Heart of Texas Volume 1: Lonesome Cowboy. Debbie Macomber

      Four

      Grady wasn’t looking forward to talking to Frank Hennessey, but he’d delayed his visit to the sheriff long enough. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he drove toward town, and his thoughts darkened with his fears. It bothered him that his sensible, intelligent sister had been taken in by a lowlife like Smith.

      One thing Grady couldn’t tolerate was a thief. As far as he was concerned, stealing what belonged to another was about as low as a man could go. His feelings, no doubt, were influenced by what Richard had done. From the time his younger brother was an infant, he’d been spoiled and coddled by their parents. Savannah was guilty of catering to him, as well—along with everyone else. Even in high school, when Richard should have been maturing and accepting adult responsibilities, he’d made it an art form to pawn off his obligations on others. From early childhood Richard had charmed his way through life. How that boy could talk, Grady recalled cynically. He’d often watched in astonishment as Richard, so glib and smooth, managed to get out of one scrape after another. Nothing had been his fault. Someone else was always to blame. His brother had continually found ways to shift the responsibility for his failures and problems onto other people.

      Richard was a charmer, a ladies’ man and a smooth talker, but Grady had never suspected his brother was a thief. Then he’d learned the truth. After the shock of the theft had worn off, Grady had been left to face the reality of their dire financial circumstances. He’d even blamed himself. He should never have taken Richard to the Brewster bank or let him know where he kept the key to the safe-deposit box. But Grady had trusted him. And learned the hard way that it had been a mistake.

      He wasn’t willing to make a second mistake, especially not where his sister was concerned. Savannah was all the family he had left, and he wasn’t going to lose her.

      In the beginning Grady’s opinion of this outsider had been tainted by Savannah’s attitude. For the first time in more years than he could remember, she’d challenged his judgment. So Grady’s natural inclination was to dislike the man she’d favored, against his advice. But he had tolerated Laredo Smith’s presence. He’d even taken some good-natured ribbing from Wiley and Caroline Daniels about being unreasonable. Given time, he might have put the drifter on the payroll himself. As Wiley and Savannah had reminded him often enough, they needed extra help.

      He wouldn’t hire Smith now, though. Not after what he’d learned. No way in hell would he offer a job to a known thief.

      Grady had discovered everything he needed to know about Laredo Smith in his short conversation with Earl Chesterton. He wanted Smith off his land as soon as possible and as far away from Savannah as could be arranged. Frank would understand, and because the sheriff was fond of Savannah, he’d be eager to help Grady send him packing.

      His sister’s words—Don’t ruin this for me—echoed in Grady’s head, and although he believed he was making the right choice, he felt a sense of guilt. The last thing he wanted was to see Savannah hurt. He wanted to get rid of this drifter, but he had to manage it in such a way that Savannah would agree it was the only prudent course of action.

      For that he needed Frank Hennessey’s help.

      Grady considered it his duty to protect his sister. She claimed she knew everything necessary about Laredo; Grady doubted that. A thief was a thief, and if Smith had stolen once, he’d steal again. Grady strongly suspected this cowboy had tangled with the authorities on more than one occasion. That was what he intended to find out from Frank Hennessey. Faced with the raw truth, Savannah would have no qualms about sending Smith on his way.

      Grady found Frank Hennessey relaxing at his oak desk, feet propped on the edge and hat lowered over his eyes as he enjoyed a midafternoon snooze. Frank had represented the law in Promise for as long as Grady could remember, and while an able lawman, he took business in his stride.

      Grady closed the door a little harder than necessary and Frank used his index finger to lift his Stetson off his forehead just enough to let him take a peek at his visitor.

      “Howdy.” Frank greeted him lazily with the familiarity that years of friendship allowed. “What can I do for you, Grady?”

      Grady hesitated, unsure how to begin. At last he blurted, “I’ve got trouble.”

      The older man’s smile faded and he slowly straightened. “What kind of trouble?”

      Grady removed his hat and rubbed a hand across his brow. “I need to ask a favor of you, Frank. Now, I know you wouldn’t normally do this sort of thing, but it’s the only way I can think of to save Savannah.”

      “What’s wrong with Savannah?” Frank asked abruptly, gesturing toward the hard wooden chair that sat alongside his desk.

      It gave Grady no pleasure to drag family business into the open; however, he had no choice but to involve Frank. “You’ve heard about Savannah hiring a drifter to work in her rose garden?”

      Frank’s mouth angled into a half smile. “The story’s been all around town twice by now, and Dovie was full of the news.” He paused to chuckle appreciatively. “Apparently Dovie didn’t think Savannah had it in her to stand up to you.”

      Grady hated the thought of folks talking about Savannah behind her back and let Frank know his feelings on the matter with a dark scowl.

      Apparently Frank got the message because he cleared his throat and looked apologetic. “You know how women love to gossip,” he said with a disapproving frown—although it was well-known that the sheriff wasn’t opposed to indulging in the habit himself.

      The fact that the news had spread all over town complicated things. Grady figured all he could do now was get to the point and leave the problem in Frank’s capable hands.

      “I don’t trust him. First off, I’ve got to think Smith’s a phony name.”

      “He might have picked something more original than Smith if that’s the case, don’t you think?” Frank asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

      “Why he chose that name isn’t the point,” Grady argued. “‘Laredo Smith’ sounds about as real as a three-dollar bill.”

      “Other than not liking his name, have you got a reason not to trust him?” Frank asked next.

      “Plenty.” Surely Frank didn’t think he’d come to him over something trivial! “Smith mentioned that he last worked for Earl Chesterton on the Triple C over in Williamsburg, so I called Earl and talked to him myself. Found out Earl fired Laredo Smith for stealing.” He spit out the last word. Even saying it left a bad taste in his mouth.

      Frank’s eyebrows lifted. “Why didn’t Earl press charges?”

      “I asked him that myself.” The other rancher would have saved Grady a great deal of trouble if he had. “Apparently it was one man’s word against another’s and no way to prove who was telling the truth and who wasn’t. Earl fired them both.”

      “I see,” Frank murmured. “Seems to me that if Smith had something to hide, he wouldn’t have mentioned working on the Triple C.”

      Grady sighed and wondered why no one else viewed the situation with the same concern he did. “I’m asking you to do a background check on Smith,” he said, and realized he was expecting a great deal of their friendship. Frank had every right to deny his request, but Grady hoped he wouldn’t.

      The sheriff frowned and his chair creaked noisily as he leaned back and considered Grady’s request. “I understand you’re worried about Savannah and I can’t say I blame you. Your sister is one of the most kindhearted people I know,