Colton 911: Caught In The Crossfire. Linda O. Johnston
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Christmas dinner?” his mom asked, her tone a sweet chirp, as always. “You know we’ll want you to come. And…well, if you’d like to bring someone for Christmas, that’s fine.”
“Thanks, Mom,” he said. “There shouldn’t be any problem with my being there for either one.” After all, Thanksgiving was a couple of weeks away, and Christmas even farther away. “And if I think of anyone to invite, I’ll let you know.” His mind had flown immediately to Melody, of course. But he didn’t know if she had family here, or friends she’d want to spend the holiday with.
Besides, under these circumstances…well, he’d just have to see.
Melody wasn’t sure what she’d expected dinner to be like with just the three of them—herself, Clarence and Casey—that night, so she wasn’t surprised. But this felt unique.
And worrisome.
What if Casey and she didn’t find the cattle and the people who’d stolen them? What if the stock weren’t returned, especially after she’d sort of been singled out like this to help handle the situation?
They sat in Clarence’s posh dining room, with its antique wooden table and chairs, a tall, matching buffet against the wall and a glimmering chandelier hanging over the table. Melody felt she should have worn something dressier, but the men with her also wore casual clothing. When Casey had gone home to grab what he’d need while camping out, he had changed into jeans and a deep blue long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his chest—and he looked hunky in it. She had to make sure she didn’t stare.
He was likely to wear that and similar clothes on their stakeout, although he’d need to keep at least his ID with him to show he was a deputy if—and when—they found the rustlers. Probably his gun, too. She would stay as remote as appropriate from him mentally, even though they would be physically near each other.
The large room was filled with the aroma of what was being cooked next door in the kitchen. Melody suspected she hadn’t met everyone who worked here even now, after six months. Did Clarence have a special cook? Or was the person who prepared their food the same housekeeper who served it?
The housekeeper—Grace—was also dressed casually, in a long-sleeved black OverHerd Ranch T-shirt and jeans. She acted utterly friendly as she provided them each with a salad, a side of cheesy potatoes and, of course, a delicious steak. What else, at an Angus cattle ranch?
Melody had never dined in the main house before, had hardly spent any time here. There was a small kitchen and dining area in the bunkhouse where she lived and had numerous meals with her fellow ranch hands. That had seemed quite adequate since she’d begun working here. Clarence had always seemed nice enough, but she’d never felt close to her boss—nor should she.
“So how long have you been with the Sur County Sheriff’s Department?” Clarence had started to quiz Casey from the moment they’d sat down.
“Five years,” he said. “It’s a good place to work. The sheriff’s good at what he does, and—”
“Yeah, I know that. I help him keep his job.”
Melody felt herself blink, though not in surprise. Was that true? Or was it only Clarence’s ego speaking? He had a big one.
“That’s nice of you.” She could hear the irony in Casey’s voice and decided to change the subject.
“Clarence,” she began, “you know we’re going to start out early tomorrow. If there’s anything you especially want us to do to find the missing cattle, we’d love to hear your suggestions.”
“You’ll be using the GPS, I trust.”
She nodded, aiming a brief glance toward Casey, who looked amused somehow. “Yes. I’ve got the app on my phone like all the ranch hands, though I didn’t use it when Deputy Colton and I were out there by the damaged fence. We did see a lot of hoofprints that indicated the direction the cattle had gone, so that’s where we’ll start out tomorrow.”
“How about you, Casey?” Clarence asked. “Do you have the app on your phone? I made sure signals are available way out in all my pastures so cell phones work out there.”
“I don’t have the app,” he said. “But I’d be happy to download it before we go.”
“Right,” Clarence said.
When Melody again glanced toward Casey, the deputy was looking at her, his expressive blue eyes making it clear he wanted to get out of there.
“Are you about finished with dinner?” the deputy asked as he glanced down at her nearly empty plate.
“I certainly am,” she replied. “Because we need to get up early—really early, since I’ll want to have a little time to make sure the horse we choose for you is the right one. I think we should head…” She hesitated for a moment, because she’d been planning on saying “head to bed,” but that could sound suggestive. “Head to our rooms in the bunkhouse right away.”
“Then I’ll say good-night now,” Clarence said. “Thanks to both of you, and keep me informed of your progress tomorrow.”
It was six o’clock in the morning. Casey had awakened a while ago, showered, dressed and taken the things he had brought for their camping-and-stakeout expedition out to the bunkhouse lobby.
When they had arrived there last night, Melody had shown him to a small apartment on the second floor and given him a key. She’d let him know that her room was on the same floor but down the hall. He had gone out to his car—his own SUV—to retrieve the items he planned to take along.
When he’d come back in, he’d seen a couple of the guys including Pierce, whom he’d met before, and another fellow named Roger. They’d confirmed that the additional ranch hands had remained camping out in the pastures with the other cattle. Both of them indicated they’d be out in the pastures today, too. But Pierce seemed a bit displeased, hinting at his own desire to get out there and find the missing cattle. Casey thanked him but said that wasn’t a great idea—particularly since he, a deputy sheriff, would be out there working on the situation, with help from another ranch hand. Pierce had agreed that was the better scenario.
Maybe Pierce and Roger had already headed out this morning, since neither appeared when Casey brought out his things and waited for Melody, who’d apparently already been there. His equipment, which he’d packed in the burlap bags some of the stuff had come in, wasn’t the only camping gear in the lobby. There were a couple of substantial-sized saddle packs right by the front door that he assumed were Melody’s.
But where was she? Should he text her? Call her? Maybe he should go to the kitchen to see what he could grab for breakfast, or maybe that’s what she was doing. He’d be happy to see her again before they headed out.
He’d be happy to be with her then, too—which concerned him. He shouldn’t have to remind himself to remain professional.
He started down the first-floor hallway in the direction he believed the kitchen was located and saw Melody emerge from a door at the end, her hands full.
“Good morning,” she called, not muffling her voice at all. He figured no one else was there. She would be the one to know it.
She strode down the hallway and entered the lobby. Her black hair was once again pulled back into a ponytail, although she’d worn it somewhat looser last night at dinner. She again wore a blue denim work shirt and jeans, though her shirt this time was darker in color and unbuttoned partway down the front to show a navy T-shirt below.
She looked damn pretty in it, despite how casual this outfit was, too.
He suspected she