The Lawman's Betrayal by Sandi Hampton

these people alone. If she were going to stay here, she had to get a thicker skin—and soon. Wes pulled the chair out, and she slipped into it, pulling her skirt around her like a shield.
    An old man appeared at the table and handed two menus to him. “What can I get you folks?”
    Wes’s eyebrows lifted. Naomi too was surprised that the waiter had offered no resistance to serving them. “What would you recommend?” Wes asked.
    “Can’t go wrong with steak, I always say.”
    “Sounds good to me. Naomi, what would you like?”
    “A steak would be fine.”
    Wes handed the menus back. “Throw some potatoes on there, would you? Maybe some biscuits. And we’ll have some coffee.”
    “Okay.” The man walked away.
    “Didn’t expect such a pleasant reception.”
    “Me neither,” Naomi said. “Especially when everyone else looks like they could…shoot us or…something.” She shivered and rubbed her arms.
    “Want me to get you a jacket?”
    “No, thanks.”
    The old man reappeared with a coffee pot and two cups. “There’s sugar in that there dish,” he said, then left.
    Wes took her hand in his. “So, Naomi, tell me what you’re going to do now, and what you want me to do, if anything. How do you plan to find out who killed your husband and that…woman—without getting yourself killed first?”
    She jerked her hand back. “I don’t know…for sure. I guess I need to find a place to stay first, and I want to talk to Rose Morales. She’s the one who testified that her friend, this Rita Jones person, was having an affair with Roy. I think someone put her up to lying about that, why I don’t know.”
    “Sounds like a good place to start.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “You don’t think Roy was having an affair?”
    “I don’t know. I didn’t at first, but after sitting in prison for three years and thinking on it, I’m not so sure. He never talked to me about, well, anything. Told me all I had to do was be…his wife. Sometimes, he was so distant. I never knew what he was thinking. I did love him though, and I think he loved me.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, dabbed at her eyes, then hurriedly put it away. She didn’t want any of these townspeople to see her crying.
    “Well, maybe, and I’m just spitting out theories here, so don’t get your feathers ruffled, but since the Jones woman was found dead beside Roy, maybe she went to him and said unless you leave your wife, I’m going to tell her about us, and maybe Roy killed her.”
    “I’ve thought about that, thought about it a lot.” Naomi took a sip of her coffee. “But I don’t believe that either. I guess I’m, maybe I’m too naïve or something…I don’t know. I know Roy is said to have killed a lot of people, but I just can’t see him killing a woman…like that.” Her voice trailed away.
    A tall figure appeared in the doorway. Wes’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and Naomi glanced in that direction. Her appetite disappeared, replaced by a knot in her stomach. Sheriff Bert Russell, his badge gleaming on his vest, stood in the doorway. Her hopes lifted—a tad. Sheriff Russell had been kind, almost fatherly, to her during the trial. Why, she didn’t know. She’d not had any dealings with him prior, but she’d appreciated his kindnesses. He’d never really believed her innocent but had done his job and investigated thoroughly. Roy had never seemed to like the man but had never said why.
    And from the look on Wes’s face, he didn’t like the man either.
    When the sheriff saw them, he headed in their direction. “Howdy, Cooper.” He stopped and extended his hand.
    Wes ignored the gesture. “Howdy, Bert.”
    Russell’s eyes narrowed, and he withdrew his hand. Then he laughed. “Didn’t expect to see you in Gila Bend.”
    Wes shrugged. His blue eyes mirrored his dislike. So, Roy, from one side of the fence, and Wes, from the other side of the fence, both disliked, or distrusted, Sheriff