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Protector
Diana Palmer


New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author Diana Palmer takes readers back to Jacobsville, Texas, where Hayes Carson is a lawman on a search for justice.His brother had been the only family he had left in the world. Hayes, a long, tall and serious Texan, has long been suspicious of the blonde-haired, bright-eyed Minette Raynor, who is both mysterious and beautiful. And now he's convinced that Minette was involved in giving his brother the drugs that killed him. As far as Hayes is concerned, neither her looks nor anything else will stand in the way of him righting what is so very wrong.Minette can’t get Hayes off her mind, or off her back. His investigation of her is a nuisance, but as an undercover DEA agent, that’s the least of her worries. Until she finds herself in great danger, and he's the only one who can save her.Can she count on Hayes believing the truth—and saving her life?







New York Times bestselling author Diana Palmer takes readers back to Jacobsville, Texas, where Hayes Carson is a lawman on a search for justice.

His brother had been the only family he had left in the world. Hayes, a long, tall and serious Texan, has long been suspicious of the blond-haired, bright-eyed Minette Raynor, who is both mysterious and beautiful. And now he’s convinced that Minette was involved in giving his brother the drugs that killed him. As far as Hayes is concerned, neither her looks nor anything else will stand in the way of him righting what is so very wrong.

Minette can’t get Hayes off her mind, or off her back. His investigation of her is a nuisance, but as an undercover DEA agent, that’s the least of her worries. Until she finds herself in great danger, and he’s the only one who can save her. Can she count on Hayes believing the truth—and saving her life?


Protector

Diana Palmer






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Dear Reader,

As most of you know, Sheriff Hayes Carson has been one of my longest-running characters. He’s been in the Long, Tall, Texans series almost from the beginning. He’s comforted sad heroines, he’s captured bad guys, he’s investigated murders, and he’s done it all with grace and humor.

Now, finally, his lonely life is coming to a close. I mean that he’s finally met the woman of his dreams and she turns out to be his worst enemy, Minette Raynor. I loved the way she stood up to him in Winter Roses. I love the way she is with her siblings. She is a woman with grace and guts. Just perfect for a guy like Hayes.

I won’t give away the story line, but she proves that women can be heroines as surely as men can, without losing one iota of their femininity. In between her trials and tribulations with Hayes, she has to gain the affection of a very large lizard who hates her.

I have kept iguanas for many years. I think they make wonderful pets, and I love sharing my life with them. I have two new ones now, a large one and a little one, and many thanks to Sam of Backwater Reptiles for helping me keep them alive and healthy while I relearned what I’d forgotten about these sweet and beautiful creatures. My two are captive bred, not wild, and even the dogs and the cats like them.

I hope you enjoy Hayes and Minette as they come face-to-face with danger, and each other, in a wild and tumultuous way. I have enjoyed every minute of the writing of this book.

Barb, you got left out of the last dedication so you’re getting in the reader letter here. Ha! And to my guildies on WOW in Knight Owls of Wow and Honor and Duty, and Ice Dragons on Star Wars: TOR, my thanks for letting me be in your guilds and missing events because I was writing.

I also want to say that I am more grateful to all of you who read me than you will ever know, for your loyalty and your kindness and your continued friendship, over all the long years. You are the reason I keep writing. Thank you for being my friends.

Many hugs, much love, from your biggest fan,

Diana Palmer


For my cousin Linda, with much love


Contents

Chapter 1 (#uf85c5736-cef6-5c8d-92da-cb39557121cc)

Chapter 2 (#uc5f14af3-ac72-50dc-8bae-9715ed395b54)

Chapter 3 (#u28c898c0-4c14-5f9f-a5d8-16c79d5eabf2)

Chapter 4 (#u1f94f35d-5cd1-5bcc-9c3d-11d3a519a914)

Chapter 5 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 6 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 7 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 8 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 9 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter 1

Sheriff Hayes Carson hated Sundays. It was nothing against religion, or church or anything spiritual. He hated Sundays because he always spent them alone. He didn’t have a girlfriend. He’d dated a couple of women around Jacobsville, Texas, but those dates had been few and far between. He hadn’t had a serious relationship since he was just out of the military, when he got engaged to a woman who tossed him over for somebody richer. Well, he had dated Ivy Conley before she married his best friend, Stuart York. He’d had feelings for her, too, but it was not returned on her part.

Besides, he thought ruefully, there was Andy. His scaly pet kept him unattached.

That wasn’t strictly true, he mused. The reason for the dearth of women in his life was mostly his job. He’d been shot twice since he became sheriff, and he’d been sheriff for seven years. He was good at his job. He was reelected without even a runoff. No criminal had ever escaped him. Well, one had—that man they called El Jefe, the biggest drug lord in northern Sonora, Mexico, who had a network that ran right through Jacobs County. But he was going to land El Jefe one day, he promised himself. He hated drug dealers. His own brother, Bobby, had died of an overdose years ago.

He still blamed Minette Raynor for that. Oh, sure, people said she was innocent and that it was Ivy Conley’s sister, Rachel, who’d been killed a year or so ago, who gave Bobby the fatal dose. But Hayes knew that Minette was connected to the tragedy. He really hated her and made no secret of it. He knew something about her that she wasn’t even aware of. He’d kept the secret all his adult life. He wanted to tell her. But he’d promised his father not to reveal the truth.

Hell, he thought, sipping Jack Daniel’s, he wished he could get rid of that inconvenient conscience that wouldn’t let him break his promises. It would save him a lot of grief.

He put the big square whiskey glass down beside his rocking chair, his long legs crossed as he stared out across the bare, rusty-colored meadow to the highway. It was chilly outside most days. Middle November brought frost even to Texas, but it had warmed up a bit today. He’d had supper, so the alcohol wouldn’t affect him very much, except to relax him. He was enjoying the late-afternoon sun. He wished he had someone to share that sunset with. He hated being alone all the time.

Part of the reason for his solitude was sitting on the sofa in his living room, in front of the television. He sighed. His scaly best friend terrorized women. He’d tried to keep Andy secret, even putting him in the spare bedroom on the rare occasions when he brought a date home to ride horses. But inevitably, Andy finally got out when he least expected it. On one occasion while he was making coffee in the spotless kitchen, his pet was sneaking over the back of the sofa where the unsuspecting woman was sitting.

The screams were really terrifying. He dropped the coffeepot in his haste to get to the next room. She was standing up on the sofa, brandishing a lamp at the six-foot iguana who was arched on its back, glaring at her.

“It’s okay, he’s harmless!” he said at once.

That was when his pet decided to drop his dewlap, hiss and strike at her with his long whiplike tail. She actually sprained her ankle jumping off the sofa. The big iguana was ten years old and he didn’t like people very much. And he really hated women. Hayes had never figured out why. Andy mostly stayed on top of the refrigerator or under the heat lamp atop his enormous cage, and ate the fresh fruit and salad that Hayes fixed for him every day. He never bothered anybody. He seemed to like Hayes’s best friend, Stuart York. He’d even let himself be carried around and petted by total strangers; as long as they were male.

But let a woman walk through the door...

Hayes leaned back with a long indrawn breath. He couldn’t give Andy up. It would be like giving away part of his family. And he didn’t have any family left. He had a few very distant cousins, like MacCreedy, who had become a local legend in law enforcement for leading funeral processions into bogs before he went to work in San Antonio as a security guard. But Hayes had no close relatives living. His only great-uncle had died three years before.

He glanced through the window at the sofa, where Andy was spread out with the television blaring away. It amused him that his pet liked to watch television. Or at least, it seemed that way. He kept a nice thick waterproof sofa cover on the furniture, in case of accidents. Oddly, Andy never had any. He was house-trained. He went on a small stack of wet papers in a litter box in Hayes’s huge bathroom. And he came when Hayes whistled. Odd fellow, Andy.

Hayes smiled to himself. At least he had something living to talk to.

He stared off into the distance. He saw a flash of silver. Probably sunlight reflecting off the wire fence out there, keeping in his small herd of palominos. He had a big cattle dog, Rex, who lived outdoors and kept predators away from the equally small herd of Santa Gertrudis cattle Hayes owned. He didn’t have time for a big ranch, but he liked raising animals.

He heard Rex bark in the distance. Must see a rabbit, he thought idly. He glanced down at the empty whiskey glass and grimaced. He shouldn’t be drinking on a Sunday. His mother wouldn’t have approved. He made a face. His mother hadn’t approved of anything about him. She’d hated his father and hated Hayes because he looked like his father. She’d been tall and blonde and dark-eyed. Like Minette Raynor.

His face contorted as he processed the thought. Minette was editor-publisher of the weekly Jacobsville Times. She lived with her great-aunt and two children, her brother and sister. She never spoke of her biological father. Hayes was sure that she didn’t know who her father really was. She knew her late stepfather wasn’t her real dad. Hayes knew about her real father because Dallas, his late father and also the former Jacobs County sheriff, knew. Dallas had made Hayes swear he’d never tell Minette. It wasn’t her fault, he emphasized. She’d had enough grief for one lifetime, without knowing the truth about her father. Her mother had been a good woman. She’d never been mixed up in anything illegal, either. Let it go.

So Hayes had let it go, but reluctantly. He couldn’t disguise his distaste for Minette, however. In his mind, her family had killed his brother, whether or not it was her hand that had delivered the lethal drug that he died from.

He stretched suddenly, yawning, and suddenly bent over to pick up his glass. Something hit his shoulder and spun him around in the chair, throwing him to the bare wood floor of the porch. He lay there, gasping like a fish, numb from a blow he hadn’t seen coming.

It took a minute for him to figure out that he’d been shot. He knew the sensation. It wasn’t the first time. He tried to move, and realized that he couldn’t get up. He was struggling to breathe. There was the copper-scented smell of fresh blood. He was bleeding. It felt as if his lung, or part of it, had collapsed.

He struggled with the case at his belt to retrieve his cell phone. Thank God he kept it charged, in case any emergency required his presence. He punched the code for 911.

“Jacobs County 911, is this an emergency?” the operator asked at once.

“Shot,” he gasped.

“Excuse me?” There was a pause. “Sheriff Carson, is that you?”

“Ye...s.”

“Where are you?” she asked urgently, knowing that it could take precious time to seek out a cell tower near the call and identify his possible location. “Can you tell me?”

“Home,” he bit off. The world was fading in and out. He heard her voice coaxing him to stay on the line, to talk to her. But he closed his eyes on a sudden wave of pain and nausea and the phone fell from his limp hand.

* * *

Hayes came to in the hospital. Dr. Copper Coltrain was bending over him, in a green gown, with a mask pulled down around his chin.

“Hi,” he said. “Good to have you back with us.”

Hayes blinked. “I was shot.”

“Yes, for the third time,” Coltrain mused. “I’ve heard of lead poisoning, but this is getting absurd.”

“How am I?” Hayes managed in a raspy tone.

“You’ll live,” Coltrain replied. “The wound is in your shoulder, but it impacted your left lung, as well. We had to remove a bit of your lung and we’re inflating it now.” He indicated a tube coming out of Hayes’s side under the light sheet. “We removed bone fragments and debrided the tissue, now you’re on fluids and antibiotics, anti-inflammatories and pain meds, for the time being.”

“When can I go home?” Hayes asked groggily.

“Funny man. Let’s talk about that when you’re not just out of surgery and in the recovery room.”

Hayes made a face. “Somebody’s got to feed Andy. He’ll be scared to death out there alone.”

“We have somebody feeding Andy,” Coltrain replied.

“Rex, too, he lives in the barn...”

“Taken care of.”

“The key...”

“...was on your key ring. Everything’s fine, except for you.”

Hayes assumed it was one of his deputies who was helping out, so he didn’t argue. He closed his eyes. “I feel awful.”

“Well, of course you do,” Coltrain sympathized. “You’ve been shot.”

“I noticed.”

“We’re going to keep you in ICU for a day or so, until you’re a bit better, then we’ll move you into a room. For now, you just sleep and don’t worry about anything. Okay?”

Hayes managed a wan smile, but his eyes didn’t open. A few seconds later, he was asleep.

* * *

A nurse was bending over him in ICU when he woke again, taking his blood pressure, checking his temperature, pulse and respiration.

“Hi, there,” she said with a smile. “You’re doing much better this morning,” she added, noting her observations on her chart. “How’s the chest?”

He moved and winced. “Hurts.”

“Does it? We’ll ask Dr. Coltrain to up your meds a bit until that passes. Any other problems?”

He wanted to name at least one, but he was unusually shy about mentioning the catheter.

Nevertheless, the nurse noticed. “It’s just temporary, and it’s coming out tomorrow, Dr. Coltrain said. Try to sleep.” She patted him on the shoulder with a maternal smile and left him.

* * *

They removed the catheter the next day, which embarrassed Hayes and caused him to mutter under his breath. But he went back to sleep very soon.

Later, when Dr. Coltrain came in, he was barely awake again. “I hurt in an unmentionable place and it’s your fault,” Hayes muttered at Coltrain.

“Sorry, it was unavoidable. The catheter’s out now, and you won’t have discomfort for much longer, I promise.” He listened to Hayes’s chest and frowned. “There’s a lot of congestion.”

“It’s unpleasant.”

“I’m going to write up something to clear that out.”

“I want to go home.”

Coltrain looked very uncomfortable. “There’s a problem.”

“What?”

He sat down in the chair beside the bed and crossed his legs. “Okay, let’s review the mechanics of gunshot injuries. First is the direct tissue injury. Second, temporary cavitation as the projectile makes a path through the tissue and causes necrosis. Third, shock waves if the projectile is ejected at a high rate of speed. You are the luckiest man I know, because the only major damage the bullet did was to your lung. However,” he added quietly, “the damage is such that you’re going to have a hard time using your left arm for a while.”

“Awhile? How long a while?” Hayes asked.

“Micah Steele—remember him?—is our orthopedic surgeon. I called him in on your case. We removed the bone fragments and repaired the muscle damage...”

“What about the bullet?” Hayes interrupted. “Did you get that?”

“No,” Coltrain said. “Removing a bullet is up to the discretion of the surgeon, and I considered it too dangerous to take it out...”

“It’s evidence,” Hayes said as strongly as the weakness would allow. “You have to extract it so that I can use it to prosecute the...” He held his breath. “Guy who shot me!”

“Surgeon’s discretion,” Coltrain repeated. “I won’t risk a patient’s life trying to dig out a bullet that’s basically disinfected itself on the way into the body. I’d do more damage trying to get it out than I would leaving it in.” He held up a hand when Hayes opened his mouth. “I conferred with two other surgeons, one in San Antonio, and they’ll back me up. It was too risky.”

Hayes wanted to argue some more, but he was too tired. It was an old argument, anyway, trying to make a surgeon remove potential evidence from a victim’s body, and it occasionally ended up in a legal battle. Most of the time, the surgeon won. “All right.”

“Back to what I was saying,” he continued, “there was some collateral damage to your left shoulder. You’ll have to have an extended course of physical therapy to keep the muscles from atrophying.”

“Extended?” Hayes asked slowly.

“Probably several months. It depends on how quickly you heal and how fast your recovery is,” Coltrain said. “It’s still going to be a rough ride. You need to know that from the start.”

Hayes looked up at the ceiling. “Crackers and milk!” he muttered.

“You’ll be all right,” Coltrain assured him. “But for the next couple of weeks, you need to keep that arm immobilized and not lift anything heavier than a tissue. I’ll have my receptionist get you an appointment with Dr. Steele and also with the physiotherapist here in the hospital.”

“When can I go home?”

Coltrain stared at him. “Not for several more days. And even then, you can’t go home and stay by yourself. You’ll need someone with you for at least a couple of weeks, to make sure you don’t overdo and have a relapse.”

“A nursemaid? Me?” Hayes frowned. “I was out of the hospital in three or four days the last two times...”

“You had a flesh wound the last time, and the one before that you were only about twenty-seven years old. You’re thirty-four now, Hayes. It takes longer to recover, the older you get.”

Hayes felt worse than ever. “I can’t go home right away.”

“That’s right. You’re going to be extremely limited in what you can do for the next few weeks. You won’t be able to lift much while the damage heals and you’ll find even ordinary movement will aggravate the wound and cause pain. You’re going to need physical therapy three times a week...”

“No!”

“Yes, unless you want to be a one-armed man!” Coltrain said shortly. “Do you want to lose the use of your left arm?”

Hayes glared at him.

Coltrain glared right back.

Hayes backed down. He sank back onto the pillow. His blond-streaked brown hair was disheveled and needed washing. He felt dingy. His dark eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles around them. His lean face was drawn from pain.

“I could get somebody to stay with me,” he said after a minute.

“Name somebody.”

“Mrs. Mallard. She comes to take care of the house three days a week anyway.”

“Mrs. Mallard’s sister had a heart attack. She’s gone to Dallas. I’ll bet she phoned to tell you, but you never check your telephone messages at home,” Coltrain said with some amusement.

Hayes was disconcerted. “She’s a good woman. I hope her sister does well.” He pursed his lips. “Well, there’s Miss Bailey,” he began, naming a local woman who made her living from staying with recuperating patients. She was a retired practical nurse.

“Miss Bailey is terrified of reptiles,” he pointed out.

“Blanche Mallory,” he suggested, naming another elderly lady who sat with patients.

“Terrified of reptiles.”

“Damn!”

“I even asked old Mrs. Brewer for you,” Coltrain said heavily. “She said she wasn’t staying in any house with a dinosaur.”

“Andy’s an iguana. He’s a vegetarian. He doesn’t eat people!”

“There’s a young lady you dated once who might dispute that,” Coltrain said with a smile and twinkling eyes.

“It was self-defense. She tried to hit him with a lamp,” Hayes muttered.

“I recall treating her for a sprained ankle, at your expense,” the other man returned.

Hayes sighed. “Okay. Maybe one of my deputies could be persuaded,” he relented.

“Nope. I asked them, too.”

He glowered at Coltrain. “They like me.”

“Yes, they do,” he agreed. “But they’re all married with young families. Well, Zack Tallman isn’t, but he’s not staying with you, either. He says he needs to be able to concentrate while he’s working on your case. He doesn’t like cartoon movies,” he added, tongue-in-cheek.

“Animation bigot,” Hayes muttered.

“Of course, there’s MacCreedy...”

“No. Never! Don’t even speak his name, he might turn up here!” Hayes said with real feeling.

“He’s your cousin and he likes you.”

“Very distant cousin, and we’re not talking about him.”

“Okay. Suit yourself.”

“So I’m going to be stuck here until I get well?” Hayes asked miserably.

“Afraid we don’t have space to keep you,” Coltrain replied. “Not to mention the size of the hospital bill you’d be facing, and the county isn’t likely to want to pick it up.”

Hayes scowled. “I could pick it up myself,” Hayes said curtly. “I may not look like it, but I’m fairly well-to-do. I work in law enforcement because I want to, not because I have to.” He paused. “What’s going on with finding out who shot me?” he asked suddenly. “Have they come up with anything?”

“Your chief deputy is on the case, along with Yancy, your investigator. They found a shell casing.”

“Nice work,” Hayes commented.

“It was. Yancy used a laser pointer, extrapolated from where you were sitting and the angle of the wound, and traced it to the edge of the pasture, under a mesquite tree. He found footprints, a full metal jacketed shell from an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle and a cigarette butt.”

“I’ll promote him.”

Coltrain chuckled.

“I’ll call Cash Grier. Nobody knows more about sniping than the police chief. He used to do it for a living.”

“Good idea,” Coltrain added.

“Look, I can’t stay here and I can’t go home, so what am I going to do?” Hayes asked miserably.

“You won’t like the only solution I could come up with.”

“If it gets me out of the hospital, I’ll love it. Tell me,” Hayes promised.

Coltrain stood and backed up a step. “Minette Raynor says you can stay with them until you’re healed.”

“Never!” Hayes burst out. “I’d live in a hollow log with a rattler, sooner than do that! Why would she even volunteer in the first place? She knows I hate her guts!”

“She felt sorry for you when Lou mentioned we couldn’t find anybody who was willing to stay in your house,” Coltrain replied. Lou was short for Louise, his wife, who was also a doctor.

“Sorry for me. Huh!” he scoffed.

“Her little brother and sister like you.”

He shifted. “I like them, too. They’re nice kids. We have candy to give away at the sheriff’s office on Halloween. She always brings them by.”

“It’s up to you, of course,” Coltrain continued. “But you’re going to have a lot of trouble getting me to sign a release form if you try to go home. You’ll end up back here in two days, from overdoing, I guarantee it.”

Hayes hated the idea. He hated Minette. But he hated the hospital more. Minette’s great-aunt Sarah lived with her. He figured Sarah would be looking after him, especially since Minette was at the newspaper office all day every day. And at night he could go to bed early. Very early. It wasn’t a great solution, but he could live with it if he had to.

“I guess I could stand it for a little while,” he said finally.

Coltrain beamed. “Good man. I’m proud of you for putting aside your prejudices.”

“They aren’t put away. They’re just suppressed.”

The other man shrugged.

“When can I leave?” Hayes asked.

“If you’re good, and you continue to improve, maybe Friday.”

“Friday.” Hayes brightened a little. “Okay. I’ll be good.”

* * *

He was. Sort of. He complained for the rest of the week about being awakened to have a bath, because it wasn’t a real bath. He complained because the television set in his room didn’t work properly and he couldn’t get the History Channel and the International History Channel, which appealed to the military historian in him. He didn’t like the cartoon channel because it didn’t carry the cartoon movies he was partial to. He complained about having gelatin with every meal and the tiniest cup of ice cream he’d ever seen in his life for dessert.

“I hate hospital food,” he complained to Coltrain.

“We’re getting in a French chef next week,” the doctor said wryly.

“Right, and I’m going to be named King of England the following one.”

Coltrain sighed. He looked at the chart. “Well, the way you’re improving, I plan to release you in the morning. Minette’s coming to get you, bring you back to her place and then go on her way to the office.”

His heart soared. “I can get out?”

Coltrain nodded. “You can get out. And Minette and her great-aunt are wonderful cooks. You won’t have cause for complaint over there.”

Hayes hesitated and avoided the doctor’s eyes. “I guess it was a kindness on Minette’s part to have me stay with her. Especially knowing how I feel about her.”

Coltrain moved a little closer to the bed. “Hayes, she never had anything to do with Bobby, except that an older girl at her school was friendly with her and dated Bobby. But she wasn’t in their circle of friends, you see? Besides that, she’s one of the few people I know who never even tried marijuana. She has nothing to do with drugs.”

“Her family...” Hayes began hotly.

Coltrain held up a hand. “We’ve never spoken of that, and we shouldn’t, even now. Minette doesn’t know. You promised your father that you’d never tell her. You have to keep that promise.”

Hayes took a steadying breath. “It’s hard.”

“Life is hard. Get used to it,” Coltrain told him.

“I’m doing that. This is my third gunshot wound,” Hayes pointed out.

Coltrain cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “You know, that’s either damned bad luck or a death wish on your part.”

“I don’t have a death wish!”

“You walk headfirst into dangerous situations, without any thought of letting your men help.”

“They all have families. Young families.”

“Zack doesn’t. But if it worries you, hire some more single deputies,” Coltrain said curtly. “Some men with guts and independent thinking who know the ropes and can calculate the risk.”

“Chance would be a fine thing,” he huffed. “The last deputy I hired was from up in San Antonio. He commutes. We don’t have a big employment pool here. Most of the young men move to the city to find work, and law enforcement is notoriously low-paying, considering where we are. If it was my only source of income, I’d be hard-pressed to pay the bills, even on my salary.”

“I know all that.”

“The family men needed jobs desperately,” he added quietly. “This economy is the worst I’ve ever experienced in my life.”

“Tell me about it. Even physicians are feeling the bite. And it’s bad for our patients, many of whom won’t come in for early treatment because they don’t have insurance to pay for it. So they wait until conditions are life-threatening. It breaks my heart.”

“Too true.” Hayes leaned back on the pillows. “Thanks for letting me out.”

Coltrain shrugged. “What are friends for?” He looked at the chart. “I’m giving you prescriptions to carry with you, and I’ve made an appointment with the physical therapist who’s in a group that practices here. You’ll need to go three times a week. Don’t argue,” he said when Hayes started to protest. “If you want to ever be able to use that arm again, you’ll do what I say.”

Hayes glared at him. After a minute he sighed. “All right.”

“It’s not so bad. You’ll learn how to exercise the arm, and they’ll do heat treatments. Those feel good.”

Hayes shrugged, wincing at the brief pain.

“Isn’t that drip working?” Coltrain put down the clipboard and fiddled with the drip. “It’s clogged.” He called a nurse and indicated the drip. She grimaced and quickly fixed it.

“Sorry, Doctor,” she said quietly. “I should have checked it earlier. It’s just, we’re so busy and there are so few of us...”

“Budget cuts,” Coltrain nodded, sighing. “Just be more careful,” he said gently.

She smiled faintly. “Yes, sir.”

She left and Coltrain shook his head. “We have our own staffing problems, as you can see. I’ll have that drip removed later and we’ll give you a patch for the pain meds.”

“Modern technology,” Carson chuckled.

“Yes. Some of the new stuff is amazing. I spend an hour on the internet every once in a while researching the new techniques they’re experimenting with. I wish I was twenty years younger, so that I could be learning this stuff at medical school. What a future physicians can look forward to now!”

“I’ve read about some of it. You’re right. It is amazing.” He was feeling suddenly sleepy.

“Get some rest,” Coltrain said. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

Hayes nodded. “Thanks, Copper,” he said, using Coltrain’s nickname.

“My pleasure.”

Seconds later, he was asleep.

* * *

The next morning, everything was suddenly bustling. The nurses got him bathed, if you could call a tub bath bathed, and ready to check out by eleven o’clock.

Coltrain came by with the prescriptions and releases. “Now if you have any trouble, any trouble at all, you call me. I don’t care what time it is. Any redness, inflammation, that sort of thing.”

Hayes nodded. “Red streaks running up my arm...” he teased.

Coltrain made a face. “Gangrene isn’t likely.”

“Well, you never know,” Hayes chuckled.

“I’m glad to see you feeling better.”

“Thanks for helping to get me that way.”

“That’s my job,” Coltrain replied with a smile. He glanced toward the door. “Come on in,” he said.

Minette Raynor came into the room. She was tall and willowy, with a curtain of pale gold hair that fell almost to her waist in back, neatly combed and clean. Her eyes were almost black and she had freckles just across the bridge of her nose. Hayes recalled that her mother had been redheaded. Perhaps the freckles were inherited. She had pert little breasts and long, elegant fingers. Didn’t she play piano at church? He couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been in a church in a very long time.

“I’m here to drive you home,” Minette told Hayes quietly. She didn’t smile.

Hayes nodded and looked uncomfortable.

“We’ll get him dressed and a nurse will bring him down to the front door in a wheelchair.”

“I can walk,” Hayes snapped.

“It’s hospital policy,” Coltrain shot back. “You’ll do it.”

Hayes glowered at him, but he didn’t speak.

Minette didn’t speak, either, but she was thinking about the next couple of weeks with pure anguish. She’d felt sorry for Hayes. He had nobody, really, not even cousins who would have taken care of him. There was MacCreedy, but that would be a total disaster. His sweet Mrs. Mallard, who did his housework three days a week, was out of town because her sister was ill. So Minette had offered him room and board until he was healed up.

She was having second thoughts. He looked at her with angry dark eyes that wished her anywhere but here.

“I’ll just wait outside,” Minette said after a minute, one hand on her purse.

“He won’t be long,” Coltrain promised.

She left and went down to the waiting room.

“This is a bad idea,” Hayes gritted as he started to get out of bed and had to hesitate because his head was swimming.

“Don’t fall.” Coltrain helped him up. “You can stay another day or two...”

“I’m fine,” Hayes muttered. “Just fine.”

Coltrain sighed. “All right. If you’re sure.”

Hayes wasn’t sure, but he wanted out of the hospital. Even Minette Raynor’s company was preferable to another day of gelatin and forced baths.

He got into the clothes he’d been wearing when he was shot, grimacing at the blood on the shoulder of his shirt.

“I should have had somebody get fresh clothing for you. Zack Tallman would have brought it over if we’d asked,” Coltrain said apologetically.

“It’s no big deal. I’ll ask Zack to get them for me,” Hayes said, hesitating. “I guess Minette’s afraid of reptiles, too?”

“I’ve never asked,” Coltrain replied.

Hayes sighed. “He’s like a lizardly cow,” he said irritably. “Everybody’s scared of him because of the way he looks, but he’s a vegetarian. He wouldn’t eat meat.”

“He looks scary,” Coltrain reminded him.

“I suppose so. Me and my dinosaur.” That tickled Hayes, and he laughed. “Right. Me and my dinosaur.”

* * *

Once he was dressed, a nurse came in with a wheelchair. Hayes got into it with rare docility and she put his few possessions in his lap, explaining the prescriptions and the care instruction sheets she handed him on the way out the door.

“Don’t forget, physical therapy on Monday, Wednesday and Friday,” she added. “It’s very important.”

“Important.” Hayes nodded. He was already plotting ways to get out of it. But he didn’t tell her that.

* * *

Minette was waiting at the door with her big SUV. It was black with lots of chrome and the wood on the dash was a bright yellow. The seats were tan. It had a CD player and an iPod attachment and automatic everything. There was an entertainment system built in so that the kids could watch DVDs in the backseat. In fact, it was very much like Hayes’s personal car, a new Lincoln. He drove a big pickup truck to work. The Lincoln was for his rare nights out in San Antonio at the opera or the ballet. He’d been missing those because of work pressure. Maybe he’d get to see The Nutcracker next month, at least. It was almost Thanksgiving already.

He noticed the signature trademark on the steering wheel and chuckled. The SUV was a Lincoln. No wonder the dash instruments looked so familiar.

He was strapped in, grimacing because the seat belt hurt.

“Sorry,” Minette said gently, fumbling with the belt to make it less confining.

“It’s all right,” Hayes said through his teeth.

She closed the door, got in under the wheel and pulled out of the hospital parking lot. Hayes was tense at first. He didn’t like being a passenger. But Minette was a good driver. She got him home quickly to the big beautiful white Victorian house that had belonged to her family for three generations. It was surrounded by fenced pastures and a horse grazed, a palomino, all by itself.

“You’ve got a palomino,” he mused. “I have several of my own.”

“Yes, I know.” She flushed a little. She’d seen his and loved the breed. “But, actually, I have six of them. That’s Archibald.”

His pale, thick eyebrows rose. “Archibald?”

She flushed a little. “It’s a long story.”

“I can’t wait to hear it.”


Chapter 2

In another pasture, Hayes noted milling cattle, some of which were black-baldies, a cross between Black Angus and Herefords. Most mixed-breed cattle were popular in beef herds. The Raynor place was a ranch.

Along with the ranch, when her stepmother and stepfather died just a few months apart, she inherited two siblings, Julie and Shane. They weren’t actually related to her, but they were hers as surely as if they’d been blood siblings. She loved them dearly.

The children were school-age now. Julie was in kindergarten and Shane was in grammar school. Minette seemed to take that responsibility very seriously. No one ever heard her complain about the kids being a burden. Of course, they also kept her single, Hayes mused. Most men didn’t want a ready-made family to support.

Minette’s great-aunt, Sarah, a tiny little woman with white hair whom Minette always addressed as “Aunt” instead of “Great-Aunt,” was waiting on the front porch. She rushed down the steps as Hayes climbed laboriously out of the SUV.

“Here, Hayes, you lean on me,” she said.

Hayes chuckled. “Sarah, you’re too little to support a man my size. But thanks.”

Minette smiled and hugged her aunt. “He’s right. He needs a little more help than you can give.” She got under Hayes’s arm and put her arm around his back. Her hand twitched when she felt a cavity under his shirt.

“It’s another wound,” he said quietly, feeling her consternation. “I’m pockmarked with them. That one was from a shotgun blast a few years back. I didn’t duck fast enough.”

“You’re a walking advertisement for the perils of law enforcement,” she muttered.

He was trying not to notice how nice it felt to have her close to him. They’d been adversaries for years. He’d blamed her for Bobby’s death. He still blamed her family for that, but she didn’t know who she really was. She had illusions, and he was hesitant to shatter them. After all, she’d given him a home when nobody else offered.

“Thanks,” he said stiffly as they went up the steps and into the roomy, high-ceilinged house.

She paused and looked up at him. She was trying not to let him see the effect his nearness had on her. She’d always adored Hayes Carson, who hated her for reasons that were incomprehensible to her.

“For what?” she stammered.

He searched her black eyes far longer than he meant to. He wondered if she ever questioned the color of those eyes. Her mother had had blue eyes. But he wasn’t going to ask.

“For letting me stay here,” he said.

“You’re welcome.” She hesitated. “I’m afraid all the bedrooms are upstairs...”

“I don’t mind.”

She sighed. “Okay.”

Sarah came bustling in behind them and closed the front door. “I changed the bed in the guest room and turned on the heat,” she told Carson. “It’s not the warmest room in the house, I’m afraid,” she added apologetically.

“Not to worry. I like a cool bedroom.”

“We need to get some fresh clothing for you,” Minette said, appalled by the gunshot wound in the fabric of the shirt he was wearing, and the blood on it.

“I’ll call Zack and have him bring some over,” he said, naming his chief deputy. “He’s been feeding Andy and Rex for me.”

“Okay.”

She helped him into the guest bedroom. It was decorated in shades of blue, brown and beige. The walls were an eggshell-blue, the coverlet was quilted and included browns and blues. The carpet was a soft beige. The curtains matched the coverlet. The windows, two of them, overlooked the pasture where the palomino was grazing.

“This is very nice,” Hayes remarked.

“I’m glad you like it,” Minette said gently. “You should call Zack.”

He nodded. “I’ll do that right now.” He eased onto the coverlet and laid back on the pillow, shivering a little from the exertion and the pain and the weakness that was still making him uncomfortable. “That feels so good.”

Minette hovered. He was pale and he looked terrible. “Can we get you anything?”

He looked at her hopefully. “Coffee?”

She laughed. “They wouldn’t give it to you in the hospital, I gather.”

“They did give me a little hot brown water this morning. They called it coffee,” he scoffed.

“I make very good coffee,” she said. “I have a machine that uses pods, and I get the latte pods from Germany. It’s almost sinfully good.”

He laughed. “Sounds great.”

“I’ll make you a cup before I leave.” She checked her watch and grimaced. “I need to call and let Bill know I’m going to be later than I expected. It’s okay,” she added when Hayes looked guilty, “he can handle the office. We go to press on Tuesdays, but today is hectic, because the weekend is coming up.”

“I see.”

“I won’t be a minute.”

She went back downstairs, with Sarah trailing her. Hayes dug his cell phone out of his pocket and called Zack.

“Hey,” he said. “I escaped.”

Zack chuckled. “Way to go, boss. Are you at home?”

“I wish. Coltrain won’t let me live by myself. I’m staying with...Minette and her family,” he said, almost choking the words out.

“Well!”

Hayes shifted uncomfortably. The stress of riding in the confinement of the seat belt was giving him some problems with his injured chest and shoulder. “I need some fresh clothes. I had to come here in the shirt with the bullet hole.”

“Just tell me what you need. I’ll bring it over.”

Hayes gave him quite a list, including pajamas and robe and slippers. He noticed that his room had not only a television, but a Blu-ray player. “And bring my new movies over,” he added. “I’ll watch them while I’m bedridden.”

“Where are they?”

“On the shelf next to the DVD player.”

“Okay.”

“Who shot me?” he added curtly.

“We’re working on that,” Zack assured him. “We have a shell casing and a cigarette butt. We think it may be tied to those recent arrests we made.”

“The new Mexican drug cartel mules. Their bosses are fighting a turf war across the border in Cotillo. Its mayor owes his soul to Pedro Mendez, who took over the operation that used to belong to the Fuentes brothers bunch,” Hayes added quietly.

“Yes, Mendez is the one his enemies call El Ladrón, the thief,” Zack agreed.

“Mendez has a bitter enemy in El Jefe, Diego Sanchez, who has an even bigger drug cartel. Sanchez wants the Cotillo stronghold for himself. It’s the easiest path to Texas, through mountains where a sidewinder could get lost.” Hayes sighed. “Two of the most evil men on the planet. God knows how many lives they’ve snuffed out.” He didn’t add that his own brother was one of those. He’d never shared what he knew with another living soul. Only Coltrain knew, but he had the information from Hayes’s late father, not Hayes.

“Hey, at least El Jefe takes care of his people, and he draws the line at killing women and children,” Zack reminded him.

“Drugs kill women and children.”

“That’s true, I guess,” Zack said. “I meant, he didn’t carry out vendettas against them. But even Manuel Lopez who used to own the drug trade in these parts never hurt children. God knows, he killed enough grown-ups to make up for it before Micah Steele took him out. Not that I know anything about that. Honest. Cross my heart.”

Hayes just smiled. “It’s an open secret locally, no worries. Maybe El Jefe does have a saving grace or two, but I’d gun him down in a heartbeat if I wasn’t sworn to uphold the law.”

Zack felt the undercurrents in Hayes’s voice, so he didn’t ask questions. His boss was closemouthed about some things.

“I imagine one of our drug-distribution czars ordered the hit on me. They don’t like local law enforcement interfering with the transport of their product, and they make a public statement with assassinations. But can we prove they tried to kill me?”

Zack chuckled. “The mule who threatened you is in custody in our county detention center. So isn’t it a good thing that we keep surveillance devices there?” he mused. “He made a phone call from the facility. We got it on tape, and traced the number. Sadly, it was a throwaway phone. Or that’s what we think. The number is no longer in service.”

“Damn.”

“Not to worry, I’ve got Yancy on it. He’ll go through every scrap of paper, every cigarette butt, every blade of grass on your property to dig the shooter out. Never saw a guy with such an eye for detail.”

“Me, neither,” Hayes agreed. “He’s good.” Hayes sighed. “I wish we had the bullet. It might give us an even better lead. But Coltrain wouldn’t take it out.”

“I’ve seen lawmen get court orders for bullets to be removed for evidence,” Zack replied.

“So have I, but I don’t know anybody who’s ever forced Coltrain to do anything he didn’t want to do. Besides that, he said it was a greater risk to take it out than leave it in.” He frowned. “Pity they can’t do an invasive scan on me and check out the bullet.”

“There’s a thought.”

Hayes moved and winced, because it hurt. He drew in a long breath. The new antibiotic seemed to be working already. Maybe it was wishful thinking. It still hurt to breathe, but he had to get up and move around, to prevent the development of a bad bronchitis, or even pneumonia.

“Anyway, we’re working on your case, along with the other thirty that are current,” Zack added drily. “Of course, you’re the only shooting victim so far.”

“Good enough. If I could get the county commission to listen to me, I’d give you all raises.”

“We know that, boss. None of us got into law enforcement because of the money.”

Hayes chuckled. “Thanks, Zack.”

“I’ll be over with the clothes in about an hour. That okay?”

“That’s fine.”

When he hung up, Minette brought him a big mug of freshly brewed coffee. She handed it to him gently.

“Taste that,” she said with a grin.

He did. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh, my gosh,” he groaned. “I’ve never tasted anything so sweet!”

“Told you so.” She checked her watch. “I have to go. Is there anything special you’d like for supper?”

He hesitated.

“Come on. We don’t live on a budget here. Not yet, anyway,” she chuckled.

“Cube steak with onions, mashed potatoes, green beans.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“I’m a meat and potatoes man,” he confided. “Any variation is a happy one.”

“I can handle that. Dessert?”

He swallowed. “Anything but gelatin.”

She burst out laughing. “Okay. I’ll get Aunt Sarah to make one of her chocolate pound cakes.”

“My favorite kind.”

She smiled. “Mine, too. Well, gotta go.”

“Minette.”

She stopped at the door and turned. Hearing her name in Hayes’s deep, smooth voice made her toes tingle and she had to hide it. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

He looked very somber. She just nodded and left as quickly as she could. Maybe, she thought hopefully, maybe she could change Hayes’s mind about her after all. She was going to work on that, hard.

* * *

Zack Tallman was lean, tall, olive-skinned and black-eyed. He had Spanish blood, but he never spoke about his ancestry. He was thirty years old, and one of the best deputies Hayes had ever hired.

He came into the bedroom carrying a huge suitcase. He put it down on a straight chair by Hayes’s bed. “I think that’s everything you asked for.” He opened it.

With some difficulty, Hayes got out of bed and looked into the suitcase. “Yep,” he said, smiling as he pulled out the videos. “That’s everything.”

“You and your cartoon movies,” Zack sighed.

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with cartoons,” Hayes said defensively. He pulled out pajamas and underwear and a robe and slippers. “I want a shower, but I have trouble standing. You feel like helping me?”

“No problem, boss,” Zack chuckled. “You’d do the same for me.”

“In a heartbeat,” he replied. He managed a smile. “Thanks. I feel dingy.”

“No doubt.”

* * *

Zack helped him into the shower and stood outside the cubicle while Hayes managed to bathe himself and even shampoo his hair, one-handed of course. Minette had even thought of toiletries to put in the bathroom, because the brands were masculine. There was a razor on the sink, and when he was dried and dressed, with a little help from Zack, he even managed to shave.

“I think I’ll live,” he told the other man as he sank onto the bed under the covers. “Thanks a million, Zack.”

“You’re welcome. Need anything else?”

“Yes. Get out there with Yancy and find the guy who shot me,” Hayes replied.

Zack saluted. “On my way.”

“Keep me posted,” Hayes reminded him.

“You know I will.”

“And can you keep feeding Andy and Rex for me?” he asked hesitantly.

“You bet.”

“If you run out of fruit and veggies for Andy...”

“You had more than enough money in the cookie jar to take care of that,” Zack assured him. It was where Hayes kept his spare change, and over months of use, it added up to a tidy little sum.

Hayes laughed. “And people say spare change is useless.”

“Useless, my left foot,” Zack replied. “I’m saving up mine for a trip to Tahiti.” He frowned. “I figure by the time I’m seventy-two, I’ll have just enough.”

“Good grief.”

Zack grinned. “Just kidding. I don’t even like islands. You get better, boss. I’ll take care of Andy, no worries.”

“When the cookie jar gets empty...”

“You’ll be home by then. I guarantee it. Nice of Minette to let you stay here,” he added.

“Yes. Very nice.”

“She’s such an odd bird,” Zack mused. “Never dates anybody. Her whole life is those two little kids and her job. I guess they’d make it hard to have a serious relationship,” he said. “Most men don’t want somebody else’s kids.”

“I guess not.” Hayes had already thought about that.

“Still, she’s a dish,” Zack added wistfully. “Pretty and smart and brave. Imagine, taking on a drug cartel after those guys killed a whole newspaper staff over the border a year or so ago for writing bad things about them.”

“She takes chances,” Hayes agreed.

“Unwise. But brave.”

“Very.”

* * *

Hayes spent the day watching movies. Sarah came in with a light lunch, homemade roast beef sandwiches and hot coffee. Afterward, she brought him a slice of chocolate pound cake.

“You’ll never get rid of me if you keep feeding me like this,” Hayes said as he bit into the perfect cake. “You’re a wonderful cook.”

“It’s our pleasure to help out,” Sarah said.

He finished the cake and coffee and she started to remove the dishes.

“Why did Minette offer to let me stay here?” he asked suddenly.

Sarah hesitated.

“Tell me.”

She bit her lower lip. “Well, it bothered her that nobody would stay with you at home,” she began. “And she knew you hated being in the hospital. She said...”

“She said what?” Hayes persisted.

She grinned suddenly. “Do you know the passage in the Bible about heaping coals of fire on an enemy’s head by being kind to him?”

He burst out laughing.

“Well, it’s sort of like that,” she added.

He shook his head. “At least I understand it now.”

“She never gave drugs to anybody, Hayes,” Sarah said softly. “She never even smoked marijuana when she was in high school. Her mother was a fanatic about drugs. She wouldn’t even take an aspirin tablet for a headache and she put that attitude into Minette. Never understood why,” she said on a sigh. “She was a curious woman. But I loved her dearly.”

“Did Minette’s father use drugs?” he wondered, averting his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know. I never actually met her father.” She flushed. “I mean, the man my niece, Faye, married—Minette’s stepfather—didn’t use them, ever.”

He was shocked. He hadn’t been aware that Sarah knew Minette’s stepfather wasn’t her biological father. He frowned. “Then you don’t know what her real father looked like?”

“Not really. My niece didn’t speak of him,” she said. “I wonder if he had brown eyes, though. It amazed me that my niece produced a girl with Minette’s coloring. Nobody in our whole family for generations ever had black eyes. They were always blue.”

Hayes didn’t look at her. “Genetics are odd.”

“I’ll say!” She lowered her voice. “You know, Minette’s mother married her stepfather when she was about six months pregnant. It was such a scandal!”

Hayes bit his lip. “Was it?”

“Yes! She said her new husband didn’t mind about the pregnancy, though, he loved children. They even told Minette, when she was ten, that Stan loved her very much but that he was her stepfather. I wondered if she ever really understood that. She never speaks of it, even to me.” She picked up the cup and saucer and fork, looking thoughtful. “Still, as you say, genetics are very odd. If you need anything, you use that,” she indicated the speakerphone beside the bed on the table. “And I’ll be right up.”

“Thanks, Sarah.”

She smiled. “You’re very welcome.” She hesitated at the door. “You won’t mention to Minette, that I said anything about her mother?” she worried.

“Of course I won’t,” he assured her. “Not a word.”

She nodded. “Thanks. She’s sensitive on the subject.”

He watched her go out the door with mingled emotions. So Sarah didn’t speak to Minette about her real father. Curious. They seemed close. But, then, you never knew really went on in families.

* * *

Minette showed up just after lunch with Shane and Julie, her little brother and sister, in tow. They ran into the room where Hayes was and jumped into bed with him, shoes and all. Shane was bigger than Julie, a rough and tumble eleven-year-old who loved wrestling and never missed a match that featured his favorites.

“No, kids, calm down! He’s been injured!” Minette said frantically. “And we don’t climb on beds with shoes on!”

“Sorry, Minette,” Julie said, pulling off her shoes and tossing them over the side.

“Me, too,” Shane agreed, doing the same.

They moved closer to Hayes, who was fascinated with their lack of fear. He was a stranger, mostly, whom they hardly knew.

“You’re gonna live with us,” Shane said. “You got shot, yeah?”

He chuckled. “I got shot.”

“What a mean thing to do,” Julie said solemnly. She moved right up to Hayes’s good arm and curled up next to him. “We’ll protect you, Hayes,” she said softly. “We won’t let anybody hurt you ever again.”

Hayes felt tears sting his eyes. He hid them, of course, but the child’s comment touched him as nothing had in years. His profession kept him bereft of visible emotion. He had to keep it in check, because he had to be strong. He’d seen things most people never had to look at. It affected him. Of course it did. So he buried his feelings deeper and deeper over the years, until he hardly felt anything. But he’d been shot and he was still fragile. Julie’s innocent offer to protect him made him melt inside.

“What a sweetheart you are,” Hayes said softly, and brushed back the child’s pretty blond hair.

She grinned at him and cuddled closer.

“Can we look at where you got shot?” Shane asked. “Is it awful?”

Hayes laughed. “Not a good idea. Yes, it is awful.”

“Who shot you?” Shane persisted.

“Someone very mean, and we’ll get him,” Hayes promised.

“You two come on with me. Aunt Sarah has cookies and milk!”

“Cookies and milk! Woohoo!” Shane cheered, bouncing on the bed.

“Stop that and come down here,” Minette said firmly, lifting him off the bed and onto the floor. “Oof, you’re getting heavy!” she exclaimed. “Go get cookies. And I think SpongeBob is on television.”

“Aw, Minette, that’s for little kids like Julie...” Something by the television had caught the boy’s attention. He picked up a DVD case and looked at it. “It’s How to Train Your Dragon!” he exclaimed. “He’s got How to Train Your Dragon!” He looked excitedly through the other cases. “There’s WALL-E and Up and...!”

“Yes, I love cartoons,” Hayes confessed with a faint flush.

“Me, too,” Minette said, smiling. “Those are great movies.”

“Can we come watch them with you after supper?” Shane pleaded. “Please?”

Hayes laughed at Minette’s consternation. “Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

“That’s very nice of you, Hayes,” Julie said in her soft, formal tone. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He started to help her off the bed, but Minette was there first. “No lifting,” she told Hayes. “Copper Coltrain would let surgical interns practice on me if I dared let you pick up something as heavy as Julie.”

“But I’m not heavy, Minette,” Julie protested as she was placed gently on the floor.

“Not to me, precious,” Minette said, hugging her. “But Hayes has been shot. He can’t use his other arm yet.”

“That’s right. I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“Downstairs now, both of you,” Minette told the children.

“Yes, Minette,” Julie said.

They waved at Hayes and ran clamoring down the steps to the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Minette apologized. “They get a little wild.”

“It’s okay,” Hayes said with a genuine smile. “They’re great kids.”

She was impressed. “Thanks.”

“You’ve done very well with them,” he continued. “It must have been difficult.” He spoke as if the words were dragged out of him.

Minette smiled faintly. “It wasn’t as if I had a choice. I couldn’t give them up for adoption or let them be placed in an orphanage. I promised my stepmother I’d take care of them.”

“Your stepmother was a good woman,” Hayes remarked.

She nodded. “She was one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. Always doing good works, taking care of people who needed her. I admired her.” She hesitated. “I loved her.”

“Your...father was kind, too.”

She was hesitant. “He was. He was my stepfather, you know, not my real father. I don’t know who my real father is. Mama never told me.” She moved closer. “But Stan kept secrets.” She frowned. “He said that he knew something that he had to tell me, but he put it off until it was too late. When he was dying, and he lost his voice after the stroke, he even tried to write it down.” She drew in a long breath. “But what he wrote was just gibberish. I’ve wondered about what it could be.” She laughed after a minute. “We don’t have any dark family secrets. It was probably something about the kids that he wanted me to know.”

“Yes.” But Hayes was oddly quiet when he said that.

She stared at him. “Hayes, do you know something about me that you’re not telling?”

His heart jumped. He stared at her intently. He wanted to say something. He really did. But at the last, he recalled his father’s words and the promise he’d been forced to make. When he gave his word, he kept it. Always.

“No,” he lied with a straight face. “No, I do not know anything. Anything at all. Honest.”

She cocked her head. “I read true crime books. I learn a lot from them. Usually when people don’t want to tell the truth, their speech pattern is an indication of that. They speak very formally, without contractions, and they repeat the protest over and above what’s called for.”

Hayes’s high cheekbones actually flushed.

“You do know something,” she guessed. “Is it something terrible? I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to tell me. I’m the enemy, after all, isn’t that right?”

His sensuous lips compressed into a straight line. “If I’m the enemy why are you taking care of me?”

Her heart jumped at the way he said it.

He saw her reaction, and his antagonism took a nosedive. She was very pretty when she was upset. Her face became pink and radiant, her freckles stood out. Her black eyes glittered with true beauty.

“People who keep dinosaurs arouse sympathy?” she asked after a minute.

He burst out laughing. “Andy isn’t a dinosaur.”

“See? When you denied that, you used a contraction.”

“Minette, you can’t learn everything from books,” he pointed out.

“Oh, it’s not just books, I’m all over the internet reading case files,” she replied.

He frowned. “Why aren’t you out dating men?”

“Oh, sure, that’s a great idea,” she mused. She glanced toward the door and hesitated, listening, to make sure the children couldn’t overhear. “So many men want to get serious about a woman with two small dependents. They line up at my door every day.”

“I see.”

“There was one guy, who was visiting his grandmother here. He asked me out in the newspaper office. I was at a loose end and he seemed very nice. He came to pick me up for the date. Julie and Shane were waiting with me at the door.” Her face was sad. “I couldn’t believe he was the same man when we went to dinner. He was stiff, polite, formal, and he rushed through the meal and took me straight home. Before he left, he blurted out that I was a nice woman and he liked me, but he wasn’t going to saddle himself with someone else’s kids. I pointed out that they were my stepfather and stepmother’s kids and he said it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to start out with a ready-made family. He made it quite clear.”

Hayes stared at her intently. “You love those kids.”

“Of course I do. I’ve taken care of them since they were born,” she reminded him, her voice soft and gentle with reminiscence. “My stepmother’s health was precarious at best, and after Shane and Julie were born, it grew quickly worse. I picked up the slack.” She felt tears threaten. “Dawn was one of the kindest people I ever knew. She was very much like what I remember of my mother. I nursed her, right up until the end. I promised her that I’d care for her children as if they were my very own, and I keep my promises.”

“So do I,” Hayes admitted.

“My stepfather had a stroke, and then a heart attack, not too long after Dawn died. He tried so hard to talk to me, to write to me, to make me understand what he wanted to tell me. But I never could. I looked through all their papers, searching for something they’d written down. There was nothing.” She smiled. “Probably it was about the kids.”

Hayes managed to look innocent. “I imagine it was.”

Her eyes narrowed. She was remembering another conversation. “You might tell me one day, huh?” she asked suddenly.

“When pigs fly,” he blurted out.

She moved closer to the bed. “Why won’t you tell me?”

He drew in a ragged breath. “I keep my promises, too.”

“What does that mean?”

Mercifully there was a small riot downstairs, Julie yelling at Shane about a toy.

“You’d better get down there before bloodshed ensues,” Hayes told her, relieved at the interruption.

She threw up her hands and raced down the staircase.


Chapter 3

It was a new experience for Hayes to have children around, especially children who liked him and curled up with him in bed to watch cartoon movies.

Minette was surprised and touched at how quickly the big, taciturn sheriff melted when the kids cuddled with him. Even Shane did it, although he was older and usually standoffish with people he didn’t know. Hayes knew most of the wrestlers by name, which made him Shane’s best friend almost at once. They were trying to talk about their favorites while the movie was on, and Julie kept shushing them. It was amusing to Minette.

They watched the movies, but they were always asking questions. What was that place, who did that, could that happen in real life? It went on and on. He never seemed to mind trying to answer those questions, and he was incredibly patient. Patience was not a word that Minette had ever associated with Hayes Carson. In fact, he was well-known for the opposite.

“Okay, you two, time for bed,” Minette said when the movie finished playing.

“Awwwww,” Shane grumbled.

“Do we have to go now?” Julie protested, clinging to Hayes. “What if Hayes gets sick in the night? Can’t we stay with him?”

Hayes was touched beyond words. He swallowed, hard. “Thanks, Julie,” he said softly, and he smiled.

She grinned at him. “Can you tell us a story?” she asked.

“Yes,” Shane agreed. “We want a story!”

Hayes glanced at Minette, who looked confused and faintly irritated. “I’m sorry, kids,” he said gently, “but most of the stories I know wouldn’t quite suit.”

“Do you shoot bad guys like in the movies?” Shane asked, all eyes.

“Not so much, no,” Hayes replied. “Actually I’m usually the one getting shot,” he added with pursed lips.

“I bet it hurts,” Shane said. “Can’t we see where you got shot?”

“Okay, that’s it, off the bed,” Minette clapped her hands to get them moving.

“I bet it looks awful,” Shane persisted.

“It does,” Hayes said. “And it’s bandaged, you know,” he added, thinking fast. “Dr. Coltrain would be mad at me if I took it off.”

“Good point,” Minette said, looking grateful for his quick thinking. “So that’s that. Bath time.”

“Nooo!” Shane wailed. “I just had a bath yesterday, sis!”

“You’re dirty,” Julie said, wrinkling her nose. “You smell bad, too.”

“Julie,” Minette said, exasperated. “We don’t say things like that, even to family, now do we?”

“No, Minette,” Julie said. She went to her sister and held out her arms. “I’m sorry.”

Minette swept her up and hugged her close, smiling. “It’s okay. But you mustn’t hurt Shane’s feelings. You wouldn’t like it if he said something like that to you. Now would you?”

“No, Minette,” she agreed.

“Aw, she’s a girl,” Shane returned. “Girls are mean.”

“We are not!” Julie said, pouting.

“Baths. Aunt Sarah’s waiting. Julie first.”

“Can I watch wrestling downstairs while Julie bathes?” Shane asked quickly.

“Just for a very few minutes.”

“Okay! Hayes, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow!” He ran out of the room like a small tornado.

Sarah appeared in the doorway, laughing. “Did Shane escape?” she teased.

“He did,” Minette said. She put Julie down. “Go with Aunt Sarah,” she said gently. “Be good.”

“Yes, Minette.” She peered around Aunt Sarah toward Hayes. “I wish we could stay with you, Hayes,” she sighed.

Hayes looked odd as Sarah swept the child out of the room.

Minette let out a breath. “Two of them.” She shook her head. “Some days I wish there were two of me and two of Aunt Sarah, just to cope. I’m sorry if they bothered you...”

“No.” He said it abruptly, and then smiled sheepishly. “No, they didn’t bother me at all. I like kids.”

She stared at him curiously. “You do?”

He nodded. “They’re great.” He smiled. “Shane’s a walking wrestling fact encyclopedia, and Julie has a big heart, for such a little girl.”

“She really does,” Minette agreed. She moved closer to the bed. He looked ragged. “Pain getting worse?”

He glared at her.

She retrieved a medicine bottle from the bookshelf beside the bed, read the label and shook out two pills. She handed them to Hayes, and pushed his soft drink toward him.

He made a face.

“Copper Coltrain said that your body can’t heal if it has to fight the pain at the same time. I’m sure he told you that, too.”

“He did. I just hate pills.” But he swallowed them, and washed them down with the last of his soft drink.

“We’ll bring supper up in a few minutes. It’s nothing fancy, just leftover roast beef and mashed potatoes.”

He looked as if he’d died and gone to paradise. “Homemade mashed potatoes, again?”

“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly. “They don’t take long to fix and they go good with beef. It’s not fancy,” she repeated.

“To a man who lives on takeout and burned eggs and lethal biscuits, it’s a feast,” he replied. “And you have a gift for cooking potatoes,” he added self-consciously.

“Thank you.” She hadn’t considered that he ate much. But she had heard stories of his cooking. None of them were good. “I guess you’re like me,” she replied, moving a little closer to the bed. “I don’t even have time for lunch. I eat it while I’m writing copy or helping make up the paper.”

“I eat in the car most of the time,” he confessed. “I go out with the guys to the steak place or the Chinese place about one day a month.”

She knew, as most people do, that Hayes could afford to eat out every day if he felt like it. But his deputies couldn’t. He wasn’t going to indulge his own appetite and emphasize the difference in his bank account and theirs by flaunting it. She liked him for that. She liked him for a lot of things. Not only was he the handsomest man she knew, he was the bravest.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” he wondered aloud.

“How brave you are,” she blurted out without thinking and then flushed.

His pale eyebrows arched.

“Sorry, thinking aloud,” she replied. “I’ll get the kids put to bed, then I’ll bring up supper.”

“Minette,” he called as she reached the door.

She turned.

He averted his eyes. “I really meant it, when I thanked you. For letting me stay here.”

She wasn’t going to say that she knew he had nobody else to look after him. No close family, no good friends except for Stuart York, who was in Europe with his wife, Ivy. It would have been unkind.

“I know,” she said simply.

She managed a smile as she went out the door.

* * *

Hayes was almost asleep when she came in with a tray. On it was a light supper of beef with gravy and mashed potatoes, with a faintly elaborate fruit salad on the side.

“That’s more trouble than you should have gone to,” he began, propping up on the pillows.

“No trouble at all. I like to try and make food look good.”

“It does.”

She settled the tray on his lap and removed the hot coffee to the side table. “Just so you don’t knock it over,” she explained. “The tray is a little flimsy.”

He smiled. “No problem.”

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said after a minute. “There’s pecan pie for dessert.”

“Wow.”

She laughed. “You really don’t cook, do you?”

He shook his head, his eyes closed on a wave of pleasure as he tasted the perfectly cooked roast beef. “This is delicious.”

She smiled shyly. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’ve never had better food anywhere.”

She laughed again. “Thanks.”

He took a bite of mashed potatoes, perfectly seasoned, and savored them.

“Your investigator wants to come and see you in the morning, to keep you up-to-date on the case,” she said suddenly. “Yancy thinks he may have a lead. I wanted to make sure you were feeling up to it first, though.”

His face became somber. “I’ll be up to it. I want to find out who tried to kill me.”

She nodded. “I don’t blame you for that. Copper said if you hadn’t moved when you did, it would have hit you square in the center of your forehead.”

He was grim. “Yes. That means a professional hitman.”

“That’s what Yancy thinks, too. The shot cartridge was from a sniper rifle, according to Cash Grier.”

“It will be a short list of suspects,” he added quietly. “That sort of talent doesn’t come cheap.”

“I know.”

He had a sudden thought, and he frowned. “Don’t stick your nose in this,” he cautioned. “I don’t want you in the line of fire.”

Her eyes widened.

He glowered at her. “You have two little dependents who need nurturing,” he explained. “They don’t have anybody else.”

“Bull. They have Aunt Sarah. She’d take care of them.”

“Not like you do,” he replied.

She smiled. “It’s one of the biggest stories of the year,” she pointed out. “And I’ve got an exclusive. You can’t leave.”

“Excuse me?”

She lifted an eyebrow. “We’ve got all your clothes in the wash, except the pajamas you’re wearing. Try walking home like that.”

“Walking?”

“Well, I’m not driving you or loaning you a vehicle,” she said matter-of-factly. Her eyes were twinkling. “You’d have to have help to break out of here, and I’ve already threatened everybody who knows you.” She leaned forward. “I know things about all of them and I own a newspaper.”

He burst out laughing. “That’s not fair.”

“Hey, this incredible scoop just landed in my lap and you think I’m going to give it up without a fight?”

“Uh-huh,” he mused. “So that’s why you were so eager to give me a home while I mend.”

“Caught me,” she laughed.

He cocked his blond head and studied her with open curiosity. It sounded good. But he knew better. Minette didn’t have a poker face. At least, not a good one.

She didn’t like that intent stare. It made her uncomfortable. “Stop that,” she muttered.

He smiled at the color in her cheeks. She was pretty when she blushed. “Sorry.”

“I was kidding,” she added after a minute. “You’re the best sheriff we’ve ever had. None of us want to lose you. There were lots of people who offered to take you in, you know. I was just quicker than the rest of them.”

His dark eyes smiled into hers. “Okay. Thanks. And I’ll tell you what I can, when I figure out what’s going on.”

“I know that.”

“But you’re not printing a word until I give you a green light.”

She crossed her heart.

“I mean it.”

She crossed her heart again.

He laughed. “Well, we can argue later. Right now, my excellent mashed potatoes are getting cold.”

“You go right ahead and eat. I’ll go check on the kids. Sarah or I will be back for the tray in a few minutes. Is the pain easing a bit?”

He nodded. “Thanks,” he said stiffly.

“I know you don’t like taking medicine,” she replied. “I know why.”

The truce was over, just that quickly. He saw Bobby’s white, dead face, the track marks down his arms from drug abuse. Bobby had died of an overdose. Minette didn’t know that she was involved in that death. He wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know. But in the end, he heard his father’s voice, and his own promise, and he couldn’t do it.

Minette grimaced. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really, really sorry.”

He averted his eyes. He started eating again and didn’t say another word.

Minette went out and closed the door behind her, gritting her teeth. Of all the stupid, stupid things to say! She could have pinched herself. Just when they were getting along, she had to drag up a bitter memory and hit him in the face with it.

“That’s the way, Minette,” she muttered to herself, “ruin everything, why don’t you?”

Aunt Sarah glanced at her as she came into the kitchen. “Talking to yourself again,” she observed. “Men with nets are lurking.”

She waved her hand. “They’d never catch me. I’d throw down a couple of homemade, buttered rolls and they’d kill themselves fighting over them.”

Sarah laughed with delight. “That’s true enough, sweet,” she agreed. “You really can cook. How’s Hayes?” she added.

“Mad,” Minette sighed, perching against the counter. “I mentioned why he hated drugs and the truce went over the hill.”

Sarah grimaced.

“Me and my big mouth,” Minette said heavily. “I just never know when to keep it shut, do I?”

“He won’t believe the truth, after all this time, will he?” she asked.

Minette shook her head. “I don’t know why he hates me so much.”

Neither did Sarah. But she was older than Minette and she’d heard enough gossip to have a faint idea of what might be the problem. She didn’t have the heart to share that information with Minette, however. Some secrets should never be told.

Minette frowned at the guilty expression on her great-aunt’s face. “What do you know, Aunt Sarah?”

“Me?” Sarah acted for all she was worth. “What do you mean, child?”

The innocent act worked. Minette couldn’t see through it. “Sorry,” she replied. “I’m just edgy.”

“I know.” She was somber. “Somebody wants Hayes dead. I hope they can find out who, before they try again.”

“Yancy Dean is one of the best investigators we’ve ever had,” Minette reminded her. “He came out here from Dade County, Florida, and a Miami cop is no slouch.”

“I agree.”

“Besides, Zack Tallman could dig information out of a dry turnip. The pair of them are almost invincible.”

“I heard something today.”

Minette moved closer. “What?”

“Yancy went to see Cash Grier.”

Minette sat down at the table with the older woman. “I know. He’s trying to find out who the shooter was.”

Sarah leaned forward, as if the walls themselves had ears. “Cash still has contacts in covert ops. He knows where to find out things. If it’s local talent, he’ll ferret it out, Yancy says.”

“Yancy’s sharp.”

“Yes. So is Zack,” Sarah agreed. “You mark my words, it’s this drug cartel that’s responsible. Somehow, Hayes is in the middle of a turf war.”

“He catches crooks. It’s an unpopular profession.”

Sarah nodded. “And he takes chances, honey.”

Minette’s black eyes were sad. “I noticed. This is his third gunshot wound. Sooner or later, he’s going to get one they can’t fix.”

“It’s so odd, too, isn’t it?” Sarah asked, thinking aloud. “I mean, Dallas Carson never got shot even once, and he was sheriff here for twenty years. We’ve never had a police chief take a bullet, either. But Hayes gets hit three times.”

Minette frowned. “Maybe it’s just bad luck.”

“It’s indifference,” Sarah said quietly. “He doesn’t care if he dies.”

Minette’s face went pale. She tried to hide it, but the older woman knew her too well.

Sarah laid a hand over Minette’s. “He’s alone. Well, except for this time, when he needed family around him, and he had nobody. He hasn’t had a family since his father died. He lost his mother when Bobby was in high school, then he lost Bobby. Dallas had a heart attack. So now there’s just Hayes. He has no girlfriend, no close relatives, nobody. It’s almost Thanksgiving, too, which reminds him that he’s all by himself in the world.”

“He’s independently wealthy,” Minette inserted.

“What good is money in the middle of the night when you’re totally alone and nobody cares what happens to you?” Sarah asked gently.

Minette frowned.

“Hayes doesn’t have a reason to care if he lives or dies,” the other woman said in a lowered voice. “He loves his job. Of course he does. But he’s fearless because he has nothing to lose, don’t you see?”

Minette had never understood Hayes’s penchant for walking into the jaws of death. She thought it was just cold courage. But what Sarah said made sense.

“You’ve got me and Shane and Julie,” Sarah persisted. “We’re your family and we love you. Who loves Hayes?”

Minette bit her tongue. She wasn’t going to start making confessions. Not now.

But Sarah knew. She’d always known. She’d seen Minette crying her eyes out when Hayes had carved up her heart with vicious accusations after Bobby’s death. She’d watched Minette go from a bright and bubbly teenager to an old woman in the months after Bobby’s overdose. Hayes had been relentless in pursuit of his brother’s killer, and his trail led straight to Minette.

Sarah had never understood why. Minette wasn’t a drug user. She never put a foot out of line, ever. But somehow Hayes convinced himself that she was the guilty party and treated her accordingly. It was odd that Hayes would end up convalescing here, when he’d made a career of hating Minette.

“Sarah?” Minette interrupted her thoughts.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about how long Hayes has blamed you for something you never even did,” Sarah replied quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yes. So am I. But it won’t do any good. Hayes will never change his mind. He knows that Ivy Conley York’s sister Rachel supplied the drugs that Bobby overdosed on. She even left a confession of sorts when she died. He knows that Brent and Ella Walsh, Keely York’s parents, gave the uncut cocaine to Rachel deliberately for Bobby. But even that hasn’t made a dent in his attitude toward me.” She rested her chin on her propped hands. “Sometimes I think hating me is a habit he doesn’t want to give up. So he finds excuses to justify his dislike.”

“It’s so wrong.”

Minette smiled. “Hayes is stubborn.” She toyed with an orange silk flower in the fall arrangement on the dining room table. “I do wish he’d stop walking into bullets, though. For a mortal enemy, he’s got class.”

Sarah chuckled. “A noble enemy.”

“Absolutely.” She looked at her watch. “Well, I’ve got some research to do on the web, so I’d better get to it. You’ll be all right here with Hayes?” she added, and couldn’t help her worried expression.

“Zack and Yancy will be here in the morning,” Sarah reminded her. “They have guns. Big guns.”

“Hayes has a big gun. It didn’t do him much good on his porch, though, did it?” she asked ruefully.

Sarah had to agree. “Anyway, I keep the doors locked and you will be in the house. We can use the phone to call the sheriff’s office.” Her eyes twinkled. “I hear the sheriff here is very efficient.”

“So are his deputies.” Minette sighed. “What a mess.” She ran her fingers through her long blond hair and grimaced. “I ought to cut my hair,” she muttered. “It takes so much work to keep it clean and brushed!”

“Don’t you dare!” Sarah exclaimed. “It’s so beautiful. How many years would it take for you to grow it that long again?”

Minette grimaced. “A lot, I suppose.” She got up and kissed Sarah’s forehead. “I’m going to the den. Call me if the kids act up. Julie’s having trouble sleeping, again.”

“She’s having some problems at kindergarten,” Sarah said and then bit her lip. “Oh, dear,” she added when she saw her great-niece’s expression. “I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”

Minette sat back down. “What sort of problems?” she asked curtly.

Sarah tried not to tell, but that stare wore her down. “One of the other girls makes fun of her, because she’s slow.”

“She’s slow because she’s methodical when she’s doing things,” Minette said. “I’ll have a talk with Miss Banks.”

“That might be wise. Miss Banks is a nice woman. She taught grammar school for a long time, before she started teaching in kindergarten.”

“I know.” She leaned forward. “She taught me in grammar school!”

Sarah laughed. “Did she? I’d forgotten.”

“I hadn’t. I’ll speak with her tomorrow.”

“Good idea.”

“Poor Julie,” Minette said. “I was picked on in school, too.” She made a face. “There should be a special place in the hereafter just for bullies,” she said darkly.

“Well, a lot of them just need standing up to,” Sarah replied. “Sometimes they have terrible problems of their own and they’re making trouble to call attention to themselves. Others are insecure and shy and don’t know how to interact with other people. And some...”

“...some are just plain mean,” Minette interrupted curtly.

“Well, there’s that, too.” Sarah laughed suddenly.

“What’s funny?”

“I was remembering what you did to your own little problem in middle school,” Sarah said with a twinkle in her eyes. “I believe liver and onions and ketchup and rice were involved...?”

“Well, she shouldn’t have made me mad in the cafeteria at lunch, should she?” Minette chuckled. “Big mistake.”

“Took the wind out of her sails, that did. She was nice to you after you took her down a few inches in front of her girlfriends.”

“She had a mother dying of cancer and her brother had just been arrested for stealing a car,” Minette replied quietly. “I thought she was the nastiest girl I’d ever met. But her father was a drunk and she didn’t have anybody at home who cared about her. She was scared.” She smiled. “I didn’t know all that at the time, of course.”

“How did you find out?”

“She got cancer herself, a few months ago,” Minette replied quietly. “She sent me an email and apologized for how she’d treated me when we were kids. She wanted me to forgive her.” Minette bit her lower lip. “I spent years hating her for what she did.”

“What did you say?”

“Of course I forgave her. She’s on her way to recovery, but it will be a long road.” She smiled sadly. “The things we learn years after it’s too late to do any good.”

“I guess we really never know other people.”

Minette nodded. “And we judge without knowing.”

“Nobody’s perfect.”

“Least of all, me,” Minette said. She got up again. “With that in mind, it might not hurt to find out a little something about Julie’s enemy.”

Sarah smiled. “Nice thought. And if she’s just mean...?”

“Well, then, I’ll talk to her parents, won’t I?” Minette laughed.

Sarah just nodded.

* * *

Minette hadn’t wanted to revisit those old memories, but they were relentless. It was hard being a child. Without maturity and experience, how could the victim of bullying know how to cope? Schools promised aid, but some people were reluctant to involve themselves in situations of conflict.

Minette sat down at her desk and turned on her computer. So often, children never experienced that happy childhood of which so many novels spoke. Probably, she considered, childhood had more relation to the painful world of Charles Dickens than to a happy cartoon movie that always ended well.

Ironically the first news tidbit she pulled up dealt with a child whose relentless persecution had led to suicide. Minette bit her lip. How horrible, to let things get to that point. But many children were reluctant to tell their parents or caregivers about such situations.

Her own ordeal had lasted for two years. She recalled it with bitterness, even on the heels of the apology that had come so unexpectedly. The experience had ruined school for her, despite the kindness of her few friends. She looked back on those so-called carefree days not with joy, but with sadness.

But, she reminded herself, those days were long gone for her. Now, she had to do for Julie what she couldn’t do for herself.

She looked up the contact information for Miss Banks and started composing an email.

* * *

Hayes was sitting up in bed, looking very pale and gaunt when Minette went up to check on him before she took the kids to kindergarten and grammar school, respectively.

“Oh, dear,” she said worriedly.

He grimaced. “I’m okay,” he said. “Just a little dizzy.”

She moved to the bed and touched his forehead. “You’ve got a fever.” She pulled out her cell phone and called Copper Coltrain. She filled him in on Hayes’s condition and Copper said he’d come out to the house as soon as he got his own kids to school.

“Thanks, Copper,” she said.

“All in a day’s work,” he replied. “Lou can fill in for me until I get to the office. Don’t worry about Hayes,” he added. “Sometimes we have these little setbacks. He’ll be fine. I won’t let him die.”

Minette laughed softly. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure.” He hung up.

“No need to look so worried,” Hayes told her when she put the phone away. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know that. But I don’t like losing houseguests.”

He smiled through the discomfort. “I’m not dying. I’m just sick. Damn, it hurts.”

She pulled out the meds and gave him what was prescribed. “Copper’s coming by to see you.”

“He’ll fix me right up.”

She glared at the prescription bottle. “This antibiotic always works for me.”

“I have an odd constitution and I’m funny about drugs,” he said wearily. “Copper will work it out. But thanks for calling him.”

“Sure. I’ll check back with Aunt Sarah later.”

He nodded. “Be careful. It’s wet out and the roads get treacherous after a rain.”

“I know.” She smiled. “I’ll see you later. Hope you feel better.”

“Thanks. Me, too.”

He closed his eyes. She left him there, but not without misgivings and a lot of worry.


Chapter 4

Minette had her day planned. Interviews in the morning, pick Julie up at kindergarten at one, bring her home, then back to school to talk to Julie’s teacher. Then, at three, she would go back to the elementary school to get Shane.

But that wasn’t the way it played out...

When she finished the first interview, with a local politician who was thinking about entering the mayor’s race, she had a phone call.

“Miss Raynor?” a deep, faintly accented voice inquired.

“Yes?”

“I have a message for your houseguest.”

“Who is this?” she asked belligerently.

“My name is not important. Please tell Sheriff Carson that a more accurate marksman is being engaged.”

He hung up.

Minette stared at the phone, but she didn’t hang it up. She pulled out her cell phone and called Zack. She explained the phone call she’d just received and asked if he could have the telephone company run a trace. He agreed to try and hung up.

Bill Slater stuck his head in the door. “Trouble?” he asked.

She sighed. Her managing editor looked capable of standing there all day unless she told him. “I think whoever hired the attempt on Sheriff Carson just called me,” she confided. “He had a message for Hayes. They’re hiring a better shot,” she said coldly.

“Well, that’s brassy,” Bill replied.

She nodded. She felt sick to her stomach. They couldn’t watch Hayes night and day. And a good sniper was invisible.

“Zack’s good,” he reminded her. “So is Yancy.”

“I wonder if we know anybody in the mob,” she wondered aloud. “Fight fire with fire?” she mused with a laugh.

“Bite your tongue. Hayes will lock you up for just suggesting it.”

She sighed. “No doubt.” She worried her hair. “It’s got to be connected with the turf war,” she added. “Hayes interfered. They don’t like that.”

“Tell me about it. Our recently departed ace reporter almost got you killed and us burned alive with his unmasking of the rougher elements of the drug trade,” he added darkly. “I could have punched him. Insolent little toad.”

“He wasn’t so bad,” she replied with a sad smile. “At least he had the guts to dig out the bare facts of the conflict.”

“And almost got us killed,” Bill repeated. “If it hadn’t been for some quick work by the fire department, and then Chief Grier, who found the perp, we’d both be toast.”

“That’s the truth.” She pursed her lips. “You know what, I think I’ll wander over to the police department and have a word with Chief Grier.” She got up, and pushed her chair toward her desk. “You’ll need to have Jerry prompt the florist about that display ad they want—we can’t wait too long on the copy.”

“I’ll tell Jerry to sit on them.”

She made a face at him. “Don’t sit too hard. We’re hurting for advertising.”

“So I’ll stand on street corners and sell great package deals,” he chuckled.

“I don’t think it would help. But it’s a kind thought. I’ll be back when I can. Call if you need me.”

He nodded.

* * *

Cash Grier was intimidating, even to a woman whose job it was to interview all sorts of personalities. He seemed very businesslike and unapproachable. He was tall and dark, with a handsome face and intelligent black eyes. He’d been married for a couple of years to a former movie star, and they had a little girl. Tippy Grier’s young brother also lived with them.

“What can I do for you?” Cash asked when she perched forward on a chair in front of his massive cluttered desk.

She was staring at piles of paper haphazardly stacked on either side of a cleaned-off spot.

He gave her a haughty look. “I’ll have you know that those files are logically stacked in priority of need. I myself went through each one with no assistance from my secretary who doesn’t know how to file anything!” he added, raising his voice so that the demure, dark-haired young woman in the outer office could hear him through the half-open door.

“Lies,” came a lilting voice in answer.

“I can’t even find the menu for Barbara’s Café!” he shot back.

With a resounding sigh, the young woman walked through the door, dark-haired, slender and neatly dressed in jeans and a blue T-shirt with a knee-length sleeved sweater over it. “There,” she said, putting the menu neatly on his desk. She glared at him. “And the files would be in order, sir, if you’d just let me do my job...”

“Those are secret and important files,” he pointed out in his deep voice. “Which should not be the subject of local gossip.”

“I never gossip,” she replied blandly.

“You do so,” he retorted. “You told people all over town that I carry a sidearm!”

The secretary looked at Minette, rolled her eyes and went back out again.

Minette was distracted. She stared at Cash Grier curiously. Their very few meetings had been businesslike and brief, mostly when she interviewed him about criminal investigations—and there had only been a handful lately.

“I have trouble getting good help,” he said with an angelic smile.

“I’m the best help you’ve ever had, sir, because I can spell and type and answer the phone!”

“Well, you can’t do them all at once, Carlie, now can you?” he shot back.

There was a muttered sound, followed by the muted one of fingers on a computer keyboard.

“What can I do for you?” Cash asked belatedly.

“It’s about Sheriff Carson,” Minette replied.

“Yes. We’re working with his department to find out who shot him, although frankly, it’s causing some headaches.”

She nodded. “I just had a call from someone who said the next person they send would be a better shot. That’s just a summary. I brought the recording with me.” She took out a small cassette and put it on the desk. “We routinely record all our calls. We’ve had some issues in the past.”

“Yes, when someone tried to firebomb your office, I remember. He’s doing five to ten up in state prison, one of the few arsonists who ever got convicted.” Cash took out a small device from his desk drawer, inserted the tape Minette had brought and played it with his eyes shut. He did that again. He opened his eyes. “Northern Mexico,” he murmured, thinking aloud. “But with a hint of Mexico City. A native speaker. Calling from somewhere near a highway.”

“You got all that from a few words?” Minette asked, impressed.

He nodded, all business. “I still have a few skills left over from the old days, and I’ve dealt with telephone threats before. This is gloating, pure and simple. He thinks he’s too smart to be caught.” His eyes narrowed. “Hayes still at your place?”

“Yes,” she said. “He’s resisting attempts at rehabilitation and pretending that he doesn’t need all that nonsense.” She sighed. “He may never leave, at this rate.”

He got up from the desk, towering over her. “I’ll go out and have a talk with him,” he said. “I’ve been in his situation a few times. It might help. Mind if I hold on to that tape?”

“No. And if we get any more calls, I’ll bring them to you.” She hesitated. “I have two little kids living in my house, not to mention my elderly great-aunt,” she began.

“And you’re wondering how safe they are,” he replied. He smiled gently. “I’ll take care of that. No worries. You just save the world one article at a time.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

He walked her out. Carlie looked up from her desk with shimmering green eyes.

“The mayor called,” she told Cash. “He wants to know if you’re coming to the city council meeting.”

“No.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“I’ll tell you what to tell him...” Cash began heatedly.

She held up a hand. “Please. My father is a minister.”

Cash made a face at her and walked Minette to the front door. “I’ll see what I can do to motivate Hayes.” He hesitated. “Has he still got that huge reptile?”

Minette nodded.

“Is it living with you, too?” he asked with a grin.

She laughed. “No. I’m not going to be lunch for any enormous holdover from the dinosaur age,” she promised him.

* * *

Later, at Minette’s house, Cash was less humorous. Hayes had received a call, also.

“The coward was bragging about his marksman’s skill. He said that I moved or I’d be dead now,” Hayes muttered.

“Good thing you did move,” Cash replied. He drew in a breath. “I gather you’ve had the number checked out already?”

Hayes gave him a long-suffering look, and Cash laughed.

“Yes. It was a cell phone that’s no longer in service. Probably one of those throwaway types. We traced a call one of the cartel mules placed from our jail the day before I was shot. Same story.”

Cash nodded. “We’ve dealt with our share of those,” he agreed. He leaned forward in the chair he was occupying beside Hayes’s bed. “Lawmen make enemies,” he added. “But this is an exceptional one. Do you have any idea who’s behind the assassination attempt?”

Hayes nodded. “My investigator dug out a privileged little piece of dark information about a month ago. He was able to tie the death of a border agent with the one they call El Ladrón.”

“The thief,” Cash translated. He laughed. “How appropriate.”

“His men don’t call him that,” Hayes said. “Only his enemies.”

“We can only hope that he has enough of those to help bring him down.”

“He has one major enemy who’s fighting him for control of Cotillo,” Hayes said. “A reclusive, very dangerous leader of a South American cartel making inroads into the Mexican drug trade.”

“This reclusive drug trader, do we know who he is?”

Hayes nodded. “The son of an American heiress who ran away with a charming but deadly Mexican gang leader. He used his mother’s money to avenge his father, who was killed by agents of El Ladrón.”

“Deeper and deeper,” Cash mused.

“It gets worse.” Hayes’s jaw was taut with stress. His dark eyes narrowed. “This reclusive drug lord has ties to our country in a way that could cause some very harsh problems locally.”

“Don’t tell me. He’s related to the mayor of Jacobsville,” Cash chuckled.

“Much worse.” He drew in a breath. “He has a daughter. She doesn’t know it.”

Cash frowned. “There’s a new wrinkle. Her father is a notorious drug dealer and she doesn’t know about him?”

Hayes nodded. He felt a twinge of guilt. “He’s the one who supplied Brent and Ella Walsh, who gave Rachel Conley the coke that she injected my brother, Bobby, with...a fatal dose of narcotics.”

“Sorry,” Cash said gruffly. “That must make it harder.”

“It does.” He leaned back against the pillows. He felt older than his years. “My father, Dallas, was sheriff here for many years, right up until he died, as you must know. He told me about the connection, in case I ever needed the information, but he made me swear that I’d never tell the woman what I knew about her real father.” He made a face. “It’s tied my hands in terrible ways.”

“I can imagine.” He cocked his head. “Which means you can’t tell me, either.”

“That’s the case.” Hayes drew in a long breath. “I’m not sure what to do,” he confessed. “I don’t know how she’d react. I don’t know,” he added, “if her father even knows about her. But I have to assume that he probably does. If that’s the case, and he finds himself in a corner, he might try to use her to help him out of it.”

Cash’s eyebrows arched. “She has influence?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, boy.”

“I never thought I’d have to wrestle with a decision like this,” he replied. “It’s keeping me awake at night.”

“Family secrets,” he murmured. “Tippy and I have had to deal with those, too. She still doesn’t know who her real father was. Her mother couldn’t tell her, although her brother’s dad is a police chief in Georgia.”

“I heard about that,” Hayes replied, and frowned.

“What are you going to do?”

Hayes shrugged, wincing when it made his chest uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. It depends on circumstances.” He met Cash’s eyes. “I’m putting Minette’s family in danger by staying here,” he added unexpectedly.

“Not really.” Cash’s dark eyes were amused. “Things are going on that you don’t know about.” He held up his hand when Hayes tried to speak. “Better you don’t know.”

“I gather our every move is being watched,” Hayes mused.

“Oh, you can count on that.” He propped his forearms on his knees. “Now about this physical therapy thing...”

“Stop right there,” Hayes muttered.

“Sorry, I promised. I always keep my promises. I know what it’s like to be shot, and I have vaster experience than you do,” he added. “You don’t want to end up losing the use of that arm, do you?”

Hayes’s eyes popped. “What do you mean?”

“Surely the doctor explained how muscles atrophy?”

“Well, he said something of the sort. I wasn’t really listening. I was trying to get him to sign me out of the hospital at the time. I’d have agreed to paint his house if he’d asked.”

Cash chuckled. “I’ve been there, too.” He pursed his lips. “It’s just a little sacrifice, having that treatment and doing the exercises. You don’t want to have to hire somebody to carry your gun and shoot it for you,” he added.

“I have been shot before,” Hayes argued.

“Yes, but not this seriously,” Cash replied. His dark eyes narrowed. “You know, most people who carry more than two gunshot wounds would be said to have gone looking for trouble.”

Hayes glared at him.

“I won’t believe you’re suicidal, Hayes,” Cash continued. “But you do walk in blind. I don’t want to have to learn how to work with a new sheriff,” he added meaningfully. “It would be time-consuming.”

Hayes managed a grin. “I’ll buy that. You’re not the easiest acquaintance I know.”

“I’ll get worse with age,” Cash promised. “The point is,” he sobered, “that you’re less cautious than you need to be. Gunshot wounds add up. They cause problems later in life.”

“I’m not going to start watching my shadow.”

“Not asking you to,” Cash replied. “But you need to pay more attention to your surroundings and call for backup. You’re not one of those caped heroes. We don’t have any radioactive spiders around here.”

Hayes chuckled. “You sure about that?”

“Go to rehab,” Cash advised. “And take advantage of the last rest you’re likely to get in the coming weeks. I think we’re going to find that we’re in the middle of a drug turf war.”

“You’ve been talking to Cy Parks.”

“Yes, I have. You remember that property a former drug trafficker bought that adjoins his?” He waited while Hayes nodded. “Well, it’s never been resold and Cy’s seen some new activity there. Buildings going up, semitrailers coming in. He checked it out, but the workers don’t seem to know much. They say some horse breeder is moving in. Cy thinks it’s going to be a front for drug distribution. He’s worried.”

“He does love his purebred Santa Gerts,” Hayes agreed, mentioning the one native breed of cattle, Santa Gertrudis, which hailed from the famous King Ranch in Texas.

“I told him I’d have a few people I know check it out and get back to me. But if you want my opinion, the man behind it is El Ladrón’s competition.”

Hayes sat straight up. “No. Not him. Not here, for God’s sake!”

“Afraid so, if my theory is right.”

“Damn. Damn!”

“It might work to our advantage,” Cash said. “We’d have him where we could watch him.”

Hayes didn’t dare say what he was thinking. It would have revealed too much.

“What if he’s the gent who sent the shooter after me, instead of the other?” Hayes wondered aloud.

“Not him,” Cash replied. “He’s got too much class for hired assassins.”

Hayes lifted an eyebrow. “Too much class?”

“The man goes to church,” Cash replied. “He’s devout. He takes care of his workers, buys insurance for all of them, makes sure the kids are educated.”

“Is he a drug lord or a saint?” Hayes asked, exasperated.

“Why do you think they call him �El Jefe’? They speak of him with reverence. He’s as far removed from the other one as a saint is from sin.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how he ever ended up involved in the drug trade in the first place. He’s independently wealthy. He doesn’t need it.”

“Maybe he likes the risk and the rep,” Hayes replied.

Cash chuckled. “Maybe he does.”




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