Deputy Brand Gets Her Man (The Texas Brand: Generations #3)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

When Willow bellied up to an open spot at the curved hardwood bar early on a Thursday evening, Cat Shaw was handling the beer taps, two teenagers were waiting tables, and the guys she was looking for were nowhere in sight.

He was, though. Gringo Sombrero. His eyes had been on her since she’d walked into Two Lilies Honky Tonk.

She’d felt him tracking her as she’d wound amid tables full of folks enjoying the food.

He’d ditched the big sombrero he used to hide behind but not the bushy blond beard.

She supposed she ought to try to think of him by his given name, since he was family, though not by blood.

He was her adopted cousin Ethan’s half-brother.

And he still came in some afternoons to sit at his favorite table and people-watch.

He acknowledged her with a nod, and she replied with a smaller one and looked away wondering why her stomach was all churned up.

“What can I get ‘cha, Deputy?” Cat asked. A purple paisley scarf tried but failed to tame her sable and gray curls. Behind her, a wall-sized mirror backed shelves full of liquor.

“Sweet tea’ll do me, Cat. I’m on duty. You seen the Barker Boys around?”

“Those three.” She rolled her eyes. “Ethan’s…discouraged ‘em from bringin’ their business here.”

“Yeah. He’s out of town for the night, though,” Willow said. “Had a gig in San Antone. I figured they might get brave.”

“Not so far.” She delivered a tall dewy glass of sweet tea on ice with a lemon wedge, and spoke softly, leaning in. “What’ve the Quinn County Creeps done now?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.” The three were jumping from one crime to another—vandalism, theft, random beatings. Always three guys, and one of them considerably larger than the other two, but that was it. She needed more.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” Cat said. “I’ll wait for the grapevine. Should light up any time now.” She turned her wrist as if checking a watch she wasn’t wearing, then winked and headed for another patron.

Willow turned on her barstool, glass in hand just as Stu Barker’s rusty yellow pickup truck, jacked up with extra-big tires, rolled in.

It stopped in the strip of pavement right next to the “No stopping. Park in Rear” sign, on top of the painted arrow pointing the opposite way.

Stu shut the rumbling vehicle off and got out.

His two brothers got out, too—the wiry one from the passenger door, and the big one jumped down from the bed.

The front of Two Lilies was all glass, and there were outdoor tables on the patio beyond, but the glass partition was closed at the moment.

Willow set her iced tea down, slid off her stool, headed out through the single glass door as they approached, and pulled it closed behind her.

“Hey, boys, why don’t you sit out here with me for a minute? I got some questions for you.”

“Nobody’s mannin’ the bar out here,” Stu said. He’d have argued no matter what she’d opened with, though. His chin was jutting, jaw set. He’d come here looking for trouble.

“I’ll buy,” she said. She held up three fingers, not even looking behind her. “Cat’ll bring ‘em. That’s a nice spot, right there. Corner table in the shade.”

The two lesser Barkers looked to their leader, Stu.

Tank was a big, mean bull, pawing the dirt and blowing, waiting for the chute to open.

Tuck, his twin, was more like a scrawny terrier with patches of exposed skin—he was twitchy and nervous.

There was not a complete set of brain cells between them.

Stu rolled his eyes but slogged to the table in the shade.

Before all three asses had made chair-contact, Cat was coming out with the beers and Willow’s sweet tea. No tray, just hands. She was a pro.

“Anything else for you fellas?” she asked.

They grumbled non-answers. Cat scurried away with a quick, worried look at Willow. Will gave her a subtle “it’s fine” nod.

“So,” Willow said, after they’d each taken a pull from their foamy mugs, “three fellas dressed up like cops and robbed a man at gunpoint. Masked, but they match your descriptions.”

“Wasn’t us,” said Stu.

“Yeah. We was with Dad last night,” said Tank.

“How’d you know it was last night?” Willow asked.

Stu kicked Tank under the table, then said, “Because you’re questioning us today.”

“You guys order some cop uniforms off the , did you?” Willow watched them and wished she could use their faces as evidence in court.

“Maybe you’ve got ‘em out in the truck right now?” she asked, glancing at the yellow pickup.

Stu said, “You ain’t gettin’ in mah truck without a search warrant, lady deputy.”

He made it an insult. She pressed her lips and nodded. “It’s illegally parked, I think,” and she got to her feet and started toward the truck. “It’s blockin’ the driveway. I oughtta move it. Prevent an accident.”

Stu jumped up too. He put himself directly in front of her and bent so close to her face she could smell his beer breath. “I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Oh, you’re readin’ me wrong, then, because I very much want to do that.”

He drew back a fist to punch her. She never knew whether he’d have actually done it, though, because a different fist hit him in the face. It had come from behind her, like a piston driving directly over her left shoulder and crunching Stu’s nose.

Gringo. Jeremiah. He put his hands on her shoulders, moving her gently to the right as Tank and Tuck surged his way like Dumb and Dumber.

He put Tank to his knees with a shot to the front of his neck, but Tuck punched the Gringo right in his bearded chin, snapping his head back.

Willow stepped in front of him and kneed Tuck Barker in the balls. He doubled over and fell to his knees.

“Assaulting an officer.”

“He hit first,” Stu muttered.

She put her hand on her sidearm but didn’t pull it. The message was clear. The three goons got up and ambled toward their truck, yelling all the way.

“You assaulted us!” Stu accused.

“You drew back to hit me,” Willow said. “I got witnesses. Don’t come back here, boys. You’re banned for life. And if it’s you pulling all the bull around Mad Bull’s Bend, you’ll do time for it. I’ll see to that.”

Stu and Tuck got into the truck and slammed the doors. Tank climbed into the back causing the bed to sink six inches. They sped around the building, through the parking lot in back and out the other side—the one with the IN arrow, then roared down the highway belching black exhaust.

She’d kept her eyes on them the whole time.

“You should’ve arrested him,” the Gringo said.

“If you’d’ve let him hit me, I could’ve arrested him,” she said, finally turning to face Jeremiah.

“And then I could’ve got a warrant and then got the goods on all three of ‘em. You see how that works?” She raised her brows, because there was blood dripping from his bushy beard. “Where’s that comin’ from?”

He looked down, shrugged. “Chin, maybe?”

“Jeez Louise. Come on, come with me.” She didn’t take his arm or anything, just led the way. She grabbed some paper napkins from a dispenser on one of the tables, handed them back to him and kept going, inside, around the muttering patrons who hadn’t expected a floor show with their meals.

As she passed the bar, Cat handed over the first aid kit, a large white tackle box with a red cross painted on it. One tableful of folks applauded as she passed. She didn’t know if it was for her or the Gringo.

The stairs were just this side of the archway to the dance floor and stage, and she headed up them and into the private bathroom Ethan had built for Lily as a wedding present.

It was dusky rose with creamy trim and even a corner shower with glass doors.

There was a big counter with a basin on one end, and the mirror behind it was lined in lights.

She put him in the chair, in front of the counter’s lighted end.

Then she turned to look at his face and sighed. “Lord, why haven’t you shaved that brush lot off?”

“Why? Would you like me better if I did?”

“Possibly, but either way, I could at least assess the damage.” She started opening drawers.

Lily kept the place stocked with all the usual bathroom supplies.

But there were no electric trimmers she could locate.

She did find scissors though, pulled them out, and came toward him.

“What do you say?” she asked, opening and closing the blades like the jaws of a shark.

“I’m at your mercy, Deputy.” He opened his arms to his sides, closed his eyes and waited.

Willow didn’t know why she did it. She could’ve just handed him the scissors and wished him luck.

But instead, she moved right up close to him, put her hand on his forehead, and pushed his head back.

Then she held the soft beard between her fingers so it wouldn’t pull too much, and she cut.

And cut. And cut. The scissors were fine and sharp and they did a good job.

She slid her palm over his cheek, then snipped.

She cradled his jaw, then snipped. She inched her way across his upper lip, snipping with care, revealing his face more and more.

Then she stood back, staring at him. The blood was coming from a gash in his chin, but hadn’t stained his neck or even his shirt, thanks to the beard. She gave him a wet cloth to hold there.

“There’s a shaver in the cabinet under the sink, there,” he said, dabbing the cut, and pulling the cloth away repeatedly. Every time he did, new blood welled. “Ethan and Lily threaten me with it every time they see me.”

She got the electric shaver out while he dug around in the first aid kit. He plucked out a couple of butterfly bandages and a tube of antibiotic ointment.

“Band-Aids won’t stick to whiskers,” she said. “Besides, I think you need a couple stitches, there.”

“I’ll pinch it together if you’ll shave around it,” he said, and he took the cloth away. Blood welled and he pinched the cut together, wincing a little.