Iron Cowboy (2 page)

She stroked him while they watched the latest episode of her favorite forensic show. “I guess it's just as well that we're not overrun with visitors, Morris,” she mused softly. “You're definitely an antisocial personality.” She pursed her lips as she looked down at him. “I know a guy you'd like,” she added on a chuckle. “I must attract animals and people with bad attitudes.”

The end of the next week came all too soon. Dee had placed Jared Cameron's order on Monday. Sara was hoping the ogre's order wouldn't come in, allowing her a reprieve to work on her social skills. But all the books in the order arrived like clockwork on Friday.

She phoned the number Jared Cameron had given her.

“Cameron ranch,” came a gruff reply.

“Mr. Cameron?” she asked hesitantly, because this didn't sound like the man who'd come into the store earlier.

“He's not here,” a gravelly deep voice replied.

She pictured the face that would have gone with that voice, and figured it must be the hit man. “Mr…. Danzetta?”

There was a shocked pause. “Yeah. How'd you know?”

“I read minds,” she lied.

“No kidding?” He sounded as if he actually believed her.

“Mr. Cameron ordered a lot of books…”

“Yeah, he said they were due today. He said for you to bring them out tomorrow about ten. He'll be here.”

Tomorrow was Saturday, and she didn't work Saturdays. “Couldn't I leave them with you, and he can send us the check?”

“Tomorrow at ten, he said. He'll be here.”

There was no arguing with stone walls. She sighed. “Okay. I'll see him tomorrow.”

“Good.”

The line went dead. The voice had a decidedly Southern accent. Not a Texas accent. A Georgia one, if she were guessing. She had an ear for accents. Her grandfather had taught students from all over the country and around the world at the Jacobsville Community College, and he often brought them home. Sara had learned a lot about other places.

She put the phone down belatedly. If the bodyguard was part of the mob, it must be the Southern branch. She chuckled. But now she didn't know what to do. Should she call him tomorrow before she started out, to let him know how much he owed? Surely his bookkeeper didn't work weekends.

“You look unsettled,” Dee remarked as she started for the front door. “What's wrong?”

“I have to take the ogre's order out to him tomorrow morning.”

“On your day off.” Dee smiled. “You can have a half day next Wednesday to make up for it. I'll come in at noon and work until closing time.”

“You will?” Sara asked, beaming.

“I know how you look forward to your drawing time,” Dee replied. “I just know you're going to sell that children's book you're working on. Call Lisa Parks and tell her you'll come next Wednesday to draw her new puppies instead of tomorrow. They'll make a gorgeous page in your story,” she added.

Sara grinned. “They're the cutest puppies I've ever seen. Their father was one of the puppies Tom Walker's dog Moose fathered, and their mother is Cy Parks's collie, Bob.”

“Bob is a girl dog?” Dee exclaimed.

“Yes. The puppies look like both their parents. Tom asked for one of them. He lost Moose just last month,” she added sadly. “They have another dog a little younger than Moose, but Tom loved that old dog. He had him cremated and put in an urn. He's still grieving, though. Lisa e-mailed a picture of the puppies to Tom and said he could have one. He and his oldest daughter went over to pick it out. They'll be ready to go to new homes in a week or so. They're just precious at this age. I'm going to draw them in a big Easter basket.”

“You could sell drawings,” Dee said.

“I guess so. But I'd never make a living at it,” she replied, smiling. “I want to sell books.”

“I think you're going to be selling your own books pretty soon,” Dee told her. “You have a wonderful talent.”

Sara beamed. “Thanks. It's the only thing I inherited from my father. He loved the work he did, but he could draw beautiful portraits.” She grimaced. “It was hard, losing him like that.”

“Wars are terrible,” Dee agreed. “But at least you had your grandfather. He was your biggest fan. He was always bragging about you, to anybody who'd listen.”

“I still get letters from Grandad's former students,” Sara said. “He taught military history. I guess he had every book ever written on World War II. Especially the campaign in North Africa.” She frowned. “Funny, that's what the ogre likes to read about.”

“Maybe the ogre is like that lion who got a thorn in his paw, and when the mouse pulled it out, they were friends for life.”

Sara glowered at her boss. “No mouse in his right mind would go near that man,” she said.

“Except you,” came the amused reply.

“Well, I don't have a choice. What do we do about the check?” she asked Dee. “Do I call him before I go over there, or…”

Dee picked up the slip of paper with his phone number on it. “I'll call him in the morning. You can put the books in a bag and take them home with you tonight. That way you won't have to come in to town.”

“You're sweet, Dee.”

The older woman smiled. “So are you.” She checked her watch. “I've got to pick Mama up at the beauty parlor and take her home, then I'm going to do paperwork. You know my cell phone number. Call me if you need me.”

“I won't, but thanks all the same.”

Dee looked uneasy. “You need to have a cell phone, Sara. You can get a prepaid one for next to nothing. I don't like you having to drive home after dark on that dirt road.”

“Most of the drug traffickers are in prison now,” she reminded her boss.

“That isn't what Cash Grier says,” Dee replied. “They locked up the Dominguez woman, and her successor, but there's a man in charge now, and he killed two Mexican policemen at a border crossing, as well as a Border Patrol agent and even a reporter. They say he killed a whole family over near Nuevo Laredo for ratting on him.”

“Surely he wouldn't come here,” Sara began.

“Drug dealers like it here,” Dee returned. “We don't have federal agents—well, except for the DEA agent, Cobb, who works out of Houston and has a ranch here. Our police and sheriff's departments are underfunded and understaffed. That's why that man Lopez tried to set up a distribution network here. They say this new drug lord has property around town that he bought with holding companies, so nobody would know who really owned the land. A farm or ranch way out in the country would be a perfect place to transport drugs to.”

“Like they tried once, behind Cy Parks's place and at the old Johnson place.”

Dee sighed. “It makes me uneasy, that's all.”

“You worry too much,” Sara said gently. “Besides, I'm only a mile out of town and I lock all my doors.” She looked at the clock on the wall opposite. “You'd better get moving, or your mother's going to be worried about you!”

Dee chuckled. “I guess so. Well, if you need me…”

“I'll call.”

Dee went out with a wave, leaving Sara alone.

Later in the afternoon, Harley Fowler came in, dusty and sweaty and half out of humor. He pushed his hat back over wet hair.

“What in the world happened to you?” Sara exclaimed. “You look like you've been dragged down a dirt road behind a horse!”

He glowered. “I have.”

“Ouch,” she sympathized.

“I need a book on Spanish slang. Ranch Spanish slang, if you've got one.”

“We have every Spanish dictionary ever published, including slang ones. I'll show you.”

She pointed out a rack with dozens of paperback dictionaries, including specific books just on verbs.

“Just the thing,” Harley murmured, reading titles. “Mr. Parks still has an account, doesn't he?”

“He and Lisa both do.”

“Well, you can put these on his tab.” He picked out four and handed them to her.

“Would it be safe to ask why you want them?” she mused as she went behind the counter to the cash register.

“Why not?” he sighed. “I thought I was telling Lanita, Juan's wife, that it was hot outside. She blushed, Juan jumped me, and we rolled around in the dirt until I finally convinced him that I was just talking about the weather. We got up and shook hands, and then he told me what I'd actually said to her. I was just sick.” He groaned. “I speak a little Spanish, but I learned it in high school, and I've forgotten how
not
to say embarrassing things.” He groaned. “Juan and the rest of the workers speak English, but I thought I might get along better with them if I spoke a little Spanish. And this happens!”

She pursed her lips. “If you want to remark on the weather, in Spanish you say ‘there is heat,' not ‘I am hot.' Especially in front of a woman.”

“Thanks, I do know that now,” he replied, soothing his jaw. “That Juan hits like a mule kicking.”

“So I've heard.”

She totaled the books on the cash register and wrote down the tally in a book of accounts that Dee kept. “We'll bill Mr. Parks.”

“Thanks.” He took the bag with the books. “If Mr. Parks wants to argue about me buying them, I'll tell him to go talk to Juan.”

She grinned. “Good idea.”

He smiled back, and hesitated, as if he wanted to say something more. Just then, the phone rang, and it was one of her long-winded customers. She shrugged and waved at Harley. He waved back as he left. She wondered later what he'd been about to say.

He was handsome and well-known in the community for being a hardworking cowboy. He'd actually gone on a mission with three of the town's ex-mercenaries to help stop Manuel Lopez's drug-smuggling operation. He'd earned a lot of respect for his part in it. Sara liked him a lot, but he didn't date much. Rumor was that he'd had a real case on a local girl who'd made fun of his interest in her and threw him over. But he didn't look like a man with a broken heart.

Sara knew about broken hearts. She'd been sweet on a boy in the community college she attended to learn accounting. So had Marie, her best friend. The boy had dated both of them, but finally started going steady with Marie. A good loser, Sara had been maid of honor at their wedding. Marie and her new husband had moved to Michigan to be near his parents. Sara still wrote to Marie. She was too kindhearted to hold a grudge. Probably, she realized, the boy had only dated her because she was best friends with Marie. She recalled that he spent most of their time together asking her questions about Marie.

She was old-fashioned. Her grandfather had firm opinions about the morality deprived state of modern society. He and Sara went to church regularly and she began to share his views. She wasn't the sort of girl who got invited to wild parties, because she didn't drink or smoke or do drugs. Everyone knew that her grandfather was good friends with one of Police Chief Cash Grier's older patrol officers, too. Her law enforcement connections made the party crowd cautious. It also got around that Sara didn't “give out” on dates. There were too many girls who had no such hang-ups. So Sara and Morris spent most of their Friday and Saturday nights together with Sara's grandfather, watching movies on television.

She wondered where the ogre had gone, and why Tony the Dancer hadn't gone with him. Maybe he was off on a hot date somewhere. She wondered about the sort of woman who might appeal to a man with his gloomy outlook. But then she remembered that he'd been wearing an expensive suit, and driving a new truck, and he owned one of the bigger ranches in the county. Some women wouldn't mind how gloomy and antisocial he was, as long as he had lots of money to spend on them.

He did look like a cold fish. But maybe he was different around people he liked. He'd made it obvious that he didn't like Sara. The feeling was mutual. She hated having to give up her Saturday to his whim.

She phoned Lisa to tell her that she wouldn't be able to come until the following Wednesday.

“That's okay,” Lisa replied. “Cy and I wanted to take the baby to the mall in San Antonio on Saturday, but I was going to stay home and wait for you. There's lots of sales on baby clothes and toys.”

Like Lisa needed sales, when her husband owned one of the most productive ranches in Texas, she thought, but she didn't say it. “You're always buying that baby clothes,” Sara teased. “He's going to be the best-dressed little boy in town.”

“We go overboard, I know,” Lisa replied, “but we're so happy to have him. Cy and I took a long time to get over losing our first one.”

“I remember,” Sara said softly. “But birth defects turn up sometimes in the healthiest families, you know. I read about it in one of the medical books we sell. This little boy is going to grow up and be a rancher, just like his parents.”

Lisa laughed softly. “Thanks, Sara,” she said gently. “You make me feel better every time I talk to you.”