Heart of a Lawman

by Patricia Rosemoor

  Saddle…she was riding a flaxen-maned sorrel past scores of people….

  Josie blinked and the moment was gone. Where had that come from? she wondered, hard-pressed to shake off the weird feeling it gave her.

  While the kettle was on the boil, Josie found the cabinet that held an assortment of teapots. Her gaze landed on one that had charm potential. She pulled it out and set it on the counter, then found a tray. By the time the kettle whistled, the tray was loaded. She filled the pot, then carried the tea tray into the parlor.

  Alcina was saying, “My daddy isn’t what he used to be, either—not that I would ever suggest as much to him. It’s hard on us, isn’t it? Our parents getting older.”

  “Older, but not necessarily wiser. At least not in Pa’s case,” Bart said as Josie set down the tray on the low table between them. “He doesn’t know how to wave a white flag, I guess. And teaching him is gonna be an experience I’m sure I’ll never forget. At least I hope I get that chance. He’s as much as said he could go at any time.”

  “What does his doctor say?”

  “Haven’t talked to the doc yet.”

  His gaze settled on Josie, no doubt because she stood there, staring at him, a wave of empathy washing through her.

  Trying to act naturally, she asked, “Want me to pour the tea?”

  “I can handle it from here,” Alcina said.

  Josie nodded but moved off slowly enough to see if Bart had any reaction to her choice of teapots—a fat white porcelain cat that resembled Miss Kitty. She thought she saw his lips twitch just a little at her joke. Probably as good as she was going to get. When his gaze slid to find her, she gave him a tepid smile—this charm thing didn’t seem to come naturally to her—but his attention was quickly commandeered by Alcina.

  “So when is it you expect your brothers to move back to the Curly-Q?” she asked as she poured.

  “Who knows if they’ll show at all.”

  “I can’t imagine Reed staying away, considering the circumstances.”

  The little hairs on her arms prickling again, Josie froze in her tracks. The way Alcina had said Bart’s brother’s name struck a definite chord in her….

  “Part of me thinks you’re right on that score. But the way Pa used to beat him down when he was working his butt off…I just don’t know if he’s got good enough reason to come back for more.”

  “I would think partnership in a family corporation would be enough. Reed always loved that spread better than anyone—your daddy and you included! Unless he has long-term obligations elsewhere, of course,” Alcina said pointedly.

  “Don’t know about any obligations. None to a wife or family if that’s what you mean.”

  “Really.”

  Really…?

  Alcina Dale was obviously more interested in Bart’s brother than in Bart himself, Josie realized as she returned to the kitchen.

  Now, why did that lighten her step as she took the back stairs up to the second floor?

  Maybe after she finished checking on the room, she’d figure out a way to implement her plan to charm the boots off the lawman.

  Josie only hoped she wasn’t tempting fate, somehow….

  From the linen closet, she gathered a fresh set of towels, then opened the Raton Room. The room might be narrow with only a single bed, a dresser and a rocking chair, but it was mighty cheerful, what with three windows on two walls letting in so much light. As Alcina had requested, she made sure everything in the room was in order, including opening the windows to let in a cross breeze.

  While she was rearranging one of the lace curtains, a fancy new red truck pulled around the building and parked. She gazed down at the tall, fair-haired young man who alighted from the driver’s seat and slapped a well-creased brimmed hat on his head. His jeans and denim jacket seemed equally worn.

  Strange, but he didn’t look the type to stay in a bed-and-breakfast, Josie thought as he rounded the truck to grab a single bag from the back.

  Then he hesitated and gave the building a long, serious stare.

  Not wanting him to spot her, Josie instinctively jumped back from the window. It wouldn’t do to let him think she was spying on him.

  Not that she could tell exactly where he was looking through those sunglasses he wore. Even as she thought it, he removed them. But she was too far away to tell anything anyhow.

  Suddenly the man jerked around as if startled and moved straight to the old chicken coop.

  Josie moved in closer to the window and barely got a glimpse of Miss Kitty all fluffed out before the animal disappeared into the rickety building itself. The man hesitated only a second before turning back to the house.

  Wondering what had irritated the cat this time, Josie took a last look around, left the bedroom and checked the bath. Everything in order. She hurried downstairs, expecting the new guest would be waiting for her to show him up. But from the sound of Alcina’s voice and footsteps on the front staircase, she guessed he was being seen to.

  Ready to try for charming, she swung open the door to the parlor. Empty. She was only marginally disappointed. Best-case scenario would be that Deputy Quarrels had already lost interest in her. Sighing at her reprieve, she bent over the table to remove the tea service.

  A glance out the front window assured her that Bart was actually leaving. He was just opening the door to his SUV. She watched him hop inside in one fluid motion and imagined him mounting a horse with equal grace.

  Shaking away the odd feeling that picture gave her, Josie immediately carted the tray into the kitchen and then headed outside to fetch the cat.

  Chapter Four

  Bart was still thinking about Josie Wales as he rounded up his kids for supper and herded them into the dining room. Felice had outdone herself, polishing the big pine table, the center of which was decorated with ivory candles of different thickness and heights, interlaced with dried flowers of the region. Five places had been set, so it looked like his father was going to join them for supper.

  Both kids went for the same chair. Daniel won the struggle.

  “Big jerk,” Lainey muttered.

  “Lainey, why don’t you sit here,” Bart suggested, indicating the end chair that was usually his. “And I’ll sit between the two of you.”

  “I’m going to help Felice,” his daughter said, already flouncing toward the kitchen.

  Bart looked at his son. “Could you possibly go easy on your sister for a while? You can see what a hard time she’s having, can’t you?”

  Daniel mumbled, “Yeah, sure,” and looked away.

  Leaving Bart to think about Josie some more. That woman had a way about her that inspired his interest, the real reason he’d taken his father’s suggestion to look up Alcina. Not that he hadn’t been glad to see his old friend, as well. Of an age, he and Alcina had gone through both grammar and high school together. At one time, he’d suspected Pa and Tucker Dale had more permanent plans for the two of them, but he’d never been drawn to Alcina in that way, nor she to him. He’d seen her more as the sister he’d never had, not like…

  He’d almost thought her name, Bart realized.

  Josie Wales.

  But, no, that was wrong. He wasn’t attracted to her. His curiosity was piqued, was all. A stranger in a ghost town, getting herself all tangled up in rescuing a discarded cat was an oddity in itself. Plus that stranger had been hurt—he’d seen it both in her face and in the way she’d had trouble moving. But when that stranger played mysterious, as well, not willing to give over one detail of her background, he couldn’t help but wonder…

  He should mind his own business, he knew, but it was hard shutting off the lawman part of him, badge or no badge. His father had been right about that.

  Coming back into the room with a dish of pinto beans and a basket of rolls she set on the table, Lainey frowned. “I thought Grandpa was eating with us.”

  “Would I miss a meal with my favorite granddaughter?”

  Bart spun toward his father, wh
o’d arrived on cue. Pausing in the doorway, practically beaming, Emmett Quarrels looked thinner, less robust than he had the last time Bart had laid eyes on him. And yet he also looked like a man who was content rather than one who was dying.

  Ignoring Bart’s instructions about not goading his sister, Daniel said, “You mean your only granddaughter.”

  Bart couldn’t miss the strange expression that crossed his father’s face.

  “Well.” The old man wheezed a little as he entered the dining room. “Don’t go getting all technical on me. I’m trying to say it does an old man’s heart good to see his grandkids. I’m glad you’re here. Both of you.”

  As he circled to his seat at the head of the table, he met Bart’s gaze, and yet Bart didn’t feel included in the warm welcome. His presence had been expected, although not necessarily appreciated. Big surprise. It really would kill the old man to express any kind of affection to one of his sons. He used to drone on about family loyalty. Love had never entered the discussion.

  “Good. Everyone’s here,” Felice said as she brought in a platter of grilled skinless, boneless chicken breasts and assorted grilled vegetables.

  “What’s that stuff supposed to be?” Emmett demanded.

  “Heart-healthy food.” Felice gave him a challenging expression.

  Emmett glared at her as he took his seat. “Next you’ll be trying to feed me oatmeal for breakfast instead of bacon and eggs.”

  “Excellent idea, Mr. Emmett.”

  “Over my dead body!”

  “Isn’t that the possibility?” Felice asked.

  Startled by Felice’s unnaturally harsh comment, Bart narrowed his gaze first on her as she set down the platter, then on his father. But both of them donned their players’ faces. His kids couldn’t hide their reactions quite so easily. Daniel was practically glowering, while Lainey appeared ready to burst into tears again.

  “It looks good, Felice,” Bart said, in an attempt to play peacemaker. “Anything you cook does. Sit.”

  “Of course, Mr. Bart,” she said smoothly.

  “Let’s eat.”

  For the next few minutes, conversation was directed at passing food and filling drink glasses.

  It had been years since Bart had partaken of a meal in this room. And yet it was all so familiar. The weathered trastero in the corner that held the same dinnerware he’d eaten off of as a kid. The long pine table along one wall that served as a buffet when the place got really crowded. Area rugs woven by Native Americans decades ago were still scattered over the planked floors. A chandelier made from an antique wagon wheel overhead. A real ranch dining room.

  His ranch now. Or was it to be his and his brothers?

  “So when do you expect Reed and Chance to arrive?” he asked his father.

  “Not exactly sure.”

  Noticing how particular the old man suddenly seemed to be about his pinto beans—as if he had to choose them one at a time from the big bowl—Bart narrowed his gaze and asked, “They didn’t give you a date?”

  “Reed’s the foreman on a ranch up in Colorado.”

  “I’m aware of that.”

  Bart had tried reaching Reed to no avail, however. He’d been too busy shipping cattle to return Bart’s call. Or maybe he just hadn’t wanted to talk to his big brother. No surprise there, either.

  “Pa,” Bart said, silently willing his father to be straight with him for once, “what exactly does that mean to us?”

  “You know your brother. He has a sense of honor that won’t let him leave until he sees the season through.”

  Aware that his father was being purposely vague, Bart pressed him. “So that means he’ll be here…when? Next month? Before the holidays?”

  “Probably then,” Emmett agreed. He took a bite of the chicken. “Hey, Felice, this tastes better than it looks.”

  “Why, Mr. Emmett, that almost sounds like a compliment,” she returned.

  “I think it’s all delicious,” Lainey said.

  “Me, too,” Daniel chimed in.

  “Sometimes it doesn’t hurt to try something new,” Emmett admitted, giving the kids a crafty expression. “Right?”

  But Bart wasn’t about to let his father off the hook so easily. “Whoa! We’re talking business here. What about Chance?”

  “Howard hasn’t exactly been able to run him down yet.”

  “What?”

  What had the lawyer been doing all these weeks? Chance couldn’t be that hard to find. All Howard Stiles had to do was check every rodeo in the southwestern states. If Chance wasn’t riding broncs, someone was bound to know where he was.

  “Sounds like your lawyer isn’t doing his job.”

  “He has a lead on Chance, so don’t you worry.”

  “How can I not worry when this place is too big for one man to work?”

  “Maybe you’re familiar with the concept of neighboring.”

  Bart couldn’t miss the familiar sarcasm his father aimed his way. “On sixty thousand acres? More than two thousand cows plus calves plus more than a hundred bulls. That’s expecting a lot from people I don’t even know anymore.”

  “Well, I know ’em. And there’re four of us here if you include Moon-Eye and Frank.”

  Moon-Eye was getting up in years, not to mention the hired man wouldn’t step one of his boots in a stirrup, so forget his actually riding a horse. His work was limited to chores around the buildings, and anything that could be done by truck. Cattle on the Curly-Q were still moved the traditional way—by men on horseback with the help of good cattle dogs. And Frank Ewing, whom Felice had mentioned earlier, was an unknown quantity as far as Bart was concerned.

  “Four,” Bart repeated, staring down his father. “Let’s see—me and Moon-Eye and Frank make three if my math is any good. You weren’t thinking about Daniel here, were you? ’Cause he’s got to go to school, so any help he gives us is minimal—weekends only if his homework is done.”

  Emmett coughed. Or maybe he was just clearing his throat, Bart thought wryly.

  “Well, I was kinda thinking I could do some of the easy stuff,” his father said. “You know—drive a feed truck once in a while—”

  “Not until I talk to your doctor.”

  Silence.

  Bart looked for the twitch in his father’s jaw that was a tell-all and was rewarded with it in seconds. The old man’s pot was stirred good.

  “What do you need to talk to Doc Baxter about, anyway?” he demanded.

  “About you— what else? I doubt he’s going to approve of a man with a failing heart doing anything more physical than turning on a television set.”

  “I’m supposed to watch TV all day? Why don’t you just take me out and finish me off now?”

  “I thought the dinner table was reserved for more pleasant conversation,” Felice interrupted, subtly tilting her head toward Lainey.

  His daughter was gripping her fork, staring at her food, starting to close herself off again, no doubt at the mention of illness and possible death.

  Feeling wretched, Bart tried to help the situation by bringing the conversation back to the ranch itself. “Hey, Pa, driving around the ranch today, I noticed more than a few cows still have their calves with them.”

  “Most do, actually,” Emmett admitted. “We’ve only got a few hundred head ready to ship out.”

  “Pretty far behind schedule,” Bart mused. “The first order of business, then, will be to hire a few hands to get the job done right away.”

  “You’re going to separate the babies from their mamas?” Lainey asked, seeming disbelieving.

  “As soon as possible.”

  “That’s just cruel.”

  “That’s the way of the world, little girl,” Emmett said. “The ranch world, anyhow. We run a cow-calf operation here. You know that.”

  “But why do you have to separate them?”

  Emmett didn’t hesitate. “To send them to another ranch that’ll raise and fatten them up for market.”

  La
iney’s face went so white her freckles seemed to pop. “That’s horrible!”

  “That’s just the way of the world,” he repeated, but this time, he didn’t elaborate.

  Lainey turned to Bart, her green eyes accusing once more. “I can’t believe you’d do that, Dad!” she said, her voice rising even as she stood. Her slight body trembled all over. “Children should never be separated from their mothers!” She blinked and the tears started to roll. “Never!”

  With that, she ran out of the room sobbing. Daniel stood so quickly that he nearly knocked his chair to the floor. His face was a mask of pain as he mumbled, “I’ll make sure she’s okay,” and then tore after his sister.

  Heart heavy, Bart said, “I should be the one to talk to her.”

  But as he pushed back from the table, Felice said, “No, Mr. Bart. She needs her brother now, and I think he needs her, as well. You lost a wife, but they share the pain of losing a mother.”

  He understood that particular pain, if not so sharply, Bart thought, remembering how his own mother had died when he was even younger than Lainey.

  When he was only a toddler, his father had managed to drive his tenderhearted mother away with sheer meanness. Or so he’d come to understand later. She’d divorced Emmett and had taken Bart with her from the Curly-Q to make a new life in Albuquerque with her parents. While Bart had been turned over to his father on occasion, his heart had never been in the visits, but he’d gone without a fuss so he wouldn’t cause more trouble.

  And then, when he was eleven, his mother had died of meningitis, of all things, having caught it at the local college where she’d been taking a class to better her chances at a good job. He couldn’t remember her being sick a day of her life before that. She was hardly cold in her grave when Emmett Quarrels had come to claim him from his maternal grandparents. Against his will, Bart had been rounded up and driven back to the Curly-Q, where he’d gotten to know—if not exactly like—his two half-brothers.

  Fight as they might, Daniel and Lainey were full-blooded siblings. They’d always been close. Daniel had alternately protected and tortured his little sister all her young life. They’d clung together through their mother’s funeral. And it was only right that they continued to cling to each other and to support each other now. Bart didn’t want to take that away from them.