The Ranger and the Widow Woman
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Stella Bagwell
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16,3K
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Harlequin🌸 Clean & Wholesome
HarlequinChapter 1
Charlie Pardee was hot, tired and hungry. The last thing he wanted to do was stop on the side of a blistering highway and play mechanic. The temperature was ninety-five degrees in the shade, if a shade could be found within a twenty-mile radius. But the lady standing helplessly by the fender of the dark blue sedan had the prettiest legs he’d seen in a long time, and Charlie was not a man who could ignore a lady in distress, even though every part of his brain was begging him to.
He parked on the opposite shoulder from the ailing car. Once he was on the ground and out of his pickup truck, he lifted his straw cowboy hat and swiped long fingers through the sandy brown hair plastered to his damp forehead. It wasn’t a day for anyone, man or woman, to be stranded in a New Mexican desert.
Plopping the bent straw back on his head, he sauntered across the lonely highway. “Having trouble, ma’am?”
The woman’s dark eyes studied Charlie’s tall, muscular form as if she couldn’t quite decide whether he was an angel sent to save her or a demon she should be running from.
“I...uh...think my car is overheated.”
Steam was billowing out from under the hood, and she had to think on the matter. He’d come up on a real nitwit this time, Charlie decided.
“It surely appears that way,” he said drily.
He moved closer to the woman and the small sedan. Her wary gaze not daring to leave him, she inched backwards, her hand fumbling for the door handle.
Charlie couldn’t imagine how she thought getting back into a broken down car was going to save her from his clutches. But at least she had enough common sense to be on her guard. That was more than he could say for most women.
He gestured toward the car. “If you’ll pop the hood, I’ll take a look. I’m not a mechanic, but I might be able to tell you what’s wrong. Have you been having trouble with the car before?”
She shook her head, then seeming to decide she had no choice but to trust him, she opened the car door and leaned in to pull the latch.
With the hood released, Charlie pushed it up the rest of the way and propped it there. The woman, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-four or -five, appeared at the front of the car to stand a few steps away from him.
From the corner of his eye, Charlie caught another glimpse of her bare, slender legs. She was wearing navy blue boxer shorts and a lime green T-shirt. Leather thongs were on her feet. Her pale, smooth skin told him she wasn’t a sun worshiper. The pearly pink color of her toenails assured him she was proud of her femininity, but she didn’t like to flaunt it. She wasn’t a glamor girl by any means, but she certainly had the makings for one.
“I haven’t had any trouble with the car before now,” she said in a soft drawl that was a bit Texan, but mostly Georgian. “All of a sudden a bell started dinging and a light on the dash said Check Engine. What does that mean?”
“It means you’re in trouble,” Charlie said flatly.
Her dark, winged brows shot upward as though she was certain she’d heard him wrong. “I beg your pardon?”
Charlie had seen a lot of pretty women in his twentynine years, and being the normal red-blooded male he was, he usually gave them a look whenever one passed his way. This woman, however, was leaving him with the idiotic urge to stare.
“The car,” he explained with an annoyed frown, then forced his eyes to the steaming engine. “‘Check Engine’ means it’s a pretty sick puppy.”
“Oh.” A heavy sigh passed her pink lips. “I certainly hope that isn’t the case. I’m not prepared to have major repairs done to the car.”
Quickly identifying the problem, Charlie picked up a piece of broken fan belt and held it up for her to view. “The belt that runs the cooling system has broken. If you’re lucky, and the engine didn’t get too hot, it will only be a minor repair job.”
Raking her tumbled hair off her face, she glanced up at the tall man with eyes as blue as the sky overhead. “How close is the nearest town to the west?”
It never ceased to amaze him how people would start across desolate land without so much as a road map, but he resisted the urge to lecture her. “About twenty-five miles or more.”
His hand resting on the hood, Charlie covertly studied her. She was a little thing, the top of her head barely reaching the middle of his upper arm. Her hair was a dark cloud of waves around her head and shoulders. Her ivory complexion was satin smooth and gleamed with perspiration. But it was her pale green eyes that struck him the most. The color of a tropic sea, they were incredibly beautiful. Yet they were also full of secrets and suspicions.
Ten years of being a lawman allowed Charlie to see things a normal person would never notice. And he couldn’t help wondering what had brought this woman out to the desert.
“Twenty-five miles,” she repeated uncertainly. “If the car could—”
“Mommy? Mommy?”
Thinking she’d been traveling alone, Charlie was surprised to see a young boy around four or five hanging his head out the back window of the vehicle. His short, curly hair was dark like his mother’s, but the resemblance stopped there.
The woman quickly moved to her son. “It’s all right, Sam,” she gently assured him. “I’m right here.”
The child scrubbed the last crumbs of sleep from his eyes, then, leaning further out the window, he glanced curiously around him. “What’s the matter, Mommy? Why are we stopped?”
She smoothed her hand alongside his cheek. “Something is wrong with the car, honey. We have to wait a little while before we can go again.”
“Uh...ma’am,” Charlie felt compelled to interrupt. “No ‘little while’ will fix anything. You can’t drive this car two feet until a mechanic puts a new belt on it. He might be able to do the job here. But I’m betting it will have to be towed to the nearest garage.”
Charlie watched her press small fingers against both temples. There was no wedding ring on her left hand or even a pale band where one had been in the past. A single mother. A divorcee or widow. She could be any of the three, he decided.
“I see. What you’re telling me is that my son and I are well and truly stranded.”
“You were...until I got here.”
She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean and she wasn’t about to ask. “Then what do you propose I do?”
Charlie had been on his way home to his parents’ ranch north of Hondo. But what the hell, he figured, he’d been forced to put his homecoming off several times in the past six months. An hour or two more wouldn’t kill him. Besides, he couldn’t leave her and the kid here to the mercy of the searing heat and whatever nut case might happen to be driving by. “You can ride in with me. Or I have a cellular phone in my truck you can use to call for a wrecker service to come get you.”
Leaving her car and climbing into a vehicle with a stranger was not a choice Violet O’Dell wanted to make. Even if the stranger was the sexiest thing she’d seen in a long time.
“I’d really rather not leave my car,” she told him. “I’ll be glad to pay you for the use of your telephone. But I don’t have the slightest idea who to call.”
Charlie had been away from the area too long to know a reliable mechanic to call, but he knew someone who would. “I’ll get somebody out here.”
He crossed the highway to his white truck and opened the door on the shoulder side. To his surprise, the woman ordered her son to stay in the car, then walked across the highway to join him.
Glancing at her strained features, Charlie punched in a number, then put the telephone to his ear.
While he waited for the connection to go through, she asked, “Are you from around these parts?”
“My parents live on a ranch about thirty miles from here.” The dispatcher on the other end of the line answered, and Charlie turned his attention away from the woman. “Yes,” he spoke into the mouthpiece. “Is Sheriff Pardee in? This is his son, Charlie.”
The woman gasped softly, and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Sheriff? I don’t need—what are you doing?” she suddenly demanded. “I haven’t done anything wrong!”
Frowning, he shook his head at her just as the dispatcher informed him the sheriff was out of the office at the moment. “Can Randall come to the phone?” he asked the woman.
As he waited to speak to the undersheriff, he said to Violet, “I didn’t say you had done anything wrong, Miss—uh, did you tell me your name?”
Her lips pursed with disapproval, she glanced at him sharply. “I didn’t. But it’s Violet—O’Dell.”
He thrust his hand toward her. “Hello, Violet. I’m Charles Pardee. Call me Charlie. Everyone else does.”
She didn’t want to touch him. Not that there was one repulsive thing about the man. On the contrary, he was the most appealing male she’d encountered in a long time. His slightly square jaws, strong, dented chin and striking blue eyes made his looks more than nice. But for some inexplicable reason she was scared to touch him, afraid she might feel a sizzle of attraction for this stranger.
“Hey, Randall,” he suddenly spoke into the phone. “How’s it going? This is Charlie.”
With his hand still offered to hers, Violet had little choice but to put her palm alongside his. His long, lean fingers quickly enveloped hers, and she swallowed hard as warmth filled her cheeks.
To Violet’s relief, however, he seemed to consider the encounter as nothing more than a brief handshake. As soon as he dropped his hold on her, he turned his full attention to the person on the other end of the line.
“Yeah, I’m back home for a little vacation. They got sick of looking at me back in Forth Worth. Is my dad around? No, it’s nothing about a case. I’m out here on Highway 380 about twenty-five miles east of Picacho. There’s a lady here with a broken fan belt. I didn’t know who would be the best mechanic to call. Can you send one with a tow truck out here?”
He looked over at Violet, then grunted with sardonic amusement. Violet’s spine stiffened.
“Okay, bud, I’ll warn her. And thanks, Randall.”
“Warn me?”
“Randall says you ought to know I can’t be trusted.”
The expression on his face held little humor, if any. Yet surely he had to be teasing. It was difficult to tell what this stranger was all about.
“Who was that you were speaking to?” she asked him.
“The undersheriff of this county,” he said matter-of-factly. “He works for my dad, Roy Pardee, the Sheriff.”
She stared at him with something akin to horror. “Look, Mr....uh, Charlie Pardee. I don’t want the law out here! I want someone to fix my car!”
She was getting more agitated with each passing second and Charlie’s weariness changed to skepticism. “You have something against the law?”
Scarlet color splashed across her cheeks. “No. Why? Are you going to tell me you’re some sort of lawman, too?” she asked incredulously.
For an answer he pulled a square of leather from his jeans pocket then flopped it open for her inspection. Violet stepped closer, and her face paled considerably as she read the name inscribed on the badge. Charles Pardee, Texas Ranger.
Dear Lord, how had she managed to run smack into a lawman? A Texas lawman at that! Now just calm down, Violet, she silently scolded herself. No one knows you’re gone yet. And this man just happened to be going down the same road. That was all there was to this whole thing.
“What...are you doing out here?” she asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.
Her eyes scanned his faded jeans and cowboy boots, the plain white T-shirt covering his broad shoulders. Didn’t Texas Rangers wear a badge on their chest and a gun belt on their hips? This guy looked as though he’d just stepped out of a cattle pen.
Charlie didn’t know why he was taking the time to explain anything to this woman. He was hot enough to melt. He wanted to go home, put up his feet, drink a cold beer and try to forget the past year of his life. “We Rangers do stray out of the state from time to time,” he said sardonically.
She nervously fingered the tiny heart-shaped locket dangling against the hollow of her throat. “Then I guess I should be thankful you happened to stray this way. This highway doesn’t appear to be heavily traveled.”
“The traffic usually depends on what’s going on in Ruidoso. A big futurity at the Downs or a festival of some sort always brings a string of traffic to this highway.” His blue eyes continued to rake a shrewd path over her face. “You headed very far?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “I’m just passing through New Mexico.”
“Mommy! Can I get out of the car now?”
“Excuse me,” she told Charlie, then crossed the highway to her son.
Through the open windows of his pickup cab, Charlie watched her open the back door of the sedan and lift her son out to the ground. He was dressed in shorts and sandals and a muscle shirt with some sort of action hero printed on the front. For a dark-headed child at this time of summer, he was pale. Charlie wondered if the little guy was sickly or if Violet O’Dell was overprotective and kept her son housed up most of the time. Either way, he hated the idea of a youngster, especially a boy, not being able to enjoy the outdoors.
Charlie put the cellular phone back in its cradle, then after a moment of thoughtful hesitation, walked across the highway to join the two of them.
The child tilted his head back and looked up at him with curious brown eyes. “My name is Sam,” he said with a small measure of shyness. “What’s yours?”
Charlie couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a child. Except for his cousin Emily’s new baby, who had been born about four months ago, the rest of his family was grown-up. A few of his fellow Rangers had children, but he rarely saw any of them. And the juveniles he sometimes came in contact with through his work couldn’t be compared to this innocent little fella.
Not certain how to greet a youngster of this age, he decided a handshake would have to do. “My name is Charlie. Nice to meet you, Sam.”
“It’s too hot in the car,” he explained. “Mommy says she can’t turn on the air conditioner.”
The boy had a round face, dimples and a sprinkling of faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. As Charlie looked at the child, the detective instincts in him were wondering where his father was and why he and his mother were out here driving across the desert alone.
“Your mommy told you right,” he told the boy. “She can’t turn on the air conditioner now. Maybe you’d like to go sit in that bit of shade right over there.”
Charlie pointed to a single twisted limb of juniper about fifteen feet away from the car. Other than a few clumps of sage and a yucca plant now and then, the sole evergreen was the only thing big enough to cast any sort of shade from the burning sun.
Violet shot Charlie a wary glance. “Do you think it would be safe? What about sidewinders or scorpions?”
It was all Charlie could do not to roll his eyes and curse out loud. As a child, the desert had been his playground. His mother had protected him and taught him about the dangers to watch for, but she hadn’t smothered him. Like Charlie, Justine Pardee had been raised in this high desert country. She felt at home in it, whereas Violet O’Dell obviously didn’t.
Biting his tongue, Charlie reminded himself he’d be home soon and this little delay would be nothing more than a dim, unpleasant memory. “Sidewinders or scorpions could be anywhere out here. Even in your bed. A person just has to be mindful of them.”
Her mouth popped open with shocked disgust. “Not in my bed!”
Charlie’s eyes cut a path over her slender figure. As far as he was concerned having Violet O’Dell in his bed would be far more dangerous than bugs or reptiles. She was the kind of woman that would get inside a man’s head and be hell to get out.
“Look ma’am—er, Violet, the risk of your son getting a serious sunburn is far greater than him getting a snakeor bug-bite.”
Violet had to concede he was probably right, but that didn’t mean she wanted her son traipsing over unknown ground. And she certainly didn’t want a man telling her what she ought or ought not do. Especially a man who made it sound as though her ignorance of the desert was grating on his nerves. She hadn’t flagged the man down and begged for his help!
Not bothering to wait for her permission, Charlie reached for the child’s hand. “Come on, Sam. I’ll take you over to the shade. It’s going to be a while before the man gets here to fix the car.”
The two of them reached the juniper and Charlie examined the ground all around it, then called over to Violet, who was still standing beside the car watching them intently.
In a sardonic voice, he called out to her, “Nothing but dirt. So you can quit wringing your hands. It’s too hot for even a homed toad to be out today.”
Sam cocked his head up at Charlie. “What’s a homed toad?” he asked curiously.
Charlie showed the child where to sit, then squatted down on his boot heels beside him. “Do you know what a lizard is?”
His dark eyes glued to Charlie’s face, he nodded. “I’ve seen one before on the sidewalk. Mommy told me not to touch them.”
No doubt, Charlie thought wryly. To Sam he said, “Well, a homed toad is a type of lizard, but he looks like a frog with horns.”
“Oh! Is he dangerous?”
Dangerous? Good Lord, he felt like going over to Violet O’Dell right this minute and telling the woman she needed therapy or her son was going to grow up frightened of his own shadow. Or maybe the two of them simply needed a man in their life.
“Naw, there’s nothing dangerous about him. When I was a boy like you I use to play with them all the time. I even kept one in a shoe box under my bed and fed him flies.”
The expression on Sam’s face said he didn’t believe Charlie had ever been as little as himself. It also said the outdoors and all it held was an unknown fascination to him.
Back at the car Violet dug a few bills out of her purse, then carried them over to the Ranger. She didn’t especially like the idea of being out here alone in the desert while waiting for a tow truck. But there wasn’t any point in keeping the man here any longer. He’d already gone out of his way to help them. Moreover, Violet didn’t want the lawman getting too friendly with Sam. Her son was usually talkative. She didn’t want him inadvertently telling the man something about their life he didn’t need to know.
“Here’s something for the telephone call,” she said, offering the bills to him. “If it’s not enough, just say so.”
A frown puckered Charlie’s forehead as he glanced up at her. “I don’t want your money.”
She turned away from his probing blue eyes and back to her broken car. “Maybe you don’t, but I prefer to pay you.”
The cool, impersonal tone of her voice irked Charlie. He didn’t deserve it. He’d already gone out of his way to help the woman. Besides, the frosty attitude didn’t suit her at all.
His gaze lingered on the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips. “You don’t like accepting help from strangers, is that it?”
Her back still to him she said, “I simply don’t want to take advantage of your kindness, Ranger Pardee. You’ve already gone out of your way to help. Please don’t feel as if you need to stay until the tow truck gets here. Sam and I will be fine now.”
She was dismissing him, urging him to go. Charlie should be laughing with relief and hightailing it out of here as fast as he could go.
But for some reason, whether it was Sam’s endearing little face or Violet O’Dell’s lovely legs, he decided he couldn’t simply walk away and leave them alone in the desert. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he drove away and then heard later that something bad had happened to them.
“No, I think I’d better stay and make sure the tow truck gets here.” To make his point, he sat down on the hot loamy soil beside her son. “If I were you,” he added matter-of-factly to Violet, “I’d take a seat, too. This heat can sap you before you know what’s happening.”
Carefully taking a seat on the opposite side of her son, Violet gathered her knees to her chest. “Are you here in New Mexico on business, Charlie?”
He propped his elbows on his bent knees. He didn’t want to think about his business. He was too tired, too weary of it all. And this woman didn’t really care. She was merely making conversation. Other than his mother, he didn’t know any woman that really cared. “No, I’m on my way home,” he said flatly.
“Home? Isn’t Texas your home?”
“Most of the time. But my parents’ place, The Pardee Ranch, is what I call my real home. It’s where I always go when I have a little vacation.” Whenever he needed to get away from the stress and strain of his job, when he needed to get back under blue New Mexican skies, get the earth back beneath his feet and remember why he’d ever become a Ranger in the first place. And this time, he thought wearily, he needed the solitude more than he ever had in his young life.
“Me and Mommy are on an adventure,” Sam spoke up brightly. “We’re gonna see and do lots of new things.”
Charlie glanced at the boy while his mind was turning over all sorts of scenarios concerning Violet. Was she leaving a lover, a husband or simply a bad past? Hell, Charlie, he chided himself, you need to quit questioning this woman’s motives. She was probably traveling to see relatives or simply on a vacation, like he was supposed to be. For the next few weeks he needed to quit being a Texas Ranger and simply be a man.
“That sounds like fun,” Charlie said in afterthought.
“It was fun until we became stranded,” Violet remarked. “The car isn’t but three years old and I’ve taken very good care of it. I never expected something like this to happen.”
Once again Charlie had to stifle the urge to lecture the woman, to warn her to always be prepared for the unexpected. But it wasn’t his place. Her husband or whoever had been the father of her child should have already done that. Besides, she would probably get the idea he was some sort of paranoid maniac. And maybe he was, he thought sourly.
“Heat like today’s can cause things to happen to the best of cars.”
A tractor trailer rig appeared on the eastern horizon. It whizzed by Violet’s car and Charlie’s truck without so much as a slack in speed, then less than five minutes later a car approached from the west. When it obviously slowed and started to pull onto the shoulder, Charlie stood up and waved it on.
“Mommy, I’m thirsty,” Sam whined. “Are we gonna have to stay here much longer?”
“I don’t know how much longer we’ll be here, Sam. But sit where you are and I’ll get some water from the car.”
Violet left the pitiful excuse of a shade and headed to the car. Sam picked up a twig and made a long scratch in the dirt. “My mommy is nice.”
Sam’s words of adoration didn’t surprise Charlie. At his age, he’d thought his own mother was wonderful. He still did. He loved and respected his father, and the two of them had always gotten on splendidly once his father had discovered he had a son. But when Charlie needed to spill his troubles, it was his mother he went to.
“She seems very nice,” Charlie absently agreed as his thoughts drifted longingly to his quiet little cabin on the ranch. It had been months since he’d been away from ringing phones, faxes and pagers, city traffic, smog and the never-ending weight of a heavy workload. The solitude of the place would be like sheer heaven.
“She hasn’t cried at all today,” Sam spoke again. “And I’m glad.”
The child’s statement jerked Charlie out of his wishful thinking. From the corner of his eye, he watched the boy continue to dig a miniature trench in the sand. “Does your mother cry a lot?” he asked carefully.
Sam nodded, and Charlie was surprised at how much the child’s grave expression touched him. For the past year he’d been numb. He’d thought he’d gone beyond feeling much of anything for anybody.
“Yeah,” Sam answered. “Since my daddy went to heaven to live with the angels. Before then she only cried a little.”
Charlie was at a loss for any sort of suitable reply, and when Violet returned with a bottle of flavored water, he figured it was just as well. Being a detective for the past three years, he knew how to get information from people. But he had no desire to pump this child. Sam had already told him enough to make him feel like an interloper, and he didn’t want to care about these two. He really didn’t want to care about anyone. It was too much work, too much pain.
Fifteen minutes later a wiry little man in greasy, striped overalls and no shirt arrived in a wrecker. Charlie assisted him as best he could while he replaced the broken belt, but when the mechanic tried to start the engine it refused.
“Just how hot was this car?” the little man directed at Violet.
She glanced helplessly at Charlie, then back to the mechanic. “All I know is a bell started dinging and steam poured out from beneath the hood.”
The man shook his head and clucked his tongue. “Can’t say right now, ma’am, but I’m afraid you’ve busted your heads.”
“My heads?” she repeated blankly. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know anything about engines. Are you talking about something serious?”
“Sure enough. A two-day job at the least,” he took off his greasy cap and thoughtfully scratched the top of his head. “And that’s if the heads don’t have to be shipped from a dealer in Albuquerque. But I’m bettin’ they will. This is not your everyday make of car runnin’ down the road.”
Violet’s heart sank as she watched the older man jab a cigarette between his lips and stick a lighter flame to the end. “This sounds like it could be expensive,” she said.
He nodded grimly. “Might as well warn you, the heads alone, I’m figurin’, will cost six or seven hundred. That’s not countin’ me takin’ the cracked ones off and puttin’ the new ones on.”
“Oh, dear.” Violet hadn’t counted on anything like this happening. She was carrying a fairly large sum of cash with her, but not enough to pay for repairing the car. She had money in the bank back in Amarillo, but she’d planned on waiting as long as she could before she drew on it. She didn’t want any sort of transactions showing up and tipping Rex off to her whereabouts.
“I suppose I’ll have to let you tow the car into Ruidoso. But after that—I just don’t have the money to pay for such major repairs. Is there some place I can store the car for a while?”
Up until now Charlie hadn’t said anything. After all, she was a stranger. It wasn’t any of his business what she did with her vehicle, herself or her child. And he was on vacation, damn it. The last thing he needed was to hassle himself with a woman and kid. But if she needed help or advice he could hardly refuse.
“Violet, if you have to be somewhere at a certain time, you could take the bus and come back and get your car later,” he suggested.
Her green eyes swept up to his face, and in spite of his reluctance to get involved, Charlie felt himself crumbling like a piece of soft sandstone.
“There’s no need for us to catch a bus. I don’t...have a schedule to meet,” she told him haltingly. “Like Sam told you...we just packed up and headed out on an adventure. I suppose—” She bit down on her lip while glancing back at the sick engine beneath the hood. “I’ll have to find a job of some sort before I can afford to repair my car. Is there any sort of job for a woman in Ruidoso?”
Hellfire, she needed an employment agency, not him, Charlie wanted to yell at her. Instead, he took a deep breath and motioned for the mechanic to go ahead with the towing. Then, taking Violet by the upper arm, he led her to where Sam was still waiting patiently beneath the juniper bush.
“Violet, jobs don’t grow on trees. Out here or anywhere. It sounds to me like you’d better contact someone at home and have them send you the money.”
Her spirits sinking to her feet, she shook her head. There were several friends back in Amarillo who would gladly lend her money. But she doubted any of them had that much extra cash lying around the house. And even if they did, Violet wouldn’t ask for such a loan.
“I don’t—” Have a home, she very nearly blurted before she managed to catch herself. “There’s not anyone to send me the money,” she finished quickly.
“What about Grandpa? He has lots of money,” Sam suggested, his expression all grins for having thought of such a sensible solution.
Without Violet even knowing it, a shutter fell over her face. “We can’t...bother Grandpa with our troubles. He has plenty of his own.”
Charlie’s gaze went from mother to son and back again. She was obviously in a dilemma and a broken-down car was only a part of it. But that didn’t surprise him. Women and trouble went hand in hand. If they didn’t already have a problem, they would soon get themselves into one.
“What sort of job can you do?”
Violet’s chin lifted. What can you do? The question grated on her like coarse sandpaper. She might look helpless and ignorant to him. But she wasn’t. Neither was she lazy or afraid of work.
“I was working as a bookkeeper before, but...” she instinctively circled her arms around Sam and pulled him against her legs. “I’d prefer to do something where I could keep my son with me. But that’s like wishing for rainbows every day of the year. I’ll take whatever I can get and be glad for it.”
She wasn’t a Miss Goody Two-Shoes. Charlie could say that much for her. But she obviously wasn’t using much common sense, either. What in hell kind of woman would head out with a small child across a lonely stretch such as Highway 380? And simply because they wanted an adventure!
He jerked his head toward his pickup truck, “Let’s follow the wrecker. Once you get into town you can decide what you want to do, for tonight at least.”
But tomorrow, Charlie told himself, she’d have to take care of herself. He was going to say goodbye to Violet O’Dell and head to the peace and quiet of the Pardee Ranch.
