Chapter Two

Talking with her new commanding officer had been fun. Thankfully, Captain James had already informed the Marshal's service of the situation. Still, they requested Charlotte come in ASAP to sign off on paperwork to make everything official. Now, she was finally on her way back to Cordell. But as she approached the ranch, dusk had set in, and there was a truck parked with the driver's door open, sitting in the road. Another truck blocked the laneway further up.

A wave of unease washed over her, and she pulled the truck to the side of the road. Reaching for the radio, she brought the microphone to her lips.

"This is Deputy U.S. Marshal Charlotte Givens. Who's on this frequency?"

"Deputy, this is the Texas Rangers' dispatch."

"I suspect fugitive Clint West may be on the property, or with Texas Ranger Cordell Walker. I'm going in to check it out, but I would like to request backup be sent out, without confirmation."

"Right away, Deputy. Be advised, Ranger Walker was involved in a bank heist earlier today, and it may take us some time to get there."

"Cordell robbed a bank?" Charlotte asked in disbelief. "That can't be right."

"That's what I thought, but looks like the FBI's after him. Be careful, Marshal."

"I always am." She dropped the microphone and got out of the truck. Grabbing her tactical vest from the passenger seat, she put it on, then opened the back door. "You better have a rifle in here, Walker."

After some searching, she lifted the backseat and found Cordell's Ranger-issued gear along with weapons, a pistol, rifle bag and tactical gear. She preferred her Glock 22 to the standard issue Ranger pistol, but if given the choice she would always choose the rifle—a weapon with devastating power, yet strangely calming in her hands.

Charlotte grabbed the rifle bag and inspected the scope and ammo before throwing her hat onto the passenger seat. Then she closed the door quietly and disappeared into the roadside brush. After leaving the road, she set up the rifle, double-checking that everything was ready—scope adjusted, ammo loaded, strap over her shoulder. Then, she started her noiseless advance towards the house.

From her vantage point, Charlotte spotted two men patrolling the grounds, both carrying automatic rifles. She had no intel on what was happening inside, how many hostages there were, or how many gunmen. She was operating blind and alone. But luck was on her side—the front door opened, and another gunman walked out, followed by an older woman, an older man, and two younger people: August and Stella. Behind them, another gunman pushed them to their knees on the lawn.

Charlotte's attention shifted to a scruffy blond man being led out by a young boy—Clint's son, she guessed. And then Cordell appeared, a pistol at his back, held by none other than Clint West himself. Thankfully, Charlotte had read through the Rodeo King's file at the Marshal's office earlier, so she knew exactly who she was dealing with.

As Cordell was presented with his family on the lawn, Charlotte couldn't hear what was being said, but had a good idea Clint was deciding which life to take in exchange for his dead wife. When no one else came out of the house, Charlotte made her move. She positioned herself by a tree, setting her rifle on a low-hanging branch. She knew from experience that taking out the lackeys first was the best strategy—they tended to get the most trigger-happy. Clint would likely take a hostage rather than shoot outright, and she could deal with that later. But she needed to drop the men before sirens got close.

She took a deep breath, steadying her rifle on the first target. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze. Without waiting to see the results, she pivoted and aimed at the second man, who hadn't yet noticed his comrade fall and was more worries about where the sound had come from. Inhale. Exhale. Squeeze.

Charlotte saw Clint point his gun in the air, looking around. The two patrolmen from her right rushed in. Without hesitation, she dropped them both. When she returned her sights to Clint, he had Stella in front of him, a gun pressed to her side. Cordell had knocked the boy down in the chaos and now held a gun, though it dangled from his finger in surrender.

"WHOEVER'S OUT THERE, COME OUT NOW!" Clint's voice echoed through the air.

Cordell moved, raising his hands toward Clint, sidestepping and forcing Clint to turn ever so slightly. It gave Charlotte a small shooting window. Cordell's voice was louder now. "Clint, it doesn't have to get any worse. Let Stella go. Please."

Charlotte readied her rifle and took aim.

"I trust you," Cordell called out.

Clint opened his mouth as if to question Cordell, but before he could speak, he was falling to the ground. The rifle shot rang through the air.

Charlotte lowered her weapon and watched as Cordell rushed to Stella, wrapping her in his arms as she cried into his shirt. Her sobs mixed with the wail of approaching sirens. Slinging her rifle over her shoulder, Charlotte emerged from the treeline and headed toward the family, watching as they embraced each other.

When she got closer, all eyes turned to her. Cordell, still holding Stella, looked directly at Charlotte. "Told you I had a feeling there'd be a firefight."

"Thank you for not missing," Cordell said, his voice strained.

"My trust exercises don't seem so ridiculous now, do they?"

Stella pulled away from her father and hugged Charlotte. "Thank you for saving me, again."

"Anytime, kid," Charlotte replied, gently pushing her back. "But let's not make a habit of it, okay?"

Stella let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I'd like that."

As the lights of the emergency vehicles surrounded them, paramedics, Rangers, and Marshals descended on the scene. It was chaotic for the next three hours, with Cordell's mother going with his brother to the hospital and the remnants of the showdown being washed away—literally, by Cordell and a garden hose.

"That was some impressive shooting, little lady." Cordell's father, Bonham, approached with a beer, smiling. "Bonham Walker."

"Deputy U.S. Marshal Charlotte Givens," she replied, accepting the beer. "Thanks."

"I have to say, you took a big risk with my granddaughter, taking that shot."

"I don't miss," Charlotte said confidently.

"Big claim."

"I'm good at my job." She took a swig, her eyes meeting Cordell's.

Bonham chuckled. "Cordell, put down the hose and come here!" he called to his son, holding out a beer in his direction.

Reluctantly, Cordell turned off the tap, walked over, took the offered beer and sat down beside Charlotte on the bench.

"We owe you a lot, Charlotte," Bonham began, leaning forward.

"I was just doing my job, sir."

"Job or not, you saved my family. And us Walkers won't forget that."

Cordell chuckled. "He's right. You're one of the family now. Get ready for Sunday dinners and Christmas cards."

Charlotte looked at the two of them with a smirk. "Hey, I've got no one out here, and I'm a terrible cook."

"Your husband's not joining you?" Bonham asked, pointing to her ring.

Charlotte stretched out her left hand, staring at the ring. "We're separating. Needed some distance so we can both heal."

"Sorry to hear that."

"It is what it is," she said, shrugging before taking another sip. "Now that I'm in horse country, maybe I'll finally learn to ride one."

Bonham laughed. "You're telling me you wear those boots and that hat and have never ridden a horse?" He gave a raised brow and a point to the hat that once again sat atop Charlotte's head.

"Hey, the boots are comfy, and the hat was a gift from my father."

Bonham stood to leave. "It was a pleasure, Charlotte. See you Sunday."

As he disappeared into the house, Charlotte turned to Cordell. "Please tell me it's not always like this?"

"I'd like to say no, but trouble keeps finding me."

"Good to know." She smiled. "So, I got here in your truck."

Cordell glanced around. "And now everyone's gone."

"Yeah."

"Well, the kids are staying here". Cordell threw a thumb over his shoulder towards the doorway of the farmhouse. "You can take Stella's bed at our place. It's just down the road. I'll drive you back in tomorrow. I've been told I need to deal with the review board and explain why I robbed a bank."

Charlotte leaned her head back, smiling at him. "You really robbed a bank?"

"I did. Not my first time, either."

"I thought leaving Kentucky would bring me some peace and quiet."

Cordell shifted closer. "Thank you again. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up. I owe you."

"Cordell…"

"No, I need to say this. You took out four men and then shot past my daughter to hit the man holding her hostage. I haven't been able to trust anyone since my wife died, but tonight, I trusted you. Why?"

Charlotte felt Cordell's hand rest on hers. She intertwined her fingers with his. "You know my darkest secret, Cordell Walker. We have a bond now."

Cordell placed their beer bottles aside. "Let me show you the farmhouse."

The door had barely shut before Cordell's lips were on hers, her hat tossed aside by him in the heat of the moment. Charlotte wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair, as her back hit the wall with a thud. Cordell's hands slid down her waist, gripping her thighs as he lifted her off the ground. Instinctively, she wrapped her legs around his midsection, anchoring herself as she pulled her face away, breathless.

"Wait…" she managed, her voice a whisper.

"Charlotte?" Cordell's voice was low, his chest heaving.

"I…" Her words faltered as her eyes darted from his gaze to his lips, then back again. "What if I'm…"

His expression softened, and a quiet chuckle escaped him. "Darlin', tonight ain't about me."

"Oh," Charlotte whispered, her eyes widening.

With a smirk, Cordell leaned in close, brushing his thumb gently against her cheek. "Let me show you just how thankful I am."

"I've got scars..." she admitted, her voice barely above a murmur.

"Me too, darlin'. Me too."

Their eyes locked for a moment, before Charlotte brought her lips back to his. Cordell held her firmly as he carried her through the house, and when he set her down, it was in the bedroom. Wordlessly, Charlotte watched as Cordell slipped her Marshal's badge from the waistband of her jeans, followed by her holster and pistol. He walked over to place them carefully on a dresser, then turned back to her with a grin.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he said, his tone teasing.

"And you're talking too much," she shot back, pulling him down into another heated kiss.