“Marcus, it’s Dakota. You got a minute?”
I stared longingly at the donuts taunting me from a few inches away. “Yeah. I’m not busy. What’s up?”
“Well… I think we might have a bit of a situation out here, something I wanted to get your opinion on.” Dakota sounded hesitant. “Might be nothin’ though.”
“What’s goin’ on?” I said, pushing the donut box away and grabbing my pen. “Anybody in trouble?”
“Nobody’s in trouble,” he answered. “But we’ve got some stuff that’s gone missin’. But it’s… weird.”
I sat up straighter in my chair, my attention fully diverted from the donuts now. Dakota wasn’t the type to call unless something was actually wrong. He was quiet, kept to himself, and handled most problems on the ranch without bothering anyone else about it.
“Weird how?” I asked.
“Well, it’s little things mostly,” Dakota said, and I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “But not farm stuff. First it was Logan’s watch from his old company in New York. I thought maybe he just misplaced it. But then a beaded necklace my mother got for me back on the rez went missing. And this mornin’ Caroline’s leather Coach purse came up missin’.”
“Caroline has a Coach purse?”
“I know, I was shocked too. But it’s gone.” Dakota let out a long sigh. “Losing a watch makes sense. But the beads were hung on the wall and Caroline’s purse was hanging up in her closet in plain sight. Now they’re just…gone.”
“One of the ranch hands take them, you think?” I asked, not wanting to leave any stone unturned. “Maybe they wanted to pawn them for extra cash?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Dakota continued. “But then this mornin’ I found prints in the mud near the main house. Fresh ones. And they weren’t from any of our guys.”
“Boot prints aren’t exactly uncommon on a ranch,” I pointed out.
“I know. But these were different. Smaller, like maybe a woman’s shoe? And the ranch hands don’t come into the main house without us knowin’. They keep to the barns and the bunkhouses. Besides, none of those guys would know the difference between a Coach purse and a feed bag. Everything that’s gone is valuable, but only to the right buyer. It’s not like someone stole all our laptops or somethin’.”
“You’ve got a point there,” I nodded, scribbling down notes. I glanced at the donut box again, knowing my Friday treat was getting further away by the second. “Alright. I’ll swing by and take a look. Can you make sure nobody disturbs those prints?”
“Already put some cones around ‘em,” Dakota said. “Thanks, Marcus. I know it’s probably nothin’, but it’s just…odd.”
“Better safe than sorry,” I agreed. “I’ll be there in about an hour. Need to finish up some paperwork here first.”
That was a lie. What I needed to finish was my donuts, but Dakota didn’t need to know that.
“Appreciate it, Sheriff.”
I hung up and stared at the box in front of me, my appetite somewhat diminished by the news. Theft at the Baker ranch wasn’t common. Hell, theft in Sagebrush period wasn’t common.We were a small town where everybody knew everybody, and stealing from your neighbors just wasn’t done. At least, it hadn’t been until recently.
But with the ranches bringing in more tourists, more guests, more outsiders... things were changing. Beau had said as much himself just the other day. This town was going through a transformation that seemed to get quicker by the day.
I picked up the custard donut again, determined not to let this ruin my Friday ritual. I took a bite, letting the sweetness flood my mouth, the custard oozing onto my tongue. God, that was good. I closed my eyes and savored it, letting myself have this one moment of pure indulgence before I had to go back to being Sheriff Webb, protector of Sagebrush.
Three donuts later, I was feeling significantly better about life. I wiped the powdered sugar from my hands and face, grabbed my hat, and headed out to my truck. The drive to Baker Ranch was so familiar I could do it with my eyes closed. And that’s probably why I spent the whole time thinking about Beau’s request instead of paying attention to the road.
It had been a week, and I still hadn’t given him an answer on that. I’d been somewhat…distracted.
The sky was clear today, no sign of the rain that had welcomed Xavier to town earlier in the week. I’d been trying not to think about Xavier, about those tight jeans and that mesh shirt, about the way he’d leaned across the table at Dolly’s with those dark eyes fixed on me like he could see right through every wall I’d built.
Hadn’t been very successful at not thinking about him, if I was being honest. In fact, he seemed to dominate my thoughts for the majority of each day since. But that was the last thing I needed, to get involved with some city slicker like that. He was gorgeous, sure. But he was dangerous to the life and reputation I’d built, and that meant he was off limits.Permanently.
I turned onto the ranch property and followed the gravel drive up to the main house. Dakota was waiting on the porch, his long dark hair tied back, arms crossed over his chest. He looked concerned, which for Dakota meant something was definitely wrong. The man had a poker face that could win tournaments.
“Sheriff,” he said, stepping down to meet me. “Thanks for comin’ out.”
“No problem. Show me what you got.”
He led me around the side of the house to where he’d set up orange cones around a patch of mud near one of the flower beds.
