Bad Love: Cowboy Romance (Rebels & Outlaws 1)

The door tried to close again, and Glen put up a hand again to stop it, stepped inside.

The place was a mess. It looked as if someone had staged a bar-room brawl inside. A pretty-looking girl, her face as red as Glen's shirt, came through, barely dressed enough to be seen in public.

Glen let it slip out of his mind. He didn't have much room to judge, did he? After what he'd been up to the night before, what right did he have to criticize?

But even still, it rubbed him the wrong way. Catherine busied herself opening the blinds while the Sheriff poured out a coffee and straightened up his shirt.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," he said finally, settling into his chair. The tin cup steamed in front of him, but he still took a deep sip. Acted like the heat didn't phase him.

"Missus Howell and I have done some asking around."

"Missus Howell and you, huh?" The Sheriff raised an eyebrow. "And what, pray tell, did your investigation find?"

Glen didn't notice the look Catherine was giving him. If he had, he might have wondered what the two of them weren't saying.

"We found a man, one Avery Beck, who claims that one of the rustlers made an offer to sell to him. To sell him, among others, my cattle. And Missus Howell's."

"Well, well. That sounds pretty damning to me. Did he give a name?"

"Mister Beck gave a description as well as a name." Glen licked his lips. "You want to get out a piece of paper, maybe write this down?"

The Sheriff took a moment to react. "Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." He opened an already-askew drawer, pulled out a pad and pencil.

"G'ahead."

"Reported the seller as one Rodney Dawson, tall, red headed, with blue eyes, and a light-colored long coat."

The Sheriff stopped writing halfway through. "Who did you say gave you this report?"

"Rancher, sixty to seventy years old, name of Avery… Beck."

"Right. He say where we could get hold of him?"

"Only that he had a ranch, a few miles north of Caspar."

The Sheriff finished writing.

"Right. Well, I'll tell you now—Mister Dawson is a respected member of the community, so we'll have to take this report with a certain amount of doubt. But make no mistake, we will give it its due investigation. We'll get back to you when we have more information."

Glen's face hardened.

That was another lie. Sheriff Barnes gave off a good impression. He'd clearly been working on it for some time. But Glen was beginning to find himself souring on the man.

Eighteen

Catherine rubbed her hands off on her apron. Ada had finally gone to sleep. It seemed like after she'd gotten back, Ada especially had latched on to her about as tight as anything, and wouldn't let go.

She hadn't realized how much it would panic the girl to be gone more than a few days. She usually just went into town to get a few men to come back and drive the cattle. The ranch wasn't far out, so a drive rarely meant more than a day out of the house.

It didn't occur to her until later how much the girl must have worried about her mother, about the idea that they weren't going to come back. Not until Ada had thanked Glen for making sure her mama didn't get lost.

Catherine's eyes had burned with the beginnings of tears when she heard that, but she had to keep herself under control. She wasn't going to let the girls see her cry. Four years later, she wasn't going to let the first time that Ada saw tears in her eyes be because of her.

So she'd kept herself together and now that she had a few minutes… she shouldn't have been crying so much. Not like she had lately. Four years had passed. She'd gotten control of herself a long time ago.

Why, all of a sudden, was every little thing setting her off? The hard wooden chair was right there, so Catherine slumped down into it and let herself feel sad a minute. How much had she overlooked? If she missed how worried Ada had been, what else had she missed?

Was she letting her own troubles get in the way of what she needed to do? She could hear Ada's cough again. It was persistent. She didn't like that, not one bit.