stay here and baby-sit?”

  “For a while longer, if you don’t mind. I notice a few women campers.”

  Another string of curses ushered forth from the miner’s lips. Virgil ignored them. His attention was on the approaching Jondell—and Desiree.