“Would ya like me to saddle ‘ira?” Cecil asked.
Jodie saw the saddle straddling a nearby rail. “No, I can take it from here.”
The cowboy bobbed his head and self-consciously added, “Me and the boys are glad to have you back from those foreign places, Miss Jodie. Texas is where you belong, not out there.”
He blushed even more when she smiled at him, then had to hurry away to recover. Jodie wondered if that was the most Cecil had ever said to a woman.
She took time to make friends with the horse, feeding him the carrot she’d brought and running her hands over his strong neck and back. It had been so long. Too long! What had been her purpose in denying herself this delight?
She’d just finished saddling up and was leading Tony out of the corral when a familiar white police patrol cruiser, one with a bright blue stripe down its side and the Briggs County insignia on the front door,
pulled into the parking area abutting the pens. Jodie’s whole body went on alert.
Her first thought was of Rio–or actually her second. Because when Tate stepped out of the car, it wasn’t fear or worry that caused a fine tremor to attack her limbs. There was something about him that made her overreact—the way he looked, the way he moved. Then apprehension about Rio swamped everything else.
She made herself greet him warmly. “Tate! Hello!”
Was that a little too warmly? She’d never spoken to him so enthusiastically before.
He looked a bit taken back, but recovered quickly. “Jodie,” he’ said closing the distance between them. “I didn’t expect to see you out here.”
Jodie now had some insight into how Cecil probably felt all the time—total and complete insecurity about what to say and do next. Every part of her felt awkward. The way she stood, how she held her head. Her fingers tightened on the reins as the big horse stamped impatiently at her side. “I I was just about to go for a fide. Do you fide?” she asked, then laughed uncomfortably. “I suppose that’s a silly question after having known you for so many years, but I never thought to ask before. I”
She might have gone on forever if he hadn’t cut in. “I fide some,” he said, “but not like you. I never had much access to a horse.”
“You should come out when you have some free time. I’ll—we’llmwe can go for a fide.”
Tate looked at her oddly again, as if puzzled by her uncharacteristic chirpiness. She cleared her throat and tried for normalcy. “Is it Rafe you want to see? He’s around somewhere. Cecil talked to him just a little while ago. He probably knows where he is.”
Tate glanced at the slim cowboy, who had bent to check the shoes on a horse. “I’ll ask him in a minute. I wouldn’t mind havin’ a word with you, though, if you’re not in too much of a hurry.”
Her stomach tightened. “Is here all right?” she asked. “Or … or we could go over there.” She motioned to an old wooden bench that some of
the cow boys had long ago propped tgainst the workshop wall. Wild grasses struggled for survival along its base, but they’d been beaten down so’ many times by booted feet that they’d just about given up.
“Over there’s fine,” Tate said, and after waiting for her to tie the reins to a post, fell into step behind her as she nervously led the way.
Did he know? Had he somehow found out that she was helping Rio?
Jodie perched uneasily on the rough bench. She wasn’t surprised when Tate continued to stand. The better to interrogate her? He’d been a big-city policeman in Dallas. Was that the way they taught their of-fleers to intimidate a suspect?
“I came to tell you Rio Walsh was spotted in Fort Stockton,” he said. “And he’s headed this way. In fact, he’s probably somewhere around here right now.” Tate paused. “You knew him pretty well.” Quite an understatement, Jodie thought. “What do you think he’ll do?”
He didn’t know! He didn’t know that she– “Ah…” She had to answer before too much time passed. “The Rio I knew would keep going. He’d cross the border at some point and hide out in Mexico. That is, if he actually did what you’re accusing him of doing.”
“I never said he did a thing. All he’s wanted for is questioning.”
“Someone obviously thinks he did it.”
Tare had left his hat in the car. To signal he was on a friendly call? He sounded very official, though, when he replied, “No charges have been filed yet.”
Since the moment had presented itself, Jodie decided
to make use of it. “You know I don’t believe he hurt this girl. Who says he did, anyway? Her family? And who are they? What are they like?” She fired off the questions as nrnchalantly as she could. One slip and Tate would pick up on it. But she had to be sure that at least some of the things Rio had told her were true. And Tate was the perfect person to ask. “I mean,” she continued, “are they like us? Like the Parkers?”
He smiled slightly. “Would you be disappointed if they weren’t?”
“Not Jn the least,” she denied, her chin lifting. “They’re people of influence, I’d say,” Tate answered seriously, frowning. “Sheriff up there seems pretty tight with ‘em. I don’t know much more than that.”
“What about the girl? Is she…”
“It looks worse for her now than it did before.” There was a small silence as Jodie lowered her eyes. To her surprise she felt Tate reach out to lightly smooth the hair at the crown of her head. Her breath caught until his hand moved away.
“You don’t have anything to feel badly about, Jo-die,” he said quietly. “You didn’t know the kind of person he was. He fooled you, like he’s probably fooled a lot of people over time.”
Jodie was afraid to look up, afraid of what he might read in her eyes. “That’s what you don’t understand. I’m sorry for the girl, but I still don’t think Rio hurt her.”
“If she dies, he’ll have to answer for it,” Tate said firmly.
Jodie’s head lifted. “What if he could prove he
didn’vdo it? ” The instant the words popped out she wished them back. She a[tempted a hasty repair. ” It’s called an alibi, isn’t it? Wbuldn’t it only stand to reason that he might have been somewhere else when the assault occurred? Just because he was seeing her doesn’t mean–’ ‘
“He’s not doing himself any favors by disappearing. If he has an alibi he should tell Sheriff Preston. Running away is the act of a guilty man.”
Jodie did all she could to keep her gaze steady. But as she continued to look at him, she bexame lost in the intricacies of the tiny flecks of amber scattered through the dark caramel of his eyes. And the way those eyes drew attention in an already handsome face. A face that reflected strength of character and strength of will. Finn jaw, straight nose, serious mouth. She wondered what it would take to tease that mouth out of its seriousness and into passionate life.
A horse whinnied, making her start. It was Tony, calling her to their ride. He’d grown impatient waiting.
She jumped up and in her haste collided with Tate. He reached out to steady her. His hands were on her arms, his chest against her chest, his thigh against her thigh.
Their closeness lasted only seconds, but Jodie’s mind carded an imprint of everything about him. His compelling warmth, the hardness of his body—all coiled muscle and sturdy bone—the light fresh scent of his aftershave. Coming so soon after her earlier thoughts, she couldn’t prevent glancing at his mouth. Or speculating that all she needed to
do was rise up on tiptoe and. He smiled—warm, yet controlled—and Jodie pushed away from him.
“I … I have to go,” she managed inarticulately. “Tony…” ‘
His smile disappeared. “Of course. I didn’t mean to delay you. Tell Tony I was the one who made you late.”
Tell Tony? Jodie looked at Tate in confusion, then realizing his mistake, motioned to the waiting gelding. “That’s Tony,” she said with quiet amusement.
Tate followed her gaze, stiffened slightly, then laughed. “Still, offer my apology,” he said. And with a nod he went to check on Rafe’s whereabouts with Ceci}.
TATE’S HOUSE was only a few blocks from the station, making it easy to get back and forth. Convenience had been one of its selling points, but since becoming sheriff a year and a half ago, he might just as well have commandeered a cell in the new jail for his use. He seemed to spend more time at the station or out on calls than he ever spent at home. Something was always happening. Something always needed his personal attention.
He let himself into the small two-bedroom house. He hadn’t changed the place much since moving in seven years ago. The same curtains that had come with the house still decorated the windows; he’d hung a few pictures, but had stopped with the intention of finding some he liked more. He’d added a comfortable chair, a TV, a kitchen table. One
bedroom was properly furnished the other set up an informal office. Not exactly warm and welcoming, but familiar.
He left his hat and service belt on a table by the door and shucked everything else on his way to the shower. One of the joys of life, he now deemed these precious moments of solitude, when hot water and soap could wash away the frustrations of his office, the inconsistencies of man, and the sometimes downright meanness shown by one human to another. Keeping the peace was his life’s work. But sometimes, for a few minutes, it was nice to get away from such weighty responsibility. No phones, no radio calls, only the hot soap-scented water.
He stood with his back to the shower head and let the stinging spray ease the tightness in his neck and shoulders, keeping his mind purposefully blank. Steam filled the room, and when after ten minutes he shut off the water, it was like waking up in a warm all-enveloping cloud.
Slowly the mist cleared and along with mental clarity came a symbol of his day-to-day life—a ringing telephone. It was the station. He was needed.
With methodical care Tare donned a fresh uniform. Had Jack found the routine as wearing as he did? On patrol in Dallas, then later as a deputy here, his free time had pretty much been his own to spend as he wanted. There were callins, but not every hour, every day, seven days a week. Jack seemed to have thrived under these conditions. For Tate it was beginning to chafe.
Because of the new position he’d been offered?
Because he was having a hard time reconciling himself to such a Spartan existence?
Jodie Parker had offhandedly invited him to go riding with her. Even if she’d been serious, would he ever have found the time to actually do it?
Jodie.
His hands paused while adjusting his dark brown tie. He remembered what it had been like, for a fleeting moment, to hold her close. She’d always seemed so exotically out of place in a harsh land like West Texas. With that abundant copper-red hair–even if it was now short—her pale skin and jewellike yellowish-green eyes.
He remembered her from the time she was eleven or twelve and rode the school bus he drove the semester before he enrolled in college. A gangly little kid with major attitude.
In his arms that afternoon, she’d been all soft and warm and, though still delicately made, rounded enough to interfere with a man’s thought processes. Which she very well knew. Which she’d very well known since adolescence!
Only, she’d never tried it with him before. Not that she had today, either, he corrected himself. Today she’d been . what? Her reactions could be described as a bit on the questionable side, if he had a mind to be suspicious.
The problem was, he couldn’t read her the way he could other people. Was it because he had to fight through his own emotions before he could even begin to touch on hers?
He laughed again as he thought of Tony. The horse!
But what wasn’t funny vas the flash of jealousy he’d experienced when he thought Tony was a man.
Why would he be jealbus? He had no claim on Jodie and no reason even to press for one.
As his mother had said, they were town and the Parkers were ranch. The Parkers had a history in the area longer than almost everyone else who lived here. They were West Texas!
Still he’d felt it, which was something he was going to have to examine more closely in the none-too-distant future.
He pinned his badge just above the left pocket flap of his shirt. An old-fashioned five-pointed Texas star that Jack hadn’t been able to bring himself to replace. Tradition still had merit, Jack had said, even in a modern world with modern uniforms.
After collecting the rest of his gear Tate strode Out to his patrol car and drove to the jail, where trouble brewed once again.
JUST a FEW SHORT DAYS ago, Jodie reflected as she rode slowly back to ranch headquarters, she’d had two principal worries: dealing with Mae and resolving her own lack of direction in life. Now, two unexpected new difficulties had been added’ to the mix: she was undeniably attracted to the local sheriff, and she was harboring someone he and others might soon label a murderer.
If she dies, he’ll have to answer for it. Tate’s words rang in Jodie’s ears.
What would Mae and the other members of her family say if they knew what she was doing? Probably
swear that she was beyond all hope. But now that she was committed, wasn’t it important to see it through? Mae had urged her to turn her back on her irresponsible ways, to have the backbone to pick something and stick to it. Well, this wasn’t something she would have picked voluntarily, but did that make it any less profound? An old friend needed her help. An old . friend.
To that end she needed a plan, and while riding she’d come up with a scheme she hoped would work. It all hinged on her ability to retrieve a listing of the ranches in the West Texas Regional Ranching Association from either Mac’s office or the ranch’s business office. She couldn’t go in and just ask for it. She’d have to “borrow” a copy.
Tomorrow. Early.
Slip in, slip out.
And pray she went unnoticed.
DUSK HAD FALLEN by the time Jodie reined Tony in at the corral. The cowboys who’d been out all day were coming in, as well, hungry as bears for the dinner Axel had prepared for them. Plenty of meat and beans, fried potatoes and chili peppers, topped off with corn bread or sourdough biscuits, and a dessert of cake or cobbler.
The cook house had a long trestle table that the four cowboys who called ranch headquarters home clustered around to eat. Sometimes Rare and Morgan joined them, sometimes not. This evening Jodie saw neither.