When to Call a Cowboy

by June Faver

  Beau fisted his hands at his waist. “She did, huh? Sheriff, don’t you think it’s about time you questioned this Valentina?”

  “Um, yeah. Say, Beau, is your papa coming over?”

  “Big Jim specifically sent me over to represent him. He and my oldest brother are at the feed store right now.” Beau figured stretching the truth a bit would motivate the sheriff to follow through.

  The sheriff stood up and tucked his shirt in under his substantial gut. “The other girl is still in holding.” He signaled to the deputy to go get her.

  Milita held up both hands. “Wait, Sheriff. I don’t think these girls need to be exposed to that young woman. They’re really afraid of her.”

  The sheriff scratched his chin. “Well, I suppose we don’t have to question her in this room. We can step into another office right across the hall.”

  Milita spoke to the girls in Spanish, and they moved closer together, fear on their faces. When Milita rose to follow the sheriff, the older girl reached out to grab her hand. Milita leaned down to pat her shoulder and say something in a soothing voice.

  Beau noted the girl looked more confident. She released Milita, who crossed to the door and slipped out. Beau followed her to the other office.

  In a few minutes, the deputy brought a very sullen Valentina in, and the sheriff motioned for her to be seated. She tossed her hair before dropping into the chair but kept her gaze averted.

  The sheriff sat heavily behind the desk. “Now, listen here, young lady—”

  She rolled her eyes and turned in the other direction. “No entiendo,” she murmured.

  “Well, fortunately for you, we have someone right here who speaks fluent Spanish.” Beau gestured to Milita, whose expression could best be described as scathing.

  Valentina huffed out a dramatic sigh and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Okay, I speak some English.”

  “Tell us how you happened to be hiding in the loft.”

  “I—I was kidnapped. Some men grabbed me and those others. They said they would kill me if I didn’t stay quiet.”

  Beau’s lips tightened. “Sounds like you speak English just fine.”

  “Them other girls tell a different story,” the sheriff said. “They told us it was you who arranged their kidnapping and that you and your boyfriend brought them up here.”

  She made a scoffing sound. “They’re lying. I would never do that. I am a very nice girl.”

  Beau fisted his hands at his waist. He wanted to punch something. Anything. “That remains to be seen. When are you expecting to hand the girls off to their buyer?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m a victim here.”

  “You just keep telling yourself that,” the sheriff said.

  “What is the name of your boyfriend with the truck?” Beau’s voice sounded harsh to his own ears.

  Valentina placed one hand on her breast. “I—I have no boyfriend.”

  “I’m a-gonna have the deputy take you back to your cell.” The sheriff stood up abruptly. “I suggest you make yourself comfortable, ’cause you’re a-gonna be in a cell for a long, long time.”

  Valentina’s face reflected pure venom with just a flash of terror. The deputy took her by the arm and escorted her back to the holding cell.

  “So, what now?” Milita asked. “What’s going to happen to Sofia and Ana? They’re just innocent babies.”

  The sheriff sat back down. “First, we’ll try to locate their parents and verify their story. In the meantime, I’ll just call social services outta Amarillo to come and git ’em.”

  That seemed reasonable to Beau, but Milita was troubled.

  “Oh, that sounds so cold,” she said. “They’re already scared to death.”

  The sheriff flapped his hand at her in a dismissive gesture. “Aw, those social ladies are real pros. They’ll know how to take care of them girls…until their parents can get together with ’em.”

  “That sounds good, doesn’t it?” Beau asked. He wanted to get back to the feed store and share what he had learned.

  “I’ll stay here with Sofia and Ana until something is settled for them.” Milita turned to return to the other office. “Tell my father I’ll be there in time for the dinner crowd.”

  “Um, yes. Sure.” Beau made his escape and drove back to the restaurant. He noted that the restaurant was empty except for Big Jim and Colton, who had settled at a table with Mr. Rios and were enjoying coffee and pie with him. Beau pulled up a chair, and Mr. Rios brought him a slab of blueberry pie and poured coffee into a cup before returning to his chair.

  Beau explained that Milita got involved with the two young victims and had promised to return to work by the time the dinner crowd began arriving.

  Mr. Rios shook his head and grinned. “Ay, that girl. She has a soft heart. She loves children, puppies…anything that needs a home.” He pushed back from the table. “I guess I better call in another waitress.”

  * * *

  On the drive back from the hospital, Dixie called the Garrett ranch only to find that her daughter was not missing her at all.

  In fact, Ava said, “Oh, Mommy. I’m having such a good time with Gracie. We’re playing dress-up. Can’t I stay a little longer?”

  Dixie had asked to speak to Leah, who told her the girls were about to have lunch. She invited Dixie to dinner and assured her the entire Garrett clan would love to see her.

  So, instead of driving to pick up her daughter, Dixie was home alone.

  She unlocked the front door to the Moore ranch house. It swung open slowly, yawning into a great abyss of blackness. Somehow she was reluctant to enter. It was deadly silent.

  A tingle of fear spiraled around her spine. She huffed out a sigh and straightened her shoulders before striding inside.

  Kicking out of her shoes, she shed clothes as she made her way to the bedroom…her childhood bedroom.

  She chose a pair of shorts and a tee to wear with her sandals. Then she sat on the bed. The bed she had last slept in as a teen.

  “Okay, I have to stay here for a year. I better start kicking the ghosts out.” She began by taking down the poster and the bulletin board covered with all kinds of memorabilia from high school. She gazed at the things she had thought important enough to save and steeled herself as a wave of nostalgia swept over her.

  Dixie swallowed hard. “Just get this room cleared out.” She took down the curtains, running a finger over the dusty mini-blinds. When she dumped out her dresser drawers, she realized her father had kept everything exactly the same as she had left it. In a short time, the room was stripped bare of any personal items except for the bed coverings. The next step would be to take Ava to the hardware store to pick out just the perfect color to paint her new room.

  It dawned on her that she would have to face another chore. Clearing out the master bedroom. Her father’s room.

  That door was at the end of the hall, and it was closed. She hadn’t opened it since her return to Langston. Couldn’t open it. Until now.

  She stood in the hallway, biting her lower lip. Just go in. Yet she stood frozen, unable to enter.

  Dixie turned, accepting that she was a coward. She got a few feet down the hall before she let out a howl of anger. “No! It’s just a room.” She whirled around, marched to the intimidating door, and threw it open. So much for bravado. She took a moment to gather the courage to step inside.

  The room was dark and smelled like her father’s Old Spice aftershave. She pressed her lips together and flipped on the light. The overhead lamp had tear-shaped faceted crystals that sent spangles of light onto the ceiling and walls.

  Apparently Vern Moore had not been so determined to keep the memory of his beloved wife, Mamie, intact. He had changed the bedspread and drapes. The walls were still an off-white, and the only other remnant of Mamie was a wallp
aper border she had glued to the wall close to the ceiling. It had been popular at the time, but staring at it now gave Dixie a case of the creeps, as though being here somehow violated her father’s privacy.

  “Oh, Daddy,” she whispered. “What really happened? Did you disown me?”

  Her question lingered in the stale air and remained unanswered. She heaved out a sigh. “I can do this. It’s not going to be any easier tomorrow.”

  She pulled the dark-green bedspread off along with the rest of the bedding and left it in the hallway. Next she took down the matching drapes, adding them to the pile. The room already appeared brighter and even more so when she raised the mini-blinds. She unlatched the windows and raised them to let in some fresh air.

  Dixie turned around in a full circle, gazing at the major alteration resulting from her simple changes. I can do this…I really can. Suddenly, she felt much better. Less of an intruder…more as if she had a right to be there.

  “Okay, Daddy. I’m going to clear out the rest of your stuff and figure out how to make this room fit for the new lady of the house.” She took a wastebasket and sat down at the dresser her mother had used to apply her makeup and style her hair. It appeared that her father had removed all traces of his former wife. Dixie opened the drawers, but most were empty. A single bobby pin slid across the bottom of one drawer to assure her that she had not imagined that it had once been crammed with the beauty tools of one Mamie Moore. Capturing the errant bobby pin, Dixie held it for a moment and then dropped it in the wastebasket. She opened the smaller drawer, and her stomach did a tumble and roll when she saw it was stuffed with envelopes. Unopened envelopes that had been mailed and returned.

  Dixie couldn’t draw a breath. Her chest felt as though a tight band was constricting her airway. The address on the letters was the condominium she shared with her mother in Dallas.

  Her hand shook when she reached out to tentatively touch the envelopes. They were arranged in neat bundles, each bound together with a wide rubber band.

  At first she couldn’t identify the pounding sound, but then she realized it was her own heartbeat, pulsing in her ears. She swallowed hard, steeling herself to examine the envelopes.

  She lifted the first packet out of the drawer, cringing as though she had been punched in the gut when she saw the addressee—Miss Dixie Moore. These letters had been sent to her…by her father.

  There! In her mother’s own handwriting…the words Return to Sender. Wrong address.

  Swallowing hard against the taste of bile rising in the back of her throat, she slipped the rubber band from the first packet. She shuffled through the unopened envelopes, noting that they were fairly recent and the date stamps indicated a weekly letter from her father.

  Two opposing emotions battled inside her. Fury that her mother had lied to her. Rage that she had dealt such painful blows not only to her daughter but also to her husband, destroying the once-close father–daughter relationship.

  And for her father she felt the ache of regret. Shame for believing that he could abandon her, that he would stop loving her.

  “I’m so sorry, Daddy,” she rasped out as twin rivulets of tears streaked her cheeks.

  Dixie Moore was not the kind of woman to dissolve into tears at the drop of a hat, but now, she wept and wept, bawling at the top of her lungs. She found a roll of toilet paper in the bathroom and ripped it from its wrapping. She stomped around the house, alternately crying, blowing her nose, and dropping crushed tissue in strategically placed wastebaskets.

  When the rage had subsided to a murderous simmer, Dixie dashed cold water on her face and gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror. Her eyes were puffy and her skin mottled, but she had regained her composure.

  She still had to go to the Garrett ranch for dinner and to retrieve her daughter. She didn’t want any trace of tears to upset Ava, and God forbid if Beau observed that she had been crying.

  Instead she focused on her mother. She replayed every single lie she had been told subsequent to discovering that she was pregnant. Mamie Moore had cut off everyone with whom Dixie had had a relationship, except for her very supportive mother.

  She took out her phone several times, ready to roast her mother verbally, but each time, she put it away. Not going to let her off the hook that easily. No, she owed her mother a face-to-face confrontation, although the way she was feeling at the moment, it might be their last.

  Her cell sounded, but the ringtone wasn’t her mother’s. She sighed and accepted the call. “Hello?”

  “Miz Dixie? This here’s Sheriff Rollins. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

  Concerned, Dixie assured him that it was not a bad time. She couldn’t imagine why the sheriff was calling her. Maybe he had news about her father’s death. Maybe he had arrested the killer.

  “Ma’am, I regret to inform you that your place of business has once again been the location of another crime.”

  Dixie’s stomach clenched with fear. Not Beau. “What—what happened now?”

  “This afternoon, three young women were found hiding up in the loft out back o’ your store. They say they been kidnapped.”

  “What? I don’t understand.”

  There was a chortle on the other end of the line. “Well, Miz Dixie, that makes two of us. It seems your store has been involved with human trafficking for some time. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

  Dixie groped for words. Kidnapping? Slavery? “Um, Sheriff Rollins, I have no idea what’s been going on. I just inherited the property, so I can’t say what’s transpired in the past, but I can assure you that I knew nothing about anything illegal…and I think if you knew my father, you know he would never condone anything that was against the law.”

  He cleared his throat noisily. “Yes’m, Miz Dixie.”

  * * *

  When they arrived back at the ranch, the Garrett men separated, each with a different purpose in mind. Big Jim headed to the stables, while Colton made a quick phone call to touch base with Misty, who was still at work in town.

  Leah was in the kitchen preparing dinner, with the three children gathered around the table.

  Ava looked up when Beau entered the room. “Daddy!” She pushed away from the table and ran to greet him. The sight of her face always gave him a stab of joy. How could he have missed her birth…the first years of her life?

  He shook off all negative feelings as he stooped down to scoop Ava into his arms. He lifted her up and gave her a tickle on the tummy. “How’s my girl?”

  “I’m having fun. Mommy is coming to dinner, and she’s going to take me home.” She looked confused for a moment. “To the other place.”

  Beau carried her out onto the patio and closed the sliding-glass door behind them. He settled into a deck chair with Ava on his lap. “It sounds like you don’t know where your home is anymore.”

  Ava stared at him, her eyes wide. “My gramma says my mommy and me live with her.”

  “I see.” Beau worked his jaw to keep from grinding his teeth together. “Well, I think you have two more homes. You have a home where your mommy is staying now. She owns that house and all the land that goes with it. It belongs to you as well.”

  Ava nodded her head wisely, as though she understood.

  “But since I’m your daddy and this is my home, it’s also your home.”

  She flashed a quick grin. “And Grampa. This is where my grampa lives…and…and my Auntie Leah and Auntie Misty.” She gnawed her lower lip. “And Uncle Colton and Uncle Tyler. Oh, and Mark and Gracie?”

  “That’s right. And we’re all your family, so you have a home with us wherever we are.”

  That response seemed to satisfy her, and she dropped her head back against his shoulder.

  He heard the door slide open and then close again. “Well, this looks cozy.”

  Ava lifted her head,
and her face lit up. “Mommy!” She scrambled out of Beau’s arms and ran to greet Dixie.

  Beau stood, smiling to see both his redheads locked in a hug. “Hi, baby.”

  Dixie straightened, laughing. “Which one of us was that directed to?”

  She looked happy. Maybe too happy. Her eyes were bright, and her smile was wide, but something was a little off.

  Beau couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was something simmering right under the surface. She was upset about something. He hoped it wasn’t anything he’d done.

  He approached warily. “You’re both my babies.” He wrapped his arms around Dixie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You look…beautiful.”

  There was the tight little smile again. “Thanks. You must have missed me.”

  “That’s for sure. I think Ava has had a good time playing with her cousins.”

  Dixie’s brows drew together. “Cousins?”

  “Sure. Tyler is my brother, and his wife’s daughter must be Ava’s cousin.”

  Dixie nodded uncertainly.

  “And Colton is also my brother. His wife’s little brother must be a second cousin too.”

  She was laughing now. “That’s stretching it a bit, don’t you think?”

  He kissed her nose. “Maybe, but more family is always better…at least that’s what I believe.”

  The door slid open again, and Big Jim gestured for them to come inside. “Break it up, you two. Leah is putting dinner on the table. Let’s eat.” He held out his hand to Ava, who scampered inside.

  Beau drew Dixie into his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. She seemed to relax a bit as he gazed into her eyes. “I love you, y’know?”

  This elicited a genuine smile. “I know.” She released a deep sigh. “I love you right back…you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.” He gave her another squeeze before gesturing to the open doorway.

  The long table was set, and some of his family were already in place. His middle brother, Ty, waved them over.

  “Dad is serving our meal right up.” Ty seemed to be in particularly high spirits.