“What for?”

“Protest march. There were numerous arrests. At her arraignment, she pled guilty, paid the fine.”

“What was she protesting?”

“A colleague was jailed for contempt of court because he wouldn’t reveal a source. She was guilty of passion for her profession and First Amendment rights, and that’s as sinister as she gets, Trapper.

“She’s square with the IRS. No debt other than her mortgage. Pays her bills on time. She’s ambitious. She’s got the goods. I gather an interview with The Major would be a real plum. End of story.”

Like hell it is, Trapper thought. “Anything else?”

“Nothing noteworthy. Bits and pieces. You want details, they’re in the email.”

“Thanks, Carson.”

“Can I get back to honeymooning now?”

“Just one more request.”

Carson groaned.

Trapper said, “Do this and then you can screw yourself blind.”

Chapter 4

Kerra brought her car to a stop within a few feet of the black SUV parked crosswise in the drive that led up to Major Franklin Trapper’s house. She left the motor running as she got out and cautiously approached the driver’s side of the truck.

Trapper, watching her through the side mirror, saw in her face the instant she recognized him as the person in the driver’s seat. She marched the rest of the way, and when she came even with the door, knocked hard on the window.

He lowered it. “Hi.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Testing you, to see if you meant it when you said you’d do this with or without my help. I didn’t think you’d be that foolish, but since it appears that you are …” He hitched his head back toward her car. “Follow me.”

She hesitated as though trying to decide whether to kill him, yell at him, or take advantage of his being here. She went with option three. She turned and stalked back to her car.

He waited until she was once again behind the wheel before dropping the SUV into forward gear and starting up the gravel drive.

The Major’s ranch house sat on a rise surrounded by a grove of trees now bare of leaves except for the conifers. Constructed of limestone and timber, the house was one-story with a steeply pitched roof. Square columns supported the overhang above the deep porch that ran the width of the house.

Trapper brought the SUV to a stop a short distance from the front steps and looked at each tall window along the porch. He was certain The Major was watching their approach through one of them, but he couldn’t see him because of the glare.

Kerra joined him as he alighted from the SUV. “Whose truck is this?”

“I borrowed it from a buddy.” Carson had come through on the second favor, setting Trapper up with a garage and body shop that would loan him a vehicle while his car was being repaired. Mounted on a monstrous set of off-road tires, the truck was tricked out with all the bells and whistles.

Kerra was gawking with appreciation at The Major’s house and surrounding landscape. “Would you look at this?” she murmured.

“I’ve seen it. You ready?”

She tilted her head back and used her hand to shade her eyes against the western sun. “It pains me to say it, Trapper, but I’m glad you’re with me. I’ve suddenly got stage fright. Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t thank me yet. He could still sic a pack of dogs on us.”

“He has a pack of dogs?”

He smiled grimly. “I have no idea.”

“When were you last here?”

“Few years.”

“What’s the quarrel between you?”

“You want to interview him or me?”

She shook her head in frustration and started up the steps ahead of him. Before she could knock on the front door it was pulled open, and there stood The Major.

Trapper could practically feel the sparks when his eyes clashed with his father’s. Neither would have backed down or broken the hard stare had it not been for Kerra’s intervention.

“Major Trapper?”

He looked down at her, then shocked both Trapper and her by smiling. “Hello, Kerra.”

She actually fell back a step. “You know me?”

“Of course. Channel six. I enjoy your reporting.”

“I’m flattered.” She reached across the threshold and shook hands with him. “Trapper was kind enough to escort me here. May we come in?”

Trapper didn’t call her on the fib. With only a slight hesitation, and a glance at Trapper, The Major backed away to allow them inside.

Kerra went ahead of Trapper. Under his breath, he said to her, “You didn’t need me to get you across his threshold, after all. Seems he’s a fan.”

The Major motioned them toward the sofa. Kerra sat. Trapper perched on the end of the upholstered arm. The Major asked if they wanted something to drink.

Trapper said, “No thanks.”

At the same time, Kerra replied, “Maybe later.”

The Major settled into his recliner. Wearing a frown of slight disapproval, he took in Trapper from head to toe, then asked, “How are you, John?”

“Good. You?”

“Can’t complain.”

After that, they had nothing to say to each other, and even that amount of compulsory politeness had been for Kerra’s benefit. Trapper would have left right then, except for his vital need to know how the next few minutes panned out.

The Major was regarding Kerra with a halfhearted scowl. “Are you the persistent young lady who’s been calling me these past months?”

“You’ve been just as persistent hanging up on me.”

“Had I known it was you—”

“You wouldn’t have hung up?”

“I would have,” he said, “but I’d have been more courteous.”

She laughed softly. “Well, no matter, I got the message that you didn’t wish to speak to me. My only recourse was to seek out Trapper and request an audience with you.”

The Major looked at Trapper. “Didn’t you explain to her that I don’t do interviews anymore?”

“About a dozen times.”

“Then why’d you bring her?” He looked at Kerra and softened his expression. “Even though I’m delighted to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

Breaking up the mutual admiration–fest, Trapper said, “I tried talking her out of it. She wouldn’t take no for an answer. Maybe she will from you. Tell her no, I’ll see her on her way, and go have one of Del Rancho’s chicken fried steak sandwiches. That might make it worth the trouble of having to drive up here.”

With annoyance, The Major shifted his attention away from Trapper and back to Kerra. “I don’t give interviews anymore.”

She held steady. “This would be an extraordinary interview.”

“They all say that.”

She smiled. “But in this case, it’s true.”

“How so?”

She bent down, extracted a printout of the photograph from her bag, then got up and carried it over to The Major. “It would be a reunion.”

“Reunion?” He took the photo from her but didn’t look at it. He was looking up at Kerra waiting for an explanation.

She leaned down and pointed to the girl in the picture. “Look closely at her face.”

Several minutes later Trapper left through the front door. Neither noticed his departure.

Trapper drove to the drive-in restaurant that had been there for as long as he could remember. It had withstood the invasion of fast-food chains and still offered curb service. He ate in the truck and listened to country on the radio.

The sandwich wasn’t famous for nothing. The battered, tenderized round steak was as big as a hubcap and extended beyond the edges of the bun. It was delicious, but every bite Trapper took went down with a lump of worry over what was happening back at The Major’s place, what kind of persuasion Kerra was applying, and how easily, or not, The Major would yield.

When he finished his meal, he drove toward the interstate to start his trip back to Fort Worth, but when he reached a crossroads, literally, he stopped and took out his phone. The number was in his contacts.