The Lawman

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  “No, I didn’t.” Leigh got up and brushed off the seat of her jeans. “If I had, I would have told you and saved you a heck of a lot of trouble. I don’t have unlimited pyschic power. If I did, I’d have figured out who’s causing the accidents.” Not that Joe would believe her if she did, she thought. Then, for some reason, she remembered the diary page that she’d pulled from the cactus. “You must have had to plow through some old records to find your mother,” she said to Chase.

  “Amanda did. She’s a whiz at that.”

  Leigh glanced at her. “Joe has something we found out in the desert that looks like a photocopy of an old diary page. If you’d be willing to take it down to the Arizona Historical Society, we might find out what diary it came from. I told Joe I didn’t think it was important, but it keeps flashing into my mind. That means there’s something to it.”

  “Consider it done,” Amanda said. “I’m hopelessly inadequate at helping build a rodeo arena, so this will make me feel useful.”

  * * *

  THE NIGHT BEFORE the rodeo, just before sunset, Joe went with everyone else to admire the new arena and welcome the delivery of Grateful Dead, Eb Whitlock’s Brahma bull. Chase, Amanda and little Bart rode the half mile to the arena with Leigh in her pickup. Ry and Freddy took Kyle with them, and Joe rode in the back.

  Ever since the afternoon he and Leigh had made love, Joe had prayed for a cleansing vision that would convince him Leigh had nothing to do with the sabotage. Unfortunately, he’d been cursed with a logical mind that preferred careful deductions to cleansing visions. He was ninety-nine percent sure she was telling the truth, but he couldn’t say that to her and expect anything but disdain. He had to come to her free of doubt, and he knew it.

  The entrance to the arena parking area was on the main road leading to the highway. An arch over the gate announced the True Love Rodeo Grounds, bracketed on either side by a heart with an arrow through it. Ry tooted his horn as he led the way under the arch. An afternoon rain had washed down the arena and the tang of wet creosote bushes mingled with the fragrance of new lumber. Ry had floated a loan to construct the modest structure, which included several holding pens, bleachers, two bucking chutes and a small judges’ stand.

  While Ry stood by proudly, everyone exclaimed over the finished arena and speculated as to how much revenue it could bring in during the year. But a cloud of dust on the entrance road ended the discussion as all eyes focused on the arrival of Grateful Dead.

  “Your nemesis is on his way,” Freddy said to Ry.

  “The man or the animal?” Ry asked. “I have far more reservations about Whitlock than I do about his bull.”

  “I found out where that diary page came from,” Amanda said as the shiny dual-wheeled pickup came into sight. “The guy who wrote it was named Whitlock, too. Jethro Whitlock.”

  “Maybe he’s related,” Kyle said.

  “That’s probably why the diary page was out there,” Joe said. It looked like another dead end. He watched as Eb parked the truck and climbed out. “Some amateur historian found the diary at the historical society and is trying to prove a link between that Whitlock and the one who owns the Rocking W Ranch.”

  “I’m going to start reading it tonight,” Amanda said to Joe. “I’ll let you know if anything turns up.”

  “Can I read it after you?” Kyle asked.

  “Sure.” Amanda squeezed his shoulder. “But it won’t be as sweet as Clara’s diary, I’m afraid. This guy sounds like a rough character. Went around robbing banks and stage lines until he was finally caught and thrown into the Yuma Territorial Prison. I guess he died there, which was probably a relief to the citizens of Arizona.”

  Eb parked the truck with a flourish and climbed out. “Well, I brought your star attraction,” he boomed. “How do you like my trailer? You could leave it parked out front to get people’s attention.”

  “Looks big enough for a circus elephant,” Ry said, glancing at the large purple trailer with Grateful Dead, The Bull That’s Never Been Rode stenciled on the side in gold.

  Eb hitched up his belt. “That’s so my boys can cross-tie him in the middle and he won’t be able to throw himself against the sides and get hurt. See that slot along each side? That’s my invention. A cowboy can be on either side of the trailer on the outside and move that bull in slick as a whistle. Had to come up with something. None of my hands would walk into the trailer with him.” Eb glanced at the group. “In any case, I’d advise taking the little ones to one of your trucks before we bring him out, just to be on the safe side.”

  Freddy glanced at Ry. “Isn’t it nice to know you’re planning to ride an animal like that?” She turned to Amanda, who was holding Bart and looking alarmed. “Let’s go, Amanda. Kyle, why don’t you come with us into my truck? We’ll turn on the radio and sing some songs while these macho guys show how tough they are.”

  Kyle glanced at Joe and Joe nodded. “Good idea, buddy. This bull is no Romeo, from what I hear.”

  “Are you staying, Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  Kyle squared his shoulders. “Then so am I.”

  Joe felt caught in a trap of his own making. He loved the courage that Kyle demonstrated; the little guy had come a long way since the day they’d arrived at the True Love. If Joe ordered him into the truck, Kyle might feel put down, yet this bull made Joe nervous. He glanced at Leigh, seeking some signal, some silent communication that would help him decide what to do. For the first time he could remember since he’d met her, she gave no indication of what she was thinking. She seemed to have withdrawn into herself.

  “Just keep the boy out of the way, then,” Eb said. “I brought the cattle prod to use on him.”

  Leigh roused herself. “Don’t use the cattle prod.”

  Eb paused and looked at her as if she’d come unhinged. “What do you mean, don’t use it? This animal is hard to control, Leigh. You’ve seen him.”

  “Let me talk to him.”

  “Let you—” Eb stared at her.

  “I want everybody away from that trailer,” Leigh said. “He hates it when people crowd around.”

  Ry stepped toward her. “Leigh, you know how much faith I have in you, but this bull is legendary. Let’s not take any foolish chances.”

  She faced him, her expression composed. “The foolishness would be for all of you to converge on him and jolt him out of the trailer with a cattle prod. I can guarantee somebody will get hurt if you do that. Now, I’m going over to the trailer to talk with him.” She started across the parking lot. “I’m warning you to stay back,” she called over her shoulder.

  “Leigh—”

  “Let her do it, Ry.” Joe was surprised to hear himself say it. He didn’t want Leigh to put herself in danger. Why was he so certain that she would be okay? Logically she had no business dealing with a two-thousand-pound Brahma bull.

  “Yeah,” Kyle echoed. “Let her.”

  Ry glanced at Chase, who shrugged. “Doesn’t seem like a problem if she talks to him,” Chase said. “He’s still in the trailer. He can’t do anything from there.”

  “No, it’s a strong trailer.” Eb shook his head. “But you boys humor Leigh far too much with this voodoo hocus-pocus of hers. If you want her to sweet-talk Grateful Dead, be my guest, but it won’t accomplish anything.”

  As Joe watched Leigh move to the front of the trailer and look in through the metal grille, he could swear she seemed to be standing in a pool of light. He glanced at the setting sun, sure it was a trick of the clouds rimming the horizon, but he couldn’t figure out the trajectories that would bring a beam of sunlight to fall directly on Leigh.

  She stayed at the head of the trailer for several minutes while the men waited in tense silence. Then she walked to the back. Before Joe realized what she was doing, she had the tailgate unlatched.

  “Hey!” Ry called, starting over at a run. Joe followed.

  Leigh spun and held up a hand. “Stop right there.”

  Ry skidded to a ha
lt and Joe nearly bumped into him. He felt a body thump into his and turned to see Chase over his right shoulder.

  A smile twitched at the corner’s of Leigh’s mouth. “Will you guys ease up before you hurt yourselves? I can handle this.”

  Grateful Dead kicked the side of the trailer and bawled out a warning.

  “You’re not going in there,” Ry said.

  “How else can I lead him out?”

  “With the ropes on the sides, like Whitlock said,” Chase suggested.

  “He’ll try to get away once he’s out of the trailer if you treat him like that. He’s in a strange place, and he’s very nervous.” She turned away from them as another metallic thump came from inside the trailer. “I’m going in.”

  “Aw, Leigh,” Chase said. “We can’t let you do that.”

  “Let?” She whirled and glared at all three of them. “Six months ago, you three greenhorns had never laid eyes on a steer, let alone a Brahma bull.”

  “Greenhorns?” they chorused.

  “Don’t think you can tell me how to handle this animal. I have more experience than the three of you put together, with Eb Whitlock thrown in for good measure!”

  Ry braced his hands on his hips. “And here I thought you were the reasonable sister. You’ve got more of Freddy in you than I thought.”

  “The fact is, we both have a lot of Clara in us. Now back off, all of you.”

  “No, by God,” Ry said, starting forward. “I—”

  Joe caught his arm. “She can do it.”

  Ry turned to stare at Joe. “How the hell do you know? You’re the greenest one of the bunch!”

  “That’s true, but I know Leigh.” He felt as if the words were flowing through him, not from him. “If she says she can handle that bull, I believe her.”

  Ry took off his hat and scratched his head. Then he peered at Joe as if his partner had taken leave of his senses. Yet Joe had never felt more alive, more joyous in his life. He couldn’t have explained the exact connection between Leigh’s fearless handling of the bull and her truthfulness about the accidents, but there was one. It wasn’t logical, but it was real.

  Ry put his hat on and tugged it over his eyes. “I don’t like this. If anything happens to that woman, I’m holding you responsible, Gilardini.”

  “All right.” Joe gazed across at Leigh. Now, when she looked at him, the mask was gone, and her spirit shone forth so brightly he caught his breath. “I’ll take the responsibility,” he said.

  “Chase, go get a couple of ropes to have ready,” Ry said. “Just in case Grateful Dead isn’t a true believer in the power of psychic connections.”

  “What’s Leigh gonna do, Dad?”

  Joe glanced down to see Kyle standing next to him. If Grateful Dead bolted from the trailer, Kyle would be much too close for comfort. But the bull wouldn’t bolt. Confidence in Leigh overrode Joe’s fear. “She’s going to talk that bull out of the trailer, Kyle. She’s connecting with his mind, just the way she does with horses.”

  “And people,” Kyle said.

  “Yes, and people.” He believed, yet he held his breath as Leigh edged into the trailer, crooning to the bull with every step. When another thump of hooves against metal interrupted her litany, Joe winced.

  “I thought you had complete faith in this project,” Ry said, eyeing him.

  Joe kept his gaze on the trailer. “I do.”

  “They say love is blind,” Ry said.

  Joe didn’t respond. He’d never been able to see more clearly in his life, but it was a different sort of seeing, and he wasn’t about to explain it to Ry right now.

  “Here they come,” Kyle whispered.

  Joe clenched his jaw as Leigh emerged, holding the halter of the ugliest animal he’d ever seen. Horns curved viciously forward above a white death-mask face with dark splotches around each eye. The menacing hump above his massive brindle shoulders swayed as he walked. Next to him, Leigh looked no bigger than a child. Joe had witnessed some unbelievable acts of courage during his twenty years as a cop, but he’d never seen anything more heart-stopping than the picture of this slight young woman leading a beast that could crush her in an instant if it chose to do so.

  Leigh didn’t break her concentration as she moved slowly down the ramp, her head close to the bull’s ear while she kept up a constant flow of soothing words. She walked away from the trailer toward the sturdy pen designated for the bull, and Joe followed her with his eyes, his heart full. Careful to keep her movements steady, she unlatched the gate and led the bull inside. When she latched the gate after her, closing herself inside with the animal, Joe thought he might pass out.

  She stood there for long moments scratching the monster’s nose. Then she unhooked the lead rope and turned her back on the bull as she unlatched the gate again and walked out. An audible sigh went up from the group watching her.

  Joe didn’t consciously decide to go to meet her, yet suddenly he was on his way, eating up the space that separated them with long strides. When they were face-to-face, she stared up at him.

  “I believe you,” he said.

  “I know you do.” Her bottomless gaze drew him in and her mysterious smile made him tremble with anticipation.

  “Leigh, I—”

  “Hey, that was some trick!” called Whitlock.

  Joe turned to see him barreling over, destroying any chance for Joe to say what was burning in his heart. His buddies knew enough to hang back when they’d figured out what was happening, but not this blowhard. Where was Chase with a rope when a guy needed one?

  “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,” Eb said as he reached them.

  Joe glanced over to where Ry, Chase and Kyle stood. All of them, including Kyle, looked highly amused. Joe wasn’t.

  Whitlock compounded his boorish behavior by clapping Joe on the back. “You guys sure have been hanging in there with this ranch. I’m surprised, to tell the truth. Thought you’d have given up and cleared out by now, especially with all the things going wrong recently.”

  Joe gazed down at Leigh. “I’d say everything’s going along pretty well right now.”

  “I suppose you still think you’ll make a big profit when you sell to the developers in a couple of years, but with interest rates going up, I wouldn’t count on that,” Whitlock said. “We could be in for another real-estate slump. Frankly, I think you’d be better off to sell now.”

  Joe had trouble wrenching his attention away from Leigh, but something in Whitlock’s tone niggled at him. He forced himself to look into the guy’s eyes. Was it his imagination, or was there a spark of desperation behind the genial smile, the hearty advice? He decided to probe a little deeper. “There’s a good chance we won’t ever sell the True Love,” he said.

  Whitlock’s smile stayed in place but his eyes narrowed. “That’s crazy. You’re just city boys playing at running a ranch.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it.” Joe met the challenge in Whitlock’s eyes.

  Whitlock’s smile faded and he looked away, his glance darting everywhere but at Joe. “You’ll never succeed. Haven’t you heard? The True Love is cursed.”

  I’ve got you, you son of a bitch. Now I just have to find proof. Joe stepped over beside Leigh and slipped an arm around her waist. “You know, Whitlock, I have the strongest feeling that curse is about to be lifted.”

  16

  “IT’S WHITLOCK. I just don’t have a way to prove it yet,” Joe said later that evening as he sat with Ry, Freddy and Chase on the patio. Kyle was out on the front porch with Dexter, and Amanda was putting Bart to bed. Joe had chosen the patio for the discussion because it was fairly private. The number of guests had swelled in the past week due to the publicity about the rodeo, and most of them were gathered in the main room of the house for line-dancing lessons conducted by Leigh.

  Joe could see her rhythmic motions through the large window, and they fired his blood. He longed to ditch the investigation and take her back to her roo
m for a night of lovemaking. But he had a job to do, and the job affected her welfare, too.

  “You know I agree with you,” Ry said. “I’ve never trusted him.”

  Freddy shifted in her lawn chair. “I still can’t believe it’s Eb. Not when we’re talking about a dangerous brushfire and a flash flood that could have killed Leigh and Kyle. Eb wouldn’t do things like that just to get a piece of land.”

  “It’s more than the land,” Joe said. “And once we find out what he’s after, we’ll have our proof. What about mineral rights? Could there be oil under here?”

  Freddy shook her head. “My dad had geologists come out more than once. There’s no oil in the ground, or precious metal in the canyons, either.”

  “Then it’s something else,” Joe said. “And we have to come up with it fast. He’s liable to create an accident during the rodeo tomorrow. I’m worried about—” Joe paused as Kyle came through the French doors and walked across the patio toward them. “Hi, buddy.”

  “Belinda says it’s time for me to go to bed. The dancing’s about over.”

  “Good idea,” Joe said. “Tomorrow’s a big day.”

  Kyle came over and leaned on Joe’s chair. “I told Dexter about that Jethro Whitlock guy who wrote the diary Amanda’s reading. He got kind of excited.”

  Freddy laughed. “Dexter hates anybody with the name of Whitlock. He caught Eb giving Belinda a kiss on the cheek once, and he’s been jealous ever since.”

  Joe glanced at Chase. “Is Amanda planning to read the rest of that diary tonight?”

  “If she can keep her eyes open.” Chase stretched. “We’re both still suffering from jet lag.”

  “I think we all need a good night’s rest,” Leigh said, coming out to the patio. “I’m beat. You can stay up all night discussing this if you want, but I’m going to bed.”

  Joe gazed up at her, trying to decide if her announcement was an invitation or a rejection. They’d had no time alone since she’d taken Grateful Dead to his pen, and now she seemed determined to avoid his questioning glance. He stood and turned to his son. “Go get ready for bed, Kyle. I’ll come and tuck you in in a minute.”