Sweet Talking Lawman Read online

  None of the characters in this book have any existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names, either living or deceased. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure fiction.

  Except for the use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Please acknowledge the endless hours of work that goes into the development of this or any other copyrighted book you read by respecting the author’s ownership.

  Copyright by

  MB Buckner ©

  Dedication

  Without the unending support of my husband this book would not exist. Like the heroes in my books, DH is strong, dependable, determined and my best friend. He is a constant source of information, sometimes surprising me with bits and pieces of knowledge that I had no idea he possessed.

  Love ya, babe! And here’s to the next 44.

  I’d also like to thank my proof readers; thank you so much ladies; in alphabetical order, Debbie, Karen, Linda Ann and Mary Sue. You ladies made this so much easier for me. I truly appreciate each of you.

  Table of Contents

  A note from the author

  Prologue

  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

  Epilogue

  A note from the author

  I hope you enjoy reading Sweet Talking Lawman as much as I enjoyed writing it.

  I know the dropped g at the end of many of the words will bother some people, and maybe I should apologize for that, but being a proud Southerner, I won’t. That’s just the way we talk.

  At some point in the book, Mesa takes over the training of a young horse named, To, (pronounced, doh.) In the language of the Lokata people that means blue. In order to distinguish To from to in the rest of the book, I have assigned the color blue when referring to the animal’s name, just like I did in this note.

  Uci (pronounced, uhn-chee) is the Lakota word for Grandmother and is often used by non-related people as a term of respect or affection. Wasicu (pronounced wah-shee-chue) is another Lakota word I’ve used and it refers to white people. Wakan (pronounced, wah-kahn) is also a Lakota word I’ve borrowed and translated, it means sacred, or holy.

  Raale’s dialogue was based on the speech pattern of my own granddaughter when she was about that age, and some days it was more correct than other days, depending on who she’d been spending time with.

  Sweet Talking Lawman was not written to be a sequel to my previous novel, Sweet Talking Cowboy. Growing up in the South, I often heard alpha type men who were popular with women referred to as sweet talkers, thus the use of those words in the titles. By the way, I married a sweet talking southern man and we’re still happy after 44 years. If you enjoy this book, please be so kind as to leave a review so others will know your reaction to reading it.

  Thank you,

  MB Buckner

  Sweet Talking Lawman

  by M.B. Buckner

  Prologue

  The day had been long and exhausting. Thankfully her mother had been practically sober during the graduation service at the Big Oak High School in Oak Ridge but Mesa was sure that sobriety had ended along with the ceremony.

  Mesa always tried to portray herself as being a typical teenage girl when she appeared in public or even just with her friends, but her reality was a different story.

  It was still early when Uci and Jenny dropped her off at her house and she stood on the big front porch watching them drive away, one hand lifted in a silent good-bye. Just down the hill, behind the cavernous barn a horse nickered and back in the woods east of the house, an owl called, warning all that his hunting hours had arrived. Mesa dreaded going inside. It was much more pleasant out here listening to the sounds of the night settling in around her. Out here, things were normal, the way God had designed them to be. Inside was anger, resentment, drunkenness, hopelessness, lust and when she entered, fear would accompany her. A breeze stirred and for a moment the oppressive heat of summer shifted and she turned her face into the gentle movement and smiled. That breeze was to summer what the Storm Horse family was to her life, a refreshing touch of something normal and welcome, pushing away the dread and fear that was her reality.

  Mesa gave a final wave as Jenny and Uci drove away. She was thankful they had included her in their celebration and provided her a ride home, but as she pushed open the front door of the big house, she breathed in a sense of trepidation.

  She’d completely given up hope that Shirley would ever quit drinking. It had started right after Mesa’s father died and intensified into a daily, out of control ritual. The girl glanced at the stairs as she pushed the door shut. Up those steps and in the master bedroom, she knew her mother would, by now, be passed out and existing in the realm of alcohol induced slumber. Until most of the effects of her binge wore off it wasn’t likely that she would awaken.

  Slipping in silence up the stairs, Mesa was careful to avoid putting her feet in the places which would result in an audible squeak. She hoped with everything in her heart, that Melvin, her mother’s current live in boyfriend was likewise passed out. Since the day he moved in, he’d had shown an inappropriate interest in her.

  Mesa once mentioned that interest to her mother who’d laughed and called her a liar and then made the situation worse by discussing it in front of Melvin. From that point on, he’d ignored her in Shirley’s presence, but became bolder when he encountered Mesa alone.

  With a breath of relief, she slipped through the door of her room and soundlessly closed and locked it behind her. Moving confidently around the familiar room in the darkness, she placed the few mementoes of her high school graduation on her dresser and prepared to undress. She heard a sound from the darkened room behind her and whirled around, her heart slamming against her ribs as Melvin materialized out of the shadows of her open closet.

  “I’m damned glad you finally got home, girl,” he slurred. “I was gettin’ tired of waitin’ on you.”

  Mesa’s eyes stretched wide when she realized he was naked as the day he was born, as he crossed the room toward her. She gasped. “Stay away from me! Uncle Rance will kill you if yo---,”

  He grinned drunkenly. “I got somethin’ special to give you for your graduation.” He fondled his turgid organ and thrust his hips toward her provocatively. “I’m gonna give you all of this, little girl, and there ain’t nobody gonna stop me.”

  Panic threatened to choke Mesa before he finally stopped; his body nearly touching hers, the smell of his musky sweat, his disgusting lust and stale alcohol breathe causing terror to close her throat. She tried to twist away and slapped futilely at his hands as they reached for her and hauled her against him.

  Mesa moaned as fear that seemed stuck in her throat threatened to choke her. He intended to rape her and there was no one around to help. She turned her head to one side as he tried to capture her mouth. “No,” she managed to plead. “Please, no.” She pushed against his hairy chest until he caught her hands and forced the
m behind her and then he captured them in one large paw and held them painfully tight.

  His other hand slipped over her buttocks, forcing her hips against his engorged arousal. “You’re gonna like it,” he growled. “But not as much as me. I been saving this up just for you.”

  He pushed her body back against the dresser, holding her there with his body, his hands now free to wander over her body, grasping at her breasts and pushing between her legs, totally ignoring her slaps and her hands pushing against his bare chest.

  Tears slipped unnoticed down her cheeks and she struggled weakly against his unwanted groping of her inexperienced body. “I’ll scream,” she sobbed, managing at last to speak around the lump of panic in her throat.

  He chuckled. “Go ahead. Shirley’s plastered and will never hear you. I made sure of it.”

  Mesa slapped him and her head snapped backward when he slapped her in retaliation.

  “You want it rough? Fine by me, it just makes me hotter.” By now, he’d ripped open the front of her best dress and shoved her bra up leaving her young breasts bare. His hand closed over one naked mound and she screamed. He grunted as he pulled her with him across the room to the bed and shoved her back down to the mattress. She screamed again as he forced one knee between her legs and forced them apart. “I’m gonna have me some of that,” he grunted, his hand plunging below the front of her dress, not caring that it ripped open entirely down past the waistline. He pushed his hand still lower, past the band of her panties.

  Mesa’s fury unexpectedly obscured her fear. This drunken slob intended to rape her and there no one but her to prevent it. If she allowed this to happen, she’d never get over it! She didn’t know how empowering anger was, until now. With her nails, she clawed at his face and when he raised up, one of her hands shot downward and fastened on his testicles. Desperately, she fisted her hand firmly around his sensitive gonads, knowing this might be her only means of escape.

  He screamed as she tightened her grip, squeezing his sensitive organs hard and the slap she received nearly knocked her out. He cursed, releasing her as he sat back on the bed, examining his delicate, excruciating scrotum cautiously.

  Lifting one leg, she shoved it roughly into his naked chest, pushing him back and as he fell to the floor, she scrambled off the bed and tried to bolt, but the locked door slowed her.

  Melvin caught her and pulled her back. “I ought to beat you senseless,” he muttered and began dragging her back to the bed. When he turned her to face him again, she never hesitated. She drew one knee up into his groin with every bit of power she could muster and shoved against his chest with strength borne of desperation. He cried out again and stumbled back again. Never a graceful being, he was impaired by his drunkenness and his feet tangled together, causing him to fall backward, his head striking the corner of her dresser with enough force to make a loud cracking sound. Panicked again, Mesa fought the lock on the door and jerked it open. Only then did she realize he was still laying on the floor, soundless and still. She hesitated when she turned and looked at him. No movement! No sound! No sign of life!

  “Oh my..,” she groaned, watching to see if any rise and fall of his chest would suggest he was still breathing. From this distance, she couldn’t tell and the thought of moving closer terrified her. She watched from as close as she dared and saw no movement. Her heart constricted. He was dead! She had killed Melvin! In her mind she saw her mother pointing a rigid finger at her and the word murderer swirled in her head, her breath coming in short gasps. She couldn’t stay here! Moving with as much speed as her trembling hands allowed, she rushed to her closet, snatched clothes off hangers and jammed them into a small overnight bag she kept for her week-ends at Jenny’s house. She snatched the destroyed dress off and frantically pulled on jeans and a tee shirt.

  Thoughts of Jenny filled her mind. She wanted to tell her friend what happened, but if she did that, one thing would lead to another and Uci would insist she stay with them until this mess could be cleared up. Cleared up? Her own mother would be the first to accuse her. She couldn’t stay here and end up in prison. She shook her head negatively. As much as she wanted to tell Jenny, she couldn’t involve her friend in this.

  Panic coursing through her heart, she looked around the room she’d occupied her entire life. She had to go! Go where? Away was all that mattered right now. Away from Oak Ridge, away from everything and everyone she knew, and away from having killed a man. After she snatched up the guitar that her father had taught her to play, she took the overnight bag and eased out the door. She took one last look at Melvin’s still form on the floor; her heart dropped when she saw a dark stain forming from the wound on the back of his head.

  Mesa crept quietly into her mother’s room, although she didn’t understand why she thought she needed to be silent. Neither her screams nor her fight with Melvin had aroused her mother from the drunken stupor that imprisoned her in the bed. Mesa decided the quiet was to assuage her own guilt for ransacking her mother’s purse and pockets for any cash she found. She managed to find a couple of hundred dollars and the keys to her mother’s SUV, but when she came across Melvin’s wallet on her mother’s dresser, she didn’t hesitate to take the five one hundred-dollar bills she found in it. After what he’d put her through, he owed it to her.

  She’d killed him only while defending herself and from now on, she wouldn’t allow herself to feel any guilt. She stuffed the wad of bills into the pocket of her jeans.

  Out in the hallway, she picked up the overnight bag and the guitar and hurried down the steps. When she pulled the front door closed behind her, she allowed herself a last look around. She’d grown up here, on this ranch. The Rocking H had always been her home and she loved it. As a child, she’d been happy here. Back then Shirley had actually been a caring mother. Back then before her daddy got killed and her mother had gotten lost in alcohol. She looked down toward the huge barn, back toward the lake where Uncle Rance was sleeping in his tiny cabin. She was tempted to go to him for help, but murder was something no one could protect her from. She couldn’t involve those people she loved and that didn’t leave her a lot of options. She slipped her meager belongings into the SUV and drove to the interstate where she parked it at a truck stop, leaving the keys in the ignition. Splurging for a cab, she asked to be taken to the bus station and once there she purchased a ticket east. Mesa left her childhood behind.

  Chapter 1

  He yawned and rubbed his hands across his eyes, trying to push away the grainy droop that made them harder and harder to keep open. It had been a long day and an even longer night, but if the tip he’d gotten earlier today proved out, he could take a serial rapist out of action for a really long time. It would be worth it and once he had that jerk locked up, he could sleep until the cows came home.

  A movement in the shadow of the big oak tree beside the house caught his attention and just that fast all feelings of weariness were swished away by a rush of adrenalin that shot through his body. He keyed the walkie-talkie in his hand twice, a prearranged signal to the deputy hidden in the house. A single click from the receiving officer let him know that everything was set and waiting.

  “Did you see the movement under the tree?” Levi Lost Bull whispered through the downed window that Rafe’s left elbow was resting in. Levi stood in the shadows close to the old truck that was their unmarked surveillance vehicle for the night. Down the street on the next block a dog barked, the sound carrying in the thin night air.

  Rafe nodded and grunted a nearly silent, “Yeah. Krystal’s waitin’ for ‘im to make an entrance.”

  The rusty, dented, old truck had been parked in the garage of the house across the street for most of the day. The garage door had been missing for over a year, so it made a great spot for a stakeout. The darkness covered their presence and the street light just down the block offered enough light to allow their surveillance.

  Late last night Jarvis Mapes had been brought in for questioning about a string of burglaries
and earlier this morning he’d made a plea deal. He’d named a neighborhood, he swore, was the next target of the rapist that had half the women in this small rural town afraid to go to bed at night, in exchange for a lesser charge.

  As Sheriff of Morgan County, Rafter Storm Horse had called every officer he had available into plain clothes surveillance throughout this particular neighborhood of town. He was sure that Susan Markham was the intended victim. Now that he finally knew which neighborhood the rapist was planning to target, Rafe was positive she was the one. Susan wasn’t the only woman in the neighborhood that fit the profile that the rapist was drawn to, but she was probably the one best known around town. Susan had worked at the grocery store since she graduated from high school year before last and was still single. She lived alone in a small apartment of a refurbished older house on the ground floor. She would be the easiest for the rapist to access. She was now safely ensconced in the local hotel, courtesy of the town council.

  Rafe watched as the shadowy figure moved along the side of the house, keeping his body close to the building. He paused at each window and when he reached the one closest to the front porch, Rafe smiled. He knew the prowler would find that window unlocked. He’d made sure of it. Sure enough, he and Levi watched as the darkly clad figure pushed the window up and climbed silently inside. Again Rafe keyed the walkie-talkie two times. He got no reply, but didn’t expect one. He knew Krystal Montgomery was now tucked into Susan’s bed, her gun in her hand, waiting for the rapist to attack. In the closet of that same room, Deputy John Montgomery, her husband, stood silently waiting for the same thing.

  Rafe pushed open the well-oiled door of the old truck from which the interior light had long ago been removed and stepped out. He borrowed Levi’s walkie-talkie and spoke softly into it. The rest of the department was on a different channel than his and Montgomery’s walkies so there was no chance that the rapist would hear him. “Move in quietly. I want everyone ready to pile into that house when we hear John start shoutin’.” As he spoke, he and Levi scurried across the street and eased up onto the porch. Knowing the rapist had always entered the houses through an open window, he’d arranged for the doors to be left unlocked, as well as the window the prowler had used, and now his bet would pay off. He pulled his gun from the leather holster and waited for only a minute before he heard Krystal shout and the hard thud of John slamming the door open as he burst out of the closet and into the bedroom to assist his wife.