Читать книгу The Ranger's Texas Proposal - Jessica Keller - Страница 11

Chapter One

“A forced vacation,” Heath Grayson grumbled and tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He loathed speaking on his phone through his car speakers. It felt unnatural.

“You need time off. You won’t take it. Where does that leave me?” Chuck, the major who oversaw the Texas Rangers out of Company F, was starting to lose his patience.

“It leaves you with a man who wants to work. Why not just let me keep working?”

“Rules are rules, Ranger. The handbook says I’m not supposed to let you carry more than one hundred and sixty vacation hours into the next year.”

“I know this is only the start of my second year as a Ranger, but the Department of Public Safety hasn’t ever enforced that on me.” He’d carried hundreds of vacation hours with him when he became a Texas Ranger. Hours he’d never used during his years working in the investigative unit of the state troopers. “My paycheck comes from them. We’re still under their umbrella.”

“Unfortunately, the Ranger unit is a little stricter with time usage. Now...even if you stay away all of November—which I’m ordering you to do, hear me?—you’ll still be carrying over four hundred hours into next year. I can’t believe they let you bring that time with you when we hired you.”

“It’s all the same branch of the government.” He tried to keep the grumble out of his voice this time but wasn’t successful.

“I’m aware of that. But the Austin office is going to mince me if you don’t start whittling these hours away.”

“Fine. Sorry. I don’t want to cause you any trouble. I’ll stay away.” Heath swallowed hard. Worked his jaw. Still, after all these years, why was it so hard to talk about it? “But do I have your permission to look into that cold-case file we talked about...on my time?”

Chuck sighed. “I won’t stop you from looking into your father’s murder, if that’s what you’re asking. But, Heath?”

He glanced down into the footwell on the passenger’s side of his truck, where a box of file copies on his dad’s murder rested. “Yes, sir?”

“That case has been cold for fifteen years. Arctic cold.”

Heath sucked in a breath. “I’m well aware of that, sir.”

Fifteen years.

Heath had now been without his father for just as many years as he’d known the man. The hero. The Texas Ranger who had lost his life on the job. Heath had followed in his father’s footsteps—at least in choosing the same profession. Heath tapped his badge, resting in the compartment near the driveshaft. However, he wouldn’t make the same mistakes his father had. Heath wouldn’t get married. Wouldn’t drag kids into a situation where they might lose their dad like he and his sister had. He couldn’t do that to people he cared about.

Chuck cleared his throat and Heath got the sense that the major was about to try to talk him out of his mission, but instead he said, “Best of luck, and rest up. That last case... You’ve done a lot of good, son. I wish we had more awards to hand you for that one.”

Heath dragged his hand over his short dark hair. The last case had worked him raw. “I don’t want awards. That’s not why I do this job.”

“All the same. There are twelve kids out there safe today because of your work these past few months. Allow yourself a moment to celebrate that while you’re enjoying vacation. For me. That’s an order.”

“Will do, sir.”

Heath had been the lead Ranger on a statewide bust that had started as a drug-smuggling investigation but blew up to uncover a dirty underground of child trafficking. It took months of covert and often stomach-turning investigation, but Heath and a few other officers had been able to bring charges against the seven top guys in the criminal ring. They’d arrested six more on lesser offenses. And twelve kids had been set free. He’d never forget their faces when he broke into the room and ushered them to safety.

That was why he did this job, even though it was inherently dangerous. Bringing about justice, seeing people free and safe again...that was why he wore the badge.

And now he had one more kid to help out. His teenage self. Ever since his father’s murder, there had been a weight, a binding around his chest. If he could close the case, perhaps he could move past the anger that still bubbled inside that boy who’d lost his dad. The boy who’d fought with his dad the last time he saw him. The boy who’d never gotten to tell his hero I’m sorry or I love you one last time.

Which was why he was keeping his vacation local. Haven, Texas...home of the boys ranch where his father had been murdered.

First, though, he had to investigate some mischief that had been occurring at the boys ranch, where his buddy Flint Rawlings now worked. Flint had asked him to look into a string of minor offenses. Not exactly normal Ranger-type work, but Heath was desperate for an excuse to plant himself in the middle of the boys ranch in order to poke around about his father’s case anyway. He’d investigate some calves getting out of their pens and some petty thefts if it served that purpose. Besides, Flint and Heath had been friends since basic training, back when they’d both served as soldiers. Heath wasn’t one to turn his back on the few friends who had stuck with him over the years.

Heath adjusted his visor, blocking the midmorning sun from blazing directly into his eyes.

Flint had explained that the troubles at the ranch had escalated last night. A female volunteer by the name of Josie Markham had witnessed someone running out of the barn, calves following in the person’s wake. No one knew how the perpetrator broke into the barn. But they had a firsthand account from a witness, so at least there was a starting point.

More than Heath had to go on about his father.

Was the mischief at the boys ranch a coincidence? Doubtful. At the moment, Heath would guess everything amounted to pranks or the frustrated acting out of a disgruntled resident. It was a home for troubled boys after all. But Heath wasn’t a guessing sort of man. He believed in hard facts and logic. Everything had an answer if a person was willing to dig far enough to find it.

He’d built his life on information and facts, and currently Josie Markham was in possession of both those things.

* * *

Josie Markham took a deep breath as she stopped for a moment to lean against her late-model truck. Morning sunlight traced through the unkempt field behind her home. Next year she’d plant something there. This little patch of land would be a working ranch with crops, too. She clenched her fists. No matter what, she was determined to see her dream through.

“I can do this.” She rubbed her hands over her arms, trying to warm up.

Even in Texas, early November mornings carried a chill. A shiver raced down her spine, but it could have more to do with exhaustion than the weather. Josie sighed.

There wouldn’t be time to relax today.

The animals needed to be cared for, she had to make something to eat, and by the time those things were done, she’d have to head to the boys ranch across town for her volunteer shift. Bea—the director at the boys ranch—had already urged Josie to begin cutting down her hours serving there, but she didn’t want to. As a new member of The Lone Star Cowboy League, the organization that ran the boys ranch, Josie felt a responsibility to be there whenever she could. But it was more than that; Josie loved working at the boys ranch. She thrived on the animal-husbandry classes she taught and the hours she spent in her role as mother’s helper inside the large home on the property.

Chores. She needed to finish her chores before she could think about anything else.

Josie started to move, but then decided to allow herself the small luxury of one more minute watching the sunrise before heading into the barn. Fingertips of sunlight outlined the stable and a fenced-in pasture area. Golden and pink light sketched into the fleeing night sky, making the world glow with possibility.

If Josie lived to be a hundred, she’d never get over the beauty that was the rise and fall of the sun each day. A reminder that everything had a beginning and an end—a marked-out time—that she had no control over. But God did. He knew and nothing happened outside of His care. Didn’t the Bible say there was a time for everything? A time to cry, to laugh, to rejoice. God was in control.

Some days she almost believed that.

Josie traced her fingers over the large dent and scratches along the side of her truck; most of the bronze paint had started to peel off in that area. It didn’t look pretty, but she wasn’t going to waste money fixing it. Not that she would have had the money even if it desperately did need to be fixed.

When they’d purchased the truck as newlyweds, Dale had often kidded her that the bronze clashed with her auburn hair. Foolish man. He never did understand what the word clash meant in a fashion sense. She shook her head, suppressing the smile that pulled on her lips whenever she thought about their early days together. The good times.

Don’t think about Dale. Don’t cry.

Her throat clamped and she blinked back the burn in her eyes. Texas dust. That was all it was. The dust.

After paying off the gambling debts and back taxes she’d discovered after Dale’s funeral, she’d had to sell their home and most of their married belongings. All but the truck—she got to keep it because it was paid off. The vehicle was all she had left of her and Dale’s life together.

Her hands automatically dropped to her expanding midsection.

The little person growing and moving inside of her begged to differ about the truck being the only piece of their marriage left. Tears found their way to her chin. The irony of her situation—almost six months pregnant and a husband buried just less than that—tore at her heart. The week before he was gunned down on the job, Dale had started packing to leave her. He’d wanted a son—a child—and in ten years of marriage, Josie hadn’t gotten pregnant.

She hadn’t been enough to keep Dale happy.

Now none of that mattered. He was gone and they were having a child. A child she’d raise on nothing. With no husband, no man to help with chores or bring in a paycheck or hold her when she wanted to fall apart and cry.

For the rest of her life...alone.

“We’re going to be okay, lima bean.” Her voice broke on the nickname. “Hear that?” She rubbed her belly. “Don’t mind your mama’s tears here and there. The doctor tells me that’s all part of being pregnant. Emotions. Lots of ’em. So don’t let them worry you at all. They don’t mean anything. You and me are going to be just fine.”

If she kept repeating that, maybe it’d be true.

* * *

Heath glanced at the screen on his GPS. Almost there.

Over the phone, Flint had given him the name Josie Markham along with her address and sent Heath off to “go along, now, and do your investigating.” Knowing Flint, Heath was fairly certain the man hadn’t given Ms. Markham a heads-up that a Ranger was on his way over. No matter. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d shown up at someone’s home unannounced, and it sure wouldn’t be the last. It went with the job.

Wind whipped through his windows, carrying the scent of dirt and cattle and something musty—stale water. Decay. A low river. They’d had a dry summer and not much more rain so far that fall, either. Later in the day, the high would sit in the upper sixties. Cold by Texan standards, but Heath liked the fresh air. He’d always choose fresh air over the vented stuff.

Heath pulled onto a small dirt road, dust swirling behind his truck. At the end of the road, the ranch that greeted him left something to be desired. Could it even be called a ranch? A small cabin perched on the edge of a meandering river. Cattails encircled the opposite side of the water from the cabin and there was a tiny dock, good for launching a rowboat or canoe. It would also make an ideal fishing spot. Too bad Heath wasn’t much of a fisherman.

There was a large SUV-type truck parked beside the cabin. It sported a dent almost big enough for a person to hide in along the passenger side. No way that door opened anymore. Recent crash? The lack of rust said so. Was someone still driving around in that thing? It couldn’t be safe.

Behind the cabin was a barn that had seen better days. Heath parked his truck, stepped out and ducked past the cabin to get a better view of the rest of the land. Scratch his original thought—the barn had seen much better days. The thing looked liable to fall down in any stiff wind, probably smashing whatever poor animals called that place home in the process.

Right when Heath was about to turn toward the cabin, he spotted a petite woman coming out of the barn, struggling as she huffed and puffed behind a creaking wheelbarrow.

His long stride ate up the distance quickly. “Here. Let me help.”

The woman set down the handles, balanced the wheelbarrow in the soft earth near a grassless pen and swiped sweat from her forehead. One of her fingers poked through a hole in her worn-out work gloves. The nail polish on it was chipped, but purple. Her hair color fell somewhere between red and brown. She had it pulled up, but it must be long to make that gigantic bun on her head. He never understood how women were able to get it to look that way, all piled on top... Didn’t it hurt? Wasn’t that much hair heavy?

The woman—Josie Markham, according to Flint—set her hands on her hips and scowled at him as if Heath were a spider on her wall. “What can I do for you, Officer?” Her tone said she didn’t really want to do anything for him. Ever.

He raised his eyebrows.

She heaved a sigh. Her cheeks were flushed from exertion. She grabbed at the collar of the light green shirt she wore, fanning it to cool herself down. “White hat. Boots. White starched shirt. And that belt’s the type they only issue to Texas Rangers.” She gestured toward his holster. “I hope you weren’t trying to be undercover.”

“Good eye.” He extended his hand. She narrowed her gaze but shook it. “Heath Grayson. I’m a friend of Flint’s.”

In the space of a heartbeat, her hesitant expression vanished and was replaced by wide-eyed concern. “Did something else happen at the ranch?” Her lips parted to suck in air and her skin went paler than it was naturally a moment ago. Josie had one of those the rare types of faces that didn’t age—she’d look young forever. Even though she was probably nearing thirty, she could pass for eighteen.

She shifted from around the wheelbarrow. “What are we waiting for? If something’s wrong, let’s go.” She started toward her truck.

Once she moved away from the wheelbarrow, he saw her stomach. Pregnant. Very pregnant. That fact wasn’t a maybe or a possibly—it was a certainty. Flint had mentioned Josie was widowed, but he’d left out the little detail that she was with child. So, a recent widow.

Had she been in the barn alone...doing chores?

Heath imagined his sister, Nell. She’d been married to a fireman a few years back. Bill. A loser. He’d cheated on Nell and left her alone, pregnant with their daughter, Carly. Even the reminder of the man caused Heath’s hands to bunch into fists. Heath had always wanted to march up to Bill and give him a piece of his mind, but Nell had forbidden any such nonsense. His younger sister was a strong, determined woman. The set of Josie’s chin hinted that she might have that in common with Nell.

“Let me help you with your chores,” Heath said.

Josie’s jaw dropped. “What about the boys ranch?”

“The ranch is fine.”

“Why didn’t you say so? You about gave me a heart attack.” She laid her hand on her chest and took a few deep breaths. Then her eyes skirted back up to capture his. “If the ranch is fine, why exactly are you here, then?”

She fanned her face and dragged in huge amounts of oxygen through her mouth as if she was having a hard time getting it into her lungs.

Now he’d done it. Gone and gotten a pregnant woman all worked up. Did he need to find her a chair? A drink of water? Rush her to the hospital? What a terrible feeling, being out of control. It was disconcerting. With his training as a Ranger and his years as a state trooper before that, he was far too used to knowing what to do in whatever situation he was placed in.

“Are you all right, ma’am?” He took hold of her elbow and steered her away from the barn, toward the cabin. She felt so small and breakable. There wasn’t much meat on her arm. “What do you need?”

“I’m fine. Just fine.” She laughed. “You should see your face, though.” She pointed up at him and covered her mouth, hiding her wide grin. Her warm brown eyes shone with mischief. “Now you look like you’re the one having a heart attack. Relax there, Officer. It was only a figure of speech.” Her laugh was a high sound, full of joy. Josie laughed with her whole self, without holding anything back.

Heath wanted to hear it again.

She even smelled nice—a mixture of sunshine from the outdoors and something sweet, almost like the scent that used to drift through his childhood home when his mom was making caramel chews.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

Had she asked him something? Heath scratched his chin.

Josie crossed her arms, resting them on top of her protruding stomach. “So, then, Heath Grayson, Texas Ranger, what brings you to my ranch?”

He toed his boot into the parched earth. How on earth was this tiny woman making him feel as if he was the one under questioning, not the other way around? Off-kilter. That was the way to describe how he felt.

“Flint wants me to speak with you about the incident last night. About the calves.”

“Funny.” She inclined her head. “I didn’t take this for something that required the intervention of the Texas Rangers.”

“You’re right. This isn’t exactly official business.” He made finger quotes around the last two words. “I’m on vacation. Only doing Flint a favor.”

“Ah, so you’re a do-gooder, then? The married-to-the-job type. Poking around for petty criminals on your off time?” The tug of her lips let him know she was teasing him again.

Silence usually worked when he was locked in a room with his worst offenders. Perhaps the trick would get the firecracker that was Josie Markham to stay on track, as well. Heath locked his jaw out of habit.

“Okay. I see. That’s your confession look.” She pointed at his face. “That’s the stern one that gets the bad guys to give in. Fine. Be that way.” She pulled off her gloves and wiped her hands on the thighs of her jeans. “Well, let’s get it over with quickly, then. I’ve got a lot that needs to get done today.” She jutted her thumb over her shoulder, pointing at the barn.

Heath’s gaze traced back over the patched-together ranch. If Josie was all alone, she needed help. That should take precedence over an investigation about some loose cows. It wasn’t exactly like anyone was in immediate danger. Not from what Flint had shared.

Unlike the danger that had plagued the boys ranch fifteen years ago.

“How about I go ahead and help with your chores first?” Heath crossed his arms and widened his stance, ready for the fight he was sure this woman would put up. He’d spent enough time on his uncle’s ranch over the years, especially after his father’s death, that Heath knew his way around a barn and wasn’t shy when it came to manual labor. He was just as much at home mucking stables as he was on the shooting range.

Her lips pinched as if she’d bitten into something sour. “Absolutely not.”

No one could say he wasn’t a good judge of character.

“I insist.”

Josie blew out a long stream of air. “Listen, Officer Grayson—”

“Heath is just fine.” He took a half step closer.

“Heath, then.” She patted her hair. “I make it a point not to spend too much time around lawmen anymore.”

Anymore?

“Interesting.” He held his ground. “We’re at an impasse, then, because I make it a point not to leave pregnant women on their own to do any heavy labor.”

“Labor, really?” A muscle twitching on her cheek said she was fighting the upward tilt of her lips. “That’s the word you’re going with?”

“Let me help you. Please?” He softened his voice.

Why was he pushing this issue so hard? He didn’t know Josie, but her condition twisted his gut and it tugged at him... She could be Nell. He’d been with the state troopers, stationed clear across the state when Nell fell on hard times. The distance had made it impossible to help her at all when she was alone and pregnant with his niece, Carly. Heath would always regret not being there for them. But perhaps lessening Josie’s load—if only for a month—could be a small way to atone.

Besides, she was a witness to a recent crime. Even though Flint didn’t believe there was an immediate threat, depending on what Heath’s investigation uncovered, it could mean Josie was a target. Especially if she had been seen or if her information led to someone’s capture.

He couldn’t leave her on her own.

Heath had a month off... Why not help around her ranch? He needed something to do with his time and he wouldn’t be able to spend every second of his vacation at the boys ranch investigating his father’s murder. Not without people becoming suspicious. He didn’t want them all to know that was what he was doing there. There was a chance he’d solve nothing. That he’d fail. He definitely didn’t want them to feel sorry for him, the way people often did when they found out about his father’s death.

Helping take care of Josie gave him an out...an alibi. He could help on her ranch and then drive her—because her truck was not safe in its current condition—to the boys ranch for her volunteer hours, which would give him a believable reason to hang around so much. Because he knew Flint would get annoyed if Heath trailed him around at the ranch. Hopefully, Josie wouldn’t.

He yanked off his hat and laid it over his heart. “My mother would be ashamed of me if I left your ranch without pitching in. Say yes...for my mother’s sake.”

Josie popped her fists onto her hips and let out another loud laugh. “Well, if you’re going to guilt me by bringing your mom into things, I guess a girl’s going to have to accept your help.” She shook her finger at him. “But mark it in the books that I am accepting begrudgingly and slightly under protest.”

“Under protest.” Now Heath was the one who couldn’t help but smile. He wasn’t used to that. “I’ll be sure to mark that down.”

The woman was definitely a bit of a spitfire. And not even an inch of her was intimidated by his being a Texas Ranger, which was refreshing. The instant respect that often came with the office was nice, but it tended to keep everyone at an arm’s distance.

Heath rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

This November, Josie Markham wouldn’t be alone. Not like Nell had been.

Not if Heath had anything to do with it.