In truth, Dan had decided he must not have a type. Near as he could tell, any women he liked usually ran the other way. The first and the noisiest being his wife twenty years ago. When hed refused to move to Dallas, Margaret packed a bag and left him with their only child. Hed raised Lauren and kept loving his wife for a long while, hoping shed come back, but she only called monthly to lecture him on all the things he was doing wrong with his job, the town and most of all with raising their daughter.
It took him years to try even talking to a woman other than to ask for her drivers license. And then, none seemed right. Some never stopped talking; others expected him to carry the conversation.
Finally, when he decided to date a little, no woman felt right in his arms on the few occasions he managed to stay around long enough to hug her. Or, worse, she didnt seem that interested in him. At first hed thought it was because he was divorced and raising his daughter or because of the career he loved, but lately, there just didnt seem to be a woman in the state he wanted to go out with.
Dan got to the point of his current problem. I found the boot out on 111. Thought you might have seen someone wearing it.
Kimmie shook her head. I found a cowboy boot under my bed once. Worn and muddy. Never did remember who it belonged to.
Dan didnt want to hear more of the bartenders love life. If she ever got around to writing down just the facts shed been sober enough to remember, shed have a shelf full of steamy encounters. Since shed quit drinking, talking about sex had become her favorite pastime.
Wheres Ike?
He went over to check out that new bar. They call it the Nowhere Club like it was something fancy. What kind of name is that for a bar? Someone said they got a real singer over there. Can you imagine someone trying to sing to a bunch of drunks?
Dan picked up the blue boot. Maybe I will go check it out sometime.
Kimmie cleared his empty coffee cup and wiped down the bar. Ill keep my eye out for a woman hobbling around on one boot. If I spot her, Ill send her your way.
Thanks. Dan left thinking about what the owner of the boot must look like. Tall, hed guess, to wear this high a boot. And wild as the West Texas wind. His imagination filled in the rest of her through the night when he should have been sleeping.
* * *
MONDAY MORNING HE carried the boot into his office and set it on the corner of his desk, still thinking about what kind of woman would own it. It might be nice to meet her when he wasnt in uniform. Maybe, halfway through his life, it was about time he did something unpredictable.
All morning he worked on the paperwork that always piled up over the weekend like leftovers from Sunday dinner.
The blue boot kept crossing his line of vision as if whispering to him.
Pearly, the county secretary, came in a little after eleven with the mail. She spotted the boot. You thinking of cross-dressing, Sheriff?
Dan simply stared at her. Pearly hadnt asked a question worth answering in years.
I have to leave. He stood. Ill be back in an hour or so.
Might as well eat lunch while youre out, Sheriff. Pearly started planning his day. Its already almost lunchtime, and you know when you get back youll have calls to return, and by the time youre finished itll be too late to catch a lunch special. Next thing I know, Lauren will be home from Dallas complaining about how thin you look and telling me I should take better care of her father, like she left you in my charge.
And the point of this discussion, Pearly?
She puffed up. Eat! she shouted as if he needed to be addressed in single syllables.
Dan dug his fingers through hair in need of a cut and put on his Stetson. Thanks, Mom, Ill remember that. He grabbed the boot and walked past Pearly. Dan hated being mothered, but some women had that gene wired in them.
He was two miles out of town when he glanced at the boot and grinned. Where you want to go, babe? he asked as if a woman were beside him.
Funny. Something about the boot riding shotgun made Sheriff Dan Brigman feel reckless.
CHAPTER TWO
Noon
Monday
BRANDI MALONE WATCHED a sheriff walk into the Nowhere Club as she worked in the shadows of the small stage. The place wouldnt be open for hours. Shed planned to rehearse for a while, but now she couldnt do that until the sheriff left. Somehow having someone watch her work out the kinks in her performance seemed like singing to a voyeur.
She liked this time of day in the bar when all was quiet and the air felt almost clean.
Growing up in a big family was noisy, and living close to them as an adult always made her feel like she was being watched. Her two brothers and sisters families had settled within sight of the house they grew up in. But even when Brandi had moved back in her twenties, Malone Valley wasnt where shed wanted to be, and when shed left the second time, shed sworn, as she had once before, that shed never return.
The road had been her home for fourteen months. Brandi didnt have a house, an address, or anyone to report in to, and that was just fine with her.
Gig after gig on the road was her living room, and at night she stepped out onto her front porch, which was her stage. Brandi Malone was butterfly free and wanted it that way.
She stood perfectly still, no more than a shadow, and waited for the man in uniform to vanish from her world.
The sheriff disappeared down the hallway to the owners office. She wasnt curious. Her job was to be onstage for three sets a night. That was all. This was a bar; of course lawmen would drop by now and then. The sheriff was probably only checking the new liquor license, same as another sheriff did last week, or maybe he was looking for an outlaw, though this place didnt seem much like an outlaw bar.
She moved the mic closer to the piano, where shed lined up her songs for tonight. Though she knew them all by heart, she always kept the sheet music close, just in case her mind wandered.
Brandi didnt worry about much, not where she lived or what she ate, or even what town she was in, but she wanted every performance to be perfect. It had to be. It was all she had left that mattered in her world.
Maybe she wanted, if only for a few minutes, for all those who were sober enough to listen, to forget about their problems and just enjoy. She wanted them to step into the music and dance on the sawdust floor or in their minds. Thats what she did. For a few hours, if her songs were just right, she forgot all about the cavernous hole in her heart and swayed to the music. Her thoughts would slow to match the beat those nights, and for a short time shed drift. Shed breathe deeply and almost believe life was worth living.
Brandi! Hank, the owner, yelled. Sheriffs got something for you.
The tall man in a tan uniform moved toward her, and for a moment she considered running. But he was between her and the door, and the guys face, framed in the shadows of his hat, looked like he operated strictly by the book.
She had no outstanding bills or fines or tickets. She hadnt committed a crime. There was no reason the law wanted her, so the sheriff must have questions about the bar, or maybe her old van parked outside...
Brandi stood and waited as the sheriff neared. She was stronger than shed been months ago. She didnt have to run from questions.
When shed first hit the road, she hated strangers asking where she was from or anything about her family. She didnt want to talk about anything but her music. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed.
Only, when this stranger in a uniform raised his eyes to look up at her standing on the small stage, he smiled as if he was happy to see her. Morning, maam, he said.
She didnt miss that the lawmans eyes ran the length of her body before he reached her face. Could he have been checking her out? Surely not. Not if he called her maam.
Morning, she managed to say. Whats the problem?
No problem.
He smiled again, and she had the feeling that he was a man who didnt smile often. Brandi relaxed slightly. He had honest blue eyes.
This wouldnt happen to be yours? he asked as he lifted a boot. It kind of looks like something you might wear.
Brandi exploded. Yes! Someone stole them out of my van two weeks ago. In their hurry, they dropped the left one in the parking lot. She bounced down from the two-foot-high stage. I loved those boots. I thought Id lost this one forever, but I couldnt bring myself to toss the other one away.
The sheriff stood as stiff as a mannequin while she hugged him.
Thank you. Thank you. She reached for the boot.
He pulled it away. Now wait a minute. I have to have proof. He was smiling again, obviously enjoying himself. Maybe you need to try it on. The slipper needs to fit. I think its the law, or maybe just a rule.
She looked down at the tennis shoes she was wearing. I have to have that boot. I own the match. One boots no good without its mate.
Ill need to see the left one first before I hand this one over.
Follow me. She shifted and straightened as if planning to march, playing along with his game.
Her long legs made it easy to make the step onto the stage. She rushed behind a black curtain and opened an almost invisible door. She hoped the sheriff carrying her boot was following her. Guessing that he was watching her every twist, she slipped quickly into a narrow hallway, then left toward her dressing room.
He was right behind her.
The sheriff was in his forties, maybe five or six years older than her, and definitely interesting. Shed always liked talking to men with honest eyes. They were rare.
Brandi grinned as she tried to guess what the sheriff might be like out of uniform. He was that kind of handsome most women didnt notice. There was something so solid about him he seemed hard, except maybe for his mouth. The man had kissable lips, she decided, but shed bet hed never had an irresponsible thought.
And he wasnt for her. Forget that attracted at first sight thing. She no longer acted on impulses. Brandi had not only sworn off men, shed sworn off family and friends, as well. For months she had simply drifted in the emptiness and the music, telling herself there was no future or past, just now. If she worked hard on just getting through one day at a time, she could survive and almost forget that her reason for living had gone.
Fourteen months and counting. Now wasnt the time to break her streak even to make one friend or take a lover. The very thought of having a lover after all these years made her smile. If she ever did take another lover, he would have blue eyes like the sheriffs. True blue.
She opened the door to a small room that doubled as her dressing room and the paper storage for the bar and bathrooms.
The sheriff followed her in.
Leave the door open, she ordered.
Of course, he answered, as if it were a rule he already knew.
He seemed to take up half the space in her small quarters as she tossed clothes around looking for the other boot.
Im not very organized, she admitted.
Ive seen squirrels better at it. He crossed his arms and waited.
The boot is here somewhere. She was loaded down with clothes and still saw no sign of it. Maybe it would be easier to try on the one you have. She plopped down on the rooms only chair and tugged off her tennis shoe. The leggings she wore were warm and fit like second skin. If it fits, I get to keep it, right?
To her shock, he knelt on one knee and helped her with the boot. His hand slid along her calf as he pushed her foot gently into the leather.
Brandi couldnt move. His hand glided ahead of the boot until his fingers rested just above her knee. She could feel the warmth of him through the material as he pressed gently into her flesh as if he was testing to see if she were real.
It fits perfect, he said. I guess Ive found Cinderella.
Thanks for bringing it back. Im really grateful, Sheriff.
Youre more than welcome. Just part of the job. He stood and offered his hand. Dan Brigman.
She took his hand and stood, noticing he was only a few inches taller than her as she balanced on the one boot. Can I buy you a drink, Sheriff, to say thank you?
No, thanks.
He hadnt turned loose of her fingers, and she wondered if she should ask for her hand back. When she looked down, she spotted the blue toe of her other blue cowboy boot and squealed as she jerked her hand away from him. She dropped to the floor so she could crawl under the card table that served as her dressing table.
He tried to step out of the way, but her bottom bumped into him several times before she backed out from under the flimsy table. Then she hopped around trying to tug on the second boot while accidentally bumping into him again.
He gripped her waist and steadied her as she finally got the boot on.
When she straightened, he let go of her, but one hand rose to brush her hair from her face.
You have a mass of long hair, pretty lady. It seems to fly around you like a midnight cloud. Ive got a daughter who has hair as long as yours, but hers is straight and the color of sunshine.
Sorry. She shook her head back. My hairs always had a mind of its own. I not only kicked you while I was trying to pull on the boot, you probably got a mouthful of curls.
Ill survive. He laughed.
Sure you wont take that drink? I feel like I owe you one, Sheriff.
No, but I might let you buy me lunch. The best Mexican food place for a hundred miles around is right across the street.
Brandi wasnt looking to be picked up, and she couldnt tell if the sheriff was trying to start something. If so, he was so far out of practice with this switch from a drink to lunch thing. She needed to cut this off quick. Wouldnt you rather go home and have lunch with your family? The last thing she needed was to get involved with a married man.
He hesitated but didnt back away like a man whod been trying to flirt might. My wife left me twenty years ago, and my daughter is grown and now lives in Dallas. If you dont want to come along, Im still planning on eating Mexican food. Pearly, my secretary, told me to eat lunch before I came back, and shes not an easy woman to cross.
Brandi felt like a fool. The sheriff wasnt using a line on her. If he thought he was, it came pretty close to the worst one shed ever heard. Hed given her the facts of his life as small-town people did. As people who have nothing to hide did.