Page 3 of The Cowboy's Justice

“What the fuck? No, no, no!” she shouted, jerking the phone from his hand. “This can’t be happening.”

“Dammit, Portia, what were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I didn’t want to get stuck behind a fucking truck and horse trailer! What’s going to happen?”

“The evidence is irrefutable. You’ll be arrested. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“You’re not serious!”

“He’ll probably handcuff you and—”

“Handcuff me? Like a common criminal?”

“I’m afraid so. Take a breath and try to stay calm.”

“Take a breath? Stay calm? How the fuck can I stay calm? Oh, no, will he put me in a cell?”

“Ah, probably not.”

“Probably?” she wailed. “William, do something!”

“I should be able to convince him not to hold you, but if the cowboy wants to make things difficult—”

“I’ll pay him. Contact him and tell him I’ll pay for the damages. In fact, tell him I’ll buy him a brand new truck. I’ll buy him two! I don’t care. Whatever he wants.”

“I’ll do what I can, but regardless, you’ve broken the law. Actually, many laws. At the very least you’ll get a bunch of citations.”

“I don’t care about any damn citations.”

“Portia, why don’t you go into the kitchen and make a fresh pot of coffee for the sheriff?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?”

“Yes! Being hysterical in front of him is the last thing I need. Get out of here before he gets back.”

“Fine, but, William—”

“You pay me a lot of money because I know what I’m doing. Now go.”

* * *

Marching from the room and walking down a short hallway into the chef’s kitchen, Portia made three cups of coffee with the built-in coffee maker. But smelling the enticing aroma gave her an idea. After hurriedly plating several gourmet muffins, she placed the three mugs on a tray, added a bowl of sugar cubes and a small jug of cream, then carried it back to the lounge, But as she approached she heard William’s voice.

“Thank you, Sheriff, I appreciate your cooperation.”

Letting out a relieved breath, she walked in.

“We’ve come to an understanding,” William declared as she set the tray on the coffee table. “You’ll have to make a court appearance in Fairview, listen to a lecture from the judge and pay some fines.”

“Thank you, Sheriff Cooper,” she said gratefully, hoping she sounded sincere. “Please, help yourself to coffee and a bite to eat.”

“Ah…well…it’s not quite that simple,” the sheriff said, shooting the lawyer a look. “I have to clear this with the D.A. and there’s also the matter of Devlin Hatfield’s truck.”

“I’ll be happy to take care of the damage.”

“That may not be enough.”

“I don’t understand.”

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