by Kym Roberts
“Good morning, Bobby Ray. Charli. Are you ready for closing ceremonies?”
“He insists it’s a must see,” I said.
Taylor winked at my dad. “Oh, it is. You really can’t miss it.”
I looked back and forth between the two and began to worry. Not that my dad didn’t deserve happiness, but Taylor was maybe five years older than me and the thought of my father dating someone that young gave me the willies. Luckily, Dad saw where my mind had traveled and laughed in my face.
“You’re all the trouble I need, Princess.”
Mateo entered the store and was greeted by the real Princess of The Barn. She squeaked and wiggled and hopped around like a puppy welcoming its owner home.
He reached down and scratched her ears. “What’s that all about, little one?”
“Did you have waffles for breakfast?”
Mateo looked at my dad like he’d been spying on him. “Yes.”
Dad nodded. “I knew it. She can smell waffles a mile away. She doesn’t care for pancakes, but waffles are a whole ’nuther story.”
Princess looked at my dad, then Mateo. I could have sworn she shook her head in disgust before waddling off.
“Good morning, Sheriff.” Taylor smiled but I couldn’t help but notice how her hand stayed glued to her side as she gave Princess a sidelong look. It wasn’t the first time someone didn’t want to have any armadillo cooties.
“Ms. Goode, nice to see you again.”
“Likewise.” She turned back to my dad. “Bobby Ray, did you have time to finish that project for the closing ceremony?” Taylor asked.
“I did. I’ve got it at the side door waiting for you.”
“Excellent.”
“Do you need any help, Daddy?” I asked.
“Oh no, I’m not giving you a chance to peek,” he said. Taylor and Dad headed back toward the tearoom, talking the whole way.
“What’s that all about?” Mateo asked.
“Daddy made something for the ceremony today, but won’t let me see it.”
“And you didn’t peek?” His left eyebrow rose, skeptically. “I find that hard to believe.”
“I think you better remember who kept Scarlet from following you yesterday when you arrested Liza Twaine.”
“Yeah, that’s what I stopped by to talk to you about.”
That uncomfortable feeling started creeping up my neck. “Oh?”
“I had to let her go.”
“What?”
“She admitted she broke into Scarlet’s trailer, but she was looking for clues to track down Dalton. She knew we weren’t going to let the media near the grave site and since you and Scarlet were there, she thought it was the perfect time to have a look-see in Scarlet’s trailer.”
“But she committed a burglary—”
“It was criminal trespass.”
His response was too quick and way too nonchalant for the trauma that break-in caused—the sense of violation Scarlet felt. Trespass was a charge for someone walking on your lawn, not for someone who rifled through everything you owned. “She broke into Scarlet’s home.”
“And she didn’t take anything. It’s a class B misdemeanor.”
“So she’s out?”
“Posted her bond last night. But you should know the charges will probably be dropped.” Mateo looked over his shoulder, not wanting Taylor or my daddy to hear. “She gave us some evidence in the homicide case.”
“What evidence?”
“Evidence. And that’s all I’m going to say.”
“And you’re telling me this now because…”
“Because I thought you could keep an eye on Scarlet today and make sure that she doesn’t tick off my witness.”
“You mean Liza.”
“Yes, Liza. I’m going to get my hair cut now, and I’ll tell her what I’ve told you, but I don’t trust Scarlet to keep her mouth shut.”
“Since when has Scarlet not kept her mouth shut?”
“Since the day she was born?”
“You’re funny.”
“Some people think so.”
There was a thud at the back of the store that stopped our conversation.
“Did I hurt it?” Taylor asked.
“No. It’s okay. Let me get Mateo to help. Mateo!” my dad called.
“Coming, Bobby Ray.” Mateo looked me in the eye. “Remember, I’m counting on you to keep Scarlet out of trouble.”
I sighed heavily and capitulated without a fight. “Fine.”
Mateo disappeared toward the back of the store as two more customers came in. When I saw one of the women was carrying an armadillo purse, I scooted Princess behind the counter. I wasn’t sure how she'd react to one of her kind being a handbag.
A warm breeze wafted through the store as I heard my dad and Mateo grunting instructions back and forth. “Turn this way.” “Angle it that way.” “Go back.” And finally, a loud metal clunk right before Mateo yelled, “Owww! Dios Mio.”
I knew that sound, a little too well.
I ran back to find Mateo holding his head. Dad was holding my mom’s sign and Taylor was digging in her purse for a tissue to stop the blood that was seeping through the strands of hair on the back of Mateo’s head. The over-sized package was sitting in the courtyard.
“I thought I told you to hang that thing properly?” Mateo asked my dad irritably.
“I did, but apparently, you’re not treating Princess appropriately. Otherwise, her mother would have never dropped it on your head.”
Mateo looked up at the intact bracket and back down at the sign that appeared to be in top condition.
“If you hadn’t been so secretive and taken it through the front door, nothing would’ve happened.” Both men scowled in my direction. I held up my hands, “I’m just saying…”
“Let’s get it loaded into Taylor’s truck before the entire side of the building falls on my head,” Mateo grumbled.
I took the sign from my dad, who was grinning like a pet raccoon, but hid it when Mateo looked in his direction. They took the package to the front of the store with Taylor scurrying along behind them holding a tissue to Mateo’s head. The loading into the back of Taylor’s big black SUV occurred with no further mishaps.
Out of breath, my dad asked, “Taylor, could I ask one more favor?”
“Of course.” Taylor smiled, turning on that charm all the men in town seemed to love. “Anything for you, doll.”
Daddy blushed and Mateo and I shared a look. He was thinking the same thing I was about Taylor’s interest in my father.
“Could you give Princess a ride to the rodeo? She’s still unable to drive and I don’t want to rush our customers out the door.”
“Absolutely, that’s not a problem at all.” Taylor turned toward me and I wondered if I was looking at my future step-mom. “Are you ready, Princess?”
“Yes, ma’am. Let me grab my purse.” I said.
Mateo had to have the last word. “Don't forget your donut.”
Chapter Thirty-One
We got in Taylor’s vehicle that had been parked in the sun, and the temperature had already risen to above my comfort level. Taylor started the SUV and I welcomed the cool air blowing out the vents. The interior of the vehicle was a whole lot nicer than my daddy’s truck. The seats were leather, and the dash was covered with wood trim. The stereo played the latest country hit through so many speakers that I imagined sitting in a field and having a dance party with the windows rolled down. Taylor slipped off her shoes to drive and put her red lace heels in the backseat before we headed out of town.
“Those are gorgeous shoes,” I told her, a little bit of envy tinged my voice.
“Thank you. I just got them at a boutique in Oak Grove. I broke the heel on my favorite pair of red stilettos the other day, but it worked out well since I found these.”
“How do you manage to wear stilettos around the arenas? The buildings aren’t e
xactly made for shoes you’d find on a fashion runway.”
Taylor laughed. “No they're not, but I've found stilettos give me the confidence I need in a man's world.”
“It'd be the opposite for me. I'd fall on my face at their feet, at least every other day. It'd be humiliating,” I confided.
“It's a matter of what you’re used to. I could hike in heels before I could walk in flip-flops.”
I started to laugh but lost all enthusiasm as something in that statement nagged my brain.
Fuzz buckets. I looked at Taylor who was staring straight ahead at the road. Her complexion still beautiful even though a few wrinkles had started to crease at her eyes.
She made a quick glance in my direction when my laughter stopped, her eyes scanning my face for the reason. “Is something wrong?”
“You were hiking in your red heels when you broke one,” I said.
Taylor's face drained. And my heart began beating so hard I was pretty sure I could fly if I could just get out of Taylor's killer wheels.
“I suppose it's times like this that make a Southern saying really resonate. I mean, what else could I possibly say but, bless your heart.” She pulled a gun out of her driver's door pocket and held it across her lap, pointing at me with her left hand.
“You could stop the car and let me out and just keep driving. I won't say a word.”
“That cute sheriff of yours would have it out of you after one roll in the sheets.”
I put my hands up, despite it hurting like the dickens, and leaned against the passenger door. The last thing I wanted was to get shot. I imagined it would hurt a lot more than bruised ribs. “There are no sheets between us.”
Taylor laughed. “Princess, that's only a matter of time with a man like that.”
“Nope. I swear, no sheets. I've sworn off sheets.”
Taylor kept driving like we were on a girl's day out. But we weren't. She passed the exit for The Ranch and hit the highway. If I didn't know I was in trouble before, I did now.
“I said that once upon a time, when a cowboy left me,” Taylor said. “He was the next best thing to apple pie. An up-and-comer. Held the record for bull-riding and the night he broke it… He stood me up. Disappeared and never came back for me.” A tear slid down her cheek.
“Are you talking about Wyatt?”
She sniffed but kept talking. I slowly reached for my phone in the side pocket of my donut and jabbed some numbers without looking down at the keypad. I cleared my throat to cover the noise of the ring on the opposite end and prayed whoever I had randomly dialed would be able to tell what was going on.
“Wyatt said he was going to marry me before he disappeared. Eight years, eight long years I've been waiting for that man to return so I could exact revenge on his cold heart. Come to find out, he's been dead the whole time. His heart was cold before it disintegrated into nothing.”
“So you didn't kill Wyatt?”
“I loved Wyatt—would die for Wyatt.” She swiped at her tears and her face hardened. “I did die for Wyatt. I don't know the Taylor he said he loved anymore. She's been gone for too many years.”
“Who killed him?”
“That's the funniest part of this whole story.” She laughed, but it was more manic than humorous. It was downright freaking scary. “Erik killed him. Just shot him dead for no good reason.
“At least that’s what I thought until Cade told me our deposit was way too big on the first day. And then the second day. Then I realized Erik had been stealing the funds all along. The computers don't connect to anything; each one can easily be doctored for an audit. The donations vary from customer to customer, and most are done in cash. Who's going to miss cash with no real record keeping? Since the day I started working with Erik, I'd asked him to use a better system when we did charity events. But he insisted keeping it simple was the best way to deal with small town types.”
Small town types? Jiminy Christmas if the guy wasn't dead, I'd kill him myself. “So he killed Wyatt because Wyatt figured out he was stealing the money?” I asked.
“That's only part of it. Erik liked drama. Thought it created a buzz around the circuit for the media to grab hold of. We weren't doing too well the year Wyatt disappeared. The bulls were lack-luster and caused the scores to be low. The riders were demanding better bulls and Erik found a way to deliver.”
“What do you mean ‘deliver’?”
She turned down highway 965 and I knew exactly where she was going.
I wished I didn't.
“He brought in Pierce Brown and the Starlight Corrals as a stock contractor. His bulls are given so much testosterone and other chemicals I don't know how they pass the testing.”
“They pass the testing because they dope them after they've received their medicals. I saw them doping Twisted Mister.” I was really hoping that sharing my information with her would create a bond between us, but the farther we went, the more manic she looked. “Why are we going East on 965?” I asked just in case someone was listening on the other end of my phone. “Are you taking us to Wyatt's grave?”
Taylor paused and slowly turned her head in my direction. The slow movement reminded me of The Exorcist. It was the spooky look, right before green vomit spewed from Linda Blair's mouth. “Where's your phone?” Taylor demanded.
I blinked.
“Where's your phone!” She spit as she yelled and I truly expected it to be green. It wasn't, but her complexion was mottled. Her pupils held a nanosecond of sanity before it disappeared completely. I turned my phone off and held it out for her to take. She put her gun back in her door and snatched the phone.
“It was in the pocket on my donut,” I explained.
She pulled up the password screen as she swerved toward the shoulder of the highway. That didn't seem to faze her in the least but scared the bejeezus out of me.
“What's your password?”
“Rock.”
“That's not very original, considering where you live. I need the numbers,” she demanded while holding my phone over the top of the steering wheel.
I thought it was very original. I'd set it before I'd returned home. Hazel Rock was the last thing on anyone's mind in Denver. “7-6-2-5.”
She typed in the numbers and my apps appeared. I put my hand on my door handle, thinking I might stand a better chance with pavement at sixty-five miles an hour than with a deranged woman with a gun.
She scrolled through my call history. “Scarlet. Daddy—how sweet—and Scarlet again. You do live a pathetic life, don't you?”
I frowned. That was a low blow. “I wouldn't call it pathetic.”
She clicked the phone closed and tossed it into the console. Either I'd somehow dialed Scarlet or I'd never dialed a number at all. Fuzz buckets.
“Why did you dress up like a man and attack me with the branding iron?” I asked. If I was going to die, I wanted to know every last detail.
“Honey, I would not dress up like a man if you paid me to.”
“But—”
“Look at my arm.” Taylor pulled up the sheer sleeve of her blouse and showed my two burns on her forearm. They were puckered and old, but still looked like they had to have been painful.
Yet try as I might, I stillcouldn’t muster up any sympathy for her.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Erik had this thing about pretty women. He liked to mess up what he called ‘their perfection.’” Her voice dripped with hatred. And she definitely spiked my curiosity.
“Why?”
Taylor rolled her sleeve back down. “Why does any man like to hurt women?”
I didn’t know. My mind got stuck on Erik burning my face. I couldn’t fathom being a victim of branding just because a man wanted to damage my looks. It was inhuman, and I was beginning to think Erik Piper got what was coming to him.
“Why did you stay after he did that?”
“I couldn’t let go of Wyatt…”
“So how did the branding iron get in the cabin?” I asked.
“Unfortunately only Erik can answer that question. I have no idea.”
“What happened to Erik?” I asked as we turned off 965 onto the dirt road.
“I killed him. After Dalton disappeared, I caught Erik planting an old copy of The Dangerous Eight along with a gun in my room. He said they belonged to Wyatt and thought I might like to have them. I’d never read Erik’s book before; I’d never really been interested in it. But I was touched that Erik would leave me something that belonged to Wyatt, even if he was a mean SOB and all he was giving me was a gun and a book. Then I opened the book and recognized some of the writing. Wyatt had been working on a book before he died, and the pages I read in Erik’s book were exactly the same thing that Wyatt had been working on. I flipped through the book and realized Erik's book was released right after Wyatt disappeared. Either it wasn't Wyatt's copy or Wyatt was still alive—and in hiding. I thought maybe he was writing books under an assumed name and Erik was covering for him. The hope was almost overwhelming. I saw the map on the inside of the book and demanded Erik take me to Wyatt. But he refused… And that's when everything changed.
“I picked up the gun and told him I'd shoot him right there on the spot if he didn't take me to Dalton. We followed the map in the book, and Erik made excuses the entire way. He said Wyatt had run off to Mexico with an under-aged girl. That had been one of the many rumors that had been making the rounds when Wyatt first disappeared. But I knew Wyatt wasn't that kind of man.” Taylor stared straight ahead, but I was guessing the only thing she saw was Wyatt’s face.
“We reached the grave right before sundown,” she continued. “Erik had already been there and cleaned off the brush. He exposed Wyatt's belt buckle and when I saw it, my life ceased to have meaning. For years, I hated Wyatt Hibbs for breaking my heart, and as it turns out, I'm the one who gave up on our love. He died cherishing it.”
Tears were flowing down her cheeks, and I knew the best thing was for her to embrace that emotion and the loss. Bring her back to the young woman who knew how to love, not the half-crazed shell who'd pulled a gun on me. But she wiped her tears with the back of her hand and any emotion she had in her eyes died. She refused to let her light be relit. She parked the SUV in the same place I’d parked my daddy’s truck days earlier and looked over at me.