The Cowboy and the Cop

by Christine Wenger

  She smiled.

  It didn’t seem like Amber smiled often; she was very serious. Then again, she’d had some very serious things to tell him.

  He’d opened up to her and couldn’t figure out why. He’d never told anyone what he’d just told her.

  But Amber had changed. In high school, she was quiet and had ten-foot walls around her that only the brave—or stupid—would approach. She hadn’t had many friends, mostly due to her family’s moonshining activities and rumors of them selling hot car parts. The fact that she lived in a fairly dilapidated house surrounded by a junkyard made her the brunt of even more hurtful comments.

  He’d always quelled those kind of jokes, because he’d seen the sadness in her eyes, the tightness of her lips. He’d seen her hurry away for the protection of a dark corner, and then he’d seen her cry.

  Why hadn’t he done more to stop the jokes? Instead, he’d only succeeded in his classmates not joking about her in front of him, but he knew that it still occurred.

  He should have done more back then to help her, and now Amber had given him the biggest gift of his life by telling him about his ranch.

  “See you at home, Luke.”

  He took her hand and couldn’t decide whether to shake it or kiss the back of it. So he pulled her toward him in a hug and kissed her forehead.

  He heard her slight gasp and he smiled.

  She was smiling, too.

  There was a little crack in that wall around her and he wondered if he could knock it down for good and get to know more of Deputy Sheriff Sergeant Amber Chapman.

  Chapter Two

  “Six...seven...eight! He did it, ladies and gentlemen! He did it!”

  The announcer’s voice echoed through the cavernous arena in Billings.

  Luke did a flying dismount from his bull, Cowabunga. Then the animal pushed him with his huge nose across the arena dirt as if Luke was a rolling pin. Luke felt that the bull actually knew he’d beaten him. That was Cowabunga’s revenge.

  Every bone in his body screamed and his teeth rattled in his head. He knew he had whacked his knee again. It took all the effort he could muster to get up, run to the chute gate and climb to safety until the bullfighters got the massive bull out of the arena and into his pen.

  “The winner of the Iron Cowboy Showdown is none other than Luke Beaumont!” Dwight Frenza, the arena announcer, said enthusiastically.

  Luke knew the drill. When Dwight said, “Everyone put your hands together for the winner...” it was Luke’s signal to stand in front of the Professional Bull Riders sign and be interviewed and presented with a gold buckle and maybe a new pair of boots.

  The big check would come later.

  Good. He needed it.

  Behind the chutes, several monitors were set up and he stopped to see the updated stats. Between the slaps on his back and hearty handshakes from other riders and PBR personnel congratulating him, Luke noticed that his two brothers had dropped a couple places on the standings, but he had no doubt that his brothers would move up. Out of the top twenty-five professional riders, he was number one. Reed was now fourth and Jesse was fifth. Together they were known as the Beaumont Big Guns.

  Speaking of Reed and Jesse, both came bounding out of the locker room. Reed had a bag of ice taped to his shoulder and a black eye. Jesse had a bandage around his right hand and wrist.

  Reed pumped his hand. “Incredible ride, bro.”

  Jesse gave him a fist bump with his good hand. “You did it again, Luke! Three wins in a row.”

  “Everyone fairly okay?” Luke asked.

  “Just a little nick from my last bull’s horns,” Reed said.

  “Nothing worth mentioning.” Jesse shrugged. “But how are you doing, Luke? You took quite a rolling from Cowabunga.”

  “I think I trashed my knee again. It hurts like hell. I’ll head to Sports Medicine. They’ll probably tape it and remind me again to get surgery.”

  “Don’t forget the autographing, Luke. As usual, the fans will be lined up to see you,” Reed said.

  Luke looked forward to signings because he loved talking to fans of the sport. Once in a while, someone from his past would go through his line and it was cool to get reacquainted.

  Just like Amber Chapman. But they really hadn’t gotten reacquainted. She’d sternly pointed out that he’d better take care of the ranch and the town or both would disintegrate.

  Amber had looked good. Her shoulder-length hair was various shades of blond and her green eyes had looked like new spring grass. He didn’t know why he was being poetic when he thought of Amber. He must have been bucked off too many times and smacked his head.

  He’d thought about what Amber had told him for the entire week before the Billings event, but what he hadn’t done was talk to his brothers. He’d wanted to do that in person, and now was the time.

  Their Oklahoma roots went back to about 1836 when their great-great-grandfather, Pierre Beaumont, rode from Gonzales, Texas, to fight for the Alamo and stayed to establish a town and a ranch on the outskirts of San Antonio that he called Beaumont.

  Although there had been several Beaumonts who’d run the ranch, expanded it and cared for it like Pierre, Big Dan hadn’t given a hoot about anything since his lovely wife, Valerie Lynn O’Malley Beaumont, had died in his arms after being kicked in the head by a horse.

  Big Dan had easily fallen into booze and gambling, and resorted to yelling at his sons when they came to visit. He insisted that he didn’t want the ranch touched. Instead he wanted it frozen in time—the time that Valerie died.

  Luke waved his brothers over to a corner of the locker room. “I have to talk to you both. There’s a great steakhouse down the street. It’s called Old Barn or something like that. After the autographing, let’s grab some steaks and talk.”

  “Anything important?” Reed asked.

  “I think it is.”

  * * *

  LATER THAT NIGHT the three Beaumont Big Guns were treated like celebrities at the Old Barn. Over thick, rare steaks and curly fries with brown gravy, they posed for pictures, signed various pieces of clothing and several programs from the event.

  “You are so handsome, Luke, and the best rider—ever,” a much-too-young girl said with her hand on his arm. “Reed is the brainiac, and Jesse is the party guy, but you’re...uh...like both of them, and you’re the best. I have your poster over my bed.”

  As he removed her hand, he was amazed that she had his two brothers nailed perfectly. And he...well, she wasn’t the first fan who’d commented on his looks. As for being the best rider ever, he could think of many who were much better. He was just lucky enough to be on top right now. It could change at any minute.

  Actually it was going to change soon. He wasn’t going to ride in other circuits over PBR’s summer break. He was going home for a while before Amber Chapman handcuffed him and dragged him home.

  During a quiet moment, Luke turned to his brothers. “Hey, I want to talk to you about the ranch. It’s going on the auction block for back taxes in one week. Dad hasn’t paid the taxes since Mom died.”

  “But we sent him money,” Reed said.

  Luke sighed. “Obviously, he drank it away.”

  Reed took a draw on his beer. “Three years is a lot of back taxes.”

  “How do you know all this?” Jesse asked.

  “I talked to Amber Chapman—or rather, she talked to me and let me have it. You remember Amber. Now she’s a deputy sheriff, and said she’s arrested Dad three times. The third time he got probation and is in rehab right now. His probation officer is Matty Matthews.”

  “No kidding,” Jesse said in disbelief.

  Reed grunted. “Dad’s on probation? And sitting in rehab? Knowing how he has been acting since Mom died, he isn’t going to last long at either
one. I know Matty Matthews and he’s not going to take any crap from Dad. Big Dan will soon be in big-boy prison and doing big-boy time.”

  Luke leaned forward. “We could pay off the taxes. There’s one week before the auction. If you guys are going to keep riding, I’ll go home and bid on it. During the summer, I’ll get things repaired and fixed up.”

  The three brothers sat in silence until Jesse spoke.

  “It’s all hard to take, but remember when we were kids, we constantly played Musketeers. Remember our oath?”

  Jesse put his right hand in the middle of the table, palm down. Reed grinned and put his on top of his younger brother’s. Luke put his hand on top of the stack.

  “One for all and all for one!” the Beaumont brothers vowed.

  “Good.” Luke knew his brothers would come through. “I’m glad you feel the same as I do. Mom wouldn’t have wanted the ranch to fall into ruin. When Dad snaps out of his funk, he’ll realize that he almost lost the whole enchilada. Maybe he’ll care then, maybe not.”

  Luke continued. “We’ll have to pool our resources for the auction, and it might take a huge chunk of change, especially if other people bid, too. Luckily, we’re all riding great and winning at the present moment.” Luke chuckled. “I have a bunch of commitments that I can’t escape during the next several days—pictures for some calendar and a jeans commercial. But I’ll be at the auction—I promise—and I’ll be in touch with more information.”

  Jesse nodded. “Looks like Reed and I will be picking up another circuit for the summer to keep the money coming in. Okay with you, bro?”

  Reed took a draw on his beer. “No sweat. We’ll ride in Tucson.”

  Luke got up from the table. “We need some wins, brothers, so good luck. The ranch is going to take a lot of the green stuff.”

  “Don’t forget the check, Mr. Gold Buckle.” Reed picked up the bill and handed it to Luke. “You know our rule—winner pays.”

  “Yeah, cowboy. You make the big bucks,” Jesse added.

  Since his brothers hadn’t hesitated to pitch in to get the ranch back in shape, Luke was never so happy to pay a check and take their kidding.

  Now, if only things would go as well with Big Dan Beaumont.

  * * *

  THE TOWN OF Beaumont was unusually free of calls for a Monday morning, so Amber pulled out her study guide for the state police exam and went through the questions that she’d missed before. Opening a notebook, she jotted down some key words. She’d look up what she’d gotten wrong, make notes and study those for the future.

  But even with a perfect score, Amber knew the biggest obstacle still was ahead, namely the background check. Even though her father claimed that his used car parts business was on the up-and-up, Amber could never be sure. And, if the officials found anything questionable, Amber would find herself stuck here in a town that still looked at her as Marv Chapman’s kid.

  She’d tried to believe her father when he’d said they’d all be crime-free while she was a deputy sheriff and that no “funny business” would be going on, but could she trust him?

  She was already a traitor in her father’s and three brothers’ eyes because she had gone “over to the other side.” They were mostly kidding when they teased her—mostly.

  The residents of Beaumont looked down on the Chapmans and always would. But her goal for the longest time was to bring some respectability to the family name. That’s one of the reasons why she’d become a cop. The other was to keep her father and brothers in line. So far, so good, on that count.

  Her mother had been looking for the same respectability. Kathleen Chapman had stayed with her husband and sons and tolerated their minor brushes with the law until Amber was accepted into college. Then Kathleen had taken a job in the cafeteria at the University of Oklahoma and the two of them had shared a small apartment.

  Those were some of Amber’s happiest times.

  And although they’d never divorced, Kathleen still had a soft spot for Marv and her three boys who followed in Marv’s footsteps: Aaron, Kyle and Ronnie.

  There was some kind of loud commotion in the hallway. Amber was just about to lay her study guide down and check it out, when the door opened and a man—or rather, a cowboy—walked in.

  He wore the typical dress of every other cowboy in town: jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a dinner plate of a buckle, a hat and dusty boots.

  Leaning over the counter, he raised an eyebrow when he saw that Amber was holding a study guide. She quickly closed it and tossed it into her desk drawer.

  “Hello, Luke. You made it.”

  “If I’m not disturbing you—”

  “You’re not disturbing me. Although the noise in the hallway did. Was that your fan club?”

  “Uh...just some people who were congratulating me on my wins in Billings and Oklahoma City.”

  “Let me add my congratulations.”

  “Thanks, Amber.” He took a deep breath and looked down at the marble floor. Finally he asked, “How about filling me in on my father’s arrests?”

  Amber pulled a folder from her bottom drawer and opened it. Although she knew its contents by heart, Luke Beaumont always made her jumpy, and it gave her something to do with her hands.

  “I think I told you that I arrested him three times. They were all at Tommy Lang’s bar. For the first two arrests I recommended to Judge Bascom that he just give him a stern warning and tell him to go to AA, but not the third time. That time, I recommended some days in jail along with probation and inpatient rehab. Your dad’s a fighter when he’s drunk and he can get quite mean, especially if someone brings up your mom.”

  Luke grunted. “I’m sure he’s more miserable than ever, but tell me what he did at the bar. Obviously he was drunk. Any damage?”

  “Yeah. The last time he jumped a biker who called him an old drunk. Your father said that he might be a drunk, but he wasn’t old. More words were exchanged relative to size and stature, and when the peanut shells settled on the floor, the damage totaled one thousand bucks.”

  “I’ll pay it.”

  “Your father is supposed to pay his own restitution,” Amber instructed.

  “Yeah, well, my money is going to have to do.”

  “That’ll teach him,” she mumbled.

  “Where’s the tax department? I have an appointment to see Connie McBride.”

  “There’s a sign right next to the entranceway, but your fans were probably blocking your view,” she teased. “It’s on the second floor. Up the stairs, turn left. Sign on door.”

  “Thank you, Sergeant Chapman.”

  Her heart was pounding in her chest. Why did he have to be so hot?

  “I’ll leave you alone now, so you can get back to your reading. I’m glad Beaumont is crime-free, except for our fathers, huh? State police study guide?”

  She wanted to coat him with pepper spray from the top of his Stetson to the bottom of his boots.

  “If you want to pay your father’s restitution, so he wouldn’t have learned a thing from his experience, you can do so on the third floor in the Beaumont County Probation Department. Do you want me to draw you a map?” she said, trying to get back at his teasing her.

  “I can handle it. Riding bulls hasn’t scrambled my brains that much.”

  She grinned. “The jury is still out on that, Luke.”

  He touched the brim of his hat to her. “Maybe I’ll stop in and see Matty Matthews while I’m there.”

  As he walked toward the thick oak door and opened it, Amber couldn’t help but notice his tight butt.

  That cowboy can really work a pair of jeans.

  She could hear his boots knocking on the marble floor until they faded.

  Sergeant Chapman hurried to the refrigerator in the break room, opened the freezer and let the air
cool her flaming face.

  Chapter Three

  Amber looked great in the navy blue and white Beaumont County Sheriff’s Department uniform with full cop regalia, but Luke still remembered her at the senior prom, all sparkly and glowing. Crazy Kenny Fowler had been her date and he’d paid more attention to everyone but Amber.

  During the prom, Luke got word that Kenny had Chapman moonshine on him and even more jars of the stuff in his car that he got “on sale” for taking Amber to the prom.

  Luke had known exactly when Amber had heard Crazy Kenny say that stupid sentence. With head held high, she’d left. He’d excused himself from his date and secretly followed Amber home, just to make sure she’d gotten there all right.

  He couldn’t help but hear her soft sobs as she’d slipped out of her heels on the sidewalk and kept on walking.

  Funny, he remembered Amber that evening but he couldn’t remember whom he’d taken to the prom.

  Reaching the second floor, he found the door labeled Beaumont County Department of Taxation and walked in. The office smelled musty, as if fresh air had never hit all the ledgers, microfiche and file cabinets. Looked like the tax department hadn’t caught up to the digital age.

  “I know why you’re here, Luke,” said Mrs. McBride from behind the counter. Connie McBride was the mother of Leann, the head cheerleader he had dated during his sophomore year. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  Reaching to her right, she slid a file from the top of the stack and positioned it in front of him. Using a stubby index finger with a nail cut to the quick, she pointed to a figure he knew was reachable but would be painful for his brothers and him.

  “And these are the penalties.” She pointed to another figure.

  Dammit, Dad. What have you done?

  “I had no idea it was so much,” Luke mumbled.

  “As I told you on the phone, according to the rules, I have no choice but to put your property up for auction,” Mrs. McBride leaned over the counter. “Hopefully, no one else will bid on it and you can buy it back. It has to go for at least these two figures. That’s the bottom line. The sale starts at ten o’clock sharp, Luke.” She checked her watch. “It’s nine thirty now. I’d better get going.”