West Texas Weddings by Ginger Chambers

Author:Ginger Chambers [Ginger Chambers]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459270480
Publisher: Harlequin

MORGAN TRACED RAFE to the ranch office, where his friend sat talking to two uniformed visitors. One was Sheriff Jack Denton, the other his deputy, Tate Connelly.

The tune Morgan had been whistling in happy memory of the past half hour died on his lips the instant the men turned their dour expressions on him. “More trouble?” he asked, instantly alert.

Sheriff Denton, a soft-spoken man in his late fifties, shifted in his chair. A descendant of one of the Buffalo Soldiers (African American enlisted men who were members of the U.S. Army, and shortly after the Civil War were sent to some of the most dangerous outposts in the unfolding American West), the sheriff had roots almost as deep in the area as the Parkers’. Never rail thin, he had put on some weight over the past few years, but if anyone thought he was slowing down, they were very much mistaken. He still pursued criminals with as much energy as he had his first day on the job.

“‘Fraid so,” the sheriff confirmed. “Seems that thievin’ gang’s come this way. Last night the Clearys next door lost thirty calves. Fence was cut, then stood back up. Tate here says it looks the same as the ones he saw last week over at Debolt.”

Morgan hadn’t laid eyes on Tate Connelly in years. One or the other of them had always seemed to be away. Himself at his job, Tate either at the university studying for a degree in criminology or gaining experience on the Dallas police force. He was a young man—twenty-four, twenty-five—but from everything Morgan had heard about him, he had all the instincts of a good lawman. Must be in the genes, Morgan thought. Come down to him from his dad, who’d died a true hero. Not to mention his mother, who worked dispatch in the sheriffs office. Morgan gave him a quick once-over and decided that he liked what he saw. Tate was a nice-looking young man, with neatly clipped brown hair and steady brown eyes. Solid. Sound of spirit.

“Did they leave anything to go on?” Morgan asked.

Tate answered, “The hand that found ‘em missin’ had a hissy fit right on the spot, kickin’ up dirt, cussin’ to beat the band. He took care of most everythin’ that might’ve been there. And the road’s been used a bunch after.”

“We thought you might like to take a look,” the sheriff said.

“What about Ed?” Morgan asked, mentioning his fellow inspector.

“He’s comin’ this evening. Said probably about seven.”

“Then I’ll come about that time, too. Go over it with him. I don’t want to step on his toes. It’s his district.”

“Just thought you might like a look-see.” The sheriffs smile formed deep creases in his weathered brown cheeks. “Just to keep your hand in. It must be itchin’.”

“I don’t need to tell you Ed’s a good man,” Morgan said.

“You bet you don’t,” the sheriff agreed. Then, standing up, he settled the hat he’d been balancing on his knee back onto his graying hair. “We been working together for more years than I care to think about.

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