Lone Star Lover

36—EDUCATING GINA

60—HANDS ON

112—ANYTHING GOES…

143—HE’S ALL THAT
*

159—GOOD TO BE BAD

183—A GLIMPSE OF FIRE

220—HOT SPOT
**

250—THE HONEYMOON THAT WASN’T

312—SLOW HAND LUKE

351—IF HE ONLY KNEW…
*

368—WHAT SHE
REALLY
WANTS FOR CHRISTMAS
†

417—ALL OR NOTHING

455—ONCE AN OUTLAW
††

467—ONCE A REBEL
††

491—TEXAS HEAT

509—TEXAS BLAZE

Jake spotted Harding’s white cruiser alongside the old brick building that housed the sheriff’s office. If not for that, he might have thought the place was closed. From the small tinted window, the light inside was dim and neither of the two deputies sat at the metal desk they shared. Normally at this time of the afternoon, the day guy would be pretending to write a report that would end his shift.

But here in this part of West Texas, there wasn’t much to report, with the exception of the rustling problem Jake had been called in to help with a few months back. The case had turned out bigger and more complicated than any of them had imagined when Sheriff Harding had first contacted the Texas Rangers looking for someone to work undercover.

Stealing cattle and selling them on the black market had turned out to be the least of the problem. As layers of the case were peeled away and arrests were made, it was clear the rustling was aimed at driving ranchers away from their land. Jake and Sheriff Harding had a pretty good idea who was behind the scheme. They just hadn’t proved it yet.

Progress had stalled. Between the court system and the sheriff’s slower-than-molasses approach, Jake was losing patience. He didn’t blame Harding. He was a decent guy, but too small-town to tackle a case of this magnitude. His deputies were okay, too, but basically a step or two above a rent-a-cop.

Generally that was good enough. Speeding and the occasional DUI were the worst of the crimes the small department faced. Sometimes the local kids got into a bit of trouble, but usually it was just a harmless prank. Nothing more serious than Jake himself had been mixed up with as a teenager, and it hadn’t kept him from joining the Rangers. Though he didn’t fool himself that his father and grandfather both having been part of the elite group contributed to his being accepted.

He opened the office door, causing the overhead bell to ring, the welcome blast of heat he’d anticipated absent. The place looked deserted. But then he heard Sheriff Harding’s familiar shuffle coming from his private office tucked in the corner.

In the next second, the big man appeared at the door, out of uniform, his puzzled frown transforming into an easy smile when he saw Jake. “What are you doing here?”

Jake shrugged. “I was out for a drive and figured I’d stop by to see if there’s anything new with the case.”

“That’s some drive. All the way from Houston.” He tossed a newspaper into a wastebasket. “To tell you the truth, this is the first time I’ve been in the office since last week.” He gestured toward a chair near the half-full coffeepot. “That brew’s about an hour old. You’re welcome to it.”

“Where are the other two?” Jake cocked his head toward the deputies’ desk before helping himself to a mug.

“Vacation. They’re taking turns being on call.”

Jake smiled wryly. Things sure were different the farther away from the city he got. He’d grown up in Houston, sometimes working on nearby ranches for extra money during the summer. The experience had helped him with his undercover work as a cowhand at the Double R, and for several months, he’d gotten quite a taste of rural life. At first he’d shaken his head at the laid-back attitudes and lack of sophistication of the folks who herded cows and mended fences. But he’d quickly come to respect their work ethic and dedication to family, something as foreign to him as vacationing on the French Riviera.

“So you got anything for me on Wellsley?” Jake eyed the thick black brew. He favored strong coffee but this looked more like motor oil.

“You best be careful bandying his name about. We don’t know for sure that he’s behind the rustling. Levi Dodd is the one the courts convicted of organizing the rustling. Last I heard, he’s keeping his trap shut tighter than a bull’s ass.”

Jake snorted. “West End swooped in to buy every square foot of abandoned land when the ranchers started bailing. Wellsley is not only the company’s CEO, but he’s a control freak who calls every shot. We both know he was willing to do anything for those mineral rights.”

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, but we still haven’t tied him to Levi Dodd.” Harding shook his head. “You ever do anything besides work?”

“Nope.”

“Well, son, us normal folks do.” The sheriff rolled a chair away from the desk and lowered his bulk onto the seat cushion. “I know you’re not married. Ever been?”

“Nope.”

“What did you do for Christmas?”

Jake laughed uneasily. “Why the interrogation?”

Harding shrugged his beefy shoulders. “We only worked together a few months but I like you, Malone. I hate to see you go down the same lonely path so many of our brothers in law enforcement have traveled.”

“Hey, better to go alone than drag a family through hell with you.” As soon as Jake had spouted off he’d regretted it. He knew Harding hadn’t known the illustrious Michael Malone personally, but the sheriff had been around long enough to have heard of Jake’s father.

The older man’s face softened. “Trust me, son, it doesn’t have to be hell. Once you have a family, you tend to shy away from taking so many chances.”

Okay, so the sheriff obviously hadn’t heard of Jake’s father. When it came to the job, a wife and two kids had meant nothing to the veteran Ranger. Until the day he died, the man had known no boundaries. His reckless pursuit of justice had, ironically, been damn near criminal. And in spite of the fact that he’d never had the chance to truly get to know him, Jake admired the hell out of the man. Respect, well, that was a whole different ball game.

He checked his watch. This trip had been for nothing. The case clearly was on hold, and the thing was, he was no longer officially involved, anyway. Not that he was going to back off. “Visited family.”

Harding frowned, as if he’d lost the thread of the conversation.

“For Christmas,” Jake said. “I visited family.” He gulped the last of the lukewarm coffee and stood. He didn’t want to be asked any more personal questions. Even if he were inclined to respond, the answers weren’t pretty.

He had his mother, who was a functioning drunk, and his older sister, now living in California, who he talked to maybe twice a year. She hadn’t married either, or wanted kids, or wanted anything to do with their mother. Blame was big in the Malone family. Lots to go around.

“What are you doing for New Year’s Eve tomorrow?” Harding asked, leaning back and rubbing a hand over the top of his thinning brown hair.

“Haven’t thought about it yet.”

“We’re having a small get-together at my house if you’re interested in stopping by. There’s an extra guest room so you wouldn’t have to drive all the way back to Houston.”

“Thanks, but I’ll be sticking close to home. Maybe I’ll go visit our friend Dodd.” Jake smiled. “I heard prison isn’t agreeing with him. He might be ready to make a deal.”

Harding didn’t look amused. “Leave it alone, Jake. We’ll revisit the case after the holidays.”

He lifted his hat, shoved back his hair and reset the Stetson on his head. Past time for a haircut, especially since he wasn’t working undercover right now. “I’ll check back in a week or two.”

“Good.” Harding pushed to his feet and followed Jake to the door. “In the meantime, try and enjoy the holidays.”

“You, too, Sheriff.” Jake tugged up his collar again before stepping onto the sidewalk. No use admitting he’d already seen Dodd. Harding wouldn’t like it, and to stay involved, Jake needed the sheriff’s blessing.

Dodd had remained uncooperative, but Jake knew he’d riled the shifty little man plenty, gave him a mess of nasty scenarios to think about. A few more days of Dodd looking over his shoulder, stewing over whether Wellsley had decided he was too much of a liability, and maybe Dodd would be more talkative when Jake paid him another visit.

Normally he wasn’t one to go behind a man’s back. This was Harding’s case, but he’d demonstrated that he didn’t have the stomach to go after Wellsley. The rustling had been stopped and that was enough for a man like Harding. Not for Jake, though. A lot of ranchers had been hurt and restitution was yet to be made. Besides, Jake had dealt with scumbags like Peter Wellsley before. Rich, powerful men, who thought they were above the law. He wasn’t going to get away with it. No matter what it took.