The Prodigal Texan. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “Yes.” Enfield’s smile held no warmth. “Yes, Mayor Miranda’s grand plan has certainly stirred things up, as I expect you’ll find out. Are you staying in town very long? You and Ethan must have a lot of catching up to do. Last time you were home was your daddy’s funeral…no, that’s not right, is it? You didn’t get here for that one. Your mother’s funeral, must’ve been. Quite a while ago.”

      “Yes, sir.” Jud deliberately relaxed his hands. He couldn’t punch out a guest at a wedding reception, no matter how much he deserved it. “I was in the hospital when my dad…died.”

      “Suicide is always such a tragic business.” Arlen clicked his tongue. “But I know you don’t want to talk of this right now. Give my best to your brother— I’m sure I’ll be seeing y’all around. That’s the thing about small towns, isn’t it? Everybody always knows what everybody else is doing.”

      He turned to watch the crowd for a minute and Jud stood still, wishing the man would go away.

      “I remember a time,” Enfield said with a sigh, “when farm laborers knew their place and stayed there.”

      Jud followed his line of sight and saw the bride and groom laughing with a man who displayed his Hispanic heritage in his tanned skin and sleek black hair.

      “Ah, well.” He turned back to Jud. “Enjoy the party.” When Enfield gripped his shoulder, Jud fought a strong urge to grab hold of the man’s wrist and twist. Hard. The former mayor’s sly digs had been one of the most unbearable aspects of living in Homestead. Something else that hadn’t changed.

      Enfield ambled away. With his teeth still gritted, Jud freshened his beer and went back to surveying the crowd. His attention lighted immediately on Miranda Wright, maybe because she was taller than the rest of the women, maybe because he hadn’t expected her to look so beautiful.

      That had been the problem four years ago, too. In the middle of his mother’s funeral, he’d looked up to see Miranda straight across from him…warm, lovely, concerned.

      He’d remembered a scrawny girl, all arms and legs, with tightly braided pigtails, an overbite and a learning disability that caused the teachers to keep her back in several grades. Miserable Miranda had been her nickname, often called out in a singsong voice. As Jud recalled, the moniker fit more often than not. He recalled, too, how she challenged the boys to races, to arm wrestling, to any kind of physical contest that she thought she could win. More often than not, she was right.

      Somewhere, sometime, the pigtails had given way to a thick chestnut mane flowing around her shoulders. The dentist who’d corrected that overbite should get a medal, because now what a man noticed about Miranda’s mouth was those full, kissable lips. Scrawny no longer applied, either—she had a figure perfectly proportioned for her height, with generous curves and long, shapely legs.

      Jud had retained enough good sense to avoid her at the service, and afterward at his dad’s house. But when she’d shown up just outside his truck window while he tried to drown himself in whiskey, he’d lost the last of his pickled brains.

      He didn’t recall every detail of their encounter, but he remembered enough. And so did Miranda— the fact that she still held it against him had been obvious in her face a few minutes ago.

      So he would put her on his list of apologies to be made, along with most of Homestead’s population. Not in front of friends, though, and especially not in front of Brother Ethan, the man with a permanent stick up his butt.

      Looking over the crowd, Jud found his brother slow-dancing with a cute redhead who must be his new wife, judging by the lack of space between their bodies. Good ol’ Ethan would never seduce a woman and then drop her like a hot brick. Faithful, loyal, honest…if Homestead had ever sponsored a scout troop, little Ethan would have been the poster boy.

      Jud visualized a poster of himself with a big red X across the picture and the message Warning! Headed Straight for Hell! Do Not Follow! The glances he was getting from the guests at the party, the whispers he could see winnowing through the crowd, assured him his reputation remained intact.

      On the dance floor, couples broke apart and then rejoined as the band commenced a two-step. Jud straightened up away from the tree as he saw Wade Montgomery coming toward him, accompanied by the man who didn’t “know his place,” according to Arlen Enfield.

      “Join me,” he told the sheriff, holding up his beer. “I don’t like drinking alone.” Usually.

      “Don’t mind if I do.” Wade drew a cup for himself and one for the other guy. “Jud Ritter, this is Cruz Martinez, the foreman on Nan Wright’s farm. Cruz, Jud is Ethan’s brother.”

      Martinez offered a firm handshake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

      “Same here.”

      “I knew you’d need a place to stay,” Wade said, “and I didn’t think you’d…uh…want to crowd in at Ethan’s house, with the kids and all.”

      Nice guy, Wade, and tactful. Jud had never known him to be anything but loyal and honorable in the twenty-five years they’d been friends.

      “Cruz lives in a cabin out on Nan’s ranch,” Wade continued, “and he’s got plenty of room. He says he’ll be glad for some company.”

      Jud recognized a bad idea when he heard one. “I thought I’d…uh…stay at the Rise and Shine, out on the highway. I don’t want to put anybody out, especially the bride and groom on their wedding night.”

      “You don’t want to stay at the Rise and Shine,” the sheriff assured him. “The cockroaches rearrange the furniture every night when the lights go out.”

      “Yeah, but—”

      “Everybody in town will know your comings and goings if you stay at the motel. Tripp Dooley still owns the place and he still goes through the guests’ luggage while they’re out of the room. I’ve never caught him stealing, but not for lack of trying. Chances are good he’d compromise your investigation, especially if any of the locals are involved.” He blew out a deep, frustrated breath. “And they practically have to be.”

      Jud held up a hand. “Okay, I give in.” He’d just avoid Mayor Wright on her own land as much as possible, and wrap up his business—personal and professional—fast. “Thanks,” he told his host.

      “No problem.” Martinez shrugged. “Wade says you’re looking into some of the trouble we’ve been dealing with around here.”

      “Anything I can do.”

      “We had a break just this week,” Wade said. “The kid who played some tricks on Greer Bell’s guest ranch—”

      “That’s Greer Kelley, now,” Martinez put in.

      “Right. The Sunrise Guest Ranch. This kid’s kinda slow, and when a stranger offered him cash to play a couple of ‘harmless’ pranks, he agreed. He’s been too scared to identify who paid him until this week.”

      “You picked up the guy?”

      Wade nodded. “Yesterday. He’s sitting in my jail, not saying much of anything. I figured you could use your big-city interrogation techniques to make him talk. Or we could try straight torture. My dad has this bullwhip СКАЧАТЬ