She's The Sheriff (Superromance Series No 787)

by Duquette, Anne Marie

“I’m so sorry, Virgil. But moving a child to a new location doesn’t mean he’s going to leave all his problems behind.”

  “I know that.” Virgil ran his fingers through his hair. “But I didn’t know what else to do. I thought maybe my family would help Travis find some stability. But he doesn’t consider them family. He considers me and May and the rest of his California crowd his family.”

  “The farther you take him from May, the louder his bids for her attention are going to be,” Desiree said. “At least that’s how I see it. The car fires, sneaking out of the house...”

  “Surely you don’t think he vandalized your car?”

  Desiree shuddered at the thought. “God, no!”

  “Good, because I know it wasn’t Travis. I know his handwriting, and that wasn’t his.”

  “No...I really don’t think he did that. But as for the fires... Answer me honestly, Deputy. Is he capable of having set them?”

  Yes, damn you, he is. “Yes.”

  They rode on in silence, the horses changing their plodding walk to a quicker one as they grew nearer to their barns and feed. In the distance a pastured horse whinnied. Onyx whinnied back his answer and tried to take his rider into a canter. Virgil firmly held on to the bit and reined his mount closer to the mare.

  “What are you going to do?” Virgil asked harshly. “Arrest my son?”

  “I don’t arrest children, and I don’t have any proof. But I am going to ask you to put him in school.”

  “A juvenile facility?” How could I send him away?

  Desiree shot him an indignant look. “I mean the regular Tombstone school.”

  “He’s enrolled. He’s been going to school the past couple of weeks—haven’t you noticed?”

  “He’s enrolled, Virgil, but he’s been skipping classes. I checked with his teacher. You may think you know where Travis is most of the day, but you don’t. And right now, this kid doesn’t have an alibi.”

  “I will ground his lying little butt for a month. No, a year.”

  “Virgil, forget about grounding and concentrating on keeping that kid in school. He needs to be there—for a lot of reasons.”

  “Including the fact that he’ll have an alibi for any future crimes?”

  Desiree sighed. “I wish he had an alibi for this one, as well. Travis might not be our graffiti culprit, but he has no alibi for the fires in the parking lot. He admits he was there. He could be our rock-thrower, as well, although I doubt it.”

  “Travis can’t drive, and he can’t ride a horse without the whole ranch knowing it.”

  “I don’t know, Virgil. I’ve seen him run. Could he have jogged to town and back?”

  “It’s a stretch. I called the ranch. He was with Caro at lunch. Besides, I’ve never even taken him into town. He doesn’t know Tombstone at all.” I’ve deliberately kept him away from shoplifting temptations.

  Desiree thought about that. “But Jondell hit all his lockboxes during the day. He could’ve done my car this morning, but not the stores. And I doubt the car.”

  “So what are you saying? We’re looking for multiple suspects?”

  “I think it’s a reasonable assumption. Neither Jondell nor Travis fits all three crimes. So... who has more enemies? You or me?”

  “You worked in the D.A.’s office. You’ve certainly made a few.”

  “Let’s not forget those in your earlier careers as sheriff and bodyguard.”

  “Small potatoes compared to your track record. I just catch ‘em. You’re the one who convicts ’em.”

  “Still, reason enough for revenge.” Desiree thought some more. “Let’s not forget those disgruntled voters who want me out of office. It’s only a matter of time before the whole town hears about Jondell.”

  “I doubt the good citizens of Tombstone are ready for an old-fashioned necktie party.”

  “Yet,” was her grim response. “We need to find our guilty parties before then. I think we’ve agreed that no single person is responsible for the fires, the rocks and my car. Off the record, I don’t suspect Travis of the latter two—and I’m not convinced about the fire. We have to treat it as a possibility, though.”

  If they weren’t on horseback, he would have kissed her. Again. That particular activity seemed to be on his brain a lot. Not just kissing, either. He was a grown man, and his fantasies went beyond mere kisses. But after those fantasies, what next? Thoughts of commitment? Plans for marriage? Would that lead to “happily ever after”? Or to another divorce, because of a child who was loved but inconvenient to the first woman in Virgil’s life and a professional problem to the second. To Desiree....

  “I suppose there’s one way to find out,” she said as the huge barns came into view.

  “What’s that?”

  “Ask him, Virgil. Ask Travis point-blank.”

  THE REST OF THE FAMILY had already finished dinner as Virgil and Desiree entered the house.

  “Food’s on the sideboard, folks,” Wyatt said.

  “Later, Wyatt. I need to talk to Travis. Seen him?”

  “He’s out at the yearling pasture. How about you, Ray? Can I dish you up something?”

  “I’m going to shower first. Where’s Caro?”

  “Upstairs. She just put Cat to bed.”

  “Thanks.” Desiree approached the gun cabinet, locked away her weapon and belt and Virgil’s and climbed up the worn pine stairs. Virgil headed outside.

  The cool evening air was the signal for the yearlings to kick up their heels. They ran, whirled, jumped and rolled in the soft, irrigated grass grown especially for tender, unshod feet. Virgil found Travis leaning on the pipe corral. The pensive expression on his face and the motionless pose of his body were a direct contrast to the activity just beyond him.

  In fact, it was the same drooping pose his mother, May, had often assumed in the last days of their marriage. It seemed Virgil was unable to make either his wife or his son happy. And now I get to make things worse.

  It wasn’t something he was looking forward to doing—playing inquisitor to his own child. What had happened to the days when a kiss and a hug were all he needed to make Travis smile?

  He joined his son at the corral. “Sorry I was late for dinner.”

  Travis shrugged without answering. They watched the horses romp.

  “You should pick out one for yourself,” Virgil suggested. “It’s a Bodine tradition.”

  “I don’t want a horse.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Nah.”

  A pause. “What do you want, son?”

  “You know.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I want to go home.”

  “Travis, we are home.”

  “You are. I’m not!” The boy’s fury surprised him. “I hate it here!”

  Virgil took in a deep breath. “Enough to set fires?”

  “Yes!”

  Virgil stared at the stranger he’d fathered, stared at the loathing in the child’s eyes. It was a minute before he could go on. “Burning the place down won’t solve anything.”

  “I’m not burning anything down!”

  “Oh?” Virgil prompted cautiously, not wanting to accuse Travis of anything.

  “Just wood. I never burn anything but wood.”

  Travis exhaled. “Nothing else?” he asked with relief, wanting to hear the words again.

  “Sometimes I toast hot dogs. Or marshmallows. I pretend I’m sitting on the beach with my friends.”

  “But, Travis, there’s more to life than sitting on the beach.”

  “Like what? Cactuses and dirt?”

  Cacti, Virgil mentally corrected. “I know you miss your friends. So do I.”

  “No, you don’t! That’s why you don’t care where you live!”

  The words hurt, not only because they came from his son, but because they were true. “Travis, I was taught that family were one’s friends.”

  “I don’t care. You get to live wherever you want. How come I can’t?” Travis stra
ightened away from the corral. Virgil hurried after him.

  “Don’t walk away from me, young man! I brought you here so you could grow up without cameras and reporters and bodyguards and tutors. So you could have a normal life.”

  “I had a normal life! I’m not going to wear stupid hats and stupid boots and ride a stupid horse and shovel stupid manure. I want to go home! I want to be near Mom! At least there I saw her sometimes. Here I don’t see her at all.”

  “L.A. isn’t a safe place to raise a child.”

  “Tombstone sucks! Bad things happen here, too! Fires and...and everything else!” Travis scowled. “I know about Jondell. I know what a rapist is, too.”

  Virgil strained for patience. “The trouble here in town is the exception rather than the norm. Once this is cleared up, things will calm down again. Another thing—Until then, it’s time you buckled down. Starting with school. You will stop skipping classes, do you hear me?”

  “No way! They don’t even teach computer classes here!”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I went a few times, Dad.” Virgil didn’t miss the sarcasm.

  “You’ll go full time or else. I can’t have you running around and getting into trouble.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” Travis insisted. “Anyway, I already know all that stuff.”

  “You don’t know as much as you think. And—” Virgil looked into his son’s eyes “—I don’t want you getting blamed for anything, either.”

  The boy’s eyes widened. “Like what?”

  “Like setting cars on fire.”

  “I told you, I only burn wood!”

  “Are you telling me the truth?”

  Travis nodded, lips tightly clenched.

  “I believe you, but others might not. Until I find who the guilty party is, I can’t have you sneaking out of bed and setting fires at night.”

  “Fine. Then send me home.”

  “Travis...”

  “I wanna go live with Mom!”

  “Your mother loves you, but she doesn’t have time to raise you.” He placed his arm around Travis’s shoulder, but the boy jerked away.

  “I already talked to her. She said she’d take me if. that’s what I wanted.”

  “I thought she was off on location in Venezuela.”

  “She is.”

  “Then give me her number and I’ll call.”

  “I can’t. She was calling from a pay phone.”

  Travis, you’re lying, and you’re breaking my heart. “I’ll talk to her about it if she calls again. In the meantime, you stick close to the ranch house. No more fires, you understand?” Silence. “Come on, let’s walk back to the house.” Virgil held out his hand.

  Travis refused it. Virgil remembered the last time his son had looked so unhappy—the day he’d fallen asleep on the plane and Virgil had carried him to Desiree’s car. Please don’t shut me out, Travis.

  “Let’s get some dessert,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Whatever,” Travis grumbled.

  Which, under the circumstances, Virgil thought, was better than nothing.

  CARO WAS LYING DOWN in her room, still dressed, with her feet up and Oscar curled around them.

  “Hi, Caro.” Desiree hovered outside the door. “If you’re trying to rest...”

  “No, I’m just a bit tired. Cat always puts up a bedtime fight.”

  “I was going to walk the dog, but that can wait. Want some company?”

  “Sure. How was your day?”

  Desiree entered and sat next to the double bed. “Long. Very long.”

  “How’s the shoulder?” Caro asked. “And work?”

  “Fine, and not so good. I don’t know if Virgil’s talked to you about Travis...but I’m worried about him.”

  “So am I,” Caro replied. “He’s not happy here. He sneaks out of the house late at night, and—”

  “You know about that?”

  Caro nodded. “There isn’t much that Wyatt and Morgan miss around here. You don’t think he set those cars on fire, do you?”

  “I don’t know. I do think he’s angry enough to do more than just sneak out of bed.”

  “Morgan could start taking him to the caves again to get him out of the house. Or Wyatt could keep him around the barns.”

  Desiree shook her head. “No, Caro, that’s not what Travis wants. The boy doesn’t feel like he fits in as it is. I don’t think dragging him from pillar to post is going to help.”

  “But I’m concerned about his safety. As long as Jondell’s in town—”

  “Jondell isn’t our culprit. Frankly, sis, I don’t think it’s Jondell who’s throwing rocks at windows or defacing my car. For that matter, I don’t think it’s Travis, either.”

  Caro sat up from her pillows. “Someone defaced your car! Marta didn’t tell me about that. Only the rocks.”

  Damn. “What are you doing, Caro, checking up on me?”

  “Marta and I are friends. We happened to chat on the phone today.”

  “Yeah, right. And you just happened to check up on me.”

  Caro flushed guiltily. “Good thing I did. Only I didn’t know Marta was holding out on me, too.”

  “It’s okay. Someone covered my car with graffiti. But that’s not what I want to talk about,” Desiree said. “I want to ask you, and everyone else, to keep a close eye on Cat and Travis. I’m not the only person around here who’s made enemies. You, me, Wyatt, Morgan, Virgil—we’ve all worked in law enforcement. If someone’s out there with an ax to grind...the kids could become targets.”

  “Wyatt and I already thought of that. That’s why Cat’s been going out to the caves until I’m back on my feet. She’s safe there. But Travis didn’t want to go. I can’t force him.”

  “No one can force him. His own father can’t even keep him in bed at night.”

  “He’s only ten years old. Virgil needs to use a stronger hand with him.”

  Desiree shook her head. “Remember how stubborn we were when we were ten? Look at Cat. She’s only five, and she’s a handful when she doesn’t get her way. Travis Bodine is much more sophisticated, resourceful and self-reliant than any of us were. I can’t watch him and do my job, too.”

  “Neither can Virgil,” Caro observed.

  “That’s the problem. He shouldn’t have run against me for sheriff in the first place, let alone become a deputy. His child needs him. Virgil should quit and stay home.”

  “We talked about that,” Caro said quietly.

  “Virgil talked to you, not me?” Desiree couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice. She thought she was Virgil’s confidant—not her sister. “What did he say?” she managed to ask.

  “Exactly what you did. He shouldn’t have run for sheriff. It was his reaction to hearing that a Bodine wouldn’t be in office, I guess.”

  I knew it. The vindication didn’t make her feel any better. She’d miss Virgil professionally when he was gone—and personally, too, if she was honest with herself. “So...why’s he still showing up at the office every morning? Why doesn’t he quit?”

  “That’s not Virgil’s way, not the Bodine way. He can’t just drop out in the middle of one crisis to take care of another. And these two problems are connected, you know. How can he concentrate on his son if the very town his son lives in isn’t safe?”

  “Keeping the town safe is my responsibility,” Desiree insisted. “Not that Virgil or anyone else sees it that way.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Ray, stop feeling sorry for yourself.” Caro was blunt. “Face it, your track record isn’t that great. Your handling of this local crime wave isn’t going to win any terrific reviews. Think of Virgil for a minute—he’s being torn in all these different directions. Duty, family, his own needs. Again. The story of his life. Give him a break, would you? He’s doing his best. That’s all any man can do—even a Bodine.”

  Desiree felt even more hurt. But she heard Caro out. “Go on.”

  “What good would his
quitting do anyone? Travis would still be rebellious. Plus he’d have the perfect excuse to insist on going back to California—”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “If his dad isn’t working anymore, there’d be no reason for them to stay here—in Travis’s mind anyway.”

  “But maybe that’s just what’s needed. Maybe Travis belongs back in California,” Desiree ventured to say, ignoring the pain that thought caused her. There’s nothing for me there. No law practice; I haven’t passed the California bar. Besides, she was an Arizona resident and wanted to stay that way.

  A sympathetic Caro reached for her hand. “I said the very same thing. It’s so obvious the child doesn’t fit in here. But it’s not my place to make the decision. Virgil’s his father...and I’m not the boy’s mother.”

  Neither am I. Lord knows the kid could sure use one—but the one he wants doesn’t want him. “Like I said...that’s the problem. No one has time for that child. Not his mother. Not even his own father.” Desiree felt tears prick her eyes. “Caro, I know you just lost your baby. I know you already have a child of your own. But Travis needs someone. Virgil has no one else to ask, no one else who’s got the time. You’re not working right now, and this boy desperately needs some attention.”

  Caro reached for her hand with a smile. “I’d already planned on it, Ray. But I need to ask you a favor, too.”

  “What?”

  “Talk to Lozen. She’s staying in Rogelio’s cabin. She feels terrible about all of this—letting everyone down, her family, and her patients in Tucson and on the reservations.”

  Desiree automatically rubbed at her forehead. The stitches were gone, but an itchy red scar was under her bangs. “I’m just glad we all got out of that fire.”

  “She’s apologized to Virgil, but she needs to do the same with you. She thinks you’re avoiding her.”

  “I’m not! It’s just that, what with everything going on—”

  “Talk to her, Ray. As soon as you can.”

  “Tomorrow, Caro. I’m beat,” she said with all honesty.

  “Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

  “How’s her arm doing, anyway?”

  “Not good. Clean breaks usually take four to six weeks to heal, but this isn’t knitting right. She may need to go back for surgery.” Caro bit her bottom lip. “You know, she has a lot of time on her hands right now. Maybe she can help me make Travis feel at home.”