Cowboy Conspiracy

The older man walked over to the counter. “What’s this about a car being stolen from the parking lot, Edie?”

Obviously, they knew one another.

“Can you believe it? Some slimeball jerk who stopped in just before the storm hit left in the woman’s car. And her with a kid. The gall of some creeps.”

“You saw him drive off in the car?”

“No,” Edie admitted. “But right smack in the middle of the worst of the storm, with the lights flickering and the power threatening to go at any second, the badass made a suggestive comment as I refilled his coffee cup.”

“And you didn’t dump the rest of the pot on him?” the younger deputy asked.

“I told him to go screw himself. He paid his tab, no tip, of course. Then he walked out without a word to anyone and drove off in this lady’s car.” She pointed toward Kelly and then propped her hands on her hips. “I should have at least spit in the slimy bastard’s coffee.”

“If you still have coffee, Brent and I could use a cup.”

“No spit,” Brent teased. “I’m armed.”

“You’d deserve it, since you haven’t stopped by in weeks.” She smiled and cut her eyes flirtatiously.

The older man directed his attention to Kelly. “I’m Sheriff Glenn McGuire. Brent Cantrell, here, is my deputy. Sorry about the car, but we’ll do what we can to get your vehicle back.”

Sheriff Glenn McGuire. Wyatt recognized the name at once. The infamous sheriff had been the one who’d investigated the murder case against Wyatt’s father and then made the arrest. He’d been a deputy back then. His arrest of Texas’s infamous wife killer no doubt helped propel him to the position of sheriff. He’d held the position ever since.

Oddly, McGuire was practically part of the Ledger family now and apparently a capable sheriff. He’d helped out Wyatt’s brothers on several occasions. Danger and mishaps had plagued the sons of Troy Ledger over the past year and a half since Troy had been released from prison.

Which meant that the good sheriff would know exactly who Wyatt was the second he gave his name. Then, in all probability, the entire Ledger clan would likely get word Wyatt was in town before morning.

“I really need to get my car back as soon as possible,” Kelly said.

McGuire ran his fingers through his thinning hair. “Yes, ma’am. That’s what we’re here for. I’ll need you to answer a few questions to get us started. It won’t take long. If you live around here, you might want to go ahead and call your husband to come pick you up.”

“I’m a widow, and I don’t have any friends in the area that I can call. I’m in the process of moving to Mustang Run from another part of the country. The moving van is delivering my furniture in the morning.”

“Mustang Run. Good place to live,” the sheriff said. “Live there myself and have for most of my life. Believe me, you’ll have plenty of friends soon. It’s that kind of town.” He nodded toward Wyatt. “So I take it you two aren’t together.”

“No,” Wyatt said. “I was the only other customer when the car was stolen and I just stayed around to offer a little moral support. I can clear out now if I’m not needed.” Before he ran smack into the legend of Troy Ledger. He’d as soon not face that tonight.

“How about hanging around a few more minutes?” the sheriff said. “Brent and I will want to ask you a few questions, as well.”

That eliminated the easy escape. But on one level, he was relieved. He was curious about Kelly Burger. And a bit concerned that the thug who had looked at her like he was the wolf and she was the lamb now knew where she lived and had likely overheard Jaci’s comment about her father being dead. He might figure she and Jaci would be alone tonight.

The bell over the door tinkled again and this time a burly guy accompanied by a petite blonde walked in. Edie greeted them by name. Judging from the comments, they were a truck-driving team who stopped by often. Edie scurried off to take care of them.

“Is that your Corvette out there?” the sheriff asked Wyatt.

“No. I’m driving the black pickup truck. I figure the guy who stole Ms. Burger’s Honda drove up in that. It was the only car parked out front when I came in and he was the only customer.”

“A Honda for a Corvette. Interesting trade. Brent, run the plates on the Corvette. My guess is it’s hot.”

Good assumption. Wyatt sipped his coffee while the sheriff gathered the basic information from Kelly. His interest piqued when they got to the address where Kelly would be living.

“That’s the old Callister place, isn’t it?” McGuire asked. “Yellow cottage-style house, down from the old Baptist church.”

“Yes. How did you know?”

“My daughter Collette rented the place for a while back when she was single. I was glad to see her move out.”

“Why?” Kelly asked.

“I probably shouldn’t even mention this,” McGuire said, “but I’m sure you’ll hear from someone else if not from me. My daughter’s friend was brutally attacked in that house. She’s fine now, but it was touch-and-go for a while. Turned out the guy was actually after my daughter. But don’t worry. He’s behind bars now.”

“I hope your daughter is okay,” Kelly said.

“She’s fine now. Married and with a bun in the oven.”

Wyatt was familiar with that part of the story. The sheriff’s daughter was married to Wyatt’s brother Dylan. This was becoming all too familial. All they needed was some fried chicken and banana pudding and it would be a family reunion.

How did people ever have any privacy in a town like Mustang Run?

“That house has been empty for over a year,” McGuire continued. “Place needs a paint job and lots of work. Last time I drove by to check things out, I noticed an oak tree in front that needs to be cut down.”

“I loved that tree. I remember climbing it when I was about Jaci’s age and having tea parties with Grams under those huge spreading branches.”

“Well, it’s dead now. Lightning bolt last spring nailed it and it looks like the first good wind will lay it on the roof.”

“I wasn’t made aware of any of that.”

“House was in perfect shape when Cordelia Callister was living. She’d probably roll over in her grave if she knew it was in such a state of disrepair.”

“Surely it isn’t that bad.”

“It’s bad enough that whoever rented it to you should have explained how much work it needs before they took your money. If you need help breaking the lease, call Judge Betty Smith. Number’s in the book. She’ll tell you what to do.”

“Actually, I own that house,” Kelly admitted. “I had no idea it was neglected. For years, I’ve been paying a man named Arnold Jenkins to manage the property.”

McGuire rubbed his whiskered jaw. “So you own the old Callister home place? Did you buy it sight unseen?”

“I didn’t buy it. I inherited it. Cordelia was my grandmother.”

“Well, hell’s bells. Then you must be Linda Ann’s daughter. Why didn’t you say so?”

“I didn’t expect anyone around here to remember my mother.”

“All the old-timers around here remember her. She grew up in Mustang Run and that was back when everybody knew everybody.”

It appeared they still did.

McGuire hooked his thumbs in his belt loop and hitched up his pants. “Don’t that beat all, you showing up back here after all these years? Linda Ann left Mustang Run right after she graduated from UT and that’s pretty much the last we’ve seen of her. How’s she doing?”

“Mother’s doing well.”

“I remember Cordelia talking about Linda Ann being a single mother after your father was killed. Car crash, wasn’t it?”

Kelly nodded. “He died before I was born.”

McGuire rubbed his jaw. “Did Linda Ann ever marry again?”

“Yes, six years ago. She married a physics professor that she worked with in Boston. He retired last year and surprisingly, they moved to Plano, Texas.”

“Guess your grandmother figured Linda Ann wasn’t ever going to move back to Mustang Run so she just left her property to you.”

“Exactly. But apparently I should have checked on it personally before now. In my defense, I’ve been occupied with other matters and I trusted that Mr. Jenkins was taking care of repairs.”

“I’m afraid Arnold’s been snookering you for over a year. He’s got the rheumatism so bad now he had to give up his membership in the local spit-and-whittle society. He’s been at his son’s house in California since before Thanksgiving.”

“Spit and whittle?” Kelly questioned, confusion written on her face.

“The unofficial society for retired men,” Wyatt explained. And now that he’d interrupted the dialogue, he might as well come clean and jump into the old-home-week party.

Wyatt stuck out a hand toward the sheriff. “I should introduce myself. I’m Wyatt Ledger.”

The sheriff’s eyebrows rose. He leaned back on his heels, studying Wyatt. “Yep, I see the family resemblance now. Dylan talks about you all the time, but he didn’t say a word about his infamous Atlanta detective brother coming for a visit.”

“No one in the family knows I’m here,” Wyatt admitted.

“Planning to surprise ‘em, uh? Believe me, they will be. Sure as shootin’, Troy will kill the fatted calf. How long you here for?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Well, I’d like to sit down and chew the fat with you while you’re in town, see how the big-city way of doing things compares with our methods. The county is growing so fast, we’re adding a specialized homicide division. I could use your input.”

“I’d be glad to give it.”

“Right now we’d better get to the business at hand.”

Wyatt caught a whiff of Kelly’s perfume as she and the sheriff stepped away. Add that to the sway of her hips and the effect was intoxicating.

A half hour later, it had all been said. As suspected, the Corvette had been stolen in Houston earlier that day, the keys taken from a woman in her own driveway as she was getting in the car.

While the sheriff had questioned Kelly, Brent had taken down a detailed description of the suspect from Wyatt and Edie. Jaci was still sleeping soundly.

McGuire took another call on his cell phone, the third since he’d arrived. Evidently the weather was playing havoc with driving. When the sheriff broke the connection, he gulped down the remains of his second cup of coffee and turned to Wyatt.

“I’ve got a truck that skidded off the road and into a ditch on Buchanan Road that I need to attend to. Seeing as how both you and Mrs. Burger are going to Mustang Run, how about you giving her a lift into town?”

An offer Wyatt had made earlier and had the proposal refused. But that was when he and Kelly were strangers. Now they shared a membership in the elite Mustang Run descendants club.

Now Wyatt was the one with concerns. “I’ll be glad to drive Mrs. Burger into town, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for her to stay at her house tonight.”

“The house needs work, but it’s not going to cave in on her,” McGuire argued. “It’s been standing for more than a hundred years.”

“The thief looked about as unsavory as they come,” Wyatt said. “Even if he can’t break into her computer files, there’s information in the stolen car about where she lives. And I suspect he has a good hunch she’ll be there alone.”

“More likely, the thief is long gone from the area by now,” McGuire said. “But the decision for where she stays is up to Mrs. Burger.”

Kelly chewed her bottom lip nervously and turned toward Wyatt. “Do you really think Jaci and I might be in danger?”

“Probably not, but why chance it? Spend the night in a motel and give the guy plenty of time to move on. There are two in town.”

“That’s an option,” the sheriff agreed, “but they might not have a vacancy tonight. They’re small motels and there’s a big gun show in town this weekend.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to check them out,” Wyatt said.

The sheriff pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and rattled them as if he were eager to leave. “Tell you what, if you do stay at the house, I’ll have one of the deputies do drive-bys every hour or so. If you get anxious or even think you hear someone trying to break in, call 911 and he can get there quicker than a snake can slither through a hollow log.”

Kelly pushed her half bangs away from her face. “I’d appreciate that.”

Wyatt still didn’t like it, but it seemed he wasn’t getting a vote. But as long as he was driving Kelly and Jaci into town, he still had time to talk Kelly into staying in a motel.

He was being overly cautious. But then, dealing with dead victims on a regular basis did that for a man.

McGuire got as far as the door and turned back. “Another option would be to drive Mrs. Burger and her daughter out to Willow Creek Ranch. I’m sure Troy would be glad to put them up for the night,” McGuire said. “There’s plenty of room in that rambling old house.”

Wyatt nodded, but he wasn’t keen on that idea.

“You two work it out and let me know what you decide. The deputy can be in the area if you need him, Mrs. Burger. But now that I think about it, staying out at the Ledger ranch is what I’d recommend.”

“I’ll go make room for a couple of extra passengers in my truck,” Wyatt said, deciding to leave before he said too much. As far as he was concerned, the ranch was a last resort. Reuniting with Troy would be stressful enough without pulling a woman he barely knew into the sticky mix.

Fortunately, the rain had stopped, since making room for two passengers required moving his clothes from the backseat to the covered bed of the truck. When the truck was ready, he made one quick call to Alyssa and then went back for his two charges.

The intriguing and naively seductive Kelly Burger would be the first female passenger in his new truck. This was where Alyssa’s ridiculous raised-by-a-family-of-skunks analogy might actually come in handy.

Too bad that Kelly smelled so damn good.

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