Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mark did his best to investigate why Biggs would spread false rumors about Val canceling her rodeo gigs, but he unfortunately came up empty. Val texted him once she did her part by filing an Order of Protection there in Montana. While it didn’t extend to the other states she’d be traveling to, the fact that she’d requested it helped her case should Biggs ever show up where he wasn’t wanted.
Over the rest of the month, she had no further issues, and he knew this because he and Val had begun to communicate off and on. Sometimes by text and sometimes over the phone, they began by sharing short discussions, but those grew into much lengthier talks. At first, they spoke about their concerns around Biggs, but almost like clockwork, their conversations became more casual. Lighter.
“Tell me more about Rocky Ridge,” she inquired of him one Thursday evening after a long day. The temps had climbed into the nineties that afternoon. It was hard to believe that it was nearly June already.
“I suppose it’s like any other small Montanan town.”
She made a sound of exasperation, and he repressed a chuckle. Playfully teasing her had become his new favorite thing.
“Details, Mark. I need details. I’ve only ever been on your rodeo grounds. What is there to do there? Does it have good restaurants or attractions? Throw me a bone.”
That image ripped a laugh right out of him.
“Well,” he began, laughter still jangling in his voice. “Like a lot of communities this size we have a town square. It’s surrounded by businesses, and the square itself has a statue of our founder on a horse.”
“And what’s the horse’s name?”
He laughed again. Only Val would prioritize the horse over the man.
“Prudence, I believe. Must not have been much of a racehorse.” He waited for her response, and when she didn’t give him one, added, “Don’t you want to know who the founder of the town is? The actual reason they made a statue in the first place?”
“I guess,” she asked, her tone sounding flippant even if he felt sure she was playing.
“Perkins Jethro. It was said that despite his considerable wealth, he wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and helped drive cattle right alongside the other cowboys he’d hired. He supported the earliest version of the Red Cross and other outreach programs of the time, too. The Red Cross even had a post here. It helped start the community off on our best foot.”
Mark had always liked knowing that. That the town’s founder had been such an upstanding and generous person. And it was nice to be able to pass that knowledge down to upcoming generations by memorializing him in such a way.
“And Prudence? Did he take care of her?”
Mark grinned to himself. “I’m sure he did. Why?”
“Because how people treat animals says a lot about them. I once caught Biggs shouting at Maybelline when she was in her stall for no reason. It riled her up so bad she kicked over her water bucket. His stupid behavior had her jumpy for hours. I couldn’t even practice with her because she was so upset.”
His grin dropped off his face. He’d already understood that the man was a real piece of work, and this additional tidbit didn’t help Biggs’ case any. Again, Mark kicked himself for not arresting him. Even if he’d been released, any difficulty Mark could cause for such a pitiful excuse of a human being would be deserved.
Mark swallowed before continuing. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Good thing it wasn’t a rodeo day, or I might not have been able to ride her. Not that he wouldn’t have blamed that on me.”
“He could hardly pin such a thing on you. Not rightfully,” he growled out, feeling like a timber wolf. Maybe leaving Biggs out in the middle of Yellowstone somewhere way off the trail would’ve been a better solution than arresting him. Serve the scumbag up a dish of his own medicine where he wasn’t the apex predator.
“Maybe not.” Yet, she didn’t sound so sure. “But he had a talent for insinuating that anything that didn’t go to plan was on me.”
Reading between the lines told Mark that Biggs made her feel like everything he did was somehow her fault. That pile of manure had been manipulating how she felt as well as stealing from her. Acid flew through his veins, and Mark knew he needed to occupy himself or he might blow his top.
“Had any other issues with fake cancellations?”
“Not since filing that protective order. That was solid advice. Thank you. What’s it like to be a sheriff, anyway? Is it dangerous?”
“Not often,” he replied, used to downplaying the truth because of his mom and sister. Not that it mattered. No one knew better than his mother and Blair about the hazardous nature of policing. “You’ve got a pretty dangerous profession yourself based on some of those moves I’ve seen you make.”
“You’ve watched me perform?”
“Of course. I watch the rodeo every time it comes. Once upon a time, I was even a participant.”
“Really?” Her tone brightened with interest. “What role did you play?”
“I roped calves.”
“Were you any good?”
He laughed out loud at that one. Val hadn’t pulled her punch in the least. “Won first place in my division for my age group, which was fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds back then.”
“Wow, that’s fantastic. Why’d you quit? The lure of the badge to entrancing to resist?”
He considered sidestepping her questions. Saying something vague and offhanded. Yet instead, he decided candor was the way to go. “My dad had been the sheriff until he was killed in a hit and run. Playing cowboy was no longer an option after that.”
Not that he meant to belittle anyone who took such a path. If it’d been about money or a love for performing, he could’ve traveled that road, as well. But it hadn’t been about that for Mark. For him, it had been about honoring his father in whatever meager manner he could. And dealing with the responsibilities laid at his feet.
He braced himself for her apology, for the same condolences that everyone else gave him. But Val, as was her custom, surprised Mark.
“Do you ever still ride?”
“Seldom. Don’t have much time for such things.” And he hadn’t roped any calves since the night of his dad’s death.
“Did they ever catch whoever was responsible for hitting him?”
“No,” Mark told her, his voice giving out midway through the word.
Nothing had enraged him more than that fact. He’d personally spent whatever resources he could on tracking down the mystery vehicle that had slammed into Alec Talbot. His dad had been standing outside the driver’s side of a man he’d just cited for being above the legal alcohol limit. The driver had been so plastered he couldn’t remember anything but that the car who struck his father had been a darkly hued muscle car.
That was it.
“Everyone in town knows what happened to my father,” Mark finally went on. “But despite all those eyes and ears, no one’s ever been brought to justice for killing him.”
“How long ago was this?”
He calculated it in his head. “Seventeen years ago.”
She fell silent, and so did he. Somehow, the tone of their talk had gone from friendly and carefree to serious and heavy. Mark had just come to the conclusion that he’d admitted too much to someone he barely knew when she confessed something of her own.
“Biggs wasn’t just my manager,” she said so quietly that his ears had to strain to hear. “He was… He talked me into having a relationship with him. I resisted, but he can be persuasive when he wants. Or maybe I was just so young and gullible I let him lead me around by the nose. I shouldn’t have. I can’t believe I fell for his lies now.”
Every muscle in Mark’s body locked up. “Did he abuse you, Val?”
“Don’t picture him beating me, if that’s what’s going through your head. He was nicer to me than to anyone else for quite a while, actually. It caused me to be blind to how he treated others for so long. Longer than it should’ve. I didn’t agree with the decisions he made with my career, but I didn’t protest because I saw how easy it was for him to fly off the handle. Not that it was any excuse to stay with him.”
“You were afraid of him.”
“When I finally did stand up to him we had this bitter argument. I walked into the barn and found him screaming at my mare. I was so angry.” Mark didn’t miss that she avoided his question. “He was so loud and standing so close that I felt the need to get away from him. I ran, and my friend Mitzi helped me get away. I went straight home to my dad.
“Dad chose him to take over as my manager because Biggs is so capable of putting up a convincing front. But Dad doesn’t know half of what Biggs did. I don’t want to tell him either, not with his health being so precarious. So, I’ve been hiding things from him. Dad doesn’t even know about the relationship, and… and I can’t believe I just told you all of that.”
Mark couldn’t believe it, either. Maybe it’d been because of how he’d been so open with her that she felt the need to return the favor. Or maybe she simply felt safe enough while on the phone with Mark to confide in him.
“It’s okay,” he said. “We all have our messed-up pasts. The things we don’t readily volunteer to others. I don’t regale people with my stuff usually, either.”
“You’re extremely easy to talk to, Mark.”
A warm sensation at this declaration filled him from head to foot. There was something about Val offering him such a compliment that meant more than if it’d been anyone else.
“You’re obviously easy to talk to, too, Val.”
“It’s late,” she said. “Are you on duty?”
Oops. Yes, actually. Yes, he was. Thankfully, this happened sometimes in his small town. There were lulls with nothing much going on.
“I am, but that’s okay. I would’ve interrupted you had something hadNow come up.”
“Good. Biggs liked to complain that I rambled on too much.”
“Biggs has earned all five of my knuckles crashing into his weak-chinned jaw,” Mark blurted without thinking. Great. That wasn’t overly professional. But the better he got to know Val Bernard, the more his professionalism seemed to take a backseat to defending her. To being there for her.
Odd that he’d just that instant realized it.
But she giggled. Giggled . It was a sound he’d never once heard from her. “I’d pay real money to see that. Others who’ve had to deal with him might, as well.”
“Maybe I’ll sell tickets and make it a spectacle, then,” he joked.
She giggled again. “I’ll video it for posterity’s sake. It’s something I’d like to watch over and over.”
Nowdriveway,, he laughed. He couldn’t help it. They’d again switched the tone of their conversation, only this time back from the dreary and somber to the humorous. He didn’t regret it, though. Not one bit. They spoke for a few more minutes before at last ending the call. Mark caught up on the duties he’d let slide by the wayside, and by the time his head hit the pillow that night, it was well after midnight.
This meant it was far too short a time after he nodded off that his phone rang.
He jerked up off his mattress, scrambling to reach his cell on the nearby table. But, as par for the course, the device then slipped away from his hand and clattered onto his hardwood floor. Still half asleep, Mark stepped onto that floor with a slight hiss as his bare feet made contact—the fact that the surface was this cold in June irritated him—then dropped to all fours to retrieve the silly thing, which had somehow landed underneath his bed.
“Yeah,” he half barked into the receiver, annoyed by the whole experience. But his annoyance vanished the second he heard whose voice was on the line.
“Mark, I’m so sorry to disturb you like this, but I need your help,” Val said, sounding frantic, and he went from bleary-eyed to alert in less than a second.
“No, that’s fine. What’s wrong?”
“It’s my dad. He’s had a heart attack,” she said. “I called 911, and they rushed him to the hospital there in Billings. But I’m in San Antonio right now. It’ll take me hours and hours to drive it. Even if I can find a flight, I’m so far away.”
“I’ll go.”
Mark glanced from his upstairs window down to where his patrol car had been parked in the driveway grateful it wasn’t winter or he would’ve had to scrape snow before roaring out of there.
“I’m losing my mindthen not knowing what the outcome is. If something happens to him, and I’m not there, I’ll never forgive myself…” Her sentence ended on a sob, and even though Mark was an old pro when it came to dealing with people who’d been thrown into a panic, hearing Val react this way shattered his heart.
“I’m leaving now. Don’t worry. I’m on my way, and I’ll update you as soon as I know anything, okay?”
“O-kay…” Her voice broke in the middle of the word. The crackling sound of static came through next—or maybe she’d simply dropped her phone against the sofa—then her muffled, “They have a seat on that flight? Book it, Mitz.” And then she disconnected.
Scrambling into his boots, jeans, and snap shirt, he practically sprinted out the door. He just so happened to be off that day—one thing he had to be grateful for—so he didn’t so much as bat an eye as he kicked down on his accelerator so hard that gravel from his driveway hit his wheel well. He’d nearly spun out, so he made himself take a breath.
No sense scaring Val more by getting into an accident on the way.