The Cowboy & The Shotgun Bride (The Brides of Grazer's Corners #1)

by Jacqueline Diamond

  “Surely someone in the doctor’s family would know how he got the papers,” Kate pressed.

  “His daughter’s been out of the country. I haven’t been able to reach her.” Mitch gripped the edge of the table. “Kate, you have to understand. I was twenty-five years old, not long out of college, and grieving for my father. I had no expertise in dealing with finances, no money for lawyers, and no friends in high places.”

  “And this man Parkinson had his buddy the police chief,” she filled in.

  She could read the rest in his tortured gaze. “They threw me off my ranch. I love that place, Kate. It’s called the High C—my grandfather named it in Grandma’s honor, because she used to be a singer. He built the house with his own hands. I meant to live my whole life there.”

  No wonder he appreciated her old-fashioned kitchen, she reflected with a wrench of sympathy. “You must have tried to get it back.”

  “I did everything I could think of, everything legal,” Mitch said. “I felt like I’d betrayed my own family, letting it go that way. I didn’t have enough money to pay a lawyer for a long court battle, and that made me mad.”

  Understanding dawned. “So you went to law school yourself.”

  “If you can’t lick ‘em, join ’em.” Mitch shrugged. “I guess Billy Parkinson figured I was gone for good when I left Gulch City. He couldn’t have been happy when I came back and hung my shingle. And especially when I filed my own lawsuit.”

  So far, Kate was strongly on Mitch’s side. She supposed the whole story could be invented, but the APB did list him as an attorney. “So, who was Jules Kominsky and how did you come to shoot him?”

  Mitch seemed absorbed in staring at one of his boots. “Excuse me, but do you have any leather polish?”

  “Are you joking?” she asked.

  “Ma’am... Kate, a cowboy always takes care of his equipment, and there’s nothing more important than his boots.” Mitch swung his legs to the floor. “I’m afraid I’ve let things go this past week.”

  “Is this some kind of delaying tactic?” she asked.

  A startled expression crossed his face. “Maybe so. I’d forgotten how good it feels, sitting in a kitchen in a woman’s house, with lace curtains at the windows and those pretty stenciled flowers around the wall. Reminds me of home, the home I don’t have anymore.”

  Kate’s memory flashed back to the time a fourthgrader got sent to her office as a habitual troublemaker. In the course of half an hour of talking, all the bluster had peeled away and she’d found herself facing a lonely little boy in desperate need of attention.

  She’d been able to help him with the cooperation of his mother and the Big Brothers program. Mitch wasn’t going to be so easy to rescue, but she found herself wanting very much to try.

  A real sheriff would never react this way, Kate told herself as she found some leather cleaner and rags under the sink. On the other hand, this isn’t exactly a hardened criminal you’re dealing with here, either.

  In fact, there was something endearingly domestic about Mitch as, with apologies, he covered a chair with newspaper, removed his boots and began spreading polish on them. Moose got his shoes polished by a man who worked at the car wash, and she had a suspicion he didn’t tip very well, either.

  She must stop having negative thoughts about Moose, Kate scolded herself. Everybody had annoying habits, including her.

  Mitch resumed talking as he buffed. “Last week, Billy asked me to meet him at the ranch to discuss a settlement. I didn’t believe any good would come of it, but civil cases can drag on for years, so I figured I should hear him out.”

  “And this Kominsky fellow tried to shoot you?” She realized she was leading the witness. “I mean, what happened then?”

  “When I got there, the house was lit up but nobody answered the bell,” Mitch replied. “There was a note that said they were downstairs watching TV and just to come on in. So I did.”

  Kate scribbled some more. She was running out of paper.

  “You can guess the rest.” He rubbed hard on one patch of heel, scraping away a speck of dirt so small Kate couldn’t see it. “I called out, but no one replied. When I reached the hall, Jules fired at me. I dodged and he missed, so I shot back.”

  “You brought a gun?” she asked.

  “I’d have been a fool not to.” Mitch frowned at his boot. “Dum. I think the leather’s nicked.”

  “Did you hit him?”

  “Not the first time. I shouted at him to put his gun down,” he said. “His words, and I heard them quite clearly, were, ‘Not for what Billy’s paying me.’ ”

  “ ‘Not for what Billy’s paying me,’ ” she repeated in disgust, and wrote it down.

  “I didn’t want to shoot him, Kate. I didn’t like him much, and I especially didn’t like him living on my ranch, but I never killed a man before and I wish I could have avoided it this time.”

  “He fired again?” she asked.

  “Twice. I had nowhere to turn in that hallway, no choice but to shoot back,” Mitch said. “I could hear people coming up from the basement just as he got hit, and I figured they had guns too, so I ran.”

  Then, she gathered, Mitch fled Gulch City with Billy’s gang after him and a biased police chief waiting to railroad him. It all tracked, except for one point.

  “So, just naturally you drove halfway across the country to Grazer’s Comers, well-known haven for escaped murderers, and hid out at my wedding in full view of no more than a couple of hundred people,” Kate said. “Very sensible.”

  His mouth twisted. “It does sound odd. You see, my only chance of clearing my name is to produce a witness who can verify what really happened.”

  He couldn’t possibly think one of those bandits was going to vouch for him. “There was someone else at the ranch?” she asked.

  Mitch began working on the second boot. “My cousin, Loretta. She loved that place and blamed me for losing it, so she’d gone to work as Billy’s secretary. She didn’t exactly see what happened that night, but she must have heard something to indicate they were expecting me, that I didn’t just break in. Without her, I don’t have a defense.”

  “You thought she might come here?” Kate set aside the notebook, which was full. Besides, they seemed to have reached the end of the story.

  “She grew up in Grazer’s Comers,” Mitch said. “Loretta Blaine. You wouldn’t happen to know her, would you?”

  Of course she did, at least slightly. Loretta was half a dozen years younger than Kate, but it would be hard not to recognize the woman with the most beautiful voice in the history of the church choir.

  “I headed a drive to raise a scholarship so she could finish her last year at the music conservatory,” Kate said. “She’s your cousin?”

  “The only one I’ve got. We’re a small family.” He finished burnishing the boots to a dazzling shine. “I think maybe she got scared when she saw how violent Billy’s boys could get. I was hoping she’d come back here and maybe turn up at church.”

  “I haven’t seen her in ages,” Kate said.

  “It was just bad timing, about your wedding.” With loving care, Mitch inspected the leather. “It was my intent to drop by the Sunday service, but when I called to find out the time, the pastor said there was a wedding on Saturday and invited me.”

  “The whole town was invited,” Kate said.

  “That’s how it ought to be,” Mitch said. “Doesn’t seem like people do things that way much anymore.”

  He pulled on the boots and sat regarding her. Silence lengthened, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall.

  Finally he said, “These rags are pretty dirty. I can run a load of wash if you like.”

  Kate couldn’t believe it. A man described as armed and dangerous was offering to do laundry rather than leave a few soiled cloths behind. “Thanks, but that would take too long. Just keep them or toss them.”

  “I guess that means you want me to leave, huh?” he said.


  Judging by the way his jaw was twitching, Kate gathered he wanted to say more. “What else?” she said.

  “What else what?”

  “What else were you going to say?”

  “I always figured teachers were mind readers,” Mitch said. “I guess principals are even worse.”

  “We try,” said Kate.

  “I’d like you to come with me.” Mitch held his gaze steady, boring into hers. “Loretta’s obviously in a panic. Seeing you might at least calm her down long enough to talk to me.”

  “I’m the sheriff,” Kate said. “It’s bad enough if I let you go. I certainly can’t go with you.”

  “Consider it an investigation.” For the first time, she could see a hint of lawyerlike caginess in his argument. “You’d be solving a crime.”

  “Texas isn’t my jurisdiction,” she said.

  “You’ve had a bunch of bad guys shoot up the church here in Grazer’s Corners,” Mitch argued. “That is your jurisdiction.”

  “And having a woman along would make you a lot less conspicuous,” Kate guessed. “Not to mention the practical advantages of traveling with your own personal sheriff. I’m sorry to disillusion you, Mitch, but I don’t even have a badge yet, let alone know how to shoot a gun. I just got elected.”

  His mouth curved into a boyish smile. “Then consider it an adventure. I’m guessing that you could use one before you settle down with—what’s his name?”

  “Oh, my goodness, Moose!” Kate jumped up and flew to the wall phone. “He must be crazy with worry!”

  “Your fiancé is named Moose?” Mitch asked.

  She started to point out that it was a nickname, then decided she didn’t want to hear whatever comments he would make about the name Bledsoe. Instead, she pushed the rapid-dial button for Moose’s cellular phone.

  His familiar tenor answered on the second ring. “Harmon here.”

  “Moose? It’s me!”

  “Kate! What’s that animal done to you?”

  “Excuse me?” she said.

  “Jeanie Jeffrey told us about the All Points Bulletin. Has that monster, has he, well... has he?”

  “Has he what?” Then it hit her. “Moose Harmon! First of all, that man saved my life! Second, I barely escaped a hail of bullets, and you’re worried that he might have compromised my virtue? I can’t believe it!”

  “Well, that sort of man, you never know what he’ll do,” Moose snorted. “And I’ve waited a long time for this.”

  She could feel steam shooting from her ears. “I’m all in one piece, thank you very much.”

  “Where are you? Is he gone?” Moose demanded.

  Kate was in no mood to be interrogated. “This man has been framed for a crime he didn’t...didn’t exactly commit. Since, thanks to you, I happen to be the sheriff here, I’ll handle things my way.”

  “Handle things?” he said. “This isn’t some boy accused of throwing spit wads in class. I’ll take over now, Kate.”

  “You’ll what?” She couldn’t believe his nerve. “Excuse me, when did you get elected to be the law around here?”

  “I’m calling in the authorities,” growled Moose. “Whether you like it or not.”

  “I am the authorities,” she cried before she could stop herself, “and if you go over my head, Moose Harmon, I will never ever walk down the aisle with you as long as I live, and you can wait for you-know-what until your...your ego falls off!”

  “But Kate—”

  “And for your information, I’ve got an attorney assisting me on this investigation,” she snapped. “So you pipe down and hang tight, and I’ll be back when I’m back!”

  She slammed the phone into its cradle. It was the first time Kate had ever hung up on anyone.

  “Need help packing?” asked the cowboy, an amused gleam in his eye.

  “I’m already packed,” said Kate, and went to get her suitcase.

  Chapter Four

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this.” They were swinging north around the town through an almond orchard. It was a roundabout route to the freeway, but Kate still feared Moose might alert the CHP to watch for them.

  It would be the ultimate humiliation for the sheriff of Grazer’s Corners to get pulled over and taken into custody in her own bailiwick. If that happened, she would spend the rest of her life devising ways to make Moose miserable.

  But he hadn’t actually done anything wrong yet, so why was she angry with him? She had never imagined she could feel so mixed up and fluttery and snappish and embarrassed. all at once.

  This wasn’t the rock-steady Kate Bingham she’d known for thirty-one years. But she had a good idea what the problem might be.

  Today was supposed to be her wedding day, and tonight her wedding night. She’d been looking forward to this event for nearly half her life.

  Then something had gone wrong. The strangest part was that she felt suffused with a sense of relief.

  Brides and grooms often got cold feet, or so she’d heard. Maybe that explained why, instead of returning to the church, she had grabbed her suitcase and piled into the pickup with Mitch.

  Kate hadn’t been able to bring herself to consider the consequences, and darn it, she still couldn’t. “Did you slip something into my coffee? I don’t feel like myself.”

  At the wheel, Mitch rolled his window down partway. “Don’t blame me, Miss Kate. It was that boyfriend of yours who got your dander up.”

  “He can be annoying,” she agreed. “But he’s a good man, underneath.”

  “He must be, if you love him,” said her companion.

  “Do you always say the right thing?” she asked.

  “I’m a lawyer.” A fly blew in through the open window. He squinted at it assessingly.

  “They teach you diplomacy in law school?”

  “No. They teach you survival, by default.” With a smooth unhurried gesture, Mitch batted the fly back outside. “You either figure out the unwritten rules and snow the heck out of your teachers, or they bounce you. Most law school flunkouts don’t have a clue where they went wrong.”

  “It sounds horrible,” Kate said.

  “There’s a certain satisfaction when you make it.” Mitch rolled up the window. “But I don’t guess you come out in a real friendly mood.”

  They reached a crossroads, and Kate pointed left, away from the mountains. “I guess we’d better start angling toward the freeway. Of course, that depends on where we’re going.”

  Mitch tipped back his Stetson but didn’t respond. Around them, the almond groves yielded to vineyards. Overhead, a hawk circled lazily, and she wondered whether some hapless rabbit had made the mistake of venturing from its burrow.

  “Where are we going?” Kate pressed. She wished she knew how to conduct an investigation, and then it occurred to her that the proper technique would probably involve an office, a computer, a fax machine and a telephone.

  Not riding in a truck through the countryside. Not keeping company with a fugitive. Not making sideways glances at a tanned face and a taut physique, and wishing his belt buckle would sneak up on her again.

  “I’ve been giving it some thought,” Mitch said at last.

  The hawk circled a few more times and flew away. The shadow of a distant barn lengthened in the afternoon sunlight, and Kate discovered she was hungry.

  “What exactly have you thought up?” she asked.

  “There’s three things we have to do.” He flipped down his sunshade as the road curved and the lowering sun hit their eyes dead-on. “First, avoid cops. Second, avoid Tiny Wheeler and his gang.”

  “Tiny Wheeler?” she said. “That would be the big hulking one?”

  Mitch nodded. “The fellow who limps, he’s called Nine Toes Blankenship. And the kid, he’s Dexter Dinkens. Eager but not notoriously bright.”

  “I guess the number three thing we have to do is to find Loretta,” Kate said.

  “Yep.” Mitch tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as if keepin
g rhythm to music that she couldn’t hear. “You know her, right? Any idea where she might go?”

  Kate pictured the young woman as she’d looked a year and a half ago when she soloed in the church Christmas concert. Curly brown hair tumbling to her shoulders, olive-colored eyes wide and full of enthusiasm.

  “She loves music,” Kate recalled. “It’s the only thing I really know about her.”

  “My whole family’s musical,” Mitch said.

  “Singing cowboys?”

  He laughed. “Not exactly. My grandmother Luisa was an opera singer over in Europe. She was on tour in Dallas when she met Grandpa. The story is, he went all the way to Italy to win her hand.”

  “I’m surprised she would leave her homeland. Especially for a man she couldn’t have known very well.”

  It occurred to Kate that Mich had induced her to abandon, at least temporarily, her town and her fiancé. But she doubted Mitch’s grandfather had rescued Luisa from gunslingers.

  “She used to tease that it was because she saw World War II coming,” Mitch said. “But anyone could see they were crazy in love. My Aunt Micaela, Loretta’s mom, inherited Grandma’s beautiful voice. She chose not to make a career of it, though.”

  “What about you?” Kate asked. “Do you sing?”

  They were passing a cotton field. “Not in public,” Mitch replied.

  “This isn’t public,” she couldn’t resist saying.

  “It’s more public than the shower.”

  She decided not to argue. “Let’s get back to your cousin. She couldn’t have been at the ranch long. As I recall, she just finished music school in January.”

  “She’d only been there a few months,” he agreed. “It’s possible that when she fled, she headed back to the conservatory to see her friends. Any idea where it is?”

  “It’s called the Sungold Hills Academy of Music,” Kate said. “That’s in Pasadena, just north of downtown L.A. But how can you be sure she’s not still in Texas?”

  “It’s my home state, not hers. Her only tie is to the High C—she used to spend summers with us,” he explained. “I can’t see why she’d stay in a state where she doesn’t know anyone. I don’t suppose you know who any of her friends are, do you?”