Page 28 of The Sound of Sleighbells

Sinking onto the couch, she buried her face in her hands.

* * *

Judd slammed on the brakes as a deer leaped across the highway. The truck screeched to a stop just in time to avoid a collision.

Pay attention! he chastised himself as the animal flashed off into the trees. At least the roads weren’t icy tonight. Otherwise, he’d be dragging a dead deer off the hood of his truck—as if he hadn’t already made a spectacular fool of himself.

What had he been thinking tonight? Being with Ruth, buying a tree, sharing supper in her house, chatting with her children—it had all felt so natural. Looking at her across the table in that shabby little house, he’d burned to give her and her children the security they’d never had. And Ruth, so warm and brave and beautiful. How he’d wanted her.

Had it been overconfidence or sheer desperation that had led him to say those words to her on the porch? He’d given her an ultimatum—practically backed her into a corner. No wonder she’d turned him down.

Her refusal had been right on point. His decision to ride with his bike gang, even after she’d begged him not to, had changed not only his life but hers. The first husband—Skip’s father—who’d tragically died; the grinding poverty and hard work; the brutal second husband who’d abused her. If he’d listened to her that night, everything would have been different.

Driving through the ranch gate and passing the sheds, he noticed that the Yamaha was missing. Maybe Digger had moved on. But no such luck. His pack lay on the rumpled bed in the bunkhouse. Judd curbed the temptation to undo the flap and look inside. Digger would know if anything had been disturbed. He should at least wait until after he’d spoken with the sheriff.

In the house, he checked his voice mail. Nothing. Maybe his message hadn’t been passed on. He would try the sheriff’s office again in the morning.

Meanwhile, it was barely ten o’clock. Sleep was out of the question, and he was too restless to read or watch TV. Work was the only diversion that made sense. It might not take his mind off Ruth, but if he could put in two or three hours, at least he’d be making progress. He took a few minutes to brew some coffee. Then he carried the cup back through the breezeway and set to work on the presentation saddle.

* * *

There was a pay phone in a booth outside the convenience store. After changing a couple of bills into quarters, Digger closed himself inside the booth and placed a call to the Hutchins State Jail in Dallas.

Getting a prisoner on the phone wasn’t easy. But there were a few guards who would grease the wheels in exchange for small favors like cigarettes, smuggled drugs, or information. One of them should be on duty now.

After entering the extension he’d memorized, Digger listened to the ring and waited for the night guard to pick up. He swore under his breath as the phone rang again, then again. At last, the familiar nasal voice answered.

“This is Damian Schmidt,” Digger said, using his given name. “I’d like to speak with Ed McCoy.”

Chapter Seven

“It’s about time you checked in, Digger.” Even over the phone, Ed McCoy sounded like a bully. In the nine months they’d been cellmates, Digger had survived by being smart enough to flatter the man and become his prison lackey—a relationship that had continued after Digger’s release.

“You’d better have some news about my wife.” Ed’s voice lowered to a growl. Digger knew better than to remind the big man that Ruth was no longer his wife.

“I managed to track her down,” Digger said. “She’s still here in Branding Iron, living in a rented house with her children—”

“You mean my children. I don’t give a damn about that boy, but those little girls are my flesh and blood. And the bitch better not forget it. Just because I’m in here doesn’t mean I’d ever give up my rights. Has she found herself another man?”

“Hard to say. She’s been friendly with her old boyfriend, Judd Rankin, the saddlemaker. They were a hot item back when Ruth was in her teens.”

“Then why didn’t she ever tell me about him?”

“Don’t ask me. Her boy’s been working for Rankin. That’s all I know.”

Ed snorted. “Well, you keep an eye on them. Let me know everything they do.”

“Sure, Ed.” Digger knew better than to remind the big man that Ruth was free to do whatever she chose, and he was helpless to stop her. Where his ex-wife was concerned, Ed had a jealous streak a mile wide.

Digger deposited two more quarters at the prompt, then cleared his throat and changed the subject. “Now about that promise you made me.”

“What promise? Maybe you’d better remind me.”

Digger cursed silently. He should have known that Ed wouldn’t make things easy. “You promised me that if I got you word about your wife and kids, you’d tell me where you stashed that coke you hid before you got arrested.”

Ed laughed. “I guess I did. But you haven’t done enough to earn it yet. You need to find out more about Ruth and that Rankin bastard. If there’s a way to ruin him, I want to find out what it is. He’s got a record, too, you know.”

“Yes. The whole town knows that.” Digger had never told Ed about his part in the fight that led to Judd Rankin’s arrest. Now wouldn’t be the best time to tell the big man that Judd had saved him and gone to prison for it.

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