The Lawman by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Author:Vicki Lewis Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 1995-12-04T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

LEIGH HURRIED toward the French doors. With luck Joe was somewhere nearby, and he was going to listen to what she had to say if she had to rope him and tie him to a post to keep him in one spot.

Joe was no longer in the living room, but Rosa, the head housekeeper, was there supervising a new girl who was cleaning the cobwebs from the high, beamed ceiling.

“Did either of you see where Mr. Gilardini went?” Leigh asked.

Rosa propped her hands on her hips. “Out on the porch, I think. Sí. The porch.”

But Joe wasn’t there anymore, either. Leigh gazed around in frustration. Then she started down the flagstone walk. She’d told Kyle she could read minds, and many times she could. Right now, she had to connect with Joe’s if she expected to locate him. The ranch was a big place.

At the end of the walk she paused and glanced at the sandy ground. There were boot prints in the moist earth and the prints led off to the left. She followed them, knowing that she could be tracking anybody in a pair of cowboy boots. But intuition told her she was following Joe. A path beyond the parking area led to a seldom-used picnic spot in a grove of mesquite trees. Leigh had vague memories of family picnics there when she was very young and her mother was still alive. But with one rickety picnic table and no fireplace for cooking, it wasn’t a practical spot for feeding ranch guests, and few people knew it was even there.

The tang of wet creosote bushes spiced the air. The green bark of a nearby palo verde tree gleamed as if it had been shellacked, and in its branches hung a cobweb woven with diamonds. Bring water to the desert and amazing things happened, Leigh thought. Flowers bloomed where only thorns had been before. If only such a transformation could be wrought in people. Perhaps what some people needed was a cleansing storm.

Her boots crunched along the sandy path as she walked toward the picnic area. She made no attempt to approach quietly. She was through pussyfooting around Joe Gilardini.

He sat on the table, his feet propped on the attached bench. His expression was guarded as he watched her come toward him. “There must be some Indian blood in your ancestry,” he said. “Tracking me all the way out here.”

She stopped and braced herself for the fray. “Maybe I should just stake you over an anthill and pour honey on you, come to think of it.”

Joe nudged his hat back with his thumb. “And to what do I owe this flood of hostility?”

She threw her anger at him as if hurling a bolt of lightning. “Your general stupidity.”

“That comes as no surprise. I never claimed to be a genius.”

She aimed again, determined to crack his armor. “How about a father? Did you ever claim to be that?”

His eyes darkened and he stepped down from the table. “I should have known this would be about Kyle.

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