Page 49 of The Cowboy Comes Home

“Thanks to Lily,” she said, her smile widening. And she realized that might be the best approach. “I read her article on Tucker Culhane. It was amazing. I had no idea about a lot of it. Like that Jackson risked damaging his own career by insisting Tucker be his only stand-in.”

“Says a lot about Jackson. And their friendship.”

“The part about his father,” she began, then hesitated, not sure how to phrase her question. Then the chief saved her the trouble.

“That was tough,” he said. “I remember my father talking about it, back when it happened.” She hadn’t really thought about that, that Steven Highwater would have been chief back then. “He was always very aware whenever a cop went down, especially a Texas cop, and he had everybody wear the black bands.”

She knew he meant the black bands that were slipped over badges as a sign of mourning. Something she fortunately hadn’t had to deal with since she’d come on the job. For a moment she was distracted by thinking of the times when this man had risked himself for others, when the Last Stand officers could have been wearing that grim black band for him. But she knew, because she had been told early on, that the chief didn’t like talking about that, so she brought her focus back to what she wanted to know.

“Do you remember anything more about how it happened?” Lily’s article had only said he had died of gunshot wounds incurred in the line of duty.

Chief Highwater gave her a suddenly more intense look before saying, “If I’m remembering right, it was a raid on a drug lab. He was backing up the detectives, ended up taking down the main dealer, but took a lethal round in the process. Now, you want to tell me why all the interest? Other than my wife’s brilliant writing?”

She smiled, although she felt a little uncomfortable. And as was always the best course with this man, she went with honesty. “Tucker and I were watching out for Jeremy and the dogs playing upstream,” she said, with a gesture in that direction. “And we talked about the profile a little.” She hesitated again, then dove in. “He’s apparently spent all these years since wondering if his mother’s situation had distracted him enough that…”

“He made a mistake, and that got him killed?” The chief grimaced. He studied her for a long moment before saying, “I can’t say it’s not possible.”

She drew in a long breath. “It’s such a mess. The way his father died, and then his mother completely lost it until he had to cut her out of his life, or she’d drag him down with her. And now he feels guilty about that, thinks if he’d just taken that last phone call from her…”

She saw by the chief’s expression she didn’t have to go on. She couldn’t anyway, because she would never betray that one thing he’d told her that he’d said he never told anyone. That he’d felt he had nothing to lose so if he got killed rodeoing so be it. That sometimes he’d even wished for it.

He hadn’t sounded as if he still felt that way, but she hadn’t been able to get it out of her mind.

“If he’s come through all that to where he is now, he’s a stronger man than I’m guessing he thinks he is,” the chief said finally. “And from what Jackson’s told me, he’s a good man.”

He put a little more emphasis on those last two words than the rest, and Emily wondered if that was aimed at her.

If somehow she’d revealed that Tucker Culhane had her thinking all kinds of crazy things.

Chapter Twenty-Four

…you look ather like I’ve never seen you look at another woman. Ever.

Jackson’s words played through Tucker’s mind like a recording on an endless loop. At least, until Splatter bopped him on the shoulder with his head, hard enough to knock him off-balance.

It took a quick step back for him to stay on his feet. He growled at the horse, who looked annoyingly pleased with himself, “We’re definitely gonna need a new name for you, soon.”

Shortly after Tucker had met the horse Jackson had said it should be Jackass, only half joking. Tucker had zinged him back saying people might get them confused, both starting with Jack. Thankfully Jackson’s sense of humor was even better these days, thanks to Nic.

The pinto snorted and tossed his head as he swung his hindquarters around so he could face the half-open stall door, warning Tucker someone was coming. He wasn’t surprised when the very person he’d been thinking about appeared.

“Think we’d better let him out, crowd or not?” Jackson asked.

Tucker looked at the animal. One of the main parts of the strategy with the beast was to make sure he got tired out every day. But today that was a problem, since they usually let him out into the main corral to blow off steam before they tried to deal with him, and neither of them was sure that was wise with a lot of people clustered about.

“Why don’t I go out in the corral with him, and run interference?” Tucker suggested.

“As long as you’re not going to ride him. We’d have every guest on the property clustering around to watch.”

“Not like he’s a bull,” Tucker protested.

“You underestimate your reputation, my friend.”

Tucker laughed. “Look who’s talking.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and stepped back as Tucker led Splatter out of the stall. They walked down to the far end of the barn, where the sliding door opened into the main corral. Jackson looked first to be sure no one was actually inside the corral, then nodded.

“Cut him loose. And if we need help bringing him back in, I hear the police chief is a pretty good rope man.”

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