Page 43 of The Cowboy's Justice

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Portia had removed the cash from the safe and was reaching for the jewelry cases when her phone rang.

“Ignore it!” William barked.

“But it’s Devlin,” she exclaimed, glancing at the screen. “If I don’t answer he’ll wonder why.”

“I don’t give a shit. Let him wonder. If he comes over I’ll be gone by the time he arrives. Now get those cases out and empty everything into one box. What was that?” he abruptly demanded as a faint chime echoed through the house.

“The doorbell.”

“The doorbell?”

“Yeah, the doorbell,” Portia repeated. “I must be getting a delivery.”

“Forget it. Finish what you’re doing,” he snapped, then suddenly stepped over to the window. “What the fuck? I don’t see a van.”

In a flash she saw her chance.

Grabbing a large, round, glass paperweight off her desk, she charged towards him and slammed it against the back of his head. To her shock he didn’t make a sound, but his legs crumbled beneath him and he toppled into a heap on the floor. Dropping the globe and dashing out, she ran into the living room and was about to crouch down to help the sheriff when he abruptly sat up.

“What’s happened?” he asked urgently, hastily pulling the cuffs off his ankles. “Where’s William?”

“In my office. I hit him on the head with a glass ball and he sort of—fell down and didn’t get up. Lord, I hope I didn’t kill him.”

“I doubt it, and I don’t approve of citizens takin’ chances like that, but good for you,” he exclaimed, snatching up his phone. “Before I check on him I’d better see who’s ringin’ your bell.”

“Sheriff, look, Devlin’s here,” she exclaimed, staring across at the sliding glass doors.

As she hurried through the room to let him in, the sheriff strode to the front door and found Cade McLean, Andy Baker and Brody King.

“I guess you’d better join us, but what are you fellas doin’ here?”

“We’re the cavalry,” Andy replied, “though if you’re in charge I guess everything’s under control.”

“It’s gettin’ there, but mostly thanks to Portia,” he replied as they followed him inside. “She just told me she hit the guy on the head and knocked him out. I need to check on him.”

“Portia? You did what?” Devlin demanded.

“I saw the opportunity and I took it. It was no big deal.”

“Uh, yeah, it’s a very big deal.”

“I have to see how bad he is and get him in cuffs,” the sheriff declared striding from the room.

“Hey, Portia, where are you goin’?” Devlin asked, hurrying after her as she followed the sheriff.

“I want to be there. Can you blame me?” she shot back, continuing down the hall.

“Stop! You’ll just be in the way,” he said firmly, grabbing her arm as the sheriff opened the office door.

“Uh, Portia, there’s no-one in here,” the sheriff declared, staring around the room.

“But he was there!” she exclaimed, pointing at the floor, “and there’s the paperweight I used.”

“Dammit, and that window’s closed,” he muttered, marching over to it. “He’s still in the house. I’m callin’ in my boys, and you all need to leave.”

“We can help you search,” Devlin suggested.

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