His Heart Is On The Line

Deputy sheriff and aspiring rodeo star Dylan “Duke” Adams has his hands full with the recent string of burglaries in Roundup, Montana, especially when the thief strikes at his family’s ranch. Duke is trying to focus on the case, but he can’t stop thinking about a different thief—the petite blonde who just stole his heart.

Angie Barrington can’t stand the rodeo. Though she’s seen plenty of abused rodeo animals at her rescue ranch, for Angie it runs even deeper. No matter how kind and compassionate Duke is, at the end of the day he’s still a cowboy. Right?

When Duke makes it to the national finals, he finally has a chance to bring prestige—and much-needed money—to Thunder Ranch. But if competing means losing the woman of his dreams, how can he ever win?

“Are you aware there are rumors floating around town,” Duke said carefully, “uh, connecting you to a top-tier bronc rider?”

Angie’s jaw dropped. Duke saw color splash her cheeks and he regretted saying anything at all.

“The man wants nothing to do with us.” Angie scraped back her hair with one hand, showing her irritation. “I have no idea where he even is,” she said with fierce finality. But her eyes filled with such a deep sadness that Duke, uncharacteristically, stepped close and wrapped her in a hug.

For a moment, Angie melted against Duke’s broad chest. She felt soft and feminine in his arms. But just when he thought she was going to pull him closer, she cleared her throat nervously and squirmed away.

Considering how flustered Angie looked now, Duke thought he probably ought to opt out of joining them for supper tonight. But Angie lit fires in him like no woman had before.

And whether she realized it or not, he suspected the feeling was mutual.

Dear Reader,

Linked stories done by a group of authors are a lot of fun to write. While it involves weeks of getting to know one another’s characters and writing styles, the collaboration experience is great. I was lucky enough to know nearly all six authors who share the Harts of Rodeo books, and I always snap up their books knowing they will be good reading. My hope is that all of our readers will love the cowboys/cowgirls in the Hart family and the people they fall in love with as much as we do.

I had a great time working with my fellow authors on this miniseries, and I’d like to thank Cathy McDavid, C.J. Carmichael, Shelley Galloway, Marin Thomas and Linda Warren for making the experience so wonderful. Be sure to follow the series with Shelley’s book, Austin: Second Chance Cowboy, which is available in October.

I love hearing from all my readers. You can contact me by email at rdfox@cox.net, or by letter at 7739 E. Broadway Blvd #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941.

Sincerely,

Roz

Duke: Deputy Cowboy

Roz Denny Fox

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roz saw her first book, Red Hot Pepper, published by Harlequin Books in February 1990. She’s written for several Harlequin series, as well as online serials and special projects. Besides being a writer, Roz has worked as a medical secretary and as an administrative assistant in both an elementary school and a community college. Part of her love for writing came from moving around with her husband during his tenure in the Marine Corps and as a telephone engineer. The richness of settings and the diversity of friendships she experienced continue to make their way into her stories. Roz enjoys corresponding with readers either via email, rdfox@cox.net, or by mail (7739 E. Broadway Blvd #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941). You can also check her website, www.Korynna.com/RozFox.

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Over the course of my writing career I’ve dedicated a book to almost everyone in my family except, I discovered, my two grandsons. Through nothing I did, there are two characters in these continuity books by the names of Austin and Evan—which are my grandsons’ names. I’m not sure they’ve read any of my stories to date, but I’m counting on them being enlightened enough one day to feel good about reading a romance.

So Duke: Deputy Cowboy is for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Recipe

Excerpt

Chapter One

Dylan “Duke” Adams drove through the silent, shuttered town of Roundup, Montana, in the wee hours of Monday morning, headed home from a summer-weekend rodeo in Wyoming. Because he also served as Roundup’s part-time deputy sheriff he eyed businesses along the main street to see they were locked up tight and that side streets were vacant of anyone up to mischief.

Although, the problems of late that he and his cousin Sheriff Dinah Hart dealt with weren’t in-town robberies, but worrisome break-ins at outlying ranches.

He’d driven by himself to the rodeo in Sheridan. His twin brother, Beau, and cousin Colt Hart had both gone on to events in other states. Duke had earned good points in Wyoming despite the rank bull he’d drawn. And he felt great. If he made the National Finals Rodeo and won, it’d mean added prestige for him as a champion bull rider and would enhance business for the family ranch.

Still, his ride hadn’t been perfect and Beau nagged him to ride midweek in Custer, South Dakota. Beau nagged a lot. He knew Duke had promised Dinah he’d get home to help investigate the string of ranch burglaries piling up—too many for comfort.

Zorro, Duke’s German shepherd named for his black face mask, snored away in the backseat of Duke’s pickup. The Ford’s engine growled as Duke turned down an alley, a shortcut to his parking space outside his ground-floor apartment. As if sensing the change in the engine’s tempo, Zorro sat up, yawned and licked Duke’s ear.

“Easy, boy, we’re almost home.” Duke reached back to rub Zorro’s ears and immediately winced. He’d forgotten about the injury he’d sustained when he couldn’t release his bull rope quickly enough on his final bull. His fingers felt puffier now than when he’d left Sheridan. He should ice his hand down again, but, man, was he beat.

Pocketing his keys, Duke collected his duffel of dirty clothes and emptied it straight into the washer on his way through his back door. He stopped in the kitchen to draw Zorro a bowl of fresh water before heading to his bedroom where he stripped and jumped into a hot shower. Still damp, he fell into bed. Seconds later he heard Zorro pad in and settle on his dog bed. Almost at once the pet Duke had raised from a pup began to snore like a freight train. Duke rolled over, feeling his mind and body relax.

* * *

DUKE JOLTED OUT OF A SOUND sleep as his cell phone blared an obnoxious tune Beau had programmed into his phone as a joke. He patted the nightstand then recalled leaving the phone in the pocket of the jeans he’d kicked off at the foot of his bed. The room was black as spades. Zorro bounded up, barking his fool head off, making locating the phone more chaotic.

Shushing him, Duke scrabbled around hunting for his pants. He hit his sore hand on the bedside table and swore roundly. The bedside clock said 4:45 a.m. He’d slept for maybe two hours, he thought, digging out the noisy instrument at last. Any call at this hour meant trouble. “ ’Lo,” he rasped, doing his best to clear his foggy head.

“Duke, sorry to bother you. I’m sure you got in late from the rodeo.”

“Dinah?” He yawned in her ear. “It’s okay. Where are you at this unholy hour? Who’s that yakking in the background?”

“I’m at the ranch. There’s been another break-in.”

“What ranch?”

“Thunder Ranch,” she said. “Aunt Sarah set her alarm for 4:15 a.m. to check on a pregnant mare that’s had trouble. She found the barn doors open, called your dad, and Uncle Josh saw how the thieves went in through the back.”

“What’s missing this time?” Duke asked.

“More saddles. A couple of new bridles Beau crafted. None were as sentimental or expensive as Dad’s saddle these damn thieves made off with before, but bad all the same.”

“Dang, Dinah, Beau will be sick. He intended to sell the bridles at the Roundup rodeo.”

“Yeah, well, there’s worse—the horse is gone. Can you come help me calm the family and look for clues? As you might imagine, it’s bedlam here.”

“I’ll be right there.” Duke dug underwear out of his dresser drawer as he digested Dinah’s words. “You mean someone stole the pregnant mare?”

“No, the stallion. Midnight. He’s not in the pen behind the barn where Ace put him, or anywhere else that we can find. Ace had separated him from Fancy Gal because Midnight had a cough, and she’s with foal. He didn’t want to risk a chance of her miscarrying.”

“Holy horsefeathers!” Duke hopped around on one foot, tugging on clean jeans. “Is that my dad, Ace and Aunt Sarah arguing?”

Dinah lowered her voice further. “Yes. Ace is still peeved that Mom backed Colt’s decision to enter Midnight in rodeos. He called Colt on the circuit and read him the riot act. Ace thinks putting Midnight out there to buck will let people see his worth.”

Duke rifled through his closet for an official work shirt. “I’ll grant you the stallion is worth a mint, Dinah. But the thieves are stupid to take such an identifiable horse.”

“I’ll let you tell Ace that,” she said, sounding unhappy.

“Hang on. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, even though he was dead on his feet.

Typical of Dinah, she said, “Don’t break speed limits.”

Duke signed off, pinned on his badge, loaded Zorro and jumped in his truck. As far as he knew this was the first time there had been a second break-in at any ranch. The first burglary at Thunder Ranch, pricy items were taken, along with small implements. The full cost wasn’t covered by insurance. And the premiums went up. A saddle of Beau’s turned up at a secondhand shop way over in Butte. The shop owner identified the piece from photos Duke and Dinah had circulated on the internet. He didn’t know who sold him the saddle. He assumed it came from a down-on-his-luck rodeo cowboy.

Duke reached the ranch in time to hear Ace connect with Beau in South Dakota and ask him to check on new bucking entries.

“Stay,” Duke ordered Zorro, and the dog dropped to his belly. Duke interrupted Ace with an exaggerated whisper. “Did Dinah tell you I think it’d be dumb for thieves to enter a well-known horse like Midnight on the national rodeo circuit? Maybe in Podunk rodeos, though,” Duke added, giving the matter a second thought.

Ace ended his call. “You may be right, Duke. Colt said something similar when I laced into him. He called Leah back and said he wished he could come home and help us hunt for Midnight. He can’t. This trip, he and Royce are hauling our bucking stock to two more rodeos, and he knows we need the money.”

Duke glanced around at the milling family. Leah and Colt lived on the property in a double-wide mobile home they’d bought a few weeks ago, until they could afford to build a house. She worked as the ranch accountant. Colt, at the ripe age of thirty-two, same as Duke, had fallen head over heels in love with Leah Stockton, a woman he hadn’t seen since high school—a divorcée with two kids. Their love affair sent ripples through the family, but was nothing compared to Colt’s other bombshell—a confession he had a son he’d never told his mom, his brothers or anyone in the family about. Duke hated those kinds of family upsets.

The mobile home sat a ways from the house and barns, so Leah or the kids likely wouldn’t have heard anything, he figured.

Ace, too, had recently married and moved off the ranch. He and Flynn rented Flynn’s dad’s house. Duke glanced around, trying to re-create the scene. He saw Leah and Flynn, who’d finally begun to look pregnant, deep in conversation with Dinah. His aunt Sarah leaned against the small corral, talking to his dad. Another ranch hand, Gracie, strode away. She probably had chores to start. Duke thought his aunt looked really pale. “Hey, Aunt Sarah, do you have coffee at the house? I didn’t get in until 3:00 a.m. I could use some to prop open my eyes.”

She perked up as if she needed a mission. “A coffee break will do us all good, Duke. It’ll take only a few minutes to brew a pot. I’ll bring out a tray when it’s done. Leah, do you want me to take Jill and Davey up to the house and feed them breakfast?”

“Oh, please,” Leah said, looking grateful. “I saw them peering out the window, wondering what’s going on. I’ll go get the kids right now.”

Spotting Duke, Dinah strode over. “I’m furious at whoever did this. At first I thought it was a sloppy break-in. But they used saddle blankets to cover the interior barn camera and the perimeter one. Our saddle blankets, which they stole last time. This time they took Mom’s carved wooden toolbox. Something scared them off before they could load the horse head sculpture. But they moved it to the door.”

“Are there tire tracks?”

“No. It hasn’t rained in a while. If it’d been last month during our deluge, tracks would be easy to spot and follow.”

“Have you phoned neighbors?”

“I decided to wait until more were up, but I’ll do it now. I didn’t see the sense in rousting neighbors from their beds. Everyone’s been on alert, so if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious I’m confident they would have called in.”

“I suppose. But the last break-in was a month ago. Enough time for people to let down their guard. And this time they had to pull a horse trailer. I know most folks wouldn’t notice if a rig with a trailer passed, but some might wonder at the hour. When do you figure the break-in happened?”

“Between when Ace looked in on the mare around eleven last night and 4:15 a.m. when Mom came out.” Dinah opened a case folder, took out her phone and started making calls.

Duke followed Ace into the ranch office where he said Midnight’s papers were filed. Ace had kept a list of everyone who’d bid on the horse at auction. Several ranchers wanted Midnight. Ace and Earl McKinley had actively bid against each other.

“We know everyone on this list,” Ace said. “Some have had their ranches hit.”

“What about Earl? He wanted Midnight almost more than you and Aunt Sarah. Everyone knows there was a rivalry with Uncle John. Could Earl be behind this?”

Flynn, Ace’s wife, who had come up behind the men without either of them hearing her, exclaimed angrily, “I can’t believe you would accuse my father of stooping so low, Duke Adams! He’s honest to a fault, and that rivalry ended when John died. Besides, Dad has moved to Billings.”

“Sorry. I knew that, Flynn. It’s just these robberies are a black mark against Dinah and me, and no horse has been stolen before. The first few break-ins we chalked up to kids. Now I think they’re too clever by far.”

Dinah joined them, and Sarah brought in coffee. “I’m taking these thefts personally,” Dinah declared, setting down her folder to accept a steaming mug. “So far every theft has been in my jurisdiction.”

“There must be something we’ve missed,” Duke muttered, also claiming a mug. “I know Colt thought taillights at the first robbery here were a Dodge pickup. But half the trucks around are Rams.” Duke sat at the desk with his coffee and opened Dinah’s file. He sifted through pages of her notes. “They rob in our county, but unload their goods halfway across the state. I take it you reached all the neighbors along Thunder Road?”

“All but Rob Parker,” Dinah said. “According to his wife, he left before sunup to deliver hay to his leased acreage across town. She’ll have him call when he returns.”

Duke turned to a clean sheet of paper. “Meanwhile, let’s take an inventory.”

They worked until noon, rechecking everything in the office, tack room, feed storage and barns, relying on Sarah, Ace and Josh Adams to say what all was missing. Winding down, Sarah and Leah insisted they break for lunch. They all trudged into the big ranch kitchen where the women assembled sliced meat, cheese, bread and tossed a fresh salad while Duke, Ace, Josh and another of the hired hands went back outside to walk every inch of ground from behind the barn where the thieves broke in, to the highway and along the ditches to see if they’d overlooked any small thing.

They hadn’t, and it was a glum crew who ate in silence, except for Leah’s kids, who chased around with Zorro, giggling and having a good time.

Pushing back, Duke stacked his plate with others who’d finished eating. Standing, he said, “Ace, if you have photos of Midnight, I’ll make flyers to blanket the area and post a missing-horse notice on the ranch website.”

Leah left the children with Sarah and excused herself to go pay some bills. Duke’s dad and Flynn drifted away. Josh had a stake in the ranch, but rarely ventured an opinion unless directly solicited. Duke wished he related to his dad better, but the truth was his twin and their dad had the better rapport.

Duke gathered the photos and prepared to leave just as Rob Parker phoned Dinah. Being up almost eleven hours straight, plus eating, had made Duke so rummy he missed most of Dinah’s conversation with the neighbor.

When she clicked off, she beckoned him over. “I had to pull this bit of information out of Rob. He noticed a black horse standing in a field with a donkey and a sorrel mare with a blaze face at Barrington Rescue Ranch. The sun was in his eyes, so he couldn’t tell the black’s gender. It could be Midnight.”

“Angie Barrington wouldn’t steal Midnight,” Sarah declared. “I volunteer a couple of mornings a week at her shelter. Angie is as sweet as can be. Duke, you’ve seen her and her son at our Family Friendship Church. She’s passionate about saving injured animals, but she’d never steal one.”

Ace spoke up. “I treat some of her rescue animals, and I agree with Mom about Angie’s integrity.”

Dinah twisted her hair off her neck. “It’s well-known Midnight was difficult to settle when you first got him, Ace. Integrity or not, I’ve heard Angie thinks all rodeo animals are mistreated. Duke, I need to head back to the office. You go to Barrington’s and have a look around. If you need a warrant for access, call and I’ll bring one out.”

Duke hesitated. He did often accompany his aunt to church, so he’d seen Angie there and in town. He mostly ran into the petite blonde at the feed or tack stores, and he found her attractive—really attractive. But he’d die before he would admit that to any of his family. He had heard from guys on the rodeo circuit about Angie’s aversion to rodeo riders. Rumor suggested a big-name Texas bronc champion wanted to marry her, but she’d dumped him because he used spurs when he rode. Locals laughed, insisting the joke was on her when she discovered she was pregnant and the guy refused to marry her. Duke didn’t know how much of the gossip was true. Crazy stories made their way around the circuit, and were often embellished and retold until no one knew the real truth.

Still, his palms grew sweaty at the notion of waltzing up to knock on Angie Barrington’s door. “I didn’t get much sleep, Dinah. Can’t you as easily swing past Angie’s ranch?”

“I could, but Cliff West, who is printing T-shirts for our sponsorship of the rodeo’s Wild Pony Race, called to say he has one shirt ready for me to approve. He closes early today, so I need to get going and stop there on my way to the office.”

Duke slowly released a pent-up breath. “Oh, fine. I’ll go by Barrington’s after I hunt up Aunt Sarah and give her some money from the event I won in Sheridan.”

“Hey, hey, you won again? Good going,” Ace said, slapping Duke’s back. “That ought to leave you sitting in great contention for the finals.”

Duke grinned. “Yep. Beau thinks I should hit the next couple of rodeos with him, but he can be such a mother hen, always pushing me to pile up more points.”

Ace and Duke fell to discussing bull riding, and Dinah took off. Spotting his aunt emerging from Leah and Colt’s mobile home, Duke flagged her down.

She accepted his money on behalf of the ranch, but looked glum all the same. “With Midnight gone, staying afloat until we get some foals will be difficult. I don’t have to tell you we paid too much for him, and counted on recouping enough from his foals to pay his loan and then some.”

“We’ll find Midnight, Aunt Sarah. A horse isn’t hockable like saddles or small ranch implements.”

“You’re right. It’s...just that you’re all such good kids, you deserve pieces of this ranch one day. I can’t believe John wasn’t a better steward,” she said, bringing up her husband, who everyone in the valley had thought was an astute rancher, but who’d turned out not to be.

“Please don’t worry,” Duke said. “Well, I’d better go see about the black horse Rob Parker saw at the Barrington ranch.”

“If it is Midnight, he broke out and somehow got into Angie’s field, Duke, so give her a chance to explain.”

“I will.” He hugged her briefly, whistled for Zorro, who’d found a spot to lie in the shade, loaded him and left. Duke hadn’t the faintest idea how to broach the subject of the horse theft with Angie. He had never been at ease around women he admired. Angie Barrington was no exception.

Scant minutes later, he stared into a fiery sun sinking between mountains to the west as he drove down Angie’s lane. He kept an eye out for a black horse, but didn’t see any animals until he neared her modest ranch house, where chickens scattered at the sound of his truck. Like many older ranch homes, Angie’s lane ended at her back door. As a rule visitors went first into the kitchen, the gathering place for rural folks.

Crawling out of his cab, Duke made his way to the house. The door was propped open. He could see Angie working in her kitchen through the screen. He patted Zorro’s head, took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the house siding.

* * *

ANGIE MADE AND SOLD horse treats for extra cash. She had a batch ready to come out of the oven and another prepared to go in when she heard a knock. Assuming it was someone dropping off a stray animal, she called, “The screen isn’t locked, come on in.” The hinges squeaked, and Angie glanced up from scooping hot cookies off a large cookie sheet. For a second she was dumbstruck at seeing Dylan Adams poke his ruggedly handsome face into her house. The angle of his cowboy hat hid his eyes, but Angie knew they were a velvety-brown.

“Ma’am,” he mumbled, causing all manner of irrational thoughts to run through Angie’s addled brain as he swept off his black cowboy hat and gave directions to a big dog to stay outside. Then the man himself stepped inside, seeming to shrink her already small kitchen with his broad shoulders and six-foot height.

She had observed him often at church with his aunt, Miss Sarah Hart. And she sometimes spotted him at the feed store or heading in or out of Austin Wright’s Western Wear and Tack Shop where she sold some of her horse cookies. She thought Dylan Adams was a hunk. And just now he caused waves of heat to sizzle up from her toes.

Mercy, what was he doing here, filling up her kitchen? Grandpa Barrington, from whom she’d inherited her ranch, spoke often of the Hart dynasty. Ace Hart was Angie’s vet, and Miss Sarah volunteered to feed and groom her small animals. Colt and his sister, Dinah Hart, and even the cousins, Dylan and Beau Adams, traveled in different circles from Angie. All were hotshot rodeo jocks, and Angie had long since seen through that veneer.

However, of all the clan, Dylan, whom Ace and Austin called Duke, intrigued her. He seemed nice. At church he came across as a gentleman. Truthfully, he was one of the few men near her age in the area that Angie gave a second look. And here she was, up to her elbows in oats and apples, hot, sticky, her hair in a braid—not the impression she’d prefer projecting to a man known to give her heart a hitch and a half.

Recovering enough to close her mouth, Angie quickly slid the remaining cookies off the sheet, shucked her oven mitts and set them aside. “I...ah...assume you’ve brought me some kind of a stray,” she said, fussing with her braid. “If you’ll give me a minute to bag the cool cookies so they don’t get too hard, and deal with a tray due out of the oven in two minutes, I’ll join you outside and see what you’ve got.”

To keep from thinking about how he might judge her messy kitchen and her, Angie set to work bagging and sealing the treats. It crossed her mind that Dylan acted a tad flustered, which surprised her, because he always appeared quiet and collected.

* * *

DUKE FELT AWKWARD INVADING this feminine space. Not that he didn’t cook, he did. And he’d helped out in his aunt’s kitchen, and Dinah’s, too. But this was Angie Barrington’s kitchen. She had frilly curtains at her windows. And her head didn’t reach his shoulder. In a lot of ways she reminded him of Kelly Ripa on TV, except Angie’s hair usually hung below her waist. Today, without makeup and with her hair braided down her back, she looked about half his age when he knew darned well she was twenty-nine. His friend Austin Wright had shared that information. Duke often saw her entering Austin’s shop, so he’d asked if they were dating. His friend denied it so fast, Duke believed him. Austin said their dealings were all business.

“I’m not in any rush, so take your time.” Tired as he was, Duke stretched the truth. Still feeling uncomfortable on the unfamiliar turf, he rolled his hat in his hand and moved closer to her kitchen counter, watching as she placed a gold-and-black logo seal on packages filled with six treats. “Our horses out at Thunder Ranch love these things. I buy them by the case at Austin Wright’s shop. I’ve seen them sell like hotcakes at the feed store, too.”

“That’s good news. It’s a recipe I found in my grandmother’s recipe box after I moved here. The side business helps defray rescue expenses. Cookie sales are picking up. I’m considering expanding and hopefully hiring help, so I’m glad your horses love them.” She flashed him a smile.

“I didn’t bring you an animal,” Duke blurted; his knees melted under her smile, but he owed her an explanation for barging into her home. “There’s been another ranch break-in at Thunder Ranch. It’s their second.”

“Oh, I noticed you were wearing your badge. So, you’re out informing neighbors? It’s lucky I guess that everyone knows I don’t have anything worth taking.”

Duke didn’t know how to tell her that one of her neighbors said she might possess a stolen horse. “Ma’am,” he began, pausing as he fiddled with his hat. “At this ranch invasion thieves made off with an expensive horse.”

Angie glanced up, plainly startled. Just as she was about to speak, the screen door banged open and in ran an out-of-breath, sandy-haired, freckle-faced, gap-toothed boy. Excited, the kid stabbed a finger toward the door. “Wh-whose p-pickup and n-neat dog?” he stuttered. “Is it my dad?”

“Lucas, what on earth...!” Angie flushed.

The boy’s query had Duke stepping more fully into view. He had moved aside to avoid getting plowed into. The kid’s question gave him pause, since all of the gossip Duke had heard indicated the boy’s father wasn’t now or ever had been in the picture.

“Luke, the pickup and dog belong to Deputy Adams, and he’s here on business.”

The boy spun and squinted up at Duke. “Mom, he’s who brought f-fly-yers to my Sunday-school class.” The boy’s excited words exploded in a rush. “You know...’viting kids to be in the wild p-pony race. Did you s-s-sign me up, Mom?”

Pursing her lips, Angie turned at the sound of the oven timer and bent to retrieve two more sheets of cookies. “That’s not why Deputy Adams is here. I haven’t committed to letting you be in that race, Lucas. Besides, it takes three to make up a team.”

“You should sign him up,” Duke said, smiling at the boy he felt sympathy for. Duke knew what stuttering was like. He’d been plagued by the problem himself as a youngster, and it still hurt to think about the humiliation of it.

“The Wild Pony Race is good, all-around fun,” he said, addressing Angie. “For the past three years the sheriff’s office has sponsored the race, which is why I distributed entry packets to various kid groups.”

Angie eyed her son with a heavy heart. He had started stuttering last year in first grade. The truth was he got teased a lot, and he hadn’t made friends as she had hoped. “We don’t have close neighbors,” she said for Duke’s benefit. “During the school year I clerk in the elementary-school office. Between that, the escalating horse-cookie business and my rescues, I don’t have a lot of time for Luke to make playdates. You may recall that my grandfather was ill for some time. His care, the shelter and raising Lucas added up to more than a full-time job.” She fussed at the counter full of cookies. Moving the bowl of those still unmade, she said a bit stiffly to her visitor, “Thank you for the community update.” Her gaze cut again to her son.

Duke could see she didn’t want to worry the boy by mentioning the break-ins. “Uh, I never got around to telling you exactly why I’m here,” he said after clearing his throat. “Today a neighbor reported seeing a black horse in one of your fields. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a look around, since the horse fits the description of the stallion missing from Thunder Ranch.”

“You think I...?” She broke off to brace her hands on her hips. “Listen, Deputy Adams, if that stallion is in one of my fields, he got there without my knowledge. The only black horse I have is an old gelding Carl Peterson found wandering along the road outside his fence line. Obviously the horse got too old to serve any purpose to his former owner, except to cost him for feed. So they turned him out to fend for himself. That’s happening more and more in these down economic times.”

Duke frowned. “That’s terrible.” He realized Angie hadn’t said someone left the horse to die, but that’s what she meant. “I can’t believe the insensitivity of some animal owners. Those kinds of fools shouldn’t be allowed to own a horse,” he ended emphatically.

“I’m glad you feel that way,” Angie said. She reached over and shut off her oven, then put the uncooked dough in a walk-in pantry. “I’ll finish baking after I give you the grand tour of Barrington Rescue Ranch, Deputy.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Duke held open the screen and stepped back to let Angie and her son pass. “Call me Dylan, or Duke,” he said. “We do see each other at church and around town.”

“It’s a deal, if you stop calling me ma’am. Angie will do.”

“I l-like Luke, better than Lucas,” the boy said, bouncing along. “Your d-dog sni-niffed my hand,” he stuttered. “Wh-what’s his name?”

“Zorro. Have you seen the movie? Zorro wore a black mask, and my German shepherd has the same look about him.”

“Yep,” the boy said, squinting up at the tall man. “Hey, w-we rhyme, Duke and Luke. Isn’t that c-cool, Mom?” Luke said, giving a little hop.

She darted a sidelong glance at the man walking next to her, and found it charming how he grinned and tousled her son’s impossible cowlick. Her grandfather had been the only man in Luke’s life from the day he was born. Gramps doted on Luke until the old man took sick. His passing had been a blow to her and Luke—quite possibly harder on him. Still, Angie didn’t want to make too much of Dylan Adams’s show of kindness toward her fatherless child, even though his whole demeanor sparked a warm spot in the center of her chest. A man like that was worth a lot.

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.

Chapter Three

Duke woke up with sun streaming in his bedroom window, and he felt happily refreshed. Fading from his sleep-logged mind—an appealing picture of Angie Barrington smiling at him as she leaned over a corral feeding her horse treats to the magnificent, now-missing black stallion, Midnight.

He planted his feet on the floor and almost landed on Zorro, who lay not on his bed but on Duke’s bedside rug, something the dog had done as a pup before Duke bought him his own big, soft bed.

“Sorry, Zorro,” he muttered, hopping over the yawning animal to rummage in his closet. He gave up and retrieved a wrinkled shirt out of the dryer. Doing laundry was at the top of his hate list. If it wasn’t so expensive he’d drop everything at Jeff Woods’s Dry Cleaners. He knew plenty of single cowboys who did. Their jeans and shirts were always pressed and neat. But his part-time job covered rent, food and gas. Since the ranch fell on harder times, those in the family who finished in the money at rodeos, which was almost all of them, contributed what they could toward the ranch. His aunt juggled expenses. She had leased out some prime grazing land. In this part of the country, land was gold. Unfortunately empty acres didn’t put money in the bank.

When he wasn’t on duty he always wore jeans and black T-shirts. The family teased him for that quirk, too. But he liked black and it was a matter of convenience. Now he stopped to wonder if Angie would find him dull because he didn’t gravitate to flamboyant Western shirts like most other cowboys wore.

Still mulling that over in the kitchen, Duke opened the fridge and discovered his milk had gone sour. He spat in the sink a few times, dumped the carton and washed the smelly stuff down the drain. He settled for a breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, and drank water.

Suddenly, for no real reason, he remembered telling Angie he’d find a couple of kids for her to vet as possible pony-race partners for Luke. He got out the church directory and ran down the list of members as he ate. None of the families listed who had kids the right age jumped out at him.

Rethinking yesterday’s conversation with Angie, Duke wasn’t 100 percent certain he wouldn’t be wasting his time. She sure didn’t seem thrilled about the idea of Luke entering. Duke felt slightly guilty at the thought that he’d volunteered so it’d give him a reason to contact Angie again.

Was that pathetic? He needed an excuse to phone or approach a woman that interested him? If it was Colt—well, Colt before he got married—or Beau, those guys were never shy when it came to chatting up attractive women.

Polishing off his breakfast, Duke rinsed the dishes and the pan he’d used to scramble eggs, and put them in the dishwasher.

He tidied up and still found himself replaying comments Angie’s son had made about his dad. Angie had cut the boy off quick enough. But Luke kept pressing. Duke wondered if that might make Angie reconsider getting back together with the guy. How similar was her case to Colt’s having a kid he had no part in raising—a boy now almost a teen? Colt paid support, and just recently decided he’d like a relationship with his son—Evan was his name, who had a stepdad. Man, relationships could get messy.

Having told Dinah he’d be at the office early, Duke grabbed his hat and whistled to Zorro. He could speculate from now to kingdom come and still have no answers as to the real situation between Angie and her son’s birth daddy. And the truth of the matter was he had more to worry about than the Barringtons’ family situation. He had a string of robberies, the most recent of which left his family missing a very pricey horse. He locked the apartment and drove into town.

* * *

MONDAY NIGHT LUKE HAD RATTLED on nonstop—and he started in again this morning—begging Angie to sign him up for the Wild Pony Race. She was glad Dylan Adams had been discreet in volunteering to hunt up an age-appropriate team in case he didn’t find one. The deputy might even forget. He may only have used it as a cover because he’d all but accused her of horse thievery. Someone driving along the road saw her old black horse and told the sheriff, he claimed. But it was embarrassing to think anyone who knew her would even suggest dishonesty in any way, shape or form.

The sheriff probably had to be tough to get elected to that job. Angie only ever saw Dinah Hart at a distance or driving her patrol vehicle. They were about the same age, Angie knew from something Austin Wright said. Well, it didn’t matter how many townspeople thought she’d steal a horse, she never would.

And none of that addressed the issue of her allowing Lucas to chase off after some wild pony during a rodeo—which brought up another point. It pained her to think her grandfather had gone counter to her express wishes to not tell Luke anything about his father.

Angie considered Carter Gray a sperm donor at best, and a reluctant one at that. As if she’d gotten pregnant on purpose to hold on to him—to tie him down. He’d pursued her for a year, not the other way around. Oh, who cared? It was all ancient history. Carter had wanted a cook, a housekeeper and a bedmate was all. He hadn’t wanted a wife and he sure as heck never wanted a child. Gramps knew that. It must have had something to do with how ill he’d been with pneumonia last winter. Sick enough for the fever to let him ramble. So sick, a third round of antibiotics didn’t cure him.

How could she in good conscience blame a sick man, who in her hour of desperate need had opened his home and his heart to her and her unborn child? The answer was, she couldn’t. She’d have to negotiate Luke’s questions about his dad as best she could. It was just a shame the seed had been planted to make him want something that could never be.

“Mom!” Luke raced into the kitchen from the living room where he’d asked to eat his breakfast cereal while watching TV. “Guess what. Guess what,” he shouted.

Angie sighed. “What, Luke?” Of late he never went anywhere at less than a run, and he couldn’t seem to talk without his voice bouncing off the ceiling. The one positive thing she had noticed: when it was the two of them alone, he stuttered less. Angie continued to mix cookies. She had one more batch to bake to fill the last of her orders in town. As well she hoped to make another batch to sell at the roadside stand out at the county road along with her tree-ripened apples, farm-fresh eggs and an excess of summer squash. Every little bit extra she earned helped pay growing food costs for her rescued animals.

“On TV they have p-p-pictures of last year’s Wild P-pony Race. Come quick and see how fun it’ll be.”

His eyes glowed with excitement, so she couldn’t ignore his request. She followed him to where, sure enough, kids about his age in jeans, plaid shirts with numbers on their backs, and some wearing hats too big for their heads, were clinging to a long rope hooked to a pony’s hackamore. The children were being dragged through dust and dirt and, heavens, in some cases, mud. Oh, boy, this was not a ringing endorsement for something she wanted her young son to do.

“And Duke and his dog are there. S-see, Mom? Duke grabbed the pony and s-s-stopped him. The other g-guy said to win, one of the three kids has gotta get on the pony before he crosses that wh-white line.”

In his excitement, Luke talked too fast, and so began to stutter some.

“C-can I please sign up? Please, Mom!”

Angie loved him so much. But seeing the arena with lanky cowboys ringing the corral, hearing the roar of the rodeo crowd sent her reeling back to when watching the slapping, hitting, prodding of animals to get them to run, to buck or perform sickened her. Back to a time when the man who she thought loved her had promised to quit the rodeo circuit even though he never had the slightest intention of doing so. All of it caused Angie’s head to spin.

“We’ll see, Luke,” she said, wishing she lived in a town that didn’t live, eat, sleep and breathe rodeo. “I need to ask more questions, and really find out how safe it is before I’ll agree.” She felt relieved to see the station had gone on to show a row of booths at the fair portion of the weeklong affair. All the same, it hurt her to watch the slump of Luke’s skinny shoulders, and see him plop down in dejection, the light extinguished from his eyes.

* * *

DUKE SHOVED OPEN THE DOOR to the sheriff’s office with the elbow connected to his injured hand as he juggled two cups of hot coffee he’d picked up at the convenience store on his way into town. The office he shared with Dinah was little more than a hole in the wall large enough for two desks and a divided jail cell stretched side by side across the back. Two three-drawer filing cabinets separated the desks, and a few Wanted posters hung off a corkboard attached to one wall. Early as it was, Dinah already sat at her computer, but her desk was also strewn with papers, and there were telltale signs she’d already eaten a Snickers bar.

“Oh, I could kiss you,” she said, jumping up to relieve Duke of one steaming foam cup. She bumped his hand and he drew back with a moan.

“What did you do?” She narrowed her eyes at his still-swollen hand.

“Don’t tell Ace or my dad. I wrapped the bull rope too tight and couldn’t release it fast enough at the end of my eight-second ride. The bull whipped me around. I’m lucky it didn’t yank my elbow or shoulder out of a socket.”

“Will this injury jeopardize your point standing? Do you have to scratch an event?”

“No. It feels better today and my next rodeo isn’t until the weekend. I see you’re reviewing previous robberies. Anything new? Anyone call the tip line?”

“No calls since you phoned last evening to clear Angie.”

Duke sat at the second desk and turned on his computer.

“Rob Parker’s tip about seeing a black horse there gave me hope,” Dinah said. “Now we’re back to square one, darn it.”

“Angie’s ranch is definitely a dead end. I insulted her by the mere suggestion she’d harbor a stolen horse.”

The pair sat in silence a moment, sipping their drinks, each deep in thought. With Duke’s mind having reverted to Angie, he set down his cup, leaned forward and suddenly asked, “Dinah, do you know of any eight- to ten-year-old boys hankering to get in the Wild Pony Race but may need a third to make a team?”

Spinning in her chair, Dinah scrutinized Duke. Her keen mind always worked overtime. She laughed and poked him. “Angie has a son about that age. You wouldn’t be going soft on her, would you, coz?”

Wanting to hide his interest in Angie, Duke met Dinah’s probing eyes. “She has a cute kid, who happens to have a stuttering problem to which I can relate. I gathered he hadn’t made many friends last year in first grade. The boy, Luke is his name, got the flyer I handed out to his Sunday-school class. He wants to sign up in the worst way, but as you can imagine, his stuttering probably hinders other kids from including him. I thought I’d check around a bit is all.”

“Gosh, I’m sorry to hear about his problem. Sorry for Angie, too, even though I don’t really know her.” Dinah removed the lid from her cup and blew on the hot coffee. “Hmm, I just had a thought. Gary and Pam Marshall have twins who I think will be in second grade this fall. Tommy Marshall is a bit of a hellion. His brother, Bobby, is a nice, sweet kid. Last week I saw Pam at the library and she hadn’t yet signed the boys up to race. I’m pretty sure she said they lacked a third kid. Call her or Gary.”

“Thanks, I will.” Storing the information in his head to check into later, Duke accessed his computer copy of Dinah’s break-in file. “You know, like I said yesterday, horse thieving doesn’t fit the pattern we’ve assembled on our crooks. Everything else points to them being petty thieves. In all except this last robbery, they’ve taken items easily pawned or sold to secondhand shops.”

“True, but Ace knows he put Midnight in a pen behind the barn when he checked the laboring mare at eleven.”

“If Midnight accidentally got out I’d expect to find him in the field with the broodmares.”

“Ace checked there first. I’ve gone over and over every step we’ve taken to date. We’ve been thorough, Duke.”

“That’s what I told Jeff Woods and Farley Clark at the diner last night. Farley suggested you deputize his son, Rory, and his buddy Tracy Babcock. He seemed to think with adding boots on the ground, so to speak, you’d solve the case in no time.” Duke tossed that out obliquely, but wrinkled his nose as Dinah’s mouth fell agape.

“I hoped you were kidding, but I see you’re not. Does Farley know we start work before noon?” she said caustically. “I hear Rory doesn’t get up before then.”

Duke laughed. “Jeff said not to worry. Rory and his pal are too into partying with their girlfriends to want to work. I felt I had to warn you in case Farley takes his idea to the mayor.”

“Ah, well, the mayor will nix it quick. He’s in budget meetings with the city council all month. The last meeting someone suggested replacing all our rodeo/fair banners. The mayor went on for twenty minutes how there’s not one extra cent in the city’s discretionary fund.”

“In a way that’s a relief.” Duke glanced at the case file again. “What we have so far is this. The thieves know this area. They’re night owls. And they’re growing bolder.”

Dinah let out an exasperated sigh. “At first they lifted stuff they could toss in the back of a pickup. Now they have a horse trailer. A covered one, I assume, to conceal a distinctive horse.”

“If you want to follow up on leads where they may have unloaded the last custom saddles of Beau’s, Dinah, I’ll concentrate on getting word out to places where they could sell a horse,” Duke said. “I’ll email Midnight’s photo to Beau and Colt. Ace gave me a detailed description for livestock inspectors and auction barns. I’ll check online newspaper ads for private horse sales. What do you think about starting a blog we can hitch on to some well-known trade bloggers?”

“Great. But you do remember I’m registered for a professional development class in Billings the first week of August? I need to leave Sunday as workshops start early Monday. I can cancel if it conflicts with any of your scheduled rodeos. Your point standing to make the NFR is more important than my class.”

Duke took out his BlackBerry. He liked bull riding, and this year had his sights set on getting to and winning at Finals. He also wanted to catch these crooks.

“I’ll make Bozeman this weekend. I can skip Great Falls the days you’re talking about. Beau never misses that rodeo.”

“You’re twins, but it’s not as if you’re interchangeable in vying for the Finals. Beau isn’t in the running. You are.”

“Beau could be in contention. He’s the better rider,” Duke said offhandedly.

“Huh? Are you afraid he’ll beat you if you compete against him?”

“No. But, believe it or not, he doesn’t ride his best when we’re up against each other.”

“As gung ho as he is to succeed at everything? Although, I have noticed he tends to push you. You’ve gotta stop letting him do that.”

“I don’t let him, Dinah.”

“Well, you sometimes hang back. Why would Beau let you win, Duke?”

Duke wondered about that himself. “I agree it makes no sense. But the upshot is, I can easily skip Great Falls. You take your class. I hope you learn new tricks for tracking ranch robbers and horse thieves if we haven’t solved this case by then.”

“We have to find Midnight soon. The ranch can’t afford to absorb the cost of his monthly loan payments if he’s not standing at stud. What that means is Colt and the hands taking stock to more rodeos, which leaves Ace doing double duty. He wants Tuf to get home.”

“Speaking of Tuf... Susie Reynolds asked about him. I pled ignorance because I know Ace thinks he’s shirking. Really, what is up with Tuf?”

“I can’t imagine why he got out of the Corps and hasn’t come home. Mom said he told her he needs time. She’s okay with it. But it irritates Ace.”

“Maybe Tuf does need time. We can’t begin to understand the hell he’s been through.”

“You mean, maybe he’s injured and doesn’t want us to see him like that?”

“Your mom wouldn’t be okay with that. I mean the expectations of this family can be overwhelming. Maybe Tuf needs breathing room.”

Dinah looked unhappy. “If he can’t breathe on four thousand acres in the middle of Big Sky Country, he can’t breathe anywhere.”

“Pardon me for saying so, Dinah, but your attitude is a bit of what I mean about family expectations. Tuf may not be up to everyone demanding a piece of him.”

“We love him. He’d be better off decompressing with us. He should know that.”

Duke left it at that, and each fell silent until the phone on Dinah’s desk rang. “Sheriff Hart,” she answered briskly, then grabbed a pad and scribbled on it.

“What’s shaking?” Duke asked when she hung up and left her chair all in one motion.

“A car went into the ditch on the approach to the covered bridge. No injuries. I can handle this alone if you want to finish the flyer and start the blog we discussed.”

“Should I call for a wrecker?”

“Let’s wait and see if I can pull the car back on the road with the front winch on my patrol SUV.”

“Okay. If you’re not back by the time I have the flyer done, I’ll lock the office and start tacking them up. I may run some out to the two auction barns east of town while I’m at it, and finish up the other half of town in the morning.”

“It’s a plan. When you send Colt and Beau copies on their iPhones, ask them to print off flyers and pass them around as they travel home.”

“Will do. The thieves aren’t dumb enough to try and sell Midnight locally. Frankly I wish they were stupid.”

Being a perfectionist, it took Duke longer to set up a flyer than it should have. He agonized over writing the blog because he didn’t want it too wordy. But he also didn’t want it to be boring.

Dinah checked in once to say she wasn’t able to winch the out-of-towner’s van out of the ditch. It had broken an axle. “The driver tells me a feed truck passed him too close and forced him off the road. I’m trying to figure out who’s at fault. We have a gazillion ranchers hauling grain this month,” she said. “No one in the van got a license plate number.”

“That would make your job too easy,” Duke teased. “That’s why Roundup pays you the big bucks.”

She gave a snort and disconnected. Duke decided he needed a break from the computer and stepped outside to get some air. Zorro had been cooped up with him all morning. He needed the bushes planted between buildings.

Glancing up as he stood waiting for Zorro to do his business, Duke was surprised to see his dad emerge from the Number 1 Diner. “Hey, Pop,” he called.

Josh ambled over to join him.

“It’s unusual to see you in town this time of day. Is everything all right with Aunt Sarah and the ranch?”

“I ordered pipe fittings for the irrigation system. They came in, and Sarah asked me to pick up a few things at the store. I wondered if you or Dinah were in the office. I planned to stop by before heading home. Any updates on the robberies?”

“No. Dinah is out on a call. I put out an internet flyer on the horse. And I printed some off to post around town. I came out to take a break from writing a blog to send out to online trade magazines.”

“That stuff is all Greek to me.”

Zorro loped to the curb where the men stood. The arrival of a bus that came through once a week forced them to step back to keep from being in the way of the pneumatic door when it opened.

Zorro’s ears perked and he growled low in his throat. At first Duke thought it was the hiss of the door upsetting his pet, but then he saw the driver assisting a slender woman with short, silvery-gray hair down the steps. Along with her wheeling suitcase, she held the handle on a harnessed service dog. The woman thanked the driver and asked a question in too soft a voice for Duke to hear.

Josh seemed rattled by the incident, and he wore a funny look as he watched the woman and dog cross the street to where they entered the diner.

“Do you know that blind woman, Pop?”

“A long time ago,” his dad murmured, appearing totally distracted. “I need to go, Duke. Let Sarah or Ace or me know if you get any leads on Midnight,” he said as he rushed off. He recrossed the street behind the bus as it pulled out in a cloud of exhaust.

Duke wound his fingers in Zorro’s collar because he strained at his leash. It was more than odd to see his dad hurry back into the diner he’d left moments ago. If his dad intended to run after the woman, it was even stranger. In all the years their dad had been single, Duke had never known him to look twice at any available women his age in town. Duke assumed he was a one-woman man who never got over losing their mother. In fact, he liked that idea.

Slightly off-kilter himself, Duke went back inside the office and sat down to finish his project. But his mind kept revisiting his dad’s behavior. By the time he sent the piece off, he began to think about what surely must have been a lonely existence for a man raising twin sons alone. His thoughts leapfrogged back to Angie Barrington. Numerous times during the day she’d invaded his thoughts for no reason. He shut down the computer and put a stack of flyers in a manila folder.

Well, he did have reason to think of her. He’d promised to see if he could find a Wild Pony Race team for her son. And depending on the route he took to pass out his flyers, one direction would take him right by Gary and Pam Marshall’s ranch. Dinah’s suggestion to ask about their twins was more viable than any he’d come up with.

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