* *
SID PUT ON clean jeans and a sweater to go to the grocery store. Often she went in her paint-streaked pants and shirts. Anyone who paid any attention was aware that she painted since she spent most Saturdays at the local craft show selling her wares.
Not her paintings, but haphazardly done Montana scenes on everything from old metal saw blades and antique milk cans to ancient tractor parts and windmill blades. Amazingly, her crafts sold well, which proved to her that most people didn’t know the difference between good art and bad.
But today she wanted to fly under the radar. No reason to call attention to herself as an artist. It might be too risky if the man from last night was still in town. She knew she was being silly. He’d probably completely forgotten about her.
She assumed he would have gone to the marshal last night with a story about her robbing that house. Since the painting wouldn’t be missing, she wasn’t worried.
Her only regret was losing the painting. She needed it. Which meant she had to get it back. Or taking all these chances would have been for nothing.
Where was the painting now? She’d learned at a young age to make friends where needed. Now she picked up the phone and called her friend who worked at the marshal’s office as she drove to the grocery store.
After the usual pleasantries, she said, “So what’s new down there?” Dispatcher Tara Kirkwood loved her job because she got to know everything that was going on—and she loved to share it.
“Counterfeit bills keep turning up,” Tara said, keeping her voice down although the office was small and she was probably the only person down there right then. The marshal and detectives were probably out.
She and Tara had established long ago that anything Tara told her wouldn’t go any further—and it never had. “The marshal is chasing one right now that was passed at the Corral Bar.”
“No more cat burglar sightings?” she asked after listening to what Tara knew about the counterfeit bills.
“Actually, before Hud left, he said his wife’s cousin who is in town caught the cat burglar last night.” She laughed. “According to him, the burglar turned out to be a her.”
“No kidding? So is she locked up down there?”
“Naw, she got away.” Tara laughed again. “Hud got a chuckle out of it since apparently there was no crime and his cousin-in-law was quite taken with the woman.”
Sid laughed even though this was not what she wanted to hear. The marshal’s cousin-in-law? Just her luck. Not to mention “quite taken with her”? Really? She thought of the kiss. It might have been a mistake since she’d had a hard time forgetting about it, as well.
“What’s the guy’s name?” she asked.
“Laramie Cardwell.”
Cardwell? Anyone who lived in the Gallatin Canyon knew that name. The Cardwell Ranch was one of the first established in the canyon. But she’d never heard of a Laramie Cardwell before.
“You said he was in town. So he’s not from here?” she asked even though she knew his accent was way too Southern.
“His father is Angus Cardwell. Apparently his mother got a divorce years ago and took her five sons to live in Texas. Laramie’s up here from Houston. He and his brothers own that new place, Texas Boys Barbecue.”
“Huh.”
“Have you tried it yet?” Tara asked.
“No. I’ve been meaning to, though,” she said, realizing it was true.
“It’s really good.”
“So did the so-called cat burglar get away with anything?” she had to ask. “You said no crime was committed?”
“Laramie found a painting, but it wasn’t stolen from the house. I overheard Hud say Laramie is hanging on to it. Kind of like a souvenir.”
Sid mouthed a silent oath. She’d reached Meadow Village and the grocery store. “So now it’s hanging at Cardwell Ranch,” she joked.
“More than likely at his new house,” Tara said.
“His new house?”
The dispatcher dropped her voice even further. “The house that he caught her allegedly robbing? He’s buying it.”
Sid pulled into a parking spot in front of the store. Tara was always a wealth of information. “Now that is a coincidence,” she said. “So apparently he’s staying.”
“At least for the holidays I would think. You really should try their barbecue. It is so good.”
“I just might do that. Got to go. Sure hope they catch those counterfeiters.”
“Me, too. Hud is fit to be tied. It will be nice when things die back down around here.”
Disconnecting, Sid parked in front of the grocery, thinking about everything Tara had said. How was she going to get the painting back? She’d never been one to push her luck and hitting the same house twice was more than risky, especially since now Laramie Cardwell might be expecting her. But did she really have a choice?
Her stomach growled. Still hungry and realizing it was almost lunchtime, she looked up the hill at the sign for Texas Boys Barbecue.
* * *
THE FAMILY HAD gathered at the Cardwell Ranch for lunch. Everyone but Laramie.
“What’s going on with him?” Austin asked. For years he had been the no-show brother, the one who caught grief because he didn’t play family well. Since meeting Gillian and returning to his birthplace, he’d changed. He loved these family get-togethers.
“He’s looking for the cat burglar,” McKenzie said. “And the four of you can blame yourself for that if you’re behind this.”
“What?” Austin asked, looking around the table. Hayes told him what he knew, Hud added his part and McKenzie finished it up. “Seriously? Laramie is trying to find this woman?” He turned to Hayes. “You told him we had nothing to do with this, right?”
“I swore we didn’t.”
Austin groaned. “So he might actually be chasing a real cat burglar.”
“Only if the cat burglar is a young woman with silvery-blue eyes,” Hud said, shaking his head. “This whole cat burglar thing started when a few residents saw a dark-clad figure sneaking around a couple of houses. But the bottom line is that no one has reported being burglarized. No valuables or paintings are missing.”
“So you think it’s a hoax,” Austin said.
“I do,” the marshal agreed. “Probably the local security company put the woman up to it to drum up more business. A lot of the people in Big Sky are from urban areas so security is a concern for them. The rest of us locals don’t even bother to lock our doors.”
“He told me he was going to visit the artist
