Carrie Alexander - The Maverick

Mary Lucas had asked for leniency, and Mary did know how to play a mean game of canasta.

The judge looked up. Every eye in the courtroom was trained on her face, which put her in a better mood. “And finally, we have the prosecutor—” the fresh-out-of-law-school pipsqueak brightened expectantly “—who also is disinclined to prosecute the case, considering the time span and Mr. Salinger’s clean record and gainful employment thereafter. Is that right?”

The prosecutor agreed.

Judge Entwhistle addressed Luke Salinger. “I’m of a mind to see that you get what you have coming to you, young man, fourteen years too late or not.” She scrutinized the defendant, trying to decide if he was as lawless as the case signified or merely temporarily misguided, as according to Mary Lucas.

After a nice, lengthy silence, the judge cleared her throat. “Which leads to my ruling. I’ve decided to continue this case indefinitely. In the meantime, Mr. Salinger, you’re free to go.” The judge tapped her gavel at the sudden rise of chatter. “However,” she said heavily, silencing the courtroom, “I also intend to keep you under close supervision, Mr. Salinger.” She twitched a scolding finger, deciding to take a left turn off the rule book. “As a matter of fact, I do believe it would be wise to appoint a watchdog to see that you behave yourself. By order of this court, I place Mr. Lucas Salinger under the charge of—”

Mary Lucas set her cane and rose from her seat in the first row, a proud, tall, gaunt figure in a Western-cut business suit.

“—Deputy Sophie Ryan,” the judge finished with a flourish.

A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Several mouths dropped open in shock, including Sophie’s. Judge Entwhistle favored the young deputy with a woman-to-avenging-woman smile. “Deputy Ryan will see that you pay for your crimes, Mr. Salinger. I wish you both the best of luck.” A satisfying smash of the gavel. “And that’s all she wrote, people. Court is adjourned.”

MARY LUCAS STABBED HER CANE against the marble floor. “Of all the foolish notions!”

A small smile flickered across Luke’s face. He’d completed the paperwork of his official release to find his grandmother waiting for him outside the courtroom doors and Deputy Sophie Ryan set like a guard dog near the exit at the other end of the hall. In between were a surprising number of townspeople, some of them friends, many of them busybodies, all of them loitering to see firsthand what would happen next.

Which was why Luke smiled. One glance at Sophie and he knew what was going to happen next—something he’d been waiting to do for fourteen years.

“I’m certain our lawyer can handle the situation,” Mary continued. She cast her grandson a sharp look. “If you had called, I might have heard about your unfortunate incarceration in time to deal with it properly.”

“I’m sorry, Grandmother. I would have called, but I didn’t want to involve you.” Luke—he’d been named after his mother’s side of the family—bent slightly to kiss the old woman’s cheek. She held herself stiffly and gave an abrupt “Harrumph,” but her stern bluish-gray eyes had suddenly developed a softening sheen.

Luke stroked a hand between her shoulder blades, reassuring himself that she was okay. He’d expected that in her late seventies his grandmother would have become noticeably older, but other than the cockeyed gait that precipitated the cane, she was the same tall, spare, tough old bird that she’d always been. Of course, she was not the type to give in without a fight, not even to old age.

Mary looked him up and down. “I certainly hope that this is the last of it, young man. Now that you’re back where you belong, I’ll stand for no more of your ma-lingering. Unless you’ve changed your mind about our business dealings—” Luke’s shrug conceded that he hadn’t “—you’ll take your place at the ranch.” She tapped her cane for emphasis. “Yes, yes. That’ll do. Running the ranch was never Heath’s strong suit. But you’ll be fine at the job, Luke. Just fine.”

“If I choose to stay, we can discuss it.”

The imperious angle of her head drew his attention to her feathery cap of white-as-snow hair. One sign that she’d grown older; when he’d left, it had been dark gray. “You’ll stay,” she insisted.

“I’ll consider it.”

Mary looked deliberately to the other end of the hallway, where Sophie stood by the double doors that led outside. “Oh, I think you’ll definitely be staying.”

Suspicion rankled. Luke’s gaze skipped across the curious faces of those loitering in the long hallway. Every muscle in his stomach clenched. Did they all know something that he didn’t?

“You heard Harriet’s ruling. You’re to stay under court supervision.” Mary nodded with a good amount of satisfaction, apparently realizing that the judgment hadn’t been so foolish after all.

“Oh, right. That.” He doubted that the ruling was legally enforceable, but for now he saw no reason to protest. It might be enjoyable, having Sophie as his watchdog.

“You will stay. I’m an old woman now, Luke. I’ve had all of your rebellion I can take. I need to see that my family is safe and settled, capable of carrying on to the next generation…” Again, Mary glanced toward Sophie.

A second shot of suspicion darkened Luke’s thoughts. “Don’t get any ideas in that regard, Grandmother.”

Mary’s thin lips curled in what passed for a smile. Her gaze shifted. “It’s not ideas that should concern you,” she insinuated.

Luke cocked his head. “Meaning?”

“Meaning that it’s time we had a serious talk, young man.”

After fourteen years apart, he could see the sense in that. Unfortunately, Mary Lucas’s “serious talks” usually entailed him buckling to her will. There was no listening or back and forth; only orders. She’d wanted him to study mining, mineralogy and business at Wyoming State. When that failed, he’d been instructed to focus on ranch work, then to surrender his motorcycle for the reward of a brand-new Chevy Blazer just like his brother’s. Although Luke had tried to explain to Mary and his frequently absent father that he wasn’t suited to the life they expected him to lead, not even his skirmishes with the law had seemed to convince them. His father put Luke’s troubles down to a bad reaction to his mother’s death, sure he’d get over it in time.

It had been more complicated than that. But explaining would hurt his father, and Luke couldn’t do that. Mary Lucas knew the truth, but she admitted only what suited her. She put his maverick ways down to grief and the sowing of wild oats, too bullheaded to believe that she couldn’t domesticate him to her purposes.

During those days, Sophie had been Luke’s only comfort. His eyes sought her out as surely as a compass points north. He moved toward her without conscious intent, brushing past the curious onlookers. Snake Carson stepped into Luke’s path, tattooed and muscled, grinning and calling him Maverick, saying something about Mustangs sticking up for each other. With a friendly slap on the shoulder, Luke made his way past the diehard member of his old motorcycle gang. Plenty of time for that later.

Someone pushed a door open to enter the courthouse. A slanting ray of bright September sunshine washed over Sophie. She turned away, squinting, tugging on her hat brim, the girlish curve of her cheek as firm and downy as a golden-pink apricot.

Luke put his arms around her. Struck with resurgent emotions, he wanted to sweep her up and carry her down the broad concrete steps. Only the years of misunderstanding that stood between them restrained the impulse.

She let out a squeak at his unexpected touch. He said, “Come outside with me,” giving no time for objection as he led her out the double doors. They clanged shut, cutting off the rising babble of voices. With only seconds to spare, he pulled Sophie off to the side. In the cool shadow of the portico, his lips covered hers. Sweet bounty. Her mouth was open, soft, caught by surprise. And warm, so warm…like liquid sunshine. His arms curved around her narrow back, drawing her closer.