Conard County Spy. Rachel Lee

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Conard County Spy - Rachel  Lee Conard County: The Next Generation

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in some ways. Being crippled was harder to deal with than a change of jobs.

      Ryker settled on the couch and crossed his legs loosely. “Sorry, man.”

      “Not so sure I am.” This visit was pointless. He honestly didn’t know what he’d expected to find here in Conard County, Wyoming. Answers to questions about a future he was having trouble facing? He needed a shrink for that, not an old friend. Maybe he should just congratulate Ryker on his new life and get the hell out.

      “You going to be staying in town for a while?” Ryker asked.

      Was that a suggestion he leave? Trace couldn’t tell, but then Ryker had always been difficult to read. “I wasn’t planning to. I just wanted to drop by.”

      Ryker nodded slowly, still watching him. “Where will you go next?”

      “Damned if I know. Does it matter?”

      A faint frown flickered over Ryker’s face. Then he sighed. “Yeah, Trace, it matters. Word I get about you isn’t good. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, you and me, but I’m hearing things. You got trouble on your tail?”

      “I’m not sure. No one’s sure.”

      Ryker stood up then, and now there was no mistaking his reaction. “You brought that trouble right to my door? To my wife and baby?”

      “I’ve been careful. No one knows where I am right now.”

      Ryker paced three steps quickly before turning and stabbing his finger at Trace. “You came here. Who told you how to find me?”

      “Bill.”

      “Bill. Damn it all to hell.”

      Trace stood up, battling to ignore the savage pain in his right arm. “Consider me gone. No one knows I’m here.”

      “I know and Bill knows. That’s one too many. Why the hell did he tell you?”

      “I don’t know. I’m just rambling.”

      “With a tiger on your tail?”

      “Nobody knows that for certain. And frankly, I don’t believe it.”

      This was a side of Ryker that Trace wasn’t used to seeing. Usually the man went into overdrive to help a buddy. Now he was in a different mode, a lion protecting his pride. This had been a huge mistake. He put his coffee down. “I’ll leave now, R.T. Gone tonight.”

      “But to where?”

      “Who cares?”

      Ryker scowled at him. “I do, damn it. They shouldn’t be cutting you loose like this.”

      “I’m a liability now. Obviously.” Nothing like facing the cold, hard truth.

      Ryker shook his head. “Sit down, drink your coffee and shut up. I need to think.”

      An eternity later, Ryker settled and faced him again. “You got a number of IDs? Some that they don’t know about?”

      “A few. I’ve been using different ones everywhere I go.”

      Ryker nodded. “Use one of them tonight. Check into the motel on the edge of town with it. Stay low.”

      “And then?”

      “I’m going to talk to the sheriff here.”

      Everything in Trace rebelled. “You can’t tell him...”

      “I can tell him enough. He’s a good man to have on your side. But one thing you are most definitely not going to do is come back to this house. Got it?”

      “Yeah.” Trace practically snapped the word.

      “Stay tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

      “I’ll leave.”

      Ryker shook his head. “Trace, you’re hanging in the wind. You can’t do that until you die. So shut up and get that room. We’ll talk again tomorrow once I figure out some things.”

      * * *

      Julie Ardlow decided not to head straight home. Instead she went to Maude’s City Diner and ordered a latte to drink while she went over her kindergarten students’ pictures. The exercise was designed to do two things: associate a printed color name with the actual hue, and work on fine motor skills by drawing inside the lines. Each child’s first name had to be crayoned at the top. Beyond that, she didn’t care how much they added their own inventions to the simple picture, but she often enjoyed them.

      The papers all said ball and purple at the top. As long as the ball was purple and was reasonably neat, she didn’t care what they colored the other items or how much they added. The kids seemed to enjoy it, and she had a stack of self-sticking stars and smiley faces to decorate each one with. At this point in the year, most were engaged in simple reading, so she measured their progress, especially in fine motor skills. A big improvement over the beginning of the year.

      And they all made her smile. The boys’ drawings were often decorated with simple rocket ships or planes. The girls’ with flowers or smiling stick figures. Not always, though. Tommy Wells had added what looked like a snake or a dragon to his. Gloria Chase, defying stereotypes as usual, had drawn a big boat on hers.

      When she finished with them, she pulled out another stack from her bag. Word matching this time, simple ones they had all learned to read aloud, drawing a line between the ones that matched in separate columns. Following directions, pattern recognition, reading, and...in one case, one student’s work indicated some clear dyslexia. That had been brought to the school’s attention, and Jason was getting extra help. She gave him a big smiley face and a gold star anyway. She never wanted to discourage a child.

      She felt a cold blast of air behind her and heard the bell over the door ring. She looked over and saw that guy she had met at Ryker and Marisa’s house earlier. Something about him awoke her sexual radar, but she didn’t know why. Maybe because he was new to town? It had been a few years now since she had last felt the desire to even date. And over a decade since her only serious relationship.

      He had the kind of face that would probably fit in anywhere, yet still had a strong appeal. Dark hair, eyes a medium brown, a good jaw. And the steel she had once seen in Ryker. Except this guy looked as if something was seriously wearing on him.

      When his gaze scraped over her, she knew he recognized her, but he started for another table with his coffee anyway. Unable to resist, she waved him over. Somebody new in town. He probably wouldn’t be here long and he knew Ryker, which made him safe enough. She wouldn’t mind a little diversion.

      His reluctance was obvious as he crossed to her booth. “I’m interrupting,” he said immediately, nodding at the papers spread in front of her.

      “A welcome interruption,” she replied. “No point having your coffee all by yourself. Grab a seat.”

      Again, that hesitation. What was with this guy? Usually men didn’t resist her invitation to coffee. Not that she asked many of them. She’d spent her entire life in Conard County, and she knew

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