The Sheriff Of Sage Bend

“Hi, Miranda,” Dena said, tugging at her sleeve. “Chet let me through the gate, Paige. I hope you don’t mind me dropping by. I heard about Shannon, and I wanted to help search, but my gelding’s lame.” She indicated what she’d brought. “I thought y’all could use some comfort food to tide you over for a couple of days, so you won’t have to worry about cooking.”

“That was thoughtful,” Paige said, taking it from Lucas. “Thank you, Dena.”

“There’s a couple of casseroles, and I made some stew…and some beans and ham hock in freezer bags. You can just thaw and heat them whenever you need to.”

“What did you do to your arm, Dena?” Miranda asked, even though it was none of her business. She already knew the answer anyway. But with Shannon missing—possibly the victim of violence—her tolerance was flat zero.

Dena lowered her gaze and tugged at her sleeve again. “I sprained it. Fell off a haystack unloading some bales into the loft.” She shrugged. “I’ve always been clumsy.”

“Especially since you married my brother,” Lucas said, clenching his jaw.

Dena and Clint had been married for a while…five years? Miranda thought that was about right. According to gossip, Clint had started roughing Dena up not long after their honeymoon, and had since progressed to knocking the crap out of her whenever he felt like it, which was most of the time. They had two kids, and a reputation for fighting like a couple of bobcats in a burlap bag.

Miranda was surprised they hadn’t killed one another by now. She felt sorry for their children.

Dena faced her. “I just wanted to come out and tell you how sorry I am to hear about your sister.”

“Thank you,” Miranda said, wishing Dena would take her kids and go to a battered women’s shelter.

Lucas’s steely expression let Miranda know Dena wasn’t fooling him, either. “Tell Clint I’ll stop by and say howdy as soon as I brush my horse down.”

Dena went white. “There’s no need, Lucas. You’ve got your hands full here.”

He merely grunted—a familiar sound Miranda knew meant the subject was closed. Without further argument, Dena turned and left.

“I’ll brush Cimarron.” Miranda gave him a meaningful look. “You go ahead, Lucas.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back shortly. Paige, try not to worry. We’ll find Shannon.”

Paige merely nodded.

Lucas addressed the volunteers as they gathered around, telling them about finding Shannon’s hair tie. “There’s other ways to get to that lake and the area around it,” he said. “We’ll all meet back here at one-thirty—divide into groups. We’ll decide which areas we should search next. We might have a dead end for now, but it’s possible we can still pick up a lead.”

“I’ll be happy to come back,” Kyle offered. “Maybe Blackhawk can find something yet.”

Miranda thanked him, then watched Lucas climb into his Blazer and drive away, the empty horse trailer rattling behind him. Several other people left as well, promising to rejoin the search later.

“Me and Chet can brush those horses down for you, Miranda,” Sam said, his bright blue eyes sympathetic. “Yours, too, Miss Paige. Why don’t you go inside and put your feet up for a spell.” Miranda appreciated the older cowboy trying to comfort her. “Thanks anyway, Sam, but I could use something to keep me busy.”

“You can take Snap,” Paige said, handing the mare over. “I need to get this food put away and go help with lunch.” One of the neighboring ranchers had offered to feed the volunteers a hearty meal.

“I’m going to see Tori after I finish with the horses,” Miranda told her, “but I won’t be gone long.” Tori’s shift at the Silver Spur had kept her from being at the ranch today.

Paige nodded, then headed for the back door. Miranda led Ranger and Cimarron toward the barn. She cross-tied each horse in the aisle, looking over at Poker’s stall. A lump swelled in her throat. The big bay gelding had settled down, and now stood contentedly munching hay from his feeder, oblivious to the fate of his owner.

“I sure wish you could talk,” she murmured.

As she unsaddled and brushed Ranger, Miranda’s thoughts drifted from Shannon to Lucas. She’d like to be a fly on the wall when he confronted Clint, the sorry SOB. She couldn’t understand why Dena put up with the abuse he dished out.

But most of all, Miranda had never come to terms with the fact that Lucas thought he was no better than his brother or his father, which was why he’d decided not to marry her, after all.

Apples and oranges.

But nothing Miranda had said could convince him otherwise.

LUCAS DROVE FASTER THAN he should have on his way to Clint’s place, especially since he hadn’t taken the time to unhitch his trailer. He knew his efforts were futile, but some small part of him still hoped he could shake his brother up enough to get him to back off from abusing Dena. Lucas constantly worried for her safety. And right now, he wasn’t exactly in a happy frame of mind.

He hadn’t wanted to upset Miranda any more than she already was. But when she’d brought up the possibility of a copycat killer, one thing had come to mind: Lonnie Masterson himself very well could be behind Shannon’s abduction. It was possible he had friends on the outside more than willing to help him make the only witness for his prosecution disappear.

The thought made Lucas insane. He and Miranda might’ve broken up, but he still cared about her and her sister.

He would make arrangements to go to the Cameron County jail and have a talk with Masterson as soon as he could.

Minutes later, he arrived at his brother’s place. Clint’s ranch—if you could call it that—consisted of a half-dozen horses and a pack of mutts. The place lay tucked into a valley, the breathtaking scenery sur rounding it a stark contrast to the shabby house. But the barn—that was another story. Clint spent most of his money on his horses, and as little as possible on Dena and the kids. For the life of him, Lucas couldn’t figure out why she didn’t leave his sorry ass.

Maybe it was because Dena saw the man that Clint could be if he’d only try. The man Lucas caught a glimpse of once in a while, when his brother was sober.

Lucas parked near the porch steps and was immediately swarmed by a half-dozen barking dogs, pit-bulls, rottweilers and a few mutts. Ignoring them, he walked around a small tricycle and up the steps. Before he could knock, Dena opened the door. Lucas heard Cody and Jason playing in the living room, their voices carrying over the sound of the TV.

“He’s not here, Lucas.” Dena stepped out onto the porch, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. “But everything’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“No, Dena, it’s not okay.” He shook his head in exasperation, but spoke low enough that the boys wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you get tired of him using you for a punching bag?”

“That’s not fair,” Dena said. “Clint’s good to me…most of the time.”

Lucas let out an expletive. “Fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair. My worthless brother marrying one of the nicest women I know.” They’d all gone to Sage Bend High, Dena and Clint just a year behind Lucas. He indicated her hidden bruise. “I’ve put him in jail before, and if I could prove he did that to you, I’d lock him up again.”

“He needs help, not jail time.” Dena rubbed her wrist. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just the booze talkin’ when he lets his anger out.”

“Yeah, well, he still has no right to knock you around.” Come on, he urged silently. File charges against him.

But she wouldn’t.

“So, where’s he at? The Silver Spur?” The local honky-tonk was a few miles out of town, a favorite watering hole for Clint.

Dena’s expression told Lucas he was right. He turned to go.

“Lucas, wait.” She chewed her bottom lip. “It’s not so bad.” Clint’s a hard worker, and I…I love him.”

Lucas shook his head. “Dogged if I can puzzle that one out. See you later, Dena. Call if you need me.”

He clomped down the steps and nearly tripped over a gray cat lying stretched out on the bottom one. “Where’d you come from, buddy?” he asked, surprised Clint would let Dena have a cat.

The tabby blinked and let out a scratchy-sounding meow. Standing, it laced itself through his ankles and back again, then suddenly leaped to another step, batting at a small pebble. One of the dogs came over to investigate, and the tabby gave the mutt a disdainful look and swatted its muzzle before returning to play.

Laughing, Lucas got in his Blazer and turned it around, ignoring the dogs as they chased his rig off the property.

He forced himself to breathe deeply, exhaling through his mouth. What bothered him most was that he could almost see how Dena could still love Clint, in spite of what he did to her. Lucas remembered some good times he and his brother had had before Clint let his drinking take over his life. In many ways, Lucas loved him, and wasn’t willing to give up on him. Their father was serving a sentence for using his fists one time too many—one time too hard. Lucas hated to see Clint headed down a similar path.

Dena had a point. The man needed help. Yet half the time, Lucas just wanted to beat some sense into Clint. Ironically, controlling his own temper wasn’t easy.

He was a lawman on the outside. But inside, he was a Blaylock. And he knew there was a fine line keeping him from being a bastard like his brother and his father.

Lucas smacked the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Unless Dena filed charges—or someone witnessed Clint’s abuse and called the law, which had happened that one time—there was nothing Lucas could do to help her. And unless Clint wanted help, no one could force him to get it.

Lucas drove to the Silver Spur. Sure enough, Clint’s pickup was in the parking lot.

And so was Miranda’s.

He supposed she’d come here to talk to Tori. He hated that Miranda might have to witness an ugly scene between him and Clint, but that’s the way it had to be.

Lucas stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were only a handful of patrons scattered throughout the room, and Clint was one of them. At the bar, Miranda was just sitting down. Tori put what appeared to be a glass of Coke in front of her. They both waved at him, and he nodded, then made his way over to the table where Clint sat swilling longnecks with one of his buddies.

“Look what the wind blew in,” Clint said. He was half-blitzed. “Whatcha’ doin’ here, big brother? Did you come to see me?”

Clint’s pal, Shorty, snickered. “Care to join us, Sheriff?”

“I hope neither one of you is planning to drive home.” Lucas fixed them with a hard stare.

“Why, no,” Clint said, his eyes widening. “We’re gonna call a limo to take us home in style.”

Shorty guffawed, and Clint laughed with him.

In one lightning-quick move, Lucas snatched his brother by the elbow and tugged him from the chair.

“Hey!” Clint stumbled as Lucas pulled him toward a corner of the room. “That’s police brutality right there,” he slurred.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Lucas said sotto voce. “Sit down, bro.” He dropped Clint into a chair, then sat next to him. “Let’s get something straight. I don’t like the way you’re treating your wife. And it had better stop.”

“Or else what?” Clint’s eyes practically crossed as he tried to focus.

“You’ll find out what,” Lucas said. He only wished both Clint and Dena had neighbors close by. Living so far out in the country left Dena and the kids vulnerable. “I’ll lock you up until you rot.”

Clint leaned back in his chair and laughed. “No worries, Lukie. I treat Dena like a queen.”

“Yeah. I saw the bruise. What about the kids, Clint? Don’t you ever think of them?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my kids,” Clint mumbled. “I feed ’em and clothe ’em.”

“Barely.” Lucas leaned close to Clint’s ear, trying not to breathe the alcohol fumes. “You’d better walk the line, Clint. I mean it.” He stood. “Now hand over your keys.”

Clint gave him a dirty look, then reluctantly fished the keys to the beat-up Dodge out of his pocket. He slapped them down on the table, and Lucas pocketed them.

“I’ll leave them at your house.”

“How am I supposed to get home?”

“Not my problem.” Lucas spun on his heel, ignoring Clint as he began to sing, in a drunken, off-key tone, Johnny Cash’s “I Walk the Line.”

“Hey, Sheriff,” Tori said. “What can I get you?”

“A glass of ice water would do fine.” Lucas slid onto the stool next to Miranda’s. She looked worn-out. “I’m surprised to see you here. I’d have thought you’d get some rest after we all left.”

She picked at the thin, plastic straw in her glass. “I don’t think I could sleep if I tried. I just don’t know what to do…where to look.”

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Let me worry about that. My deputies and I won’t rest until Shannon’s home safe and sound.”

“I know. It’s just hard to sit still. Mom’s going out of her mind. She’s in her room with a migraine.”

Lucas nodded his thanks to Tori as she placed a glass of water in front of him. He took a long pull, then set it back on the paper napkin she had whipped out from behind the bar.

“I’m gonna grab a sandwich and go back to my office,” he said. “See if I can figure anything out from Shannon’s phone records.” Garrett was already working on a warrant for them, and for Shannon’s computer, which Paige had gladly turned over to him. Since Shannon was the legal owner, they still needed the warrant to look through it. “Why don’t you go home…. You’ve got some time before the search group meets up again. Maybe you could make a list of anything you might remember…if something comes to mind that you didn’t think of before.”

“Like what?”

“Shannon’s behavior, anything strange beyond what you’ve already told me about her being scared to testify. Things she said or did in the past few days, places she went, people she talked to. You can come down to the station later and file an official missing person’s report.”

“All right.” He read hope in her eyes, and was more determined than ever not to let her down.

Lucas ordered a ham and turkey sandwich, and Tori bustled off to get it from the kitchen. He stood and pulled his wallet from his back pocket to stuff a few bills into the tip jar. “If you want,” he said to Miranda, “you can load your horse into my trailer with Cimarron when we head back out. Save you from pulling your own rig.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather take mine.”

“Suit yourself.”

Tori came back with Lucas’s sandwich, and he paid her with a ten, waving away the change.

“Where are you going to search next?” she asked.

“Everywhere we can.” Lucas jerked his chin toward Clint’s table. “Keep an eye on those two, will you?” He couldn’t care less what happened to Clint right now. But it was his duty to protect innocent victims who might be out on the same roads. “If they try to drive, call me. I’ve got Clint’s keys, but there’s no telling with Shorty.”

“Will do,” Tori said. “He rode here with Clint, so I don’t think you have to worry.”

Lucas snorted. “I wouldn’t put it past him to try to hot-wire that Dodge.”

“I’ll give them a ride if you want,” Miranda offered. “If they’re ready to leave when I go.”

He stiffened. He didn’t want his brother anywhere near her. Just having him in the same room with Miranda was bad enough. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

She scowled. “I’m a big girl, Lucas. I can take care of myself.”

“I don’t doubt that. But I also don’t trust my brother.”

“I get off at five,” Tori said. “If they’re still here, I’ll drop them at Clint’s.” She waved away Lucas’s protest. “I’m not afraid of them. Heck, I outweigh Shorty, and besides, both of them know better than to mess with me. If they did, there’d be hell to pay from Fae and Mae, and that’s a lot of woman all told.” She tucked one hand against her plump waist, striking a pose. “Or I could threaten to cut off their beer.”

Miranda couldn’t help but chuckle.

Lucas shook his head and walked out the door.

CHAPTER FIVE

MIRANDA RODE UNTIL SHE felt as if she’d drop from the saddle. The volunteers had met back at the Rocking W as planned. A few people offered to comb the ranch and surrounding area again for anything they might’ve missed, while the majority—including Miranda, Paige and Lucas—had trailered their horses to a spot where they could ride to the lake from a different direction, ending up in the area where Shannon’s scrunchie had been found. Garrett and another deputy were meticulously going over both sides of the stream bank.

But they didn’t find anything.

It was almost dark by the time Miranda hauled Ranger home to Brush Creek. She rubbed him down, fed and watered him along with the other horses, then took care of the dogs and barn cats. She should go inside and take a hot shower, then grab something to eat, she knew. But she wasn’t hungry, and even though she was bone weary, the idea of lying in bed thinking about Shannon was more than she could bear.

Or thinking about Lucas.

He’d been so kind to her mother that he’d seemed to wear down Paige’s resistance. Miranda reminded herself not to let her own defenses down. Yes, she was grateful to Lucas for all he was doing to find her sister, but that didn’t erase what he’d done to her before.

With Tuck and Smudge following along, Miranda walked the path from the barn’s rear exit and on through the gate. Not far away, a small stream ran past the trees, a natural, year-round source of water for her horses. She found the sound of water gurgling over the rocks soothing, unlike the roar of the big stream they’d ridden around all day.

She sat on the bank while the dogs drank from the clear water. This had always been her favorite spot to sit and think, or occasionally, to read. Long before she’d owned the ranch, when she and Lucas were teenagers, they used to sneak over here, slipping through the barbed wire fence to sit under the giant cottonwoods, where the water formed a pool there.

She and Lucas had made love here on more than one occasion at night, under the wide, starry Montana sky.

Miranda closed her eyes. She shouldn’t come here anymore. Shouldn’t torment herself like this. Her limbs felt heavy, her head cluttered with a jumble of thoughts. Lucas…Shannon…

She woke up to the sound of Smudge growling, followed quickly by warning barks from both dogs. Miranda sat up just in time to see Lucas—his police-issue flashlight in hand—dodge the Australian shepherds as they double-teamed him, nipping at his heels and his pant legs.

“Smudge! Tuck! Here!” Miranda whistled, and both dogs begrudgingly returned to her. She stood up, her mind still unclear. Was she dreaming?

“Damned dogs,” Lucas said. He scowled at her. “What are you doing out here in the dark by yourself? For a minute, I thought you were dead.” He let loose with another expletive. “You scared me half to death.”

“And you scared the hell out of me.” She put her hand up to shield her eyes. “Wanna turn that thing off?”

He did, and it took a minute for her eyes to readjust to the moonlight.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said.

“This is my property,” Miranda pointed out. “Why should you care where I sit?”

“You were asleep…. Anyone could’ve snuck up on you—like I did. Damn, woman. Isn’t it enough that your sister is missing?”

She winced. “I didn’t fall asleep intentionally, and besides, I’ve got my dogs.” She smirked, even if he probably couldn’t tell in the dark. “They were ready to take you on.”

“What if the someone hadn’t been me, but did have a gun?”

Miranda brushed grass and twigs from the seat of her pants. “What are you doing out here?”

“I thought I’d check on you on my way home.” He shifted, and she could hear the leather of his belt creak. “When I saw your house was dark, I figured you were asleep. So I thought…”

“Thought what? How’d you know I was out here?”

“I didn’t.” His tone told her he’d painted himself into a corner. “I guess I just wanted to come sit here by the creek for a few minutes.”

“For old times’ sake?” Miranda knew she sounded snarky, but it was the only defense she could come up with. He still remembered, too. It was unbearable.

“Something like that,” Lucas mumbled.

“Well, you sit here as long as you want. I’m going to bed.” She turned to walk away, and he grabbed her lightly by the elbow.

“Miranda, you know I never meant to hurt you.”

A dry laugh escaped her lips. “Really? And yet you left me in the church, feeling like a fool.”

“Why can’t you understand that I did what was best?”

“Best for who, Lucas? For me? I don’t think so.” She jerked her elbow out of his grasp and flounced toward the house with him following.

She slammed the door in his face, so that he wouldn’t see the tears that welled in her eyes.

“Come on, Miranda. Open up.” He rapped on the screen, setting off the dogs again.

“Go away, Lucas!” Miranda wiped her hands across her cheeks. Everything finally caught up with her. The long day, the search for her sister and now…

“Are you crying? Miranda, I’m sorry. Please, just let me have a minute.”

She took a deep breath, then opened the door, peering at him through the screen. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

“No. Lucas, go home. It’s been a long day.”

He sighed. “I know it has. And I’m sorry. For everything.” He turned and left.

Miranda watched the taillights of his Blazer disappear down the road.

Then she climbed into the shower and let the water wash away the trail dust along with her tears.

LUCAS DIDN’T WASTE ANY time. He drove to the jail in neighboring Cameron County early the next morning and turned his gun and gun belt over to the deputy. Sheriff Runyon himself walked Lucas to the jailhouse and buzzed him through to the visitors’ area. Lucas sat on one side of a Plexiglas partition as Lonnie Masterson, his hair buzzed short, was brought handcuffed into the small room on the other side.

Big and stocky, he wore an orange, short-sleeved jumpsuit that barely fit him, and tattoos lined his arms. He stared menacingly at Lucas, his black eyes piercing as he picked up the phone. Lucas did the same on his side.

“Well, Sheriff Blaylock, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Did you come to bring me some doughnuts?”

“We’ve got a missing woman in my county,” Lucas said, ignoring the remark and cutting right to the chase. “Shannon Ward. What do you know about that?”

“Ah, Shannon Ward.” Masterson smirked. “I know she’s one sweet hunk of tail, and that I danced with her at the Silver Spur awhile back.”

“Awhile back, as in the night you kidnapped and killed Jo Ella Jamison?”

Masterson’s smirk disappeared, replaced by a scowl. “Now, Sheriff, that’s not a very nice thing to accuse a man of. You know I didn’t do anything to Jo Ella except take her out for a good time.”

“Yeah. Your idea of a good time, maybe.”

“Like I told you and Runyon, she was fine the last time I saw her.” He grinned. “Fine as frog’s hair.”

“Yeah, and what about Shannon Ward?”

Lonnie raised his eyebrows. “What about her? I ain’t seen her since I danced with her at the Silver Spur. Pretty little thing. You know, Sheriff, sometimes I wish I had taken her out for a good time that night instead of Jo Ella.”

Lucas gripped the phone so tight he felt it might crack. He’d rather it was Lonnie’s neck. “Maybe you wish Shannon weren’t around to testify against you. Maybe you did something to make sure of it. Which one of your buddies on the outside have you been in touch with lately?”

Lonnie guffawed. “What do I look like? One of the Sopranos?” He leaned close to the Plexiglas. “You bet, Blaylock. I hired Guido to whack her.” Then he leaned back in his chair and laughed.

“If I find out you had anything to do with Shannon’s disappearance, you won’t find your situation so amusing.” With that, Lucas slammed down the phone.