The Spy Wore Spurs

by Dana Marton

  “The guys are fine,” she said, and meant it. They were the type of men Tommy would have been friends with. They were like brothers to Ryder and Ryder was like… Ryder was the man she was in love with. “Okay.”

  He sat her down and made some calls, then fixed her breakfast. After they cleaned up the dishes together, she changed into the best outfit she’d brought with her, black jeans, black cowboy boots, then put on Tommy’s favorite shirt at the last second instead of her own.

  “Let me get these spurs off.” He bent to take care of them.

  “You’re good as you are,” she told him. “I think Tommy would like it.”

  She lifted the urn from the mantel and cradled it with her right arm. Ryder took her other hand and they headed out, crossing the back pasture together to the far meadow.

  Mo, Jamie and the others showed up just as she started reciting the twenty-third psalm, Gramps’s favorite prayer. From the corner of her eye, she saw the sheriff’s car pull up her drive. Shane and Mattie got out. Then Kenny, the Pebble Creek sheriff, came. Then more trucks with Tommy’s friends. Even old man Murray and Henry showed up.

  Molly didn’t come. Grace shut her eyes for a second. She didn’t want to lose that friendship. She would have to deal with that. But not now.

  People came across the field, following each other in a line, gathering around her. Mattie started singing “Amazing Grace.” Others joined in.

  Grace stood facing the sun, golden glow gilding the ranch in otherworldly beauty, her arms wrapped tightly around the urn.

  “You were the best brother anyone could wish,” she said when the song ended. “You were a good friend, a good soldier, an amazing person who should still be here. I’m never going to forget you, Tommy, I swear.” She swallowed hard. “I’m going to try to be like you were, so you can be proud of me. Because I’m so damn proud of you.” She lifted off the top as a gust of wind rushed across the land. “I love you, Tommy.”

  And then with a soft sweep of her arm, she let him fly on the wind, over the land they both loved.

  She stumbled back, fairly blinded by tears. Ryder’s strong arms folded around her. Then she felt another hand on her shoulder, a soft squeeze. Others moved in for hugs and comforting words.

  And little by little her empty heart seemed to refill.

  She blinked back her tears as she looked at the gathered men and women. This was where she belonged. With these people, on this land, with this man.

  He stood by her side, holding her hand, leaning to her ear to whisper, “I love you, Grace.”

  She turned into his embrace, and didn’t care who was watching. “I love you, too, city slicker.”

  Epilogue

  The two men at the back of the funeral crowd stood apart from the others, talking under their breath.

  “This will be the end of it?” It better be, too much money was on the line. Too much money and his reputation. His life really, considering the type of people he was dealing with this time. Coyote looked at his local connection, hoping to hell the man was up to the task.

  “They got Dylan. They found two tunnels. They have Mikey Mitzner in jail. They’ll think they broke the back of the operation.” Kenny, the not-altogether-upstanding sheriff of Pebble Creek, scanned the mourners. “Although, I don’t like the look of Gracie with that government snoop. Looks like he might be sticking around.”

  “We’ll avoid the Cordero ranch for a while, until things die down.”

  Kenny nodded.

  Coyote scanned the small group of outsiders who supposedly worked on some project or other for Border Protection. Tough-looking bunch, that one. Worth keeping an eye on. If there was more trouble, it’d be coming from that quarter. He would just have to make sure that didn’t happen.

  “Rogers had to be sacrificed?” Not that he minded. The man hadn’t been nearly as conscienceless as he liked to work with. Dylan Rogers had been new to the game and sometimes hesitant. His football hero past pulled him back. He liked the money, but had never fully embraced the criminal lifestyle.

  “He was the weakest link. Once I handed that Chevy emblem over to Gracie and the man snooping after Paco, Dylan’s days were numbered.” Kenny puffed out his chest, looking very proud of himself.

  He’d owed Dylan Rogers money. More than a little. The man’s death had a neat way of wiping out that debt. Coyote watched the sheriff, but didn’t say anything about that.

  “Going into human trafficking was stupid of him. Shouldn’t have done that,” the man said, as if trying to justify the betrayal. “We make plenty of money on drug running. He didn’t have to be so greedy.” He swore under his breath. “And hooking up with freaking Mikey. Who’s gonna run the mill if they put Mikey away? A lot of people are gonna go jobless around here. The idiots never thought of that.”

  Coyote nodded. The local economy didn’t really interest him. He found the sheriff’s small-town notions and alliances quaint.

  The sheriff didn’t know it yet, but he’d be involved in human trafficking and worse before this game was over. Some big players were coming in; big money was on the line. Failure wasn’t an option.

  “Rogers has a sister. You think he told her anything about where his extra money was coming from? They own that ranch together.” Loose ends had to be tied up, and quickly.

  “No way. Molly would have been over at CBP the day she found out about it. A born Girl Scout that one. But pretty. Lonely now, too. I’ll make sure to look in on her.”

  “She here?”

  Kenny shook his head. “Heard she was messed up over Dylan’s death.” A speculative look came over the man’s face. He was probably wondering how soon he could go over to offer the woman a shoulder to cry on.

  Coyote shrugged. Where the sheriff went for romance was none of his concern. As long as it didn’t interfere with their business.

  “We need to cut back on shipping for a while. Ease it to a trickle. Make the authorities think that they scared us off,” he said.

  The creepy smile slid off the sheriff’s face. “That’ll cut into the money some.”

  He was always short on funds. Big fan of online gambling and cockfights for which he regularly traveled to the other side of the border.

  No conscience whatsoever and money problems. Unlike Dylan, the sheriff was fairly easy to manage, Coyote thought. He could have used a half dozen more associates just like the man.

  “You’ll make the money back later. I’m setting up something big.”

  “How big?”

  “Biggest deal we’ve done yet.”

  The sheriff brightened at that prospect. “Some new drug?”

  “Don’t worry about that part. What we ship is my responsibility. You make sure it gets through all smooth and safe.”

  “So we cut back for now so CBP goes away?”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on Rogers’s sister in the meanwhile.”

  “You do that. And if it looks like she knows more than what she’s let on so far…”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  Yes, he would, and without any hesitation. He would take care of the problem, then cover it up, make it disappear. The sheriff had never been the least squeamish that way.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Wrangled by B.J. Daniels!

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&n
bsp; Chapter One

  The knock at the door surprised Zane Chisholm. He’d just spent the warm summer day in the saddle rounding up cattle. All he wanted to do was kick off his boots and hit the hay early. The last thing he wanted was company.

  But whoever was knocking didn’t sound as if they were planning to go away anytime soon. Living at the end of a dirt road, he didn’t get uninvited company—other than one of his five brothers. So that narrows it down, he thought as he went to the window and peered out through the curtains.

  The car parked outside was a compact, lime-green with Montana State University plates. Definitely not one of his brothers, he thought with a grin. Chisholm men wouldn’t be caught dead driving such a “girlie” car. Especially a lime-green one.

  Even more odd was the young, willowy blonde pounding on his door. She must be lost and needing directions. Or she was selling something.

  His curiosity piqued, he went to answer her persistent knock. As the door swung open, he saw that her eyes were blue and set wide in a classically gorgeous face. She wore a slinky red dress that fell over her body like water. The woman was a stunner.

  She smiled warmly. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He waited, wondering what she wanted, and enjoying the view in the meantime.

  Her smile slipped a little as she took in his worn jeans, his even more worn cowboy boots and the dirty Western shirt with a torn sleeve and a missing button.

  “I wasn’t expecting company,” he said when he saw her apparent disappointment in his attire.

  “Oh?” She looked confused now. “Did I get the night wrong? You’re Zane Chisholm and this is Friday, right?”

  “Right.” He frowned. “Did we have a date or something?” He knew he’d never seen this woman before. No red-blooded American male would forget a woman like this.

  She reached into her sparkly shoulder bag and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “Your last email,” she said, handing it to him.

  He took the paper, unfolded it and saw his email address. It appeared he had been corresponding with this woman for the past two days.

  “If you forgot—”

  “No,” he said quickly. “Please, come in and let’s see if we can sort this out.”

  She stepped in but looked tentative, as if not so sure about him.

  “Why don’t you start with how we met,” he said as he offered her a seat.

  She sat on the edge of the couch. “The Evans rural internet dating service.”

  “Arlene’s matchmaking business?” he asked in surprise. Arlene Evans, who was now Arlene Monroe, had started the business a few years ago to bring rural couples together.

  “We’ve been visiting by email until you…”

  “Asked you out,” he finished for her.

  “Are you saying someone else has been using your email?”

  “It sure looks that way, since I never signed up with Arlene’s matchmaking service. But,” he added quickly when he saw how upset she was, “I wouldn’t be surprised if Arlene is behind this. It wouldn’t be the first time she took it upon herself to play matchmaker.” Either that or his brothers were behind it as a joke, though that seemed unlikely. This beautiful woman was no joke.

  She looked down at her hands in her lap. “I’m so embarrassed.” She quickly rose to her feet. “I should go.”

  “No, wait,” he said, unable to shake the feeling that maybe this had been fate and that he would be making the biggest mistake of his life if he let this woman walk out now.

  “You know, it wouldn’t take me long to jump in the shower and change if you’re still up for a date,” he said with a grin.

  She hesitated. “Really? I mean, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to. But you have the advantage over me. I don’t know your name.”

  She smiled shyly. “Courtney Baxter.” She held out her hand. As he shook it, Zane thought, This night could change my life.

  He had no idea how true that was going to be.

  ISBN: 9781459233829

  Copyright © 2012 by Dana Marton

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