Cottonwood Creek was the kind of rodeo Dallas had always loved, the kind you did mostly for fun, but he was a professional rodeo cowboy now and he rarely had time for small shows like this one. It felt good to be there and perhaps that was the reason he won, making a splashy ride on a big spotted horse called Red Dawn. He calf roped well, but not good enough win any money.
As he rode out of the arena, he scanned the contestants’ bleachers for Patience but didn’t see her. He rode Lobo over to his trailer and unsaddled him, then went in search of her. He was headed for her little RV when he spotted her talking to Charlie near the production trailer. In the circle of yellow light beside the door, Dallas caught the grim look on Charlie’s face and knew that something was wrong.
“What’s going on?” he asked as he walked up, his adrenaline kicking in.
Charlie’s jaw hardened. “Someone broke into the trailer. They stole the entry fee money—over ten thousand dollars.”
“Sonofabitch!” Dallas blew out a breath and shoved back his hat. “Anybody see anything? Somebody going in or out of the trailer?”
“I’ve been asking around,” Patience said. “So far no one’s seen a thing.”
“How’d they get in?” Dallas glanced up the metal stairs to the trailer door.
“Crowbar, looks like. Bent the latch pretty good. Noise from the crowd would have covered the sound.”
Patience walked over to where they stood. “I’m going to keep asking around. Someone must have seen something.”
Dallas watched her walk away, wishing he didn’t like the view so much, his mood sliding even farther downhill. “Will your insurance cover this?”
Charlie shook his head. “It wasn’t my money, so no, it’s not covered.”
Dallas muttered a curse. Another problem for Charlie. More money he would have to come up with. Coincidence? There was always the chance. But Dallas didn’t think so. “You called the sheriff yet?”
Charlie nodded. “Got on my cell as soon as I saw the door pried open.”
Both of them climbed the stairs to inspect the broken latch, then opened the door and went in. The fireproof safe appeared to be the only thing missing. It was heavy, but not so heavy a man couldn’t haul it out.
“Probably threw something over it and just carried it down the stairs,” Charlie said.
“I can’t believe no one saw him.”
“Hey, guys!” Patience’s voice rang from the bottom of the stairs.
Dallas headed in that direction, Charlie close on his heels.
“I think maybe we got lucky.” Patience turned to a slender young woman who stood beside her. “This is Rae Ann Bonner. She lives here in Cottonwood Creek. She was one of the contestants in the barrel racing tonight. Rae Ann was leading her horse back to her truck when she saw a man coming out of the production trailer.”
“That’s right.” Rae Ann was no more than twenty, with light brown hair pulled back in a coil at her nape that fit neatly under the brim of her straw cowboy hat. “The guy was carrying something heavy, but I couldn’t see what it was. It was covered by a canvas tarp that hung down over the sides.”
“Would you recognize this guy if you saw him?” Charlie asked.
“Yes…no…not exactly. I mean I saw him real clear and all, but he was wearing baggy pants and grease paint. It was one of the rodeo clowns.”
Dallas’s adrenaline shot up. Charlie flicked him a meaningful glance, thinking exactly what Dallas was.
“We’ll, I’d say that narrows it down,” Charlie said.
Down to Junior Reese.
With the bad blood between him and Charlie, it couldn’t be anyone else.
“Do you know which clown it was?” Dallas asked, hoping the woman could be more specific.
“I heard the announcer mention his name, but I don’t remember what it was. He’s the one with the smiley makeup. I remember the other one wears a painted-on frown.”
Dallas couldn’t believe it. Cy wore the smiling face. Junior wore the frown. “Are you absolutely sure of that?”
“That’s the man I saw. It’s kind of hard to forget a guy in a clown suit.”
“And you’re sure the clown wore a painted on smile.”
“Yeah. I thought it was kind of funny, considering he was carrying such a heavy load and all.”
The sheriff’s car pulled up just then. The door cracked open and a short, well-built, dark-skinned deputy got out. His badge read
Raul Santiago.
“Thanks for coming,” Charlie said.
The entire scenario was repeated for the deputy’s benefit, while the young officer took notes on a water-stained spiral notepad.
Santiago flipped the pad shut and turned to Charlie. “I guess we’d better have a talk with that clown.”
“Good idea,” Dallas said. He started walking next to Charlie, and Patience fell in beside him.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He stopped and turned toward her, effectively blocking her way.
“I’m going with you—what did you think?”
“The hell you are. If Cy really took that money, there might be trouble. If there is, I don’t want you anywhere near.”
“What are you talking about? I found Rae Ann, didn’t I? If she’s going, then I’m going.”
“No way. You’re staying here where it’s safe. I won’t be long. Stay out of trouble until I get back.”
Patience opened her mouth to argue, then clamped down on whatever she planned to say. She didn’t like taking orders and especially not from him. She didn’t say anything more, but her face was red and he could see blood in her eye. Dallas ignored her. He wanted her here, where nothing bad could happen. He’d smooth her ruffled feathers later.
Leaving the production trailer, they made their way over to Cy’s camper. By now, the rodeo was over. Cy had washed off his face paint by the time the deputy approached with Dallas and Charlie but still wore his red-striped shirt, knee-length red leather chaps, and cleated running shoes. Santiago stood protectively next to Rae Ann Bonner and seeing him, Cy paused in the act of stashing his gear behind the front seat of his truck. His gaze went from Dallas and Charlie to the armed, uniformed officer.
“What’s up?”
“The entry fee money was stolen tonight,” Charlie told him, “sometime during the performance. A witness put you at the scene.”
“Me!” Cy looked thunderstruck. “What are you talking about? I was busy working the show.”
“Not all the time,” the deputy said. “Isn’t that right, Mr. Carson?”
Charlie looked apologetic. “The clowns are in the arena off and on but they’re behind the chutes during the events—all except the bull-riding, of course.”
“I didn’t steal any money. Come on, Charlie—you know me better than that.”
“Is that the man?” the deputy asked Rae Ann.
“I-I don’t know. I told you he had his clown makeup on.”
“Did you happen to notice what he was wearing?”
“I remember the red-striped shirt. But I couldn’t say what else.”
“Maybe it was Reese,” Cy said. “He’s a clown. He had the same opportunity I had.”
“The lady says the clown she saw coming out of the trailer wore the same face paint as you—a smiling face, not a frown. According to Mr. Carson, her description doesn’t fit the other clown.”
Cy looked stricken. “I didn’t do it, Charlie. I swear it.”
“Do you mind if we take a look inside your camper?” the deputy asked.
Cy shook his head. “No, go ahead.”
Santiago opened the camper door and went in. He came back out a few minutes later. “I didn’t see anything. If he took the box, it’s not here.”
“I didn’t take the goddamn box or anything else.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Jennings. It looks like you’ll have to come down to the station. There are a few more questions I need to—”
“Hold on a minute,” Charlie said. “I’ve changed my mind. I’ve decided not to press charges.”
Cy’s whole body seemed to sag with relief. The deputy looked uncertain, but knowing Charlie as he did, Dallas wasn’t all that surprised.
“Are you sure that’s what you want to do, Mr. Carson?”
“I don’t believe Cy Jennings stole that money. I’ve known the man for years and if he says he didn’t do it, then I believe him. Besides, I’ve had other problems lately. I got a hunch this is just one more.”
Dallas had to agree. Someone wanted to cause trouble for Charlie and it was highly unlikely the man was Cy Jennings.
“If anything turns up, we’ll be in touch,” Dallas said. “Thanks for your time, Deputy Santiago.”
“No problem.” He turned to Rae Ann Bonner. “I’ve got your phone number. If we need you again, we’ll be in touch.”
Rae Ann nodded and left with the deputy, heading back to her pickup and horse trailer.
As soon as the pair was gone, Cy turned to Charlie. “I didn’t steal that money, Charlie. I hope you believe that.”
“If I didn’t, I would have let him cart you off to jail.”
“Keep your eyes open, will you, Cy?” Dallas put in. “Somebody stole that money and whoever it was, tried to lay the blame on you.”
“I’ll keep my eyes open,” Cy said darkly. “You can count on that.”
Dallas clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks.” He and Charlie walked away from the camper, only to come up on Patience, who stood in the shadows just a few feet away. Recognizing the hard glint that appeared in Dallas’s eyes, Charlie gave him a wave and kept on walking.
“What happened?” Patience asked.
“I told you to stay away from here, dammit.”
“Well, you’re not my boss, Dallas Kingman—in case you didn’t know—and I was worried. Tell me what happened.”
Reining in his temper, Dallas lifted his hat and raked back his hair, then settled his hat back over his forehead. “Charlie doesn’t think Cy stole the money and neither do I.”
“But Rae Ann Bonner said—”
“We think someone was trying to frame him.”
“Like who?”
“Probably the same guy who rigged the hitch on the livestock truck.”
Patience seemed to ponder that. “That makes sense. Although it could have been one of the locals. Or a competitor who figured out where the money was being kept and decided he could use it more than Charlie.”
“Maybe.”
“But you don’t think so.”
“The guy dressed up to look like Cy. He had to know the business and he had to have this pretty well planned out.”
“True.” They walked together back toward their trailers. “There’s another possibility, you know.”
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“It’s hard to keep secrets around here. A lot of people know that livestock trailer didn’t turn over by accident. Shari says they’re saying Charlie’s troubles might be more than coincidence.”
“So?”
“So maybe whoever stole the money was just jumping on the bandwagon—taking the cash, laying the blame on Cy, and making Charlie think it was the same guy who sabotaged his truck.”
Dallas tossed her a long, discerning glance. “That’s not bad. Sometimes you’re even smarter than you look.”
Patience smiled. “So you think I might be right?”
“It’s possible. Definitely possible.” And if that was the case, Dallas had a good idea where to start looking. The same place his instincts had led him the moment he had heard about the theft.
Junior Reese.
Reese would have known how to copy Cy’s makeup and owned very similar clothes. And he hated Charlie with a passion.
The big question was, if Junior
was
guilty, how the hell were they going to prove it?
The sun was well up, beginning to heat the inside of the trailer. According to her father, Tyler was still in Boston so she could stop worrying. Patience finished working on the next-to-last section of her thesis and leaned back in the padded vinyl booth.
The paper was basically done. Next to it, the journal beckoned. She hadn’t tuned in to her grandmother’s adventures in over two weeks, not since her digging had lead to the discovery of what she believed to be Lucky Sims’s murder.
She had skimmed the pages, of course, looking for more information, but Addie had rarely mentioned Lucky again, except to say how much she missed her. And she never found out what had happened to her friend.
Patience cracked open the faded tapestry covers of the book, savoring the connection to a long-dead relative she admired. The month was September. Addie’s life was changing now, heading in a new direction, her words filled with the first glow of love.
Sam Starling.
Patience turned the pages, saw the name again and again.
Sam and I went to a moving picture show. It was called
The Lonely Villa
and my favorite actress, Mary Pickford, was the star. We had the most wonderful time.
Sam took me to supper at this funny little restaurant, the Cat’s Paw Inn. A man was strumming the guitar while we ate, and afterward, Sam went up and borrowed it for a while. He can really play that guitar.
Patience smiled as she submerged herself once more in Addie Holmes’s journey.
Me and Sam took the train together, all the way to Dodge City, Kansas. I should have gone with Betsy and Star. They were leaving with the rest of the gals the next day, but Sam was so darned persistent that I finally said yes. We left a day early just so Sam could ride in a rodeo in Abilene. He won first prize money and bought me a fancy yellow satin western shirt I saw in the mercantile window. I worried a little that if I went alone with him on the train, Sam might get the wrong idea, but he was a perfect gentleman.
I wonder what Lucky would have said if she knew I was falling head over heels in love with him.
The mention of Lucky Sims’s name turned Patience’s thoughts away from Addie and Sam back to Lucille Sims’s disappearance. Had the girl really been murdered? And if she were, was the man who had been following the rodeos the man who had killed her?
Dallas had mentioned the possibility of other rodeo-related murders that might have occurred at the time. More than ninety years ago, information wasn’t as accessible, wasn’t traded the way it was today. It certainly could have happened.
And it didn’t seem right just to let the matter slide. The first chance Patience had, she would do a little research, see what she could turn up. For years, she’d been studying the cowgirls of early rodeo. Her sources were extensive—in print, over the Net, and through contacts she had made during the course of her work. Perhaps she could find out if any other unexplained deaths in the rodeo community had been reported during, say, the ten-year period following Lucille’s death.
She would begin by calling Constance Foster in the historical section of the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, Texas. She had worked with Connie before. She could also phone Mabel Thompson at the 101 Ranch Museum in Oklahoma. For decades, the 101 was one of the biggest Wild West Shows in the country and Patience had worked a lot with Mabel.
If she got lucky, maybe someone would come up with something. At the very least, they could help her put together a list of towns where rodeos were performed during those years. Perhaps she could get someone in each town to check the police blotter in the local paper of the day, see what might have been reported.
Patience leaned back against the seat of the dinette, feeling a tug of excitement at the prospect of exploring a ninety-year-old mystery.
The journal sat open on the table.
Patience smiled as she returned her attention to the pages, eager to continue reading the virtues of Sam Starling, cowboy extraordinaire—who was stealing her grandmother’s heart.
She didn’t notice the time, engrossed as she was in the journal. It was perhaps an hour later that a soft knock sounded at the door. Patience set the journal aside, got up, and went over to open it. She was only a little surprised to see Stormy Weathers, hat in hand, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
“Hi, P.J. I was hoping you’d still be here.”
“Hi, Stormy. Come on in. Excuse the mess. I’ve got papers strewn all over the place.” Hurriedly, Patience began picking up her research files, moving the journal out of the way, and shutting down her computer.
“I didn’t mean to get in the middle of your work.” By now, nearly everyone knew Patience was working on her thesis. Surprisingly, most of them thought it was kind of cool.
“You’re not getting in the middle of anything. Sit down. I was just about to quit work anyway.” Stormy folded his lanky frame into the seat of the dinette and Patience walked over to the stove of the tiny kitchen. “You want a cup of coffee or something?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
Patience poured herself a fresh cup, then sat down in the dinette across from him. “I kind of figured you might show up here, sooner or later.”
“Yeah, well, I was kind of hoping…you know…that you might be able to help.”
Patience took a sip of her coffee. It tasted bitter now from sitting on the stove for so long. “Shari told me you asked her to marry you. I presume that’s why you’re here.”
Stormy tossed his hat up behind the seat. His sandy hair looked disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it. There were faint purple smudges beneath his hazel eyes. “So what do you think?”
Patience answered carefully. She loved Stormy like a brother. She could see the pain etched into his features and her heart ached for him. “To begin with, I know Shari loves you and I know that you love her. It’s just…well, it’s just that she has plans for the future that don’t include getting married. Maybe in time that will change but right now—”
“So you’re telling me that loving each other isn’t enough. I always thought it would be.”
“Shari wants to go back to school. She wants a different sort of life than you want, Stormy. Maybe after she gets her degree—”
“I love her, Patience. I want to marry her.”
“You’re a cowboy, Stormy. You love rodeo. Shari says that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.”
“So what? A lot of cowboys get married. They have a home, a couple of kids. My friend Pete Mathers—”
“Your friend Pete Mathers represents everything Shari doesn’t want.” Patience reached over and caught his hand, felt the tension running through him. “Give her time to do what she needs to, Stormy. If you’re still interested after that, maybe the two of you can work something out.”
But it was about as likely as working something out with Dallas. It wasn’t going to happen. At least she and Dallas knew it.
“So that’s it, then? Nothing I say is going to change her mind?”
She sighed. “I’m afraid it isn’t.”
Stormy swallowed and nodded, shoved himself out of the dinette. He didn’t say more, just grabbed his hat and headed for the door. “I appreciate your talking to me.”
“I wish I could have helped, I really do.”
“Yeah, so do I.” Stormy left the trailer and she didn’t see him again that day. She didn’t see Dallas, either. He’d been keeping to himself more and more. They hadn’t made love since the morning she had spent in the bunk in his RV. She had a feeling it had something to do with what was happening between Shari and Stormy.
Patience and Dallas were in the same situation—more so, since Patience’s life had never been rodeo, the way Shari’s had.
At least she and Dallas weren’t in love.
Her stomach squeezed as she admitted the lie to herself. Dallas might not be in love, but Patience was. Deeply, stupidly in love with exactly the wrong man.
Patience took a calming breath. She needed some air, needed to clear her head. She left the trailer and wandered away off toward the flat-topped buttes in the distance, part of her wishing the summer was already at an end.
When he wasn’t trying to console his best friend, Dallas was trying not to think of Patience. In the past few weeks, he had let himself get too close. She’d be gone in a couple more weeks and he was already in over his head. Seeing the pain in Stormy’s face warned him not to make the same mistake his friend had made.
You’ve got to pull back
, he told himself.
Get things back in their proper perspective
. But it wasn’t that easy to do.
Worrying about Charlie helped distract him. Junior Reese and the stolen money loomed heavy on his head. If there had been a shred of evidence, they could have confronted him. But the woman, Rae Ann Bonner, had been specific in her ID, and according to her, the man who stole the money couldn’t have been Junior Reese.
Still, Dallas’s gut told him it was.
After the robbery, Deputy Santiago had gone to see Reese at the Westward Ho Motel. Junior had denied any knowledge of the theft and refused to let the officer into his room without a search warrant.
Well, Dallas didn’t need a warrant. Just a credit card to open the door, or a window Reese might have left unlatched. All he had to do was figure out which room Junior was staying in.
The saddle bronc section was over. Garbed in their clown gear, Junior and Cy rushed into the arena and began entertaining the crowd.
As Dallas headed through the darkness toward his truck, he hastily unbuckled his chaps, opened the door of the pickup, and tossed them behind the seat. Then he slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine.
He was driving across the uneven ground behind the arena when Patience’s slim shape appeared in the yellow beam of his headlights. Dallas softly cursed. He rolled down his window, but didn’t turn off the ignition.
“Great ride tonight,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’ve got some business in town.”
“I’m kind of hungry. I thought maybe we could go get something to eat.”
“Like I said, I’ve got some business I have to do.”
Patience didn’t budge, just gave him a long, knowing glance. “You don’t fool me, Dallas Kingman. I know the business you’re planning to do. You’re going to Junior’s motel room to look for that money and I want to go with you.”
Dallas’s fingers tightened around the steering wheel. “How the hell would you know where I’m going?”
“Because I’m beginning to know how you think. And besides, that’s what I’d do.”
“Yeah, well, even if I am, you aren’t going. There might be trouble and I don’t want you involved.”
“Too bad. If you don’t take me, I’ll find Junior and tell him where you went.”
“Bullshit. You wouldn’t do that to Charlie.”
Patience gave an exasperated sigh. “Look, if you take me with you, I can help. I can find out which room Reese is in and I can keep watch while you’re making the search.”
Dallas glanced down at his wristwatch. Time was slipping away. Dammit, he didn’t want to take her with him, but she probably would have a better chance of finding out Junior’s room than he would. “Get in.”
Patience hustled around to the passenger side of the truck and climbed up on the black leather seat. They took off for the motel, which wasn’t far from the rodeo grounds, and when the sign appeared, he pulled off the highway into the darkness at the edge of the parking lot.
The light was on in the motel office. Through the window, he could see a dark-haired clerk, standing behind the front desk.
“Leave this to me.” Patience cracked open the door and jumped down from the seat.
“Just be careful,” Dallas warned, nervous just watching her crossing the pavement.
She wasn’t gone long. When she returned, she motioned to him to join her. She was grinning, he saw, dangling a room key from the end of her finger.
“How’d you do that?”
“Told him I was Junior’s girlfriend and I wanted to surprise him when he came back to the room after the rodeo.”
Dallas felt a tug of admiration. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They crossed the road and disappeared into the shadows along the building. Dallas waited in the darkness while Patience used the key to open the door. As soon as she stepped inside, Dallas slipped in to join her.
“Close the curtains,” he said.
Patience was already in the process. “I’ll keep an eye on the parking lot.”
He nodded. “If Reese shows up, we’ll go out the back window.”
Patience leaned forward to peer through the crack in the curtains. The room was inexpensive, just a couple of twin beds with a nightstand in between, a bathroom with a shower over the tub, a water-stained toilet, and rusty sink. As a clown, Junior didn’t have much of a name and his pay was minimal.
Dallas quickly scanned the interior. Junior’s makeup kit sat open on the dresser, greasepaint gleaming in red, orange, purple, and blue. The dresser drawers were empty. Reese hadn’t bothered to unpack and a canvas bag still held most of his clothes. The bag contained clean underwear and socks, a pair of toenail clippers, a few other personal items, and not a dollar of stolen money.
A search of the bathroom turned up nothing, just a toothbrush, razor, and some shaving soap. Dallas moved to the closet and slid open the doors. Metal wheels squeaked as they moved along the track. A couple of shirts and a pair of worn jeans, along with a couple of pairs of oversize Wranglers next to the scuffed boots on the floor.
A pile of dirty clothes had been tossed into a corner. Dallas reached down and rifled through them. A thin white cotton T-shirt caught his eye. He tugged it out of the pile and held it up for closer inspection.
“Take a look at this.”
Patience turned away from the window and walked over to where he held up the shirt. “What is it?”
“See this yellow greasepaint on the front? It’s kind of smudged, like he got it on there when he pulled the T-shirt off over his head.”
“So?”
Dallas smiled grimly. “Junior doesn’t wear yellow face paint. He paints his face in darker colors, blue and purple mostly, outlined with orange and red. Cy uses the brighter shades—including yellow.”