have you girls done?” one of the boys asked with mock surprise. “The Texas Rangers are after somebody!”
Christabel didn’t say a word. She just stared with the others, but her dark eyes twinkled as she watched him stride toward her with that single-minded determination that made him so good at his job. He was the sexiest, most wonderful man in the world. She owed him everything she had, everything she was. Sometimes she wished with all her heart that she’d been born beautiful, and maybe then he’d notice her the way she wanted him to. She smiled secretly, wondering what the other girls would say if they knew her true relationship with that dynamo Texas Ranger.
Judd Dunn was thirty-four. He’d spent most of his life in law enforcement, and he was good at it. He’d been with Company D of the Texas Rangers for five years. He’d been up for promotion to lieutenant, but he’d turned it down because that was more of an administrative job and he liked field work better. He kept that long, lean body fit by working on the ranch, ownership of which he shared with Christabel.
He’d been made responsible for Christabel when she was only sixteen. The D bar G Ranch had been run-down, flat-busted, and ready to crash and burn. Judd had pulled it out of the red and made it show a profit. Over the years, he’d put his own money into enlarging the crossbreed beef cattle herd they oversaw. With his canny business sense, and Christabel’s knowledge of computers, they’d been just beginning to show a small profit. It had allowed Christabel to work on her diploma in computer programming, and Judd even had an occasional spending spree. His last, a year ago, involved that cream-colored Stetson slanted over his dark brow. It was made of compressed beaver fur and it had cost him a paycheck. It did suit him, she had to admit. He looked rakishly handsome. Sadly, there hadn’t been any spending sprees this year. There had been a drought and cattle prices had dropped. Times were hard again, just when they’d been looking up.
Any other man would have noticed with amusement the rapt stares of Christabel’s two pretty companions. Judd paid them the same attention he’d have given pine straw. He had something on his mind, and nothing would divert him until he’d resolved it.
He walked right up to Christabel, towering over her, to the astonishment of her classmates.
“We’ve had an offer,” he said, taking her by the upper arm as impersonally as he’d have an apprehended felon. “I need to talk to you.”
“Judd, I’m only between classes,” she protested.
“This won’t take a minute,” he muttered, narrowing his black eyes as he searched for a secluded spot. He found one under a big live oak tree. “Come on.”
She was escorted forcibly to the tree while her companions watched with wide-eyed curiosity. Later, she knew, she was going to be the focus of some probing questions.
“Not that I’m not glad to see you,” she pointed out when he released her abruptly, away from prying ears, “but I only have five minutes...!”
“Then don’t waste them talking,” he cut her off abruptly. His voice was deep, dark velvet, even when he didn’t mean it to be. It sent delicious shivers down Christabel’s spine.
“Okay,” she conceded with a sigh. She held out her hand, palm-up.
He noted the signet ring—his signet ring—that she always wore on her ring finger. Although she’d had it resized, it was still too big for her slender hand. But she insisted on wearing it.
She followed his gaze and flexed her hand. “Nobody knows,” she said. “I don’t gossip.”
“That would be the day,” he agreed, and for just an instant, affectionate humor made those deep-set black eyes twinkle.
“So, what’s the problem?”
“It’s not a problem, exactly,” he said, resting his right hand lazily on the butt of the pistol. The Texas Ranger emblem was carved into the maple wood handle. The new grip for his automatic would have the same wood and custom emblem. The holster and gunbelt that held it were hand-tooled tan leather. “We’ve had an offer from a film crew. They’ve been surveying the land around here, with a representative from the state film commission, looking for a likely spot to site a fictitious ranch. They like ours.”
“A film crew.” She bit her full lower lip. “Judd, I don’t like a lot of people around,” she began.
“I know that. But we want to buy another purebred herd sire, don’t we,” he continued, “and if we get the right kind, he’s going to be expensive. They’ve offered us thirty-five thousand dollars for the use of the ranch for a few weeks’ filming. That would put us over the top. We could even enlarge our electric fencing and replace the tractor.”
She whistled. That amount of money seemed like a fortune. It was always something on a ranch, equipment breakdown or cowboys who wanted more money, or the electric pump went and there was no water. In between, the vet had to be called out to look at sick cattle, there were ear tags and butane for branding, and fencing materials... She wondered what it would be like to be rich and have anything she wanted. The ranch that had belonged jointly to his uncle and her father was still a long way from being prosperous.
“Stop daydreaming,” he said curtly. “I need an answer. I’ve got a case waiting.”
Her eyes widened. “A case? Which case?”
His eyes narrowed. “Not now.”
“It’s the homicide, isn’t it?” she asked excitedly. “The young woman in Victoria who was found with her throat cut, lying in a ditch with only a blouse on. You’ve got a lead!”
“I’m not telling you anything.”
She moved closer. “Listen, I bought fresh apples this morning. I’ve got stick cinnamon. Brown sugar.” She leaned closer. “Real butter. Pastry flour.”
“Stop it,” he groaned.
“Can’t you just see those apples, bubbling away in that crust, until it gets to be a nice, soft, beautiful, flaky...”
“All right!” he ground out, glancing around quickly to make sure nobody was close enough to hear. “She was the wife of a local rancher,” he told her. “Her husband’s story checks out and she didn’t have an enemy in the world. We think it was random.”
“No suspects at all?”
“Not yet. Not much trace evidence, either, except for one hair and a few fibers of highly colored cloth that didn’t match the blouse she was wearing,” he said. He glared at her. “And that’s all you’re getting, apple pie or no apple pie!”
“Okay,” she said, giving in with good grace. She searched his lean, handsome face. “You want us to let the movie company move in,” she added with keen perception.
He nodded. “We’re going to be short about a thousand dollars after we pay estimated taxes next week,” he told her quietly. “We’re going to have to buy more feed. The flooding wiped out most of our hay and corn crops, not to mention the alfalfa. I got the silo fixed, but not in time to help us out any this season. We’re also going to need more vitamin and mineral supplements to mix with the feed.”
“And we’ll have to buy supplemental feed or sell off stock we need,” she said, drawing in a long, wistful breath. “Wouldn’t it be lovely if we had millions,
