Читать книгу Duke: Deputy Cowboy - Roz Fox Denny - Страница 10

Chapter Two

Duke slowed his steps and smiled as he watched Luke playing tag with Zorro. “My dog loves all the attention,” he said, waiting while Angie checked the enclosure and the feed trough of a potbellied pig.

“This is Layman. I’m trying to find him a home. There was a time potbellied pigs were considered ideal pets. Once the novelty wore off, and people discovered they really were pigs with just a bit better disposition, a new animal fad replaced them, and they get discarded like old tennis shoes.”

“That sucks,” Duke grumbled, bending to scratch the fat white pig behind his ears. “Pets are part of the family.”

Angie had cut a shock of fresh lettuce from her garden as they walked past. She scattered the leaves in Layman’s trough. “Sadly, not everyone believes that,” she said, growing serious all of a sudden. “My grandparents ran this animal rescue ranch, but it’s grown since I took over. And costs keep rising.”

“Ace mentioned he treats your animals.”

“I hate calling him, because half the time he doesn’t charge me. And bless your aunt for spending time showering love on some of my neediest pets.” They walked on to a pen full of goats. “The family who raised these goats had to move when the husband found work in the city. The babies are so cute I can’t bear to part with them. I’ll probably wish I had when they grow bigger and start being pesky.”

“You have an odd assortment,” Duke remarked, when a very pregnant donkey lumbered up to the fence. “I would have sworn this was primarily cattle and horse country. Where do these all come from?”

“Oh, people drive out from surrounding towns and dump some off in the middle of the night,” Angie said. “Some bring abandoned animals that wander onto their land. I have three sheep from a family whose daughter raised them in 4-H. She went off to college. Her dad is a long-haul trucker, and his wife wanted to go on the road with him. They planned to sell the sheep, but the daughter couldn’t bear the thought of sending them off to be lamb chops.”

Duke laughed. “You’re as soft a touch as Ace, I can tell,” he said as Luke ran up followed by Zorro. The boy stuttered his way through telling his mom he wished their two dogs were this much fun.

“Honey, you know the dogs we currently have were mistreated. They’re afraid of people. We need to be patient.”

“I—I know,” the boy said, as he went to his knees and flung both arms around Duke’s big dog.

“There’s a tennis ball in the backseat of my truck,” Duke said. “If it’s okay with your mom, Zorro loves to play fetch.”

“C-c-can I?” His hazel eyes lit. Duke figured the boy’s father must have had brown eyes, because Angie’s eyes were almost a silvery-blue.

“You may,” she stressed, taking time to point out the difference between can and may.

The adults stood in silence as boy and dog tore back down the path. Duke broke the silence first. “If the only reason you haven’t signed him up for the Wild Pony Race is a lack of teammates, I can ask around and see if anyone in his age group is in need of a third person.”

Angie clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. “I guess you noticed my reluctance to commit about the race. I’m not being mean. His first year of school was difficult. Two weeks into the school year, practically out of the blue, he started to stutter. Our pediatrician says there’s no physical abnormality. He believes Luke will probably outgrow it. I had him tested by the school. When school starts in the fall Luke will meet twice a week with a speech therapist. Call me overly protective, but his condition worsened when other boys picked on him. He’s small for his age and, well, I can’t risk this pony race being another bad experience for him.”

Recalling the difficulties he had with the same problem of stuttering and being teased unmercifully as a kid, Duke nevertheless couldn’t bring himself to share such personal information with Luke’s mom, a woman he’d like to impress.

“I’m not trying to pressure you,” he said, “but I see all the entries and usually hear about kids wanting to sign up. I could pass on names of any seven- or eight-year-olds who need a partner, so you can check them out. There are a lot of good kids in Roundup.”

“Lucas has been badgering me since the Sunday he came out of class with that flyer. Okay,” she said slowly. “Call if you hear of anyone needing a partner.”

Duke sensed she still had reservations.

They meandered on and she stepped off the path to fill a scoop from a bin and then she scattered corn for the chickens. They saw a pair of barn cats slink away from where they hid in weeds to watch the chickens. “Those cats,” Angie lamented. “I need to find them homes before my feisty hens give them a lesson they won’t soon forget.”

Her companion didn’t comment, and Angie worried that she was talking too much and was boring him. “We’re nearly at the field where I have the horses turned out. I have an old Shetland pony and two gentle mares I rescued from a urine production line selling to a slaughter house. They’ll make someone good saddle horses. Ah, there’s the old fellow I told you about, plus a younger gelding I rescued from a rodeo-stock contractor who beat him to make him buck.”

As soon as they reached the fence, the horses wandered over. Angie had treats in her pockets, and the horses crowded in for their share.

Duke saw the old horse still had prominent ribs, but none of the animals in her care had defeat in their eyes. He liked that.

“The mares look so much better than when the Humane Society turned in the farmer who ran the operation. The Shetland came from an elderly lady’s farm. She couldn’t feed herself, let alone a pony, a dog and multiple cats.”

“I’m sorry to have troubled you,” Duke said, withdrawing his hand from the old horse’s muzzle. “Color is the only thing this old guy has in common with my aunt’s stallion. I’ll let you get back to your baking. I really wish Midnight had jumped your fence. Dinah is frustrated because the thefts are getting more frequent, and no one sees anything.”

Luke, out of breath from his game of fetch with Zorro, caught up with his mom and Duke as they turned back toward the house. “That was fun,” he announced, this time with no stutter. He handed Duke the tennis ball. As Duke tried to close his swollen left hand around the ball, he caught his breath at the sudden pain, and the ball fell and rolled down the path.

Angie saw and automatically reached for his puffy, discolored hand. She examined his injury in the light spilling from an outside barn light that had switched on. “That looks bad, Dylan. What happened? Have you had it x-rayed?” she asked, lightly stretching out his fingers.

Her whole demeanor spelled caring, which Duke found interesting, and sweet. He’d been around half his family for the better part of the day, and no one noticed the swelling. Or if they did they were so inured to rodeo injuries, they had taken his latest injury in stride.

“It happened Saturday at the Sheridan rodeo on my last ride. Haymaker was the bull’s name. I knew he was a rip snorter prone to burying his head and twisting midair to dislodge his rider. This was my fault. I wrapped the bull rope too tight around my hand. At the buzzer, I leaped off, but Haymaker spun away. He jerked me around pretty good until I was able to release the rope. Really, it’s minor,” he finished saying, because Duke certainly didn’t want Angie to think he was a wimp.

“Y-you ride b-bulls in the rodeo?” Luke got out, his eyes shining and wide. Plainly awed, the boy danced around Duke, asking more about the rodeo.

Duke noticed Angie purse her lips and settle her hand heavily on her son’s shoulder. “Back to the house, young man. Dylan’s leaving.”

“But, do y-you know my d-dad?” the boy blurted. “He’s in r-rodeo. He rides bucking horses.”

Angie stopped dead. “How... Where did you hear that?” she demanded, doing a bit of stammering herself.

Duke took the ball from the boy with his right hand, and motioned Zorro on down the path. It couldn’t be more plain that Angie was shocked by her son’s knowledge.

He heard her mutter, “Never mind,” when Luke said that his gramps had told him. Irritation sparked in Angie’s eyes as she herded her chatty son to the house. Suddenly she stopped, turned and called, “Goodbye, Dylan. I hope you find Sarah’s horse. I’m sure it’s a huge worry.”

He tipped his hat. Unsure whether or not she’d even consider entering Luke in the Wild Pony Race now, Duke nevertheless needed to establish if it was a possibility. “So, I’ll give you a call if I locate any partners like we talked about,” he said, raising his voice so she’d hear. Although she hesitated, Duke saw her nod briefly, and so he said, “You keep an eye out for strangers who may not know you think you have nothing to steal. Log the number for the sheriff’s office on your speed dial,” he shouted as she was closing the screen door. “Your ranch is isolated. The police number in the phone book will reach Dinah or me.”

“I’m good,” he heard her say. But, happy she hadn’t totally dismissed him over his bull riding, Duke let Zorro into the backseat, slid behind the wheel and drove off. The sun was barely a glimmer, but as he glanced in the rearview mirror he noticed Angie still stood in her doorway, watching him.

“That’s a good sign, don’t you think, boy?” Duke told his dog. Zorro whined and batted his paw on the back of Duke’s headrest.

Feeling the adrenaline drain after his lengthy encounter with a woman he found appealing, Duke admitted he was beat and running on empty. But he couldn’t stop thinking, and liking, how he and Angie lingered along the path to her horse field. He felt less constrained around her. Unlike women who gushed over him at rodeos, Angie didn’t act coy and she didn’t flirt. Neither did she talk down to Luke, or scold him when it was patently obvious she didn’t want him asking about his father. And she let the boy get through a sentence without rushing to finish it for him the way Duke recalled happening to him. That was all the more frustrating and only served to make a stutterer stutter more.

He set his phone on the console and switched on the Bluetooth feature. He hit speed dial and listened to it ring twice before Dinah picked up, saying, “Sheriff’s Office, Sheriff Hart speaking.”

“Dinah, it’s Duke. I’m just leaving the Barrington ranch. The black horse Rob saw there is an old gelding. Anything else come in while I’ve been gone?”

“Not a single lead. It’s exasperating. Are you heading home to bed?”

“I thought I’d swing past the Number 1 Diner for their Monday-night special before I go home and crash. Care to join me for supper?”

“Rain check? I’m tired, too, and I still have to type up a report to send to the mayor.”

“Okay. I’ll come into the office early tomorrow. I want to make up a flyer with Midnight’s photo to tack up around town. I’ll make that the first page on the ranch website. And we should get notices out to auction barns, livestock and brand inspectors. Do you think anyone took any video of Midnight when Colt had him at the rodeo? If so, we can post it on YouTube.”

“You’ll have to ask Colt. I’m happy to let you handle all the techie stuff, Duke. Go eat, we can coordinate our next steps tomorrow. Hey, one last question. Did you think Mom looked okay, or should I worry about the strain this theft may have put on her heart? I don’t know much about angina, but someone said it could lead to other heart problems.”

“She took the theft of Midnight almost as hard as losing Uncle John’s special saddle. It is a blow just when it seemed the ranch might recover from its financial woes. She and Ace have to pay the loan they took out to buy Midnight, even if the horse isn’t there to earn his keep. But Ace or Flynn, or Leah would be better able to speak to your mom’s health. Last time I saw her before today was two weekends ago when I went with her to church. She referred to the bout of angina as a minor incident. Maybe we should take her at her word.”

“I suppose,” Dinah said, sounding a bit off stride herself. “When we do find the jerks who stole Midnight, you’ll have to keep me from wringing their necks.”

Duke laughed. Dinah talked tough, but she had the perfect disposition for her job. She knew Montana law, had grown up in Roundup, but her best trait in Duke’s opinion—she accepted people for who they were and looked for good in everyone.

“Laugh, but I want to nail the thieves working over our friends, family and neighbors so bad I can taste it.”

“Me, too. I think by upping their timetable they’re bound to get sloppy and make a misstep.”

“I hope so. Enjoy your club steak on toast and all the trimmings. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”

Duke clicked off as he pulled up in front of the redbrick diner. They all ate there so often they knew the nightly specials by heart. Tonight his timing couldn’t be better. A pickup about the size of his pulled out and left an opening where Duke could keep an eye on his vehicle from inside. “Zorro, be good while I’m in eating and I’ll bring you some steak.” The dog perked his ears, but he lay back down when Duke opened his door and cracked open a window far enough for Zorro to get his snout out for fresh air.

Sierra Byrne, who owned the diner, hadn’t grown up in Roundup, but she’d spent summers in her parents’ cabin on the nearby Musselshell River. And she served comfort food, which made her restaurant a hit with ranchers and rodeo cowboys who went for stick-to-the-ribs meals. Men and women alike enjoyed the mining theme. Duke wasn’t crazy about the tables with sparkly red Formica tops, but in general the place had a homey feel.

Several people greeted him as he entered and that, too, added to the diner’s attraction. Two members of the Roundup rodeo committee hailed him to sit with them. The town’s fair and rodeo loomed large in everyone’s mind as it was only a few weeks away. Preparation didn’t change much from year to year, but every year the committees jockeyed their events enough to claim the current rodeo/fair would be the best one yet. And it did seem to Duke that the fair added more booths, the parade got bigger and motels got booked quicker each year, which was good for the town coffers.

Farley Clark owned a gas station at each end of town. He also stored the movable bleachers at his ranch. Duke supposed Farley wanted to ask him to line up burly cowboys to assemble the bleachers. This evening, Farley and his tablemate, Jeff Woods, wanted to discuss the most recent robbery.

“Heck of a note,” Farley said, “Sarah and Ace losing that pricy stud. Thunder Ranch being hit twice puts me in mind that whoever’s doing this is thumbing their nose at Dinah. What’s she got in mind to do? Are there any leads at all?”

Duke shook his head. He hadn’t expected to get grilled about the burglary, or he probably would have skipped coming here. Not everyone in town had favored the idea of Roundup electing a woman sheriff. Farley had been one of the most vocal, and had supported Dinah’s opponent.

“I’ll take the special, with iced tea,” Duke called to Susie Reynolds, the waitress heading toward him. She gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to deliver his order.

“You figure it’s a local?” Jeff asked, peeling the label off his bottle of sarsaparilla.

“Bound to be,” Duke answered. “Or else someone has spent a lot of time working out escape routes. They strike at night. Nobody hears or sees them make a getaway. Pete Duval’s ranch isn’t easy to find in broad daylight. Practically all of the ranches hit own dogs who haven’t barked in alarm. Dinah and I assume it’s guys who know the back roads and local ranch layouts.”

Farley Clark stirred two packets of sugar in his coffee. “Did you check at the bank if anyone is making deposits over and above what’s normal?”

“Dinah did.” Duke watched the man drink the syrupy black stuff. “Farley, these guys haven’t left any tracks. You know, I sort of sense you aren’t happy with the job Dinah and I are doing. If you want to call a town-hall meeting to let everyone vent, I won’t object and I’m sure Dinah won’t. We keep hoping someone saw or heard something, but haven’t connected it to the break-ins, or didn’t think to report it. Remember, Thunder Ranch has suffered the biggest losses. Surely you don’t believe Dinah and I wouldn’t round up this gang if we could?”

Farley didn’t back off. “I’m just saying it’s gone on longer than any problem the city’s ever had. If Dinah doesn’t catch the culprits before our upcoming fair and rodeo, no one will be comfortable leaving their ranches while they attend scheduled events.”

Duke’s meal came and saved him from losing his temper and snapping at Farley. Susie slipped Duke a small plastic bag. “For Zorro,” she said. “I know you always take him some of your steak.”

“Hey, thanks. I didn’t realize I was so predictable.”

“It’s okay. I really wanted to come ask if any of your family has heard from Tuf? My older brother is finally back in the States. He’s at Kāne‘ohe Bay in Hawaii, but he served with Tuf in Afghanistan and asked about him when we spoke. I said I haven’t seen him around town.”

Duke stopped cutting his steak. “Aunt Sarah has been in contact with him. That’s about all I know. But when I’m not at the sheriff’s office or out doing that job, I’m off at rodeos.” Duke gave a casual shrug. Really he knew everyone in the family worried about his youngest cousin. But they were tight-knit, and not prone to blabber personal stuff that could lead to gossip.

Jeff ordered another soft drink. Luckily Farley took out his money clip, peeled off a tip and dropped it beside his plate. Susie went to help a new customer as Farley said, “I don’t think we’ve reached the stage of calling for a town-hall meeting, Duke, but I wonder if Dinah shouldn’t deputize a couple of guys at least through our fair and rodeo. It so happens my son, Rory, is home from college for the summer, along with his good friend, Tracy Babcock. They could be of help. My wife wants Rory to be a lawyer even though he thinks he’d rather be a rancher. A summer internship as a deputy would look good on his résumé if he chooses law.”

Now Farley’s entire complaint came into focus for Duke and made more sense. “I’ll pass that information along to Dinah when I see her in the morning,” Duke said. He could almost predict her reaction. Farley’s wife had spoiled their only son, Rory, with ready cash, hot cars and expensive clothes only dudes would be caught wearing, and his good buddy, Tracy Babcock, was cut from the same cloth. To keep from further comment, Duke cut a slice of steak and put it in his mouth. He gestured goodbye with his fork as Farley ambled off.

Jeff, who ran a dry-cleaning establishment in town that catered to single cowboys, saw through Duke’s badly concealed attitude. “Farley and Janine have high expectations for Rory. The problem as I see it is they’ve waited too long to clamp down on the kid. I doubt Dinah needs to worry about hiring the boys. Those two and their pals are more interested in partying the summer away with their girlfriends over in Musselshell.” Jeff finished his second sarsaparilla, got up, said his farewells to Duke and stopped to talk to a couple of ranchers on his way out.

Duke tucked into his food. His mind lingered less on Farley’s desire to have his son play deputy, and more on the nearness of the event under discussion. He thought of his offer to find a team of wild pony racers for Angie Barrington’s son. He discovered he liked thinking about Angie. Her efficiency in the kitchen left him wondering how much time she spent making her horse treats. The way he’d seen horses gobble up the oat cookies, they probably ate them faster than one woman alone could bake. If Angie wanted to expand and hire people to help mix and bake the cookies as she’d indicated, she could build a profitable company. He could help her advertise by building her a website—if she’d let him.

Having eaten his fill, Duke sliced and bagged his leftover steak for Zorro. Putting his tip on the money Farley and Jeff had left, Duke got up to go.

Weaving through tables still occupied by people he knew well got him sidetracked by several men who wanted news of the latest robbery. Everyone expressed concern and asked him to pass on good wishes to his aunt and Ace. Thankfully no one else hinted that he and Dinah weren’t doing their job.

Outside at last, Duke opened his pickup and let Zorro out. Exhausted as Duke was, Zorro deserved to stretch his legs, and deserved to eat his steak treat in comfort.

The big dog nosed the bag. Whimpering eagerly, he pawed Duke’s leg.

“Good dog. But let’s walk down to the park before I feed you. I can stand to walk off some of that big meal before I go home and crash for the night.”

In spite of the fact it had gotten quite dark in the time Duke spent in the diner, five or so teenagers still played pick-up basketball in the park. Their only light came from streetlamps set in every block along the town’s main street. Pausing at a park bench, Duke braced a foot on the bench seat and he watched the boys shoot hoops as he fed Zorro bits of steak.

Lighting the play areas in the park had been on the town council agenda for at least the four years Duke had served as deputy. The money never seemed to stretch far enough. The mayor insisted, rightfully so, that funding for police, firefighters, trash collection and other essentials came before lighting the park. But watching the kids who finally gave up trying to see the baskets and took off for who knew where, Duke thought it would be money well spent to get park lighting on the next general-election ballot. Not that he was political.

He chuckled over the notion as he fed Zorro the last bite of steak. He imagined Ace asking him when he had turned into such an adult as to be considering funding, politics and other grown-up things.

In Duke’s eyes, Ace always seemed more mature than his other cousins. Of course, he’d become the man of the ranch after his dad died. Even before that Duke had gone to Ace with problems Duke’s own dad ignored.

He threw the empty plastic bag in a trash bin, then rounded up Zorro and returned to the pickup. In a reflective mood, Duke wondered if he’d given his dad enough credit for keeping him and Beau in food, clothing and a roof over their heads. Perhaps his dad didn’t have time to be demonstrative.

At the Ford, Duke loaded Zorro. He saw the sheriff’s office across the street was dark except for one interior light they always left burning. Dinah must have finished her report and gone home. The weight of this investigation was on Dinah’s shoulders even though she was younger than him by three years. She and Angie were the same age. That thought just popped into Duke’s head.

Driving home he compared the two women. Dinah had spent some rocky years before she dug in and turned her life around. Angie hadn’t grown up in Roundup. Duke had no idea about her background other than gossip and rumors floating around about her and the Texas cowboy—a relationship that culminated in her having a baby at twenty-one, which left her a single mom with a lot of obligations.

As Duke pulled down the alley and parked outside his apartment he admitted he wanted to know more about Angie. Funny, he never thought he’d spend so much time wishing he knew every little detail about how a woman had grown up. He had spent his early years as a loner. Mostly due to his stuttering he had holed up reading, or watching TV. Old John Wayne movies were his refuge. He watched them so many times it was how the family came to call him Duke, after the star.

Actually, he hadn’t minded. The Duke set a good example for a gangly kid who longed to be easier in his skin than he was.

In the kitchen, he filled Zorro’s bowl with kibble and gave him fresh water, which about maxed out his energy in this really long day.

Taking a hot shower, he toweled off and crawled between cool sheets, and was oh-so-tempted to switch off his phone lest some new debacle in the normally placid town forced Dinah to roust him. Not that he’d ever shirk his duty on a job he took seriously—a job he loved. In fact if the town ever had money to hire a full-time deputy he’d lobby for the job.

He fell asleep speculating about what opinion Angie Barrington had for law officers. He’d pretty much left her today with the notion rodeo competitors were at the bottom of her list of desirable men.