The Cowboy's Make Believe Bride (Wyoming Matchmaker Book 2) Read online

  “This is a bad idea,” he said, then looked at her. “I could make it worth your while if we stayed home.”

  Cricket gave a discrete cough. “That's a good offer,” she mumbled to Cori.

  Cori sighed. “So, to be clear. You don't want to be sheriff?” She gave him a pointed look, one telling him to prioritize.

  “Fine,” he said. He fit her with the wire, brushing his knuckles over her sensitive parts, probably on purpose to distract her. “You sure you don't wanna come up with another plan?”

  She shook her head, focusing on steadying her breathing.

  “Okay, then, let's go.” He gestured to the door.

  “Shotgun,” Cricket said, laughing as she pushed past them both.

  Cori teetered out, the heels causing her hips to sway.

  “Jesus,” Fort mumbled. He held the door open for the women. He'd brought the ranch truck to give them more room.

  They rode to Bruno's in silence, Cori quietly going over the plan in her head. When they pulled into the gravel parking lot, she got nervous, sitting forward with her arms around her belly.

  Bruno's was a honky-tonk in the truest sense. Motorcycles lined the front, pickups as well, many with horse or cattle trailers. Music was bleeding through the tin rafters and shook the neon sign that touted the bar's name.

  “You're just trying to eavesdrop. If you get drawn into a conversation, try to find out the connection with that guy and Witty.”

  “And my father.” She desperately needed to know if he was behind all this.

  “Don't focus on that. Your dad can't be wielding too much power from—” His eyes cut to Cricket.

  “You don't know that.”

  “Cori, stay on point,” Fort warned.

  “Sure, sure.” She nodded. If her father was involved, she would kill him. With her bare hands.

  Fort helped her out of the truck from his side. He reached for her, a tiny microphone in his hand, but she stepped away. If while touching her he asked her to cancel the plan, she wouldn't be able to say no.

  “I'll do it,” she said and tucked the small recorder and cord between the valley of her breast, and then hid everything in the padding of her bra at the bottom of the cups. “Can you see it?” she asked and moved her head away so he could look down her shirt.

  He barely glanced at her chest. “Cori—”

  She didn't wait for more but walked off toward the bar.

  Inside Bruno's was loud, smelly like body odor and cows, and packed, clearly exceeding fire marshal limits. There was no way Fort was going to hear a single thing from the wire unless she pulled it out and screamed into the microphone. She was flying solo.

  A large stage broke the room into two halves. On the stage, women in various states of dress danced.

  She had a hard time finding her target, believing for a moment she and Fort had picked the wrong day and they would have to do this again. And she really didn't want to.

  That's when she spotted Witty by the bar on the far side of the stage. He looked to be with three others and already heavy into his drink, but not one of the guys with him was the stranger Cori was hoping to chat up.

  Disappointed, Cori decided to get close anyway. Maybe they'd say something, anything, to help Fort.

  As she wove through the crowd, she had to slap away two wandering hands and push a drunk in the chest with a threat to stab her stiletto in his eye if he didn't back away. When she finally reached the side of the bar where Witty was, the stranger was there, too. She caught his eye and smiled.

  At the bar, she asked for a beer, and before the bartender could produce it, stranger-guy was next to her.

  “Hello, beautiful,” he said in a wave of foul breath. If he was staying at her cabin, he should at least make use of the bathroom shower and sink. She turned her curled lip into a smile.

  Her cabin. As if. But she couldn't help that she felt that way. She just did. Even if it wasn't true.

  “Hello, cowboy,” she said and turned to face him, putting her hand with the bottle in front of her like a glass wall.

  “What brings a pretty girl like you here?” When he swayed forward, she leaned away.

  “I was meeting someone, but it looks like he stood me up.” She stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout.

  “You from around here? Cuz I ain't seen you in here before.” He balanced himself by leaning against the bar, shoving a person out of the way.

  Cori's gut told her to go with no. She knew he wasn't a local either, and that might appeal to him. Plus, if he were cattle rustling, he wouldn't take them to a livestock auction nearby; he'd go miles away. Like her dad had done. Her father had actually established a second residence in Oklahoma for trafficking cattle.

  Cori smiled coyly. “I'm from Montana. Billings. Came to see a friend and meet a guy who I was chatting with online. Looks like I'm meeting you instead. I'm Co—Coral.” Fudge-cicles. She'd forgotten to come up with an alias.

  “Coral, pretty. I'm Brody Fant, and you smell like the beach.” When he whiffed her neck, nausea nearly knocked her aside. At his smell, it all came back to her. Brody was his real name. That she was sure. But the last name was new. She remembered her mom pleading with her dad to turn in a Brody to reduce his sentence, but her father refused, saying he, Brody, was his right hand, and there were things Brody would need to take care of while he was in prison.

  Brody was mid-thirties and had probably been handsome once upon a time when his sandy blond hair and dimples were fresh. But now, he looked weary. Road hard and put up wet, as they said. The lifestyle he led was coming through his weathered skin, his yellow teeth, and when the odor of booze leaked from one’s pores, it wasn’t from the drinks he was currently imbibing. No, it was from a lifetime of them.

  No doubt, her father was involved. There was no such thing as a coincidence.

  “What do you say we leave and have some quiet time?” Brody suggested.

  Cori cocked her head to one side and bit her lip, as if she was sorely tempted. “I wish. I see my friend waving to me over there by the door. I can't go anywhere without her following.” Brody teetered to a twist, looking over his shoulder. Cori waved to some random lady by the door that happened to be looking their way. The woman waved back, a puzzled look on her face.

  “I could entertain the both of you,” he said, facing her again while hitching up his britches.

  Cori seriously doubted he could entertain himself with the state he was in.

  “Maybe, if you're ever in Billings,” Cori said and set her beer on the bar top.

  “I'll be in Billings Thursday,” he said with a cocky smile. “Got me some business up there.”

  “At the livestock auction?” It was a stab in the dark, but she wasn't raised by a rustler to not know something.

  Brody didn't answer, but stared at her slack-jawed.

  Cori ran her index finger down his plaid western shirt. “Are you a cattleman? I have a thing for cattlemen.” She swirled her finger near his belly button.

  Brody's slack mouth went into a wide smile. “As a matter of fact, I am. I'm in the cattle broker business.”

  I bet you are, she thought.

  “I can meet you at the auction. Maybe a little afternoon delight?” She suppressed a gag at what she was suggesting, swallowing it instead.

  “Yeah, sure.” Brody came in for a kiss, but she quickly turned her head and he caught her at the neck.

  “We'll save all that for Thursday. Okay dokey?” She patted his chest and tweaked his nose. “See you then, sexy.” Not waiting for a response, she pushed through the crowd like a mad woman with fire at her backside. Once out the door, she rushed to Fort's truck. He was standing outside the driver's door with his hands on his hips, a serious frown and mean ass glare on his face.

  “Two more minutes, and I was coming in,” he said when he saw her.

  “Worried, were you? Too loud to hear anything I bet?” She scooted around him and then climb in the truck through the driver's side. �
�Let's get outta here. Where's Cricket?” The other side of the cab was empty.

  Fort pointed over his shoulder. “Talking with Deke.”

  “Deke's here?” Cori looked in the direction he was pointing and saw Cricket with arms waving madly in the air. “I think she's yelling at him. Those two are weird. I thought she didn't talk to him.”

  “It drives me insane the way she defends him. I know he was married to her sister, but still.”

  Cori gasped as realization dawned. “Oh, no.”

  “What?” Fort spun around to look at Deke and Cricket.

  “Something is going on between them.” Cori moved to the back seat and ripped off the heels. “Something like what we did in the cabin.”

  “What? No way.” Fort harrumphed “I don't believe that. Cricket is smarter than that.”

  Cori rolled her eyes. “The heart wants what it wants Fort Be-so-lame.” Man, hers really wanted him.

  When Cricket turned around and pointed in their direction, Cori waved at her to hurry it along. She was anxious to get the hell outta dodge.

  Cricket had grabbed Deke by the arm and was dragging him from the truck and toward them.

  “Incoming,” Cori said as Fort let go of an expletive.

  “Deke here has something to say.” Cricket let go of his arm, then shoved him in the shoulder.

  “Can it wait? I really want to get outta here. The guys are already drunk, and I may have promised one an afternoon of pleasure on Thursday. I'm nervous he might come looking for me now, ready to collect.”

  “You did what?” Fort bellowed.

  Cricket twisted Deke's arm. Deke said in a rush of words, “Witty isn't my campaign manager.”

  “A-ha, I knew it,” Fort said and pointed a finger at Deke. “What scam are you running?”

  With her free hand, Cricket punch Fort. “Tell him, Deke.”

  “I hired him under the pretense of being my manager. What I was really doing was trying to get to the bottom of a cattle rustling ring in the area.”

  Fort snorted his disbelief.

  “It's true,” Deke said.

  “And I should believe you, why? Maybe you know you're caught so you're trying to save your own neck.”

  “I'm not a dirt bag,” Deke said and took a step toward Fort, hands balled into fist.

  “You broke my arm with a bat because I gave Laura a ride home.” Fort met the challenge and moved closer to Deke.

  “I was swinging it to try and scare you. You weren't supposed to bum rush me. Fool.”

  “You're the fool,” Fort growled.

  Cricket stepped between them. “You're both idiots. Can we please focus on now and not the past?”

  Fort stepped back and spread his hands wide. “Okay, if this is true. You think you might have told us at the office?”

  “Oh, no,” Cricket said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “And give up his dream of being Insurance Commissioner for the state? Not a chance. Dick Tracy here thought he could single-handedly solve this crime, and he would be escalated to the top of Wyoming Government.”

  “Do you even want to be sheriff?” Fort asked.

  Deke gave a slight sigh of defeat. “Only because it'll help me become commissioner. Plus, I needed you to run. If I do become Insurance Commissioner, I didn't want my rise to the top to be easy. No one respects someone when the job is handed to them.”

  Cricket and Cori shared a look of disgust. The things men would do to get their way.

  “Can we take this discussion elsewhere?” Cori asked. She was itching to take the wig off.

  “Yes,” Cricket said. “My house. I'll make sure Deke gets there.” She steered him back to his truck.

  Cori climbed over the console and into the passenger seat. “If you could step on it, that would be awesome,” she told Fort when he turned over the engine.

  “You think we could squeeze in a little late-night delight?” he asked, then leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of her breast.

  “Aren't you thinking about what Deke just said?”

  “Sure, but I'm thinking more about what's right in front of me. There's time for Deke later.”

  Cori smiled and tossed a curl over her shoulder. “So long as you can make it fast. I've never had a quickie, and I'm interested in seeing what all the talk is about.” She needed to get what she could before she no longer had it.

  Fort gunned the truck and peeled out of the parking lot. “I know of a little secluded area just down the road from here. Used to go fishing there.”

  23

  The fishing spot Fort was talking about had two paths. They took the one to the left, and Cori discovered just how much fun, and how awkward, having sex in a truck could be.

  When they were leaving, they almost collided with another truck that was exiting the path from the right.

  It was Deke and Cricket.

  “Still think I'm crazy?” Cori asked as she brushed out her own hair, happy to lose the wig.

  Fort blocked their exit and jumped out, leaving his door open.

  “What in the hell is going on here?” Fort stood before Deke's front lights.

  Deke turned off the truck and climbed out. Cricket did as well.

  Deke said, “It started after the holidays. Tinsdale was out of town, and some of the guys were coming in, asking about their policies, talking about making claims for a few head of cattle. Most weren't looking for immediate payout, but if their heads kept going missing, then could they make a claim? I told them not without a police report and paper trail, but none were filing claims. I finally asked Mrs. Williams, and she said her husband hadn't because none of the cows were tagged or branded, and there were no signs of them being taken. They were all wondering if they'd miscalculated or the error was on them.”

  Cori was sitting in the driver’s seat, listening, and perked up. “That's what we're seeing, too. It’s still happening.”

  Deke leaned against the truck hood. “I'm not surprised. It’s happened in Bison's Prairie and as far up as Bozeman.”

  “I'm seeing signs of it throughout Wyoming and Montana. Even a few reports in Idaho,” Fort said.

  “It's like they take just enough to make people wonder, but not enough to make them outraged and do anything.”

  “Plus, the cows aren't marked, so it’s an uphill battle for the rancher,” Cricket chimed in.

  “That's not all. Couple of the guys over in Elk's Pass came in, wanting to file claims and were pissed when I couldn't do anything without a police report. They mentioned having a secondary insurance they got off some salesmen they met at a few auctions.”

  “Let me guess,” Cori said, “the insurance is bogus.”

  “Yeah, how'd you know?” Deke asked.

  “What tipped you off?” Fort asked Deke, changing the subject. Protecting Cori was more important than getting all the clues. He had enough to piece the puzzle together.

  “I was at the insurance convention I mentioned earlier. Lots of brokers were talking about it. It's not the first time something like this has happened. There was this guy in Texas—”

  “Charlie Walters. That's my dad,” Cori said and looked at Fort. “He's the guy in Texas.”

  Fort didn't have to shine a light on her to see her panicked expression. “Cori,” Fort said. “Your dad's in prison. He's not doing this.”

  “Except that it's starting to look more like he is.”

  Deke looked between them. “I don't know about your dad, but what I do know is that Conway isn't the brains. There's a guy I'm thinking is in charge. He's been in town a few times. That's who I'm trying to get to. By hiring Conway, I thought I might, but Conway protects the hell out of him.”

  Cori reached under the passenger seat and withdrew her camera. “Is it this guy?” She found Brody's image and passed the camera to Fort who showed it to Deke.

  “Yeah, that's him.”

  Cori covered her face. “His name is Brody Fant. Fant isn't his last name. That I'm sure of. But Brody is his real na
me,” she said between her fingers. A memory tickled at her brain, and she closed her eyes, trying to picture it. It was her mother telling someone her father wasn't home. After she'd closed the door, she'd shuddered and said, “That Mr. Brody makes me nervous.”

  “In fact, I almost think Brody is his last name.” She opened her eyes and looked at Fort. “I know this because he worked with my dad or for my dad or whatever. The Feds were going to reduce my dad's sentence if he gave up Brody. I remember my mom begging him to do it, but my dad refusing, telling her that Brody needed to stay out of jail if she expected to keep up her spandex and highlights habit. Tell me again why you think my dad isn't involved?” She brushed tears from her cheeks.

  “Babe.” Fort went to her, stood next to the seat, and then pulled her into his arms. “Even if he is, we'll get to the bottom of this. We'll stop it.”

  “Can he ever be stopped?” She rested her forehead on his shoulder. Her weary sigh could have broken his heart. “I made plans to meet Brody at the Billings Auction on Thursday. He was planning on going up there. That's how they do it. Probably have local tags on their car, say their working for a ranch, and bring in the stock to sell.”

  Fort kissed the top of her head. “That's in three days.”

  “That means they'll be doing a roundup of the last few over the next few days,” Cricket said.

  “I wish we knew where they were hiding out,” Deke said while rubbing the back of his head in thought.

  Cori lifted her head and looked at Fort.

  “We know where they're staying,” he said, staring back at her, reading her mind. He then shifted so he was facing the others, his arm around her shoulder, and explained about the cabin.

  “I know the place,” Deke said, chin in hand, lost in thought.

  “We need a plan,” Cori said.

  Fort nodded. “Hannah Jacobson has been running stats for me, and one thing keeps popping up. Heads go missing quickly after they're brought to the ranch, before they're tagged or registered. When I added the number missing to what is sold at auctions days later, its relatively close.”

  “No identifiable marks makes tracing nearly impossible,” Cori said.