his forehead, hard brackets around his mouth and his tight grip on a coffee mug outlined the man’s stress level. He was on high alert and, from the looks of him, had been since news broke of Maverick Mike’s murder.
“Wish we were meeting under better circumstances, Sheriff Sawmill,” Madelyn conceded, taking the hand being offered in a vigorous shake.
“I’d like to hear what happened,” he said with a polite nod. The sheriff was considerably shorter than the cowboy, who had to be at least six foot three, and he wasn’t nearly as in shape. Sawmill squared his shoulders. His forehead creased with concern as Madelyn recalled the events, horrified at the thought Owen could be behind the attack. She wouldn’t deny the possibility. And she tried not to notice how intent the cowboy seemed at picking up every last detail of her statement. One look at him said he had to have been on the job. And it might not be her business but she wanted to know more about the quiet cowboy.
Sawmill listened. “Did the driver fire at you?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“We’ve had a few similar incidents on the highway lately. Cases of road rage have doubled with the August sun and the town is still in a frenzy over the death of one of our residents.” Sawmill’s shoulders seemed in a permanent slump and his posture gave away his weariness. No doubt this was the first time he’d dealt with a high-profile murder on what he’d see as “his watch.” The intensity of his expression said he cared about doing a good job.
Road rage? She prayed it was that simple because the other was unthinkable.
“Is there a number where I can reach you if I have more questions?” Sawmill asked.
Madelyn relayed her cell number. “I’m staying at the Red Rope Inn for a couple of days if you need to find me.”
The sheriff nodded. “I’ll make a note on your file.”
“Thank you for your time,” Madelyn said as she followed him out the door. She scanned the horizon as a cold prickly feeling came over her, like eyes watching her. But there was no one around.
Before the sheriff disappeared she’d handed her empty mug to the cowboy. “Thanks for your help. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been there.”
He tipped his hat but didn’t respond as he followed her onto the lawn. “Keep watch in case he returns.”
“You think he’ll come back?” Her heart drummed her rib cage.
“Probably not. He’ll have to fix his tire and regroup,” he said. “Doesn’t hurt to be extra careful.”
Madelyn thanked the cowboy again before sliding into the driver’s seat. Her palms were sweaty and her heart still galloped but she’d been threatened in her job before. It would take more than a stressful brush with road rage—if the sheriff had accurately assessed the situation—to detour her from finding out what Maverick Mike wanted with her.
Now that she’d almost made it to the ranch, her curiosity was at an all-time high. And she couldn’t think of one reason the man would summon her.
* * *
THERE HAD TO be two dozen news trucks lining the street in front of the Hereford Ranch due to Maverick Mike’s murder. Again, Madelyn questioned what she was doing here. If there was a story, wouldn’t one of these reporters have already sniffed it out?
A beefy security guy stood at the gate attached to a white log fence. He was wearing navy shorts and a matching button-down short-sleeved shirt, and had a gun strapped to his hip.
She rolled her window down and gave her name along with the name of the paper where she worked.
Beefy’s dark brow arched.
“I’m expected,” she added to clarify.
“Name again, please,” he said, checking his tablet.
“Madelyn Kensington.” She couldn’t get a good look at his eyes through his mirrored sunglasses. The guy obviously worked out but he had nothing on the cowboy from earlier.
Beefy tilted his head to the side. “Main building is straight ahead. Go on through.”
“Thank you,” she said, pulling away and kicking up a lot of dirt as she navigated into a parking spot near the main building’s entrance. She grabbed her purse and stepped out of her car, dusting off her jeans, thinking how much she loved living in the city. The ranch was beautiful, don’t get her wrong, but checking her boots for scorpions before she put them on wasn’t exactly her idea of fun.
The main building looked like an oversize log cabin. It had more of a Western high-end resort feel with rustic accents. She slipped her purse strap over her shoulder and walked toward the door. Before she could reach for the knob, the door swung open. She had to put a hand up to stop it from smacking her in the face.
“My apologies,” the man wearing a taupe business suit with cowboy boots topped off by a cream-colored Stetson said with a smile of appreciation. “We spoke on the phone earlier. I’m Ed.”
Madelyn introduced herself as she took his outstretched hand. His shake was firm and quick, his expression concerned.
“Sorry I’m late. I had a difficult time getting here today,” she confided.
“Do you mind filling me in on that?” he asked with a raised brow.
“I’ve already given my report to the sheriff.” And then it dawned on her why he’d ask. Ella Butler had just survived an attempted murder. Madelyn shook her head. “No, it’s nothing. Sheriff thinks it’s a case of road rage.” She didn’t want to get into the fact that it could’ve been Owen with a stranger.
“I see. You’re no doubt aware of the situation the Butler family is dealing with,” he said with a sympathetic look, and she couldn’t help but notice that he was scanning her face. But for what? He seemed to be intensely staring at the bridge of her nose and it was making her a little self-conscious. Her nose had always had a slight bump and she’d sworn that she would get a nose job someday as a teenager.
Ed nodded and his lip curled into a faint grin. He was looking at her like she was some piece of artwork to be examined, like he was searching for something.
“Yes. I’m sorry for the loss of their father and for the criminal activity surrounding it,” she said honestly. She didn’t know the family, but a quick Google search last night had revealed a snapshot of what they’d been going through. No one deserved this kind of attention. She was getting irritated at the way he was staring at her. “Forgive my confusion, but what is so urgent that you needed to see me right away?”
He seemed to catch on when she used her you’re-being-rude tone.
“I apologize for my behavior.” He shook his head and made a production of walking in the opposite direction toward an office with glass-and-wooden French doors. “I’d prefer to have this conversation in private.”
Madelyn glanced around, didn’t see another soul. The place was beautiful, though. So far she’d endured a crazy driver, a cowboy who rattled her with his calm demeanor, and now she was with a lawyer who needed to get to the point. She had no idea what was going on with people today, but she’d hit her limit and was starting to get annoyed.
She stalked behind the lawyer into the office. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered the walls. She was almost distracted by the rare book collection when she decided it was more important to know the real reason she was standing in what had to be Maverick Mike Butler’s private study. If it wasn’t for the day she’d been having, she might actually enjoy all of this. Seriously, this guy was legend and how many times in her life would she actually get to stand in the study of such a notorious, successful and eccentric man?
The problem was that her nerves were still fried from the drive over and her thoughts kept wandering to the handsome cowboy who’d literally ridden up on his horse and saved her. Call it Old West nostalgia, but he did make her pulse