The Lawman's Promise (Buttermilk Valley Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “My land is not up for debate,” she muttered. “Stop using lowdown strategies to get my home from me.”

  “I remember a time when you liked my touch. We could be that way again. You could keep your land, the house, have your grandmother home with you. I assure you that will happen,” he promised. “I’ll make it happen for you. You could have anything you want. Jewels. Horses. A new truck.”

  Blake took a step back as if she’d walked upon a snake in the tall grass. “Times have changed, Ethan. We can’t go back. We’ll never go back.”

  He swallowed hard. “I still love you. That hasn’t changed.”

  “You don’t know the meaning of love.”

  He chuckled, the cold sound grated her nerves. Any kindness in his face had now been exchanged for detachment. “This is business, honey. I’ll have your land one way or another. You know it.” He held her gaze.

  “Over my dead body, or yours.” She didn’t blink.

  “Are you threatening me, Blake?” His eyes lit. She humored him.

  “I’m only stating the facts. Your daddy might be in a luxurious nursing home a hundred miles away, but I wonder what he’d think of your business dealings? Another son using underhanded business tactics.”

  His skin paled. “Don’t make statements you can’t keep, darlin’. Now, I think our business is done here, don’t you?” he said in a low voice that made the hair on the back of her neck stand.

  The conversation was final and she realized if she didn’t leave on her own, he’d only call his goon back in and he’d manhandle her out the door.

  So, she gracefully turned and walked out.

  ****

  Duff Tyler removed his hat and hung it on the hook on the wall in his new office. He still couldn’t believe he was back in Buttermilk Valley as the new sheriff. After years as a Texas Ranger, this should be a piece of cake, but he had to keep in mind it was never smart to assume anything. Hell, he was ready to handle small misdemeanors and minor disputes, and spend some time with his dad after his heart attack.

  Sitting down at the desk, he eased back into the leather chair and propped his feet on the edge. He adjusted his bottom in the lumpy cushion, but a loose spring popped up and poked him. “Damn!”

  “You’re back. How’d it go?” He looked at the secretary, Sheila, who popped her head around the corner of the doorway.

  He greeted the blonde with a grin. “This town hasn’t changed a bit. People still get a little salt in their sugar container over some of the craziest things. Old man Bennet wanted to make a complaint because the neighbor’s dog came over and crapped in his front yard.”

  Sheila chuckled. “Get used to it. This is small town living and Hershel Bennet has nothing else to complain about, which is a good thing. How did it feel not having to pull your gun out to settle a dispute?”

  He shrugged, still getting used to the short-sleeved uniform shirt that fit him a little too snug. “Oh, I pulled my weapon and told them if I got another call over dog feces there was going to be hell to pay.”

  Her eyes widened. “You did?”

  “Just kidding, Sheila. We smoothed the issue out without any weapons being drawn, not from any of us.” He dropped his feet to the floor. “Are there any more chairs around here? This one ain’t the greatest.” He shifted and the springs popped, squealing in resistance.

  “I think there’s one in storage. Want me to grab it for you?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it. I could just switch this one out with Daryl. Think he’d notice?”

  “Come on, don’t play pranks with my husband. He’s hard enough to get along with as it is, especially since he’s on this new diet. You’d think he was starving.”

  Duff laughed. Sheila and the deputy had been married for over thirty years, and had worked at the sheriff’s department together for a majority of that time. Their five kids were all grown up and they had a couple of grandchildren. Sheila had mentioned to Duff that she planned on retiring within the next month so she could spend more time with her family. After a little persuasion, she promised that she’d stay on until she found a qualified replacement. Duff knew what that meant. They’d be starting from ground up. Everyone knew that he was the new sheriff, but Sheila was known as the one who actually ran the place. She knew the ins and outs and he needed her to stick around until he was a bit more understanding of how things were done in the office.

  “How’s the old homestead?” she asked.

  “Dad is as stubborn as always. He refuses to let me hire a few more workers to help with the place. He keeps adding more horses, but no more helpers.”

  “That’s Ross for you. He loves his horses. That’s what keeps him going, along with your sister, Kelly, and the twins. Since they moved in, he’s been wearing a bigger smile.”

  “Yeah, you say that, but I think my sister’ll be the death of him.” He rubbed his jaw. His sister and her kids had moved in a few months ago when she separated from her husband. Half the time, Kelly was out doing her own thing while Ross was watching after the six-year-old boy and girl that were as excited about being around the horses as Duff was at their age. He’d been doing his best to help out with Justice and Jasmine, and he liked the kids well enough. He loved his sister too, even if she made poor choices at times. He thought his father liked the idea that he had both of his kids and grandkids under one roof. Hell, Duff had even been pondering the idea of a wife and his own kids, living as a family on the ranch. At thirty, he guessed most people started thinking about their future.

  “Guess who I saw while I was out?” Sheila asked.

  “Elvis Presley?”

  “Someone better.”

  “Than Elvis?”

  “Blake McKenzie.”

  His chest tightened. He didn’t have any desire to talk about his childhood sweetheart with anyone. “I guess that’s always a possibility in a town this size.”

  “Have you seen her?”

  He swallowed against the constriction in his throat. “Twice since I’ve been back.” Once as she almost smashed into the back of a vehicle then took off like a bat out of hell. “Any calls for me while I was gone?” Changing the subject was the best.

  “Ethan Branson called. He wants you to call him back. He said it has something to do with Blake.”

  Why would Ethan be calling him about Blake? “Interesting.”

  “Well, call me if you need anything.” Sheila smiled and left him alone.

  Duff leaned his elbows on the desk and rubbed his temples. He closed his eyes for a mere moment and his mind conjured up an image of dark, chocolate-reddish curls framing a porcelain, oval face, with an upturned nose and vibrant violet eyes. Full, plush lips that begged to be kissed, and slender fingers that were meant to bring pleasure. Of course, this was all from a glance he’d gotten of her coming out of the market two nights ago. Blake hadn’t seen him because he hid behind a rack of potato chip bags while she was checking out. What the hell was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he just gone up to her and said hello? He’d never been afraid of her before.

  Then he saw her again, in her truck, but she’d flipped him off.

  Unfortunately, he knew, no matter when they finally saw each other again, she wasn’t going to be full of sweet, southern hospitality and pulling out the welcome wagon. After graduation, when he’d told her he’d enlisted into the Marines, he’d seen the pain that he’d caused her. He’d wanted her to understand that he felt obligated to fight for his country. Before she walked away from him standing there on that high school football field, she swore if she saw him again, she’d sucker punch him for leaving her.

  Damn. He swiped his palm down his face. He’d tried to explain to her that he wasn’t leaving her, and that once he got settled in, he’d send for her to come visit, but she didn’t want to hear one word of explanation.

  Hell, he didn’t have one memory of Buttermilk Valley that didn’t include her or their shenanigans as kids.

  Growing up, they’d been stuck together
at the hip and it was only natural that he had developed a crush on her. She had a fighting spirit, even back then. He’d been weak in the knees due to Blake McKenzie. That’s why one summer evening, behind the barn, he’d asked her to marry him and placed a bubble gum machine ring on her finger, promising that he’d spend forever with her. Of course, they’d been young. In fact, both of them had gone on to date others until one day in high school when he’d asked her to be his girl.

  He gave his head a slight shake. He’d left town, writing her a few times, but each letter was returned. Each unopened, his apology unheard. Obviously, she never wanted to see him again. Well, he was here to stay and he hoped the town was big enough for the both of them.

  He’d call Ethan and see what the man had to say.

  CHAPTER TWO

  BLAKE USED THE tips of her toes to push the swing into motion, then with more momentum until the chains creaked and resisted, sending a sharp pain through her temples. She mentally reminded herself to spray oil on them later. It slowed and she set it off again, leaning her head against the cedar wood plank and staring into the bright blue sky. The clouds appeared as fluffy and soft as cotton balls, and she could have fallen asleep…

  She closed her eyes.

  Her cell phone rang and vibrated next to her thigh. Popping her eyes open, she looked at the screen. Her best friend’s number was lit up. She hit talk. “Hey, Emily. I thought you were taking the kids to practice.”

  “I’m getting ready to, but not before I called you. I wanted you to know that Monica is doing much better. Thank you for going out on a limb for her. I don’t know how to thank you enough. That bastard Johnnie deserves to spend some time in a cell.”

  “You know I’d do anything to help you and your family. I know it hasn’t always been easy being her stepmother, but you are the only mother she knows.”

  “I keep giving myself pep talks, that this is only a stage she has to get through. I don’t remember being this wild as a teen.”

  “Excuse me?” Blake cleared her throat.

  “Okay, okay. I was the reason why my dad had grey hair before the age of thirty-five. But I make it up to them now. I even sent them on an Alaskan cruise.”

  “And Monica will get over this surge of teenage hormones too.”

  “At least she’s been talking to me a lot here in the last week. Kids are so much different than we were in high school. Are we really that old?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “You can say that because you have no kids.”

  That didn’t make Blake feel any better. “Yeah, there’s nothing quite like living alone. I don’t have to worry about the toilet seat being left up. Toys laying everywhere. No one to say ‘I love you’. This is the life.”

  “I’m sorry, hun. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It’s okay. I’m just a little sensitive.”

  “I guess this is a good time to mention who I saw at the bank today. Wanna take a stab who it was?”

  Blake thrummed her fingers against the phone. “No clue.”

  “Seriously?” Emily’s moan vibrated the line.

  “Look, I know he’s back in town. I’ve known for a while now.” Blake tucked her legs up under her.

  “You knew and didn’t tell me?”

  “What’s so interesting about Duff Tyler being in town?” She attempted to sound nonchalant and hoped her bestie didn’t pick up on any glimpses that Blake did care. A lot. She hadn’t thought of much else.

  “He took the job as sheriff and you know what that means, right?”

  “That he carries a gun and wears a badge?” she sniffed, twirling a curl around her finger.

  “Okay, smart ass. Yes, he has a gun and badge, but I’m saying he plans to stick around. I heard he’s moved back on the old homestead with his dad, along with Kelly and the kids. Just a measly half mile up the road from you.”

  “Emily, it wouldn’t matter if he was a hundred miles away or right next door. I don’t care that he’s here. I have bigger fish to fry.”

  “Is that so? Bigger than Duff? The boy that stole and broke your heart. Probably still owns a big piece of it even now.”

  “Wrong,” Blake protested.

  “Don’t lie to me. I know all of your secrets.”

  Blake laughed. “True, but he doesn’t own my heart or anything else.”

  “Okay, if you say so,” Emily said. “Let me warn you. Remember how we used to gush about how gorgeous he was back in high school?”

  Blake had hoped he would be bald, toothless and had a big gut, but after getting a glimpse of him today, age had done nothing but made him better looking. She should tell Emily that she already knew he was sexier than ever, but she’d have to admit then that he still made her all warm inside. “Yeah, because we were giggly teenagers. If I remember correctly, we even had a lot of fun talking about Trey, who you ended up marrying.”

  “Yeah, but the only lifting Trey does now is the Ding Dong cake to his mouth. Prepare yourself, honey. Time has been very good to Duff. I hope you can handle yourself when it comes to the new sheriff.”

  “No worries. I assure you, I cannot only keep my hands off him, but if he steps a foot on my property I hope he has a search warrant because otherwise I’ll be sending him packing at the end of the barrel of my shotgun.”

  “Sweetheart, you know I love you, but there’s a reason why you’ve kept his belongings all of these years. Look, I understand. My ovaries still spasm when I think of my first love, Stan Miller, who took my virginity in the back of his Mustang. We all have one of those memories tucked away. If you need anything, even just to talk, you know I’m only a phone call away and I’ll bring chocolate provisions if I have to.”

  “I know and I appreciate your offer, but I have this under control. With any luck, I’ll never run into him.”

  “You keep telling yourself that. Talk soon.”

  The line went dead.

  Blake’s mind shifted to the ‘box’. She had no clue why she’d kept his things for all of these years. She could have easily taken the items to his dad, or even burnt them. Now that was an idea.

  Getting up from the swing, she went inside and upstairs to the spare bedroom where she kept all of her junk. Sure enough, in the closet she found the box marked “Duff’s shit”. She hauled it out of its hiding place and gave it a small kick with her toe. There came a time when a woman needed to empty out the trash and take a leap forward. Now seemed as good of a time as any for her.

  Grabbing the box, she carried it downstairs, stopping in the kitchen to get a lighter. She caught a whiff of the trash and decided to take it out as well. Might as well get rid of everything while she was at it, which included old Christmas cards that she found herself crying over. She’d spent the last holiday alone, unless one could count the wine bottle she’d held real tight while she drank every last drop. She hadn’t even bothered putting up a tree, or decorating. The McKenzie tradition had always been going all out for the occasion, buying lots of gifts, but most importantly, having a big dinner inviting everyone on Christmas Day. Dumping the stack of cards, wrinkled and bent from her reading them over and over, into the box, she realized they were a symbol of her hope that things would change. She grabbed them and put them back onto the counter. Baby steps.

  Passing her grandmother’s apron hanging on a hook, Blake lifted the soft material to her nose and breathed in deeply. The cotton still smelled of peaches and cinnamon. Tears welled in her eyes and she forced the emotion back. She would never move forward if she continued to dwell in pain. She let go of the apron and the material swung back into place, but something fell out of the pocket. Picking up the folded piece of paper, Blake opened it and read in her grandmother’s writing…

  “Take Ross a pot of soup. Sew Blake’s button back on. Say a prayer for the farm.”

  This was her grandmother, through and through. She left notes for everything. Tucking the scrap of paper into the front pocket of her shorts, Blake slipped into her flip flo
ps, with the box tucked under one arm and the garbage bag in the other, she went out the back door to the fire ring where they were known to have a bon fire in times of celebration. Well, this was certainly a moment of festivity—or more like liberation. To prove to herself as much as anyone, she was going to rid herself of the old life, and that meant Duff.

  Digging into the trash bag, she pushed aside a baked bean can and a candy bar wrapper, finding the newspaper she’d tossed away last night. She didn’t have much skill at starting fires, but she was on her game. The newspaper caught fire and the flames took little time before they were hot enough to burn the remnants of a person’s past.

  Dragging off the lid to the box, she found Duff’s picture on top. Growling under her breath, she found great pleasure in tossing it onto the fire. She needed to remember to grab the copy she had in the photo album and burn it too. Then she came to an old jean jacket and threw it in, watching the flames quickly eat at the dry-rotted fabric. She sighed.

  Come to think of it, that was my jacket.

  Tossing in a dried flower, a drawing of a horse he’d given her in second grade, and a few other insignificant items, thick, black smoke circled around the pit, but she felt nothing but relief. This was better than the ice cream she polished off last night. She should have done this years ago.

  Then she found an old shirt that had more holes than a slice of Swiss cheese. That one wouldn’t take long to scorch. She smiled as she dumped it on top of the flames.

  Next came a card he’d given her for Valentine’s Day. She read the first line, “Roses are red…” Ugh. She had no need for love poems, especially those that meant nothing.

  She reached down to pick up a pair of movie tickets and something rolled across the bottom of the box, dinging to a stop. The sun glinted off the object, causing her heart to skip a beat as she realized what it was. The ring Duff had given her behind the barn when they’d promised each other forever. Slipping the tarnished ring onto her pinky, she stretched the flexible band until it fit above her knuckle. The fake diamond sparkled.