Stella Bagwell - Her Texas Ranger

“So here you are.”

At the sound of Marina’s voice, Seth turned to see the heavyset cook step from the doorway and onto the wooden planked porch. The Mexican woman had worked for the Ketchum family for forty or more years and was considered more of a family member than an employee. Ross kept her wrapped around his little finger, but she always seemed overjoyed to see Seth, whenever he did make a rare trip up here to the ranch.

“Did you need me for something, Marina?”

She grinned at him as though just looking at him made her happy and he felt a pang of guilt for not keeping in closer touch with his family.

“I just make a fresh pot of coffee,” she said. “You like some?”

Nearly an hour had passed since Seth had eaten breakfast. He supposed he could use a little more caffeine and it would give him an opportunity to throw a few questions at Marina.

He followed the old cook through the large, rambling house, to the back where the kitchen was located. The room was warm, the breakfast mess already cleaned away from the long pine table, but the smell of fried bacon still lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of freshly brewed coffee. From atop the refrigerator, a small radio was playing country music and reporting tidbits of local news.

Aside from a few updated appliances, the room was the same as it had been when he’d been a child. Except that his mother wasn’t hovering behind his chair, ruffling his hair and reminding him to eat his oats.

His parents had been dead for some years now, along with his brother, Hugh. His brother had been the first to go—six years ago, he’d been gored to death by one of the ranch’s bulls. A year later, his mother had passed away from the lingering complications of a stroke, then a little more than a year ago, his father had died from heart failure. A big part of his family was gone now.

Shoving away the bittersweet memories, he caught Marina’s attention and patted the seat kitty-corner to his left. “Pour yourself a cup, too, Marina, and come sit here beside me.”

Marina eyed him with curious black eyes as she lifted the tail of her white apron and wiped her hands.

“I don’t need to sit. I got work to do.”

“You’re going to sit. This place won’t fall apart if you rest for a few minutes.”

Mumbling under her breath, she poured the coffee, then carried the two mugs over to the table.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as she eased down in the chair. “Don’t you want to visit with me?”

She pushed one of the coffee mugs toward him. “You don’t want to visit. You want to ask me questions. About the murder.”

A low chuckle rumbled up from his chest. “How do you know that? I haven’t said anything yet.”

She frowned. “I see the look on your face. I know you, Seth Ketchum. You might as well pin that badge of yours on your chest.”

He touched his hand to the left of his chest just above his shirt pocket. It wasn’t very often that he went without his Ranger badge. But he was basically on vacation now and as he’d told Victoria, he didn’t want to step on any toes up here in New Mexico.

“I’m not going to ask you about the murder, Marina. You couldn’t know anything about it anyway.”

Her frown deepened as though she wasn’t sure if he’d just insulted her. “Well then—what we gonna talk about? You?”

Seth chuckled again. “No. You already know all there is to know about me.” He lifted the mug to his lips, took a careful sip and lowered it back to the tabletop. “How’s your memory, Marina?”

She grinned and relaxed against the back of the wooden chair. “I remember you got a little brown birth-mark on your hip.”

“You don’t have to go that far back,” he said dryly. “Just back to the time when Noah Rider was foreman here on the T Bar K.”

“I can do that. What you want to know about him?”

Seth shook his head. “Not him. I want you to try to remember anyone and everyone that Dad had feuds with back at that time.”

“Oh, Lord,” she groaned. “Looks like we’re gonna be here a while.”

Later that afternoon, Seth stared at the list he and Marina had compiled. He wasn’t sure why he felt that his father was somehow connected to the murder. It wasn’t that he thought Tucker capable of killing anyone, even in the heat of one of his rages. And anyway, Tucker was dead, he couldn’t have killed Noah. But Tucker and Noah had been close. The foreman had always backed Tucker in anything and everything. The two of them together might have angered someone so badly they’d sworn revenge. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense. Especially since no one had attempted to kill Tucker. But then as far as Seth was concerned, homicide never made any sense.

Fifteen names were on the list. Yet there was only one that generated much of his interest. Rube Dawson. From what Ross had told him at lunch, Rube was still a neighbor. And as far as Ross was concerned, the old man was the last person to be involved in Noah’s death. But it was far too early for Seth to exclude anyone from the list. Especially when he remembered very well that Tucker and Rube had once had a big squabble over the ownership of a racehorse.

Stuffing the list in his pocket, he went out to the kitchen and told Marina he’d be gone for a while. Outside, he climbed in his black pickup truck and headed off the T Bar K. When he reached the point where the ranch road branched with the main county road, he turned to the right in the direction of Rube Dawson’s place.

Twenty minutes later, he pulled onto a red dirt road, rumbled across a cattle guard, then drove a quarter mile through foothills dotted with green juniper and piñon pine.

When the Dawson homestead finally came into view, Seth was taken aback. Even though it had been many years since he’d visited the place with his father, he’d not imagined it would look like this. True, the Dawsons had always been on the poor side, but the present state of the place went beyond the lack of money. The small, stucco house was badly in need of paint and shingles. The barns and outbuildings were also in sad neglect with sagging roofs, missing boards and flaking paint. Fences were leaning and in some spots completely resting on the ground.

Apparently Rube wasn’t lifting a finger around here, Seth thought with disgust as he parked his truck next to a dark, older-model sedan and an even older Dodge pickup truck with rusted fenders.

The moment he stepped to the ground, he was met by a white dog that appeared to be part border collie. The wag of his tail assured Seth the dog was friendly and he paused on the path to the house long enough to bend and greet the animal.

“Don’t worry, mister, Cotton won’t bite.”

Seth glanced up to see a young boy somewhere between ten and twelve years old standing on the small front porch. Blue jeans and a baggy T-shirt covered his painfully thin body. Thick blond hair tickled his eyebrows and he swiped at it with an impatient hand as he carefully watched Seth’s every move.

Leaving the dog, Seth walked over to the porch, noticing all the while that there was no yard to speak of around the house, just a few clumps of sage and hard-packed red earth.

“Hello,” he said to the boy. “Does Rube Dawson still live here?”

The boy nodded as his blue eyes narrowed with wary speculation. “Sure does. He’s my grandpa. I call him Pa.”

The news jolted Seth. Rube only had one child and that was Corrina. This was Corrina’s child! But that shouldn’t surprise him, he quickly rationalized. Years had passed since he’d left San Juan County. More than enough time for her to marry and have a son of this age.

“Do you think I might talk to him?” Seth asked.

The boy swiped once again at the corn-colored hair pestering his eyes. He needed a haircut, Seth decided, and a few good meals to put some meat on his bones.

“What’cha wanta talk to him about?”

“Matt! That isn’t any way to greet a visitor!”

Seth recognized the female voice even before she stepped from behind the screen door and onto the porch. It was Corrina. And for a moment he couldn’t speak or think of one sensible thing to say. After all these years he’d never expected to see her again and now that she was standing before him, he was suddenly flooded with memories of more innocent, simpler times.

“Hello, Seth,” she said in a low, warm voice.

Vivid blue eyes stared back at him and he got the impression that she was just as surprised to see him as he’d been to find her here on this broken-down ranch.

Stepping up on the porch, he offered her his hand. “Hello, Corrina. How are you?”

He could sense her hesitation, then finally she reached up and slipped her hand into his. The contact was brief, but long enough to feel her work-roughed palm.

Her eyes darted down and away from him as her fingers reached up to the tangle of chestnut curls brushing her shoulders. “I’m…fine, Seth. Just fine.”

She looked back at him and Seth watched with bemusement as faint pink color swept across her cheeks. If finding him on the doorstep was embarrassing to her, he couldn’t imagine why. He’d not seen her in twenty years and even then the two of them had been little more than acquaintances who’d sometimes talked with each other at school. There was no way she could have ever known that he’d had a crush on her. Because he’d not told anyone about it. Especially not her.

Seth smiled, hoping to ease the tension he could see in her slender body. “That’s good. I’m…surprised to see you here.”

She let out a nervous little laugh, glanced at the boy, then back to Seth again. “Probably not as surprised as I am to see you.” She rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans. “Uh—what are you doing here?”

He cleared his throat as he felt Corrina’s son watching him closely. “I wanted to talk to Rube. I thought he might be able to give me some…help.”

“Help?” Corrina repeated blankly.

She was just as pretty as he remembered, Seth thought. Maybe even prettier now that the years had matured her into a woman. Her skin was milky white, making her blue eyes even more vibrant. The riot of curls teasing her shoulders was thick and unruly, their color consisting of myriad shades varying from cinnamon to ginger. A few errant strands clung to her high cheekbone and he watched her brush them away with the same impatient gesture as her son’s.

“Yeah,” he answered. “I guess you’ve heard about all the trouble over at the T Bar K?”

She nodded and he found himself looking at her lips—full and soft, their mauve color dark against her white teeth. Did she have a husband? he wondered. There was no ring on her hand. But that didn’t mean some man hadn’t put his brand on her in another way. Matt was proof of that.

“Yes,” she answered. “It’s pretty much been the talk of the county. I’m sorry, Seth. I’m sure the whole thing has been hard on your family.”

Matt came to stand beside his mother. “How can Pa help you?”

Corrina put her arm around her son’s slender shoulders. “Seth, this is my son, Matthew. We don’t have much company out here, so you’ll have to forgive his manners.”

We don’t have much company. Did she and Matthew live here? he wondered.

Seth momentarily pushed the question out of his mind and offered his hand to the sullen child. “Hello, Matthew. I’m Seth Ketchum.”

Matthew was clearly pleased to be greeted as an adult rather than a child, but there was still a suspicious look in his eyes as he shook hands with Seth.

“Are you one of those rich Ketchums that live next to us?”