Linda Warren - The Sheriff of Horseshoe, Texas

Like hell. She stood and linked her fingers together, making a two-handed fist. It was now or never.

“Let’s go,” he said as he stepped closer.

With every ounce of strength she had, she swung her clenched hands at Zeke’s face. There was a loud pop, skin connecting with skin, and to her surprise Zeke went down. She took off at a run for the woods, not looking back.

THE THICK WOODS and brushy undergrowth impeded Wyatt’s progress. But Blaze was everything Tripp had said—a real workhorse. She picked her way through the thicket easily, never faltering. Luckily there was a full moon to light the way.

The heat was oppressive in the deep woods and every breath of air was a godsend. The mosquitoes were thick and he wished he’d taken the time to put on a long-sleeve shirt. But his only goal now was to reach Zeke’s. He feared for Ms. Ross’s safety.

He finally reached the Brazos and he urged Blaze faster as they followed the riverbank toward Zeke’s property. Reaching the clearing, he dismounted and looped the reins around a drooping tree branch. He pulled the rifle from the scabbard and moved toward the shack.

As he drew closer, he saw Zeke’s truck and stopped. Zeke was here. Was Ms. Ross? An owl hooted, breaking the unending silence. Something rustled in the bushes and Wyatt scanned the perimeter of Zeke’s cluttered yard. Where was he?

He heard a moan. It sounded like a wounded animal. As Wyatt watched, a form rose in the moonlight. Zeke. He rushed forward and pushed Zeke to the ground, holding the rifle on him.

“Sheriff,” Zeke blubbered in surprise, holding a hand to his head.

With a foot on Zeke’s chest, Wyatt asked, “Where’s Ms. Ross?”

“Who’s that?”

“The woman you took from the jail,” Wyatt replied.

“The fancy lady?”

“Yes. Where is she?”

Zeke rubbed his head. “She hit me.”

Wyatt removed his foot, not in the least surprised.

“Where is she now?”

“Don’t know. Don’t want a woman who hits.”

“Why did you take her in the first place?”

“She wanted out of jail and I git her out.”

“Why didn’t you let her go?”

Zeke frowned. “’Cause she’s mine.”

Wyatt exhaled deeply. “Zeke…” Just then, headlights darted though the woods. A door slammed and Stuart charged into the clearing with his gun drawn.

“Over here!” Wyatt called, and pulled Zeke to his feet. “Cuff him,” he said to Stuart.

As Stuart snapped handcuffs onto Zeke’s wrists, Wyatt asked again, “Where did the woman go?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Zeke muttered. “She hit me.”

Stuart looked at Wyatt. “What do you think?”

Wyatt glanced toward the woods. “I think she’s out there somewhere.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Take Zeke and lock him up, then get together a posse. We have to find her.”

“Are you staying here?”

“Yes. I’ll start searching.”

Stuart grabbed Zeke’s arm. “What were you thinking? You can’t just take a woman. That’s kidnapping. Now she’s lost out here.”

“Don’t care.”

On the way to the truck Stuart continued to reprimand Zeke, but Zeke stuck to his “don’t care” reply. Ms. Ross had shattered his illusion of what a woman should be. Wyatt thought Ms. Ross was good at shattering illusions.

Wyatt removed his hat and wiped his forehead with his arm. Hot sweat trickled down his back. Why did Ms. Ross have to speed through his town?

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