The Sheriff Of Sage Bend. Brenda Mott

cowboy trying to comfort her. “Thanks anyway, Sam, but I could use something to keep me busy.”

      “You can take Snap,” Paige said, handing the mare over. “I need to get this food put away and go help with lunch.” One of the neighboring ranchers had offered to feed the volunteers a hearty meal.

      “I’m going to see Tori after I finish with the horses,” Miranda told her, “but I won’t be gone long.” Tori’s shift at the Silver Spur had kept her from being at the ranch today.

      Paige nodded, then headed for the back door. Miranda led Ranger and Cimarron toward the barn. She cross-tied each horse in the aisle, looking over at Poker’s stall. A lump swelled in her throat. The big bay gelding had settled down, and now stood contentedly munching hay from his feeder, oblivious to the fate of his owner.

      “I sure wish you could talk,” she murmured.

      As she unsaddled and brushed Ranger, Miranda’s thoughts drifted from Shannon to Lucas. She’d like to be a fly on the wall when he confronted Clint, the sorry SOB. She couldn’t understand why Dena put up with the abuse he dished out.

      But most of all, Miranda had never come to terms with the fact that Lucas thought he was no better than his brother or his father, which was why he’d decided not to marry her, after all.

      Apples and oranges.

      But nothing Miranda had said could convince him otherwise.

      LUCAS DROVE FASTER THAN he should have on his way to Clint’s place, especially since he hadn’t taken the time to unhitch his trailer. He knew his efforts were futile, but some small part of him still hoped he could shake his brother up enough to get him to back off from abusing Dena. Lucas constantly worried for her safety. And right now, he wasn’t exactly in a happy frame of mind.

      He hadn’t wanted to upset Miranda any more than she already was. But when she’d brought up the possibility of a copycat killer, one thing had come to mind: Lonnie Masterson himself very well could be behind Shannon’s abduction. It was possible he had friends on the outside more than willing to help him make the only witness for his prosecution disappear.

      The thought made Lucas insane. He and Miranda might’ve broken up, but he still cared about her and her sister.

      He would make arrangements to go to the Cameron County jail and have a talk with Masterson as soon as he could.

      Minutes later, he arrived at his brother’s place. Clint’s ranch—if you could call it that—consisted of a half-dozen horses and a pack of mutts. The place lay tucked into a valley, the breathtaking scenery sur rounding it a stark contrast to the shabby house. But the barn—that was another story. Clint spent most of his money on his horses, and as little as possible on Dena and the kids. For the life of him, Lucas couldn’t figure out why she didn’t leave his sorry ass.

      Maybe it was because Dena saw the man that Clint could be if he’d only try. The man Lucas caught a glimpse of once in a while, when his brother was sober.

      Lucas parked near the porch steps and was immediately swarmed by a half-dozen barking dogs, pit-bulls, rottweilers and a few mutts. Ignoring them, he walked around a small tricycle and up the steps. Before he could knock, Dena opened the door. Lucas heard Cody and Jason playing in the living room, their voices carrying over the sound of the TV.

      “He’s not here, Lucas.” Dena stepped out onto the porch, letting the screen door bang shut behind her. “But everything’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”

      “No, Dena, it’s not okay.” He shook his head in exasperation, but spoke low enough that the boys wouldn’t hear. “Don’t you get tired of him using you for a punching bag?”

      “That’s not fair,” Dena said. “Clint’s good to me…most of the time.”

      Lucas let out an expletive. “Fair? I’ll tell you what’s not fair. My worthless brother marrying one of the nicest women I know.” They’d all gone to Sage Bend High, Dena and Clint just a year behind Lucas. He indicated her hidden bruise. “I’ve put him in jail before, and if I could prove he did that to you, I’d lock him up again.”

      “He needs help, not jail time.” Dena rubbed her wrist. “It’s nothing, really. It’s just the booze talkin’ when he lets his anger out.”

      “Yeah, well, he still has no right to knock you around.” Come on, he urged silently. File charges against him.

      But she wouldn’t.

      “So, where’s he at? The Silver Spur?” The local honky-tonk was a few miles out of town, a favorite watering hole for Clint.

      Dena’s expression told Lucas he was right. He turned to go.

      “Lucas, wait.” She chewed her bottom lip. “It’s not so bad.” Clint’s a hard worker, and I…I love him.”

      Lucas shook his head. “Dogged if I can puzzle that one out. See you later, Dena. Call if you need me.”

      He clomped down the steps and nearly tripped over a gray cat lying stretched out on the bottom one. “Where’d you come from, buddy?” he asked, surprised Clint would let Dena have a cat.

      The tabby blinked and let out a scratchy-sounding meow. Standing, it laced itself through his ankles and back again, then suddenly leaped to another step, batting at a small pebble. One of the dogs came over to investigate, and the tabby gave the mutt a disdainful look and swatted its muzzle before returning to play.

      Laughing, Lucas got in his Blazer and turned it around, ignoring the dogs as they chased his rig off the property.

      He forced himself to breathe deeply, exhaling through his mouth. What bothered him most was that he could almost see how Dena could still love Clint, in spite of what he did to her. Lucas remembered some good times he and his brother had had before Clint let his drinking take over his life. In many ways, Lucas loved him, and wasn’t willing to give up on him. Their father was serving a sentence for using his fists one time too many—one time too hard. Lucas hated to see Clint headed down a similar path.

      Dena had a point. The man needed help. Yet half the time, Lucas just wanted to beat some sense into Clint. Ironically, controlling his own temper wasn’t easy.

      He was a lawman on the outside. But inside, he was a Blaylock. And he knew there was a fine line keeping him from being a bastard like his brother and his father.

      Lucas smacked the heel of his hand against the steering wheel. Unless Dena filed charges—or someone witnessed Clint’s abuse and called the law, which had happened that one time—there was nothing Lucas could do to help her. And unless Clint wanted help, no one could force him to get it.

      Lucas drove to the Silver Spur. Sure enough, Clint’s pickup was in the parking lot.

      And so was Miranda’s.

      He supposed she’d come here to talk to Tori. He hated that Miranda might have to witness an ugly scene between him and Clint, but that’s the way it had to be.

      Lucas stepped inside, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were only a handful of patrons scattered throughout the room, and Clint was one of them. At the bar, Miranda was just sitting down. Tori put what appeared to be a glass of Coke in front of her. They both waved at him, and he nodded, then made his way over to the table where Clint sat swilling longnecks with one of his buddies.

      “Look what the wind blew in,” Clint said. He was half-blitzed. “Whatcha’ doin’ here, big brother? Did you come to see me?”

      Clint’s pal, Shorty, snickered. “Care to join us, Sheriff?”

      “I hope neither one of you is planning to drive home.” Lucas fixed them with a hard stare.

      “Why, no,” Clint said, his eyes widening. “We’re gonna call a limo to take us home in style.”

      Shorty guffawed, and Clint laughed with him.

      In