Page 6 of Homicide in Water Creek

“You’ll let me know if anything changes?”

“I’m sure my granddaddy will call your granddaddy immediately.”

She wanted to play that way? He had ammunition, too. “As I’m sure you’re aware, I didn’t appreciate you taking off tonight from Boone’s. We had questions for the witness, but she mysteriously disappeared.”

Her thin but strong shoulder rose and fell. “I’m sorry, but the King of Water Creek doesn’t run my life.”

“No, your granddaddy does, as evidenced by tonight.”

“Watch your tone, King,” she warned, keeping her gaze fixed on the men at the table.

“You know I’m going to need to see you in my office tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, Principal King. I’ll be there with bells on, when I get around to it.”

He snorted and shook his head. Sparring with her was fun, though tiring. “I can’t ask for more than that, Jacks.”

She didn’t say anything until he stood and turned toward the bar.

“King,” she whispered.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah, Jacks?”

Her gaze never left the pool table as she spoke. “I’m sorry about your mom. I just had to get out of there.”

“Thanks, and I understand. Just make sure you come by to give us your statement, okay?”

She nodded once, her gaze drifting to his for a moment. There was ice there, but beneath it was compassion she couldn’t hide.

On his way back to the bar, he sized up Chinos, as Jacks called him. He was definitely a problem. He fit in about as well as a zebra in a herd of giraffes. Rodeo cowboys didn’t wear chinos, striped polo shirts, and New Balance tennis shoes. The guy made the cop in him stand up and take notice. He would have to talk to Jackson Miles Senior about him. For now, a plate of wings and fries had magically appeared at the bar, so he sat down to eat.

He had to give Jacks credit where it was due. She could read people better than anyone else he’d ever met, in law enforcement and in life. She had Chinos pegged, but King doubted it had anything to do with his clothes. That man wasn’t at the Double J to learn to be a cowboy. He had other intentions. King couldn’t help but wonder whether his mother, lying dead in the morgue, had anything to do with them.

Chapter Four

Jacks slid across the cool seat of the ATV and cranked it over. The engine rumbled beneath her as she kicked it into gear, following the trail back through the thick brush toward the ranch. She had better things to do than babysit man-children. The man-child at the top of her list? Sheriff King.

Then again, she didn't actually have to babysit him, but he was a man-child. Or maybe she was just being petty. He wasn't a man-child. He was all man. Every damn inch of him was man, and whenever he stepped into her personal space, she had to work hard just to remember her own name.

Her time at the bar had been helpful, especially once King arrived. She had watched him scrutinize the cowboys one by one during his brief time at the table. He saw what she saw; she was positive of it. The new recruits for the rodeo school were decent, with the glaring exception of Chinos. Cowboys, even the wannabes, didn't wear chinos and tennis shoes. When they went out looking for a good time, they wore straight-off-the-shelf Wranglers, still stiff from their newness, with belt buckles bigger than their manhood in every direction, plaid shirts with mother-of-pearl buttons, and felt, leather, or straw Stetson hats.

She didn’t know what Chinos's angle was yet, but she’d figure it out eventually. He confused her. He dressed like a man who worked in an office, yet he could ride a horse and rope a steer. It was oddly disconcerting, to say the least.

As the trail narrowed, she slowed the ATV, focusing on steering through the branches so they wouldn't slap her in the face. She needed to park the four-wheeler and head back to her trailer before the guys returned from town. It was her job to monitor the men’s behavior when they were off the ranch, but she was tired and uninterested in staying at the bar any longer. Besides, they weren’t being rowdy or inappropriate, and the bartenders would kick them out if they acted up. The rules their students agreed to made it clear that if they got kicked out of the Whistle Wetter, they’d be kicked out of the rodeo school. She was fairly certain they’d heed the warning.

Regardless, she’d have to stay up until midnight to make sure everyone made it back by curfew. She wasn't in the mood for any of it. She’d found a dead body today that turned out to be King’s mother, and to add insult to injury, her period had started. That would teach her to use it as an excuse. Karma was a bitch.

The four-wheeler caught a root and nearly tipped, but she righted it just as the back tires kicked up a spray of gravel. By the time she parked beside the barn at the Double J Ranch and cut the engine, her heart was pounding. She let out a long breath, swiping a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, I’m done with today.”

She carefully threw her leg over the seat, mindful of her balance. Fatigue brought the looming likelihood that her leg would simply forget to hold her up. Without the brace, she wouldn’t be walking unassisted, but without her granddaddy, she wouldn’t be walking at all.

A soft whinny drifted from the barn. She slid the door open, letting the low light filter down the walkway to guide her to the second of the eight stalls. There were three barns on the Double J, but this one was hers. It housed her personal horses, kept separate from those used for the cowboys and rodeo training. It was the smallest barn on the property, but in her opinion, it was the mightiest.

Stroking the nose of the mare in front of her, Jacks let the animal snuffle her face. “Hello, Dakota,” she sang softly, her touch gentle. “How’s my favorite gal? Are you wishing that baby were out of your belly?”

Dakota butted her with a loving nudge. The mare didn't care what was being said, only that Jacks was there. She was still months away from giving birth, but when she finally did, it would mark the moment Jacks reached her goal. She wore many hats at the Double J, but breeding and selling quarter horses was her favorite. Six years ago, Granddaddy had promised that once the rodeo school was running smoothly and the housing projects were finished, she could focus on the horses. He’d kept his word. She carried a heavy load of responsibilities on the ranch, but she worked them all for the chance to build the business she’d always dreamed of.