Married In Montana. Lynnette Kent
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housekeeper at her heels, teasing.
But she didn’t get away fast enough to avoid hearing Beth’s comment.
“Of course you shouldn’t get dressed up.” The older woman crossed her arms over her full breasts. “And I’m the queen of the monkey house.”
Thea looked back just before she rounded the corner. “I’ll add bananas to the grocery list,” she called, and heard Beth’s laugh carried off on the wind.
Instead of heading straight out to the state road, Thea turned the Land Rover toward the work buildings, the cattle barns and the pastures beyond. Backing onto the foothills of the Crazy Moutains, the Walking Stones Ranch claimed terrain from water meadows all the way to subalpine mountain peaks. Most of that land was as familiar to her as her own bedroom.
And she loved to examine it the way other women might admire their jewelry. Even on a cloudy day, Walking Stones showed its riches, in the dull gold of cut hayfields, the fading green of frosted grass, brilliant yellows and reds from the aspens and oaks, the velvet black of fat Angus cattle grazing for breakfast. Wood smoke, wet leaves and a hint of snow colored the wind, its moan the only sound in an otherwise blessed silence…
Until it was broken by a rifle shot.
Thea jumped, then sighed and shook her head. Deer season opened today. Herman and Bobby and her dad had left before dawn for the start of their annual male-bonding ritual. She’d never been invited to go along, but she’d never wanted to. Venison steak didn’t hold a candle to range-fed Angus beef, as far as she was concerned. Culling the deer population made sense, she supposed, although she had a strong belief in nature’s ability to handle its own problems. There were, after all, coyotes and wolves.
Mostly, though, she liked looking at the deer alive, liked the alert shine of a doe’s eyes, the sweetness of the fawns, the power and majesty of a heavily antlered buck. Why destroy something so beautiful?
Turning into the wooded hillsides, she headed up a dirt track toward the fence line dividing Walking Stones land from the national forest. The winding mountain road beyond the back gate was the long way into town, guaranteed to take up enough time that she wouldn’t look stupid arriving early for her meeting with Rafe Rafferty. Or, worse, eager. Just because she wanted the chance to see him again, maybe have a decent conversation, didn’t mean he had to know how she felt.
Thinking of his dark eyes and the humor she’d caught there a couple of times, Thea stopped at the gate, climbed down from the Land Rover to unlock the chain, drove across the cattleguard, stopped again and got out to refasten the lock. She pulled hard, to be sure the snap had caught, started to turn away, and realized her brain had recorded an image she hadn’t quite processed.
Easing between two of the fence wires, she walked carefully over the rough ground, uneven with clumps of grass and rocks and dirt. About a hundred feet along, she came upon what her eyes had seen without her mind knowing. A deer. A doe.
Or what was left of one, anyway.
CHAPTER FOUR
ON SATURDAY MORNING, Paradise Corners was crowded with just about everybody Thea knew. She identified them by their trucks, just as they did her, and returned their greetings—the truly friendly ones, the wary ones, and the ones designed to make points with Boss Maxwell by sucking up to his daughter. For those, she smiled through gritted teeth.
Outside Grizzly’s Diner, the deputy’s bloodhound posed with the regal attitude of a conquering lion. Thea crouched to meet him at eye level. “You’re in control, aren’t you? Got your eye on the whole town from right here.” He let her stroke his baggy jowls and crinkle his ears, but didn’t give up his watchful pose. Reluctantly, she straightened up and pulled on the diner’s door. Time to meet the man waiting inside.
First she had to meet and greet at every other table in the place, saying hello to the folks she’d had as teachers and church leaders, school-trip chaperons and sports coaches. There were others, too, who gave each other nods and shrugs and deliberately ignored her as she moved past them. All the time, shaking hands and smiling, she was aware of Rafe Rafferty in the booth at the back, watching and waiting. For her.
When she finally got there, he stood up. “Good morning. Thanks for coming.”
She’d forgotten how tall he was. How tanned. How gorgeous.
“Hi.” Completely inadequate as a greeting, but she couldn’t do any better at the moment. Just to have something to do, she took off her jacket and slid onto the seat. A glance out the window gave her something to say. “I met your dog outside. He’s a good guy.”
Grinning, Rafe sat down across the table. “Jed’s the best. What would you like to drink? Want something to eat?”
The memory of the slaughtered doe, on top of the tension twisting her stomach, made facing food impossible. “Just coffee, thanks.”
He signaled Mona Rangel behind the counter. Before the pause between them could get too awkward, the former teacher set two heavy white mugs down on the table. “Good morning, Thea.”
Yet another reason for nerves. Thea had always regretted that she hadn’t been able to talk her dad out of his fury over Bobby’s sixth-grade failure. “How are you, Mrs. Rangel?”
The older woman nodded. “Just fine, thank you.”
“Glad to hear it.” Thea emptied the usual three packets of sugar and a good dollop of milk into her cup, stirred furiously, then looked up to find the deputy watching her.
“Something wrong?”
Great…he could read her like a book. She picked the least embarrassing reason for her edginess. “Um, nothing major. I…I found a poached deer on the property as I was leaving. I guess it shook me up a little.”
“The season started this morning.” He doctored his coffee, then took a gulp. “Maybe the hunter hadn’t got there to collect the carcass yet.”
“This was an old kill. The coyotes had been at it.”
His straight eyebrows drew together. “What else?”
“The head was gone. And it was a doe.” Thea cradled her mug in both palms, waiting to be teased for her squeamishness. “I know, I know, it’s inconsistent to raise cattle for the market and balk at hunting.”
“Maybe a little,” Rafe agreed. His tone was almost gentle. “But this wasn’t an animal taken for food, was it? Just a trophy for somebody’s wall. That’s the wasteful part.”
She stared at him, amazed at his perception and his attitude. “You’re exactly right, it’s the waste that bothers me.”
He smiled. “Don’t sound so surprised. Not every man on the planet likes to spend his time in the woods killing game.”
“Every one I’ve ever met.”
“Well, then,” Rafe drawled, “I’d say it’s time to broaden your experience.”
The look in his eyes—half smile, half challenge, all male—robbed her lungs of air. He was flirting again.
But Thea didn’t know beans about that game. Anyway, she was here for a different reason. After a sip of coffee, she found her voice. “You said you wanted to talk about Bobby?”
Rafe sat back, and the warmth in his face faded. “He’s been in town every night this week.”
“I know.”
“Raising hell.”
Thea squeezed her eyes shut.
“Probably drunk more often than not.”
She didn’t say anything.
“He’s got a problem, Thea. You have to see that.”
“He’s only nineteen.”
“But