Cori knew Fort wasn't happy. He'd made his dislike for the plan clear, but since he hadn't come up with another that didn't require him marching into the bar and roughing up some guy, they were going with her idea.

Both Cori and Fort were hesitant to involve Cricket. But in a game of who-was-more-stubborn, Cori won. She used Fort’s sense of justice and strong desire to protect Wolf Creek as her trump card, and he caved. Bringing Cricket in was a necessity. She had all the accouterments that Cori needed. Fort tried to get around it, but finally admitted that sending Cori in was the one plan that had the highest probability of succeeding.

They were holed up at Cricket's, the women in Cricket's spare room where her pageant goods were stored, making choices about Cori's disguise while Fort waited outside in Cricket's living room ready to wire Cori.

“Thanks for helping with this, Cricket.” Cori looked at the wigs before her, wondering which would be the best.

“Anytime. Pick the red. It'll be a contrast. It'll work and get you some attention.” She pulled a box off the shelf. “Are you scared?”

“I think I'm more pissed off than anything. Cattle rustlers, if that's what we're looking at, make me angry.” Cori snapped the eyebrow pencil she was holding in two.

Cricket's eyes grew wide. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“It cuts close. Cattle rustling.”

“It happens.” Cricket handed Cori the auburn-colored wig. “Sadly. My folks consider themselves lucky if they go a year without incident.”

“But they shouldn't feel like that.” Cori stomped her foot. “Makes me so mad.”

“I'm guessing you were the victim of cattle rustlers?” Cricket pushed her to the chair in front of the vanity and pointed to the contact lenses Cori had brought with her.

“Sorta.” Cori knew she would have to share something with Cricket, and she couldn't stand to tell any more lies. Omitting some facts would be the best plan. Not looking at Cricket made telling the story easier so she focused on inserting the contacts while she talked. “Do you know how Fort got his name?”

“Nope,” Cricket said as she spun Cori around to face her. Cricket picked up a makeup sponge and began applying the foundation.

“On the night Fort was born, his dad won twenty-five acres and twenty-five head of Angus cattle from my dad. Fort's dad, Karl, had put up a little swath of land as his final bet. My dad wanted that land. It was prime real estate, only Karl didn't know that. The land was in a direct line from where oil had been found on our land. My dad had kept it a secret as he tried to buy up all the surrounding parcels. Karl's was one of the last. So my dad put up those acres to woo Karl into the game. Charlie, that's my dad, never expected Karl to win. The guy wasn't very lucky. But he did. He won, and when Fort was born a few hours later he convinced Saira to name him Fortune because he had made his fortune that night. His luck had changed. Little did he know he was sitting on a bubbling crude of money, but Karl thought he'd struck it rich by becoming a rancher in one night, after one hand of poker. Over the years, my dad's anger grew, often screaming about how it was a chump’s bet. How he shouldn't have lost.”

Cricket listened, mouth agape. “Did Karl ever find out about the oil?”

Cori tilted her head up, eyes closed while Cricket worked on her eyeshadow. “Yeah, a day after he lost the land and cattle to my dad in another high-stakes game eighteen years later. But the ranch had been struggling for a while. Karl wanted instant riches and often embarked on these schemes that would result in him losing more money, which meant they'd have to sell cattle or land to cover the losses. Usually to my father.”

“Sounds awful. It’s amazing you two are friends, much less romantically involved.”

Cori was glad she couldn't see Cricket. “It's been a struggle.”

Life after her dad had been a never-ending hardship. Creating a relationship with Fort, however it was defined, had been the easiest of it all. “My dad was a real bastard. Greedy. He's swindled many of the ranchers from their hard-earned money through insurance policies and taxes. He would swoop in like a good guy and offer to buy off their land or cattle for less than market to help with trumped-up fake diseases or federal charges. Essentially, he used the town of Brewster like a piggy bank, constantly dipping his hand in. He bought a big house for my mom, put me through all those stupid pageants. I lived in luxury while he was stealing from his neighbor. All his neighbors.”

“Jeez.” Cricket took Cori's hand in hers. '“Is that why you're so adamant about doing this?”

Cori opened her eyes and nodded. “I can't let anything happen to Wolf Creek. Even more so if my dad is involved. And if Deke is involved—”

Cricket said with force, “He's not. I know he's not. He's not the sort.”

Cori was skeptical. “He's running with a bad crowd. How do you explain that? He's not that naive that they're taking advantage of him.” They would know more tonight, hopefully. Cori picked up the red curly-haired wig, running her fingers over the mesh lace inside the cap.

“I know. And there's a perfectly good explanation. We'll find it. Now, let's get you finished.” She waited while Cori wrapped the wig cap over her head. Cricket set the wig on Cori's head, then went about styling it.

“What do you think?” Cricket asked.

Cori stared back at the stranger in the mirror. She looked like a bombshell. Her hair was a seductive auburn and hung in heavy waves around her shoulders. Her blue eyes popped and sparkled. Tucked into the waist of her tight jean skirt was a clingy purple T-shirt. But what made the outfit remarkable was the push-up bra. It was amazing because, unless she grew breasts overnight, which she knew she hadn't, her perfectly sized chest had exploded and was straining against her shirt and bra, spilling over the top. She couldn't wait to see Fort's face. Cori slid on the three-inch heels and stood.

“Cripes, I hope I don't break my neck.” She walked around the room in an attempt to get her “stiletto legs.” “Okay, let's do this.” She opened Cricket's bedroom door then strode down the hallway. The plan was to try to eavesdrop but have enough oomph to use it to her advantage if she had to. Fort had grumbled about the plan, but couldn't offer an alternative. Knowing he'd be in a truck in the parking lot was a small comfort.

When Cori stepped from the hallway, his eyes went wide. Fort growled. “Nope. No way,” he said, standing. “We'll find a different way. I'm calling this off.”

“What? What's wrong? You don't think I can pull it off?”

“Have you seen yourself?” He stepped toward her and spun her to the mirror hanging over Cricket's entryway.

“Yeah, I think we did a good job. I look nothing like me.”

“That's correct. You look like you're wanting some trouble. I don't like it.”

“Or maybe you like it too much,” Cricket said.

Cori nodded. “That's got to be it. He's always had a thing for showy women.”

“Those heels make your legs look a mile long, and the short skirt shows way too much thigh. No,” he said again, then licked his lips while staring at her cleavage.

Cori rolled her eyes. “Don't be stupid. I have a stun gun in my purse and you waiting outside the bar. I'll be fine.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and set his jaw in determination.

“Do you want to know what's going on? Put a stop to the cattle rustling? 'Cause, if not, then we need to tell the good folk of Wolf Creek that you haven't done everything in your power to stop this. Seeing as how you want to be their sheriff and all.” She stuck a hand on her hip, but his eyes never wavered from her breasts.

“This is a bad idea,” he said, then looked at her. “I could make it worth your while if we stayed home.”

Cricket gave a discrete cough. “That's a good offer,” she mumbled to Cori.

Cori sighed. “So, to be clear. You don't want to be sheriff?” She gave him a pointed look, one telling him to prioritize.

“Fine,” he said. He fit her with the wire, brushing his knuckles over her sensitive parts, probably on purpose to distract her. “You sure you don't wanna come up with another plan?”

She shook her head, focusing on steadying her breathing.

“Okay, then, let's go.” He gestured to the door.

“Shotgun,” Cricket said, laughing as she pushed past them both.

Cori teetered out, the heels causing her hips to sway.

“Jesus,” Fort mumbled. He held the door open for the women. He'd brought the ranch truck to give them more room.

They rode to Bruno's in silence, Cori quietly going over the plan in her head. When they pulled into the gravel parking lot, she got nervous, sitting forward with her arms around her belly.

Bruno's was a honky-tonk in the truest sense. Motorcycles lined the front, pickups as well, many with horse or cattle trailers. Music was bleeding through the tin rafters and shook the neon sign that touted the bar's name.

“You're just trying to eavesdrop. If you get drawn into a conversation, try to find out the connection with that guy and Witty.”

“And my father.” She desperately needed to know if he was behind all this.

“Don't focus on that. Your dad can't be wielding too much power from—” His eyes cut to Cricket.

“You don't know that.”

“Cori, stay on point,” Fort warned.

“Sure, sure.” She nodded. If her father was involved, she would kill him. With her bare hands.

Fort helped her out of the truck from his side. He reached for her, a tiny microphone in his hand, but she stepped away. If while touching her he asked her to cancel the plan, she wouldn't be able to say no.

“I'll do it,” she said and tucked the small recorder and cord between the valley of her breast, and then hid everything in the padding of her bra at the bottom of the cups. “Can you see it?” she asked and moved her head away so he could look down her shirt.

He barely glanced at her chest. “Cori—”

She didn't wait for more but walked off toward the bar.

Inside Bruno's was loud, smelly like body odor and cows, and packed, clearly exceeding fire marshal limits. There was no way Fort was going to hear a single thing from the wire unless she pulled it out and screamed into the microphone. She was flying solo.

A large stage broke the room into two halves. On the stage, women in various states of dress danced.

She had a hard time finding her target, believing for a moment she and Fort had picked the wrong day and they would have to do this again. And she really didn't want to.

That's when she spotted Witty by the bar on the far side of the stage. He looked to be with three others and already heavy into his drink, but not one of the guys with him was the stranger Cori was hoping to chat up.

Disappointed, Cori decided to get close anyway. Maybe they'd say something, anything, to help Fort.

As she wove through the crowd, she had to slap away two wandering hands and push a drunk in the chest with a threat to stab her stiletto in his eye if he didn't back away. When she finally reached the side of the bar where Witty was, the stranger was there, too. She caught his eye and smiled.

At the bar, she asked for a beer, and before the bartender could produce it, stranger-guy was next to her.

“Hello, beautiful,” he said in a wave of foul breath. If he was staying at her cabin, he should at least make use of the bathroom shower and sink. She turned her curled lip into a smile.

Her cabin. As if. But she couldn't help that she felt that way. She just did. Even if it wasn't true.

“Hello, cowboy,” she said and turned to face him, putting her hand with the bottle in front of her like a glass wall.

“What brings a pretty girl like you here?” When he swayed forward, she leaned away.

“I was meeting someone, but it looks like he stood me up.” She stuck out her lower lip in a fake pout.

“You from around here? Cuz I ain't seen you in here before.” He balanced himself by leaning against the bar, shoving a person out of the way.

Cori's gut told her to go with no. She knew he wasn't a local either, and that might appeal to him. Plus, if he were cattle rustling, he wouldn't take them to a livestock auction nearby; he'd go miles away. Like her dad had done. Her father had actually established a second residence in Oklahoma for trafficking cattle.

Cori smiled coyly. “I'm from Montana. Billings. Came to see a friend and meet a guy who I was chatting with online. Looks like I'm meeting you instead. I'm Co—Coral.” Fudge-cicles. She'd forgotten to come up with an alias.

“Coral, pretty. I'm Brody Fant, and you smell like the beach.” When he whiffed her neck, nausea nearly knocked her aside. At his smell, it all came back to her. Brody was his real name. That she was sure. But the last name was new. She remembered her mom pleading with her dad to turn in a Brody to reduce his sentence, but her father refused, saying he, Brody, was his right hand, and there were things Brody would need to take care of while he was in prison.

Brody was mid-thirties and had probably been handsome once upon a time when his sandy blond hair and dimples were fresh. But now, he looked weary. Road hard and put up wet, as they said. The lifestyle he led was coming through his weathered skin, his yellow teeth, and when the odor of booze leaked from one’s pores, it wasn’t from the drinks he was currently imbibing. No, it was from a lifetime of them.

No doubt, her father was involved. There was no such thing as a coincidence.

“What do you say we leave and have some quiet time?” Brody suggested.

Cori cocked her head to one side and bit her lip, as if she was sorely tempted. “I wish. I see my friend waving to me over there by the door. I can't go anywhere without her following.” Brody teetered to a twist, looking over his shoulder. Cori waved to some random lady by the door that happened to be looking their way. The woman waved back, a puzzled look on her face.

“I could entertain the both of you,” he said, facing her again while hitching up his britches.

Cori seriously doubted he could entertain himself with the state he was in.

“Maybe, if you're ever in Billings,” Cori said and set her beer on the bar top.

“I'll be in Billings Thursday,” he said with a cocky smile. “Got me some business up there.”

“At the livestock auction?” It was a stab in the dark, but she wasn't raised by a rustler to not know something.

Brody didn't answer, but stared at her slack-jawed.

Cori ran her index finger down his plaid western shirt. “Are you a cattleman? I have a thing for cattlemen.” She swirled her finger near his belly button.

Brody's slack mouth went into a wide smile. “As a matter of fact, I am. I'm in the cattle broker business.”

I bet you are, she thought.

“I can meet you at the auction. Maybe a little afternoon delight?” She suppressed a gag at what she was suggesting, swallowing it instead.

“Yeah, sure.” Brody came in for a kiss, but she quickly turned her head and he caught her at the neck.

“We'll save all that for Thursday. Okay dokey?” She patted his chest and tweaked his nose. “See you then, sexy.” Not waiting for a response, she pushed through the crowd like a mad woman with fire at her backside. Once out the door, she rushed to Fort's truck. He was standing outside the driver's door with his hands on his hips, a serious frown and mean ass glare on his face.

“Two more minutes, and I was coming in,” he said when he saw her.

“Worried, were you? Too loud to hear anything I bet?” She scooted around him and then climb in the truck through the driver's side. “Let's get outta here. Where's Cricket?” The other side of the cab was empty.

Fort pointed over his shoulder. “Talking with Deke.”

“Deke's here?” Cori looked in the direction he was pointing and saw Cricket with arms waving madly in the air. “I think she's yelling at him. Those two are weird. I thought she didn't talk to him.”

“It drives me insane the way she defends him. I know he was married to her sister, but still.”

Cori gasped as realization dawned. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Fort spun around to look at Deke and Cricket.

“Something is going on between them.” Cori moved to the back seat and ripped off the heels. “Something like what we did in the cabin.”

“What? No way.” Fort harrumphed “I don't believe that. Cricket is smarter than that.”

Cori rolled her eyes. “The heart wants what it wants Fort Be-so-lame.” Man, hers really wanted him.

When Cricket turned around and pointed in their direction, Cori waved at her to hurry it along. She was anxious to get the hell outta dodge.

Cricket had grabbed Deke by the arm and was dragging him from the truck and toward them.

“Incoming,” Cori said as Fort let go of an expletive.

“Deke here has something to say.” Cricket let go of his arm, then shoved him in the shoulder.

“Can it wait? I really want to get outta here. The guys are already drunk, and I may have promised one an afternoon of pleasure on Thursday. I'm nervous he might come looking for me now, ready to collect.”

“You did what?” Fort bellowed.

Cricket twisted Deke's arm. Deke said in a rush of words, “Witty isn't my campaign manager.”

“A-ha, I knew it,” Fort said and pointed a finger at Deke. “What scam are you running?”

With her free hand, Cricket punch Fort. “Tell him, Deke.”

“I hired him under the pretense of being my manager. What I was really doing was trying to get to the bottom of a cattle rustling ring in the area.”

Fort snorted his disbelief.

“It's true,” Deke said.

“And I should believe you, why? Maybe you know you're caught so you're trying to save your own neck.”

“I'm not a dirt bag,” Deke said and took a step toward Fort, hands balled into fist.

“You broke my arm with a bat because I gave Laura a ride home.” Fort met the challenge and moved closer to Deke.

“I was swinging it to try and scare you. You weren't supposed to bum rush me. Fool.”

“You're the fool,” Fort growled.

Cricket stepped between them. “You're both idiots. Can we please focus on now and not the past?”

Fort stepped back and spread his hands wide. “Okay, if this is true. You think you might have told us at the office?”

“Oh, no,” Cricket said, her tone heavy with sarcasm. “And give up his dream of being Insurance Commissioner for the state? Not a chance. Dick Tracy here thought he could single-handedly solve this crime, and he would be escalated to the top of Wyoming Government.”

“Do you even want to be sheriff?” Fort asked.

Deke gave a slight sigh of defeat. “Only because it'll help me become commissioner. Plus, I needed you to run. If I do become Insurance Commissioner, I didn't want my rise to the top to be easy. No one respects someone when the job is handed to them.”

Cricket and Cori shared a look of disgust. The things men would do to get their way.

“Can we take this discussion elsewhere?” Cori asked. She was itching to take the wig off.

“Yes,” Cricket said. “My house. I'll make sure Deke gets there.” She steered him back to his truck.

Cori climbed over the console and into the passenger seat. “If you could step on it, that would be awesome,” she told Fort when he turned over the engine.

“You think we could squeeze in a little late-night delight?” he asked, then leaned over and dropped a kiss on the top of her breast.

“Aren't you thinking about what Deke just said?”

“Sure, but I'm thinking more about what's right in front of me. There's time for Deke later.”

Cori smiled and tossed a curl over her shoulder. “So long as you can make it fast. I've never had a quickie, and I'm interested in seeing what all the talk is about.” She needed to get what she could before she no longer had it.

Fort gunned the truck and peeled out of the parking lot. “I know of a little secluded area just down the road from here. Used to go fishing there.”