“You really think Rusty will lay this on you?”

“Likely. I did go out there to Hawkins’s place.”

“Against my advice.”

“Don’t piss me off by saying you told me so.”

Don sighed. “We’ll take it up later. What do you need me to do?”

“Top priority, take care of yourself. Carry on like it’s any other day, but round up some longtime customers you trust. Good ol’ boys.”

“The ones who pack.”

Ledge appreciated that Don didn’t need it spelled out for him. “Nobody who has any ties or loyalty to Rusty or the late sheriff.”

“There are a few retired Texas Rangers around, any of which would’ve loved to have had a crack at the both of them.”

“Good. But no rough stuff unless it becomes necessary. Just have them hang around for a couple of days and nights, and keep their eyes and ears open. Have them covering your back and discreetly patrolling the property.”

“I understand.”

“Sleep with that shotgun.”

“Even with the scattergun, I can’t hit the broad side of a barn, you know.”

“I know, but whoever you point it at won’t.”

“What’s the plan after you’ve seen Henry?”

“To put Rusty out of commission.”

“How do you plan—”

“Gotta go.” He hung up before Don could ask how he intended to do that.

But Arden did. From behind him, she asked, “Are you going to do that by fair means or foul?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll have to see how it plays out. You ready?”

She gave him a mutinous look as she shouldered past him and went out through the back door. He set the security alarm but, as he left, he wondered if his house and workshop would still be standing when he returned. Rusty might make good on his threat, except burn his house down rather than the bar.

By the time he got to his pickup, Arden had already climbed in. She sat as rigid as an I-beam, staring through the windshield, which was being speckled with fresh rain.

Ledge left her to stew and placed another call.

George answered with a cheerful, “Hey, Cap’n. How’s—”

“Cutting to the chase this morning, George.”

He reacted to Ledge’s tone immediately. “What’s up?”

“The dude?”

“With the boots?”

“I’ve got a situation with him.”

“Tell me where. Give me an hour.”

That was a friend. Ledge felt a tug on the inside. “Thanks, but I need you where you are. This asshole and I have a long history. He could soon drop a lot of shit on me, but he’ll do it in a roundabout way. His practice is to prey on the defenseless.”

“Like your uncle Henry.”

“I’m coming to see him as soon as I can. I’ll give you the background details then, but, George, I need you to keep a hawk’s eye on him. When duty calls, please assign a staffer you know and trust to sit with him. Nobody who isn’t authorized goes into his room.”

“On it. What else?”

“Let me know if the dude, or anybody who doesn’t belong there, shows up. I need to know immediately.”

“Copy that.”

“Thanks, man. Later.” He clicked off.

“George is also former military?” Arden said.

He nodded. “Hard core.”

“I could tell by the way you talk to each other.”

“How’s that?”

“Like combat soldiers.” She motioned to his cell phone, which he’d placed in the cup holder. “I believe you’ve covered everyone.”

“I haven’t covered anybody. But at least I’ve put them on guard until I settle this with Rusty.”

“What this, Ledge?”

Feeling the weightiness of her stare, he said, “I’ll tell you when we get to your house.”

The rain held off, but bluish, potbellied clouds made for a low ceiling and mistimed twilight. Arden unlocked her back door and went inside, but she didn’t switch on the overhead kitchen light, leaving the room appropriately gloomy.

She set her purse on the table and turned to face him.

“Do you want to sit?” he asked.

“No.”

“Well, I do.” He pulled out a chair, rotated it, and straddled it backward. He clasped his hands on the back of it and addressed them rather than looking at her. “I was in on the Welch’s burglary.”

A gust of breath escaped her, but she didn’t speak.

“Along with Rusty. It was his idea. He recruited the rest of us to help him execute his plan. That’s why our digging into the crimes has him off the rails.”

He looked up at her then, and she appeared to be on the verge of boiling over. Her chest was swelling and collapsing like a bellows. She had shut her eyes tightly. When she reopened them, they were shiny with tears of the furious kind.

“You…you—”

“I’m no hero. I told you that.”

“It’s the only truth you’ve told me.”

She turned away from him and went over to the sink. Bracing her hands on the rim, she bent at the waist. He feared she was about to throw up, but her silence attested to a forced containment of emotions, and that was almost worse than retching or ranting would have been.

A drum roll of thunder shook the house. Fat raindrops began to slap against the window above the sink. His wristwatch ticked loudly, reminding him that he should be well on his way to Marshall. But he couldn’t just drop this on her and bail. She deserved time to absorb his revelation and grasp the pervasive dishonesty it represented. She deserved an opportunity to vent her rage.

Whatever form it took would be lighter than he deserved.

Eventually she turned on the faucet and scooped several handfuls of cold water into her mouth. Her movements angry and abrupt, she ripped a paper towel off the roll, blotted her mouth, and dried her hands. She left the towel balled up on the counter, came over and dragged a chair from beneath the table, and sat down across from him.

“You ingratiated yourself into my life.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To protect you from Rusty.”

She spurted a harsh laugh. “When you were the one I needed protection from.”