The No. 1 Sheriff in Texas

Today with six ranches that formed the Randell Corporation, the operation was far too complicated to work without everyone doing their part. It took all six Randell brothers, along with two cousins, to run things.

Besides family, Hank’s main concern these days was to protect the mustangs that roamed the valley here. About a dozen years back he’d made sure the wild ponies would always have a home when he bought up the land to keep it from ever being developed. He wanted the serene Mustang Valley for the wild ponies, his family and the generations to come. Even after he was gone, he trusted his sons to keep that legacy.

God willing, that would be a while longer.

Hank walked toward the dusty truck as Brandon pulled up beside the barn and climbed out. The boy wasn’t dressed in his deputy’s uniform, but the standard cowboy uniform of boots, jeans and Western shirt.

“Hey, Granddad.”

“Hi, Brandon.

A grown man, Brandon didn’t hesitate to come up and embrace him in a big hug. Hank liked that.

“What brings you out here, son?”

Brandon knew he hadn’t spent much time with Hank lately. He’d been working a lot, trying to make detective. “Does your favorite grandson have to have a reason?”

“Nope. We’re just glad you came. Come in and see Ella. I bet she’s got something good cooking.”

Brandon paused. “Ella’s cooking?” It had always been a family joke that their grandmother wasn’t good in the kitchen.

Hank grinned. “Yeah. She’s been taking a class,” he assured him. “And I don’t mind sayin’ my bride is getting pretty good.”

Brandon figured it was more Hank’s love for Ella. He’d finally confessed his feelings about fifteen years ago to his one-time housekeeper. Now, he’d eat anything she put in front of him.

“If you don’t mind, could we talk first?” Brandon asked.

Hank gave a nod. “Sure. Why don’t I show you the new colt your uncle Chance brought over? We’re gonna use him in the big raffle at the rodeo next month.”

The Circle B Rodeo had gone on for years, mainly to bring neighbors together to help out with the roundup. The past few years the money from the horse raffle went to the mustang rescue program.

“You’re comin’ aren’t ya?” Hank kept a fast pace as they headed to the barn.

For his age, Hank was in good shape. He stood straight and tall, and his mud-colored Stetson covered a head of thinning white hair. His body was still trim, no extra weight around his waist. His hands might have been a little crippled from arthritis, but it didn’t stop him from working.

Brandon smiled. “Isn’t it required of all Randells to show up?”

A big grin broke out on Hank’s face. “No, just that your dad and uncles are so competitive that they would never miss it.” They came to the barn, then Brandon slid open the door and walked inside the cool structure. “And we could always use your help at the roundup. Those greenhorns that pay to come to the guest ranch seem to get themselves lost more often than a stray calf.”

Years ago, they had turned the Circle B into a working guest ranch and the roundup was the highlight of the stay.

“So you need backup?”

His grandfather nodded. “Can I include you?”

“I’m starting my new job in a few days, so I’ll have to see if I can get the time off.”

Hank grinned. “Congratulations. Your dad told me you made detective. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“Thanks.”

They walked down the concrete aisle. “I’m not so sure Dad’s happy about it,” Brandon said. “I think he’d rather I move back home and take over running the ranch.”

Hank pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, legally the ranch does belong to you. Nice piece of land, too.” He glanced at Brandon. “But I take it your heart’s in law enforcement.”

Brandon didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, it is. It’s not that I don’t love the ranch, but I’m not into breeding cattle and training horses. Not all day, every day.”

They came to the stall in the corner where a nine-month-old chestnut colt was housed. “Hey, fella,” Brandon crooned. “How you doing?”

Hank opened the gate and they went inside. His grandfather coaxed the reddish hued animal to his side. “This is Hawk’s Flame.”

“Oh, man, he’s a beaut.” Brandon examined the chestnut with the white star on its forehead along with white socks on each leg. “How can Uncle Chance part with this guy?”

“No doubt he’s top quality horseflesh. Sired by Flying Hawk. His dam is Crimson Lady.”

Brandon should know this, trying to recall the last time he’d gone to see Uncle Chance and Aunt Joy. That only proved he hadn’t been around much. “I guess I’ve been living in town too long and not paying attention to what’s been going on.”

“I’m not judging you, Brandon. I think working in law enforcement is commendable, but don’t forget your roots, either. Talk with your dad.”

“I don’t think he wants to hear it right now.”

“Maybe if you come up with a plan. Maybe compromise some.”

Brandon nodded. That was just it—he didn’t have a plan, and now another complication. All he’d been able to think about in the past three days was Nora Donnelly. He’d called the hospital, but she hadn’t returned to work.

“I get the feelin’ there’s something else on your mind,” Hank said.

Brandon stroked the horse. “It’s a case I’ve been working on. A woman was attacked in the emergency room parking lot.”

“I read about that. How is she doing?”

“She was checked out and released that night.” He shook his head. “It’s just I have this feeling she knew her attacker.”

Hank frowned. “You mean like a husband?”

“No, she’s widowed, and she says she hasn’t dated anyone since his death, so no boyfriend. That seems strange because she’s pretty.”

“Pretty, huh?”

Brandon nodded. “Yeah. Even with all the bruises from the attack.”

“So she’s caught your eye.”

Yeah, she’d caught his eye all right. He released a long sigh. “My life just keeps getting more and more complicated.”

Hank grinned. “A pretty woman is always a complication, but the right one is so worth all the trouble.”

Four days had passed since the attack and Nora wasn’t sure what to do. There hadn’t been any more threats. No one was hanging around her apartment. No mysterious phone calls. Was the man still watching the hospital? Was he waiting for her to return to work? Had this been Jimmy’s sick way of letting her know he’d found her?