right after work tomorrow so we can begin our investigation. Maybe we should see old Mrs. Murphy first. She knows everything that goes on in Chance.”
He figured she was babbling, and maybe at a loss for real words the same as him.
So he grinned and nodded. “Sounds good. At least what I got out of all that sounded good.”
“I was rushing my speech a little, wasn’t I?” She choked back a laugh.
“Maybe a little.”
Her eyes went dead serious. “Can we talk about us another time?”
He took her hand in his. “Sure thing. As long as there will be another time.”
“I’ll be here tomorrow.” She turned and went to her car. “Good night, Colt. Thank you for the dance.”
Standing like some damned statue, he watched her start the car and drive away. Our time will come, my love.
He felt her temporary loss acutely, as though someone had died.
And that time will be coming soon. Count on it.
* * *
Colt came out of his nightmare soaked in sweat, once again. But the nightmare had changed. This time when he’d raced down that barrio street, it was Lacie that he’d been running to save. The idea of her in danger made his usual dream all the more terrible.
“You awake now, bro?” Travis tightened the grip on his shoulder.
“Jeez,” Colt said as he straightened up in the old rocker. “There’s one too many Chance brothers on this ranch. What the hell are you doing here at this hour, Travis?”
He’d fallen asleep sitting on the front porch again. The streaks of rose coming from the east were just breaking over the horizon.
“It’s not that early. Not on a ranch,” Travis replied. “I’ve been up for hours. You’ve just forgotten what it’s like to live in the country.
“And I’m here to check up on you,” he went on. “I heard you went to see Aunt June last night and that you and Lacie McCord are planning on taking a fresh look at Dad’s murder conviction. That right?”
Travis ran the Bar-C for the family—and did a damned good job of it, too. But that didn’t mean he could run Colt.
“Yeah, what about it?”
Travis eased his six-two body down on the porch’s top step, the same as their older brother Sam had done a few days ago, and twisted to face Colt. “Good. If I’d had the time, I would’ve done something about it years ago. I’ve tried a couple of times to talk Gage into checking into the murder. But until he found his wife again, he was spending every spare moment trying to find Cami.”
Gage, yet another brother, was the private investigator in the family. And Cami was their lost little sister.
“Now that Gage is getting remarried,” Colt began, “I’m guessing he’ll have less time than ever to do anything extra for the family. And I’ve got nothing but extra time for now.”
Travis scrunched up his mouth and looked as though he’d swallowed a lemon. “You have any suspects in mind? Any places to start looking?”
“If you’re talking about Sheriff McCord, yes, I imagine in the end we’ll find he either committed the murder himself or knows for sure it wasn’t Dad who did it. But I intend to locate proof before I go around accusing him of killing Mom. I’m an attorney, remember?”
Travis nodded but then asked, “What about Lacie? He’s not only her stepfather, he’s her boss.”
“She says it’s not a problem. I’ll keep an eye on her—make sure she’s not caught in the middle.”
Colt immediately thought of a question he’d had for a while and stood to ask it. “Say, how’d McCord get the job of sheriff anyhow? He’s been the county sheriff for as long as I can remember.”
“He’s been sheriff longer than any of us has been alive. In Texas the job of county sheriff is an elected position. But Dad brought McCord to Chance County close to forty years ago and backed him for the job.”
“So someone else could possibly run against him now?”
Travis’s eyebrows went up. “Suppose so. You want the job?”
“Not even a little.” Colt choked back a laugh and walked down the steps to face his brother. “But maybe someone like Lacie would be a better choice than what we’ve got now.”
“That reminds me of the other thing I wanted to talk to you about this morning.” Travis stood, too, shook out his pants’ leg and walked to his SUV.
When he came back, he was carrying a 12 gauge pump shotgun and big box of shells. “There’re rumors of illegal weapons coming through Chance County. And we’ve seen new evidence of illegal activity, possibly undocumented migrants but more likely gunrunners, inside the boundaries of the Bar-C.”
“Have you talked to the sheriff?”
Travis gave him a sharp nod. “Of course, but he didn’t appear too concerned. We can take care of our own problems on the Bar-C. But I’m concerned about the townspeople and the other ranchers.”
Colt silently agreed with his brother. The citizens of Chance County were for the most part decent and hardworking. The reason they had a sheriff’s department in the first place was to keep things peaceful and safe from outsiders.
“I brought this for you.” Travis held out the shotgun. “Still remember how to shoot one of these? You used to be a sharpshooter in high school, but I haven’t seen you with any weapons since you’ve been home.”
“Don’t like the things. Being shot in the back will do that to a man.”
“Right. But do you think you could still use one if you had to?” Travis shoved the gun at him.
Colt took the shotgun, but just stared at it, feeling as though the weapon might burn right through his hand if he moved. “Maybe. But I’d rather not.”
“Keep it handy.” Travis held out the box of shells. “I’m not happy about you staying this far out on the range, all alone and without protection. You sure you wouldn’t rather move into the main house with us?”
Colt had to chuckle at that one. “What I’m sure about is that your new wife and two little ones would not enjoy having their beaten-up old uncle moving in and cramping their style.”
Travis gave his injured leg a pointed look. “You’re walking better every time I see you. And Summer and the kids would love to have you. You sure...?”
Colt waved off the rest of his sentence. “I’m positive. Sam invited me to move in with him, too.” He took the box of shells. “I’ll keep the 12 gauge and stay put, thanks.”
The thought of that car on the highway without its lights last night gave Colt another reason to keep a gun around. The shotgun would be going in the rack
