Matt: Texas Rascals Book 2 Page 2

  “I need a detailed description of the cattle,” he said after he’d stowed the padlock and straw into evidence bags.

  Savannah crossed her arms over her chest, tipped her head back, and looked down her nose at him as she described the cattle.

  “Were they branded?”

  “Of course.” She pointed at the ten remaining Gerts clustered along the fence row. “A circle with a backward B.”

  “How much were they worth?”

  “Four grand apiece. Seven for the bull.”

  Matt nodded. “That’s felony larceny, and since they cut the padlock and came at night, we might be able to add a burglary charge. Carries a stiffer sentence.” He got to his feet and dusted his fingertips together. “I want to interview your ranch hands. Who are they?”

  “I’ve only got two left—Clem Olson and Julio Diaz.”

  “I don’t know this Julio fellow. Is he new in town?”

  “Hired him about three months ago.”

  “What kind of references does he have?”

  She lifted her shoulders in a defensive gesture. “Julio showed up willing to work for what I could pay.”

  Matt stared at her, incredulous. “You didn’t check his references?”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of being choosy. He’s the only one who applied for the job.”

  “How do you know he’s not an illegal?” Matt chided, disturbed by her glib trust in a total stranger.

  “I don’t.”

  “You’d be breaking the law, Savannah.”

  “He showed me a social security card.”

  “Those can be faked.”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Are you going to arrest me, Matt?”

  Damn that hardheaded streak of hers. Frustrated, he plowed a hand through his hair. “You allow a total stranger to stay at your ranch without checking his background? Two women and a baby living all alone out here.”

  She shrugged.

  “Very foolhardy, Mrs. Markum.” He forced himself to say her married name. The word “Markum” caught in his throat, bitter as gall.

  “Clem lives here, too.”

  “Yeah. But Clem as old as the hills and twice as slow.”

  “That’s why I had to hire a younger man to do the ranch work.” Her tone held a bit of acid.

  “You still should have checked him out.”

  “I trust Julio. He’s very loyal.”

  Unlike you. Immediately, Matt was ashamed of his unkind thought. It wasn’t like him. But damn if that old hurt hadn’t crawled up to the surface of his skin.

  “Are you finished raking me over the coals?”

  Her blind trust in this Julio character made him want to suck ground glass. Didn’t she realize she’d laid herself wide open for trouble? Whatever had happened to those Santa Gertrudis, Julio Diaz could be involved. Matt met her bold gaze, narrowed his eyes, and mentally dared her to look away.

  She stared him down, rising to his unspoken challenge. “Well?”

  2

  Looking deep into those murky brown eyes, Savannah inhaled fiercely. She felt as if she’d hit a brick wall traveling ninety miles an hour—shattered, splattered, gone.

  “Do you think I might speak to the trustworthy Mr. Diaz?” Matt’s tone oozed sarcasm.

  “He’s gone into town.”

  “Convenient.”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “Nothing. Merely making an observation.”

  “Maybe you should keep your observations to yourself.” Why was she being prickly?

  “May be.”

  They stood like two warriors. Each ready for battle, but neither quite sure why they were fighting.

  Savannah finally dropped her gaze, unable to continue the intensity. Looking at him brought back all the old pain, the loneliness, the moments of despair, precipitated by that awful night at Kelly’s bar after he’d been shot trying to break up a fight.

  Briefly, she closed her eyes and swallowed hard, remembering the scene as if it were yesterday—the dark interior of Kelly’s noisy, smoky bar. Crowded on a Saturday evening in Rascal, Texas with cowpokes and their girls. The jukebox blaring Hank Williams’s “I’m So Lonesome I Could Cry” just before the fight broke out.

  “How about Clem?” he asked.

  “Huh?” Savannah blinked herself back to the present.

  “Is he here? I’d like to question him about the disappearing cattle.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Clem is in the barn.”

  “Anything else missing?” Matt arched an eyebrow.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Better check on that, too. The thieves have been taking ranching equipment along with the cattle. Even stole one of your neighbor’s gold-plated rodeo belt buckle.”

  “Who?”

  “Kurt McNally.”

  “So there have been other robberies?”

  Matt nodded.

  “You think it’s an organized ring?”

  “Yes, I do. I’ll need for you to inventory your supplies.”

  “Okay.”

  “Let’s go talk to Clem.”

  The awkward silence grew as they drove to her farmhouse. So much lay between them, unresolved, unspoken, buried beneath the surface ready to explode. Matt held his shoulders rigid, his jaw clenched tight.

  “So, you’ve got yourself a ranch,” he said at last.

  Savannah wasn’t sure how to respond. “Gary left the ranch to me, yes.”

  “Is that why you married him, Savannah? To get your hands on the Circle B?”

  She stared at him. Was that what Matt really thought of her? Did he believe her to be so mercenary that she’d marry for money?

  If he only knew the truth!

  And as far as money went, well, she hovered one step away from bankruptcy. Gary’s medical bills had eaten up a large chunk of his money, leaving little to run the ranch. The loss of the Gerts made things worse since she’d intended on selling some of them to pay for Ginger’s wedding.

  “I married Gary because he was a good, honest man.” Who promised to be a loving father to her son as long as she never let anyone know that Cody wasn’t his.

  “But did you love him?” The word “love” broke brittle against Matt’s tongue, like the sound of cracking glass.

  “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  Matt snorted. “I never really knew you, did I, Savannah?”

  What could she possibly say to that? “I suppose not.”

  At one time, she’d thought she knew everything about Matt Forrester—his affinity for Dutch chocolate ice cream on a waffle cone, his dislike of social media, the salty taste of his skin, his hopes and dreams of one day becoming sheriff of Presidio County.

  The same dreams that had driven the initial wedge between them. Matt’s law enforcement ambitions had always troubled her, and after he’d been wounded, it had been too much for her to take. Now, she realized just how foolishly naive she’d really been. She’d never known what was in his heart.

  He stopped the Jeep outside the barn. Relieved, Savannah got out, anxious to distance herself from this man who dredged up a past she wanted desperately to forget.

  “Clem,” she called out, aware of Matt following doggedly in her tracks.

  The elderly ranch hand appeared in the doorway of the barn, wiping his hands on an oil-smeared rag. “Whatcha need, Miss Savannah?”

  “Mr. Forrester would like to speak with you about the missing cattle.”

  “Oh.” Clem shifted his weight and dropped his gaze.

  Matt pulled a black notebook and a pen from his pocket. He moved forward and extended his hand. “Hello, Clem, do you remember me?”

  Clem nodded and grasped Matt’s hand but quickly let go. “Sure do, you’re Asa Forrester’s boy.”

  “That’s right.”

  Clem sized Matt up with a sideways glance. “Done pretty good for yourself, I see.”

  “I was lucky enough to get the job I wanted.”


  Lucky, hell. Savannah knew Matt had poured his heart and soul into pursuing a law enforcement career. Hard work, determination, and personal sacrifice had landed him the job. She was proud of him, even if she did hate the danger that came with the job.

  “Yeah,” Clem said. “Some of us ain’t been so lucky.”

  “I want you to tell me about the missing cattle.” Matt waited, pen poised over the notepad.

  “Mind if I smoke?” Clem asked, digging in his shirt pocket with nicotine-stained fingers for a pack of cigarettes.

  “You nervous, Clem?” Matt asked.

  “Me? Nah. Why should I be nervous?” Clem struck a match, fumbling it to the ground.

  Savannah noticed his hand trembled slightly as he tried again, this time succeeding in his attempt to light the cigarette.

  Matt pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Clem, you tell me.”

  “I ain’t got nothin’ to hide.”

  “That’s good.” Matt gave the man a dangerous smile. “Then you haven’t got anything to worry about.”

  “Are you accusing me of somethin’?” Clem took a drag off his cigarette.

  “Just doing my job, Mr. Olson.”

  Clem sent Savannah a beseeching glance. “You don’t think I stole them cows, do you, Miss Savannah?”

  “Of course not, Clem.” She glared at Matt. Why was he badgering the elderly man? Clem was obviously too old to be a threat. Besides, he’d worked for Gary’s family for over twenty years. If Matt thought Clem was involved, he was barking up the wrong tree.

  “It’s my duty to be suspicious of everyone.” Matt sent Savannah a look so cool that it startled her. Did he consider her a suspect, too? What rubbish. Why would she steal her own cattle?

  “We first noticed something unusual when Julio and I went out to feed this morning.” The cigarette seemed to have boosted Clem’s confidence.

  “What did you see?” Matt quizzed.

  Clem shrugged. “West pasture gate hanging open. We drove closer and saw the busted lock.”

  “Is that when you reported the thefts to Mrs. Markum?”

  “No.”

  “When did you report it?”

  “Lunchtime.”

  “Why did you wait?”

  An uneasy expression crossed Clem’s face. “Didn’t want to worry her needlessly. She’s got enough troubles right now. I wanted to make sure the Gerts hadn’t just gotten out before I alarmed her.”

  “How very gallant of you,” Matt mocked.

  When had he become so hard? The Matt she remembered was kindhearted and generous to a fault. Had working in law enforcement changed him, or was it something else?

  “Julio and I searched for a downed fence,” Clem continued. “We kept hoping the cattle had just wandered off.”

  “Rather optimistic. So how long after you discovered the cattle missing did you report this to Mrs. Markum?”

  “About five hours.”

  “Five hours?”

  “Yes.”

  “Long time to wait, isn’t it?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Why did you wait five hours, Clem? Don’t you realize it’s important to report a crime as soon as possible? For all your stalling, the cattle could be in Mexico by now.” Matt’s face darkened.

  “I... I...just wanted to protect Miss Savannah,” Clem stuttered.

  “Leave him alone,” Savannah said.

  Matt turned on his heels to face her. “You got a problem?”

  “This isn’t a trial, and you’re not a prosecutor. Stop harassing him.”

  “Do you want me to take him in for questioning?”

  “No, sir,” Clem said. “I’ll cooperate.”

  “Thank you,” Matt told the older man. “Now, did you or Julio see or hear anything out of the ordinary over the last few days? Any strangers hanging around? People asking questions about the ranch? Anything like that?”

  Clem shook his head.

  “What do you think about Julio Diaz?”

  “He’s a hard worker.”

  “Does he ever have visitors?”

  “Nope. Real quiet. Keeps to himself.” Clem relaxed a little, crushing the spent cigarette butt beneath the toe of his boot.

  “Have you noticed anything else missing?” Matt asked.

  Clem shook his head.

  “Think real hard.” Matt stepped forward, thrusting out his chest in an intimidating stance. “Any equipment missing? Saddles? Barrels? Feed? Rope? Even something as simple as gardening tools?”

  “No, sir.”

  Savannah folded her arms. She’d never seen this authoritative side of Matt—the inquisitive, hard-nosed detective. And although she dreaded having him so close, she was glad he was on the case. If anyone could get her cattle returned, Matt could.

  He looked at Savannah. “You, too. I want an inventory of your equipment. I want to know if even one nail is missing.”

  “Why are you so sure they took more than just the cattle?” Savannah asked.

  “Because in the last three months, there have been six thefts in this county, and each and every time, as I said before, the robbers took supplies as well as cattle. Usually, things they could pawn quickly. Now, please get that inventory list together for me.”

  Savannah raised her chin. As if she had time for that. “After I finish sewing the zipper into Ginger’s wedding dress.”

  “No,” Matt corrected. “You’ll make it your first priority.”

  Anger flared inside her. Who did he think he was? Thank heavens she hadn’t been stupid enough to marry such a bossy, opinionated male. “Listen here, Matt Forrester.”

  “Could I have a glass of water?” He interrupted her.

  “Of course.” Savannah led him across the yard, through the back door, and into the kitchen. Cody sat in his high chair, happily spitting mashed potatoes at Ginger. Savannah got Matt a glass of water just as the phone at his waistband rang. He set down the glass and picked up his phone.

  “What’s up?” her younger sister mouthed silently.

  Savannah shrugged, took the bowl of potatoes from Ginger, and smiled at her son. “Come on, Cody Coo, eat a bite for Mama.”

  Cody waved his hands and shook his head.

  Savannah pretended to be engrossed in feeding her son, but she couldn’t help listening to Matt’s conversation.

  “Forrester here,” Matt growled into the phone. He turned his back on Savannah and Ginger. Lowered his voice. “What’s up?”

  “Isn’t this awful?” Ginger whispered in Savannah’s ear. “Matt Forrester, of all people, assigned to our case.”

  Savannah rolled her eyes, but her heart gave a little hop. It wasn’t awful. Not at all.

  “When?” Matt asked the person on the other end of the line. “Right. I’ll get on it immediately. Thanks for the tip, Megan. I owe you.”

  Megan? Who was she?

  Matt hung up the phone, then turned to face Savannah. “I’ve got to go,” he said.

  “Something more important?”

  Matt pulled a key fob from his pocket and shot her a sidelong glance. “Remember I told you about Kurt McNally’s gold belt buckle?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Some pawn owner reported a guy trying to hock Kurt’s belt buckle in San Antonio.”

  “You’re going to San Antonio?”

  “Yep.”

  “Now?”

  “It’s my job. Good thing you married a rancher instead of a sheriff’s detective, eh, Savvy.”

  Savvy.

  The old term of endearment sliced through her, barbed-wire sharp. No one but Matt had ever called her Savvy.

  “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?” she asked, following him to the front door.

  “Keep your eyes and ears open, make out that inventory list. I’ll be back as soon as I can to speak to Mr. Diaz.”

  She raised a hand to her throat. For the first time, a tug of fear ate at her. She, Ginger, and the baby were alone, isolated, unprotected.

&nb
sp; “What if the thieves come back?”

  An arrogant grin crossed his face. “Why, darlin’, you just tell them Detective Matt Forrester is on their case.”

  And with that, he leaned down and planted a quick kiss on her startled lips…then he turned and swaggered out the door.

  3

  Why in Sam Hill had he kissed her?

  What had he been thinking? Had he lost his ever loving mind?

  Still, the look on Savannah’s face had been priceless. Matt had definitely caught her off guard, but that brief brushing of their lips had undone him, too. There was no denying it, the sparks remained, just as hot and electric as ever.

  Matt guided the Jeep onto the freeway, heading east to San Antonio. His behavior had been unprofessional. He couldn’t allow himself to be sidetracked by Savannah. He had to stop thinking of her. Had to quit visualizing her long legs, her soft flesh pressed flush against his skin, her fingers entwined in his hair.

  Her.

  “Ugh!” He groaned aloud and shook his head. This had to stop.

  He switched on the satellite radio to an all-news station in an attempt to empty his head. Concentrate on the thefts. Piece together the puzzle. Review the evidence. Anything. Anything at all to eliminate the intoxicating vision of Savannah Markum from his brain.

  Fact—in the course of the last three months, six ranches had been robbed and over fifty head of cattle stolen in Presidio County. Various ranching and farming equipment had also been taken, including saddles, bridles, baling wire, lanterns, Kurt McNally’s gold belt buckle, posthole diggers, even a tractor.

  Most of the burglaries occurred at night or when the owners were out of town. The perpetrator had to be someone familiar with the area and the comings and goings of the local residents. Matt knew that much for sure.

  But he had few clues. Until Kurt’s belt buckle. The thieves were making him feel like a fool, and Matt Forrester hated to be one-upped. He would not be defeated.

  For the last two years, since Savannah broke up with him after he got shot and told her that he loved her, he’d funneled all his energy into law enforcement. He lived it, breathed it, reveled in it. The job sustained him, nourished him, fed him through that dark period in his life after Savannah married another man.

  The experience honed him into a razor-sharp detective. He should thank Savannah for dumping him.