Duke: Deputy Cowboy

His Heart Is On The Line

Deputy sheriff and aspiring rodeo star Dylan “Duke” Adams has his hands full with the recent string of burglaries in Roundup, Montana, especially when the thief strikes at his family’s ranch. Duke is trying to focus on the case, but he can’t stop thinking about a different thief—the petite blonde who just stole his heart.

Angie Barrington can’t stand the rodeo. Though she’s seen plenty of abused rodeo animals at her rescue ranch, for Angie it runs even deeper. No matter how kind and compassionate Duke is, at the end of the day he’s still a cowboy. Right?

When Duke makes it to the national finals, he finally has a chance to bring prestige—and much-needed money—to Thunder Ranch. But if competing means losing the woman of his dreams, how can he ever win?

“Are you aware there are rumors floating around town,” Duke said carefully, “uh, connecting you to a top-tier bronc rider?”

Angie’s jaw dropped. Duke saw color splash her cheeks and he regretted saying anything at all.

“The man wants nothing to do with us.” Angie scraped back her hair with one hand, showing her irritation. “I have no idea where he even is,” she said with fierce finality. But her eyes filled with such a deep sadness that Duke, uncharacteristically, stepped close and wrapped her in a hug.

For a moment, Angie melted against Duke’s broad chest. She felt soft and feminine in his arms. But just when he thought she was going to pull him closer, she cleared her throat nervously and squirmed away.

Considering how flustered Angie looked now, Duke thought he probably ought to opt out of joining them for supper tonight. But Angie lit fires in him like no woman had before.

And whether she realized it or not, he suspected the feeling was mutual.

Dear Reader,

Linked stories done by a group of authors are a lot of fun to write. While it involves weeks of getting to know one another’s characters and writing styles, the collaboration experience is great. I was lucky enough to know nearly all six authors who share the Harts of Rodeo books, and I always snap up their books knowing they will be good reading. My hope is that all of our readers will love the cowboys/cowgirls in the Hart family and the people they fall in love with as much as we do.

I had a great time working with my fellow authors on this miniseries, and I’d like to thank Cathy McDavid, C.J. Carmichael, Shelley Galloway, Marin Thomas and Linda Warren for making the experience so wonderful. Be sure to follow the series with Shelley’s book, Austin: Second Chance Cowboy, which is available in October.

I love hearing from all my readers. You can contact me by email at rdfox@cox.net, or by letter at 7739 E. Broadway Blvd #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941.

Sincerely,

Roz

Duke: Deputy Cowboy

Roz Denny Fox

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roz saw her first book, Red Hot Pepper, published by Harlequin Books in February 1990. She’s written for several Harlequin series, as well as online serials and special projects. Besides being a writer, Roz has worked as a medical secretary and as an administrative assistant in both an elementary school and a community college. Part of her love for writing came from moving around with her husband during his tenure in the Marine Corps and as a telephone engineer. The richness of settings and the diversity of friendships she experienced continue to make their way into her stories. Roz enjoys corresponding with readers either via email, rdfox@cox.net, or by mail (7739 E. Broadway Blvd #101, Tucson, AZ 85710-3941). You can also check her website, www.Korynna.com/RozFox.

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Over the course of my writing career I’ve dedicated a book to almost everyone in my family except, I discovered, my two grandsons. Through nothing I did, there are two characters in these continuity books by the names of Austin and Evan—which are my grandsons’ names. I’m not sure they’ve read any of my stories to date, but I’m counting on them being enlightened enough one day to feel good about reading a romance.

So Duke: Deputy Cowboy is for them.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Recipe

Excerpt

Chapter One

Dylan “Duke” Adams drove through the silent, shuttered town of Roundup, Montana, in the wee hours of Monday morning, headed home from a summer-weekend rodeo in Wyoming. Because he also served as Roundup’s part-time deputy sheriff he eyed businesses along the main street to see they were locked up tight and that side streets were vacant of anyone up to mischief.

Although, the problems of late that he and his cousin Sheriff Dinah Hart dealt with weren’t in-town robberies, but worrisome break-ins at outlying ranches.

He’d driven by himself to the rodeo in Sheridan. His twin brother, Beau, and cousin Colt Hart had both gone on to events in other states. Duke had earned good points in Wyoming despite the rank bull he’d drawn. And he felt great. If he made the National Finals Rodeo and won, it’d mean added prestige for him as a champion bull rider and would enhance business for the family ranch.

Still, his ride hadn’t been perfect and Beau nagged him to ride midweek in Custer, South Dakota. Beau nagged a lot. He knew Duke had promised Dinah he’d get home to help investigate the string of ranch burglaries piling up—too many for comfort.

Zorro, Duke’s German shepherd named for his black face mask, snored away in the backseat of Duke’s pickup. The Ford’s engine growled as Duke turned down an alley, a shortcut to his parking space outside his ground-floor apartment. As if sensing the change in the engine’s tempo, Zorro sat up, yawned and licked Duke’s ear.

“Easy, boy, we’re almost home.” Duke reached back to rub Zorro’s ears and immediately winced. He’d forgotten about the injury he’d sustained when he couldn’t release his bull rope quickly enough on his final bull. His fingers felt puffier now than when he’d left Sheridan. He should ice his hand down again, but, man, was he beat.

Pocketing his keys, Duke collected his duffel of dirty clothes and emptied it straight into the washer on his way through his back door. He stopped in the kitchen to draw Zorro a bowl of fresh water before heading to his bedroom where he stripped and jumped into a hot shower. Still damp, he fell into bed. Seconds later he heard Zorro pad in and settle on his dog bed. Almost at once the pet Duke had raised from a pup began to snore like a freight train. Duke rolled over, feeling his mind and body relax.

* * *

DUKE JOLTED OUT OF A SOUND sleep as his cell phone blared an obnoxious tune Beau had programmed into his phone as a joke. He patted the nightstand then recalled leaving the phone in the pocket of the jeans he’d kicked off at the foot of his bed. The room was black as spades. Zorro bounded up, barking his fool head off, making locating the phone more chaotic.

Shushing him, Duke scrabbled around hunting for his pants. He hit his sore hand on the bedside table and swore roundly. The bedside clock said 4:45 a.m. He’d slept for maybe two hours, he thought, digging out the noisy instrument at last. Any call at this hour meant trouble. “ ’Lo,” he rasped, doing his best to clear his foggy head.

“Duke, sorry to bother you. I’m sure you got in late from the rodeo.”

“Dinah?” He yawned in her ear. “It’s okay. Where are you at this unholy hour? Who’s that yakking in the background?”

“I’m at the ranch. There’s been another break-in.”

“What ranch?”

“Thunder Ranch,” she said. “Aunt Sarah set her alarm for 4:15 a.m. to check on a pregnant mare that’s had trouble. She found the barn doors open, called your dad, and Uncle Josh saw how the thieves went in through the back.”

“What’s missing this time?” Duke asked.

“More saddles. A couple of new bridles Beau crafted. None were as sentimental or expensive as Dad’s saddle these damn thieves made off with before, but bad all the same.”

“Dang, Dinah, Beau will be sick. He intended to sell the bridles at the Roundup rodeo.”

“Yeah, well, there’s worse—the horse is gone. Can you come help me calm the family and look for clues? As you might imagine, it’s bedlam here.”

“I’ll be right there.” Duke dug underwear out of his dresser drawer as he digested Dinah’s words. “You mean someone stole the pregnant mare?”

“No, the stallion. Midnight. He’s not in the pen behind the barn where Ace put him, or anywhere else that we can find. Ace had separated him from Fancy Gal because Midnight had a cough, and she’s with foal. He didn’t want to risk a chance of her miscarrying.”

“Holy horsefeathers!” Duke hopped around on one foot, tugging on clean jeans. “Is that my dad, Ace and Aunt Sarah arguing?”

Dinah lowered her voice further. “Yes. Ace is still peeved that Mom backed Colt’s decision to enter Midnight in rodeos. He called Colt on the circuit and read him the riot act. Ace thinks putting Midnight out there to buck will let people see his worth.”

Duke rifled through his closet for an official work shirt. “I’ll grant you the stallion is worth a mint, Dinah. But the thieves are stupid to take such an identifiable horse.”

“I’ll let you tell Ace that,” she said, sounding unhappy.

“Hang on. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” he said, even though he was dead on his feet.

Typical of Dinah, she said, “Don’t break speed limits.”

Duke signed off, pinned on his badge, loaded Zorro and jumped in his truck. As far as he knew this was the first time there had been a second break-in at any ranch. The first burglary at Thunder Ranch, pricy items were taken, along with small implements. The full cost wasn’t covered by insurance. And the premiums went up. A saddle of Beau’s turned up at a secondhand shop way over in Butte. The shop owner identified the piece from photos Duke and Dinah had circulated on the internet. He didn’t know who sold him the saddle. He assumed it came from a down-on-his-luck rodeo cowboy.

Duke reached the ranch in time to hear Ace connect with Beau in South Dakota and ask him to check on new bucking entries.

“Stay,” Duke ordered Zorro, and the dog dropped to his belly. Duke interrupted Ace with an exaggerated whisper. “Did Dinah tell you I think it’d be dumb for thieves to enter a well-known horse like Midnight on the national rodeo circuit? Maybe in Podunk rodeos, though,” Duke added, giving the matter a second thought.

Ace ended his call. “You may be right, Duke. Colt said something similar when I laced into him. He called Leah back and said he wished he could come home and help us hunt for Midnight. He can’t. This trip, he and Royce are hauling our bucking stock to two more rodeos, and he knows we need the money.”

Duke glanced around at the milling family. Leah and Colt lived on the property in a double-wide mobile home they’d bought a few weeks ago, until they could afford to build a house. She worked as the ranch accountant. Colt, at the ripe age of thirty-two, same as Duke, had fallen head over heels in love with Leah Stockton, a woman he hadn’t seen since high school—a divorcée with two kids. Their love affair sent ripples through the family, but was nothing compared to Colt’s other bombshell—a confession he had a son he’d never told his mom, his brothers or anyone in the family about. Duke hated those kinds of family upsets.

The mobile home sat a ways from the house and barns, so Leah or the kids likely wouldn’t have heard anything, he figured.

Ace, too, had recently married and moved off the ranch. He and Flynn rented Flynn’s dad’s house. Duke glanced around, trying to re-create the scene. He saw Leah and Flynn, who’d finally begun to look pregnant, deep in conversation with Dinah. His aunt Sarah leaned against the small corral, talking to his dad. Another ranch hand, Gracie, strode away. She probably had chores to start. Duke thought his aunt looked really pale. “Hey, Aunt Sarah, do you have coffee at the house? I didn’t get in until 3:00 a.m. I could use some to prop open my eyes.”

She perked up as if she needed a mission. “A coffee break will do us all good, Duke. It’ll take only a few minutes to brew a pot. I’ll bring out a tray when it’s done. Leah, do you want me to take Jill and Davey up to the house and feed them breakfast?”

“Oh, please,” Leah said, looking grateful. “I saw them peering out the window, wondering what’s going on. I’ll go get the kids right now.”

Spotting Duke, Dinah strode over. “I’m furious at whoever did this. At first I thought it was a sloppy break-in. But they used saddle blankets to cover the interior barn camera and the perimeter one. Our saddle blankets, which they stole last time. This time they took Mom’s carved wooden toolbox. Something scared them off before they could load the horse head sculpture. But they moved it to the door.”

“Are there tire tracks?”

“No. It hasn’t rained in a while. If it’d been last month during our deluge, tracks would be easy to spot and follow.”

“Have you phoned neighbors?”

“I decided to wait until more were up, but I’ll do it now. I didn’t see the sense in rousting neighbors from their beds. Everyone’s been on alert, so if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious I’m confident they would have called in.”

“I suppose. But the last break-in was a month ago. Enough time for people to let down their guard. And this time they had to pull a horse trailer. I know most folks wouldn’t notice if a rig with a trailer passed, but some might wonder at the hour. When do you figure the break-in happened?”

“Between when Ace looked in on the mare around eleven last night and 4:15 a.m. when Mom came out.” Dinah opened a case folder, took out her phone and started making calls.

Duke followed Ace into the ranch office where he said Midnight’s papers were filed. Ace had kept a list of everyone who’d bid on the horse at auction. Several ranchers wanted Midnight. Ace and Earl McKinley had actively bid against each other.

“We know everyone on this list,” Ace said. “Some have had their ranches hit.”

“What about Earl? He wanted Midnight almost more than you and Aunt Sarah. Everyone knows there was a rivalry with Uncle John. Could Earl be behind this?”

Flynn, Ace’s wife, who had come up behind the men without either of them hearing her, exclaimed angrily, “I can’t believe you would accuse my father of stooping so low, Duke Adams! He’s honest to a fault, and that rivalry ended when John died. Besides, Dad has moved to Billings.”

“Sorry. I knew that, Flynn. It’s just these robberies are a black mark against Dinah and me, and no horse has been stolen before. The first few break-ins we chalked up to kids. Now I think they’re too clever by far.”

Dinah joined them, and Sarah brought in coffee. “I’m taking these thefts personally,” Dinah declared, setting down her folder to accept a steaming mug. “So far every theft has been in my jurisdiction.”

“There must be something we’ve missed,” Duke muttered, also claiming a mug. “I know Colt thought taillights at the first robbery here were a Dodge pickup. But half the trucks around are Rams.” Duke sat at the desk with his coffee and opened Dinah’s file. He sifted through pages of her notes. “They rob in our county, but unload their goods halfway across the state. I take it you reached all the neighbors along Thunder Road?”

“All but Rob Parker,” Dinah said. “According to his wife, he left before sunup to deliver hay to his leased acreage across town. She’ll have him call when he returns.”

Duke turned to a clean sheet of paper. “Meanwhile, let’s take an inventory.”

They worked until noon, rechecking everything in the office, tack room, feed storage and barns, relying on Sarah, Ace and Josh Adams to say what all was missing. Winding down, Sarah and Leah insisted they break for lunch. They all trudged into the big ranch kitchen where the women assembled sliced meat, cheese, bread and tossed a fresh salad while Duke, Ace, Josh and another of the hired hands went back outside to walk every inch of ground from behind the barn where the thieves broke in, to the highway and along the ditches to see if they’d overlooked any small thing.

They hadn’t, and it was a glum crew who ate in silence, except for Leah’s kids, who chased around with Zorro, giggling and having a good time.

Pushing back, Duke stacked his plate with others who’d finished eating. Standing, he said, “Ace, if you have photos of Midnight, I’ll make flyers to blanket the area and post a missing-horse notice on the ranch website.”

Leah left the children with Sarah and excused herself to go pay some bills. Duke’s dad and Flynn drifted away. Josh had a stake in the ranch, but rarely ventured an opinion unless directly solicited. Duke wished he related to his dad better, but the truth was his twin and their dad had the better rapport.

Duke gathered the photos and prepared to leave just as Rob Parker phoned Dinah. Being up almost eleven hours straight, plus eating, had made Duke so rummy he missed most of Dinah’s conversation with the neighbor.

When she clicked off, she beckoned him over. “I had to pull this bit of information out of Rob. He noticed a black horse standing in a field with a donkey and a sorrel mare with a blaze face at Barrington Rescue Ranch. The sun was in his eyes, so he couldn’t tell the black’s gender. It could be Midnight.”

“Angie Barrington wouldn’t steal Midnight,” Sarah declared. “I volunteer a couple of mornings a week at her shelter. Angie is as sweet as can be. Duke, you’ve seen her and her son at our Family Friendship Church. She’s passionate about saving injured animals, but she’d never steal one.”

Ace spoke up. “I treat some of her rescue animals, and I agree with Mom about Angie’s integrity.”

Dinah twisted her hair off her neck. “It’s well-known Midnight was difficult to settle when you first got him, Ace. Integrity or not, I’ve heard Angie thinks all rodeo animals are mistreated. Duke, I need to head back to the office. You go to Barrington’s and have a look around. If you need a warrant for access, call and I’ll bring one out.”

Duke hesitated. He did often accompany his aunt to church, so he’d seen Angie there and in town. He mostly ran into the petite blonde at the feed or tack stores, and he found her attractive—really attractive. But he’d die before he would admit that to any of his family. He had heard from guys on the rodeo circuit about Angie’s aversion to rodeo riders. Rumor suggested a big-name Texas bronc champion wanted to marry her, but she’d dumped him because he used spurs when he rode. Locals laughed, insisting the joke was on her when she discovered she was pregnant and the guy refused to marry her. Duke didn’t know how much of the gossip was true. Crazy stories made their way around the circuit, and were often embellished and retold until no one knew the real truth.

Still, his palms grew sweaty at the notion of waltzing up to knock on Angie Barrington’s door. “I didn’t get much sleep, Dinah. Can’t you as easily swing past Angie’s ranch?”

“I could, but Cliff West, who is printing T-shirts for our sponsorship of the rodeo’s Wild Pony Race, called to say he has one shirt ready for me to approve. He closes early today, so I need to get going and stop there on my way to the office.”

Duke slowly released a pent-up breath. “Oh, fine. I’ll go by Barrington’s after I hunt up Aunt Sarah and give her some money from the event I won in Sheridan.”

“Hey, hey, you won again? Good going,” Ace said, slapping Duke’s back. “That ought to leave you sitting in great contention for the finals.”

Duke grinned. “Yep. Beau thinks I should hit the next couple of rodeos with him, but he can be such a mother hen, always pushing me to pile up more points.”

Ace and Duke fell to discussing bull riding, and Dinah took off. Spotting his aunt emerging from Leah and Colt’s mobile home, Duke flagged her down.

She accepted his money on behalf of the ranch, but looked glum all the same. “With Midnight gone, staying afloat until we get some foals will be difficult. I don’t have to tell you we paid too much for him, and counted on recouping enough from his foals to pay his loan and then some.”

“We’ll find Midnight, Aunt Sarah. A horse isn’t hockable like saddles or small ranch implements.”

“You’re right. It’s...just that you’re all such good kids, you deserve pieces of this ranch one day. I can’t believe John wasn’t a better steward,” she said, bringing up her husband, who everyone in the valley had thought was an astute rancher, but who’d turned out not to be.

“Please don’t worry,” Duke said. “Well, I’d better go see about the black horse Rob Parker saw at the Barrington ranch.”

“If it is Midnight, he broke out and somehow got into Angie’s field, Duke, so give her a chance to explain.”

“I will.” He hugged her briefly, whistled for Zorro, who’d found a spot to lie in the shade, loaded him and left. Duke hadn’t the faintest idea how to broach the subject of the horse theft with Angie. He had never been at ease around women he admired. Angie Barrington was no exception.

Scant minutes later, he stared into a fiery sun sinking between mountains to the west as he drove down Angie’s lane. He kept an eye out for a black horse, but didn’t see any animals until he neared her modest ranch house, where chickens scattered at the sound of his truck. Like many older ranch homes, Angie’s lane ended at her back door. As a rule visitors went first into the kitchen, the gathering place for rural folks.

Crawling out of his cab, Duke made his way to the house. The door was propped open. He could see Angie working in her kitchen through the screen. He patted Zorro’s head, took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the house siding.

* * *

ANGIE MADE AND SOLD horse treats for extra cash. She had a batch ready to come out of the oven and another prepared to go in when she heard a knock. Assuming it was someone dropping off a stray animal, she called, “The screen isn’t locked, come on in.” The hinges squeaked, and Angie glanced up from scooping hot cookies off a large cookie sheet. For a second she was dumbstruck at seeing Dylan Adams poke his ruggedly handsome face into her house. The angle of his cowboy hat hid his eyes, but Angie knew they were a velvety-brown.

“Ma’am,” he mumbled, causing all manner of irrational thoughts to run through Angie’s addled brain as he swept off his black cowboy hat and gave directions to a big dog to stay outside. Then the man himself stepped inside, seeming to shrink her already small kitchen with his broad shoulders and six-foot height.

She had observed him often at church with his aunt, Miss Sarah Hart. And she sometimes spotted him at the feed store or heading in or out of Austin Wright’s Western Wear and Tack Shop where she sold some of her horse cookies. She thought Dylan Adams was a hunk. And just now he caused waves of heat to sizzle up from her toes.

Mercy, what was he doing here, filling up her kitchen? Grandpa Barrington, from whom she’d inherited her ranch, spoke often of the Hart dynasty. Ace Hart was Angie’s vet, and Miss Sarah volunteered to feed and groom her small animals. Colt and his sister, Dinah Hart, and even the cousins, Dylan and Beau Adams, traveled in different circles from Angie. All were hotshot rodeo jocks, and Angie had long since seen through that veneer.

However, of all the clan, Dylan, whom Ace and Austin called Duke, intrigued her. He seemed nice. At church he came across as a gentleman. Truthfully, he was one of the few men near her age in the area that Angie gave a second look. And here she was, up to her elbows in oats and apples, hot, sticky, her hair in a braid—not the impression she’d prefer projecting to a man known to give her heart a hitch and a half.

Recovering enough to close her mouth, Angie quickly slid the remaining cookies off the sheet, shucked her oven mitts and set them aside. “I...ah...assume you’ve brought me some kind of a stray,” she said, fussing with her braid. “If you’ll give me a minute to bag the cool cookies so they don’t get too hard, and deal with a tray due out of the oven in two minutes, I’ll join you outside and see what you’ve got.”

To keep from thinking about how he might judge her messy kitchen and her, Angie set to work bagging and sealing the treats. It crossed her mind that Dylan acted a tad flustered, which surprised her, because he always appeared quiet and collected.

* * *

DUKE FELT AWKWARD INVADING this feminine space. Not that he didn’t cook, he did. And he’d helped out in his aunt’s kitchen, and Dinah’s, too. But this was Angie Barrington’s kitchen. She had frilly curtains at her windows. And her head didn’t reach his shoulder. In a lot of ways she reminded him of Kelly Ripa on TV, except Angie’s hair usually hung below her waist. Today, without makeup and with her hair braided down her back, she looked about half his age when he knew darned well she was twenty-nine. His friend Austin Wright had shared that information. Duke often saw her entering Austin’s shop, so he’d asked if they were dating. His friend denied it so fast, Duke believed him. Austin said their dealings were all business.

“I’m not in any rush, so take your time.” Tired as he was, Duke stretched the truth. Still feeling uncomfortable on the unfamiliar turf, he rolled his hat in his hand and moved closer to her kitchen counter, watching as she placed a gold-and-black logo seal on packages filled with six treats. “Our horses out at Thunder Ranch love these things. I buy them by the case at Austin Wright’s shop. I’ve seen them sell like hotcakes at the feed store, too.”

“That’s good news. It’s a recipe I found in my grandmother’s recipe box after I moved here. The side business helps defray rescue expenses. Cookie sales are picking up. I’m considering expanding and hopefully hiring help, so I’m glad your horses love them.” She flashed him a smile.

“I didn’t bring you an animal,” Duke blurted; his knees melted under her smile, but he owed her an explanation for barging into her home. “There’s been another ranch break-in at Thunder Ranch. It’s their second.”

“Oh, I noticed you were wearing your badge. So, you’re out informing neighbors? It’s lucky I guess that everyone knows I don’t have anything worth taking.”

Duke didn’t know how to tell her that one of her neighbors said she might possess a stolen horse. “Ma’am,” he began, pausing as he fiddled with his hat. “At this ranch invasion thieves made off with an expensive horse.”

Angie glanced up, plainly startled. Just as she was about to speak, the screen door banged open and in ran an out-of-breath, sandy-haired, freckle-faced, gap-toothed boy. Excited, the kid stabbed a finger toward the door. “Wh-whose p-pickup and n-neat dog?” he stuttered. “Is it my dad?”

“Lucas, what on earth...!” Angie flushed.

The boy’s query had Duke stepping more fully into view. He had moved aside to avoid getting plowed into. The kid’s question gave him pause, since all of the gossip Duke had heard indicated the boy’s father wasn’t now or ever had been in the picture.

“Luke, the pickup and dog belong to Deputy Adams, and he’s here on business.”

The boy spun and squinted up at Duke. “Mom, he’s who brought f-fly-yers to my Sunday-school class.” The boy’s excited words exploded in a rush. “You know...’viting kids to be in the wild p-pony race. Did you s-s-sign me up, Mom?”

Pursing her lips, Angie turned at the sound of the oven timer and bent to retrieve two more sheets of cookies. “That’s not why Deputy Adams is here. I haven’t committed to letting you be in that race, Lucas. Besides, it takes three to make up a team.”

“You should sign him up,” Duke said, smiling at the boy he felt sympathy for. Duke knew what stuttering was like. He’d been plagued by the problem himself as a youngster, and it still hurt to think about the humiliation of it.

“The Wild Pony Race is good, all-around fun,” he said, addressing Angie. “For the past three years the sheriff’s office has sponsored the race, which is why I distributed entry packets to various kid groups.”

Angie eyed her son with a heavy heart. He had started stuttering last year in first grade. The truth was he got teased a lot, and he hadn’t made friends as she had hoped. “We don’t have close neighbors,” she said for Duke’s benefit. “During the school year I clerk in the elementary-school office. Between that, the escalating horse-cookie business and my rescues, I don’t have a lot of time for Luke to make playdates. You may recall that my grandfather was ill for some time. His care, the shelter and raising Lucas added up to more than a full-time job.” She fussed at the counter full of cookies. Moving the bowl of those still unmade, she said a bit stiffly to her visitor, “Thank you for the community update.” Her gaze cut again to her son.

Duke could see she didn’t want to worry the boy by mentioning the break-ins. “Uh, I never got around to telling you exactly why I’m here,” he said after clearing his throat. “Today a neighbor reported seeing a black horse in one of your fields. If you don’t mind, I’ll take a look around, since the horse fits the description of the stallion missing from Thunder Ranch.”