Her Texas Lawman

by Stella Bagwell

  Fond remembrance marked Ripp’s features as he nodded. “That was my father. He took a bullet to the shoulder during that little scuffle. The robbers ended up getting forty years apiece.”

  “I’m impressed. And I’m sorry I didn’t connect your name with his before now.”

  His low chuckle was full of modesty. “Don’t put me in the same league as my father. He was an iron man. Everyone respected him.”

  “Was?”

  He glanced away from her but not before Lucita saw his blue eyes fill with loss.

  “Yeah. He died about five years ago—a bad case of emphysema. After that my brother and I sold the farm. It just wasn’t the same hanging around the place after Dad was gone.”

  “Farm?” She frowned. “Your father was a sheriff. How did he have time to farm, too?”

  Ripp turned his gaze back on her. “Farming was earlier in his life. While us boys were still young we raised corn and cotton. But the year I graduated high school we had a particularly hard drought and we nearly went under financially. That’s when a friend talked Dad into running for sheriff. After that, being a lawman became his life. And I guess it seeped over into his sons’ blood. My brother, Mac, is a deputy, too, over in Bee County.”

  Curious, she asked, “Your mother didn’t want to keep the farm?”

  His jaw hardened and when he spoke Lucita couldn’t miss the bitterness in his voice.

  “She didn’t have any say in the matter. She’s been gone from here for a long, long time—since Mac and I were kids.”

  Something had gone very wrong with his parents’ marriage, but Lucita wasn’t going to ask him any more. That sort of information needed to be given voluntarily, not pried out with a shovel.

  “I’m sorry for that,” she said softly, then purposely tried to brighten the moment with a smile. “So both you and your brother are in law enforcement. Do you have other siblings besides Mac?”

  Staring into the contents of his cup, he murmured, “No. It’s just Mac and me. He’s thirty-nine, a little more than a year older than me.”

  In spite of her own problems, Lucita could feel herself being drawn more and more into Ripp’s life. And though it might not be wise, she was glad for the distraction, glad that he was here to divert her attention from the note she’d pulled from beneath her windshield wiper. “Does Mac have a family?”

  A wry smile curved the corner of his lips. “Mac was married once, but that ended after a couple of years. He’s not looking to make a second attempt at having a family.”

  Her heart beating even more swiftly, her forefinger unwittingly drew imaginary patterns on the side of her coffee mug. “And what about you, Ripp? Do you have a family?”

  His eyes briefly connected with hers before settling on a row of windows that looked out on the back lawn.

  “No. I came close to having a wife once. But that…didn’t work out.”

  Even before she’d asked the question, a feeling deep within had whispered to Lucita that he wasn’t a family man. He might have a lover, but she felt sure he wasn’t a man who woke up with the same woman next to him every morning.

  A faint flush of pink colored her cheeks and she quickly glanced away from him. “Well, I try to believe that everything happens for the best. And look at me. At least you’re not going through something like this.”

  “You didn’t ask for this sort of trouble. And it would be narrow-minded of you—of any of us—to point the finger at your ex-husband.”

  She turned her gaze back to him and the sincerity she saw on his face punctured a hole in the dark cloak she hid her private life behind. Before she could stop them, things were tumbling out of her mouth that she normally didn’t speak to anyone, even her own family.

  “You’re right. I guess my mind keeps turning to him because—well, he’s the only person who’s ever intentionally hurt me.”

  “And now you feel foolish for ever trusting him.”

  Surprised that he understood, she looked at him and wondered if his own broken relationship had left him feeling the same way. “When I first started dating Derek in college, Daddy tried his best to warn me about him. Mingo saw Derek as a parasite, a man after my money. I refused to listen to his warnings. Instead, I chose to believe Derek’s charming lies.” With a heavy sigh, she rose from the chair and walked over to the windows looking out over the backyard. Staring bleakly out at the darkening evening, she said, “What gets me the most, Ripp, is that I was deceived for so long. For ten years I thought my husband loved me. To discover that he didn’t—it was like having my feet knocked from under me.”

  Long moments passed as quietness settled over the room. Lucita figured she had embarrassed the deputy by revealing so much about her personal life. She was about to turn and apologize when she felt his hand suddenly on her back.

  His touch was warm and solid and she had the strangest urge to lean against his chest, to invite his arms to circle around her.

  “Whether your ex had anything to do with the note is beside the point. He deserves to be locked away, Lucita. And I aim to see that he is.”

  Tears suddenly scalded her throat and she had to swallow several times before she could turn to face him.

  “Oh, Ripp, I—” Tilting her head back, she rested her palms in the middle of his broad chest. “I—”

  Finding it impossible to put her feelings in words, she rose on her tiptoes and touched her lips softly to his.

  By the time Ripp realized she was kissing him, the back door to the kitchen burst open. Lucita jerked away from him just before Marti rounded the corner.

  The boy stood staring at his mother standing next to a man with a gun on his hip.

  Chapter Five

  Though dazed by the sudden interruption, Lucita still leaped away from Ripp and smiled as brightly as she could at her son.

  “What’s he doing here?” Marti asked with childlike candor.

  Lucita opened her mouth to explain, but before she could get a word out, Ripp walked over to the tall, slender boy with a face full of freckles and a wary look in his gray eyes.

  Extending his hand to Lucita’s son, Ripp introduced himself, “Hello, young man. I’m Ripp McCleod. A deputy for Goliad County.”

  Still obviously rattled to find a man in the house, particularly a lawman, Marti turned one eye toward his mother while he shook hands with Ripp.

  “Mr. McCleod is Sheriff Travers’s chief deputy, Marti,” Lucita explained, then glanced uncertainly up at Ripp. “And—uh, he came by the ranch this evening because—”

  Sensing her unease, Ripp quickly intervened. “I was the officer who reported your mother’s car accident the other night. I came by this evening to deliver some papers to her that she needed for her insurance.”

  Ripp wasn’t normally a fibber, but in this case, he understood that Lucita needed time to decide how and what to explain to Marti about the extortion note. Whether she decided to let her son know about the threat was her own personal business, not his or the sheriff’s department.

  The boy’s face relaxed. “Oh. That’s good. I mean, I thought somebody here on the ranch had done something wrong. I’m glad it was just some old paper stuff.”

  Ruffling the top of Marti’s reddish-brown hair, Lucita did her best to let out a casual chuckle. “You can relax, son. Deputies don’t arrest kids for not doing their homework.”

  Lucita exchanged another quick glance with Ripp and he could see the relief in her eyes. He could also see that Marti had equated his presence with someone doing something wrong instead of a response to an accident. No doubt, Derek Campbell’s behavior had affected the boy in a multitude of negative ways, he thought regretfully. Just as his mother’s abandonment had carved painful nicks in his own life.

  Rolling his eyes, Marti groaned. “Oh, Mom, you’re gonna have Deputy McCleod thinkin’ I’m a little kid. I’m going on twelve years old! That’s almost a teenager!”

  Sharing an indulgent smile with Ripp, she reminded her son, “You won�
��t be twelve for eight more months.”

  “Well, Aunt Geraldine says the next eight months will just fly by,” he reasoned.

  “I’m sure they will,” Lucita agreed.

  “Does something special happen when you’re twelve?” Ripp asked him.

  The boy, who was tall for his age, drew himself even taller as he looked at Ripp. “My grandpa is goin’ to let me have a really great horse. One that I can cut on—like my cousin Gracia. She has all sorts of cool ribbons and trophies and medals that she’s won in competition. And she says that I can be as good as her. She and grandpa are goin’ to teach me.”

  “Gracia is Matt’s daughter,” Lucita explained to Ripp. “Since you’re friends with Matt and my father, I’m sure you’ve met her before.”

  Obviously she didn’t remember him from those years ago when he’d been in high school with her brother Matt. But he could hardly fault her for that. Ripp had been older than her and since he and Matt had only palled around at school and a few places in town, she’d never seen him on the Sandbur or been properly introduced to him.

  “Yeah, I became acquainted with Gracia right after she was born. Matt and I go way back—we were buddies in high school.” Turning to Marti, he asked, “You like to ride horses?”

  The boy gave him a short nod. “Yeah. A lot. I didn’t get to do it much when we lived in Corpus. But now that we live here on the ranch I get to ride all the time. But—” frowning, he looked accusingly at his mother “—Grandpa makes me ride nags, ’cause Mom’s afraid I’ll fall off and get hurt.”

  “Trampus isn’t a nag,” Lucita gently scolded. “He’s devoted to you and has willingly taken you for miles over this ranch. What do you plan to do when you get this new horse, just forget him because he’s old? That’s not the way anyone treats a true buddy.”

  It was obvious from the sheepish look on Marti’s face that his mother’s gentle reproach had left him a little ashamed of himself.

  “Aww, Mom, I ain’t gonna do Trampus that way.” Turning his attention on Ripp, the boy suddenly changed the subject. “Deputy McCleod, you have a funny name—Ripp. Who gave it to you?”

  Ripp chuckled. “I was named after my grandfather Ripley McCleod. But my father shortened it to Ripp. You can call me that, if you like.”

  “Oh. Guess that makes sense,” he said, then with a thoughtful frown asked, “Ripp, have you ever drawn your gun on anybody?”

  “Only twice in more than ten years. It’s not something a lawman does lightly. We have to have a very serious reason for drawing our firearm.”

  “Yeah. Guess you would,” he said, then scuffing the toe of his tennis shoe against the tile floor, he glanced uncomfortably away from Ripp. “You ever arrest anybody for stealing things—like money?”

  Ripp couldn’t count the times that he’d had to watch good people and good families see their loved one carted away in handcuffs. It was never a pleasant sight. But knowing what was going through Marti’s head right at this moment was somehow even worse. Ripp might not have had a mother, especially a loving mother like Lucita was to Marti, but he’d had a great father. He couldn’t imagine how this boy must feel to know that his father was a thief. Even worse, a thief who didn’t care one iota about his own son.

  “Sometimes, I do.”

  Marti’s mouth tightened as he continued to avoid Ripp’s gaze. “Well, I guess they deserve it.”

  Ripp glanced at Lucita to see her face had taken on a soberness that cut right through to a soft spot in his heart.

  “That’s something the courts have to decide, Marti,” Ripp told him.

  Lucita suddenly cleared her throat. “Son, it’s getting late. You’d better feed the cat and do your homework.”

  “Okay,” he mumbled, then politely reached to shake hands again with Ripp. “It was nice meetin’ you, Ripp McCleod.”

  “Same here, Marti. Maybe we’ll see each other again sometime.”

  Marti shrugged as though he very much doubted that would happen. “Yeah, sure.”

  Lucita sighed as he turned and trotted toward the mudroom. Once her son was completely out of sight, she looked gratefully at Ripp. “Thank you for coming to my rescue,” she said in a hushed voice. “I hadn’t been expecting Marti to come home this early.”

  One corner of Ripp’s mouth turned upward. “And find a lawman in his mother’s kitchen?”

  She could feel warm color seeping into her cheeks. He made it sound as though his being here had very little to do with him being a deputy. And maybe he was right. She hadn’t necessarily invited him in because he wore a badge on his chest and a gun on his hip. She’d simply wanted to spend a few more minutes with the man. What could that mean? That this whole thing was turning her common sense upside down?

  There was no question about that. She’d kissed the man! Dear God, what could he be thinking?

  “Well, I’m sure the sight of you in your uniform was a little intimidating.”

  The search of his blue eyes touched her face like fingertips exploring in the dark. The sensation left her slightly breathless.

  “I think his first impression was that I was here because of his father. Does he want Derek to be found? Prosecuted?”

  Letting out a long, pent-up breath, she wiped a palm across her forehead. He wasn’t going to mention the kiss. He was going to dismiss the whole thing. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “I’m not sure. He says that as far as he’s concerned, his father is dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Lucita,” he said gently. “I imagine the whole thing is easier for him to deal with that way.”

  Too stung with emotions to make any sort of reply, she nodded, then walked back over to the table and picked up their coffee cups. “Our coffee has gotten cold,” she said huskily. “Would you like more?”

  “No. It’s getting late and I have chores waiting on me at home. I’d better not keep you any longer.”

  She placed the cups on the cabinet counter while he retrieved his hat from the floor by his chair. But once he started toward the door, she couldn’t stop herself from following.

  “Thank you, Ripp, for being here for me and my family. I—we all appreciate your concern.”

  His hand on the doorknob, he paused to glance over his shoulder at her, and Lucita’s heart melted just a fraction as she watched his features soften.

  “You’ll get through this, Lucita. We all will.”

  “Good night, Ripp.”

  Nodding, he slipped out the door. Lucita stood where she was and tried to regain her breath.

  She’d kissed him. Not just a peck on the cheek. She’d kissed his lips. Purposely, gently, sweetly. Driving down the narrow asphalt road to his farmhouse, Ripp couldn’t stop himself from recalling how Lucita’s small hands had pressed themselves against the center of his chest, how her face had tilted up toward his. Almost as though she’d wanted him to take her into his arms. Had she? Or was his wishful imagination running wild with him?

  Hell, Ripp, you’re not a naive teenager anymore, he inwardly scolded himself. You know the sorts of games that women play with men.

  The corners of his mouth turned bitterly downward. Yeah, he knew, all right. After three long years of thinking he’d found a woman who’d stick by his side, Pamela had shown him her true colors. When she walked away with another man, his pride had suffered some mighty deep wounds and so had his trust in women.

  Still, Lucita didn’t seem the sort of woman who would play a flirting game, he argued. No, she’d already been too hurt herself to tease or entice without reason. So what had she been doing?

  Trying to thank you, Ripp. That’s all. Forget it. Forget her.

  Ripp was still mentally chiding himself when he turned a short curve and his house appeared a hundred yards ahead of him. Lights were shining through the living room window, and in the front, parked beneath a huge pecan tree, was his brother’s shiny black pickup truck with the Beeville County Sheriff’s Department emblem plastered on the side. Apparently, Mac had wande
red out of his jurisdiction for some official reason; otherwise he’d be driving his own personal vehicle.

  In front of the yard fence, Ripp shoved his own truck into Park and hurried inside.

  He found Mac sitting on the couch in front of a small television set. On the coffee table was an open pizza box with more than half of the contents remaining.

  “Hey, brother, come on in and make yourself at home,” Mac greeted with a lazy grin.

  “Hey, yourself. What are you doing here?” Ripp asked as he unbuckled his holster and placed the weapon on a nearby rolltop desk.

  Mac, who most folks said resembled their father, was taller than Ripp and a bit stockier in build. His black hair had begun to frost just a tad near his sideburns, but his glinting smile said he was still very young at heart.

  “I thought I’d have supper with my brother, but it seems he’s been out gallivanting all over the county. I was about to give up on you and take the rest of this pizza home. I kinda like it for breakfast, too. Besides, I’m all out of eggs. Have the hens been laying?”

  Mac wasn’t a farmer. He’d never liked it even when their father had made a living working the land. Once he’d taken up being a deputy, Mac had completely forsaken turning soil or feeding livestock. Ripp, on the other hand, still liked keeping animals and chickens around the place and raising a patch of vegetables in the summer.

  “Well, some of us have to work for a living,” Ripp replied. “And, yes, the hens are laying. Remind me before you leave and I’ll get you a couple of dozen eggs.”

  Leaving the room, he went to a bathroom and quickly freshened up before returning to his brother’s company. Mac had moved to the kitchen where he was heating a few slices of the pizza in the microwave.

  “I thought you’d like it better hot,” he said when Ripp entered the room.

  Ripp shook his head with wry amazement. “My brother being thoughtful? What’s come over you?”

  Mac chuckled as the microwave dinged and he pulled out the plate of pizza. “I’m not always lazy and selfish.”