Free How to Handle a Cowboy by Joanne Kennedy Page A

turned out to be a criminal.
    But you never knew. He’d learned that at the academy. You never assumed anything.
    â€œI just figure when the sheriff comes to call, he’s got a reason.”
    He smiled his best smile, showing off his straight, even teeth. He knew he checked off all the boxes when it came to male attractiveness. Broad-shouldered physique? Check. Rugged features? Check. Blue eyes, blond hair? Check. A fine suit of clothes with creases straight as a Wyoming highway running up the legs? Double check. And his shoes were as shiny as a snake’s beady eye. He didn’t see how any woman could resist him.
    But this woman did. She didn’t even smile back.
    It was his business to know what went on in this town, and he knew she’d spent hours with Ridge Cooper the day before. Ridge Cooper, with his torn jeans and dirty boots. There was just no comparison.
    So why wasn’t she smiling?
    Evidently, she liked the Western type, so Jim leaned against the wall and crossed one leg over the other, the way he’d seen that sheriff on Longmire do it. “You’re from the city, aren’t you, honey?”
    She still didn’t smile. And he’d even called her honey. What was wrong with the woman?
    â€œI’m from Denver,” she said.
    Oh. Well, that explained it.
    He cleared his throat. “Well, here in Wynott, the law doesn’t wait until something’s wrong to show up. We believe in a preventive approach.” He pretended to pause on purpose while his mind scrambled around, searching for the words in the training manual he’d gotten at the academy. “It’s a new concept called community policing. We make an effort to get to know the citizens we protect.”
    He supposed the “we” part was a bit of an exaggeration, since he was the only law in the whole town. But it sounded better that way.
    â€œWould you like to talk in my office?” she asked.
    Did he catch a little wink there, or did he imagine it? He tipped his hat, just in case. “Sure, ma’am.”
    It wasn’t much of an office. It looked more like a closet. But she sat down behind a big, old metal desk, so he settled into the chair in front of it. The chair was broken, with one leg held together with a C-clamp. The whole place looked like a scratch-and-dent sale.
    He pinched the legs of his trousers as he sat down, tugging them up over his knees to avoid straining the fabric. It was time to get down to business.
    â€œNow,” he said, “I know you’ve got your hands full, and I aim to help you all I can.” He smiled again, encouraging her to trust him. “You tell me which boys are the biggest troublemakers, and I’ll keep an eye on them.”
    Was it his imagination, or did she look kind of grim? That cute little smile was nothing but a memory. Evidently, keeping an eye on these kids wasn’t nearly enough.
    â€œI could give ’em a good talking to if you want,” he continued. “Show ’em the jail cells in the old municipal building, do a Scared Straight kind of thing.”
    She sat back and folded her arms over her chest. It sure was a nice chest.
    â€œI thought the jail was shut down years ago,” she said.
    â€œThat’s the beauty of it,” Jim said. “Place looks downright spooky, and they don’t have to know we don’t use it.”
    â€œIt would probably give them nightmares.”
    There, now she was getting it. “Exactly.”
    â€œYou think that’s a good thing?”
    â€œSure do. Prevention is nine-tenths of the law.”
    She stared at him as if she was confused. Maybe she’d never heard that expression before. He did have a way with words.
    â€œSheriff, I don’t know what you’ve been told, but these are not bad kids. Their parents couldn’t take care of them for one reason or another, so they ended up in the foster care system through no fault of their own.