The Deputy Gets Her Man. Stella Bagwell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ released a heavy breath. “So how is Quint taking all this? Last night when we were moving cattle I didn’t see him around.”

      “He’s angry and worried. That’s how he’s taking it. His wife, Maura, is pregnant and last night she was so upset over the fire that I convinced him to stay with her and let the rest of us men handle the cattle.”

      From what Tyler understood, the baby was going to be Quint’s third child, coming after two young sons. In all honesty, Tyler had to admit he was envious of the man. At one time in his life he’d wanted children desperately. More than anything, he’d wanted to be a father and raise his children far from the stranglehold Warren Pickens had placed upon him. But DeeDee hadn’t wanted to be a mother. Hell, after less than a year of being married, she’d not even wanted to be his wife. She’d wanted to have fun and enjoy herself. And Tyler’s twin, Trent, had been more than eager and willing to show her a good time.

      Now, nearly ten years later, Tyler fought to forget how he’d bent over backward to please his young but fickle wife. In the end, she’d not been worth his efforts and all his trying had made him look like an even bigger fool. Especially with his father continually taunting him with warnings that Trent was the man DeeDee really loved. And as it turned out, Warren’s stinging predictions had come true. In the end, DeeDee had divorced him and married Trent. Not only that, the two of them had moved in to the very house that Tyler had originally built for himself and his wife.

      Hell, what was he doing thinking about DeeDee or Trent at a time like this? Tyler wondered, as he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t give a damn about either one of them. They deserved each other.

      Putting the truck into gear, he said, “Well, you and Quint have my number. If either of you need me for anything, just call.”

      “Thanks.”

      Tyler lifted a hand in farewell and put the truck into motion. A quarter of a mile down the road, his cell phone rang and seeing the caller was his foreman, he quickly answered. “Yeah, Sawyer?”

      “Sorry to bother you, Ty. But you’d better get back here to the ranch. Quick.”

      Tyler bit back a sigh of frustration. Sawyer was a competent man. He didn’t annoy Tyler with trivial problems, so clearly something had to be wrong. “What the hell has happened now?”

      “It’s that deputy. Seems as though Santo didn’t take too kindly to some of her questions. He blew his stack and told her he’d taken feed sacks, a jug of kerosene and a cigarette lighter down to the property line and set the fire. Said he’d wanted to burn every damned Cantrell to a crisp! Now she’s about to haul him to jail!”

      Muttering a curse under his breath, he promptly jammed on the brakes and wheeled the truck around in the middle of the road. “Stall her if you can! I’ll be right there.”

      When Tyler reached the ranch yard he instantly spotted Santo standing at the front of the deputy’s vehicle with his hands cuffed behind his back. Sawyer and two other cowboys were standing several yards away, anxiously watching the scene unfold. Instead of worrying that his men might cross the line with the pretty deputy, Tyler realized he should’ve been more concerned about her taking advantage of his men.

      After braking the truck to a jarring halt, Tyler leaped to the ground. He trotted over to where Deputy Lightfoot was speaking on a two-way radio affixed to the dashboard of her truck.

      He waited until she leaned across the seat to hang the mike back on its holder before lashing out at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

      Slowly turning from the vehicle, she fastened a look of warning on him. “That should be clear to you. I’m taking your employee into custody.”

      Tyler would be the first to turn over any man on this ranch if he was guilty. But the only thing Santo would set a match to was a candle when he said a prayer. “That’s stupid! Santo hasn’t done anything!”

      Her lips pressed tightly together as her dark brown eyes leveled a pointed look at him and at that moment the odd thought of kissing her shot through his mind. What would it feel like to pry those lips of hers apart and feel the soft skin of her cheek pressed against his?

      Her voice suddenly interrupted his wandering thoughts. “Mr. Pickens, I suggest you let the law do its job. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a pair of handcuffs.”

      He didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or curse. “If you haul Santo to jail, you’ll be making a huge mistake.”

      “Your man just confessed to the crime,” she retorted. “I’d be stupid not to arrest him.”

      “You insulted him. He said all of that out of spite because he’s angry!”

      Stepping forward, she wrapped a hand against the back of Tyler’s arm and urged him several feet away from the vehicle and out of the earshot of Santo and the other men. Tyler was acutely aware of the warm weight of her hand, the flowery scent wafting to his nostrils.

      “Mr. Pickens,” she said lowly. “When I left your house less than an hour ago, you implied you had no qualms about me interrogating your men. Now here you are interfering. Maybe you should start explaining yourself.”

      It suddenly dawned on Tyler that if their roles were reversed, he wouldn’t be showing the calm patience that she was projecting at the moment. The insight was enough to dissolve his anger and make him even more aware of her touch and the deep, dark depth of her eyes.

      “Okay, I’m guilty of interfering. I’m sorry. But in this case I think you need to know what’s going on here.”

      Dropping her hand away from his arm, she rested her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Well, exactly what is going on here?”

      “Santo couldn’t have started the fire. Yesterday I sent him over to Roswell to pick up a horse. He didn’t return until late in the evening and when the fire started, Santo and I were both down at the stables dealing with the new horse.” He inclined his head to a point beyond her shoulder, where a long barn with a wide roof protecting the whole length of the building, which stabled more than two dozen horses. “We’d barely gotten the horse unloaded and into its stall when we started to smell smoke.”

      She stared back at him as she weighed the sincerity of his words. Then, finally, she inclined her head toward Santo. “I’ll talk to him again. You come with me. But don’t say a word. Understand?”

      “Santo will hear a few choice words from me,” he assured her. “But that will be later.”

      Seeming to accept his promise, she motioned for him to join her and they quickly returned to where his chief wrangler stood passively waiting for the deputy to haul him away.

      A man in his sixties, Santo had worked for Tyler for eight years and since his wife had died several months ago, he’d moved into the bunkhouse and lived on the ranch full-time. Tyler understood the man was going through a tough emotional patch. Otherwise, he would have fired him for pulling such a stunt with Deputy Lightfoot.

      She said to Santo, “I think you’d better tell me your story again, Mr. Garza. It’s not adding up to your boss’s account of your activities yesterday.”

      Remorseful now, the man looked at her, then Tyler. “Okay. I was gone to Roswell. I didn’t set no fire,” he mumbled.

      Her СКАЧАТЬ