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

  Tinsdale ran his fingers through his short gray hair. “It's more than that. It's because you weren't raised here. Born here. How can they believe you won't hightail it outta here if you get bored or a better offer? Folks like you Fort. They doubt your commitment to this community is all.”

  Fort snorted. His ancestors had homesteaded here, and yet, because his mother had married a Texan and then divorced him, leaving her nine-year-old behind, he was the outsider. Story of his life, never fitting in anywhere.

  “And Deke looks like a perfect candidate,” Fort said while pushing away his plate.

  “Yup.” Tinsdale nodded. “He still goes to the cemetery and puts flowers on Laura's grave every week. No one thinks he'll leave.”

  “Who knew that deciding a boy should be raised by his father would work against him as an adult?” Ma put a hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Fort. I feel like some of this is my blame.”

  Fort squeezed her arm. “How could you know the future, Ma?”

  “How serious is it with this girl?” Tinsdale asked.

  Fort almost said, “What girl?” but caught himself in time. “Why?”

  Tinsdale raised a brow, as if puzzled Fort couldn't put the pieces together. “Getting married right about now wouldn't be a bad idea if you were wanting to throw in your hat for the sheriff’s job.”

  Fort sat back in his chair and placed his thumb over the twitching part of his upper eye. “Ah, well, I guess we're both so busy we haven't really given it much thought.” He hated lying. Hated the acrid taste that remained in his mouth for days after each lie. Hated that Deke might be the next sheriff and he, Fort Besingame, would be working for him. Hell no, he'd quit. Maybe then he'd get more than six hours of sleep at a time.

  “Maybe you should,” Tinsdale said. “You've been dating her a long time and haven't come across anyone else you want to date. That's something.”

  Fort pushed from the table and nodded. “I'll think about it right after I catch some shuteye. I've got to be at work in a few hours.” He stood. “Though, I reckon asking a girl to get hitched so I can try for a job isn't all that romantic.”

  Ma squeezed his hand. “Sometimes, hon, a reason like that is a far better one than love at first sight. Not that I would change that, because I got you out of the deal.”

  Tinsdale stood. “I'd endorse you, Fort. You know I have full faith in you.”

  “Thank you, sir, I appreciate that.” Jeez, the look of hope in Tinsdale's eyes caused Fort to cringe inwardly. He was half tempted to conjure up a bride right on the spot. As if such things could happen.

  2

  Fort searched the local database for two reasons: to stay current with the surrounding counties and to see if anything strange might pop up, something to explain the missing cow. Coming up empty, he checked the high priority emails from the state, looked to see if any warrants needed to be served, and then went through the call list, looking for something, anything, that might hint at his missing cow. Not that he or his stepfather had found the carcass of the animal, but he assumed it was out there somewhere. What would explain this nicely would be additional reports of mountain lion attacks.

  The only call logged on the books was a complaint from Mrs. Zykowski about something weird going on around the train tracks late at night that was keeping her up.

  From his periphery, Fort was aware that Deke Sutton was watching him. Fort pretended not to notice. Deke was the sort of man who didn't like to be ignored, and Fort was the type that enjoyed pushing his buttons. He didn't often have the chance since their shift never overlapped. Tonight though, Deke was pulling a second shift. For what reason, who knew? It wasn’t like things were hopping around town. For Fort, business was quiet, too quiet. His trusty gut indicated something was on the horizon, and the quiet wasn't going to stay that way for long.

  “You know why I'm staring at you?” Deke asked.

  Fort logged off his computer and locked the screen; he didn't trust Deke to mind his own business. “I didn't even know you were here, much less staring at me. Is it because you wish you were as devilishly handsome as me?” Fort stood and considered if his perfectly tucked and ironed uniform shirt needed an adjustment. Nope, the Navy had taught him well. He was still looking shipshape.

  Deke snorted. “Why would this town's golden boy wanna look like you, a dirty trail hand?” Deke raised his upper lip. “But if telling yourself those lies gives you comfort, who am I to say anything about that?” The chair let out a loud creak when Deke sat back, resting his arms behind his head. “I was staring at you and wondering if you'll quit the day I get elected sheriff or give your two weeks’ notice. I'm trying to decide which I'd prefer.”

  Fort checked his sidearm, then picked up the manila file on the desk with Mrs. Zykowski's complaint. He glanced at the large analog clock over the front door and decided dinner was in order. It was Wednesday, and Mrs. Zykowski liked to go to the diner for the mini meatloaf and potato special. He could eat and have a quick chat with her. Not much he could do about kids out at night, but he could make Mrs. Zykowski feel that, at the very least, her frustrations were heard. Then he'd drive along the tracks.

  But first he'd deal with Deke. He faced him. “So, you plan on running? Congrats.” He knew Deke was not expecting Fort to be civil. “What makes you think you'll win?”

  Deke shrugged. “Who's gonna run against me? You? You don't have a chance in Hades of winning.”

  “You seem so sure. Bribing voters already? Got some dangling chads all lined up?” Fort looped his thumb in his utility belt.

  “I'm a shoo-in. I was born and raised here. I've never left. Married at the church right across from the square. Wolf Creek is in my blood. These people know it, they know me, and they'll vote for me.”

  “You have zero experience. You only joined the force when I did because I did. But I've got twelve years under my belt.” In a logical world, Fort’s argument made sense. Wolf Creek might not be so logical.

  Deke rubbed his chin. “Yeah, sure. Because that counts. None of that matters because I've got roots and you've got.... What is it you've got? No one here knows. Are you attached to Wolf Creek, or do you have an attachment to another state?”

  Fort curled up his lip. “What in the heck are you talking about? What attachment?”

  “Your girl lives in Texas, right? How you can be committed here when half your heart is across the country? Sure, you've got time in the Navy with law enforcement experience, but—”

  “There should be no ‘but.’”

  “Except there is. You keep yourself detached from our community. You've got a gal we've never met, much less know her name. The veteran card will get you some votes, but not enough, because folks here see you don't belong. They see you don't have roots or act like part of the community. Nope, not you. Darn, Fort, it’s like you're just handing me the job. Too bad because it would be nice if this could get sporty. I'd like an opponent, and I'd like to prove I can smoke that person. I'd prefer that humiliation to go to you. What the heck? You should run anyway.” Deke chuckled and winked.

  Fort guffawed. “You think I want this job? If I did run, you wouldn't be able to keep up with me. I lap you in skill and common sense.”

  “If you had any common sense, you'd have brought that girl of yours here and showed her around town. Now that Tinsdale's told everyone he's not running for re-election, anything you do will look like a pathetic attempt. Which it will be.” Deke nodded, his smile smug.

  Fort cursed that fateful day when he'd made up the girlfriend. He'd done it so flippantly and casually he couldn't even recall the specifics of when and where her inception occurred. One moment he was saying “no” to the constant bombardment of set-up offers, the next the lie was slipping off his tongue. He only wanted it to stop. And it had. The immediate cessation was wonderful. So much that, other than the taste it left in his mouth, he'd found little harm in continuing the white lie, being as vague as possible.

  “I could show up with
a three-headed monkey as my woman and still kick your butt in the election. You're an insurance salesman posing as a deputy. Eventually, you'll get tired of playing dress up and move along. You always do. The good people here know that.” Fort let his barb sit for a second. Yeah, it was probably real immature they were holding on to grievances from their teen years, but no sense pretending otherwise. When two highly competitive men are around each other the need to come out on top is primitive. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to do some actual work.” He picked up his cover, a dark brown Stetson, from the corner of his desk and fit it on his head. Following a nod, he strolled to the door.

  “Mrs. Zykowski is a lonely woman. There ain't nothing by those tracks but kids. I already spoke with her foreman. He hasn't seen anything, but you go ahead and waste taxpayer dollars on making her feel good. I'll make sure to point that out once we're running against each other,” Deke called.

  Fort let the station door swing closed with a bang and continued his stroll down the street, whistling. Wolf Creek was the quintessential small town, and the walk to the diner was quick. Comprised of four blocks of brick and stone buildings in a square shape, Wolf Creek had everything he needed—a bar, diner, church (a Catholic one, a person had to go the next town over if they were looking for a different denomination or into the big city if they wanted contemporary religion), the courthouse and sheriff's office, a small newspaper, a woman's clothing store, and a flower shop. The feed store sat just beyond the square and provided the men's clothing as well.

  The evening air was cool and refreshing, and though it was almost nightfall, the long days of light made it feel earlier than it was. He stared out at the foothills that led to Yellowstone and fell in love with the town all over again. Having spent eight years in various ports and countries, he learned what home felt like, and it was Wolf Creek. He belonged here. Heck, even Brewster, Texas felt like a place he once visited. Maybe it was all the bad memories. Whatever the reason, he didn't give it much thought. He was happy in Wolf Creek, and that's what counted. Would that change if Deke was sheriff? The man couldn't spot a clue if it was taped to his forehead. He was more concerned with looking good, feeling important, and spouting insurance mumbo-jumbo.

  Fort let out a curse under his breath. He wanted to be sheriff. He wanted to keep this town safe, he wanted to help the town prosper, and a small part of him wanted to make Deke suck it.

  Once at the diner, he greeted the handful of patrons. Mr. Phillips, Mr. James, and Old man Beasley from the town over, Bison's Prairie, sat in a corner, likely one-upping each other with their Vietnam stories. Old man Beasley had survived being mauled by a sick grizzly so he always won the arguments. They got together every Saturday for lunch and Wednesday for dinner.

  He saw his friend Bryce Jacobson and his hugely-pregnant-with-twins wife, Hannah. A horsewoman to the bone, Hannah had found her riding restricted per doctor’s orders and was driving Bryce insane. Not to mention chewing out every other customer at the drugstore they owned. To save their marriage and their relations with the townspeople, he and Bryce had concocted a plan to keep her busy. Hannah, also a whiz at spreadsheets, was compiling information regarding station calls and crimes in the area. Tonight, he was handing her information from the other cities and would later look for commonalities.

  “Bryce,” Fort said and slapped his friend on the back. “How are you Hannah? You look stunning.”

  “I look like a ginormous hippo. And you are a liar. If I had any energy, I'd slap you upside the head.” As soon as the words were out, she turned crimson red. “I'm sorry, Fort. I'm just miserable, and I think it's unfair that everyone else isn't.”

  “If it’s any consolation, Bryce is miserable, too.” Fort said.

  Bryce said in a rush of words, “Not because of you, dear, but because I know you are.”

  “Oh, shut up,” she said, then buried her head in her hands.

  “Hannah, I have the other town's numbers. You want them or should I—”

  “Give them,” she said with her hand out, fingers wagging.

  Fort handed her the thumb drive. “Thanks for this.”

  “You want to join us?” Bryce asked with a pleading tone.

  “Sorry, I'm here to see someone.”

  Hannah said, “Well, we know it’s not a girl since you keep all that close. Just once I'd like to know about this woman of yours who can keep your attention from across the country.”

  Fort smiled, keeping it tight-lipped.

  “Just go,” she said. “If you can't even indulge a woman who is so miserable and will soon shoot watermelons out her—”

  “I'm off,” Fort said backing away. “Enjoy your dinner, and thanks, Hannah.”

  She dismissed him with a flick of her hand. Fort felt bad for his buddy but, hey, these were the consequences of messing around with women.

  Fort scanned the dinner. He found Mrs. Z in a booth by herself in the back. Wednesday was a never-fail.

  Her white hair sported pink tips, and he couldn't help but notice her Stetson had been bedazzled. Her colorful appearance matched her personality.

  “Evening, Mrs. Zykowski,” Fort said and took off his hat, dipping his head slightly in greeting.

  “Evening, Fortune. Catch any bad guys today?” She'd been widowed last year, and her only son had split town for parts unknown. Poor Mrs. Z was out there all alone most days with only her hired help for company. She ran a small herd, growing smaller every year, and Fort wondered how much longer she had in her. Bison's Prairie had a nice senior resort with bingo every Thursday. He knew this because she'd told him about it once. Since her land abutted his on the east, Fort made a mental note to ride through and check on her in a day or so.

  “No ma'am, no bad guys to be had. Mind if I join you?”

  Her face lit up. “I would love that.”

  He caught the waitress Sally’s eye. “I'll have the special, please,” he said as he slid into the booth, then adjusted his sidepiece so it wasn't digging into his ribs. Next to hers, he set his hat upside down so it rested on the crown.

  She leaned forward. “Did you hear about the nonsense on the tracks last night? So loud and using filthy words.”

  Fort raised his brows. “You could hear what they said?”

  “Occasionally, when they would yell, but mostly no. Kept me up all hours. I thought about shooting a gun out there to scare them off but”—she tapped her glasses—“with these old peepers, I was afraid I'd hit someone.”

  “I'm glad you didn't. I'll ride out in a bit and have a look. About what time was it last night?”

  She furrowed her brow. “Well, let me see. The news had ended. I know this because I sleep with the TV on, and when they woke me, I saw that one of those bad commercials selling junk was on. What do they call them?”

  Fort knew she'd stay stuck searching for the name if he didn't move her along. “Infomercials.”

  “Yes, those,” she said, pointing a quick finger at him. “Dumbest thing ever, those infomercials. Except I did see one with a vacuum that looked good and another with an easy way to cut up salad.”

  “You up late a lot?”

  “I think my afternoon naps are messing up my sleep,” she said. “But I really like them.”

  “I'll go out after the news ends and hang out a bit tonight.” He'd be off work by then, but Fort believed a lawman was never really off the clock. Besides, it was only a handful of miles beyond his house.

  Mrs. Z patted his hand. “You're a good boy, Fortune. I appreciate you looking into this. When I called it in, that Sutton boy took my information, and I could tell he didn't believe me.” She nodded several times for added emphasis. “But he was always like that as a child, too.”

  “Like how?”

  Mrs. Z sat back in the booth and clutched the handles of her purse. “Blasé. Why shouldn't he be, though? Everything's always gone his way. Even as a child. It all came easy. He never thought he could be hurt.” She shook her head. “Losing Laura was an a
wful way to get a taste of how life really is, but still don't see him breaking his old ways all that much.”

  Fort thought about her words, tapping his finger on the cheap laminate of the tabletop. “He just told me he was running for sheriff.”

  Mrs. Z snorted, then instantly sobered. “Well, he has been here his whole life. Maybe he's finally growing up. I'll admit he's not been in any trouble since high school, even if he does come across a bit like Eddie Haskell. Do you even know who that is?”

  In a blink, Fort witnessed how quickly the mindset of the town went from disapproving to acceptance. “Yes, they still show reruns of Leave it to Beaver.”

  “It's not like he could destroy the town if he won,” she said, then oh'd when Sally placed their hot plates of meatloaf before them.

  Fort knew she spoke from naiveté. He'd seen an elected official use a town as his own bank and sit over the locals like an emperor, taking from their pockets.

  They ate in silence a few bites before Fort cast his lure. “Deke said he'd love for me to run so he can beat me.”

  Mrs. Z smiled. “You'd be a wonderful sheriff. Much like Sheriff Tinsdale. But do you plan on staying? No one ever knows.” She didn't wait for an answer and returned to eating.

  “I’m planning to stay. I like it here.” Had he never said that to anyone other than his mother before?

  “Well, that's good news. We sure like having you around. Maybe once you get settled, you could run against Deke in the future.”

  Fort wasn't sure how much more settled he needed to be. Heck, the only time he left the town or county was for official business or to go to the livestock auctions for the ranch. “What makes a person settled?”