A Cowboy To Keep. Karen Rock
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looking tough. Lord, she hoped she looked tough.
He gazed at her steadily, and she clamped her teeth together. Swallowed hard.
He sauntered closer and she stared, mesmerized, the way a hare does when cornered by a western rattler. With a small push, he nudged her rifle barrel down. She breathed in the pure male scent of him. Not so much unwashed as worked hard. It made her nostrils flare. Her palms began to sweat. He wasn’t a man to tangle with.
“I want my gun.”
His words snapped her out of her trance and she backed up a few steps. Her mind turned in circles. She was fooling herself to think she had the upper hand here. Time to level the playing field. She tucked her rifle under her arm, pulled back the Glock’s slide to remove the chambered round, yanked out its magazine and tossed the empty gun back.
He caught it neatly with one hand. “Thank you, ma’am. I’ll see myself out.”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
His eyes gleamed. “And here I was, thinking you didn’t like me,” he said, and there was the corner of a grin there, bitten back as he holstered his gun.
Arrogant bastard. “I like your back. Intend to watch it as you go.”
His low chuckle made her flush again and then he strode away without a backward glance. Pebbles grazed the bottoms of her feet as she hurried after him, slightly dizzy. Off-balance. Bats called, up in the dark air. A clump of aspens leaned in the wind, intent, watchful. The rush and whisper of them roared in her ears.
At last they reached the gate and her fingers trembled on the keypad.
“No need.” He scaled the fence and dropped neatly on the other side. The moonlight glinted on his white teeth as he smiled. “Thanks for the tour.”
He tipped his hat and she watched him go. Studied the shadows long after they’d lost sight of him, too. She gripped the gate’s metal bar when her knees turned wobbly.
What had he wanted? Not to harm her, it seemed.
Would he come back?
Given her past, she wasn’t in any position to be spending time with dangerous men. But, suddenly, she wanted to know more about the scarred man who both frightened and fascinated her.
She gave herself a mental kick and headed back to her room behind the stables.
Bad boys.
She’d more than had her fill of them and wouldn’t let another occupy her thoughts. Not when the last one nearly destroyed her life. Not when, with her recent promotion to stable manager, she’d finally achieved the security that’d let her put her past behind for good.
The stranger’s striking face returned to her as she slipped under the covers. She punched her pillow. Hopefully she’d never see him again.
She wasn’t so sure her resolve would be up to the test.
* * *
JACK’S CELL BUZZED beside his plate of hotcakes the next morning. He nodded to the Shawnee Diner waitress holding a coffeepot, slid his mug to the edge of the table and brought the phone to his ear. It was a three-cup morning. He’d been up since four hanging flyers for his bail jumper, adrenaline jittering through him at the thought that he might be on the trail of his brother’s killers—and the redemption he desperately needed.
“Jack.”
“Mr. Cade, this is Diane May, owner of Mountain Sky Dude Ranch. I’m sorry we didn’t return your call last night. My husband forgot the charger and...” At a gruff throat clearing, she switched gears. “Anyways, how can we help you?”
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the approaching server. She crept forward, her expression wary. She looked ready to bolt at any sudden movement. He held still. Funny how that pretty gal last night hadn’t seemed the least afraid of him. He smiled inwardly as he recalled her sass, her humor, her bravado. “I’m a bounty hunter looking for a fugitive who’s worked for you.”
A gasp sounded, followed by, “A criminal? One of our workers? Who?”
Murmuring rose on the other end and Jack kept his face averted out of habit when his waitress poured the coffee then scuttled behind the counter. The cash register dinged as the joint’s only other customer checked out. A banjo and fiddle mingled in a broadcasted bluegrass tune.
The small restaurant must have been retrofitted from one of the old train cars that ran through this area once, he mused, waiting for someone to come back on the line. Its old-time booths rose high and pressed against small windows. Scuffed wood floors ran the length of the narrow space. An antique mirror reflected the space from behind the polished counter.
“Mr. Cade, this is Larry May,” came a man’s voice. “What’s going on?”
He glanced down the length of the empty restaurant. At the opposite end, the waitress leaned on the through-window and gossiped with the cook. No one to overhear.
“I’ve got a Failure to Appear warrant for Bill ‘Smiley’ Reno. He’s accused of drug possession and is a person of interest in a murder case.” Steam curled from his black coffee. Using the side of his fork, he cut through his short stack.
“Smiley? I think there’s some kind of mix-up. One of our groundskeepers goes by that nickname, but his name’s Ned Terrill. He’d never do anything like that.”
Butter and syrup melted on his tongue as he finished chewing and lowered his fork. “Ned Terrill’s an alias.” A phone shrilled on the counter and the waitress picked it up. Outside, a passing pickup honked at a couple of teenagers smoking beside the sidewalk’s geranium-filled planters.
“Can’t be. He showed us a driver’s license. Social Security card, too.”
“Fake.” The bitter black coffee stung the inside of his cheeks as he gulped.
He waited for the man’s sputtering to fade and ate more of his breakfast as he eyed the blue sky that domed over the small city. A good tracking day; he needed to get back on that ranch fast. A picture of the dainty woman who’d confronted him last night came to mind. She’d bristled like she stood ten feet tall; the image made him grin. It was a damn unfamiliar feeling.
“Who can we contact to verify your information? I don’t mean to be rude, but this is a bit of a shock. We’ve known Smiley for years. Our employees are like family.”
“Don’t mind at all.” He supplied Mr. May with contact info for Randall Cook and Lance, hung up and went back to eating. Sympathy for the couple rose. Most folks didn’t have much experience with the seedier side of life. They took people at their word. Saw the good since they hadn’t experienced much of the bad. His gaze drifted to his cell, willing a fast callback. It was eleven o’clock. Half the day gone and he didn’t want to waste more.
He crunched on a bacon slice and recalled how he’d been held at gunpoint by their caretaker last night. Impressive for a civilian... Not that her bold move would deter him from returning and catching his man—or men.
The woman had grit, and she’d piqued his interest nearly as much as this case had. Still, he wasn’t about to chase after romance as well as outlaws. He needed to focus on this case, not get sidetracked. His mission was about justice and putting bad guys away—not about finding personal happiness he didn’t deserve. Until he caught his brother’s killers, his own life would take a backseat. It didn’t begin to pay the debt he owed, but it was a start.
Plus, a face like his induced nightmares, not dreams... Strange how she’d stared right at him and hadn’t seemed put off. In fact, she’d gotten in his face, challenged him and he’d liked it. No denying that.
His cell vibrated.
“Mr. May.”
“Yes. I, uh, talked to Sheriff Covington, who spoke highly of you. I reckon what you’re saying about Smiley is true, although you left out the