LITMIR.BIZ

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me. Someone should have put a brick on your head ten years ago, Deputy Weathers.”

      Fifth gave up any attempt at conversation and headed toward the sheriff’s office. He couldn’t help it if his father had cursed him with height and his mother hadn’t been able to think of a name for her fifth son, so she’d just called him a number. Everyone had crazy families. His was simply supersized.

      “Sheriff Brigman is not in there,” Pearly announced, about the time he reached the door. “He’s out on the Kirkland Ranch. Said to bring the missing-persons flyers for the past month and maps of the county. Wants your help as soon as possible, so I’d suggest you start backtracking all the way to your car.”

      Fifth thought of asking her why she hadn’t let him know right away. She could have radioed the cruiser he drove, called his cell or dialed the bed-and-breakfast where he’d overslept this morning. But he knew what Pearly’s answer would be if he asked: she always said that she’d been about to. The woman’s about to list would last her into the hereafter.

      He turned and walked back past her desk, trying not to notice how she leaned away like he’d accidentally knock her down on his way out.

      A few minutes later he climbed into his cruiser, wondering why some people treated men over six-six like they were alien invaders. Men who were six-four were apparently fine, but grow a few more inches and you’re out of the normal zone. It also didn’t help that deputies in Texas wore boots and Stetsons. That added another three or four inches.

      When he’d played football in college, his height hadn’t been a problem. But now anyone lower by a foot seemed to think he might just accidentally bop them on the head. He’d made it through the academy and had served two years as a deputy without accidentally killing anyone.

      As he drove toward the Double K Ranch that had been in the Kirkland family over a hundred years, Fifth Weathers tried to relax. He’d been in Crossroads since Sheriff Brigman was shot and almost killed two years ago.

      At first it had been just a job, a chance to step out of a big office and work with a sheriff everyone in Texas respected. But lately, it was more than that. He was starting to care about the people. He’d matured from a green rookie looking for excitement to a seasoned officer who hoped never to have to pull his weapon again.

      That is, if shooting a snake counted as a first time.

      For the most part, the folks in the county were good, honest citizens who loved to tease him once they figured out he was on the shy side. The grocer offered to stack his daughters if Fifth would take both of them out. The Franklin sisters, who ran the bed-and-breakfast, were always trying to match him up with one of their relatives because they claimed the family tree could use the height. And from what he’d seen, Franklins tended to grow out instead of up.

      Fifth wouldn’t have minded having a date. It had been a while. But even in college, when girls flocked around athletes, he hadn’t gone out much. He’d always felt awkward and never knew the right thing to say.

      He blamed his mother for his awkwardness around women. You’d think with a dozen pregnancies she could have popped out one girl so her sons could learn to relate.

      When he turned onto Kirkland land, Fifth put his problems aside and was all business. If the sheriff was here, there must be something wrong. Staten Kirkland was a good man who ran his ranch like a small kingdom. He wouldn’t be calling the law in on something minor.

      Dan Brigman was on the porch talking to the rancher. All signs that Brigman had taken four bullets in an ambush were gone: the sheriff looked fit and strong; his hair had grayed to the color of steel, and his eyes always seemed to look right into the heart of folks. Fifth could think of no better goal than to model his career after this legend of a man.

      “About time you arrived,” Dan said with a hint of a smile that told Fifth he wasn’t in any serious trouble this time.

      “Sorry, sir. I overslept.” Fifth climbed the steps and offered his hand to Kirkland.

      Dan nodded once. “I thought you might when I passed the office around midnight and saw the lights still on.”

      “You’re working the kid too hard,” Kirkland said as he shook Fifth’s hand. “Come on inside, Deputy. We’ve got coffee and cinnamon rolls waiting. I need to show Dan the map in my office before we start planning.”

      “Thanks,” Fifth answered politely, grateful that he didn’t have to admit that right now he was far more interested in the rolls and coffee than looking at any map. Caffeine and sugar should wake him up.

      Fifth followed the two men through the massive double doors of the Kirkland headquarters as they talked about the weather. The sound of their boots thumping across the hardwood floor blended with the jingle of spurs Kirkland wore.

      Fifth had been at the headquarters a few times before. A New Year’s party. A meeting of the new city planning committee. He liked the big old home, and it was one of the few places he didn’t have to watch his head. The Kirklands were tall and built their house to accommodate.

      The main room was a forty-foot-long living area built with mahogany and leather. A dining area to the left had a table that would seat thirty. Kirkland’s huge office opened through double doors on the right, and a modern country kitchen was in the back.

      The house reminded him of a remade set from the movie Giant. Pure Texas. Western, all the way.

      Only it didn’t seem like a house that people lived in. It was the headquarters, set up for work and meetings. Fifth had heard that the family lived in a smaller place a few hundred yards away, which made sense. Kirkland had two toddlers, and no one would want to have to chase them all over this amount of square footage.

      Fifth had just begun to feel his muscles relaxing when he turned the corner off the main room and saw Kirkland’s wife, Quinn, sitting at the kitchen table, talking to a woman about his age.

      The stranger had short, reddish-brown hair, naturally curly, and blue eyes; she was dressed in a leather jacket and tan pants with boots laced almost to her knees. For a second he thought she looked like Amelia Earhart. Then he added one more fact as she turned directly to him and glared.

      One look at him and, for some reason, the woman seemed to become angry as hell.

      For a second, Fifth fought the urge to step back, maybe all the way to the door. Maybe farther. He might not have a lot of experience with women, but he could see rage flashing in her icy-blues like white-hot lightning. Take cover or run seemed to be the safest options.

      The anger didn’t fit until he watched her slowly stand. He added one last statistic. Over six feet tall. The possibility they’d both stepped into a match-up trap occurred to him, just as it probably had to her.

      Quinn just grinned, but Kirkland made the introductions. “Fifth, I’d like you to meet my wife’s niece, Madison O’Grady.” Now Kirkland was grinning, obviously unaware that his kin was firing a look that might kill the only deputy for miles around. “We asked her to come in this morning. Thought you two might like to get acquainted.”

      “Welcome, Miss O’Grady.” Fifth removed his hat and offered his hand, hoping she didn’t bite it off.

      The sheriff slapped his deputy on the shoulder. “So...ah...enjoy your coffee and rolls, Deputy. We’ll be back before you finish.” At least Brigman had the sense not to grin.

      Quinn, Staten and the sheriff vanished, leaving him alone with the angry woman. The instinct to run was so strong he couldn’t get his tongue untied enough to speak.

      Without asking if he wanted one, she poured him a cup of coffee and slid it across the table, not seeming to notice, or care, that boiling liquid spilled out.

      He sat down. He’d had women look at him with total disinterest, or sometimes even with fear because of his size, but he’d never been the kind of guy to bring out hate—or passion, for that matter—in anyone. In fact, he’d always kind of thought that women his age viewed him as a friend more than anything else. He

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