Finally dressed, Joanna once again examined her costume in the mirror. And it was a costume, she decided critically. She looked like a little girl dressed up in her father’s oversized clothes and about to go out trick-or- treating. The ill-fitting, pasted-together ensemble would never pass inspection with Eleanor Lathrop. For that reason alone, Joanna found herself almost liking it.
She was still standing in front of the mirror when Jenny came into the room. Except for slightly puffy eyes, all trace of her previous out burst had been seemingly scrubbed away.
Joanna spun around, giving Jenny the full effect of her outfit. “Well,” she asked, “what do you think?”
Jennifer wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“Daddy’s clothes are way too big for you,” she said.
Joanna shrugged off her daughter’s confidence sapping comment.
“Someday soon,” she said, “I guess we’ll have to go shopping for some clothes of my own. Are you ready to go? Did you feed and water the dogs?”
Stopping in front of the Bradys’ duplex a few minutes later, Joanna shifted into Park, set the emergency brake, and got out of the car. Meanwhile, Jenny was already on her way up the brick walkway. “Hey, wait a minute here, Jennifer Ann Brady,” Joanna said severely. “Since when don’t I get a hug?”
Dejected and dragging her feet, Jenny turned and came back. When Joanna hugged her, the child’s head thumped solidly against the hard surface of the Kevlar vest. Andy Brady had worn a vest like that to work for as long as Jennifer remembered. Recognizing the vest for what it was as soon as she bumped against it, the child stiffened and drew away.
“Wearing one of those didn’t help Daddy,” she said disparagingly. With that, Jenny darted up the walkway.
Dismayed, Joanna climbed back into the idling Eagle. This wasn’t at all how she had imagined her first day as sheriff of Cochise County. Rather than savoring triumph, she seemed to be losing ground at every turn. If winning could be this bad, losing must be hell.
And it didn’t get any better. When Joanna reached the turnoff to the Rocking P Ranch, a Cochise County Sheriff’s Department patrol car was parked sideways just inside the cattle guard, totally blocking the entrance. Marianne Macula’s sea-foam VW Bug was stopped on the shoulder of the highway. Reverend Macula herself, agitated and gesturing wildly, stood arguing with an impassive deputy, one Joanna didn’t instantly recognize, but from Dispatch’s information she guessed this to be Deputy Hollicker.
Joanna parked behind the VW and was surprised to hear Marianne’s usually calm voice rise to the level of shrill outrage. “What do you mean, no one’s allowed in? Ivy Patterson called me. She specifically asked me to come! I’m her pastor. I’m sure she called because she wants help making funeral arrangements.”
Hurrying to join the fray, Joanna heard the duty deputies dispassionate response. “Sorry, lady. Orders are orders.”
“Whose orders?” Joanna asked.
Together, both Marianne and the deputy turned toward Joanna. She had known Marianne Macula for years without ever seeing the woman this angry. Two vivid red splotches colored her cheeks, while her dark eyes crackled with emotion.
“He says no one’s allowed up at the house,” Marianne complained. “Can you believe it?”
The deputy’s glance took in Joanna’s appearance in one quick appraisal before settling warily on her holstered Colt, the nose of which peeked out from under the hem of her jacket.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you doing here?” They eyed one another, giving Joanna a chance to verify the name.
“Does the name Joanna Brady ring a belL Deputy Hollicker?” she asked, pulling aside the jacket enough so the badge showed. “The last time I heard, someone told me I was the new sheriff in this jurisdiction.”
Hollicker’s jaw dropped. “Oh, yes,” he said, relaxing his stance. “I believe something about that just came over the radio.” Joanna smiled, but without humor. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Now, what’s this about orders?”
“They came straight from Dick Voland, the chief deputy. He said not to allow anyone at all past this gate.”
“I see,” Joanna said. “Under the circumstances, it’s a perfectly understandable order, but for now I’m countermanding it. Please move your vehicle aside so Reverend Macula and I can drive through. You’re more than welcome to keep everyone else out after that.”
“Okay,” Deputy Hollicker said uncertainly, moving at once to comply. “Sure thing.”
Marianne and Joanna started back toward their respective vehicles. Reverend Macula was still steaming. “What’s the matter with that guy? He sounded as though your being sheriff was a total surprise to him, like he just found out about you a few minutes ago.”
“It did sound that way,” Joanna agreed. “I may be the sheriff, but someone seems to be trying to keep that fact a secret.”
“You mean if they don’t see you, maybe you’ll go away?”
“Nice try, but no time,” Joanna answered grimly in time-honored rodeo lingo. “They’ll have to do better than that.”
Dave Hollicker started up his Ford Taurus patrol car and drove it out of the way long enough for Joanna and Marianne to cross the cattle guard; then he moved it back into its original position, once more blocking the gate.
Marianne continued on up the road toward the Rocking P’s ranch house, but Joanna stopped the car and went back to the Taurus, where Dave Hal licker was speaking animatedly into his hand-held microphone. When he saw Joanna peering in the window at him, he hurriedly switched off the microphone and rolled down his window.
“Did you need something else?” he asked.
“Yes. Where is this glory hole? How do I get there?”
