Sovereign Sheriff

by Cassie Miles

  Maggie waved as they drew closer. “We’ve been having a great time. Nasim showed me some karate moves.”

  “Krav Maga,” Nasim said. “It is a hand-to-hand combat technique developed in Israel. Efficient and potentially lethal.”

  Jake dismounted at the edge of the driveway. “Nothing good can come from my baby sister knowing lethal combat techniques.”

  “What if I’m attacked?” She braced herself. “Come on, Wolfman, make a move.”

  “Nasim taught me the same moves,” Saida whispered to him. “I’d advise against trying to attack Maggie. You could be walking sideways for a week.”

  “You win, sis.” Jake raised both hands in surrender. “Would you mind taking care of the horses while the princess and I go through these photos?”

  “Chicken,” she taunted. “You’re a big, old, fat chicken.”

  “You know what Mama always says.”

  Maggie dropped her fighting stance. “Better a wise chicken than a dead duck.”

  “Come, Maggie.” Nasim picked up the reins. “I will help with the horses.”

  Without an argument, she joined him and they headed toward the barn. Never at a loss for something to say, Maggie chattered happily while Nasim nodded and occasionally gave a snort.

  Jake shot a glance toward Saida. “Should we be worried that they’re getting along so well?”

  “Nasim is a natural teacher. When I was growing up, he enjoyed our lessons as much as I did. I keep telling him that he should open a school in Jamala, but he’s not interested in business.”

  “Does he have kids?”

  “Four sons, five daughters. Twelve grandchildren.” Saida gave him a smile. “Even with a brood like that, he keeps pushing me to get married and to reproduce.”

  Just like Maggie. Now, Jake was certain that the two of them were arranging time for him and Saida to be alone with each other. As if such a marriage would work? Sure, there was a heavy-duty attraction between them. But he wasn’t planning to leave Wyoming, not after he’d finally gotten himself elected as sheriff. And he couldn’t imagine the princess living here.

  In the dining room, they focused on the investigation. Saida had printed out selected photos that Danny had taken and she spread ten of them across the tabletop.

  “These are the best group shots,” she said. “I’ve noticed several people who appear multiple times. The most obvious is Big Burt Maddox.”

  “Not a surprise.” Of course, Maddox would be snooping around, watching for ways that Jake would fail as sheriff.

  She pointed to another face in the crowd. “This man shows up four times.”

  “Chad Granger. I noticed him the first time I looked at Danny’s pictures. If I’d acted then, questioned him, I might have been able to arrest him before he ran.”

  He pointed to a long-faced cowboy. “This guy works for Maddox. Can’t remember his name.”

  “Here’s an anomaly.” She indicated a small, gray-haired woman with bright eyes. “This lady shows up on three different occasions.”

  “She has a quilt store.” Jake didn’t really think this elderly woman was a criminal mastermind. “She’s probably just a fan of royalty, but it wouldn’t hurt to pay her a visit tomorrow.”

  “May I come with you?”

  “You bet. If she likes royals, she’ll be thrilled to meet a famous princess.”

  “There’s no need to be snarky.” She drew herself up and put on her regal expression. “Many people are fascinated by royal families.”

  “I get it,” he said. “Ceremony is important. It provides continuity.”

  She pointed out many others. Some were reporters or paparazzi; it made sense for them to be on the scene. Others were part of the royal entourage. A couple of them were security people or employees at the Wind River Ranch and Resort.

  Saida pointed out a man who stayed far to the edge of the crowd as though trying not to be noticed. In another photo, he had turned slightly away. “Do you know him?”

  Jake studied the photograph of a broad-shouldered man with thick, dark hair and deep-set eyes. “There’s something real familiar about him. I think he owns a ranch outside town.”

  “His name?”

  “I’m not sure.” While campaigning, Jake had met many of the locals. “I can ask Wheeler. He’s lived here all his life.”

  “He looks like he’s trying to avoid the camera.”

  Jake had made a mistake by not going after Granger right away. He didn’t intend to falter again. “We need to find this man. Right away.”

  Maggie and Nasim returned to the house. She bounded up to the table. “These are the photos from that paparazzo guy, right?”

  Jake pointed to the mystery man. “Do you recognize him?”

  “I think so.” She leaned down and squinted. “Earlier this summer, I filled in at the café in Dumont for one of the waitresses who was having a baby. I met just about everybody.”

  “Well?” he asked.

  “He’s a rancher. Freeman. His last name is Freeman.” She looked up at her brother. “You had a phone call while you were gone. I guess your cell wasn’t getting reception.”

  “Did they leave a message?”

  “He wanted you to call back as soon as possible. His name is A.J. or A.G., something like that.”

  “The A.G.,” he said. “Attorney General. The Attorney General for the state of Wyoming?”

  “Oh, wow.” Maggie frowned. “He didn’t say he was anybody important.”

  But he was. Jake doubted the Attorney General was calling with good news.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While Jake went upstairs to his bedroom to make his phone call, Saida decided it was a good time to check the messages on her own cell. In the living room, she sank into a comfortable-looking chair near the fireplace. As soon as her butt hit the cushions, she realized she was a bit sore. Her usual exercise regimen didn’t include horseback riding or sitting on hard granite ledges. She adjusted her position, not wanting to be accused of acting like the princess who was so delicate she couldn’t sleep if there was a pea under ten mattresses.

  Her message box was full. Friends from California had tried to reach her, and she was tempted to call some of her girlfriends back and tell them about Jake. But how could she explain? Most of the women she knew wouldn’t understand if she told them that she’d rode into the Wyoming sunset and meditated on the edge of a cliff with a bare-chested Arapaho sheriff.

  They might be jealous. Saida smiled to herself. If she emailed one of the photos she’d taken of Jake, her friends would be gasping with envy. But she didn’t want to share that moment.

  The time she’d spent with Jake was deeply intimate, even more private than making love. When she’d taken off her jewelry and her designer jacket, she’d shed the identity she presented to the world. Completely vulnerable, she’d exposed her fears and her innermost hopes. And he’d held her, kept her safe. She couldn’t entirely explain how she felt, much less chat about it with friends.

  Scrolling down the list, she skipped to a message from Callie McGuire and returned that call. Since Callie might be contacting her in an official capacity as Assistant to the Secretary of Foreign Affairs, Saida used a formal tone. “This is Princess Saida Khalid.”

  “Thanks for returning my call,” Callie said. “I have a big favor to ask.”

  A favor? That explained why Callie was calling instead of Efraim. He refused to acknowledge that Saida could be useful in any way, and he certainly wouldn’t request her help. “How can I help, Callie?”

  “The Cattlemen’s Ball is tomorrow in Cheyenne. Someone from the COIN nations should make an appearance.”

  “Why?”

  “A lot of important oil people will be there, people your brother has contacted.”

  “I know very little about my brother’s business. Efraim or one of the other princes should handle this.”

  “It’s not a business meeting,” she said. “This is a matter of creating goodwill and assu
ring future partners that COIN is a viable partner.”

  Goodwill was Saida’s forte. She knew how to be charming and create a positive impression, but she didn’t want to abandon the investigation. “I came here to find my brother. Not to attend a ball.”

  Callie paused for a moment. “Efraim thinks it’s important for you to smooth over any concerns investors might have.”

  “What kind of concerns?”

  “Your brother’s disappearance has created problems. There’s a power struggle in Jamala.”

  Saida fired a glance at Nasim who stood in the doorway between the dining room and the kitchen, keeping an eye on her and Maggie at the same time. If Jamala was in turmoil, he should have told her. To Callie, she said, “I’ll think about your request and call you back.”

  Saida bolted from the chair, too irritated to pay attention to the twinges from sore muscles. The heels of her brogues thumped on the hardwood floor as she charged toward Nasim. “Why didn’t you tell me what was happening in Jamala?”

  His nostrils flared. “The situation does not rise to a level of importance.”

  “Callie McGuire seems to think it’s important.” Saida would never raise her voice to Nasim; she respected him too much. “I expect Efraim to treat me like a brainless child, but I thought you would trust me.”

  “I have confidence in you, Saida.”

  “Tell me. Is there a power struggle?”

  “Your brother has enemies in Jamala.”

  She didn’t ask for names or affiliations; she was too distant from the situation. In the years since her father died and Amir took over the business of ruling their country, she’d only been home for a few vacations—times that had been filled with parties instead of attending council meetings.

  “There isn’t much I can do,” she said, “but you should be in Jamala, watching over our interests.”

  “My duty is to protect you.”

  Saida glanced toward Maggie who was watching this exchange with wide, curious eyes. For a moment, Saida considered switching to Greek or Arabic, languages that both she and Nasim spoke fluently. But Saida didn’t need to keep secrets from Jake’s sister.

  “Callie wants me to attend a ball in Cheyenne,” she said. “To make it look to investors that everything is just fine in Jamala. Do you agree?”

  “Amir has worked hard to develop the oil business. He would want you to attend this event.” Nasim took out his cell phone. “I will make arrangements.”

  She stayed his hand before he could start punching in numbers. “There’s only one way I’ll agree to this. You must return to Jamala and put things in order. I don’t know the political ins and outs, but you do.”

  “What of your safety?”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You didn’t seem so worried about me when I went riding off with Jake this afternoon.”

  “I trust Sheriff Jake Wolf,” he said staunchly. “However, you are my responsibility.”

  “You’re needed in Jamala.” She lifted her chin. “Don’t make me issue a royal command.”

  He gave a snort. Then he placed his right hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Yes, my princess.”

  Jake came down the staircase and strode into the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

  Maggie gave him the rundown, starting with trouble in Jamala and ending with Saida attending the Cattlemen’s Ball.

  “As it turns out,” Jake said, “I’ll be going to Cheyenne, too. The state attorney general requested my presence. There’s been a lot of bad publicity associated with what’s been going on here, and I need to smooth some feathers.”

  “Excellent,” Nasim said. “Sheriff Wolf will accompany Princess Saida on a private jet. You will depart tomorrow at four o’clock. I shall make hotel reservations.”

  She watched Jake for his reaction. He might not want to be her bodyguard. The first time they had this conversation, he’d said he was too busy and preoccupied.

  He smiled at her. “Excellent.”

  JAKE WOULD BE LEAVING town tomorrow. On a private jet? To attend a fancy-dress ball? Escorting a princess? He pushed all that stuff out of his head. Tomorrow, he’d worry about it.

  Tonight, there was still work to do and not a minute to waste. With Saida in the passenger seat, he drove his SUV out of the driveway. His were the only headlights on the road. If Jake had been a big city cop, he’d have hit the accelerator and turned on the siren. He would have called for backup and dragged in ten patrol vehicles to make his point.

  But this was Wind River County, where hardworking folks went to bed early, and ten o’clock was considered late to show up for a visit.

  “Maggie was right,” Jake said. “She identified the guy in the photos as Freeman. While I was on the phone, I looked him up on the internet. Wade Freeman owns a good-size cattle ranch and a website with his photo.”

  “A cattle rancher,” she said. “Do you think he’ll go to the event in Cheyenne?”

  “Probably not. The Cattlemen’s Ball isn’t a stock show or a place to sell beef. Most ranchers couldn’t care less about a dress-up party. If they’re going to take time off, they’ll go to the rodeo during Frontier Days in July.”

  “Who will be at the ball?”

  “Some folks in the cattle industry, big money people and politicians like the attorney general.”

  “Callie said there would be oil investors.”

  “And their wives,” he said. “Some ladies are always looking for a chance to show off and get prettied up.”

  “Like the wife of Burt Maddox?”

  He glanced toward her. “What made you think of that?”

  “When I went to see Maddox, he said that his wife had moved to Cheyenne to take care of her parents. Do you think she’ll be at the event?”

  “Oh, yeah. Mrs. Virginia Maddox loved being somebody important, the wife of the sheriff.”

  “I had the impression that she and Big Burt might not be on the best of terms. He used the phrase ‘good riddance’ when referring to her.”

  “We’ll want to talk to her.”

  The other thing he wanted to do in Cheyenne was to investigate William Dormund’s background. The second phone call he’d returned when he went upstairs was to the FBI agent who had been investigating all the crimes associated with the COIN princes.

  Earlier today, the agent had contacted the FBI branch operating out of Cheyenne. They’d done the standard investigative procedures: taking possession of Dormund’s files, talking to friends and associates, reviewing the records for his phone calls and pulling his bank receipts. So far, they’d turned up a whole lot of nothing.

  Dormund had worked on the fringes of the oil industry, but he’d been on the skids for a couple of years. He’d closed his office, fired his secretary and worked from home. Divorced with no kids, he lived alone.

  The only promising bit of evidence came from his bank records. Ten days ago, he’d received fifty thousand dollars in an untraceable money transfer from a Swiss bank. Dormund had made large cash withdrawals that Jake assumed went to pay Granger.

  The FBI hadn’t been able to track the money or establish a link between Dormund and the COIN princes, but Jake had an investigative tool that they didn’t. His old buddy Oscar was a successful attorney in Cheyenne who knew everybody and heard everything.

  “I was wondering,” Saida said, “if Maggie would enjoy coming to the ball.”

  He was one hundred percent certain that his sister would love flying on a private jet, and she’d been talking about seeing Oscar and his family. “Can you fix her up with something to wear?”

  “Six suitcases,” she reminded him.

  “I’m pretty sure Maggie will like getting dolled up.”

  “Not like you?”

  “Wearing a suit and shaking hands with politicians isn’t my favorite thing, but that’s part of the job. Just like those media briefings.”

  “You sound like Amir,” she said. “He hates the politics but loves the work.”

&nbs
p; “Maybe your brother and I have a couple of things in common.”

  According to the directions on his GPS, they were getting close to Wade Freeman’s ranch. A barbed-wire fence stretched along the side of the road. In a moonlit field, a herd of black Angus cattle were resting, some lying down and others upright.

  Saida leaned forward to peer through the windshield. “The cows look so peaceful. They seem like friendly creatures.”

  “Cattle?”

  “The sounds they make and the way they move. They’re very docile beasts.”

  “Ever been close enough to smell a herd?”

  Jake slowed at the turnoff to Freeman’s ranch. The road was asphalt, nicely maintained with the weeds trimmed on both sides. The sprawling two-story house had flower beds across the front and a large vegetable garden to the right. A barn and other outbuildings were behind the main house.

  According to the Freeman Ranch website, he ran over a thousand head of cattle. With an operation that large, he probably had a crew that lived here. In busy season, he was close enough to Dumont to hire part-time cowboys. There hadn’t been any mention of a wife or children, but Wade Freeman had inherited the ranch from his mother who inherited from her family. Apparently, his mom kept her family name because this property had been called the Freeman Ranch for over seventy years.

  Two men sat in rocking chairs on the well-lit wraparound porch. They both rose as Jake’s police vehicle approached. After they parked, he and Saida got out of the car and strolled toward the porch.

  He recognized Wade Freeman from the photos which really didn’t do him justice. A tall rangy man with an easy smile, he came down the stairs from the porch to greet them as his companion went into the house. In spite of the white streaks in his black hair, he appeared to be only in his late thirties.

  Jake spoke first. “Mr. Freeman, I’m Sheriff Jake Wolf. I apologize for coming by so late, but I had a couple of questions that wouldn’t wait until morning.”

  The rancher gave him a firm handshake. “I voted for you.”