“We’ll need a place to stay when we go to visit your mom. And your friends.”
“When? When?”
“I figure we can go back for vacations. Maybe a couple of holidays, if your mother’s not on location. You and she can stay at the house if I’m tied up here.” Yeah, I’ll hold on to that house until Travis is ready to accept living here, in Arizona.
“Or if she’s not tied up,” Travis said glumly. “You’re always working. She’s always working. We’ll never go home again, will we? I’ll never see my room again...or...or anything.”
“You will. I promise.”
Travis threw his arms around his father’s neck and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad.”
“You don’t have to thank me, son. It’s your home. You have my word. And...”
“A Bodine always keeps his word. I know.” Travis raised his head from his father’s shoulder. “Am I still in trouble?”
“Nope.” Virgil turned his son’s face to his. “But there’re a few rules you have to remember here in the desert. Just like there are rules you have to follow to be safe while surfing. First, no going off without telling anyone. That rule I know you understand.”
Travis ducked his head. “Yes, sir.”
“Second, hat and water, wherever you go.”
The boy nodded. “I know that rule, for sure.”
“Third, you check with me or your uncles to see what’s safe land for exploring and what isn’t. Just like you check with the lifeguards back home to see where the rips and undertows are. There are dangerous areas here in the desert. And dangerous people. Starting tomorrow, you’ll learn about them. And I’ll get Rogelio to assign you a horse of your own.”
“Can I get a room of my own, too?” Travis immediately asked. “No—a house of our own, where I can have a room.”
“What, you don’t like bunking with me?” Actually, it was a good idea. The old ranch house was getting crowded, and he could certainly afford to build a place of his own on Silver Dollar land.
“You snore.”
“I do not!”
“Do, too! You snore like a big fat pig, and your feet stink! Pee-yoo!”
“You little cow pie!” Virgil’s pride demanded nothing less than a serious session of roughhousing. Travis fought back as well as he could, considering how hard he was laughing. Virgil breathed in his child’s freshly showered smell and hugged him close. How could you do it, May? How could you so easily give up this beautiful, precious child?
Travis refused to drop the subject. “I want my own room again, okay? And some of my things from home. And a new computer!”
Virgil capitulated. “Once our stuff arrives, we’ll move into one of the empty ranch cabins until I can build us our own place.”
“I wish we could move our old house here.”
“Well, you can help me design the new one to look like it. A smaller version, maybe. It’ll just be you and me again.” Morgan and Jaz would need this room for their baby. All the marriages were taxing this ranch house to its limits. Good thing Wyatt intended to add on.
“Without the bodyguards?”
“No bodyguards.”
“Will you build me a pool, too?”
“Don’t push it, kid,” Virgil said gruffly. Still, it might not be a bad idea. Like his mother, Travis was a born water baby, swimming before he was walking.
“With a diving board! And a slide!”
“Go brush your teeth.”
“Pul-eeze, Dad?” Travis wheedled. “Will you at least think about it?”
“If you go brush your teeth.”
That brought the requisite, “Aw, do I have to go to bed?”
“You can stay up awhile. Here. I brought you some things to read.”
Travis opened the bag, pulled out a surfer magazine and candy bar and sighed with contentment.
“Toothpaste’s inside. Use it after one candy bar. No more.” He settled Travis in bed, covered him with a lightweight summer sheet and gave him a final kiss. “Say your prayers after you turn out the light. I’ll come check on you later.”
“Thanks, Dad. Close the door, okay? There’s too many girls around.”
Virgil did, leaving the room with a smile on his face. Now to smooth the troubled waters with Desiree. This time he was careful to knock before he entered her room. There was no answer. He knocked more loudly. Nothing—not even a sound from Oscar. Virgil turned the handle and opened the door just a crack.
“Desiree? May I come in?”
After another knock and no response, he entered anyway. Her bed was still made, but she and her dog were gone. He peered quickly out her window and scanned the area for her car. It was there—and in the distance he saw Desiree astride Pearl Drop. She was almost beyond his line of sight. His good mood disappeared.
Damn that woman! She’s gone off without consulting me again!
DESIREE GRIMACED as she studied the soiled sheets inside the Tombstone Travelers, Trailers and Truckers Campground office. “You want the cot, Oscar?” she asked. “Maybe I should have taken the car.”
She wasn’t too happy with her new accommodations. The smell of dirt, decay and trash obviously didn’t do much for the dog, either.
“Well, it can’t be helped,” she told him, speaking aloud for her own reassurance as much as his. “Someone has to watch Jondell, and I guess that’s me. I need backup, and that’s you. Remember what the dog book said.”
Dachshunds might be small, but they were fierce. Originally bred to track and kill badgers in their lairs, they were as fierce—and as effective an alarm—as any full-size police dog.
Her “fierce” dog yipped plaintively and scratched his ear.
“Please don’t tell me this place has fleas,” she moaned.
Oscar interrupted his scratching, his foot motionless in the air, then charged across the room. His lip curled as he dived under the cot, flushing a large desert rat. The rat scurried across the room, Oscar in hot pursuit. The dachshund was quick, but the rat knew the territory and disappeared into the nearest bolthole.
Desiree hefted her saddle with one hand and grabbed the sleeping bag with another. “That does it! We’re sleeping outside, boy.”
Oscar reluctantly left his quarry, the fur on his neck still bristling. The fresh air of the desert night was a welcome change. The moon shone bright in the clear sky, and the North Star was visible. Desiree could even see the faint glow of Mars. Pearl Drop contentedly munched the virgin clumps of green in the wooden horse corral, adding to the picture of tranquillity. Facing in this direction, no one would guess the proximity of a filthy office and run-down camp-ground.
At least she’d be able to sleep here. Desiree balanced the saddle on a corral rail as far away as possible from the water trough—obviously a potential draw for other rodents, rattlers and the forty-odd varieties of Arizona scorpions that feasted on watersource prey. She spread the sleeping bag near the saddle, removed her gun belt, placed it at the head and sat down atop the bag, boots and all.
“Come on, pup, bedtime. Your first Tombstone camping adventure.”
Oscar hesitated. Desiree took off her hat, covered the gun belt with it and stretched out.
“Don’t worry. The local sheriff is here to protect you.”
Oscar didn’t seemed too convinced, but after a little more coaxing he curled up at her side. He moaned and squirmed, trying to get more comfortable.
“Settle down! I know it’s not home, but it’s better than nothing.”
Finally he tucked his tail neatly underneath him and rested his pointed nose on crossed paws. Oscar closed his eyes, but Desiree wasn’t ready for sleep yet. She couldn’t help but reflect on the irony of her situation.
If she was home—back in Phoenix—and if this was three months ago, she’d be taking a dip in the pool, then making her nightly call to her parents. She might be going out to dinner and a movie with a girlfriend, or maybe on a date with her former boyfriend. Funny how she’d hardly thought of old what’s-his-
name since coming to Tombstone. She was too busy thinking about her new job, her new home, her new co-workers. One in particular—Deputy Virgil Bodine. Desiree found herself comparing her previous job with her job here. And comparing her ex-boyfriend to Virgil... Her life in Tombstone—and Virgil—came out ahead every time. Except for that sermonizing of his! Still, if she was in the market for a husband, she could live with it. She might not always like how Virgil delivered the truth, but he always spoke it. Unlike what’s-his-name, who was as shallow as an Old Tombstone grave. Not that he’d go out with her now. He was too concerned with political status and too interested in big-city salaries.
Desiree had neither anymore. The nice things she owned were locked up in storage and her luxury car couldn’t manage the dirt roads around here—roads she had to travel for her new job. Worst of all, she was guarding Jondell, the dregs of humanity personified, making certain he wouldn’t prey on others unlucky enough to be staying here. The truth of her situation could no longer be denied.
I lost it all. And now I’m paying...big-time. Was it worth it? Would I turn in Jondell again?
That question disturbed her deeply, as did its answer. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.
Numerous variations played themselves out in her mind. Linda was a friend. If I hadn’t known Linda, would I have told the press about Jondell’s DNA results? What if it had been my mother or Caro? How could I not have told the press? Would I have gone further than just talking?
Desiree shivered, although it was far from cold. She was in dangerous territory. Breaking the law—like taking a life—was always hardest the first time, for lawbreakers and lawmen alike. She had been taught that in the police academy. Criminals who had killed once found it much easier to kill again. Lawmen who broke the law once found it easier to do so the second and third time around. She remembered what her professor had said.
“Only those with the deepest, purest, truest sense of conviction can adhere to their own moral codes of action in place of civil codes. That percentage of people is extremely minute.”
The class had rumbled and murmured its disagreement but listened.
“The rest of us don’t do as well on the honor system. That’s why we have laws—to make it easier for those without the necessary strength of character to stay good citizens. For example...if there wasn’t the penalty of traffic court, how many of you would put twenty-five cents in the parking meters? Raise your hands, class.”
Desiree raised hers.
“Now, if you had no change and had to walk five city blocks to the nearest store to get it, then come back that same distance in the rain or snow, would you still do it if there wasn’t a penalty? No parking ticket to worry about? Raise your hands, future lawyers—and be honest.”
Desiree hadn’t lifted her hand. Nor had anyone else in the class.
“Remember, once you cross that invisible line, it’s much easier to cross it again. If you do—” the professor shook his head “—you’ll make life harder for yourselves and those you’ve sworn to protect and defend. My advice to you, class, is don’t.”
I should have listened But I didn’t. I couldn’t let Jondell walk free. Not after what he did to Linda. I just couldn’t.
Could she stay behind that invisible line while working this new job? Could she stay behind it during the civil suit and the hearing that would determine whether she retained the right to practice law? And if she was allowed back in a courtroom, could she stay within the boundaries of civil law when her conscience dictated she do more than the law allowed?
Was Virgil right? Were her actions concerning Linda revenge instead of justice?
These, too, were questions she couldn’t answer. Virgil certainly seemed to have all the answers when it came to her. But heaven forbid she offer him a little advice on his son. Then he was all over her like a vulture on roadkill.
Well, if nothing else, no one would be barging in on her here. She loved her sister, Caro, dearly, but living in a house full of people was a shock when you were used to the single life. Beneath the stars, she’d have a bit of peace and quiet tonight—at least from Deputy Virgil Earp Bodine.
A SHARP REPORT WOKE HER immediately. It was far in the distance, but the sound was enough to rouse her from her less-than-comfortable bed.
With stiff shoulders and an even stiffer back, Desiree sat up. She fumbled for her wristwatch and pressed the light button. It was barely three in the morning. Oscar lifted his head but didn’t growl. Pearl Drop was tense, her delicate ears straight and perked forward. The sound came again, and it was just as loud. That’s not a gunshot! But what is it? And from where?
Desiree grabbed her gunbelt. Within seconds she had it fastened. As a third report followed the second, she reached for the police radio on her belt and called in the activity to the night shift.
“I can’t tell exactly where it’s coming from,” Desiree concluded. “Once I find the specific location, I’ll check back with you. Hartlan out.” She listened for more noise, hoping to pinpoint a rough location.
Nothing. Let’s hope it was just some rowdy local fooling around with firecrackers. It doesn’t sound like gunshots. First place to check—Jondell’s campsite.
She strode through the campground carefully, for the few lampposts around had bumed-out bulbs in them. This place is a dump! Next on my list is to get the health inspector out here.
No one disturbed her progress, not even to ask a question. Oddly, that upset her, too. What caliber of people chose to stay in this godforsaken place? She reached Jondell’s tent.
“Mr. Jondell? Will you come out, please?”
No answer. She shone the flashlight directly at the sides of the tent. There was no silhouette. She flipped open the unzipped tent flap and, careful not to step over the threshold, shone her light inside. Empty.
I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Desiree headed for the three outhouses. The path to them was well-worn, the stench an easy guide. First place for the health inspector, she promised herself. They smell like they haven’t been drained for ages!
The outhouses weren’t in use. Desiree saw one had an open door, one a broken door and one no door at all.
“Damn!”
She took out her police radio to notify dispatch—just as the sky to the northeast burst into light.
That can’t be the sun! It’s too early! That’s...
The wind blew the smell of gasoline her way, a wave so strong it overpowered the stench of outhouse.
That’s fire!
Desiree made her way back to the corral to saddle the mare. She continued to listen for further sounds. When she had finished with the horse, she tied her to the corral rail, then called to Oscar and put him inside the office with brisk efficiency. He would be safe there, if not from fleas, at least from snakes and intruders. She couldn’t be worrying about a pet. She needed all her concentration now.
“Stay, Oscar.”
Tombstone’s sheriff closed the door behind her.
THE RINGING OF THE PHONE woke Virgil from an uneasy sleep. He snatched up the receiver. “Desiree?”
“No, it’s Marta. The night shift got busy and called me in to dispatch. We’ve got a huge parking-lot fire. The sheriff just radioed it in. Mary Ann’s already called Jamie.”
“Where?” he demanded as he slid into a pair of jeans.
“You’re not going to like this, Virgil. It’s on Silver Dollar land—the caves area closest to the trailer park.”
DESIREE WATCHED the flames attack car after car in the parking lot of the Silver Dollar Bat Sanctuary. The situation was grim. Judging by the numerous shattered car windows and open car hoods, this was no accident. Every single car was burning. Occasionally a gas tank would explode, echoing the reports she’d heard earlier. Worse yet, the parking lot was fairly full. Bats were active at night, and so were the many scientists, researchers and hobbyists who journeyed to Tombstone to watch them. Many of these people camped in the surrounding hills.
There
was nothing Desiree could do—nothing at all, except securely tie the skittish, nervous Pearl Drop at a safe distance and wait for the fire trucks.
VIRGIL TAPPED TWICE with his first two fingers on Morgan’s door—the old Bodine signal that never failed to rouse any of the three brothers. A tap on Wyatt’s door followed. In seconds, both brothers were outside in the hall.
“Trouble at the bat sanctuary,” Virgil said. “Desiree radioed it in.”
“I’ll get the truck,” Morgan said quietly. “Jasentha’s out there.”
“I thought she wasn’t working nights anymore.”
“She isn’t, but she wanted to meet with a visiting biologist from Texas. So she’s there tonight. I hope she’s okay.”
“I’ll leave Caro a note,” Wyatt said. “Mind saddling me a horse, Virg?”
“Sorry, don’t have time. Ride in with Morgan.” In his mind’s eye, he was putting on his loafers...already unlocking the gun case downstairs for his 9 mm. “Desiree’s out there alone.”
ONE BY ONE THE GAS TANKS exploded in the burning cars. Desiree and Pearl Drop flinched each time. Desiree nervously fingered her radio but knew that any questions regarding the ETA of the fire department were a waste of time. The sanctuary was far out in a deserted area of the Silver Dollar Ranch. There was only one dirt road in and out, a winding, twisting affair that followed the rough, mountainous landscape. Unless one was on horseback using trails on Bodine property, help was far, far away.
At least no one seems to be in any immediate danger , Desiree thought. Until she saw the luxury car driving in erratic circles.
“What the—”
The car was trying to escape the parking lot, but the burning cars were proving to be formidable blockades. Worse, the rocky outcroppings around the parking lot created an effective barrier to any other escape routes.
“You there, get out of the car!” she yelled. “Out of the car!”
Whoever was driving couldn’t hear her. Judging by the obvious lack of control, she suspected the driver was panicked and perhaps oxygen-deprived. Desiree knew what she had to do. She dropped a hand to her gun belt. What did they say back in the academy? Was it better to run into the flames—and toward a possible assailant—with a loaded gun and a belt full of bullets around your waist? Or was it safer to take the weapon off?
She's The Sheriff (Superromance Series No 787) Page 11
