Джеймс Паттерсон: Texas Outlaw

I want to support her, but what I need right now is the comfort of home. I need to heal by helping Dad on the ranch, eating Mom’s home-cooked meals. I’d give just about anything to have Willow fly back to Texas and spend some time here, but getting on a plane and flying to Tennessee is the last thing I want to do right now.

I try to explain this the best I can to Willow, but it turns our conversation melancholy. We talk a little more about trivial matters, but I get the impression we’re both thinking about what’s not being said.

Her career is taking off, and the long-distance thing we’re doing can last only so long. If I’m not willing to take the plunge and move to Tennessee, what are we going to do?

And after today—when I almost died in the line of duty—I imagine Willow is wondering what she’s gotten herself into. Can her heart really handle being in love with a Texas Ranger?

Are our careers compatible?

As great as we are together, are we really compatible?

“I gotta go,” Willow says. “I’m due onstage.”

I tell her I love her and hang up. I stand alone in the darkness, listening to the chirp of the insects and looking up at the stars. They don’t shine quite as bright as they used to with all the light pollution seeping up from the horizon, that’s for sure. I pick up my empty beer bottle and head into the house.

Thinking of Willow performing seventeen hundred miles away, I open my laptop and go to YouTube to find a video of her. I watch the video that made her an internet sensation—just her, sitting onstage on a barstool, with her leg in a cast and a guitar in her hands.

That’s my girlfriend, I think proudly.

I catch myself smiling.

Before closing the computer, I feel a temptation. I search for my name, and sure enough a video pops up showing a grayish image of me in the bank. I press Play. There’s no sound, but I can see myself talking to the robber with a gun to my head. When the one with the machine gun climbs onto the counter, we’re all three in the frame. My heart is pounding as I watch. On the screen, I drop to my knee and a flash of light takes the hat off my head—

I slam the laptop closed.

I think of Willow, what it must be like for her, seeing this and facing the reality that she could lose me at any time.

Chapter 7

A FEW DAYS later, Dad and I are riding horses along the perimeter of the property, looking for places in the fence that need repair. I’ve got my gun on my hip in case we run into any rattlesnakes. And I’ve got a new hat on my head. Willow had it shipped to me, a Silverbelly Stetson with a high crown, wide brim, and sterling silver buckle on the band.

The hat probably cost three hundred dollars.

It doesn’t feel quite right on my head. I’m trying to break it in, but I’m sure missing my old hat.

Dad’s riding Dusty, a roan he’s had for a decade, and I’m riding Mom’s horse, Browny, a beautiful young bay. We’re supposed to be checking the fence, but my brothers and I helped Dad with a big repair just a few months ago. Really this is just an excuse for Dad and me to get out and enjoy ourselves for a few hours.

We don’t talk much. Dad knows that’s not what I need right now. Instead, I focus on the sound of the horses clopping along and enjoy the faint breeze blowing on our faces. It’s midmorning, and the day hasn’t grown oppressively hot yet.

I feel my phone buzz and dig it out of my jeans. By the time it’s in my hand, I’ve missed the call. It was from Kyle Hendricks.

“I better call back,” I say to Dad.

There’s a stream up ahead with a big oak tree providing shade, so we stop there and let the horses drink. I dismount and call my lieutenant back.

“You ready to get back to work, Ranger?” Kyle says as soon as he picks up.

“So soon?” I say.

“You want a longer paid vacation?” he says.

“Just surprised is all.”

“There ain’t much to investigate when the whole damn thing is on video,” Kyle says.

“All right,” I say. “I’ll be in tomorrow.”

The truth is, I am disappointed. It’s been good for me to spend the last few days with my family. I want to go back to work, but not in a rush.

“Don’t come to company headquarters,” Kyle says. “We need you for something else. You ever heard of Rio Lobo?”

“The ghost town?”

“No, that’s Lobo,” Kyle says. “Rio Lobo is a little town over in West Texas. Few hours from Fort Hancock.”

Kyle says a town councilwoman has died under suspicious circumstances.

“All evidence suggests natural causes, but the local detective thinks otherwise. They’ve asked us to send a Ranger.”

All of this sounds very strange to me. Not that they would ask the Rangers for help. That’s what we’re here for. Texas has six Ranger companies, each assigned to a geographic region. Company F, housed in the Waco office, is nowhere near this town way over on the other side of the state, close to New Mexico.

As if he can sense my confusion, Kyle says that the Ranger covering that area recently retired, and Company E, out of El Paso, can’t spare the manpower from an ongoing, enormous drug-trafficking investigation.

“They asked if we had anyone to spare, and I volunteered you. I figured you’d want to keep a low profile right now.”

I sense a subtext to Kyle’s words. It’s true I want to keep a low profile, but this assignment seems low stakes, the kind of job they’d typically assign to a new hire in need of field experience. He might prove himself, and even if he doesn’t, screwing up won’t be too much of a black mark on his reputation. There are other Rangers available to do this job. Which tells me something.

My lieutenant is sending me on this job as a punishment.

“Is there a problem?” Kyle says. “You got quiet there for a minute.”

“Are you really this petty?” I say, even though I know I shouldn’t.

I guess everyone is right—I am a hothead.

“What did you say?” Kyle snaps. “Call you a hero and suddenly you’re too good for a small-town field assignment?”

I bite my tongue. It’s what I should have done in the first place.

Kyle says, “I’m giving you an order, Ranger.”

I’ve been trying to walk the straight and narrow within the Texas Ranger Division. I’ve been careful not to piss anyone off lately. I need to do this job and do it to the best of my ability. And if spending a few weeks in the middle of nowhere is what it takes to mend fences with my lieutenant, that’s what I’m going to do.

“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to make my voice sound as earnest as possible. “I was out of line. I’m happy to do it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice still trembling with anger. “You leave first thing in the morning.”

Chapter 8

THAT NIGHT, MY parents invite the whole family over for dinner. This is kind of a tradition for us. Whenever I’m going out of town on an assignment, everyone gets together. No one says it out loud, but I’ve always suspected they’re worried they might never see me again. Of course we all know from the recent bank incident that I don’t have to go to another part of the state to be in danger.

As soon as Dad told her I was leaving, Mom called my brothers and then got to work making my favorite dinner growing up, country-fried steak and gravy. It takes her a good three hours to prepare, but once you’ve had my mom’s country-fried steak, you’ll never order those frozen squares restaurants try to pass off as homemade.

My brother Chris and his wife, Heather, show up first, bringing along my nephew, Beau, who just turned three. Chris is the middle brother, the steadiest, the most reliable. The most like Dad. He helps Mom in the kitchen while Heather and I play with Beau, who is talking a blue streak these days.