The Cattleman. Angi Morgan
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side of the border. And that started by cooperating with McCrea’s task force...and Beth.
He’d watched the sun rise over his land, replacing the darkness. By the time it warmed his face on the second morning, he’d come to the conclusion it was better to cooperate or capitulate. He’d thought long and hard about his parents. His dad’s cancer and remission should have been enough stress for them both. Add Nick’s recovery from getting shot. Yeah, that was a lot for his mom to take on.
Until Beth’s arrival at the house, he hadn’t thought twice about how his actions were affecting his mother. If Beth wanted to help him through a couple of nightmares, then he could talk about it for his mom’s sake. If Beth wanted to fake an engagement with him, then he’d take as much as she wanted to share.
What was he fighting? The magnetism that was full-blown between them from day one? Or that McCrea had mentioned he’d been there to track smugglers not a beautiful woman?
That’s exactly what he was fighting. He’d rescued her from a runaway horse instead of tracking the smugglers. She’d fallen into his arms and then into a cistern of water.
Stuck together, neither of them had held back. Then on their way home, McCrea’s words echoed in his head. Had it been real attraction or defiance against a man who rubbed him the wrong way. He couldn’t have a conversation with Beth without a major disagreement. They just didn’t get along...except in each other’s arms.
Whatever. He didn’t have to agree with her in order to make his mom feel better.
His quarter horse tossed his head and whinnied. Nick reined to a stop and patted the animal’s neck, keeping him quiet. He could hear movement up ahead on the trail. Which was it this time—those two-year-old heifers or drug smugglers?
He jumped to the ground, pulled his rifle and led his horse up an incline. Better to be overly cautious than dead. He’d given his word to his parents that he’d report criminal activity and not try to confront the criminals on his own.
No cell reception. Not until he reached the next ridge. He’d been out here so much he didn’t need to check. Whoever was approaching, Nick was on his own. He secured the reins to a sturdy bush, got a good handhold and pulled himself to the top of a boulder.
One man dressed in an army jacket and blue ball cap was casually riding a black horse up the trail. Nick cursed and hated the circumstances that made him assume the man worked for the cartel. But if the guy didn’t, he was trespassing.
Wait. Weapons. Lots of them.
No question. They were back. Probably using the same box canyon as always, moving in after he’d ridden past earlier. He was a good half day’s ride from the ranch and wouldn’t be able to get anyone here in time. But he’d call McCrea and keep his word to his parents.
Right after he extracted some information from the guy riding toward him.
His body tensed with anticipation, waiting. Having been shot in the back, he’d never faced his opponent. He hadn’t been needed to testify. Kate’s testimony had put Mac Caudwell in prison. The cartel had snuffed out his life after only a few days.
Mac had never said why he’d been ordered to pull the trigger. Nick hadn’t faced him, but he faced not knowing the reason every day. It drove him to the mountains too often to look for an answer that would probably never come.
This time his opponent had a face. This time the fear wore a blue ball cap and was nearly under the boulder. Nick had jumped onto the back of a horse once when he was younger. He hadn’t been able to sit comfortably for a week. It was a good twelve feet to the rocky path below.
This is gonna hurt.
He jumped, hitting the trespasser square in the shoulders and taking him to the ground. The horse bolted. The other guy took the brunt of the landing, sparing Nick’s limbs, but it didn’t slow either man down. He flipped to his back, sending Nick rolling, and was quickly on top of him cursing in Spanish.
“Who do you work for?” Nick grunted out between a punch to his side and a kick to his thigh. He managed to shove the attacker and scramble to his knees.
“No habla ingles,” the man gritted out after Nick landed a right to his jaw.
“That’s funny.” They rolled, exchanging places again. “You sound more Texan than I do.”
The man smiled wide, swinging and missing. Now on his back, Nick bent a leg and kicked out with his boot. He tried to stand but the man jerked him back by the collar, pulling Nick hard enough to send him headfirst over the edge of the path.
The back of his skull smashed into a rock or tree root as he alternately rolled and slid. He dragged his body to a stop in time to see the man on horseback ready to bolt, no doubt back to his compadres. On Nick’s horse.
“See you later, gringo.” His yellowed teeth showed lots of ugly as he dropped Nick’s cell off the cliff and left him on foot.
Nick relaxed and took some deep breaths. Not only would he have a hell of a headache, he’d also never live it down if he walked all the way back to the ranch. He’d be teased from now till he was gray and rocking on his porch. Especially by Beth.
No phone. Alone. On foot. He could still find out where the bastards were and what they had with them this time. He was a determined tracker and wouldn’t give up until he found them.
Ironically, the man who’d shot him in the back and nearly killed him was the same man who had taught him how to track as a teenager. The same man who had betrayed them all and claimed he wasn’t the only ranch hand working for the cartel.
Could Beth’s secondhand knowledge help him learn to trust again? He doubted it. But if she could get the nightmares to stop so his mom wasn’t frightened any longer, that would be enough reason to help her learn to ride a horse.
On the plus side, if Beth wanted to pretend to be romantically involved... Holding a good-looking woman in his arms wasn’t a bad thing. Might be nice. Having one who knew and believed in the no-strings attached clause was even better. Hell, he could pretend to be working on his next broken heart just as much as she could.
His back was stiffer from sleeping on the hard ground than after the bullet last year. Almost a full year. He shook off the building dread.
The trail wasn’t difficult to follow. It led straight to the canyon. He shimmied on his belly until he got to the rim, keeping hidden behind scrub. He spotted his stallion off in the far corner. And there they were.
They hadn’t bothered camouflaging anything. Three men, one wearing a blue ball cap, stood around a couple of ATVs with small satchels attached.
Money this time? Had to be since there wasn’t much cargo. Money would be used to purchase guns that would be sent back to Mexico. Two men guarded an ancient-looking helicopter, rifles pointed to the edge of the cliffs, waiting and ready to open fire.
They used the helicopter to fly low through the mountains, loaded the money onto the ATVs and met up with someone else who got on the highway and away from their county as fast as possible. The rest of the distribution process wasn’t complicated. They found legit citizens who still had relatives in Mexico, threaten them with harm until they bought the guns and gave them back.
Nick had done his research. It seemed an endless cycle that no one could stop. Too big to tackle. He wanted to charge down the cliff and attack. Then what? He needed his horse and wouldn’t be in this situation if he’d kept his word to his parents.
He sat tight until both the ATVs started and took off. Minutes later, the chopper warmed up and did the same. Time for Nick to go.
Those men had rifles and could pick him off if they caught him in the open. He scrambled under the brush, praying his luck would improve and the chopper would head the opposite direction. When he couldn’t hear the echoes any longer, he zigzagged down the path and retrieved his horse.
“At least I’m not walking, but we still have a long way to go, pal.”