Ted Wellman had seen the redheaded woman when she came into the store with the rest of the folks who had gotten off the bus. She was a striking woman who carried herself like a runway model. He’d wondered why someone as beautiful as she was would take a bus rather than a plane. For several minutes after she disappeared into the ladies’ restroom, he tried to figure out what television show or movie he had seen her on, and finally came up with an answer. She’d been on a couple of episodes of Chuck, a series that he and his brother, John, had watched several times. A closer look her way told him that she wasn’t the character, Carina, so he went back to watching the people through the plate-glass window as he drank his coffee.
Then she came out of the restroom, locked eyes with him, and acted as if she knew him. Whoever she was, she was going to be embarrassed when she found out he didn’t have the first idea who she was or where he’d seen her before.
“Hi, honey,” she said, loudly enough for the two policemen behind her to hear. She reached across the table and laid a hand on his. “Please help me,” she whispered. “Please say I’m with you.”
Her green eyes looked desperate, even though a fake smile was plastered on her face.
Ted wasn’t sure what to do. Could this be one of those television shows where they videotaped practical jokes on unsuspecting people? He just wanted to finish his coffee, get in his trusty old truck, and go back across the Red River to Ryan, Oklahoma. He damn sure wasn’t the right person for anyone to be playing a joke on.
“Please,” she whispered again as two policemen zeroed in on him and started toward them. “I just need a little help for a few minutes.”
“Excuse me,” the older policeman drawled. “Could I have a word with you?”
“Sure,” Ted answered. “What’s the problem, sir?”
“I’m Sheriff Bud Tucker and this is my deputy, Tommy Stevens. Who are you, gal?” He turned his focus toward the woman.
“Why do you want to know?” Ted asked.
The woman squeezed his hand and looked like any minute she would burst into tears. Ted flashed a smile her way and thought of his brother, John. There was no question in his mind that John would have helped this woman—no matter what she had done to bring the cops sniffing around. John had always been the daredevil twin, and that had gotten him killed a few years ago. For some reason, Ted thought of those bracelets that were still around. WWJD stood for What Would Jesus Do, but he always thought of the letters standing for What Would John Do. Ted and John were inseparable, looked so much alike their mother could hardly tell them apart, and part of Ted’s heart died the day his brother was killed.
WWJD? the pesky voice in his head asked.
Ted didn’t even have to think about it. He knew what John would do.
Bud, the sheriff, had turned back to Ted. “Well?” he demanded.
“I’m sorry. What was the question?” Ted asked.
“Who is this woman?” Bud asked. “We were told to be on the lookout for a runaway from down around Sweetwater. A woman burglarized her benefactors’ home and took things that don’t belong to her, plus she’s got some mental problems. Her name is Cassie Stewart and her uncle, Cecil Gorman, the man who she has stolen from, has filed a missing person’s report. According to him, she is tall, has red hair and green eyes, and is possibly headed north. He is looking for a picture of her to put with the report. It should come up on our computers anytime now.”
Ted shook his head and said the first thing that came to his mind. “Sorry, guys. This is my girlfriend. We drove down here from Ryan, Oklahoma. Actually, we spent last night in Waco where we picked up some oil-well parts for my dad.”
The sheriff drew his eyes down and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh, really! Something tells me that you’re lying to me, son.”
“No, sir. Cassie is my girlfriend, and”—he searched for something believable—“and we’re going to get married today.”
Good Lord, Brother, you didn’t have to go that far! John’s chuckle was so real in Ted’s head that he glanced out the window to see if his brother was standing outside.
He was shocked when the words came out of his mouth and wondered if he’d actually said them. He cleared his throat and went on. “My name is Ted Wellman. My dad is Clayton Wellman, and he owns oil wells in this area. You might know him.”
“Of course, I know Clayton. I host a poker game every few months and he joins us,” the sheriff said.
“Where is this uncle who’s saying Cassie”—Ted hoped he got that name right—“stole things from him?”
“Down near Sweetwater, Texas,” the sheriff answered. “You sure this is your girlfriend?”
“Yes, sir, I am,” Ted answered. “We’ve been dating for two years, but Cassie only has one uncle, and he lives up in Waurika, Oklahoma. He’s about ninety and in a nursing home.”
His lies just got bigger and bigger, but there was no backing out at this point.
The sheriff seemed to relax a bit, but then he smiled. Ted didn’t know which was scarier—the hard-ass sheriff or the nice one. One could put him in jail for aiding and abetting a thief who had mental issues. The nice one could try to trip him up, and he’d end up in jail for the same reason.
“So, you’re Clayton Wellman’s son?” Bud cocked his head to one side and stared hard at Ted. “I can see that now. You look like him when he was younger. He’s some poker player. I still owe him a hundred dollars that I haven’t paid back.”
“I’ll tell him I saw you,” Ted said. “Bud Tucker, right?”
Bud hitched his thumbs in his gun belt and swayed back and forth. “That’s right, and because he plays a mean hand of poker and I know him, I’m going to do you kids a favor. My brother is the justice of the peace down in Montague. I’ll just lead the way in my cruiser, and you two kids can get married in his office right across the street from the courthouse. And while you’re getting hitched, I’ll get you a room at a hotel in Nocona for the night. My sister runs a little motel over there. When you get home, you tell your dad that Bud Tucker paid that hundred dollars he owed him, and that I’m ready for another poker game when he gets back down here.”
Cassie squeezed Ted’s hand even harder, but he couldn’t change the game now. If he did, the sheriff would win. Cassie would lose. He would get put away so far away that not even his uncle Ash, the family lawyer, wouldn’t be able to bail him out.
