Lone Star Lawman

by Joanna Wayne

“That’s enough, Heather. That’s enough for now.”

  Matt’s words shook Heather back to the present. He was behind her, though she hadn’t realized he’d left his chair. His fingers dug into her shoulders as his thumbs massaged the corded muscles that ran the length of her neck and knotted at the base of her brain. Opening her eyes, she trembled, leaning against him.

  “If you hadn’t shown up when you did...” The words died in her throat. “I want those men caught,” she whispered. “And I will find out about Kathy Warren. If they think they can scare me away, they’re wrong.”

  Matt pulled her to her feet and turned her around to face him. His dark eyes stared into hers, the intensity of his gaze searing clear to her soul. “You are not dealing with these monsters again. The sheriff and I will handle this our way, without your interference.”

  “I’m sorry, Ranger McQuaid. You may be heading up the investigation, and I appreciate your concern, but you are not running me. I will not leave Dry Creek until I know why someone is willing to hurt me rather than have me question my birth mother’s presence in this town.”

  Matt tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer. “I don’t know what we’ve stumbled into, but it’s not for the likes of you. Go home. Leave the dirty work to the people who get paid to handle it. We’ll contact you when we need you to testify.”

  “No, I have a right to be here.”

  “And that right could get you killed. Is that what you want? Would that prove you’re a good daughter to a woman who gave you away years ago? Is that what you think you owe her?”

  Tears scalded the backs of her eyes. She held them back. Matt had no right to challenge her determination, no right to question loyalty she couldn’t defend. “Can’t you protect the citizens of your state, Ranger? Is that why you want me to run and hide while you and the sheriff play lawmen?”

  She tried to pull away. He held her all the closer.

  “Will you let me protect you, Heather?” His voice was husky and dry. “Will you stay here at the ranch so that I can keep you safe?”

  She tilted her head and met his gaze. The fire that had colored his eyes seconds ago had dimmed to a smoky haze. She struggled to keep her temper hot, but the burning inside her switched from anger to something warmer, softer, something that caught in her breast and tugged at her heart.

  Matt traced the swollen lines of her face with his finger. “I can’t let you stay in town alone and risk this happening again. I don’t have the manpower to have you watched there every second.” His finger lingered on the bruise beneath her eye, his lips so close, she could almost feel them on hers.

  She swayed against him. Did she dare stay here, deal with the kind of crazy attraction she was feeling at this minute for a man she barely knew? Did she have a choice? “I’ll stay here if you think it’s necessary, but I won’t leave town until this thing is settled.”

  “You drive a hard bargain.” Brushing a wisp of hair from her cheek, he tucked it behind her ear. “Looks like I’ll have to work fast or get used to sleeping on the couch. Unless of course...”

  “No way, cowboy.” She pulled away, still struggling for breath and a break in the tension that crackled between them like heat lightning on a summer night. Her attempts were aided by a loud banging on the back door.

  The sheriff had arrived.

  Chapter Four

  Heather quickly pulled on her skirt and the shirt Matt had lent her last night. She might have-had breakfast with Matt in a loose-fitting cotton knit, but she wasn’t entertaining Gabby and the man Matt had introduced as John Billinger in that getup. Besides, if she was going to be staying at the ranch with Matt, she needed to try to keep gossipy tongues from wagging, for both their sakes.

  The three men were standing in front of the hearth when she rejoined them. They stopped talking and turned to gaze at her.

  Gabby fingered the soiled brim of the hat he held in his hand, over the round of his protruding belly. “I’m real sorry for all the trouble you’ve run into, Miss Lombardi. The attack was bad enough, then we find that bomb. I’m just glad the dadburn thing didn’t explode with you in the car.”

  “So am I. Do you have any suspects?”

  “Not yet. I’ve checked the whereabouts of some local teenage boys who’ve run into trouble with the law before. So far they all have reliable alibis.”

  Heather moved into the circle of intimidating Texans. Running a finger over her bruised face, she stared from beneath her blackened eyes. “The men who did this weren’t teenagers. And attempting to blow up a car with the passenger inside isn’t your run-of-the-mill act of vandalism.”

  John Billinger rolled back on his heels, his thumbs tucked into his front pockets. He was a tall, thin man, whose face wore the battle scars of long days in the outdoors under a hot sun. “I wouldn’t go jumping to conclusions, Miss Lombardi.” His thick drawl gave her name a dozen syllables. “They may not have been teenagers, but they could have been young men out of control. There’s some pretty rowdy wranglers working out at that new dude ranch. I wouldn’t put nothing past ’em when they get a drink or two under their belts.”

  Gabby stared at John from beneath his wiry brows. “I told you I’d handle this. I only let you come along ’cuz Miss Lombardi was attacked on your land.”

  “You didn’t let me come along. I told you I was coming out here to talk to Matt and give him my two cents’ worth. You just offered to let me ride with you.”

  Tension simmered between the two men, creating a new series of doubts in Heather’s mind. John obviously wasn’t too confident of Gabby’s ability to find the culprits. Should she distrust the sheriff, or was the running argument between the two men purely personal?

  Matt stepped closer to John. “What makes you think the men from the Galloping R might be involved in this?”

  “I’ve seen ’em around town. They pamper the tourists during the day and then let off steam at night. Just last month Paul Ridgely like to have shot one of them for messing with his daughter.”

  “Now, John,” Gabby countered, “you know Donna was as much at fault as the wrangler. That girl could get in trouble at a church social.”

  Irritation rattled Heather’s nerves. “I don’t think arguing about Donna Ridgely’s morals is going to find the men who beat me up and planted a bomb in my car.”

  “I agree,” Gabby said. “Why don’t you and I talk, Miss Lombardi, and John and Matt can do their conversing outside?”

  Matt propped a booted foot on the hearth. “I don’t think so. John and I can talk later. I want to be with Heather during all questioning.”

  Gabby raked weathered fingers through his thinning hair. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “That’s the way it’s going to be.” Matt took Heather’s arm and steered her toward the kitchen. “We’ll sit at the table so we can take notes. John, I’ll have to ask you to wait on the porch. Questioning of the victim is confidential at this point.”

  “Whatever you say, Matt. I’m just trying to help. But I sure wouldn’t rule out those drugstore cowboys in their fancy shirts and tight jeans. Ben Wright’s not one of us, and he don’t do things the way they’ve always been done in Dry Creek.”

  “How’s that?”

  “He throws money around like it grew on trees, wearing them expensive Western suits, and he pays his wranglers extra to dance and flirt with the women who come to the dude ranch.”

  “None of which is against the law. But don’t worry, we’re not ruling out anybody.” Matt threw John Billinger a look that made the man mutter and scowl as he stamped out the door. Then, kinking his foot around a kitchen chair, Matt dragged it closer to the table. He held it while Heather sat and then straddled one nearby. “I’d like to be asked in on this case, Gabby,” he said, as the older man poured himself a cup of coffee.

  “I kinda figured that.” The sheriff pursed his lips disapprovingly.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “Not for me. It might be for you or
your superiors. This isn’t one of the high-profile murders they usually assign you to. And you said yourself, you’re only here on vacation.”

  “I can extend my stay if I need to.”

  “I see.” Gabby’s brow knitted into a series of deep groves. “This thing might drag on for months, seeing as how we’ve got no clues.”

  “We have clues.”

  The same surprise Heather felt registered on Gabby’s face. “That’s news to me,” he said, pulling his chair closer. “Fill me in.”

  Matt’s voice was low and steady, as casual as if he were going over a grocery list. “Two men were involved. They were apparently taking orders from someone they simply referred to as ‘the boss,’ but one of them appeared to have an ax of his own to grind. My guess is he’s come into town specifically to put a stop to Heather’s nosing into the past of Kathy Warren. That means whatever happened twenty-five years ago stretches beyond Dry Creek. There could be more than one agenda in all of this, and Heather might not be the only one at risk.”

  Gabby shook his head. “Sounds good when you say it, but them’s still slim pickings. You can’t build a case on that kind of hogwash.”

  “I didn’t say we had a case. I said we had clues. My suggestion is that we begin the search with ranchers who have at least two men who aren’t family working for them. The ranch economy being what it is, that narrows the suspect field down considerably.”

  Confidence blossomed inside Heather. Evidently Matt did know what he was doing, and the endless questioning he’d put her through had accomplished something. For the first time since her abduction, she felt they were getting somewhere, that she might actually stop butting her head against the proverbial brick wall.

  “I was out at the site of the attack at dawn this morning,” Matt continued.

  “Yeah.” Gabby tapped his fingers on the edge of the table. “What did you expect to find that I didn’t?”

  “I was hoping for tire prints from the getaway vehicle.”

  “Not much chance of that. Worst drought we’ve had in ten years. The ground’s hard as asphalt.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t find sufficient tire marks, but I did find something.” Matt retrieved a plastic bag from the counter and laid it on the table. Peering through the plastic was a man’s watch with a broken band. “I want it dusted for prints.”

  Gabby chuckled. “You do live up to your reputation, Matt McQuaid.”

  “I try. Now it’s your turn, Gabby. I’m sure Miss Lombardi’s anxious to get this morning’s questioning behind her.”

  Gabby turned his gaze to Heather. “I reckon you’re ready to do more than that. I’m sure you’re itching to grab up your things and get out of this town. Can’t say that I blame you, but I’m real sorry things turned out this way. We’re usually a lot more hospitable around here.”

  “So I’ve heard. But I won’t be leaving town.”

  His eyebrows drew together, and he leaned in closer. “You’ll be making a mistake if you stay around here, especially until we get these men behind bars. The way it sits now, we don’t even know what the hell we’re dealing with.” He looked to Matt for help.

  Matt waved him off. “I told her that. She makes up her own mind. She’s checking out of the motel though. She’ll be staying at the ranch with me until we’re sure she’s out of danger.”

  A frown cut deeper into Gabby’s leathery face. “Don’t you Rangers have rules about getting involved with the victims of a case you’re working on?”

  “We’re talking protection, not personal involvement.”

  MATT WASN’T ANTAGONISTIC, but his tone left Heather in no doubt that this was just a job to him, and she was sure Gabby was convinced too. She was a job to him. The only reason she was at the ranch was that he believed her to be in imminent danger.

  At the thought, fear knotted inside her. Last evening, fighting off two strange men, when the risk to her life had been palpable, terror and anger had surged inside her like suffocating clouds of poisonous gas. But now, in the bright light of day, the events of the attack seemed more like a bad dream that had been washed away by the dawn.

  Only this wasn’t an ordinary bright sunny morning. The pain that swam through her muscles and the ghoulish bruises that disfigured her face were proof of that. And these weren’t just acquaintances she was chatting with. One was a Texas Ranger, the other a sheriff—undeniable evidence that her nightmare had substance.

  “Miss Lombardi.”

  The sound of her name jerked her to attention. “I’m sorry, Sheriff. Were you saying something?”

  “Just that I hate to put you through more questioning, especially when you seem a bit tired. It must have been tough sleeping after what you went through last night.”

  “No, I’m fine. I was just lost in my own thoughts for a second. Fire away, and I’ll answer as completely as I can.”

  “Let’s start with the note you received.”

  Heather took a deep breath and plunged in, retelling the story that repetition was burning into her mind. It was an hour before the two men across from her closed their notebooks and came up for air.

  HEATHER BREATHED a sigh of relief as Gabby tipped his hat and headed for the door. Matt trailed him out, saying he needed to talk to John if they could find him.

  Silence followed on their heels, but the solitude was welcome. Heather walked to the window and gazed out over land that seemed to stretch on forever.

  Tufts of grass, tall and yellow-green, were splashed between clumps of scraggy mesquite trees. Yellow and red flowers danced in and between the spines of prickly pear cactus, and a hackberry at the corner of the house offered a few orange berries that a blue jay found to his liking.

  Peaceful, but still, the land had a harshness about it, as though it issued the same challenge she’d heard voiced more than once over the last few days. Farming or ranching in south Texas was not for sissies.

  Perhaps that was what had toughened the men who lived here, given them the rugged edge they wore with the same pride that Matt showed in his badge. Or maybe the land itself did the choosing, attracted the type of rugged, fierce men who had tamed the West originally and then stayed to see the challenge through.

  The romance of the West. A charming idea, but the promise had turned sour for Heather. Every corner she turned slammed her against another barrier, each as barbed and impassable as the fences that crisscrossed the land that lay in front of her.

  Matt swung through the back door, pulling her out of her reverie. “I need to make a couple of calls before we visit Cass Purdy. Do you want to come along?”

  “Do I have a choice? I thought I was under house arrest.”

  “I wouldn’t have put it quite that way, but you’ve got the concept. John offered one of his men for a few hours if I need a watchdog, though. He could come over and stay with you if you’d like to rest a while this morning.”

  “A watchdog. How flattering.” She ran her hands down the front of her skirt in an unsuccessful attempt to remove the excess of wrinkles. “Actually, I’d like to go into town and get my things from the motel. This outfit is not the last word in fashion for ranch wear.”

  A smile touched the edges of Matt’s lips and softened the lines around his eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ranch wear and fashion used in the same sentence before, and definitely not when talking about my ranch.” His gaze walked from her ankles to the above-knee skirt. “No one’s complaining about your wardrobe, but I imagine you’d find jeans a lot more comfortable. Do you have any?”

  “Of course I have jeans.” Heather smoothed the wrinkles in her skirt with the palm of her hand. “I don’t wear suits on weekends or when I’m not working.”

  “But you chose them for the wilds of Texas?”

  “I thought I might get a little more respect and cooperation if I showed up in Dry Creek asking questions in a business suit rather than casual attire. Wrong again.”

  Matt propped his backside against the counter, his
shadowed eyes belying the ease of his stance. “Your clothes have nothing to do with the reception party someone threw you last night.”

  “No, I’m sure they don’t. Evidently the mention of Kathy Warren is enough to bring out killer instincts in some of the citizens of your fair town.”

  “Every town has a few buried secrets, most of them better off staying buried.”

  Heather walked over and stood in front of him, her back straight, her muscles suddenly tense. “I didn’t come here to expose the town’s dirty laundry. I’m only looking for the truth about one woman.”

  He waved her off. “Simmer down. I never said you were to blame for any of this. I just made an observation.”

  MATT WATCHED THE FIRE in Heather’s eyes cool to a dusky shade of charcoal. She was quick to anger but just as quick to mellow. Either way, she was too damned attractive for her own good. Or his.

  Not that it mattered. He had a crime to solve and then Miss Heather Lombardi could traipse back to Atlanta and the life she’d left behind. There were probably at least a half-dozen young men bemoaning her absence at this very minute. But how many of them had sat across from her at breakfast with her wearing nothing but their T-shirt?

  An uneasy pang akin to indigestion settled in his stomach. He ignored it. “So, make up your mind,” he said, tapping his fingers on the edge of the counter. “Do you want to tag along into town with me or not?”

  “Of course I’m going. Who could refuse a charming invitation like that?”

  “I’D LIKE TO STOP at the spot where we left my car last night.”

  Matt stared straight ahead, his eyes on the road in front of them. “I don’t recommend it. There’s nothing to see. Gabby took your car in as evidence.”

  “Still, I’d like to see the spot where the attack took place for myself.”

  “I don’t see the sense of that.”

  “I don’t see the sense of any of this. Whoever planted a bomb in my car intended to kill me. Yet last night one of the men who kidnapped me and beat me up insisted their orders were not to kill me.”