by Stacy Finz
Interesting how Raylene used to make fun of Tawny’s father, when Franklin Wade was twenty times the man that Ray Rosser was. Never once had he raised his voice to Tawny, let alone his hands. Tawny had been an ugly girl, but everyone in Nugget knew that Franklin thought the sun rose and set on her.
“You look just like your ma,” he used to say. Liza Wade was a true beauty and everyone in Nugget knew that too.
“I’m just glad that your mother doesn’t work for him anymore,” Tawny said.
“I made sure of that.” Lucky got up and brought his dish to the sink.
“When’s the reporter coming?”
“Few weeks.”
“You know what I think we ought to do?” The idea had just come to her. “I think we should talk to Harlee Roberts. Obviously, we won’t tell her what happened at the Rock and River. But she’ll know how we should handle this guy.”
“It’s not a bad idea. The truth is, I wouldn’t be opposed to telling people, given how absurd the story is. Especially now, when everyone can see that Raylene and I are together. But it would be embarrassing to Raylene and confusing for Katie.”
“I agree,” Tawny said. At least to the Katie part.
“You gonna introduce yourself to Brady?”
“Huh? Why are you bringing that up again?”
Lucky locked his coffee-brown eyes on hers. “No reason. Just curious.”
Chapter 8
Jake sat at his desk at the police station, eating a Bun Boy burger, searching weekend getaways on the Internet.
“What do you think of this one?” he called to Connie, who came from her desk to peer over Jake’s shoulder.
“Bodega Bay? I guess it’s okay if you like fog and Alfred Hitchcock.”
“What are you talking about? Condé Nast Traveler calls it one of the most scenic coastal towns in the country.”
“Vegas. That’s where I would take her.”
Yeah, because nothing said romance like a casino full of cigarette smoke and old folks playing slot machines. “I’m not taking Cecilia to Las Vegas.”
Rhys came out of his office. “What’re you doing?”
“Lover boy here is trying to find a romantic getaway for him and Cecilia Rodriguez,” Connie said.
“Let me see.” Rhys bumped Connie out of the way so he could view Jake’s computer screen. “Scroll down . . . Nah, you can do better.”
“Like where?” Jake asked. “I’ve only got three days. And I don’t want it anywhere around here.”
“Wine country,” Rhys said. “Something in the Napa Valley. I bet Nate could hook you up. He knows people.”
“Yeah? You think that’s better than the coast? What about the Sea Ranch?”
“Never been.” Rhys leaned around Jake to type St. Helena into the search engine.
“I’ve been to the Sea Ranch,” Connie said. “The road made me want to kill myself. It’s like a sheer drop right into the ocean. I had to pull over to throw up. You should go to San Francisco.”
“I don’t want to go to San Francisco.” Although he lived in Nugget now, Jake had had enough of big city noise and traffic to last him a lifetime. “What’s there to do in wine country besides drink wine?”
“Good food,” Rhys said. “It’s pretty there. Women like it.”
“That’s a plus since Cecilia’s not too hot on leaving her grandchild.”
The bell above the station door chimed and Wyatt walked in. He stopped to take in everyone huddled around Jake’s computer. “What’s going on?”
“I’m looking for a place to take Cecilia for the weekend. Rhys says wine country.”
“Why not Tahoe?” Wyatt wanted to know.
“Because it’s thirty minutes from here,” Jake said. “Too close to keep Cecilia from running home the first time Katie has a sniffle.”
“Now that whole thing turned out unpredictable,” Wyatt said, shaking his head. “Lucky Rodriguez. Who would’ve thought?”
“Why do you think Tawny kept it a secret all this time?” Connie asked. “I remember how shocked everyone was when she got pregnant. The girl was even shyer than I was.”
“News flash, Connie, you were never shy.” Wyatt jumped away before Connie could slug him. “Lucky was a horn dog back then, but Tawny Wade was definitely not his speed. He was always hanging around all those girls in Raylene Rosser’s crowd. The popular girls.”
“They’re all fat now,” Connie said.
“Uh, Raylene looks pretty good to me,” Wyatt said.
“I’m telling Darla,” Connie teased. “What about you, Rhys. Were you surprised?”
“I’m a cop. Nothing surprises me. Besides, I was six years ahead of them in school. By the time they graduated from training wheels, I was freezing my ass off on a fishing boat in Alaska.”
Jake was the only one of the bunch who hadn’t grown up in Nugget. Rhys had left when he was eighteen and had eventually gotten hired on at Houston PD, working his way up the ranks before coming home and making chief.
“What does Cecilia say about it?” Connie asked Jake.
“Nothing that I would tell you,” he responded. Everyone in this town was a gossip vulture. “What’s important here is that Katie has a great father and grandmother in her life now. What happened ten years ago is irrelevant.”
“Have they gotten Lucky’s test results back?” At least Rhys had better sense than to spend his time dissecting other people’s love lives.
“Still waiting.” Jake tapped on his computer keys. “That’s why I want to get Cecilia out of here for a couple of days. To get her mind off it.”
“How’s Katie doing in the meantime?” Rhys sat sideways on Jake’s desk.
“So-so. She’s weak, tired, and often feverish. It’s to be expected.”
Rhys dragged his hand through his hair. “Jesus. If Emma ever got sick . . .”
“It’s rough,” Jake said, thinking of his own daughters. “I’ve got to give Tawny a lot of credit. This has been going on a long time and she somehow manages to hold herself up. At least she has help now.”
“Lucky is sure enamored with the kid,” Connie said. “I saw him with her at the Ponderosa yesterday. Raylene was with them. I guess they’re an item now.”
That’s another reason Jake wanted to get Cecilia out of town. When she found out about Lucky and Raylene, she went through the roof. Jake hadn’t always made the best decisions about women, but even he could tell that Raylene was a mess.
But Lucky was a grown man and Cecilia needed to accept that this was his life. And Jake had to be careful about getting in the middle. He hadn’t earned that right yet. Not with Cecilia and definitely not with Lucky. The young man was still leery of Jake, and Jake couldn’t blame him.
“I heard some reporter from Sports Illustrated is coming to town to interview him for a big spread in the magazine,” Wyatt said. “Darla says Sam told her that he already booked a room at the Lumber Baron.”
Jake looked at Rhys for confirmation. Rhys’s wife, Maddy, owned the inn with her brother, Nate Breyer, who’d recently married Sam.
“Yep,” Rhys said, and pointed at Connie and Wyatt. “Don’t you two have any work to do? If you don’t, I could find you some.”
They scattered like roaches and Jake stifled a chuckle. “You getting any closer to filling that position?”
The department had gotten authorization—and funds—from the city to add a fourth officer. It would mean fewer weekend and graveyard shifts for the rest of them.
“Nope,” Rhys said. “Believe me, I’m trying. If you’ve got someone in mind, let me know.”
Far off the beaten track, Nugget had a hard time attracting civil servants other than park rangers. Most of the population worked in ranching, for the railroad, or owned a small business. A few made the fifty-minute trek to Reno, the nearest large city. And some got seasonal work in Glory Junction, a resort town near the ski slopes.
“I’ll ask around,” Jake said, but knew that most of the guys from LAPD
who might be interested would be retirement age and looking for a second pension. Although Rhys wouldn’t say it, Jake knew he wanted young blood, not veterans who wanted to rest on their laurels so they could live in the mountains and support their fishing and hunting hobbies.
When Jake had approached Rhys about the job two years ago, he’d almost been turned down. It had taken a lot of groveling to persuade the chief that he wouldn’t be a slacker. Good thing, because this was the best job he’d ever had.
“St. Helena, huh?” Jake looked at the website Rhys had called up. “It looks like a spiffy version of Nugget.”
“Not even close.” Rhys made the lots-of-money sign with his fingers. “You want me to talk to Nate?”
“Sure.” If he could swing a deal, why not? Cecilia deserved something special. Maybe one of those spa treatments and definitely a fancy restaurant. Let someone cook for her for a change. “Thanks for doing—” Before he could say more the door came crashing open and Ray Rosser pushed his way past Connie.
“I want to talk to you.” Ray jabbed his finger at Rhys.
Jake stood up. Not that Rhys couldn’t handle himself. But you take on a cop, you take on the whole department. Wyatt and Connie also moved in.
“What can I do for you, Rosser?” Rhys said.
“I want Lucky Rodriguez arrested.”
“For what?”
“There’s illegal activity going on at that bullshit dude ranch of his.”
Rhys lifted his brows, dubious. Jake got the distinct impression that, like him, Rhys wasn’t a fan of Rosser’s. “What kind of illegal activity, Ray?”
“Drugs. They’re dealing out of there.”
“And you know this for a fact?”
“A couple of my hands were approached by a couple of his construction workers.”
“Approached?” Rhys threw his hands up in the air. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
“Your wife’s in bed with that boy, so I didn’t expect much out of you. I guess I’ll go to the sheriff.”
Ray stomped out and the four of them watched out the window as he climbed into his truck and zoomed away. Rhys shrugged on his jacket and grabbed a set of keys to one of the police SUVs from a hook off the back wall.
“I’ll come with you,” Jake said, knowing full well that Rhys was headed to Lucky’s.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve got a conflict of interest with dating Cecilia.”
“No more than you do, seeing as how your wife’s in bed with that boy.”
“Why did he say that?” Wyatt, not the sharpest tool in the shed, asked.
“Not literally, you idiot,” Connie said. “The Lumber Baron and Lucky’s cowboy camp are doing business together.”
“Oh yeah, I knew that.”
“All right, let’s go.” Rhys bounded out the door, Jake on his tail.
They made good time to the cowboy camp, where they found Lucky in a chute, straddling a bull. Four ranch hands were hanging off the fence, watching. Lucky motioned for one of the hands to open the gate and the bull came flying out into an old-style arena. Jake figured the setup had been left over from the Rolands’ summer camp. They must’ve held amateur rodeos. There was even an announcer’s booth. Both needed renovating. Some of the wood appeared rotted and the arena was missing many of its railings.
He and Rhys grabbed a seat on a set of metal bleachers—those at least seemed new—and enjoyed the show. Jake had only been to a few rodeos and it was exciting to watch Lucky stay glued to the bull’s back, holding on one-handed while the animal did everything it could to buck him off. The bull had to be at least two thousand pounds.
One of the guys waved a stop watch in the air and Lucky let go of the rope, dove off the animal, and raced for the nearest fence, practically vaulting over it. The hands thought it was the funniest thing in the world, laughing and slapping each other’s backs. That’s when Lucky noticed him and Rhys, pulled his hat out of the dirt, and ambled over.
“That was something,” Jake said.
“That’s Crème Bullee. I was testing him out for the beginners.”
“I hope you have good insurance,” Rhys said.
Lucky grinned. “One of you want to try?”
“Yeah, we’re gonna pass,” Rhys said. “But we do need to talk to you. You got somewhere private we can go?”
“Sure.” Lucky’s forehead creased in worry and he led them to a nearby shed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Katie, does it?”
“Nothing like that,” Rhys responded. “Ray Rosser came in the station today. He seems to think that some members of your crew are dealing drugs.”
“Ray Rosser is full of shit.” Lucky waved his hand in the air. “But you’re free to search as soon as you get a warrant.” He started to walk away.
“Son, come back here,” Jake called to his back.
“I’m not your son,” Lucky said, but he turned around to face them. “Rosser won’t stop until he drives me out of town. He doesn’t want me with his daughter. And you people are so ready to believe anything he says.”
“Look,” Rhys said, “we just want to ask you a few questions and nip any false allegations in the bud before it gets out of hand. You hear me?”
“What do you want to ask?”
“Is there even a slight chance some of your men could be dealing on the side?” Rhys shielded his eyes and gazed out over the ranch. “You’ve got a lot of guys coming and going. It could be happening right under your nose.”
“I suppose,” Lucky said. “But I’m more inclined to think that old man Rosser wants to give me a hard time.”
“You got names and social security numbers for all your employees?” Rhys asked.
“In my office. You want ’em?”
“I’d like to run them—see if anyone has a sheet. After that we’ll take it from there. In the meantime, keep your eyes open.” Rhys watched the hands herd the bull out of the arena and into a corral.
“Yeah. All right.” Lucky motioned for them to follow him to one of the other outbuildings.
They went inside, where a small metal desk took up one side of the room. The other side was piled high with boxes. Lucky thumbed through a cabinet, pulled out a file folder, and handed it to Rhys.
“Copy it and return it.”
“Thanks,” Rhys said. “Rosser said members of your crew had approached some of his hands. You know any of them who truck together?”
“Nope.” Lucky squinted his eyes. “What I do know is that Ray Rosser is a known liar.”
Jake locked eyes with Lucky and didn’t like what he saw. “You let us handle this, Lucky. Don’t go over to the Rock and River and borrow trouble. If he’s lying, we’ll find out.”
Lucky stared down at his boots. “Last time that sumbitch got in my face, I left town. I’m not leaving again.”
“Why’d he get in your face?” Rhys asked.
“He accused me of something I didn’t do. Like he is now.”
“Dealing drugs?” Rhys wanted to know.
It had been before Rhys’s time, but Jake knew about the rape allegations, because Cecilia had told him. Once Lucky left town, Ray hadn’t gone to the police.
“No,” was all Lucky said. “If you don’t mind, I’ve gotta get back to work.”
“I appreciate this.” Rhys held up the file. “I’ll get it back to you in the next day or two.”
As they left the office, Jake turned to Lucky. “The best thing you can do is ignore the man. Let us take care of this.”
Lucky gave him a slight nod and walked them to their vehicle. As they pulled out of the driveway, Jake rolled down his window and called to Lucky. “Stay out of this.”
They were almost to the highway when Jake told Rhys, “I give him ten minutes before he hauls ass over to the Rock and River Ranch. Stupid kid.”
Whoo-wee, Sam hadn’t been kidding. The man had loads of tattoos.
“Hello,” Tawny called out, and watched the cook nearly hit his he
ad on the top of the oven, he jumped so fast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No problem.” He straightened and Tawny could see that Sam had been right about another thing. The Lumber Baron’s chef was indeed one fine specimen of a man. About six feet tall; thick, wavy brown hair; and hazel eyes.
“I just came by to bring this back”—she handed him the casserole dish—“and to thank you for the delicious gratin.”
“You must be Tawny.” He shut the oven door, gestured for her to take a seat at the center island, and poured her a cup of coffee. Apparently she was staying. “How’s your little girl?”
“She’s doing okay. Thanks for asking . . . Brady, right?”
“Yep.” He came around to where she was sitting. “Nice boots. I hear you make them.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gazed around the kitchen. “I’ve never been back here before, just the public rooms. It’s nice.”
“Are you kidding me? It’s fantastic. Best kitchen I’ve ever worked in. Not as big, or as high-tech, but really functional.”
“Yeah, I’m not much of a cook, so I wouldn’t know.”
“What kind of stuff do you make?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Mac and cheese from a box, Hamburger Helper . . . like that.”
He made a face. “Wow. That’s terrible.”
“Not the best,” she admitted. “My daughter seems to like it, though.”
“I guess I kind of liked it too when I was a kid. Now, not so much.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing you can cook.”
“Anyone can cook,” he said. “But not everyone can make boots like that. Let me get a look at those up close.” Brady went down on his haunches to check them out.
Day of the Dead boots. A little wild, but Tawny liked them.
“Nice,” he said, examining the hand-tooled, brightly colored masks that covered the shaft of each boot. “How long does it take you to do something like this?”
“These took six months, but they’re pretty detailed. Most boots take five months or less, depending on the design.”