"The hell you are. If Cy really took that money, there might be trouble. If there is, I don't want you anywhere near."
"What are you talking about? I found Rae Ann, didn't I? If she's going, then I'm going."
"No way. You're staying here where it's safe. I won't be long. Stay out of trouble until I get back."
Patience opened her mouth to argue, then clamped down on whatever she planned to say. She didn't like taking orders and especially not from him. She didn't say anything more, but her face was red and he could see blood in her eye. Dallas ignored her. He wanted her here, where nothing bad could happen. He'd smooth her ruffled feathers later.
Leaving the production trailer, they made their way over to Cy's camper. By now, the rodeo was over. Cy had washed off his face paint by the time the deputy approached with Dallas and Charlie but still wore his red-striped shirt, knee-length red leather chaps, and cleated running shoes. Santiago stood protectively next to Rae Ann Bonner and seeing him, Cy paused in the act of stashing his gear behind the front seat of his truck. His gaze went from Dallas and Charlie to the armed, uniformed officer.
"What's up?"
"The entry fee money was stolen tonight," Charlie told him, "sometime during the performance. A witness put you at the scene."
"Me!" Cy looked thunderstruck. "What are you talking about? I was busy working the show."
"Not all the time," the deputy said. "Isn't that right, Mr. Carson?"
Charlie looked apologetic. "The clowns are in the arena off and on but they're behind the chutes during the events-all except the bull-riding, of course."
"I didn't steal any money. Come on, Charlie-you know me better than that."
"Is that the man?" the deputy asked Rae Ann.
"I-I don't know. I told you he had his clown makeup on."
"Did you happen to notice what he was wearing?"
"I remember the red-striped shirt. But I couldn't say what else."
"Maybe it was Reese," Cy said. "He's a clown. He had the same opportunity I had."
"The lady says the clown she saw coming out of the trailer wore the same face paint as you-a smiling face, not a frown. According to Mr. Carson, her description doesn't fit the other clown."
Cy looked stricken. "I didn't do it, Charlie. I swear it."
"Do you mind if we take a look inside your camper?" the deputy asked.
Cy shook his head. "No, go ahead."
Santiago opened the camper door and went in. He came back out a few minutes later. "I didn't see anything. If he took the box, it's not here."
"I didn't take the goddamn box or anything else."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Jennings. It looks like you'll have to come down to the station. There are a few more questions I need to-"
"Hold on a minute," Charlie said. "I've changed my mind. I've decided not to press charges."
Cy's whole body seemed to sag with relief. The deputy looked uncertain, but knowing Charlie as he did, Dallas wasn't all that surprised.
"Are you sure that's what you want to do, Mr. Carson?"
"I don't believe Cy Jennings stole that money. I've known the man for years and if he says he didn't do it, then I believe him. Besides, I've had other problems lately. I got a hunch this is just one more."
Dallas had to agree. Someone wanted to cause trouble for Charlie and it was highly unlikely the man was Cy Jennings.
"If anything turns up, we'll be in touch," Dallas said. "Thanks for your time, Deputy Santiago."
"No problem." He turned to Rae Ann Bonner. "I've got your phone number. If we need you again, we'll be in touch."
Rae Ann nodded and left with the deputy, heading back to her pickup and horse trailer.
As soon as the pair was gone, Cy turned to Charlie. "I didn't steal that money, Charlie. I hope you believe that."
"If I didn't, I would have let him cart you off to jail."
"Keep your eyes open, will you, Cy?" Dallas put in. "Somebody stole that money and whoever it was, tried to lay the blame on you."
"I'll keep my eyes open," Cy said darkly. "You can count on that."
Dallas clapped him on the shoulder. "Thanks." He and Charlie walked away from the camper, only to come up on Patience, who stood in the shadows just a few feet away. Recognizing the hard glint that appeared in Dallas's eyes, Charlie gave him a wave and kept on walking.
"What happened?" Patience asked.
"I told you to stay away from here, dammit."
"Well, you're not my boss, Dallas Kingman-in case you didn't know-and I was worried. Tell me what happened."
Reining in his temper, Dallas lifted his hat and raked back his hair, then settled his hat back over his forehead. "Charlie doesn't think Cy stole the money and neither do I."
"But Rae Ann Bonner said-"
"We think someone was trying to frame him."
"Like who?"
"Probably the same guy who rigged the hitch on the livestock truck."
Patience seemed to ponder that. "That makes sense. Although it could have been one of the locals. Or a competitor who figured out where the money was being kept and decided he could use it more than Charlie."
"Maybe."
"But you don't think so."
"The guy dressed up to look like Cy. He had to know the business and he had to have this pretty well planned out."
"True." They walked together back toward their trailers. "There's another possibility, you know."
"Yeah? What's that?"
"It's hard to keep secrets around here. A lot of people know that livestock trailer didn't turn over by accident. Shari says they're saying Charlie's troubles might be more than coincidence."
"So?"
"So maybe whoever stole the money was just jumping on the bandwagon-taking the cash, laying the blame on Cy, and making Charlie think it was the same guy who sabotaged his truck."
Dallas tossed her a long, discerning glance. "That's not bad. Sometimes you're even smarter than you look."
Patience smiled. "So you think I might be right?"
"It's possible. Definitely possible." And if that was the case, Dallas had a good idea where to start looking. The same place his instincts had led him the moment he had heard about the theft.
Junior Reese.
Reese would have known how to copy Cy's makeup and owned very similar clothes. And he hated Charlie with a passion.
The big question was, if Junior was guilty, how the hell were they going to prove it?
CHAPTER 18.
The sun was well up, beginning to heat the inside of the trailer. According to her father, Tyler was still in Boston so she could stop worrying. Patience finished working on the next-to-last section of her thesis and leaned back in the padded vinyl booth.
The paper was basically done. Next to it, the journal beckoned. She hadn't tuned in to her grandmother's adventures in over two weeks, not since her digging had lead to the discovery of what she believed to be Lucky Sims's murder.
She had skimmed the pages, of course, looking for more information, but Addie had rarely mentioned Lucky again, except to say how much she missed her. And she never found out what had happened to her friend.
Patience cracked open the faded tapestry covers of the book, savoring the connection to a long-dead relative she admired. The month was September. Addie's life was changing now, heading in a new direction, her words filled with the first glow of love.
Sam Starling. Patience turned the pages, saw the name again and again.
Sam and I went to a moving picture show. It was called The Lonely Villa and my favorite actress, Mary Pickford, was the star. We had the most wonderful time.
Sam took me to supper at this funny little restaurant, the Cat's Paw Inn. A man was strumming the guitar while we ate, and afterward, Sam went up and borrowed it for a while. He can really play that guitar.
Patience smiled as she submerged herself once more in Addie Holmes's journey.
Me and Sam took the train together, all the way to Dodge City, Kansas. I should have gone with Betsy and Star. They were leaving with the rest of the gals the next day, but Sam was so darned persistent that I finally said yes. We left a day early just so Sam could ride in a rodeo in Abilene. He won first prize money and bought me a fancy yellow satin western shirt I saw in the mercantile window. I worried a little that if I went alone with him on the train, Sam might get the wrong idea, but he was a perfect gentleman.
I wonder what Lucky would have said if she knew I was falling head over heels in love with him.
The mention of Lucky Sims's name turned Patience's thoughts away from Addie and Sam back to Lucille Sims's disappearance. Had the girl really been murdered? And if she were, was the man who had been following the rodeos the man who had killed her?
Dallas had mentioned the possibility of other rodeo-related murders that might have occurred at the time. More than ninety years ago, information wasn't as accessible, wasn't traded the way it was today. It certainly could have happened.
And it didn't seem right just to let the matter slide. The first chance Patience had, she would do a little research, see what she could turn up. For years, she'd been studying the cowgirls of early rodeo. Her sources were extensive-in print, over the Net, and through contacts she had made during the course of her work. Perhaps she could find out if any other unexplained deaths in the rodeo community had been reported during, say, the ten-year period following Lucille's death.
She would begin by calling Constance Foster in the historical section of the Cowgirl Hall of Fame in Fort Worth, Texas. She had worked with Connie before. She could also phone Mabel Thompson at the 101 Ranch Museum in Oklahoma. For decades, the 101 was one of the biggest Wild West Shows in the country and Patience had worked a lot with Mabel.
If she got lucky, maybe someone would come up with something. At the very least, they could help her put together a list of towns where rodeos were performed during those years. Perhaps she could get someone in each town to check the police blotter in the local paper of the day, see what might have been reported.
Patience leaned back against the seat of the dinette, feeling a tug of excitement at the prospect of exploring a ninety-year-old mystery.
The journal sat open on the table.
Patience smiled as she returned her attention to the pages, eager to continue reading the virtues of Sam Starling, cowboy extraordinaire-who was stealing her grandmother's heart.
She didn't notice the time, engrossed as she was in the journal. It was perhaps an hour later that a soft knock sounded at the door. Patience set the journal aside, got up, and went over to open it. She was only a little surprised to see Stormy Weathers, hat in hand, standing at the bottom of the stairs.
"Hi, P.J. I was hoping you'd still be here."
"Hi, Stormy. Come on in. Excuse the mess. I've got papers strewn all over the place." Hurriedly, Patience began picking up her research files, moving the journal out of the way, and shutting down her computer.
"I didn't mean to get in the middle of your work." By now, nearly everyone knew Patience was working on her thesis. Surprisingly, most of them thought it was kind of cool.
"You're not getting in the middle of anything. Sit down. I was just about to quit work anyway." Stormy folded his lanky frame into the seat of the dinette and Patience walked over to the stove of the tiny kitchen. "You want a cup of coffee or something?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
Patience poured herself a fresh cup, then sat down in the dinette across from him. "I kind of figured you might show up here, sooner or later."
"Yeah, well, I was kind of hoping...you know...that you might be able to help."
Patience took a sip of her coffee. It tasted bitter now from sitting on the stove for so long. "Shari told me you asked her to marry you. I presume that's why you're here."
Stormy tossed his hat up behind the seat. His sandy hair looked disheveled, as if he had run his fingers through it. There were faint purple smudges beneath his hazel eyes. "So what do you think?"
Patience answered carefully. She loved Stormy like a brother. She could see the pain etched into his features and her heart ached for him. "To begin with, I know Shari loves you and I know that you love her. It's just...well, it's just that she has plans for the future that don't include getting married. Maybe in time that will change but right now-"
"So you're telling me that loving each other isn't enough. I always thought it would be."
"Shari wants to go back to school. She wants a different sort of life than you want, Stormy. Maybe after she gets her degree-"
"I love her, Patience. I want to marry her."
"You're a cowboy, Stormy. You love rodeo. Shari says that's all you've ever wanted to do."
"So what? A lot of cowboys get married. They have a home, a couple of kids. My friend Pete Mathers-"
"Your friend Pete Mathers represents everything Shari doesn't want." Patience reached over and caught his hand, felt the tension running through him. "Give her time to do what she needs to, Stormy. If you're still interested after that, maybe the two of you can work something out."
But it was about as likely as working something out with Dallas. It wasn't going to happen. At least she and Dallas knew it.
"So that's it, then? Nothing I say is going to change her mind?"