By Lynne Graham
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Her eyes were red and swollen. “Me and my damned barn,” he muttered. ” she sobbed. ” “It is. ” The bell on the door jangled and heavy footsteps echoed on wood. There was conversation, punctuated by Tarleton’s protests. A tall, lean man in a police uniform and a cowboy hat knocked at the tack door and walked in. John turned, letting him see Sassy’s condition. The newcomer’s thin mouth set in hard lines and his black eyes flashed fire. ” he asked in a deep, bass voice. “Yes, sir, Chief Graves,” she said brokenly.
He backed away from the homicidal maniac who started toward him with an expression that could have stopped traffic. ” Tarleton protested. John caught him by the shirtfront, drew back his huge fist, and knocked the man backward out into the feed store. He went after him, blue eyes sparking like live electricity, his big fists clenched, his jaw set rigidly. ” came a shocked exclamation from the front of the store. A man in a business suit was standing there, eyebrows arching. “Mr…. ” Tarleton exclaimed as he sat up on the floor holding his jaw.
Okay, here’s what we’re going to do about those fences temporarily…” In the next two days, John did some amateur detective work. He phoned a private detective who worked for the Callisters on business deals and put him on the Tarleton man. It didn’t take him long to report back. The feed store manager had been allowed to resign from a job in Billings for unknown reasons, but the detective found one other employee who said it was sexual harassment of an employee. He wasn’t charged with anything.