Page 4 of Tied to Trouble

“Smartass,” As replied. “So, what kind of talk?”

“People are conjuring up all sorts of crazy ideas about genetic testing and all that science fiction type mumbo jumbo.” He picked up his coffee cup and took a drink. “I think they’ve been watching too many horror movies, myself.”

Az leaned forward; his interest piqued. “That sounds right up my alley. I think I’ll do some investigating.”

The sheriff choked on his coffee and sputtered, “Now hold on there. You need to leave that to me, son. You’re still in school. It’s not that I don’t trust you; you’ve got good instincts, but I don’t want anyone getting hurt on my watch.”

“You know me better than that,” Az replied with a snort. “Besides, if I’m working with you for the summer, that makes me an employee...at least for now. And I have no intention of doing anything stupid.”

“Well, now that’s true,” admitted the sheriff grudgingly. “Except when it comes to women.” He shot Az a gleaming side eye. “Your brain’s a bit addled in that department.”

Az just eyed him with a disgusted grunt, refusing to be baited. “It’s summer break, and this rustling business is just the project I need to concentrate on.”

“Rustling is dangerous business; you sure you want to get involved?”

Az nodded. “I don’t think we’ve lost any yet at the Golden G. I’ll have to check with Hugh and Aaron, though.”

The Golden G was the Newcomb ranch just outside Mockingbird Hollow. Az’s great-grandfather and his immigrant wife from Sweden had built it in the late 1800s. His great-grandfather had been half Osage Indian. He had adopted the ways of his white mother’s family and had taken the Newcomb name. His great-grandmother’s name had been Golda, and the ranch was named after her. The Golden G.

Az hadn’t done the genealogy research, but his mother had. She was in her element when researching different cultures. The Osage Indians were reputed to be beautiful people, not only tall, but physically handsome, and had lived in southern Missouri. During a time in history when most men were under 6 feet, the fierce Osage warriors often grew as tall as 6’7”. They were feared by many of the other tribes.

The sheriff stood up. “Alright, you can poke around with me, but you need to let me do the talking.” He reached for a folder on top of the filing cabinet behind him. “In the meantime, you can look over this file. This is all the complaints and information I’ve collected so far.” He walked around and handed the file to Az. “You read. I’ll drive.”

“Where are we headed?” Az asked, taking the folder and following Evan out to his police truck.

“Genetico.”

Genetico—that was where this Sam Pickering worked.

Chapter 2

“Darn you, Az Newcomb,” Mandy muttered to herself as she sent the little red Ford Subaru pickup barreling along the dusty lane towards Genetico. She hadn’t been able to put their interrupted kiss out of her mind since he left, and it aggravated her to the utmost. It also confused her.

Az was just an older brother wannabe, nothing more. He had always been there for her. He’d helped her through high school, watched over her after graduation, threatened her dates, and generally made himself a nuisance while pursuing his degree in criminal justice. Then he’d finally gone off to Kansas City for an extended school for crime scene investigations and other special classes in law enforcement. He’d always wanted to be a police detective, just not a private detective. That was two years ago, and he’d rarely been back. Which was fine with her; she’d been in college herself. Eventually, she intended to take over the store from her grandmother.

Not that Az had needed to do much to protect her from the hot-blooded high school boys back in the day. Mandy had simply never been interested enough in any boy long enough for it to be worth the hassle. Besides, she knew every boy in town and all their parents, too. They were boringly familiar.

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