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Another night of physical intimacy was just beginning as I stood and hoisted him over my shoulder, carting him back to the house while he let out a whoop and continued singing, finally bringing the song to a close when I set him down in my bedroom and sealed my mouth over his.
Nearly a week later, I’d just woken up to Richard’s mouth around my cock when a knock sounded at the front door. Birdie, guard dog extraordinaire, barely lifted her head from her dog bed in the corner to give a half-hearted bark. She was still sulking over being kicked off our bed for the early morning fornications. Richard had somehow gotten me to agree to allowing her to sleep with us at night, but I drew the line at her being on the bed during sexy times.
When the knock sounded again, I met Richard’s eyes and cursed under my breath. If I wasn’t mistaken, this was one of the days Norma took off early to hit the vegetable market a few towns over, which meant there was no one else to answer the door.
“We’ll continue this later,” I promised, pressing a kiss to Richard’s glistening lips before slipping out of bed. I tugged on jeans and swiped a hand through my hair as I grabbed a white T-shirt. I was just pulling it over my head when I opened the door to find Sheriff Chisolm waiting on my front porch.
He was a few years older than me, but spending time behind a desk instead of running cattle had turned him a little soft. Despite the slight belly he now carried, the man retained an aura of authority exacerbated by the scowl of concern clear on his face this morning.
“Mornin’, Boone.” He touched his fingers to his hat in greeting. “Hope it’s not too early. I figured you’d be up, given that it’s calving season and everything. I didn’t catch you at a bad time, did I?”
His eyes flicked curiously over my shoulder and widened slightly. I had a pretty good idea of what he was looking at. As if to confirm my suspicions, Richard appeared, wearing the ridiculous bright red floral robe he swore was his “final remaining connection with Tom Ford.” Whatever that meant.
The sheriff looked at him. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
I stepped aside, pulling Richard next to me. “Richard, this is Sheriff Chisolm. Sheriff, this is Richard. He’s one of my new hands this season and an all-around good man.”
Chisolm took him in with a twitch of his mustache. “Interesting.”
Richard laughed, baring his long, smooth throat. “Oh honey, you don’t know the half of it.” He placed a hand on my arm. “I’ll go make coffee for the two of you. Sheriff—how do you take yours?”
“Milk and sugar, thanks.”
Richard grinned, giving the sheriff a wink as he ran a hand down his side. “I should have known you’d be a fan of sweet and tan.” He turned and sashayed to the kitchen.
I tried to cover my laughter with a cough, figuring Chisolm might not appreciate it too much. I gestured to the rocking chairs on the porch. “To what do I owe the visit, Sheriff?”
Chisolm sat, pulling a large envelope out of his back pocket and holding it out to me. “I’m awfully sorry about this, Boone, but I have to serve you these papers.”
He sat back while I opened the envelope and pulled out a thick sheaf of documents. I cursed under my breath when I realized what it was: a legal complaint filed by Walt Hosser. He was claiming all sorts of damages for the poisoning of one of his ponds, leading to the death of some of his best breeding stock.
My eyes bulged when I saw the amount he was asking for was well into the seven figures. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” I shook my head, already feeling the muscles along my shoulders knotting with tension. “You know this is bullshit, right?”
The sheriff spread his hands wide. “He claims he has evidence.”
“He’s got crap,” I spat. “We both know he’s been after me since the day I bought this land. This is just another way to get back at me.”
Chisolm shrugged. “He’s got a bunch of dead cattle. I’ve seen them with my own eyes.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I’d just assumed Walt had been making it all up. “And they were poisoned?”
The sheriff nodded. “That’s what the vet says.”
I cursed under my breath, running a hand through my hair. “Jesus fucking Christ. Is that man crazy enough to poison his own damn cattle just to make a point?”
He shrugged again. “I guess that’s for the court to figure out.” It was obvious the sheriff didn’t want to pick a side in this one, and I understood why. His family went back generations in this area, as did Walt’s. I was the interloper, and while I had a reputation for being fair and honest, I was still the new kid on the block—if you could call seventeen years “new”—which made me an outsider.
