The Cowboy and the Cop

by Christine Wenger

  “Is it downstairs?” Luke asked.

  “No. It’s in the lobby of the courthouse. Not here.”

  How could he be so stupid? He took her hand and shook it. “Thanks, Mrs. McBride. Oh, and how’s Leann?”

  “She’s just a saint. She’s married and living in Fargo with an immature husband and four hellion boys—two sets of twins. I don’t know how she does it.”

  He tipped his hat. “Thanks, Mrs. McBride.” He’d have to pay his father’s restitution for the three bar fights at a later date.

  As he walked, he phoned Reed and told him the total amount. “Good. We’re covered and there’s some left,” Reed said.

  “Is Jesse with you?” Luke asked.

  “Yeah. I’ll put you on speakerphone so he can hear. We’re in Tucson now, chowing down on some cold pizza for breakfast and sitting outside on the balcony of our hotel.”

  “Someone could outbid me, but I still think I have it covered,” Luke advised. His heart beat fast in his chest. A lot was at stake. Not only now, but for future generations of Beaumonts. The ranch was a living history of his family, and it made him get both misty and mad that his father had forgotten that. “Thanks, guys. I’d better get moving. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Good luck with Dad, bro,” Jesse said. “He was ornery and stubborn the last time I visited with him at the ranch. Not a lot of fun.”

  “He’s really going to blow when he finds out that we’re going to save the ranch,” Reed added.

  A sick feeling came over Luke, when he thought about the ranch. It used to be prosperous and whatever his father touched had turned to profit. They’d been noted for their rough stock far and wide.

  But Big Dan had given away all the stock—bulls, horses, everything. The first to go was the horse that had kicked his mother in the head.

  Erasing all memories of his thriving ranch was how his father had grieved. This devastated the brothers, who couldn’t stop Big Dan, so they threw themselves into riding bulls and staying away from the ranch and their father.

  In retrospect, the whole bunch of them should have gone to counseling.

  “Jesse, it’s time for you to win,” Luke said, shaking off what he still didn’t want to deal with.

  “No kidding,” Jesse said.

  They said their goodbyes and Luke disconnected.

  As he walked to the courthouse he thought he’d rather ride a two-thousand-pound, bucking Brahma bull with horns as big as baseball bats than deal with his father.

  * * *

  “SERGEANT CHAPMAN, I’m assigning you to the tax auction. Crowd control. Then you need to direct traffic when it’s over,” Captain Fred Fitzgerald informed her.

  Amber hated working tax auctions, but as Captain Fitz had said previously, “Someone has to keep all of them from killing Connie McBride, and I outrank you.”

  She was always that someone.

  As the only woman on the small force, Captain Fitzgerald gave her the assignments that none of the men wanted, or the ones that Fitz felt were beneath his macho deputies, and that made her feel frustrated and angry. She’d tried talking to Fitz on several occasions, and he’d always insisted that he was treating her the same as the other officers, so she got nowhere.

  A larger force with more opportunities for advancement was one of many reasons why Amber wanted to get into the state police. Although there were probably Fitz types in the state police, there were more departments to transfer into if she got a Fitz.

  When they offered a state police exam, she’d have to pass that, be reachable on the list, submit to a background check and several interviews along with the agility test.

  Agility test. Ugh. She couldn’t get much agility sitting behind a desk. She jogged, of course, but she really should work out more. Maybe with a punching bag.

  She vowed to join Marco’s Fit-nasium. It was the only gym in town.

  Connie McBride was her usual busy self. Thank goodness she had an auctioneer who was going to do the actual sale of the property. Connie would faint if she had to do that chatter.

  Bidders had been lined up since dawn and they were loud. They complained about everything like death, taxes and how rock-and-roll singers were taking over traditional country music, but mostly about taxes.

  Luke Beaumont was in the crowd. She saw him leaning against the beige marble wall, a couple of fingers through the loops of his jeans. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or irritated, but he kept looking at the clock. Nine thirty-five.

  Less than a half hour to go.

  Amber didn’t think anyone in Beaumont could outbid him if Luke had the money, but there were always out-of-town speculators and condo builders looking for big chunks of land like the Beaumont property.

  Amber walked toward Luke. When he saw her, he tweaked the brim of his hat. She liked it when guys did that. It was very gentlemanly.

  “Having fun?” she asked.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Now you know how your fans feel when they are waiting in line for your autograph.”

  “I’ve always known how they felt,” Luke said. “And I appreciate every one of them.”

  She was just about to tell him that on several occasions she’d been one of those fans waiting in line for him, but always changed her mind at the last minute—except for the time that had brought him here.

  Amber looked around. “I recognize a couple of men who have traditionally bought up property at auction. Be ready, Luke. And I hope you have a lot of money in reserve.”

  “Between my brothers and me, we ought to win the bid. And, Amber, thanks for coming to Oklahoma City and letting me know about...everything. I appreciate that you gave me a wake-up call.”

  She shrugged her shoulders. She was only helping an old high school friend. That was all. Right?

  “Good luck, Luke.”

  “Thanks.”

  Amber told herself that she just wanted to keep Beaumont the way it was—a nice, small town with lots of scenic grazing land dotted with cattle, horses and sheep and no absentee landlords.

  It had nothing to do with the fact that Luke Beaumont was always traveling. Now he had to stay home for a relatively long period of time.

  Not that she’d notice.

  Moving to the back of the room, Amber eavesdropped on three men she didn’t recognize. They were looking at a survey map. She was almost certain it was the plot of the Beaumont Ranch. When she got an opportunity to peek, her suspicions were confirmed.

  Luke had better be ready with buckets of money.

  Everyone knew that he was a star with the Professional Bull Riders, and had made a lot of money riding with them. She also knew that he’d had a lot of injuries and that medical insurance for PBR riders, if anyone would insure them, was astronomical. She’d bet that Luke had a lot of medical bills that he had to pay.

  Amber looked at the sign-in sheet which showed the times that everyone signed in. Perfect! The three strangers were last to sign in.

  Amber Chapman made a split decision to help Luke.

  Because she didn’t want him to feel indebted to her, she hoped he’d never find out.

  After all, she was only doing her job.

  * * *

  IN THE LOBBY of the courthouse, the auctioneer pounded his gavel on the makeshift podium—a dark gray metal desk that had big rust spots on three sides.

  “Now we have the Beaumont Ranch, which consists of a four-thousand-square-foot historic ranch house, several barns, several outbuildings and over twenty thousand acres of prime land. You all have the information—now let’s get started.”

  Suddenly, Amber Chapman’s voice rang out. “Attention, please. Attention! We are over capacity in the lobby. I’m sorry, but I have to ask the following individuals to step out. You were the last to sign in
, and because of our fire rules, you have to be the first to leave. The individuals are Mark McGee, Dave Hartman, Jr. and Ray Maldonado. Please step outside, gentlemen.”

  “Are you serious?” said one of them.

  “I am,” Amber replied.

  “But we are going to bid on the Beaumont property,” said a stocky, bald man. His face was flushed.

  Luke heard him say that loud and clear. Thank goodness the three men had to leave. Interesting—Luke never thought that the Beaumont Sheriff’s Department was a stickler on details, like kicking three guys out due to the fire rules, but it was to his benefit.

  “Please step outside, gentlemen, and we’ll discuss the matter. Just as soon as another three people leave the facility, I can let you three back in.”

  She held the door open for the three to pass.

  “We could care less about any other property, Sergeant. We’ll be leaving this jerkwater town,” one of them said. “And for the record, Beaumont’s rule about having to be present to bid is medieval. We could have sent a proxy and not wasted our time.”

  Amber was glad that Beaumont had that rule, or all types of speculators hoping to grab up property would descend on their tax auctions. Of course, they could sell the property at any time to whomever they wanted, but Beaumont’s rule added just one more level of making things a little more difficult for out-of-town bidders.

  As soon as the last one cleared the door, Amber closed it and stood against it. “Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Auctioneer. Please proceed,” Amber yelled over the noise of the crowd.

  “Thank you, Sergeant Chapman. Now, let’s start the bidding, folks.”

  When the dust settled, Luke Beaumont and his brothers owned the Beaumont Ranch, or whatever was left of it.

  That hadn’t been his plan. He was just going to pay the back taxes. That’s all. It’d still be in his father’s name.

  But not now.

  According to county rules and regulations, because he had the winning bid, he owned the Beaumont Ranch.

  Since his brothers had pitched in their fair share, sooner or later he’d have to put the deed in their names, too.

  He felt elated and relieved. The ranch had almost slipped through his fingers, but it was back. It was a close call, but, thanks to Amber, there was a positive outcome. Luke was thrilled that he and his brothers were able to preserve and protect his family’s legacy.

  Later, Luke would have to tell Big Dan that he was out and the Beaumont brothers were in. Even though Big Dan didn’t care about the ranch, Luke had a feeling he’d certainly care about the fact that his sons were taking over and going against his wishes.

  But Luke and his brothers felt that their mother wouldn’t have wanted to see the ranch go into disrepair. They’d fix it up in honor of her memory.

  No matter how they sugar-coated what had just happened in the lobby of the courthouse, Luke dreaded his father’s reaction.

  * * *

  As ASSIGNED BY Captain Fitz, Amber had to direct traffic safely out of the courthouse parking lot onto Main Street. She stood in the middle of the street, dividing the traffic into those turning right and those turning left to quickly clear out the parking lot. It was one of those boring jobs that the other deputies hated, and the Cap felt that was perfect for her.

  But she wasn’t going to feel down. She’d just done a fabulous deed in keeping the Beaumont Ranch in the hands of the Beaumonts and away from the hands of outside investors.

  “Well, if it ain’t my daughter the sergeant. What is our pillar of justice doing now?”

  Her father, dressed in greasy coveralls, a greasy baseball cap and greasy sneakers, slapped the back of her crisp white uniform blouse with a hand.

  “I’m directing traffic, Dad. Can’t you see? Get to the curb. You can’t be here in the middle of the traffic with me.”

  “I’ll take full responsibility, Sergeant.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She positioned her arms to direct drivers. “What brings you downtown?”

  “I had to go to the license place.”

  That did her heart good. He was doing something according to the law.

  “If I didn’t get my license, you can bet you cops would be all over me.”

  “And I’d be leading the charge,” Amber said, blowing her whistle at a particularly fast car. “Slow down! Tell me what you want, Dad. I’m a little busy here, and, again, I don’t want you to get hurt in this traffic.”

  “I never get a chance to see you, daughter.”

  “Dad!” She blew her whistle at another car. “Spill it or get to the sidewalk and we’ll talk later.”

  “I want you to move back home to the bosom of your family.”

  “The what?” She laughed. “You mean you want me to cook, clean and keep the law off your back.”

  He shrugged. “Guilty. Will you come home?”

  “When pigs fly, Dad.” She knew her father was teasing her, but she’d never leave her cute apartment over the Happy Tea Pot and China Shop unless she was moving out of town for a state police job. “Now get to the sidewalk, please.”

  “Come over for dinner and we’ll discuss. Kyle is picking up some chicken and ribs and those corn muffins that you like from Smokin’ Sammy’s House of Hickory.”

  Yum. She did like Smokin’ Sammy’s.

  “I’ll come over for dinner. Thanks for the invitation.” She smiled. He was so transparent. He knew it, and she knew it. “But I don’t want any talk of me moving in. Wait a minute, you’re not still moonshining, are you?”

  He didn’t answer, but she held up traffic while he walked to the sidewalk. He clutched at his heart. “Amber—I mean, Sergeant Chapman, how can you ask me such a thing? I’m as pure as the newly fallen snow.”

  She laughed at his theatrics. Her father could always make her laugh.

  “What about my brothers?”

  “The same. They ain’t making moonshine.”

  “They’d better not be!”

  “Six o’clock?”

  “I’ll be there, Dad.”

  The traffic had dwindled to a few cars. It was then that she saw Luke Beaumont exit the courthouse and walk to the lot.

  He waved to her and she walked toward him.

  “What luck, huh?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “That you had to ask those three guys to leave because of the fire code.”

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “I found out that they were going to bid on the ranch. I’m not sure I could have outbid them. That was a close one.”

  “Good.” Amber nodded. “I’m very happy for you.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t know that the Beaumont Sheriff’s Department were sticklers for fire code violations.”

  “Oh. We are. Absolutely. It’s very important to enforce all codes as that are on the books.”

  That sounded pompous, but she didn’t want Luke to think that he was receiving special treatment from her because he was a Beaumont.

  Nor did she want him to think she had helped him because she was some kind of devoted fan.

  She did it for the town.

  “I’m off duty, Luke. Do you need a ride?”

  “Since I taxied right from the airport, I was going to hitchhike to visit my father in rehab, but I’m not ready to deal with him yet. Would you mind driving me out to the ranch? Hopefully my truck is there and working, and I can drive up and see my dad later, but, yeah, I’d appreciate a ride home. Thanks.”

  She radioed Dispatch that she was off duty and pointed to her cherry-red Honda CRV. “That’s my car.”

  They walked to her car and Amber clicked open the locks. “Hop in.”

  Chapter Four

  It was about fifteen miles to the ranch; most of it was
highway except for the last five. They made small talk about the weather, bull riding and the town in general. Amber was careful not to talk about the condition of his ranch. Luke would see it soon enough.

  “What happened to the entry arch?” he asked as they arrived.

  “Hurricane Daphne. The storm is responsible for pretty much everything.”

  “Hmm...the entry arch is the first thing I’m going to fix.”

  It contained the logo of the Beaumont Ranch, five ornate B’s in a circle for Big Dan, Valerie Lynn and their three boys. It was made of wrought iron, from what Amber remembered, and every vehicle and pedestrian passed under that arch.

  Obviously, it bothered Luke that the symbol of his family was on the ground.

  “Hang on.” He got out of her car and pulled the arch to the side of the driveway.

  He got back in and she started up the long drive to the homestead. Luke stuck his head out the window as they passed by several outbuildings in need of repair.

  “Dammit!” he shouted. “Look at those wrecked buildings.”

  “I’m sorry, Luke.”

  The homestead came into sight. The roof had collapsed in the middle and the land that used to be around it was either bare or choked with weeds. Amber remembered beautiful flowers around the home—Valerie Lynn Beaumont had had a green thumb—but whatever had once bloomed had vanished. The portico had collapsed, twisted, and was hanging on by a couple of thick boards someone had propped up against the main portion.

  “That has to be replaced,” Luke said.

  Two of the big picture windows had also blown out and were covered by sheets of plywood.

  The whole place was in need of paint, but that was probably the least of his problems. He had yet to look inside. There was no need for a key. The door was half off its hinges.

  “Let’s go in, Amber. I might as well see inside.”

  “That’s okay. I’ll stay here.”

  “C’mon with me. Please.”

  She got the impression that he didn’t want to be alone when he saw the condition of the homestead that had been in his family for generations.