Page 37 of Daybreak

Gunner bolted out the front door, outpacing the horse’s angle of escape, and blocked the path, waving his arms high above his head to distract it.

The stallion reared up on his hind legs, then pawed the ground, but Gunner didn’t budge and kept waving him back.

It slowed the horse down long enough for two of the cowboys to get lassos over his head. The stallion snorted and tossed his head in disgust, but he was well and truly caught, and he knew it.

Garrett was out of breath when he got to the horse, but he was grinning at Gunner.

“You sure can run, boy. Thanks for the help. If he’d cleared the cattle guard, he’d be gone.”

“Beautiful stallion,” Gunner said, eyeing the big gray.

“I bought him from Sonny Bluejacket a couple of years back. He’s a beauty, but he has an attitude, for sure.”

“I guess he needed to kick up his heels a little,” Gunner said.

Garrett shook his head. “No, there’s a mare in heat in a nearby pasture, and he had love on his mind.”

Gunner laughed. “Ah, something we can all understand. I came to pay my respects to you and your family and was visiting with Holly when we saw the runaway. I am so sorry, Garrett…for everything.”

Garrett’s shoulders slumped. “Thanks, Gunner. It has been a shock for all of us. Will we see you at the services?”

“Yes, sir. Dad, Pearl, and I will be there. I have very fond memories of Mrs. Dillon when I was in school. The women of Crossroads all helped raise me and my brothers after everything fell apart, me especially because I was so young. I owe all of them a huge debt of gratitude.”

Garrett waved at Holly, who was standing on the porch. “I won’t keep you any longer, and I’m glad you came. Holly is struggling. She and Helen were very close.” Then he waved at his men. “Get that big fool back in the stables, and this time, don’t turn your back for a second,” he said, then followed behind them as they led the big gray away.

Gunner started walking back to the house, but his gaze was fixed on the woman waiting. The walls he’d lived behind were cracking from within.

Holly smiled as he came up the steps. “Way to go, Roadrunner. You’ve still got it.”

Gunner hadn’t heard his old high school nickname in years. “When the need arises,” he said, then reached out and cupped the side of her cheek. “You need to rest. Thank you for the invitation. I’ll see you at the funeral, okay?”

The urge to lay her head in the palm of his hand was so strong it made her ache. “Yes.”

“I’ll just get my hat,” he said and followed her back into the house, then settled it on his head. Holly’s hand was on his shoulder, but he still saw tears in her eyes.

“Thank you so much for coming,” she said. “Talking to you was a good reset. And getting to see that famous Kingston sprint wasn’t bad, either. I’ll walk you out.”

The last look Gunner had of her was in the rearview mirror. She was still on the porch, watching him driving away.

* * *

Gunner’s partner, Cliff Beale, was on his way home from work when he got a phone call. The name that came up on Caller ID made him sweat, but he wasn’t answering. Last night he and his wife had the worst fight of their fifteen years of marriage. She found out he’d been gambling again, and worse yet, discovered how much money he’d lost doing it. It was only after he got down on his knees, begging, and sobbing, and swearing on the lives of his children that he would never gamble again, that she finally gave in.

“One more time, and we’re gone. Do you understand me, Clifford Beale?”

It was still an echo in his ears. His family was his world. Gunner had warned him time and time again it was going to get him in trouble, with either his job or his wife. Gunner was right, but now he was gone. Cliff didn’t have anyone to talk to, and if he started going to some program for gambling addicts, Internal Affairs would find out. If they didn’t fire him, he would at least be put on suspension. He was as desperate as a man could be, and not answering that phone call from the bookie he owed was about to make everything worse.

* * *

It was a casual conversation between a cop and his uncle in the FBI that led to the special agents in charge of the Dixon case finding out about the deaths of Garza and Letourneau. They already had dossiers on both men from the evidence they had on Burgess Dixon and knew those men were part of his syndicate. After viewing records of the case, they couldn’t fault the conclusion of the crime scene, but from what they knew of Dixon, they also doubted the men had killed each other.

It was more likely they’d done something that displeased Dixon, like dumping the body of the witness in that old warehouse instead of hiding it, and this was the end result. It wasn’t anything they could prove, but it was info to add to the case against Dixon they still had on the back burner.

* * *

To Burgess Dixon’s knowledge, there was only one hit man who had yet to confirm he knew the bounty had been pulled, and Dixon was furious with the contractor who’d sent them out. The warning he unloaded on the contractor was quiet and deadly.

“I don’t care if you don’t know where he lived. You had contact numbers, damn it! So, leave messages, and you will keep calling until he verifies the message that it’s off, or I will make sure you never see the light of day again! Do you hear me?”