When to Call a Cowboy

  Also by June Faver

  Dark Horse Cowboys

  Do or Die Cowboy

  Hot Target Cowboy

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  Books. Change. Lives.

  Copyright © 2019 by June Faver

  Cover and internal design © 2019 by Sourcebooks

  Cover design by Dawn Adams

  Cover image © Rob Lang Photography

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All brand names and product names used in this book are trademarks, registered trademarks, or trade names of their respective holders. Sourcebooks is not associated with any product or vendor in this book.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  sourcebooks.com

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  Chapter 1

  “You’re Beau Garrett?”

  Beau turned, eyeing the speaker, a man about his own age, mid-twenties. The man was not as tall as Beau, but beefy, wearing a T-shirt advertising a gym in Dallas.

  “That’s right.” Beau put forth his hand, offering to shake with the stranger.

  “You sonovabitch!” This pronouncement was followed by a rushing behemoth whose shoulder to Beau’s gut took them both to the sidewalk.

  Ah, shit! Beau’s freshly starched western shirt was being ground into the dirt as his attacker prepared to take a swing. Beau dodged to one side, and the oncoming fist smacked into the concrete sidewalk.

  A howl of pain and rage burst from his assailant.

  Beau scrambled to his feet and swung a fist of his own, catching the man square in the nose. “Who the hell are you, asshole?” he demanded.

  Blood streaming from the man’s nose, but unfazed by the punch, he sprang to his feet. He swung his uninjured fist, grazing Beau’s chin as he tried to dodge.

  A kernel of anger burst in Beau’s chest like an incendiary device being detonated. He set on the man, both fists delivering well-placed blows, mostly to the head and gut.

  “Beau Garrett, you stop that right now.”

  The feminine voice sounded vaguely familiar, but Beau managed to deliver one more punch that sent his foe to the sidewalk in a heap. Beau dropped his fists and turned to face the female who had spoken, only to receive a roundhouse blow to his cheekbone. He staggered backward, barely avoiding falling over the man on the ground. “Dixie?” he asked when his vision cleared enough to focus.

  The irate redhead stood with both fists cocked. “What have you done?” she demanded. “Why did you attack my friend?” She glowered at Beau before going to hover over the man on the sidewalk. “Scott, are you okay? Let me help you.”

  “Dixie?” Beau repeated as though in a daze. His cheek and eye socket throbbed from her punch. “What are you doing here?”

  She paused in her ministrations to the fallen man and glared up at him. “Well, in case you hadn’t heard, my father died, and I’m here to make arrangements for his funeral.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Beau muttered. “I didn’t know your dad was ill.”

  “He wasn’t,” she snapped. “Somebody shot him dead last night while he was closing up the store. Sheriff thinks it was a robbery. His bank deposit bag was missing.”

  “Sorry,” Beau said again, feeling completely inadequate. “I—ah...”

  Dixie helped the aforementioned Scott to his feet. Offering soothing comments, she led him toward a vehicle parked at the curb. “I’m going to take you to the local doctor. She’ll fix you right up.”

  Beau watched as Dixie loaded the guy into the SUV and then took off in the direction of the doctor’s office.

  He huffed out a huge sigh, turning toward the store that had been his intended destination that morning. In his pocket was a check made out to Moore’s Feed and Seed Store meant to pay the Garrett ranch tab for the previous month. Beau’s father, Big Jim Garrett, had sat in his study the night before, writing checks to keep all the accounts current.

  Sure enough, there was a hand-lettered sign in the feed store window that read CLOSED DUE TO DEATH IN THE FAMILY.

  Beau swallowed hard. He found it difficult to accept that Mr. Moore had been killed. There had always been a Mr. Moore. When he was a boy, his dad had taken him into the feed store, and Vernon Moore had always been there. Later, when he was in grade school, he recalled being instantly enamored of the little girl with the bright-red curls. They had played together like puppies, Dixie being a complete tomboy and as likely as not, more ready to wrestle or climb a tree than sit down to a tea party with dolls.

  “Dixie Moore,” Beau intoned softly. His first crush. His first girlfriend. His first sexual partner. His shoulders sagged.

  And then she was gone.

  In the middle of their senior year, Dixie’s mother had suddenly left town with Dixie. There had been no warning. No goodbyes. No way to keep in touch.

  Losing Dixie had torn a hole in Beau’s heart. He had never quite recovered and never found anyone to replace her. He’d gone to the prom alone and come home early.

  Beau stared at the closed-up store. Someone would have to open the doors soon. All the ranchers in the area depended on Moore’s Feed and Seed. It couldn’t just cease to serve the community.

  He climbed in his truck and drove back to the Garrett ranch. He was sure Big Jim would have something to say about the morning’s events.

  * * *

  Frowning, Big Jim Garrett stared at his youngest son. “Better get some ice on that. You’re going to have a beaut of a shiner.”

  Beau slouched at the granite countertop in the Garrett kitchen. “I swear, he just called my name and then came at me.”

  Having raised three sons, Big Jim was used to mishaps that required ice. He kept several ice packs in the freezer for just such occasions. Selecting one, he tossed it on the wooden cutting board an
d pounded it with his fist to break up the chunks. “Here you go.” He flung it on the countertop near his son’s elbow.

  Beau grunted and reached for the pack, placing it gingerly against his cheek, which was already swollen and turning purple.

  “Nice job,” Big Jim murmured. “And you said it was Dixie Moore who punched you?”

  Beau nodded. “First, her boyfriend attacked me out of the blue, and then Dixie got off a shot. What is this? Beat on Beau Garrett day?”

  Big Jim snorted. “Sounds like you got in a few punches of your own.”

  A wry grin spread across Beau’s face. “That I did. We Garretts aren’t exactly known for turning the other cheek.”

  Big Jim exploded with laughter. “That’s for damn sure.”

  “What happened to you, Little Bro?” Tyler, Big Jim’s middle son, entered the kitchen and slid onto the stool next to Beau. “That’s quite a shiner you’ve got working there.”

  “Shut up,” Beau responded.

  “Remember Dixie Moore?” Big Jim asked. “She gave him that one.”

  “No way!” Ty grinned at Beau. “I remember her as a scrappy little hellion. What did you do to piss her off?”

  “Not a damned thing.” Beau tossed the ice pack down on the countertop and pounded it a few times with the side of his fist before gently applying it to his face again.

  Tyler’s expression sobered. “I heard her dad got killed last night. It’s on the news.”

  Big Jim frowned. “That’s what Beau was telling me. It seems little Miss Dixie is here to bury Vern.”

  Ty’s brows drew together. “I wonder what she’s going to do with the store.”

  “Well, for damned sure there has to be a feed store in Langston,” Big Jim thundered. “Too many people around here depend on it.”

  * * *

  Dixie had taken Scott to see the local doctor. Scott had sustained a broken nose and fractured two bones in his right hand when his fist impacted the pavement instead of Beau’s face.

  Now, Scott looked almost comic, with his right hand in a cast and the entire arm immobilized in a sling to remind him not to use it. He also had rolled-up gauze stuffed in his nasal cavities, and both eyes were turning black with bruising. In all, he looked like a petulant walrus with his two gauze tusks.

  “Whatever were you thinking?” Dixie glanced over at Scott as he slouched in the passenger seat of her burgundy SUV. “I could have told you Beau would whip your ass.”

  “You know why,” Scott said. Due to the gauze up his nose, he was mouth-breathing, and his voice was raspy and nasally.

  Dixie figured Scott recognized Beau from the high school photos she had of him in her apartment. Somehow, she just couldn’t put them away. And seeing him again was like stabbing her straight in the heart. He was even better looking as a man than he had been as a teen. His shoulders were broader, and his tall, lanky teen form had filled in with a solid bank of muscle.

  She swallowed hard. It was the eyes that got her. Those killer Garrett eyes. Beau’s hair was a little lighter than his two older brothers, but they all had those incredible blue eyes. Almost turquoise, ringed with black lashes all around.

  When Scott and Beau had been fighting, she knew Scott was the underdog. Although he had greater muscle mass and was much heavier, he didn’t stand a chance against Beau Garrett. And there was the fact that Scott had started the fight, so he had the element of surprise on his side. He would never think of himself as a loser…but in this match, he was far outclassed.

  Beau Garrett could always whip his weight in wildcats and had done so, on occasion, while defending Dixie’s honor.

  She fought to control the smile threatening to break out as she recalled how valiant Beau had been. Always her hero. Well, almost always…

  And now she had her friend Scott trying to defend her honor against her former hero. How sad is that? She glanced over at her sullen protector and reached out to give him a pat on the arm.

  “You’re sweet, you know?”

  “I’m a dumbass, apparently.” Scott placed his good hand on top of hers. “But I love you, you know?”

  “I know. Love you too. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world.”

  He nodded. “I don’t know what I would do without you—and Roger, of course.”

  Dixie smiled at the mention of Scott’s lover and soon-to-be groom. “I’ll have to thank him for letting you come with me. I don’t think I could face this ordeal without you.”

  “I’m always here for you. It’s terrible that your father was murdered.” He shook his head. “This little town doesn’t exactly look like a hotbed of crime.”

  She pressed her lips together, strengthening her resolve to tie up loose ends as fast as possible and try not to get caught up in whatever had happened to Vernon Moore. She couldn’t imagine her mild-mannered father getting involved in anything that would get him killed. But then again, maybe she didn’t know him at all anymore. She had been gone a long time. “Yeah,” she intoned. “I’m sure the sheriff will deal with it.”

  He wagged his head from side to side, the tusks making a wide arc. “I don’t understand,” he said. “I can take anybody at the gym. I was on the boxing team in college. How come this punk cowboy can chew me up and spit me out?”

  “Don’t feel bad,” she said. “He’s no punk. That cowboy works hard every day. He’s just one big muscle. And if memory serves, just mention a fight and all the Garretts would jump in.” Shaking her head, she let out a chortle. “It wasn’t the same kind of fight as in a gym with a referee. Those Garrett boys knew how to fight.”

  Scott made a guttural noise in the back of his throat. “One of them still does.”

  * * *

  Beau saw the SUV around town, but Dixie always had her goon boyfriend with her. He ached to talk to her. To have a real conversation. He wanted to know why she and her mother had left town so abruptly and why she never contacted him. She knew he was in love with her. She knew he was serious about her. She knew…

  Vernon Moore had always opened and closed his own store, but he had a full-time helper who had been pressed into service to keep the feed store in operation.

  Beau pushed the door open and approached the counter. Pete, the clerk, looked tired and maybe a little dazed. Beau gave him the check he had been tasked to deliver from Big Jim. “How are things going?” he asked.

  Pete shook his head. “Terrible. I can’t believe old man Moore is gone. Somebody just shot him…right outside the door when he was locking up.” Pete gave an exaggerated shudder. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies every night when I’m trying to close the store.”

  “I guess so,” Beau agreed. “Isn’t there another guy who works here?”

  Pete grimaced. “Josh Miller, my cousin. He’s been working part time since he was in high school. He’s a big guy, and he could handle the heavy lifting when it got to be too much for Mr. Moore.” He shook his head. “Vern kept him on because he felt sorry for Josh’s mother.”

  “Yeah?”

  “My aunt is a widow. Nice lady, but having a hard time getting by.” He scratched his head thoughtfully. “Mostly, Josh works in the big shed out back. He receives shipments and rotates the stock so we can keep it fresh…does inventory. He loads the orders into customer trucks. That sort of thing.” He shrugged. “You know Vern. Always a soft touch.”

  Beau nodded. Vern was known to allow some of the local ranchers to stretch their credit quite thin during a bad spell. “When is the funeral going to be held? I haven’t heard anything about it.”

  Pete looked both ways as though about to spill a secret, but the only other customer was a lady pawing through the vegetable seed packets, and her two kids were squatted down petting the baby bunnies. “The medical examiner hasn’t released the body yet. It was a murder, you know?”

  Beau nodded, his patience wearing t
hin. “How about Vern’s daughter, Dixie? Has she said what she plans to do with the place?” His casual question was tossed out in hopes Pete would tell him she planned to move back to Langston.

  Pete shook his head, his expression dour. “Lil’ Miz Dixie—she said she would put everything on the market. She can’t wait to get back to Dallas.” He shrugged. “Who would have thought our little Dixie Moore would turn out to be a city girl?”

  “Yeah,” Beau said. “Who would have thought?” He huffed out a sigh and left the store, distinctly dissatisfied.

  He stood for a moment, blinking in the sunlight after the dimness of the store. He couldn’t imagine why Mr. Moore had been targeted, but he guessed someone had been desperate enough to rob an old man and then shoot him.

  Beau climbed into his truck and started it up. The big diesel motor gave a little roar as he revved it. Slipping into gear, he backed out and pulled onto the main drag. Moore’s Feed and Seed was located on the outskirts of town…the opposite direction from the Garrett ranch.

  Beau drove slowly, taking in everything but keeping an eye out for the burgundy SUV. He spied his new sister-in-law’s Jeep parked in front of the law office where she worked. His oldest brother Colton had married Misty just a few months ago, and the vehicle was a present he bought for her. Beau could have killed some time by pulling in and chatting with her, but he figured she had work to do and he would just be in the way.

  At the next intersection, he glanced down the street and located Dixie’s automobile in front of the church. He sucked in a breath and blew it out, puffing his cheeks as he did so.

  Might as well give it a try. Surely she won’t punch me in church.

  He pulled in beside her car and turned off the motor. What if her boyfriend was with her? Beau squared his shoulders. So what? That guy would be an idiot to go after me again. He climbed out and pocketed the keys.

  Although his footsteps appeared sure and confident, Beau’s gut was doing flip-flops. He had no idea why he was anxious about seeing Dixie again. Taking a deep breath as he sprinted up the steps, he paused with his hand on the brass door pull to consider what he might say to the girl who had left him and never looked back. He swung the door open and stepped into the cool darkness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Walking deeper into the interior, he made his way to the back hall, which led to the church office and various rooms used for Sunday school classes, Boy Scout and Girl Scout meetings, and other gatherings.