slid off her face. “I’m beginning to think nobody wants me anymore. A few other people said the same thing to me.”
Henrietta turned and looked over her shoulder at Tracy. “You know better. You’re ten times better at doin’ hair than Sandy Parker ever was. But now, you could go to school. Become a doctor like you always wanted. Lord knows you’ve got the smarts for it. Besides, you’ve always said, if you could, you’d go back to school. Now’s your chance.”
Tracy shook her head and looked down into the tray of curlers. She gripped the comb in her left hand until her fingers hurt. “I have Bobby to consider.”
“True. But think about how much your going to school will mean to him. Right now, all he wants to do is play football because that’s what Jake’s pounding in his head. The boy needs an education if he’s ever gonna amount to anything.”
Her new sister-in-law had been a drug addict, a teenage runaway and ended up serving a year in prison for a crime she’d been duped into committing, and now, she was happily married, pregnant and adopting a teenage daughter. But she was still taking classes at the local college.
Danm, was that envy she felt? She licked her lips and rolled the last curler into Henrietta’s white hair, suddenly anxious to get her out of the shop. “I’m too old to go back to school.”
“Poppycock. You’re what? Thirty-two? If I was your age, livin’ in today’s world, I’d be doing everything I could to be a pilot in the Air Force. Maybe even join NASA. Can’t you see me flyin’ one of those fancy Space Shuttles?” She laughed, but her misty green eyes betrayed more than a wistful dream as she stared at their reflections in the mirror. “You’re too young with too many opportunities to just give up on your dreams, Tracy Caroline.”
* * * *
Zack read the report and looked up at the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association agent standing in front of his desk. “Not a single clue.”
Agent Herbert Milroy caressed his graying mustache. “Nope. Damned frustrating, is what it is. But I haven’t seen a rustler yet in my twenty years of being a TSCRA agent that didn’t suffer the same disease: cockiness.”
Tossing the sheet of paper onto the jumble of traffic tickets and deputy reports covering his desk, Zack leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the ache springing up in his temples. “I sure as hell hope so. The Westcotts were already on the verge of bankruptcy. Losing forty-three prime steers didn’t help them. And I’d hate for someone else as bad off to be hit next.”
Milroy rubbed his hand across his nose and sat in the chair in front of the desk. He glanced at his hands before looking up at Zack, and cleared his throat. “I need to talk to the owners of Butterfly Springs Cattle Company.”
Zack straightened in his chair. “They’re on their honeymoon and left Tracy Parker in charge. If you need anything, she’s the one to ask.”
The agent seemed to consider his words before nodding. “Alright. I’ll do this your way. I suppose Quinn and that sassy filly he married deserve to have a little peace after what happened at the Independence Day Charity Ball.”
Herb Milroy was a local man and had been at the Gambler’s Lake Country Club for the annual shindig when Leon Ferguson had held Charli and Dylan at gunpoint. Zack still remembered the adrenaline rush when he’d pulled the trigger of his Glock from twenty yards away. He hadn’t shot a man since his last tour in Afghanistan over two years ago. Although he hadn’t wanted to kill Ferguson and had aimed for his shoulder, he now wished he’d saved the state of Texas and himself the trouble of wanting to try him for his various crimes. The businessman’s lawyers were making Zack’s life a living hell. The thought of the meeting with the DA earlier that afternoon weighed on him, threatening to drag him under.
The slight ache in his temples turned into a bonafide
Henrietta turned and looked over her shoulder at Tracy. “You know better. You’re ten times better at doin’ hair than Sandy Parker ever was. But now, you could go to school. Become a doctor like you always wanted. Lord knows you’ve got the smarts for it. Besides, you’ve always said, if you could, you’d go back to school. Now’s your chance.”
Tracy shook her head and looked down into the tray of curlers. She gripped the comb in her left hand until her fingers hurt. “I have Bobby to consider.”
“True. But think about how much your going to school will mean to him. Right now, all he wants to do is play football because that’s what Jake’s pounding in his head. The boy needs an education if he’s ever gonna amount to anything.”
Her new sister-in-law had been a drug addict, a teenage runaway and ended up serving a year in prison for a crime she’d been duped into committing, and now, she was happily married, pregnant and adopting a teenage daughter. But she was still taking classes at the local college.
Danm, was that envy she felt? She licked her lips and rolled the last curler into Henrietta’s white hair, suddenly anxious to get her out of the shop. “I’m too old to go back to school.”
“Poppycock. You’re what? Thirty-two? If I was your age, livin’ in today’s world, I’d be doing everything I could to be a pilot in the Air Force. Maybe even join NASA. Can’t you see me flyin’ one of those fancy Space Shuttles?” She laughed, but her misty green eyes betrayed more than a wistful dream as she stared at their reflections in the mirror. “You’re too young with too many opportunities to just give up on your dreams, Tracy Caroline.”
* * * *
Zack read the report and looked up at the Texas and Southwestern Cattle Raisers Association agent standing in front of his desk. “Not a single clue.”
Agent Herbert Milroy caressed his graying mustache. “Nope. Damned frustrating, is what it is. But I haven’t seen a rustler yet in my twenty years of being a TSCRA agent that didn’t suffer the same disease: cockiness.”
Tossing the sheet of paper onto the jumble of traffic tickets and deputy reports covering his desk, Zack leaned back in his chair and tried to ignore the ache springing up in his temples. “I sure as hell hope so. The Westcotts were already on the verge of bankruptcy. Losing forty-three prime steers didn’t help them. And I’d hate for someone else as bad off to be hit next.”
Milroy rubbed his hand across his nose and sat in the chair in front of the desk. He glanced at his hands before looking up at Zack, and cleared his throat. “I need to talk to the owners of Butterfly Springs Cattle Company.”
Zack straightened in his chair. “They’re on their honeymoon and left Tracy Parker in charge. If you need anything, she’s the one to ask.”
The agent seemed to consider his words before nodding. “Alright. I’ll do this your way. I suppose Quinn and that sassy filly he married deserve to have a little peace after what happened at the Independence Day Charity Ball.”
Herb Milroy was a local man and had been at the Gambler’s Lake Country Club for the annual shindig when Leon Ferguson had held Charli and Dylan at gunpoint. Zack still remembered the adrenaline rush when he’d pulled the trigger of his Glock from twenty yards away. He hadn’t shot a man since his last tour in Afghanistan over two years ago. Although he hadn’t wanted to kill Ferguson and had aimed for his shoulder, he now wished he’d saved the state of Texas and himself the trouble of wanting to try him for his various crimes. The businessman’s lawyers were making Zack’s life a living hell. The thought of the meeting with the DA earlier that afternoon weighed on him, threatening to drag him under.
The slight ache in his temples turned into a bonafide
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