Ann Voss Peterson: Legally Binding

Bart charged Kenny.

Spinning on his heel, Kenny scampered from the alley. Once he was a safe distance away, he looked over his shoulder. “I’ll get you, Bart. You won’t get away with what you’ve done.”

The door of the tavern flew open and Wade Lansing stepped out. Assessing the situation through narrowed gray eyes, he walked over to Bart. “What the hell is going on out here?”

While Bart explained what had happened, Lindsey watched the small crowd that had followed Kenny to the alley disperse. A single woman stayed and stepped out from the shadows, the light from the setting sun turning her curls to fire. She scribbled notes on a pad of paper.

Cara.

Under normal circumstances, Lindsey would be happy to see one of the few good friends she’d made since moving to Mustang Valley. But these circumstances were anything but normal. Cara Hamilton was a reporter for the Mustang Gazette. And next to the sheriff or one of his deputies, a reporter was the last person Lindsey wanted to see right now. Even if it was Cara.

She darted around Wade and Bart. She couldn’t do anything to change what had happened between Bart and Kenny, but maybe she could appeal to Cara not to splash the news all over Mustang Valley. “Hey, Cara.”

Cara brushed a curl from her forehead and looked up from her notebook. “Hi, Lindsey. How are you mixed up in this? Are you representing Bart Rawlins?” Cara’s eyes flashed with inquisitiveness, her pen poised over paper.

Great. Lindsey hadn’t taken into account that she might be part of Cara’s story. “Are you covering Jeb Rawlins’s murder?”

“Of course not.” Cara rolled her eyes. “Beau is keeping the good stories to himself as usual.”

Lindsey nodded. Cara’s editor, and owner of the Mustang Gazette, Beau Jennings, had covered every major story in Mustang Valley for the past forty-some years. “He knows once he gives you a major story, the Dallas papers will snatch you up in a heartbeat.”

Cara tilted her head. “Of course, having a friend representing Bart Rawlins might just give me the break I need. So are you Bart’s lawyer, Lindsey?” she asked again.

Lindsey should have known changing the subject wouldn’t throw Cara off. Once her friend smelled a story, she didn’t give up until she rooted out the truth. Lindsey sighed. “Yes.”

“Why the heavy sigh? Is his case that bad?”

“No.”

“He has a strong case then?”

She gave her friend a warning smile. “Quit fishing, Cara.”

“Then talk to me.”

“Off the record?”

“Okay.”

“Don’t print anything about this ridiculous fight.”

“You’re kidding, right? This is news, Lindsey. I can’t just pretend I didn’t see what happened.”

She let out another sigh. “No, I suppose you can’t. I’m just worried about poisoning the jury pool.”

“I don’t know what it’s like in a big city like Boston, but gossip travels like dust in a strong wind around here. Even if I don’t write about what happened, people will hear about it. And there’s no telling what kind of twisted version they’ll get.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Damn straight.” Cara’s hazel eyes twinkled with humor.

Lindsey tried to return her smile, but her attempt fell flat.

“But you don’t have to worry. I’ll tell the whole story.”

She gave Cara a questioning look.

“Meaning, I’ll be writing that Kenny came looking for Bart and threw the first punch. I’ll also include a bit of background, like Kenny’s conviction for fraud.”

“He’s been convicted?”

“Kenny Rawlins is a master of the get-rich-quick scam. He’s cheated a lot of people in Mustang Valley, a fact my readers won’t easily forget.”

Lindsey pressed her lips into a line. It wasn’t a great situation, but she could live with it. “Thanks, Cara.”

“For what? Telling the truth?” Cara smiled. “If you really want to thank me, give me a few quotes about Bart’s case.”

Lindsey took a deep breath of evening air. She supposed it was only fair she give her friend a quote. “He’s an innocent man. You can print that. And I’ll give you the scoop on who’s guilty as soon as I find out.”

BART WATCHED a single set of approaching headlights play across Lindsey’s flawless skin. His attention trailed to her long, elegant fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of her little white sports car. On her right hand, a platinum ring with some kind of red stone glowed in the dashboard light. Her left ring finger was free of jewelry.

He tried to concentrate on the ribbon of highway stretching from Mustang Valley to the Four Aces Ranch. He shouldn’t be noticing Lindsey’s skin and fingers and whether she was wearing a wedding ring. She was his lawyer, not a pretty young thing he’d met at some honky-tonk.

Besides, he had more pressing things to deal with than a crush he couldn’t do anything about. Like being accused of murdering his uncle. Like the real possibility he would be spending the rest of his life behind bars. Even if Lindsey wasn’t his lawyer and far out of his league, he couldn’t do a damn thing about his attraction to her. Not with the prospect of spending the rest of his life in Huntsville hanging over his head.

After Kenny had left the alley, he and Lindsey had resumed their search for beer bottles with missing labels. All they’d come up with were two bottles and a few shards of glass from the bin Kenny had tipped over. Tomorrow morning Lindsey planned to drive to Fort Worth to drop off the bottles and shards at the same lab where Doc had sent the other samples. A long shot, but better than nothing.

Of course, if it hadn’t been for Lindsey’s theory about the drug, he wouldn’t have a shot at all.

His focus drifted back to her face. Her eyebrows knit together. She gnawed on her lower lip. All in all, she looked as worried as he felt. “What are you thinking about?” he asked.

She started at his voice, then glanced at him briefly before bringing her attention back to the road ahead. “Your cousin, Kenny. Cara Hamilton said he’s been convicted for fraud.”

“I suppose Cara’s going to write an article about what a hothead I was tonight.”

“She promised to be fair and accurate. Under the circumstances, it’s the best we can hope for.”

“Fair and accurate is still going to make me look like a hothead. I doubt that will help my case with the good people of Mustang County.”

“The article probably won’t help, but something she brought up to me tonight might. What can you tell me about the scams your cousin pulled?”

Bart searched his memory. He’d tried not to pay too much attention to Kenny’s dealings. Just thinking about them made his cheeks burn with shame that he and his cousin shared the same blood. “He was into everything from selling lame horses to spreading stories that local legend Shotgun Sally was born and raised on Jeb’s ranch, the Bar JR.”

“My friends Cara and Kelly like to talk about Shotgun Sally. Kelly is one of Sally’s descendants.” Her elegant eyebrows dipped low over those intense blue eyes. “How could Kenny profit from saying Sally was born on the Bar JR?”

“If there was a way, he found it. He sold worthless tin plates claiming they were from Sally’s homestead. Tried to promote tours of Jeb’s property. He even sold jars of dirt saying it came from Sally’s grave.”

“But that’s all pretty harmless. Why was he charged?”

“After he gave up on cashing in on Shotgun Sally, he sold cemetery plots to old folks. A lot of cemetery plots. Only the plots weren’t his to sell. He did three years in Huntsville. That was the end of his scams, far as I know. Though I’m sure he’s still finding some way to make a quick buck.”