"You are preaching to the choir. At least up to six months ago, when I sat down on a bar stool with a beer in front of me and my precinct friends around me and suddenly I didn't want to be there. I wanted to be on the ranch full-time. I love my job, too, and I sure hate change, so I know where you are coming from."

"So what is your goal?" she asked.

"To finish this case, get my paperwork all signed and sealed, freeze my retirement, and come home to the Double Back Ranch for good. The closer the time gets, the more I want that now that I've made up my mind," he said.

"What about your partner? Is he quitting the force, too?" she asked.

"No, he's still got ten more years before he gets to decide whether to stay or go. And besides, I know he secretly likes the woman who's his new partner. She's smart and has all the newest ways of doing things that get the job done," he said. "And she's a helluva lot better looking than his last partner."

"That would depend on who was doing the judging," she said.

"So you think I'm a little bit good-looking?" He smiled.

"Waylon Kramer, that's the low end of the scale. You measure way on up past that." She flirted.

"Well, now that chases away even more dark clouds." He grinned.

"Speaking of dark clouds, look over there." She pointed toward the southwest. "Think that might be bringing in some rain?"

"I hope so. The hay is all in, and the next crop could sure use some watering. Maybe we'll get caught in it and have to spend the night up here in Wichita Falls," he said.

"And now we have Luke Bryan with one of his top tunes from last year, 'Strip It Down,'" the radio DJ said.

"Have you seen this video?" Kate asked.

"Yes, I have. The city boy knows he's lost it with the country girl, and the country boy can't forget the city girl," Waylon said. "Which one am I? And which one are you?"

"At heart, you are a country boy, but you've been in the city too long. At heart, I'm a city girl, but I'm learning to love the country life. Where does that take us?"

"To a happy medium, I hope," he answered. "What do you get from the video?"

She ran what she could remember from the video through her mind. "I see a young farmer who needs to take his woman to a nice place and let her get all dressed up. And then I see a corporate bigwig who used to be a cowboy and fell for a woman in cowboy boots. Now they're both miserable and wanting another shot at love. Which one are you?" Kate asked.

"Both. I've worn the suit and the cowboy boots. Which one would impress you the most?" he asked.

"Neither," she answered.

"Oh, come on," he said, grinning. "Surely you know if you like a cowboy or a detective better."

"Right now I'd like for all this crap to be cleared up, and I don't care if a cowboy, a detective, or a big old tomcat does the job," she said.

The grin faded. "A tomcat?"

"Like in those cozy mystery books," she said.

"The cat really solves the case?"

"Sometimes. Maybe you'd better get a cat."

He shook his head. "Okay then. With all the information you gave us, we do have some good leads, but you were in that cabin with Conrad after Iris died, and so were Amanda and Jamie. A good prosecutor would argue that one or all of you found those letters months ago and, individually or collectively, you all murdered him. Y'all are still at the top of the suspect list." He grimaced. "Maybe even more than before. That's what I wanted to tell you and didn't want to tell you at the same time."

"Well, shit!" she said. So that's the reason he'd been so antsy that morning when he picked her up. Nothing was decided and everything was even worse than before. In all the scenarios she'd thought about, that one never entered her mind.

"Exactly." He frowned. "I can turn this truck around and take you home if you want."

"Hell, no. I want that big hamburger you promised me," she said.

"Okay, then, but I'll understand if you turn me down on the next news."

"You mean that's not all of the bad news?"

"This has nothing to do with the case, but knowing that the bunch of you aren't in the clear by any means might mean that none of you want to cooperate. You've heard about the festival?"

She nodded. What in the hell could a fishing festival have to do with the case or anything else for that matter?

"Well, several years ago my mother bought an old stagecoach at an auction and the parade committee, plus the Bootleg citizen of the year, rides in it during the parade. I get it out of the barn where we store it and shine it all up for that day," he said.

"And you're going to chase down Conrad's real killer in an antique stagecoach?" she asked.

He laughed. Dammit! Why did he have to be so sexy when he brought out the charm?

"No, but while all the spiders are chased out of it and it's still clean, Victor and Hattie want to have a picnic at the ranch so the girls can have a ride in it," he said.

"As in more than just Gracie? As in Lisa?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"When is all this supposed to happen?" she asked.

"Festival is next Saturday. The stagecoach would still be clean on Monday evening," he answered. "Hattie says that she'll bring a picnic lunch for us to have beside the creek on the back side of the ranch and the kids can play in the water."

"Why are you asking instead of Hattie?"

"She and Victor thought if it was my idea, it might not look so much like they were pushing Paul and Jamie together," he answered. "So if you aren't too mad at me for being the messenger of bad news about the case, then I'd ask you not to tell Jamie who really thought up the whole plan."

"Well, I expect I can keep that secret." She smiled. "Truth is, I've wanted to ask you if I could bring Gracie to the ranch for an afternoon or morning."

"Anytime." He grinned.

Waylon had let emotions get in the way of his job for the first time in his career. He liked Amanda and Jamie, and he'd hate to see them prosecuted. But Kate was a different story. He believed her, and he damn sure did not want to see her behind bars. He shouldn't even be taking her out for a hamburger or hiring her to work on his ranch, but dammit, there was something there between them that he couldn't ignore.

He'd sworn off women after his second divorce and he'd stayed pretty faithful to his vow of bachelorhood until he met Kate. God or fate or karma damn sure had a wicked sense of humor.

"Gracie told me she wanted to come to your ranch and ride a horse someday so I know she'll be delighted, but I feel like I should ask Jamie first," Kate said. "Now, let's put all that on the back burner and you can tell me about this burger joint. Is it a chain? Do we have them in Dallas and Fort Worth?"

"It's not a chain. It's one of a kind and it's called Bobby Jo's. They only make burgers and hot dogs. None of this diversifying business. And they peel their own potatoes for their fries and make their own chili for the burgers and hot dogs."

"Chili for burgers?" She frowned.

"Don't knock it until you've tried it," he said. "A chili burger is two pieces of meat, two pieces of cheese, and a scoop of hot chili that melts the cheese. You usually have to eat it with a spoon, but it's pretty damned good."

"Sounds like it. Do they do chili cheese fries?"

"Yep, and they are amazing," he said.

"How'd you find out about this place?" she asked.

"My daddy was a big fan of hamburgers and hot dogs, so when we drove up here for a load of feed or to go to the stockyards, we always went to Bobby Joe's. The original owner died some years ago and they changed up the sign a little bit to be Bobby Jo's, as in a girl's name. She's his granddaughter."

Kate's stomach growled.

"That's a good sign," Waylon said. "You want to go in there hungry."

He drove past a mall and several other places to eat, made a few turns that had her completely lost as to how she'd ever find her way back out of the maze without him, and then parked in a lot crowded with trucks and cars.

"We're lucky," he said. "We got here before the church crowd. Welcome to the best-kept secret in North Texas."

She stepped out to the smell of grilled onions and burgers. "It smells heavenly."

"Tastes even better."

With his hand on the small of her back, he ushered her inside, and a cute little red-haired woman left her place from behind the hostess counter and hugged him tightly. "Waylon Kramer, where have you been keeping yourself? This gorgeous woman is too good for the likes of an old cop like you."

"Kate, meet Bobby Jo. Bobby Jo, this is Kate Steele, and I agree with what you said, which makes me the luckiest man in the place today."

Kate blushed scarlet but did remember to hold out her hand. "I'm pleased to meet you, Bobby Jo. I hear you make an awesome burger."

Her handshake was firm, and her blue eyes twinkled. She had kinky red hair that she'd pulled up in a messy bun, and she wore a T-shirt that advertised the business. "My cooks do, and I'll fire their asses the day they don't. Y'all come on back here. You can have the VIP table today." She dropped Kate's hand and motioned for them to follow her, leading them through a maze of tables filled with people who had already been served.

"First class," Waylon said as he seated Kate. "Thanks, Bobby Jo."

"Anytime, darlin'." She went up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. "I loved this man's daddy. He always left me a dollar tip just for bringing him the menu. That's all Grandpa let me do in those days. Your server will be with you in a minute." As she left she pulled a set of sliding doors shut, leaving them in a small enclosure with a window facing a tiny little garden.

"This is great, Waylon," Kate whispered.

"I've been in here dozens of times, and I didn't even know there was a VIP table." He grinned. "She must like you."

The doors opened, and a waitress appeared with two glasses of water and a couple of one-page menus. "What can I get for y'all today?"

"I want the double bacon cheeseburger, chili cheese fries, and a Coors in the bottle. Longneck if you have it," Kate said.

"Well, that was quick. How about you, sir?"

"The same, and add a foot-long hot dog with cheese and chili, no onions on anything for me," he said.

Kate handed her the menu. "Hold the onions on mine, too."

Waylon's hand closed over hers. "You know this means we have to sit here and talk for an hour so the beer will be out of our system before we leave."

"As long as we don't talk about the murder, I don't suppose that will be a hardship," she said. "I have a question to get us started. Have you ever thought of drilling for oil on the ranch?"

The waitress brought their beers and set them down. He took a long sip of his before he answered. "No, thank you. We make a fine living with our Angus cattle. I might look into the equipment to make big round bales of hay in the next couple of years, though. It would mean not having to go out to feed cattle twice a day. But I'd rather talk about something other than ranching."

"Such as?"

"You. The future. What happens when your vacation ends? How much I like the color of your eyes. Those could be starters," he said.

"Maybe we'd best see if I'm indicted for murder before we think about us or the future," she said. That could have a huge bearing on whether he'd ever see the color of her eyes again.

He covered her hand with his. "I do not believe you killed Conrad. I just have to find who did so that you are cleared."

"Thank you for that. Now let's talk about today and whether the chili in this place is as good as what you make. Or we can talk about how much I adore Gracie and really would steal her if I could figure out a way to do it legally."

"Whatever you want to talk about is fine with me. Hell, woman, you could read that menu backward to me," he said.

"Now that's a pickup line if I ever heard one." She laughed. "When we finish eating, would you mind if I did some shopping?"

"Darlin', I'll sit outside the dressing room door and enjoy the show as you try on clothing. Think you could model one pair of jeans for me?"

"It could be arranged." She nodded. Jeans? She hadn't bought jeans in years. She worked in power suits, and when she was at home, she wore sweatpants and T-shirts. It might be fun to try on a pair and maybe some boots. If she was going to work on a ranch in the wintertime, she would need boots.

Where in the hell did that thought come from? She almost gasped.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

Is my mama going to die?" Gracie asked Amanda over breakfast the next morning.

"Of course not! Why would you ask that?" Amanda frowned.

"My daddy just up and died. He didn't tell me he was going to die, and if my mama is going to die, will my Mama Rita take care of me? Will I have to go back to Dallas and leave the cabin?"

"Your mama would have told us if that was happening, don't you think?"

"My daddy didn't tell me anything. I wish I could stay here forever." Gracie propped her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "I didn't like that funeral. Everyone was so sad and then after the preacher finished, everyone was mad. Mama was really mad until we came here and now she is happy. I don't ever want to live in our old house again, because she might be mad like that again."

"We were all mad. So was Kate and so was I," Amanda said.

Gracie went back to eating. "You'd tell me the truth if my mama was going to die, wouldn't you?"

"Yes, I would," Amanda said.

"Would you tell me if Kate was going to die?" Gracie asked.