Diamond in the Rough. Diana Palmer
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“I’ll handle this,” John told the older man. “I need to stop by the post office anyway and get some more stamps.”
“I don’t understand why any man would treat a child so brutally,” Buck said. “She’s such a nice girl.”
“She’s not a girl, Buck,” John replied.
“She’s just nineteen,” Buck replied, smiling. “I have a granddaughter that age.”
John felt uncomfortable. “She seems older.”
“She’s got some mileage on her. A lot of responsibility. She needs help. That child her mother adopted goes to school in pitiful clothes. I know that most of the money they have is spent for utilities.” He shook his head. “Hell of a shame. Her mother’s little check is all used up for medicine that she has to take to stay alive.”
John felt guilty that he hadn’t looked into that situation. He hadn’t planned to get himself involved with his employees’ problems, and Sassy wasn’t technically even that, but it seemed there was nobody else in a position to help. He frowned. “You said Sassy’s mother was divorced? Where’s her husband? Couldn’t he help? Even if Sassy’s not young enough for child support, she’s still his child. She shouldn’t have to be the breadwinner.”
“He ran off with a young woman. Just walked out the door and left. He’s never so much as called or written in the years he’s been gone, since the divorce,” Buck said knowledgeably. “From what I hear, he was a good husband and father. He couldn’t fight his infatuation for the waitress.” He shrugged. “That’s life.”
“I hope the waitress hangs him out to dry,” John muttered darkly. “Sassy should never have been landed with so much responsibility at her age.”
“She handles it well, though,” Buck said admiringly. “She’s the nicest young woman I’ve met in a long time. She earns her paycheck.”
“She shouldn’t be having to press weights to do that,” John replied. “I got too wrapped up in my barn to keep an eye on her. I’ll make up for it today.”
“Good for you. She could use a friend.”
John walked in and noticed immediately how quiet it was. The front of the store was deserted. It was midmorning and there were no customers. He scowled, wondering why Sassy wasn’t at the counter.
He heard odd sounds coming from the tack room. He walked toward it until he heard a muffled scream. Then he ran.
The door was locked from the inside. John didn’t need ESP to know why. He stood back, shot a hard kick with his heavy work boots right at the door handle, and the door almost splintered as it flew open.
Tarleton had backed Sassy into an aisle of cattle feed sacks. He had her in a tight embrace and he was trying his best to kiss her. His hands were on her body. She was fighting for her life, panting and struggling against the fat man’s body.
“You sorry, son of a…!” John muttered as he caught the man by his collar and literally threw him off Sassy.
She was gasping for air. Her blouse was torn and her shoulders ached. The stupid man had probably meant to do a lot more than just kiss her, if he’d locked the door, but thanks to John he’d barely gotten to first base. She almost gagged at the memory of his fat, wet mouth on her lips. She dragged her hand over it.
“You okay?” John asked her curtly.
“Yes, thanks to you,” she said heavily. She glared at the man behind him.
He turned back toward Tarleton, who was flushed at being caught red-handed. He backed away from the homicidal maniac who started toward him with an expression that could have stopped traffic.
“Don’t you…touch me…!” Tarleton protested.
John caught him by the shirtfront, drew back his huge fist, and knocked the man backward out into the feed store. He went after him, blue eyes sparking like live electricity, his big fists clenched, his jaw set rigidly.
“What the…?” came a shocked exclamation from the front of the store.
A man in a business suit was standing there, eyebrows arching.
“Mr….McGuire!” Tarleton exclaimed as he sat up on the floor holding his jaw. “He attacked me! Call the police!”
John glanced at McGuire with blazing eyes. “There’s a nineteen-year-old girl in the tack room with her shirt torn off. Do you need me to draw you a picture?” he demanded.
McGuire’s gray eyes suddenly took on the same sheen as John’s. He moved forward with an odd, gliding step and stopped just in front of Tarleton. He whipped out his cell phone and pressed in a number.
“Get over here,” he said into the receiver. “Tarleton just assaulted Sassy! That’s right. No, I won’t let him leave!” He hung up. “You should have cut your losses and gone back to Billings,” he told the white-faced man on the floor, nursing his jaw. “Now, you’re going to jail.”
“She teased me into doing it!” Tarleton cried. “It’s her fault.”
John glanced at McGuire. “And I’m a green elf.” He turned on his heel and went back to the tack room to see about Sassy.
She was crying, leaning against an expensive saddle, trying to pull the ripped bits of her blouse closed. Her ratty little faded bra was visible where it was torn. It was embarrassing for her to have John see it.
John stripped off the cotton shirt he was wearing over his black undershirt. He eased her hands away from her tattered blouse and guided her arms into the shirt, still warm from his body. He buttoned it up to the very top. Then he framed her wet face in his big hands and lifted it to his eyes. He winced. Her pretty little mouth was bruised. Her hair was mussed. Her eyes were red and swollen.
“Me and my damned barn,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”
“For…what?” she sobbed. “It’s not your fault.”
“It is. I should have expected something like this.”
The bell on the door jangled and heavy footsteps echoed on wood. There was conversation, punctuated by Tarleton’s protests.
A tall, lean man in a police uniform and a cowboy hat knocked at the tack door and walked in. John turned, letting him see Sassy’s condition.
The newcomer’s thin mouth set in hard lines and his black eyes flashed fire. “You all right, Sassy?” he asked in a deep, bass voice.
“Yes, sir, Chief Graves,” she said brokenly. “He assaulted me!” she accused, glaring at Tarleton. “He came up behind me while I was putting up stock and grabbed me. He kissed me and tore my blouse…” Her voice broke. “He tried to…to…!” She couldn’t choke the word out.
Graves looked as formidable as John. “He won’t ever touch you again. I promise. I need you to come down to my office when you feel a little better and give me a statement. Will you do that?”
“Yes, sir.”
He glanced at John. “You hit him?” he asked, jerking his head toward the man still sitting on the floor outside the room.
“Damned straight I did,” John returned belligerently. His blue eyes were still flashing with bad temper.
Chief Graves glanced at Sassy and winced.
The police chief turned and went back out into the other room. He caught Tarleton by his arm, jerked him to his feet, and handcuffed him while he read him his rights.
“You let me go!” Tarleton shouted. “I’m going back to Billings in two days. She lied! I never touched her that way! I just kissed her! She teased me! She set me up! She lured me into the back! And I want that damned cowboy arrested for assault! He hit me!”
Nobody was paying