AK-Cowboy Read online

  JULIE BURIED HERSELF IN HER copy of the police file the minute they reached the car. She did a quick search for the photo she’d received yesterday. When she didn’t find it, an uneasy feeling seeped inside her and started crawling along her nerve endings.

  “Either Sheriff Grayson chose not to include the crime scene photo we’ve already seen, or else it was never part of the file.”

  “Did he include any photos?”

  “Yes, just not that one.”

  “If it was originally part of the file, he probably removed it to cover his tracks.”

  “At this point, I hope that’s the case. I’d much rather receive threats from Grayson than from Muriel’s killer.”

  “Is there anything on Zeke Hartwell in the file?”

  “Yes.” She scanned until she found his name again. “Zeke was questioned and then released. He remained a possible suspect until his alibi checked out.”

  “What was it?”

  “He said he was working on Leanne Crier’s house that day. She vowed he didn’t leave the job all day.”

  “I doubt the woman stood there and watched him from sunup to sundown.”

  “Grayson bought her testimony and apparently so did Sheriff Emmons. Zeke was questioned a couple times after that, but he came in willingly and was never arrested.”

  “Was there a lie detector test?”

  “Wait. Let me see if I can find that.” She scanned farther. “Here it is. It says that he was voluntarily tested and that he passed.” She thumbed through to the back of the file. “They included official test documentation on two other people, but not on Zeke.”

  “Who else was tested?”

  “Kara Saunders. She never mentioned that. And Betty Calhoun. I never saw anything about her in any of the articles I read.”

  They rode in silence for at least half an hour while she scrutinized every page.

  “I could use some coffee,” Tyler said.

  She looked up as he slowed and pulled into a parking spot. She’d been so lost in the file’s gore, she hadn’t noticed that they’d pulled off the highway.

  “Where are we?”

  “Bandera, Texas. We’re taking the long way home.”

  “Isn’t this where your brother Sean and his family live?”

  “Yes, but their horse farm is about five miles out of town.”

  “He won’t like it that you’ve come so close and not stopped in to see him.”

  “I promised I’d drive over on Friday so Sean can show me his place.”

  “Sounds like a real family fun day.”

  “It would be, if I felt like family.”

  “You will. It just takes time.”

  “Maybe.”

  He didn’t sound convinced. And, now, when he should be bonding with his brothers and his dad, he was with her, yet again. Her timing in arriving at Mustang Run couldn’t have been worse for him.

  Timing. It was everything when you thought about it. It had put her in the right place at the right time in New Orleans. It had run her off the road just in time to be rescued by the most seductively fascinating man she’d ever met. But timing seemed too circumstantial to explain everything.

  “Do you believe in serendipity, Tyler?”

  “I never gave it much thought.” And it was clearly not something he wanted to discuss.

  He opened his car door and came around to open hers while she carefully slipped every page back into the file. She dropped the whole file into a blue canvas messenger bag and slung it over her shoulder. No way was she leaving it in the car. It was only copies of the original reports but if anything happened to it, she was pretty sure the sheriff would not replace it.

  The ambiance caught her by surprise as she stepped from the car and looked around. “What an interesting place. I feel like I’ve been traveling through time and dropped into the Old West. Look, there’s two horses tied to a hitching post.”

  “I guess that sign says it all.”

  Julie looked where Tyler was pointing. A billboard pronounced Bandera as the cowboy capital of the world.

  “Who knew cowboys had a capital,” she said, captivated by the idea of it.

  The odors of coffee and cinnamon lured them to the door of a stucco shop. A weathered canopy covered an outdoor seating area.

  “Shall we sit outside?” Tyler asked.

  “Better yet, let’s get the drinks to go,” she said. “Walking helps me unwind and the town is so interesting.”

  “Suits me. I’ve never liked sitting in one place too long. Gives the enemy an easy target.”

  The careless comment caused a knot to form in Julie’s throat. The talk of danger had been all about her, but Tyler lived with it every day when he was on active duty.

  “How much longer until your tour of duty is over?” she asked, hating to even think he’d go back to a war so far from home.

  “It all depends on whether or not I reenlist.”

  “And what does that depend on?”

  “What kind of coffee do you want?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “An iced caramel latte,” she said. “With whipped cream.”

  Tyler’s brows arched. “Are we celebrating something?”

  “Spring. Bluebonnets. Cowboys. And serendipity.”

  As expected, Tyler had no response to that, either.

  When they returned to the street, fresh brew in hand, the wind had picked up and a few fluffy clouds had drifted in. The town was no less intriguing with her hair being whipped about her face.

  “Arkey Blue’s Silver Dollar Saloon, established in the 1930s, or so says the sign.” She stopped to take a second look. “Do you realize how many decades that is?”

  “Long enough for the place to have seen its share of good times.”

  “There are a lot of honky-tonks on this one street,” she said.

  “Cowboys are known to play as hard as they work.”

  “I like that about them,” Julie said. “Actually, you’re the first real cowboy I’ve ever met, at least since I’ve been an adult,” she admitted. “There weren’t a lot of genuine cowboys in New Orleans.”

  He grinned and tossed his empty cup into a green waste can. “Too bad I’m just a fake.”

  “Yeah, well, I was sure wrong about that. You’re for real even if those boots are new.”

  “What makes you think so?”

  “I’ve seen you with Dylan and Sean and your dad. You’re all real cowboys, tough but gentle. Protective. Self-reliant. The kind of man you can trust and believe in.”

  “Troy was convicted of murder. That doesn’t exactly make him a hero in my book.” The bitterness slipped into his voice. “And for the record, Julie, I’m no hero, either. So don’t go reading those things into me.”

  She’d said too much. Tyler continued to walk at her side, but he’d pulled away in every way that mattered. But she was right about him. He was the real thing. He just hadn’t found his way all the way home yet.

  An hour later, they parked in front of Janie’s Shears. Once again the sign on the door said Closed. Disappointment curdled in Julie’s stomach.

  “I guess the trip to Mustang Run was a waste of time,” she said. “But Abby assured me yesterday that Janie would be working today.”

  “Something must have come up to keep her from opening the shop.”

  “Which means I have to wait another day to see if she has a relative named Zeke.”

  “What’s plan B?” Tyler asked.

  “Locate and follow the paper trail. That would be easier if I had any idea what part of the country he’s living in now.”

  “I’d suggest you start with Texas,” Tyler said. “If he’s from around here, chances are he didn’t travel too far away.”

  “And yet you may reenlist to go back to the Middle East.”

  He gave her a quizzical look as if he had no idea why she’d brought that up again.

  She hated that she had, but she couldn’t get his leaving off her mind. One kiss, a
nd her head was full of Tyler. This at a time when all her thoughts should be on the Frost case. And on staying alive.

  “How about a burger at Abby’s since we’re right here?” Tyler asked. “It’s only a quarter to twelve. We can beat the downtown lunch bunch.”

  “She’ll think her pie lured me back and be pleased,” Julie said.

  “She’ll be surprised to see you with me. And don’t get paranoid if people get up and walk out when I walk in.”

  “Why would they?”

  “I’m a son of Troy Ledger. Everybody doesn’t forgive and forget.” Including Tyler.

  “The last time you were here, you were only eight years old. No one will recognize you.”

  “You’ve seen one Ledger, you’ve seen them all,” he quipped.

  That wasn’t exactly true, but there was a distinct resemblance between him and Sean and Dylan. And all three of them knock-dead hunks. But there were distinct differences, as well.

  Nonetheless, to her surprise, there were some raised eyebrows when they entered together. A couple frowns of disapproval. Fewer welcoming smiles than she’d received yesterday. Fewer nods. Only one hello and that was from the same elderly man she’d run into yesterday. The gray-haired woman with the walker didn’t look up from the plastic menu she was studying.

  The waitress, however, was all smiles, her appreciation for good-looking cowboys as obvious as yesterday.

  “You’re back,” she said to Julie, though her smile appeared to be all for Tyler. “Abby said you would be.”

  “That Abby must be a fortune teller.”

  “Nope. It’s the pies. Some people drive clear from Austin and then buy two or three whole ones to take home with them.”

  “Then I’ll have to have pie,” Tyler said. “But I’ll start with the jalapeño Angus burger, the half-pounder, with a side of onion rings and a tall glass of iced tea.”

  “Sweet or unsweetened?” She leaned extra close using the excuse of straightening the artificial sweetener crib as she talked.

  “Sweetened, of course.”

  “You sound like a man with a hearty appetite. And you look like a bull rider with all those muscles.”

  “Just the appetite. No bull.”

  She laughed as if that were the funniest comment she’d heard in weeks. Julie realized with a shock that she was jealous. She and Tyler were not a couple. Yet, sitting here watching the waitress flirt so openly, she had to admit that she was much hungrier for another of his kisses than she was for anything on Abby’s menu—including pie.

  UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES, Tyler could have finished off the oversize burger and the plate of crispy onion rings and had room for half of one of Abby’s famous pies. Today he had trouble getting the burger and rings down. His mind was on what he and Julie had left mostly unspoken this morning—the crime scene photo missing from the file.

  The real-deal killer might well be the person determined to stop Julie from pulling the old case out of the freezer. Was he afraid she’d uncover new evidence to tie him to the crime or had it always been there, overlooked by Grayson as a young, inexperienced deputy?

  DNA. Motive. A fake alibi.

  Julie had ignored his threats. Now he might be ready to make good on them. Tyler was here to see that the threats weren’t carried out. But he was only here for a little more than a week.

  Tyler turned to watch her eat. She had the fork in her hand, but she was merely moving the shrimp salad around on her plate.

  “Is the food okay?”

  She put down the fork. “It’s good. I’m just not hungry. Too much on my mind.”

  He reached for her hand and squeezed it. A spiral of raw need flamed inside him, and he wondered again how someone he had just met could have such a profound impact on his libido. It could be the danger, but it seemed like a whole lot more than just physical attraction.

  Sitting here in the midst of all these strangers, he ached to feel her lips on his again.

  A smiling middle-aged woman with a flour-smeared apron sidled up to their booth. “Ah, I see you did come back and you brought a friend.”

  “I did,” Julie said. “I told him that you’d cornered the market on flaky and delicious.”

  “Now you see why I sometimes give away pie.”

  “It was delicious, but actually I came into town to talk to Janie Hartwell. I was upset to see that her shop is closed again today.”

  “And I hate to tell you, but it will be for two more days. Emma Sue from the drug store was just in and she said Janie’s daughter went into labor early. Janie shut down the shop so she could rush over to Houston and be on hand for the birth of her first grandchild. I haven’t heard if she made it on time or not.”

  So there went that option. Frustration killed Julie’s smile.

  “Sorry,” Abby said. “You might check around town. Somebody will know if Tom has a brother named Zeke. Or else they’ll be able to give you Janie’s cell phone number.”

  “Thanks.” Julie turned back to Tyler as if just remembering he were there. “Tyler, this is Abby. She owns the diner.”

  “Tyler.” She narrowed her eyes. “Tyler Ledger.” Abby’s hands flew to the top of her head and her eyes got big as saucers. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you the second I saw you.”

  “I’ve changed since age eight.”

  “Yes, but you look just like your father did at your age. Troy moved into the area and had every female from fourteen to forty swooning over him.”

  “Not a lot of swooning going on in here,” Tyler said.

  “I can’t believe no one told me that you were in town.”

  “I surprised the family, and I’m only here for a few more days.”

  “Three sons back in Texas all at once. I bet Troy has to chisel the grin off his face every morning before he can shave.”

  Tyler let the comment ride.

  The bell over the front door tinkled and a tall lawman in a khaki uniform and a worn brown Stetson stepped through the door. The guy was a bit stooped through the shoulders, but an authoritative air clung to him like cheap aftershave as he swaggered into the diner.

  Abby got his attention and waved him back to their booth. “That’s Glenn McGuire, our sheriff.”

  The sheriff spoke to half the customers on his way back. When he finally reached them, he put his arm around Abby’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t you be in the kitchen baking?”

  She smiled and swayed her hips into his. “I get breaks. Bet you can’t guess who this is,” she said, pointing at Tyler.

  “Tyler Ledger,” the sheriff said. It was clear he wasn’t guessing.

  Without waiting for an invitation that wasn’t going to come, Sheriff McGuire slid into the booth opposite them.

  “I’ve got the chicken fried steak on special,” Abby said.

  McGuire waved off the suggestion. “Ham and cheese sandwich on rye, easy on the mustard, and a cup of coffee. No fries.”

  Abby leaned an elbow on the back of McGuire’s gray plastic seat. “My, but you’re getting persnickety in your old age.”

  “It’s the festival doings. All these strangers piling into town are giving me ulcers.”

  “Ham sandwich coming up. And what kind of pie can I get you, Tyler? On the house, the least I can do for a serviceman.”

  “I can’t possibly swallow another bite.”

  “Then I’ll get you one to take home.”

  “Buttermilk pie?” Julie asked, her tone teasing.

  Abby gave her a wink. “Buttermilk.”

  Tyler had no idea what that was about.

  Julie introduced herself to Sheriff McGuire as Abby walked away.

  “I know who you are and why you’re in Mustang Run,” he said. “Collette told me. You’re wasting your time if you think you’re going to tie Helene Ledger’s murder to Muriel Frost’s.”

  Collette had obviously not inherited her bubbly personality from her dad.

  “What makes you so sure I’m wasting my time?” Julie asked
.

  “I investigated Helene’s murder and I did a dadburn good job of it, no matter what Troy thinks. I didn’t find any evidence that the two were related.”

  Tyler looked the sheriff straight in the eye. “So you took all the circumstantial evidence and decided my father was guilty.”

  “I was the officer in charge, not the judge and jury, so don’t go trying to place blame on me.”

  “I’m just after the facts,” Tyler assured him. “Did you run across the name Zeke Hartwell in your investigation?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. He was a suspect in the Frost murder for awhile, as well, but he was cleared.”

  “Cleared based on an alibi that may have been flawed,” Julie said.

  “I don’t know anything about that. That case wasn’t in my jurisdiction, but I’ve got no reason to think the investigation wasn’t handled well. I know for certain Zeke Hartwell wasn’t responsible for Helene’s murder.”

  “Because of an ironclad alibi?” Tyler asked.

  “As ironclad as you can get. He was in the Lubbock jail at the time for putting his seven-months’-pregnant wife in the hospital. Knocked out some of her teeth and broke a couple ribs, if I remember correctly. And he kicked his wife in the stomach. The wife survived. The baby didn’t.”

  McGuire did have a way of cutting right to the nitty-gritty. Tyler had to admit he liked that about the man.

  McGuire propped his elbows on the narrow table. “You don’t want to tangle with Zeke Hartwell, Julie. He’s buck-snorting mean. I wouldn’t put anything past the guy.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she promised.

  Abby returned with the pie in a white to-go box. “Your order will be right out, Sheriff. And Tyler, it’s real nice having you back in town. And tell that father of yours I expect to see him at the dance on Thursday night. People might gawk and talk at first, but they’ll get past it.”

  Tyler wasn’t so sure about that. He drove by the park as they were leaving town. Small tents were being set up around the perimeter. A large tent was going up near the gazebo, no doubt for the dance Abby had mentioned. Tyler stopped at a red light behind a pickup truck loaded with folding tables.