The Cowboy And The Cop. Christine Wenger

      Reaching the second floor, he found the door labeled Beaumont County Department of Taxation and walked in. The office smelled musty, as if fresh air had never hit all the ledgers, microfiche and file cabinets. Looked like the tax department hadn’t caught up to the digital age.

      “I know why you’re here, Luke,” said Mrs. McBride from behind the counter. Connie McBride was the mother of Leann, the head cheerleader he had dated during his sophomore year. “I’ve been expecting you.”

      Reaching to her right, she slid a file from the top of the stack and positioned it in front of him. Using a stubby index finger with a nail cut to the quick, she pointed to a figure he knew was reachable but would be painful for his brothers and him.

      “And these are the penalties.” She pointed to another figure.

      Dammit, Dad. What have you done?

      “I had no idea it was so much,” Luke mumbled.

      “As I told you on the phone, according to the rules, I have no choice but to put your property up for auction,” Mrs. McBride leaned over the counter. “Hopefully, no one else will bid on it and you can buy it back. It has to go for at least these two figures. That’s the bottom line. The sale starts at ten o’clock sharp, Luke.” She checked her watch. “It’s nine thirty now. I’d better get going.”

      “Is it downstairs?” Luke asked.

      “No. It’s in the lobby of the courthouse. Not here.”

      How could he be so stupid? He took her hand and shook it. “Thanks, Mrs. McBride. Oh, and how’s Leann?”

      “She’s just a saint. She’s married and living in Fargo with an immature husband and four hellion boys—two sets of twins. I don’t know how she does it.”

      He tipped his hat. “Thanks, Mrs. McBride.” He’d have to pay his father’s restitution for the three bar fights at a later date.

      As he walked, he phoned Reed and told him the total amount. “Good. We’re covered and there’s some left,” Reed said.

      “Is Jesse with you?” Luke asked.

      “Yeah. I’ll put you on speakerphone so he can hear. We’re in Tucson now, chowing down on some cold pizza for breakfast and sitting outside on the balcony of our hotel.”

      “Someone could outbid me, but I still think I have it covered,” Luke advised. His heart beat fast in his chest. A lot was at stake. Not only now, but for future generations of Beaumonts. The ranch was a living history of his family, and it made him get both misty and mad that his father had forgotten that. “Thanks, guys. I’d better get moving. I’ll talk to you later.”

      “Good luck with Dad, bro,” Jesse said. “He was ornery and stubborn the last time I visited with him at the ranch. Not a lot of fun.”

      “He’s really going to blow when he finds out that we’re going to save the ranch,” Reed added.

      A sick feeling came over Luke, when he thought about the ranch. It used to be prosperous and whatever his father touched had turned to profit. They’d been noted for their rough stock far and wide.

      But Big Dan had given away all the stock—bulls, horses, everything. The first to go was the horse that had kicked his mother in the head.

      Erasing all memories of his thriving ranch was how his father had grieved. This devastated the brothers, who couldn’t stop Big Dan, so they threw themselves into riding bulls and staying away from the ranch and their father.

      In retrospect, the whole bunch of them should have gone to counseling.

      “Jesse, it’s time for you to win,” Luke said, shaking off what he still didn’t want to deal with.

      “No kidding,” Jesse said.

      They said their goodbyes and Luke disconnected.

      As he walked to the courthouse he thought he’d rather ride a two-thousand-pound, bucking Brahma bull with horns as big as baseball bats than deal with his father.

      * * *

      “SERGEANT CHAPMAN, I’m assigning you to the tax auction. Crowd control. Then you need to direct traffic when it’s over,” Captain Fred Fitzgerald informed her.

      Amber hated working tax auctions, but as Captain Fitz had said previously, “Someone has to keep all of them from killing Connie McBride, and I outrank you.”

      She was always that someone.

      As the only woman on the small force, Captain Fitzgerald gave her the assignments that none of the men wanted, or the ones that Fitz felt were beneath his macho deputies, and that made her feel frustrated and angry. She’d tried talking to Fitz on several occasions, and he’d always insisted that he was treating her the same as the other officers, so she got nowhere.

      A larger force with more opportunities for advancement was one of many reasons why Amber wanted to get into the state police. Although there were probably Fitz types in the state police, there were more departments to transfer into if she got a Fitz.

      When they offered a state police exam, she’d have to pass that, be reachable on the list, submit to a background check and several interviews along with the agility test.

      Agility test. Ugh. She couldn’t get much agility sitting behind a desk. She jogged, of course, but she really should work out more. Maybe with a punching bag.

      She vowed to join Marco’s Fit-nasium. It was the only gym in town.

      Connie McBride was her usual busy self. Thank goodness she had an auctioneer who was going to do the actual sale of the property. Connie would faint if she had to do that chatter.

      Bidders had been lined up since dawn and they were loud. They complained about everything like death, taxes and how rock-and-roll singers were taking over traditional country music, but mostly about taxes.

      Luke Beaumont was in the crowd. She saw him leaning against the beige marble wall, a couple of fingers through the loops of his jeans. She couldn’t tell if he was amused or irritated, but he kept looking at the clock. Nine thirty-five.

      Less than a half hour to go.

      Amber didn’t think anyone in Beaumont could outbid him if Luke had the money, but there were always out-of-town speculators and condo builders looking for big chunks of land like the Beaumont property.

      Amber walked toward Luke. When he saw her, he tweaked the brim of his hat. She liked it when guys did that. It was very gentlemanly.

      “Having fun?” she asked.

      “Oh, yeah.”

      “Now you know how your fans feel when they are waiting in line for your autograph.”

      “I’ve always known how they felt,” Luke said. “And I appreciate every one of them.”

      She was just about to tell him that on several occasions she’d been one of those fans waiting in line for him, but always changed her mind at the last minute—except for the time that had brought him here.

      Amber looked around. “I recognize a couple of men who have traditionally bought up property at auction. Be ready, Luke. And I hope you have a lot of money in reserve.”

      “Between my brothers and me, we ought to win the bid. And, Amber, thanks for coming to Oklahoma City and letting me know about...everything. I appreciate that you gave me a wake-up call.”

      She shrugged her shoulders. She was only helping an old high school friend. That was all. Right?

      “Good luck, Luke.”

      “Thanks.”

      Amber told herself that she just wanted to keep Beaumont the way it was—a nice, small town with lots of scenic grazing land dotted with cattle, horses and sheep and no absentee landlords.

      It had nothing