Free Lone Star Legacy by Roxanne Rustand

door of the café to find the man and his son leaning against their truck, scowling.
    “So what did you do,” the older man growled, jingling his truck keys in one hand, “empty out the place and dump it in your yard?”
    Mystified, she stepped outside onto the porch. “I know it’s a big job…”
    “Lady, this wasn’t our deal.” He motioned for his son to get back in the truck.
    “Wait—” She hurried down the porch stairs. He snorted and climbed behind the wheel. “Please!”
    And then she got a good look at her yard. From day one, there’d been the old VW car parts. A rusted-out car frame. Assorted junk thrown everywhere. She’d picked up most of the smaller things already, and had piled them neatly to one side.
    But now, the yard was awash in garbage. Countless bulging black plastic bags filled with garbage, many of them ripped open. A brisk breeze sent old newspapers flying down the street.
    The stack of refuse that she’d so carefully collected had been strewn across the yard, and in the center of her sidewalk was a pile of what could only be fresh cow manure.
    Her hand at her mouth, she turned slowly…only to find the front of the café had been spray-painted with graffiti, in bright red.
    The words were in Spanish, but even with her lack of fluency in the language, she knew the perpetrator had described her in the most graphic terms.
    Backing up, she sank onto the porch steps, wavering between tears and anger. Her caller had given her ten days, and this just wasn’t his style at any rate. So who else would want to cause her harm?
    In a town this size, someone surely must have an idea about who could’ve done it. And this time, she was calling the sheriff.

CHAPTER SEVEN

    D AN T ALBOT , the new sheriff, arrived a few hours later after being held up with a multicar accident on the highway in a distant part of the county. He appeared weary, dusty and not terribly impressed by the gravity of her problem when Beth gave him a tour of her yard.
    She didn’t blame him. After dealing with a fatality, this had to seem like a frivolous call.
    His deputy, an older man named Randy with hard eyes and a belly that strained the buttons of his shirt, kicked through the piles of garbage and bent down now and then to survey certain pieces. “I’d say someone got this out at the landfill, boss. Lotsa different addresses on the envelopes. As for the manure, that could be from any one of a dozen ranches in the area.”
    “I want you to ask around town, Randy, and check with the neighbors,” Talbot said. “Maybe someone saw something peculiar.”
    “There was a dark sedan parked out front early this morning with its lights off,” Beth said. “But I couldn’t see the make and model. And anyway, a car couldn’t have held all this trash.”
    He looked up from his clipboard, his pen poised. “Got any enemies in these parts? Anyone who might hold a grudge?”
    “Not here. I haven’t been here that long.”
    “Anyone who isn’t happy about you opening this place? Neighbors, who’ve been angry over the condition of the property?”
    “If they didn’t like the mess, why would they make it worse?” She shook her head. “Walt is my closest neighbor and he’s all for seeing this place cleaned up. There really aren’t any other neighbors back here, and I haven’t met many people yet. Just Walt, his nephew and the ladies at day care. I…just don’t know anyone else.”
    She looked up to find Sheriff Talbot studying her intently. “Think of someone, ma’am?”
    “I—I’ve had a crank caller…twice, since I moved here. But I have no idea who it is.”
    Talbot’s gaze sharpened. “Is he threatening you?”
    “Sort of, but I don’t think it has anything to do with all of this.” She debated about telling him the whole sordid story about Patrick, the embezzlement and the subsequent investigation, but there was really no point. “I think it’s a guy who called a couple times when I was still in