laughed. Dinah talked tough, but she had the perfect disposition for her job. She knew Montana law, had grown up in Roundup, but her best trait in Duke’s opinion—she accepted people for who they were and looked for good in everyone.
“Laugh, but I want to nail the thieves working over our friends, family and neighbors so bad I can taste it.”
“Me, too. I think by upping their timetable they’re bound to get sloppy and make a misstep.”
“I hope so. Enjoy your club steak on toast and all the trimmings. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow.”
Duke clicked off as he pulled up in front of the redbrick diner. They all ate there so often they knew the nightly specials by heart. Tonight his timing couldn’t be better. A pickup about the size of his pulled out and left an opening where Duke could keep an eye on his vehicle from inside. “Zorro, be good while I’m in eating and I’ll bring you some steak.” The dog perked his ears, but he lay back down when Duke opened his door and cracked open a window far enough for Zorro to get his snout out for fresh air.
Sierra Byrne, who owned the diner, hadn’t grown up in Roundup, but she’d spent summers in her parents’ cabin on the nearby Musselshell River. And she served comfort food, which made her restaurant a hit with ranchers and rodeo cowboys who went for stick-to-the-ribs meals. Men and women alike enjoyed the mining theme. Duke wasn’t crazy about the tables with sparkly red Formica tops, but in general the place had a homey feel.
Several people greeted him as he entered and that, too, added to the diner’s attraction. Two members of the Roundup rodeo committee hailed him to sit with them. The town’s fair and rodeo loomed large in everyone’s mind as it was only a few weeks away. Preparation didn’t change much from year to year, but every year the committees jockeyed their events enough to claim the current rodeo/fair would be the best one yet. And it did seem to Duke that the fair added more booths, the parade got bigger and motels got booked quicker each year, which was good for the town coffers.
Farley Clark owned a gas station at each end of town. He also stored the movable bleachers at his ranch. Duke supposed Farley wanted to ask him to line up burly cowboys to assemble the bleachers. This evening, Farley and his tablemate, Jeff Woods, wanted to discuss the most recent robbery.
“Heck of a note,” Farley said, “Sarah and Ace losing that pricy stud. Thunder Ranch being hit twice puts me in mind that whoever’s doing this is thumbing their nose at Dinah. What’s she got in mind to do? Are there any leads at all?”
Duke shook his head. He hadn’t expected to get grilled about the burglary, or he probably would have skipped coming here. Not everyone in town had favored the idea of Roundup electing a woman sheriff. Farley had been one of the most vocal, and had supported Dinah’s opponent.
“I’ll take the special, with iced tea,” Duke called to Susie Reynolds, the waitress heading toward him. She gave him a thumbs-up, and turned back to deliver his order.
“You figure it’s a local?” Jeff asked, peeling the label off his bottle of sarsaparilla.
“Bound to be,” Duke answered. “Or else someone has spent a lot of time working out escape routes. They strike at night. Nobody hears or sees them make a getaway. Pete Duval’s ranch isn’t easy to find in broad daylight. Practically all of the ranches hit own dogs who haven’t barked in alarm. Dinah and I assume it’s guys who know the back roads and local ranch layouts.”
Farley Clark stirred two packets of sugar in his coffee. “Did you check at the bank if anyone is making deposits over and above what’s normal?”
“Dinah did.” Duke watched the man drink the syrupy black stuff. “Farley, these guys haven’t left any tracks. You know, I sort of sense you aren’t happy with the job Dinah and I are doing. If you want to call a town-hall meeting to let everyone vent, I won’t object and I’m sure Dinah won’t. We keep hoping someone saw or heard something, but haven’t connected it to the break-ins, or didn’t think to report it. Remember, Thunder Ranch has suffered the biggest losses. Surely you don’t believe Dinah and I wouldn’t round up this gang if we could?”
Farley didn’t back off. “I’m just saying it’s gone on longer than any problem the city’s ever had. If Dinah doesn’t catch the culprits before our upcoming fair and rodeo, no one will be comfortable leaving their ranches while they attend scheduled events.”
Duke’s meal came and saved him from losing his temper and snapping at Farley. Susie slipped Duke a small plastic bag. “For Zorro,” she said. “I know you always take him some of your steak.”
“Hey, thanks. I didn’t realize I was so predictable.”
“It’s okay. I really wanted to come ask if any of your family has heard from Tuf? My older brother is finally back in the States. He’s at Kāne‘ohe Bay in Hawaii, but he served with Tuf in Afghanistan and asked about him when we spoke. I said I haven’t seen him around town.”
Duke stopped cutting his steak. “Aunt Sarah has been in contact with him. That’s about all I know. But when I’m not at the sheriff’s office or out doing that job, I’m off at rodeos.” Duke gave a casual shrug. Really he knew everyone in the family worried about his youngest cousin. But they were tight-knit, and not prone to blabber personal stuff that could lead to gossip.
Jeff ordered another soft drink. Luckily Farley took out his money clip, peeled off a tip and dropped it beside his plate. Susie went to help a new customer as Farley said, “I don’t think we’ve reached the stage of calling for a town-hall meeting, Duke, but I wonder if Dinah shouldn’t deputize a couple of guys at least through our fair and rodeo. It so happens my son, Rory, is home from college for the summer, along with his good friend, Tracy Babcock. They could be of help. My wife wants Rory to be a lawyer even though he thinks he’d rather be a rancher. A summer internship as a deputy would look good on his résumé if he chooses law.”
Now Farley’s entire complaint came into focus for Duke and made more sense. “I’ll pass that information along to Dinah when I see her in the morning,” Duke said. He could almost predict her reaction. Farley’s wife had spoiled their only son, Rory, with ready cash, hot cars and expensive clothes only dudes would be caught wearing, and his good buddy, Tracy Babcock, was cut from the same cloth. To keep from further comment, Duke cut a slice of steak and put it in his mouth. He gestured goodbye with his fork as Farley ambled off.
Jeff, who ran a dry-cleaning establishment in town that catered to single cowboys, saw through Duke’s badly concealed attitude. “Farley and Janine have high expectations for Rory. The problem as I see it is they’ve waited too long to clamp down on the kid. I doubt Dinah needs to worry about hiring the boys. Those two and their pals are more interested in partying the summer away with their girlfriends over in Musselshell.” Jeff finished his second sarsaparilla, got up, said his farewells to Duke and stopped to talk to a couple of ranchers on his way out.
Duke tucked into his food. His mind lingered less on Farley’s desire to have his son play deputy, and more on the nearness of the event under discussion. He thought of his offer to find a team of wild pony racers for Angie Barrington’s son. He discovered he liked thinking about Angie. Her efficiency in the kitchen left him wondering how much time she spent making her horse treats. The way he’d seen horses gobble up the oat cookies, they probably ate them faster than one woman alone could bake. If Angie wanted to expand and hire people to help mix and bake the cookies as she’d indicated, she could build a profitable company. He could help her advertise by building her a website—if she’d let him.
Having eaten his fill, Duke sliced and
