Man Behind The Badge

Young Keller’s misdeed reminded Charlie of some of the stunts he and his brothers had pulled as kids, but his grin faded at the memory of their father’s wrath and the punishments he gave. Jason had gotten off easy today, apparently unaware of worse consequences than repainting and restriction for childish pranks. Garth Winchester hadn’t believed in sparing the rod, the belt or his fists.

The sight of Adam’s black pickup parked by the door to the stable was a welcome distraction, as was the idea of a cold soda from the tack room fridge. That and asking if any more dead cattle had been found were reasons enough to stop by, if Charlie had needed a reason.

When he walked into the cool, dim interior of the broodmare barn, he spotted Adam and his stepson, David, home on summer break from college. Both men were watching an Appaloosa dam and her offspring in one of the roomy stalls.

“Don’t you two have any real work to do?” Char lie asked as he joined them. “I thought the Appies were supposed to be a hobby.”

“Not for several years now.” Adam hadn’t taken his attention from the leopard-spotted colt in the stall with his mother. “Can’t get rich raising cattle in this market.”

Charlie knew the industry had been depressed for years. Only careful management kept many of the lo cal ranches from going under. Even an operation as large as theirs felt the pinch.

“What’s new?” he asked David as a greeting. “Still seeing that Parker girl?”

David shrugged. His lean frame had filled out some in the last year. When he’d first come to Colorado with his mother from L.A. half a decade ago, his hair was orange, his clothes were bizarre and he’d sported a chip on his shoulder the size of a cow pie. Now he looked more like a local to Charlie than some of the kids who’d been born here.

“Joey and I aren’t serious,” David replied, tugging on the brim of his ball cap. “We’ll probably break up before I go back to school.”

“You sound like your uncle,” Adam remarked as he finally turned his back on the horses. “Love-’em-and-leave-’em Winchester.”

“Give the kid some time,” Charlie said. “He’s barely old enough to drink without getting busted, and he hasn’t finished college yet. The last thing he needs to think about is getting serious about some girl looking for a ring.”

Adam gave his stepson a playful thump on the shoulder. The two of them were the same height now, over six feet tall. “Your uncle’s just not ready to give up the title.”

“Not true.” Charlie ducked into the tack room and helped himself to a soda. “If I could find a woman like your wife, I’d get hitched in a minute.”

“Took me two tries to get it right, though,” Adam reminded him before turning to David. “You should finish school before you decide to start a family.”

If Adam had followed his own advice, he wouldn’t have a daughter, Charlie thought as he downed half the soda in one swallow, but he didn’t mention Kim. For the first fifteen years of her life, after her parents’ divorce, she had lived here with her father. Then Kim had surprised everyone by going with her mother when she moved from Denver to Seattle.

“Don’t worry about me.” David looked uncomfortable. “I’m staying single.”

Charlie figured it was time to show the boy a little mercy. “Have you had a chance to find out if that rat poison we found came from the shed or not?” he asked his brother.

Adam’s grin faded. “Every sack’s accounted for and none of the boys have noticed anything unusual. Whoever’s responsible brought the poison with them. Any news on your end?”

Charlie wished he had some easy answers. “No reports of stock dying under suspicious circumstances.” He rolled his shoulders to loosen the sudden tension gripping them. “I hate to say it, bro, but it’s beginning to look like someone may not like you much. Have you had any problems with the help? Pissed someone off? Fired them?”

“You know this isn’t the season for letting guys go.” Adam traced a pattern in the wood along the top of the stall door. “We’re always shorthanded until after haying and the fall roundup.”

“What about that fellow from Texas you caught drinking?” David asked as he sat down on a hay bale. “He was pretty unhappy when you cut him loose.”

“That was a while ago.” Adam frowned. “I heard he went back home, somewhere down near Dallas.”

Charlie took a notebook from his pocket. “What’s his name?” he asked, pen poised. “I’ll check him out, see if he’s still hanging around.”

Through the open stable door came the sound of a vehicle pulling up, followed a couple of moments later by the thumps of car doors shutting.

David got to his feet, and Charlie finished writing down the fired cowhand’s name, Mickey Barstowe.

“Expecting anyone?” he asked as he put away the notebook and pen.

“Just Doc Harmon coming to check out Joker here. He took a spill yesterday, and his leg’s a little hot.”

At the mention of the vet, Charlie looked around hopefully. Sure enough, following the doc through the stable doorway was his new assistant. Both of them carried leather bags.

“Is this what our tax dollars pay for?” Doc Harmon demanded with a smile. “For you to goof off?”

“You got it,” Charlie replied, glancing at Robin.

The only indication she gave that they’d already met was a small smile.

“Get that tire fixed okay?” Charlie asked her after introductions had been made all around.

Her cheeks turned pink, and she frowned. Moisture beaded her upper lip. “Yes, thank you,” she said, her tone prissy.

Charlie nearly chuckled out loud. She’d be fun to tease, as long as he didn’t upset her too much. She was too uptight.

“Change the tire yourself?” her boss asked when she didn’t elaborate.

Her chin went up in a gesture Charlie recognized as purely defensive. “Actually, my neighbor changed it for me.” It was easy to see from her glance at Charlie that the admission was hard to spit out. The woman sure came with a lot of prickles, but the sweetest fruit was surrounded by thorns.

Catching her glance, he gave her a deliberate wink before she jerked her attention away. “Always nice to have someone pitch in and help,” he said in as bland a tone as he could muster.

She didn’t answer. After a moment of awkward silence, Adam asked where she was from.

“Chicago,” she replied, looking relieved. “I grew up there.”

“You’re a long way from home,” David observed. He’d straightened up and puffed out his chest. Didn’t the boy realize how obvious he looked, grinning at her with calf’s eyes while he flexed his arms like a damn body builder?

“I wanted to get some experience with large animals,” she explained. “That’s my main interest.”

“Well, let’s look at the colt,” Doc Harmon interrupted before David could ask any more questions. “Has he been limping?”

Charlie stood back and watched as both vets took their time entering the roomy stall and making sure the horses were at ease before they proceeded. Robin’s nervousness seemed to vanish. Even her voice changed, going all husky and soft.

A man could get lost in the sound of it, Charlie thought, even if her appearance was strictly business. She wore a loose-fitting white blouse and long tan pants, despite the heat of the afternoon. Too bad she didn’t dress like the clinic receptionist. There was a woman who knew how to draw a man’s attention, even as she blinded him with color and sparkle. Everything Erline wore was short, tight and bright.

Charlie tried to imagine Robin in that type of getup and failed. It was impossible to guess her shape with the way her clothing fit. Maybe that was the point.

The other four people were busy with the horses, and he knew he’d only make her uncomfortable if he tried to talk to her now. Tipping back his head, he finished off the can of soda.

“I’ll see you all later,” he said to no one in particular after he’d tossed the empty can into a nearby recycling bin. “Duty calls.”

Three male heads turned. Three masculine voices said goodbye. Dr. Marlowe was bent down by the colt. She never even looked up.

“Something else?” Adam asked when Charlie hesitated.

“I hope the little guy’s okay,” Charlie said, staring at the back of Robin’s head. Her short hair was as dark as a crow’s and as shiny as the paint on a new Mercedes.

Adam gave him a puzzled look. “Thanks. Keep me up to speed on the other business.”

Other business? Had Adam picked up on Charlie’s interest in the new vet?

His momentary blankness must have shown. “My cattle,” Adam prompted him dryly. “They’re dying, remember?”

“Sure thing,” Charlie stuttered. “I’ll let you know.” He didn’t dare risk another glance at Robin to see if she’d been listening to the awkward exchange. Before his oldest brother, as sharp as the rowel on a new spur and twice as scary as any bad guy, could figure out the reason Charlie had been distracted, he turned and fled.

Chapter Three

Robin pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine. She’d been on the go since six that morning, blowing out the side door with a bagel in one hand, accompanying Doc Harmon on a call first thing, assisting him in surgery back at the clinic to set a dog’s shattered leg and then vaccinating a litter of kittens. In the afternoon, with a map and Erline’s written instructions on the seat next to her bag, she’d made two calls on her own.

Robin frowned as her grip on the wheel tightened. She made herself glance down at the small basket of plump ripe tomatoes given to her by a grateful patient. After she’d treated the eye of an old pony with conjunctivitis, his equally ancient but much nicer owner had presented Robin with the fresh-picked tomatoes.

“Jethro usually bites Doc Harmon,” the woman added, which explained why he’d sent Robin this time.

“I’m quicker on my feet than my boss,” she’d replied with a wink that had earned a cackle of laughter.

Mrs. Sloan’s thanks had still been echoing in her ears when she’d arrived at her next stop, feeling cocky and confident, to check on a gelding with a persistent cough.

“I asked for Doc Harmon,” the rancher had snarled after she’d introduced herself and stuck out her hand. “Go back and tell him not to send a girl to do a man’s job.” After spitting a stream of tobacco that landed an inch from her shoe, he’d stalked away, leaving her stunned and speechless.

Robin wasn’t given to tears, but her eyes had been burning when she’d let herself back out the gate. She’d figured that convincing people to trust her with their livestock might take time, given her lack of experience. Her advisor had even suggested that a shrimp like her would be better off specializing in cats or exotic birds.

What Robin hadn’t expected, had not been prepared for at all, was such open rudeness, such bristling hostility, because she was a female.

She’d spent most of the drive back to town thinking of all the replies she could have made but hadn’t. Even if her chance of prying open his closed mind was zero, zilch, nada, she should have tried.

Now Robin got out of her car, too tired to contemplate the possible number of chauvinists in Elbert County, and walked back down the driveway to check her mail.

Before she got to the box at the curb, Mae came out her front door. “You didn’t get anything today,” she called.

“I beg your pardon?” Automatically, Robin looked into the mailbox lined up with those of her neighbors. Sure enough, it was empty.

Mae came around the end of the picket fence between their two houses carrying a plate covered with plastic wrap. Today her crinkled nylon jogging suit was fluorescent pink.

“I would have left your mail on your side porch when I got ours,” she said. “Did you put in a change of address? You know it takes a few days to go through.”

Robin wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t want to be rude, but neither did she like having her privacy invaded. Clearly she needed to establish boundaries before things got out of hand.

“Don’t feel bad, dear,” Mae continued. “Your friends probably don’t have your new address yet, but you’ll be hearing from them before you know it.”

Robin couldn’t think of anyone who’d contact her, unless it was about some bill she’d overlooked when she left Chicago. She’d kept to herself and with good reason. Did pariahs have friends?

Mae was studying Robin through her thick lenses. “Long day, huh? Ed was up early, and he saw you leave this morning. You look washed-out. A little blusher would give your cheeks some color.”

“Is that so?” Robin managed, feeling slightly overwhelmed. She didn’t bother to explain that she never wore makeup anymore. Mae might ask why not. Her own bright cheeks were a testament to the power of cosmetics.

“You know a bagel isn’t enough breakfast, if that’s the only thing you had,” Mae went on in a scolding tone. She held out the plate she’d been carrying. “Here’s some chicken salad for your dinner. I made extra. You shouldn’t eat a heavy meal too close to your bedtime.”

Robin looked down at the nicely arranged slices of chicken breast and tomato on a bed of crisp lettuce. A little cup of dressing was tucked next to a hardboiled egg cut in wedges and sprinkled lightly with paprika.

Her mouth began to water. Lunch had been half a peanut butter sandwich eaten on the run. How could she accept the salad and then tell her obviously well-intentioned neighbor to butt out?

“Thank you.” Robin caved in without a struggle. “It looks wonderful.” She could always set boundaries later.

“Don’t worry about returning the plate,” Mae said as she walked away. “There’s no hurry. And don’t stay up too late. You need your rest so you don’t get sick.”

Robin was never sick, but she made a mental note to close the front curtains later, so the light from her television didn’t shine through the window.

By the time she’d finished the salad, a glass of the sun tea she’d made the day before and a piece of leftover garlic bread she’d found in the refrigerator, she felt as if she just might survive. She tidied the kitchen and flopped down on the couch with a sigh. Grabbing the remote, she switched on a TV game show, but she couldn’t concentrate. Instead she went back over her boss’s reaction to the message Robin had relayed from Elmer Babcock.

Doc Harmon had merely shaken his head dismissively. “Don’t worry about it,” he’d said. “The man’s head is like a four-fingered bowling ball, solid as a rock and with too many holes.”

Erline had snorted loudly at his quip, but Robin barely managed a smile.

“It was probably my fault for not warning you,” he’d added with a paternal pat on her shoulder. “We’ll bide our time. Sooner or later the old coot will need you more than you need him.”

At least he hadn’t suggested she not go back.

Now Robin switched channels restlessly and then turned off the TV. Running into the reality of that kind of gender bias hurt more than she would have figured. Especially after the warm welcome she’d received from people like Adam Winchester.

Both he and David, the younger man she thought must be Adam’s son, had seemed genuinely pleased to meet her. They were both rugged, attractive males, something she could appreciate in a totally platonic way. David had even offered to show her around the area when she had time, but she’d been so busy examining her patient, a darling colt with spots like a dalmatian, that she didn’t think she’d even replied. Not that it mattered. She was too old for David to be interested in her. He was just being polite.

She tried to block her mind from thinking about the other brother, the sheriff she’d met before. He was there at the stable when she and Doc arrived, but he’d barely spoken to Robin and he’d left right away.

Not that she’d noticed, of course. Nor had she been disappointed that he hadn’t said goodbye to her, either.

By Friday Robin was actually looking forward to the weekend, even though she loved her job. She’d be on call, which was both exciting and scary.

“You’ve earned a break. Besides, I have paper work to finish on Saturday, so I’ll be here at the clinic most of the day, anyway,” Doc Harmon told her as she was getting ready to leave work. “Go out tonight. Relax, have fun.”

“I’ve got some unpacking left to do.” She pictured the lone box of books sitting in the bedroom.

“Oh, too exciting,” Erline drawled, waving her freshly painted nails to dry them. “How can you stand it?”

Robin ignored her jibe, but Doc Harmon swiveled his head. “And what are you doing this weekend?” he asked the receptionist. “Got a hot date?”

“In this town?” she shot back. “Are you kidding? The men around here are either married or they’re your age. Or both.” She rolled her eyes and fanned herself. “Be still my heart.”

He peered at her over the tops of his glasses while Robin waited expectantly. “Or they’re just too darned picky,” he drawled.

Erline blew a bubble and then she turned her attention to Robin. “My girlfriend Carol and I are going out for dinner and a couple of drinks. Want to come along?”

Robin was about to refuse when Doc spoke up for her. “Good idea. She’ll go.”

Why did everyone she’d met think they had to help run her life? “I have things to do,” she protested.

He raised his eyebrows, his expression stern. “You need to get out, meet people. Bring us more business. Charlie’s Heart is a good place to start.”

“Charlie’s what?” she echoed.

“It’s a restaurant and lounge,” Erline interjected. “Food’s good, and they’ve got live music on the weekends, even though the dance floor’s the size of my desk.”

Oh, great, Robin thought. A bar with music and dancing. Men on the prowl. “I don’t think so.”

Erline ducked her head and pulled open a file drawer. “Your loss.”

“I’ve got to call the lab.” Doc Harmon headed for the back room with a folder under his arm.

Despite Erline’s colorful appearance and wise-cracking attitude, Robin liked her. Beneath her cocky veneer, the older woman seemed to have a genuine affection for the animals they treated. She shrugged off Robin’s mistakes and swept aside her apologies with a smile or a joke.

Robin hated the idea that she might have hurt the older woman’s feelings. And Doc was right: Robin owed it to him and the practice to get out and meet people.

“If the invitation is still open, I’d like to go,” she said hesitantly.

Erline’s head popped back up, and she blew a bubble. “Great. We’ll pick you up at eight, so we don’t miss happy hour. Carol’s a hoot. You’ll like her.” She studied Robin with a considering expression as she worked her gum. “Wear something more, you know, feminine.”

Fashion advice from a Barbie doll look-alike, even one with a heart of gold, wasn’t exactly what Robin wanted to hear. Clothes weren’t a priority of hers. “How dressy is this place?”

Erline pursed her lips. “Oh, people wear just about anything, Western, casual, whatever.” Her expression brightened. “I’ll bet we’re about the same size except for our height. Want to borrow something of mine?”

Today she was wearing an electric-blue leather miniskirt paired with a striped peasant blouse in some shiny fabric that dipped low in the front and clung to her generous curves like a coat of paint. Matching feather and rhinestone earrings swung wildly whenever she moved her head. If she and Robin were the same size, so were Texas and Rhode Island.

“No, thanks. That’s really nice of you to offer, but I’ll find something.” Robin hoped her smile offset her hasty refusal.

For a moment she thought Erline was going to argue. From the other room she heard a fit of coughing, and she wondered if Doc had heard them.

The phone on Erline’s desk rang. “See you later,” she told Robin with a wink as she reached for the receiver.

Robin left the clinic with mixed feelings about the evening ahead. By seven-thirty she was kicking herself for agreeing to go. On the bed before her was every garment she owned that was remotely suitable. Not only wouldn’t anything there measure up to Erline’s assessment of feminine attire, even Robin was painfully aware of the lack.

Hands on hips, she stared down at the skimpy selection. She’d ruled out the cotton slacks and tailored cotton blouses she’d bought for work, the worn jeans and faded T-shirts, the shorts she saved for hot weather. That left two dresses she wore to church and one with a halter top she’d bought on impulse for a party back in school. She’d changed her mind about attending and the tag was still attached. No Returns, it said. All Sales Final.

What had she been thinking when she bought it? The dress was shorter than she liked and the back dipped too low for her to wear a bra with it. At least the color was plain dark blue, not showy at all, and she had sandals that would match it.

Decision made, she was dressed and ready fifteen minutes early. Restlessly she paced the small living room, watching through the window for Erline’s car so she could go outside as soon as the other two women pulled into the driveway and save them the trouble of getting out. She would have waited on the porch except that Mae and Ed were working in their yard and she didn’t feel like chatting with them—or answering Mae’s inevitable questions.

Robin hadn’t yet returned their plate. Aunt Dot had taught her never to return a dish empty, so maybe tomorrow she’d make some brownies if it wasn’t too hot to run the oven.

Before she could speculate further, a shiny red Honda turned into her driveway with two women in side. Recognizing Erline in the passenger seat, Robin grabbed her purse. Out of habit, she locked the side door after her and waved at her neighbors as Erline got out of the car to let Robin climb in the back. Erline was wearing a tight sleeveless red knit dress with matching hoop earrings. She glanced at Robin’s outfit, but didn’t comment.

“You don’t get carsick, do you?” Erline asked as she pulled the seat forward. “Because if you do, I can ride back there, but we’re only two minutes from Charlie’s.”

“I’ll be fine.” As she climbed in, Robin nodded shyly at the woman behind the wheel. “Hi.”

“Carol, this is Robin,” Erline said. “And vice versa.”

“Nice to meet you,” Carol drawled. She had long brown hair with lighter streaks and a round, pretty face that was carefully made up.

“Carol’s from Atlanta, in case you can’t tell.” Erline’s brassy blond hair sprang away from her face in waves and was puffed up on top. Riding in the car with the two other women, Robin felt like a plain little sparrow trapped in a parakeet cage.

Not an especially flattering image for any of them.

“How long have you lived here?” Robin asked Carol as they turned the corner at the end of her street.

“Ten years.” Carol glanced into the rearview mirror. “I teach secondary school in Elizabeth. Erline tells me you’re from Chicago.”

“Born and bred.”

“I went to Chicago once on vacation with my family, but I didn’t care for it much,” Carol replied, turning another corner. She pronounced her I as Ah. Robin was surprised her accent was still so strong after a decade spent in Colorado.

Before Robin had the chance to think up a suitable response, Carol whipped the car over to an empty spot by the curb. Other vehicles already lined both sides of the street.

Robin hadn’t driven down this way or had time to do much exploring yet, but now she saw the sign in front of the big one-story building that appeared to be their destination. Despite the waning daylight, Charlie’s Heart pulsated in red and pink neon. When Erline opened the car door, Robin could hear the rhythmic throb of music coming from inside the club.

The sign made her think of the sheriff. Charlie must be a common nickname in Waterloo. Would he be here tonight or was he at home with a family of his own? She hadn’t noticed a ring on his finger, but of course that didn’t mean anything and she hadn’t really been looking.

An image of little cowkids wearing miniature badges and cowboy hats made her smother a grin. Then a gorgeous blonde slid into Robin’s mental picture and tucked her arm through Sheriff Winchester’s.