Boone, page 17
“Steven is a kid who’s trying to turn his life around. I won’t have anyone, including you, referring to him in that manner.”
As he drew himself up and squared his shoulders, April could tell she’d made a mistake. Despite his effort at appearing more authoritative, her riding boots gave her an inch on him in height. That and her statement served to undermine the tenuous hold he had on the respect he seemed to crave. But right now, April didn’t care about his personal agenda. She was more concerned about Steven.
Dugg had been a repeat visitor to their campground ever since the elderly Bea Turner had moved into the house at the near corner of the campground last summer. He seemed to relish the “showdown” between the two neighbors and gleefully issued repeated warnings and citations. A couple of times she and Colton had had to appear in court for disturbing the peace, all because of the dance contests she staged for the teenagers each Friday night during their busy season. The music was always silenced by eleven o’clock, but that never stopped the determined deputy from writing up yet another darned citation.
The woman had not stopped complaining since she’d moved in. There had been letters to the editor of the local newspaper, griping to other residents, and even an attempt to raise a petition against the campground’s “noisy activities.”
Fortunately, no one other than Mrs. Turner had a complaint against them. But she was still managing to make life difficult for them.
Since most of their activities took place on the weekends, they’d come to know the over enthusiastic Alexander Dugg better than they would have liked.
Colton returned from the barn and stood beside April in a show of solidarity. The twitching muscle in his jaw was his only outward sign of annoyance. His voice came out in a deep rumble. “Is there a problem, Deputy Dugg?”
April almost smiled as her partner slurred the last two words until they sounded like the name of an old-time cartoon dog. There was no mistaking he’d done it intentionally.
“It seems as though that reform school dropout of yours was loitering behind your neighbor’s shed yesterday. And now she’s missing some tools that she stored out there.” He paused, then added in a serious tone, “They belonged to her late husband.”
April’s humor disappeared at the allegation leveled against the teen Colton had taken under his wing. Initially he’d been against having a boy from the juvenile corrections facility working for them. But after he’d come to know Steven, he came to see he’d been wrong in assuming the worst about him.
“Steven works hard here,” she said. “He doesn’t have the time or the desire to get into trouble.”
The boy had been on that section of the campground property yesterday, repairing loose boards and pounding nails that had worked their way out of the salt-treated wood fence. But April had no doubt that he’d stayed on campground property. He was trying hard to prove himself to Colton. The teen wouldn’t throw it away by doing something as foolish as what the deputy was implying.
Colton straightened the tall brown hat that often served as an indicator of his moods. Today, perched menacingly low over his scowling brow, it sent a clear warning. He frowned at Dugg.
“Are you here to press charges?”
“No, no,” Dugg insisted, waving his hands. “There isn’t enough evidence. But I am here to issue a warning. Perhaps you could hint to the boy that if those tools are mysteriously returned to Mrs. Turner—undamaged—then we’ll forget about the whole incident. Provided, of course, no other items disappear from her property in the future.”
April was about to tell him what he could do with those tools, but Colton placed a firm hand on her shoulder. When she opened her mouth to speak, he quelled her protest with a slight shake of his head.
She supposed he was right. Dugg’s citation pad had stayed in his pocket on this particular visit. If she started arguing with him now, he’d surely charge them with some infraction—real or imagined—that he could think of on the spot.
Colton turned to go inside and paused at the door to the building that served as a combination camp store and recreation room.
“We’ll mention to Steven about Mrs. Turner’s missing tools, but I’m certain he doesn’t know anything about them.” Holding the door for April, he added, more for Dugg’s ears than hers, “There’s too much work to do for us to be standing around out here.”
Without so much as a word of goodbye, he ushered her inside and followed with a firm click of the door. To their surprise, the bell above the door tinkled again as it swung open and their nemesis stepped inside.
Clyde, their part-time employee, wheeled his chair out from the aisle where he’d been stocking pool toys in preparation for the summer guests. When he saw who was with them, he reversed the direction of his wheelchair.
“Is there something else?” Colton delivered the words more as a statement of dismissal than a question.
The deputy paced down the aisle where Clyde was now loading shelves with plastic snorkels and inflatable pool toys. He examined the procedure as if he were about to give the elderly gentleman a performance review.
Turning back to Colton, he asked, “Got any cold drinks?”
Colton’s hat brim nodded toward the refrigerated compartment along the back wall where large red lettering above it spelled out COLD DRINKS.
The deputy went to the cooler, retrieved an orange soda and downed half of it before he reached into his pocket to pay for it. He was headed toward the cash register when he abruptly stopped, peered through the refrigerator’s glass doors, and studied the neat rows of bottles, cans, and cartons. The pink faced man grinned as if he’d singlehandedly tracked and apprehended one of America’s most wanted criminals.
Alexander Dugg licked his lips and hitched his breeches a little higher.
“What do we have here?” Dugg asked, reaching once again into the cooler.
April’s stomach felt as though it hit the floor. It was clear Colton had also seen the can of beer in Dugg’s hand.
From Dugg’s smug smile, April supposed he was picturing the headline: Deputy Busts Campground Owners for Illegal Alcohol Sales. Perhaps he even imagined that Lisa LaQuinta, the TV news reporter, would interview him. If April knew Dugg as well as she thought, he was probably making a mental note to take his uniform to the cleaners for the occasion. And he’d ask for extra starch. She wouldn’t be surprised if he thought such publicity would give him a shot at the sheriff’s job in the next election.
The deputy sauntered to the front of the building and placed the can on the counter in front of April. “How much do you charge for this?”
“We don’t,” April said. Remembering the deputy’s eagerness to achieve his self-made quota each weekend, she forced herself to speak with as much caution as she could muster. “We don’t sell alcohol here.”
“Coulda fooled me.” Dugg turned the can over to display the price tag. “Let me see your liquor license.”
When Colton stepped forward, Dugg touched the gun at his side as if to reassure himself it was still there.
Apparently noticing the deputy’s find, Clyde rolled his chair toward them and cleared his throat to say something. The expression of guilt on his face made him look, despite his seventy-plus years, like a small boy holding a baseball bat near a broken window.
She should have known. Clyde had often remarked that he slept better at night after “downing a cold one.” But she didn’t realize he’d been keeping those beers in the camp store’s cooler.
Before he could speak, however, Colton silenced him with a slight shake of the head. “That’s mine,” he told Dugg. “It’s for personal use.”
To make sure their employee didn’t make matters worse by confessing his part in the mix-up, April distracted him by handing him the squirrel to care for. For a moment Clyde looked torn between responsibilities, but ultimately went away to look for a box and bedding for his new charge.
“Personal use, my eye,” the deputy argued. “This can has a price sticker on it.”
Colton’s hands moved to his blue-jeaned hips. With his feet slightly apart, ready for confrontation, he reminded April of a cowboy preparing to shoot it out.
“If you’ll take a look around,” he said, his voice low and steady, “you’ll see that we don’t sticker any of our drinks. The price list is posted on the cooler door.”
Her partner’s patience was being tested, perhaps more than her own. It was stupid, having to put up with this kind of harassment, but there came a point when it was senseless to fight over inanities. Maybe if they just took their lumps and made an appropriate apology, the deputy would go away satisfied that he’d won.
“Look,” said April, “we have a business to run, and I’m sure you have some other deputying to do. So why don’t you just tell us how much we owe, and we can call an end to this misunderstanding.”
She pulled her purse out from under the counter. Colton tried to stop her, but it was too late. Her wallet was already open, and she was counting out bills onto the Formica counter. A low moan escaped the back of his throat.
Dugg’s eyes widened. “Miz Hanson, you are obviously mistaken about my ethics as a law enforcer.”
A quizzical expression crossed her face. “What? I only—”
If he let her say anything else, she was only going to worsen the situation. Colton spoke up, effectively preventing her from digging the hole any deeper. “I believe my partner is trying to say that she would be willing to pay whatever fine is involved.”
But Dugg wouldn’t accept his explanation. “I’m going to have to charge you both with selling beer without a license.” He glanced at April. “And attempting to bribe an officer of the law.”
She tried to protest but was drowned out as Dugg launched into the Miranda speech. “You have the right to remain silent….” When he finished reading them their rights, he fished a pair of handcuffs out of his back pocket.
Clyde rolled his chair toward them, the squirrel in a cardboard box on his lap, and rubbed the sprinkling of gray whisker stubs on his chin. “Colton, I gotta tell you—”
Colton cut him off. “We need you to stay here and take care of things until we get back. And keep an eye out for Steven. He should be arriving soon.”
His message was clear. Don’t say anything else, or there will be three of us going to the sheriff’s office.
“Hold out your wrists,” Dugg said to April.
She stared helplessly at the cuffs the little man held out toward her. With a quick, pleading glance at Colton, she slowly lifted her arms.
A knot formed in Colton’s gut. There was no way he was going to stand by and let that little twerp handcuff April. His big hand shot out and, without thinking about the consequences, he snatched the metal hardware from the deputy. “Hey!” Dugg yelped. “Give those back.”
“You are not going to put these things on her.”
“Okay, you’ve done it now.” Dugg hitched his pants up and touched the gun at his side. “I’m going to have to charge you with interfering with an officer of the law in the performance of his duties.”
This wasn’t Mayberry, and Colton doubted the deputy was required to carry his bullets in his shirt pocket. Since Dugg was already agitated and obviously out of control of the situation, Colton knew it would be foolhardy to back him into a corner.
“Charge me as you see fit,” he said, dangling the stainless steel cuffs from one finger, “but the lady doesn’t wear this style of bracelet.”
Dugg grabbed the cuffs from Colton and stepped back a pace as though he might get bitten if he ventured too close. “I’m gonna have to ask you to hold out your arms.”
April moved beside him, and Colton felt her arm slip around his waist. “You don’t need to use those on him,” she said. “He’s never hurt anyone in his life.”
If the deputy hadn’t been clamping steel around his right arm, Colton would have smiled at her words. She’d conveniently forgotten about the times he’d defended her from schoolyard bullies and left them with bruises or bloodied noses.
He waited patiently for the circle to close around his left arm, but Dugg said, “Behind your back.”
“Oh, for crying out loud!” April stepped away as Colton turned to accommodate the deputy.
Their eyes met, and Colton wished he could protect her as easily now as when they were kids.
About the Authors
Carolyn Greene
On Carolyn Greene’s second-grade report card, her teacher commented, “Carolyn writes nice stories.” Shortly after that, Carolyn got hit in the head with a kickball which she credits for her ability to take her romance novels and cozy mysteries in unexpected directions. Over the years, she has been nominated for, or won, numerous writing awards.
Carolyn met Lori Wilde through an online writing forum more than twenty years ago, and they immediately bonded over their mutual love of romantic comedy. Since then, they’ve brainstormed dozens of novels together and shared a close friendship.
Carolyn lives in Virginia with her hot firefighter husband and two amusing miniature pinschers. They have two grown children and two grandchildren who give her plenty to write about.
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Lori Wilde
Lori Wilde is the New York Times, USA Today and Publishers’ Weekly bestselling author of 87 works of romantic fiction. She’s a three time Romance Writers’ of America RITA finalist and has four times been nominated for Romantic Times Readers’ Choice Award. She has won numerous other awards as well.
Her books have been translated into 26 languages, with more than four million copies of her books sold worldwide.
Her breakout novel, The First Love Cookie Club, has been optioned for a TV movie.
Lori is a registered nurse with a BSN from Texas Christian University. She holds a certificate in forensics, and is also a certified yoga instructor.
A fifth generation Texan, Lori lives with her husband, Bill, in the Cutting Horse Capital of the World; where they run Epiphany Orchards, a writing/creativity retreat for the care and enrichment of the artistic soul.
Also by Lori Wilde & Carolyn Greene
Southern Charmers
Reece
Blake
Boone
Colton
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By Lori Wilde
Texas Rascals Series
Keegan
Matt
Nick
Kurt
Tucker
Kael
Truman
Dan
Rex
Clay
Jonah
Lori Wilde, Boone
