A Match Made in Texas (32 page)

The entire Bramble courtroom quieted. All except for Reverend Jessup, who hadn’t stopped spouting off since regaining consciousness.

“I will not be quieted!” Reverend Jessup pointed a finger at Minnie, who, despite the commotion, had nodded off in her wheelchair. “That woman shot me, and I expect her to pay the price.”

Kenny Gene piped up from the crowd of townsfolk who sat behind the railing. “I wouldn’t call that little scratch on your arm bein’ shot.” He stood up and stripped off his shirt, pointing to the red puckered wound on his shoulder. “This here is bein’ shot.”

“Woo-wee.” Rye Pickett leaned closer. “That’s some scar you got there, Kenny.”

Kenny nodded proudly. “Just your everyday, run-of-the-mill, law enforcement battle wound.” He looked at Dusty, who was standing next to the judge’s podium. “Ain’t that right, Sheriff?”

Dusty smiled and nodded. “That’s right, Kenny. All good sheriff deputies have them.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sakes!” Reverend Jessup snapped. “Who gives a shit about what happened to a hick deputy? I want justice, and I want it now.” A muttering of disbelief and condemnation rose up from the townsfolk, but the reverend paid little attention. With his toupee hanging and his rhinestone jacket bloodied, he’d given up caring about his holier-than-thou persona. “Not only did the old broad try to kill me, but the disreputable villain you call a sheriff took the camera away from my cameraman and chucked it out the window, where some fool ran off with it.”

Judge Seeley lifted a brow at Dusty, who only shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

The crowd laughed, and the reverend’s face became so red it matched the tattered scarf wrapped around his arm. “You think this is funny, you bunch of country hicks?” he roared. “No one laughs at Josiah Jessup and gets away with it. Once my television show becomes popular, I’ll have this town wiped off the map.”

A loud snort came from the front row. At first, Dusty thought it was Moses Tate. But then he realized that Moses had found his way over to Minnie and was now holding her hand in his gnarled one and shooting warning looks at the reverend. Dusty glanced back at the front row in time to see Elmer Tate stand and surprise everyone by speaking—soberly.

“Bramble has survived drought, dust storms, depressions, and Dalton Oil almost closing. It sure as hell will survive some big-mouthed preacher who looks nothin’ like the king of rock and roll.”

“Why, you good-for-nothing drunk—” Reverend Jessup started, but Wilma Tate jumped up and cut him off.

“Just who do you think you’re callin’ a drunk? Elmer might make me as angry as a wet hen at times, but nobody calls him a drunk but me.” She swept through the swinging gate and proceeded to whack the reverend over the head with her purse, the feathers on her hat quivering with her unleashed fury.

Dusty only stood there and smiled as the judge slammed down his mallet.

“Enough!” he boomed. The courtroom quieted, and Wilma gave the reverend one more good whack before going back to her seat. When Elmer hooked an arm around her and placed a resounding kiss on her cheek, she smiled like a shy schoolgirl.

A loud yawn pulled everyone’s attention over to Minnie. “So did you get things all figured out, Doyle?”

The judge sadly shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple, Min. You shot a man, and unless we have proof of malicious intent on the reverend’s part, I have no choice but to have Dusty here lock you up until you can post bail.”

“Now, wait one darn minute.” Dusty turned to the judge. “You can’t expect me to put a ninety-year-old woman in jail. Especially when it’s this man”—he pointed at the reverend—“who should be behind bars.”

The judge released his breath. “I couldn’t agree with you more. And after huntin’ with Minnie, I realize that if she wanted him dead, he would be. But that doesn’t change the facts. I’m afraid breakin’ the law is breakin’ the law.”

“But he entered Miss Hattie’s without invitation,” Dusty said.

“That’s right,” Mayor Sutter piped up. “And in the great state of Texas, we don’t put up with folks bustin’ into our homes uninvited.” There was a mumble of agreement before the reverend spoke.

“A bed-and-breakfast is not a private home. It’s a business. A business that allows the public to come and go as they please. I was merely an innocent victim looking for a room for the night.”

“Who just happened to have two cameramen and a bunch of strippers with him,” Dusty said dryly.

The reverend sent him a smug look. “I know nothing about strippers, Sheriff. And since they ran off without leaving their names, we can only assume that they were working at Miss Hattie’s.”

“We both know that Minnie didn’t hire strippers.”

The reverend cocked his head, the toupee drooping even more. “Then what would you call the male escorts, Sheriff?”

Dusty turned to Minnie. “You hired escorts?”

Minnie shrugged. “It wasn’t the first time, and I hope it’s not the last. Those boys sure can dance.”

While Dusty tried to figure out a reply for that, the judge sighed and lifted his mallet. “I set the bond for…”

The loud whoosh of helicopter blades drew everyone’s attention to the windows. The maple trees in the town hall courtyard blocked Dusty’s view, but he had a pretty good idea of who it was in the chopper. Rachel Dean confirmed it.

“Well, I’ll be. I think the cavalry has arrived.”

It took only a minute for the doors of the courtroom to be thrown open and a wall of Cates brothers to enter. Dusty had to admit the four men were an intimidating sight. Their broad shoulders, deep scowls, and low cowboy hats gave them the look of a gang of gunslingers just itching for a chance to draw. But it was their leader who held Dusty’s attention.

Even in high heels, Brianne barely reached her brothers’ shoulders. Yet the set of full lips and the steel in her blue eyes said that she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with. Dusty wanted to do a lot more than trifle with her. He wanted to sweep her up in his arms and kiss the daylights right out of her. Instead, he watched with pride as she turned to her brothers and issued an order.

“I can handle this.” Then she sashayed through the gates and straight up to the judge’s desk. “I’m here to defend Minnie Ladue.”

“You have evidence to prove that the shooting was justified?” the judge asked.

“No,” Brianne said. “But I have evidence to prove that Reverend Josiah Jessup is a swindling con artist.”

The reverend laughed. “You have nothing on me. In fact”—he pulled out his phone—“if anyone has any evidence of wrongdoing, it’s me.” He tapped the phone until he found a picture and then held it up. “This harlot has posed naked for—”

All the anger Dusty had kept inside since losing Emma was packed in the punch he gave the reverend. The reverend crumpled to the floor amid applause and the giggles of two old women Dusty hadn’t noticed until then. More than likely because his eyes had been on Brianne, who was now looking at him as if he’d lost his mind. And he figured he had. Lost it over a petite, dark-haired woman who had a thing for pirate tattoos and handcuffs. But before he could do more than send Brianne a smile, the two old women pushed through the gates.

“Well, I can’t say as I’m surprised, Josiah,” the one with the walker said in a quavery voice. “You always were an obstinate child. No doubt due to your milquetoast daddy sparing the rod.”

The other woman shuffled in behind her and looked down her nose at the reverend, who was still dazed from Dusty’s punch. “Thought you were gonna send us back to the old folks’ home, did ya?” She smiled. “Too bad for you that you left two nosy old women in your house unattended. After we gave all those accounting books we found over to that nice man with the F-B-I on his jacket, I think that the only person going somewhere is you.”

Sure enough, a couple of the federal agents who had worked with Dusty on the Alejandro case pushed their way between the Cates brothers.

“You old bats!” Reverend Jessup yelled as the two agents handcuffed him. “I should’ve declared you mentally insane when I had the chance. But don’t you worry, I’ll have the chance again.” As they led him out the side door, he yelled over his shoulder in his booming preacher voice. “Nothing can stop the king of kings!”

Rachel Dean shook her head. “More like the king of cuckoos.”

“The charges are dismissed.” The judge pounded his mallet. “And this hearing adjourned.”

With the excitement now over, the townsfolk shuffled out of the courtroom. Brianne started to follow them, when Dusty stopped her. With those blue eyes pinned on him, he felt a little light-headed and… happy as hell.

“How did you know about the women?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Rachel Dean mentioned them when I was cutting her hair, and I found it odd that such a sly man would offer his home to the elderly. After you arrested the reverend and Minnie”—she sent him a very sour look—“I did a little research and came up with the reverend’s telephone number in Malibu. As it turned out, his grandmother and great-aunt had already contacted the FBI about the accounting records they’d found, and there was a warrant out for the reverend’s arrest. I was more than happy to give them his exact location.”

“And the old gals? Why are they here?”

Brianne’s gaze followed the two older ladies who her brothers were helping out the doors. “They wanted to be here for the arrest, and I didn’t see the harm in sending the company jet to pick them up.”

He smiled. “I guess all that money does come in handy.” Dusty had been teasing, but the look that came over her face said she didn’t get the joke.

“I’m not going to apologize for my family having money, Dusty.” She lifted her chin. “Just like I’m not going to apologize for the picture that ended up on the Internet. Or the man that was in my bedroom. Or for falling in love with a pigheaded sheriff. I am who I am—a strong-willed woman who loves skydiving, cliff-jumping, cutting hair, and sex with men who aren’t afraid to get a little rowdy. And if you can’t handle that, then that’s your problem.”

She turned and strutted away. Dusty might’ve gone after her if a wrinkled hand hadn’t wrapped around his wrist.

“Don’t screw it up now.”

Dusty looked down at Minnie. “I can’t let her get away.”

“Of course you can’t. But now isn’t the time to make your case. Not when she’s all riled up and surrounded by a bunch of protective brothers. If you’re gonna convince her that you love her, you’ll need a grand plan that gets her full attention.” She shook her head. “Especially after the dumbass way you’ve been actin’.”

Dusty opened his mouth to deny the accusation but realized that he didn’t have a leg to stand on. So he waited until Brianne and her brothers had left the courtroom before he turned to Minnie and asked.

“So what’s this grand plan?”

Minnie shrugged. “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself. But I recommend giving her what most women want: Chills. Thrills. And a man who will love them forever.”

Chapter Thirty-four

G
OOD-BYES HAD NEVER BEEN
B
RI’S FORTE.
Which was why she’d slipped out of the Henhouse before the hens had gotten up that morning. Besides, it wasn’t really good-bye. She had no intentions of staying away from Miss Hattie’s, despite a certain sheriff who had broken her heart so thoroughly that she wondered if it would ever mend. And maybe it was best if it didn’t mend completely. Her broken heart would serve as a reminder of her mistake: never fall for a guy with a bad attitude and commitment issues. Of course, she wasn’t in the market for a boyfriend. There were too many things she wanted to accomplish first. She wanted to get her beautician’s license. She wanted to get a job. And she wanted to get her own place using her own money.

And it wasn’t like she was hurting for male attention.

Since her talk with Beau, all her brothers had been calling and setting up “play dates.” It seemed her brothers were trying to make up for leaving her out during their childhood. Brant wanted to teach her how to fly his helicopter. Billy wanted to teach her how to hunt and fish. And Beau refused to teach her bull riding but was willing to let her try her hand at mutton busting—whatever that was. Unfortunately, Beckett wouldn’t be around to teach Bri anything. He had left for boot camp the same day as Starlet had left for Nashville. And now Bri spent her nights praying for his safety.

And speaking of safety.

The vibrations of the Smart Car made Bri realize that she was going well over the speed limit. She started to lift her foot off the accelerator, when she glanced into the rearview mirror and noticed a car gaining on her. And not just any car, but a black-and-white with a row of flashing red lights.

If she had been in Culver County, she might’ve kept right on going. But she had planned on stopping by Bramble before she headed home to Dogwood and was right outside the city limits. And everyone knew that Sam Winslow’s foot had healed and he was back to work.

Sure enough, when Bri pulled over to the shoulder, it was Sheriff Winslow who stepped out of the car. Which didn’t explain the feeling of disappointment that settled in her stomach.

“Goin’ a mite bit fast, weren’t you, Willie?” the sheriff said as soon as Bri rolled down her window.

“It wasn’t my fault, Sheriff. You see—” She stopped mid-excuse. “No, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”