Kathleen Creighton - The Sheriff of Heartbreak County

Boyd.

There was no doubt whatsoever in Roan’s mind that if Boyd Stuart believed Jason Holbrook guilty of setting the fire that killed his daughter, with no way of proving it in the eyes of the law, he wouldn’t hesitate to take matters into his own hands. He’d consider it frontier justice. Justice…for Erin.

Calm settled over Roan like a cold thick fog, insulating sensations, muffling feeling, letting him calmly key on his radio mike and sign out for the night the same way he did every night. “SD Mobile one, Donna…I’m headin’ for the barn… Out.” Then he headed home to confront the man who’d all but raised him, the man who’d been, in every way that counted, a father to him. The only one he’d ever known.

The storms that had blown through the day before were gone. The night sky was clear. The moon wasn’t full, but it had risen to shed enough light so Mary could see clearly, now her eyes had adjusted to the darkness.

The dark sedan had rolled to a silent stop in the shadow of one of the giant cottonwoods. She didn’t know how long she watched, standing beside the window while her heart kept up its frantic pounding and sweat crawled down her back in icy tickles. Then…she saw something move out there in the darkness. The car door opened…then shut without a sound, with no flare of light from the interior. Whoever it was, he’d thought to turn it off.

She wondered if it would be the hitman who’d shot at her on Saturday…or if Diego would come for her himself this time.

One thing she knew-she wouldn’t wait for him here. In the house she’d be trapped; there was no place to hide where he wouldn’t find her. Now that Susie Grace was safe, she thought, it would be better to run. Outdoors, in the maze of corrals and sheds, stables and animals, she’d have a chance. But how to escape? If she picked the wrong door she could run right into the intruder’s arms. And there were only two ways out of the house, not counting the boarded-up hallway-the front door, and right around the corner from there, the kitchen.

Susie Grace had gone out the kitchen door, so it would be unlocked. The intruder would probably come in that way. Which left the front door for her.

She crept out of the bedroom, down the hall and into the living room. When she heard the kitchen door creak softly, she wrenched open the front door, flew across the porch and down the steps, and ran. She ran instinctively, away from the sinister dark sedan, down the lane toward the old barn, bypassing the stables and the restlessly whickering horses. She ran without heed, praying her feet would find their own way in the darkness, praying she wouldn’t trip on a hummock of grass, praying Susie Grace had done what she’d been told and stayed at Boyd’s where she’d be safe. Praying.

Running as hard as she was, with her heart and breath loud in her ears, she didn’t hear the pounding footsteps until they were almost upon her. When she did hear them she gave a high, frantic cry and tried to run faster, but cruel hands caught her just inside the barn’s wide-open door. She struggled wildly, but the hands jerked her back against a hard, panting body. An arm clamped viciously across her throat, cutting off her breath.

A breathless laugh gusted through her hair. “What’re you fighting me for, Yance? I’m your fiancé, remember?” The voice was softly accented…well known to her.

The arm across her throat eased enough for her to gasp it out. “Diego?”

“Yeah, querida , who did you think? You know how long I been looking for you? Nice of you to make the news broadcasts, so I know where to find you, eh?”

“Diego, please-”

“Are you surprised to see me? Ah-well, you see, after the man I sent to kill you missed, I got to thinking…shooting is too easy a way for you to die.” His lips were close to her ear…his hot breath misted her cheek. “I think you should know what you did to me, sending me to prison. I want you to experience what I did…what was done to me, all those years. Then I kill you slowly…with my bare hands…while you look in my eyes-”

“Turn her loose.” The voice rasped through the darkness, a sound like a rusty hinge.

Roan turned the SUV onto the ranch’s gravel road, his fingers beating a restless tattoo on the steering wheel. Now that the moment of truth was here, his heart felt sore and heavy. How could this have happened? He’d have done just about anything-paid a high price in sweat, blood and tears, to set Mary free from the murder charge against her. Now he knew just how high that price was going to be. Dammit, Boyd.

Up ahead he could see the house was dark. Kind of early for everyone to be in bed, he thought, but maybe because Susie Grace wasn’t allowed to watch TV…

Then he saw the dark sedan.

Diego spun toward the sound, jerking Mary around too, pressed against him, his arm tight against her throat again.

“I said, turn her loose.” Boyd was a dark silhouette in the barn doorway, his bow-legged shape like something out of an old Western movie. Like something from a Western movie, too, was the old-fashioned weapon he held in his hand.

When Mary heard the clicking sound of the gun being cocked, she reacted out of instinct, perhaps helped by the self-defense classes she’d taken long ago. She stomped savagely on Diego’s instep, then let her body go limp.

Diego DelRey wasn’t a powerful man. In pain, and finding himself with Mary’s full dead weight in his arms, he gave a bellow of rage and let her slip to the ground.

Roan was out of the SUV before the wheels had stopped turning. A quick check of the sedan told him it was empty. He was heading for the house at a dead run when he heard the shot.

It sounded like thunder, trapped in the confines of that old wooden building. As it died away, Mary could hear panic-stricken wings flapping somewhere up in the rafters. Somewhere behind her, Diego was a motionless dark shape in the straw. She lifted her head and saw Boyd standing in the barn doorway, his arm hanging limp at his side, the gun pointing at the floor. She gave a little whimpering cry and was scrambling over to him on her hands and knees when she saw Roan running toward her.

She tried to rise, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. And then he was there, helping her up, folding her into his arms and holding her tightly. Whispering brokenly into her hair. “Oh God…Mary…Mary. Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Oh…God…Mary.”

Roan held on to her shaking body and knew he didn’t want to let go of her ever again. But when Boyd walked over to him, he knew he was going to have to, for a little while, at least. He peeled himself away from her and turned her into the curve of his arm to keep her close, and Boyd handed him his old Colt 45 revolver, butt-first.

“Want you both to know,” the rancher said in his gruff and crusty voice, “I wouldn’t’a let her go to jail.” He hesitated, then touched the bill of his cap and gave a little nod. “You got things to finish up here. I’ll be waitin’ for you in the car.”

His footsteps crunched away into the night.

Roan caught Mary’s arms. “Susie Grace-”

“It’s okay-she’s okay. She’s at Boyd’s.” Her voice broke and grew thick with tears. “Oh Roan… Boyd?”

“I’m afraid so.” Aching with love and grief, he took her face between his hands and whispered as he kissed away her tears, “It’s all over, Mary. The nightmare’s over. You’re free.”

It was the wee hours of the morning before Mary got to sleep. Long after Roan had left to accompany Boyd and Diego DelRey’s body back to town, after Susie Grace had fallen asleep with a placidly purring Cat tucked under her arm, she sat huddled in the middle of Roan’s bed, hugging her drawn-up knees, with the words Roan had said to her echoing inside her head.