When the truck stopped, Kylah placed a hand on his arm. “Do you want your apology now or over dinner. I was barely civil earlier and I’m sorry for that.”
Before he could think too much like Jake accused her of doing, Wolf leaned in and brushed her cheek with his fingertips. He would’ve liked to turn that touch into a hell of a lot more. But here and now wasn’t the place or the time. He shifted back in his seat, the better to see her eyes. “Apology not needed or it’s accepted or whatever you prefer.”
She studied him in silence and he didn’t have a clue what was going on in her head. But, with that, the three of them got out of the truck and headed for the entrance, Trouble taking the lead. A waitress motioned them toward a table, then followed with two glasses of water and her order pad.
Like Kylah, Wolf ordered the rib-eye then looked the waitress in the eye. “There’s a cat under the table.”
“Hon, I saw him when y’all came in. He would’ve been hard to miss. How does he like his steak?”
“Medium rare with the excess fat trimmed.”
“I’ll be right back with your drinks and a bowl of water.” With a wink for them, she closed her order pad and walked away.
Kylah lifted her brow at Wolf.
“What? We’ve been hanging together, you know. He prefers fish but I wanted a steak.”
“And you learned this in two days?”
“It’s been a busy two days and a guy’s gotta eat.” But, for tonight, Wolf was determined to not talk about murder. “I could get used to having dinner with you every night.”
She’d glanced toward the band, which sounded pretty good, but that comment snapped her gaze straight to his. “We have some decent restaurants in California.” She paused. “But there aren’t many close to where I call home.”
He’d caught the surprise that widened her eyes but gave her credit for a quick response in spite of that. He also noted she’d avoided addressing the more personal aspect of his comment.
“California, girl, huh?” He felt the pinch of disappointment. California was a hell of a long way. “Close to your mother, I guess.”
“Nope, Northern California. Hill country. That’s as close to the movie sets as I care to live.”
“Is that where most of your work is? Movie sets?”
“Most, yes, but on location, not in studio, so pretty much all over the place. I’ve also worked a few of the big rodeos with some already scheduled this fall, spotlight entertainer and that sort of thing. This is my first historical reenactment. I’ve got an offer for a WWII reenactment mid-summer but haven’t accepted it yet. It’s an interesting concept, these reenactments, but I have to see how well all of this will suit me and my horses.”
“How did you end up in stunt work rather than acting?”
“Love of horses. Love of riding.” She shrugged. “And took after my dad, I guess.” She hesitated. “Kent West.”
Wolf whistled softly. The man was as famous in his own right as Madeline Breck was in hers, with seven straight world records riding broncs as a rodeo professional before turning Hollywood stuntman. As far as the tabloids had it, Kent West had been almost killed in everything from doubling in a street car race scene to diving from a cliff as a pirate. “Just how much do you take after him?”
“Well, I’m not suicidal.” Her tone held a note of ruefulness. And something else as well.
“Glad to know my services won’t be needed.” Keep it light was all he knew to do if he didn’t want to push his way into that something else. And he didn’t. At least not here and now. And not this way.
She tilted her head to one side at the comment. “Your services? As a U.S. Marshal?”
“I’m also a licensed psychologist.”
She leaned back in her chair as the waitress arrived with their food. But, once they were served, she picked right back up on his words and he didn’t think her interest was feigned. “Psychologist. How did that happen?”
“My parents chose to live off the Boundary but most of our family, on both sides, live on the land trust. One of my cousins got into drugs in his early teens. He was the youngest of six boys, a late-in-life afterthought, always hungry for attention in a crowded household. My uncle Ed dragged him into treatment more than once but he ended up leaving a note and shooting up one last massive dose on his twenty-first birthday. He was supposed to have been with me that night. My uncle is still pissed at me that he wasn’t.”
“It’s easier for him to be angry at you than at his son. Not rational but easier.”
He shrugged. “I’ve learned grief isn’t rational. His death, what it did to his family, made enough of an impression on me that I thought psychology, helping young people, was what I wanted to do.”
“You found out different?”
He nodded. “Pretty much by accident. Got called in on a county trial as an expert witness. After that, I was hooked on getting the bad guys who were tearing down kids. But I didn’t want to be part of any good old boys sheriff’s department.” For sure not one run by his ex-brother-in-law. “I looked around and saw professionalism I could admire in the marshal service so that’s where I headed. I still use my college training to work with young people but not on a clinical basis. I help with an afterschool sports program that includes pretty much everything but football.”
“On the land trust?”
“On and off. Cherokee and non. Teen-agers are teen-agers and most of their internal struggles aren’t related to their DNA.” He hesitated. “On the side, I ride herd on a half dozen or so teenaged boys.” He’d exposed more of himself than he intended but it didn’t feel as risky as it once would have. Not with Kylah.
When the waitress returned to clear their plates, she asked if they’d like another drink. Wolf glanced toward Kylah then nodded at the waitress.
When the waitress walked away, Kylah looked at him and took a deep breath. “Five years ago, my husband committed suicide.”
Wolf didn’t know what he’d expected her to say, but it wasn’t that. He felt gut-punched at the thought of what she’d endured. And at the thought that his competition was a dead man. No winning that one. “I’m sorry,” he said and meant it.
“Looking back, I think he was manic-depressive or something similar. At twenty-seven all I knew was I was marrying the love of my life. Marty was a stuntman, like my dad. Always a clown, always looking for that next high. Two years later he was dead.”
Holy cow. He’d read about Marty Davis. The man had died acting as a double in what proved to be one of the highest-grossing movies of the decade. Wolf had made a rare trip to the movie theater to watch the high-profile action film about a military rescue of several abducted children, young sons and daughters of political figures held for ransom. During a scene that was supposed to involve a last-minute parachute opening inside a jungle compound, the guy never pulled the ripcord. There were people on the ground close enough to see that he made no effort and slammed into the ground with eyes open and a peaceful expression. The scene had never been re-taken and, in the end, the movie was completed without it.
“At first I didn’t believe them when they called it suicide. Then I found the note he left for me. It was tucked into my daily planner a couple of weeks ahead.” She took a deep breath that ended on a small shudder. “For a long time, I was devastated. Then, I was mad as hell at him.”
“And now?”
“Two days ago was the anniversary of his death and I realized I couldn’t remember him, not the way I thought I always would. And, I guess, a part of me decided five years was long enough for … whatever. I went ‘looking for love in all the wrong places’ as the song and the saying goes.” She gave a humorless laugh. “That didn’t get me much beyond a hang-over.”
Wolf reached across the table and closed his hand around hers. “Let’s leave the vote open on that one, shall we?”
* * *
What a sad tale. And what a sad thing these humans do to themselves and the people who love them. How
ever, I begin to hope that these two may make a go of it. I do perceive Kylah can take care of herself. She has a strength that wasn’t evident in our first unfortunate evening together. Even so, I’ve found that most humans do better with a true partner, someone to take care of and to take care of them in return. Not that Jake is a bad chap but Kylah needs someone more than a hired hand who is also a pal. My opinion anyway but, of course, I am correct.
Ah, here comes our nice waitress, doubtless with the check for our meal. Time for me to decide where I shall sleep tonight. Kylah’s room is very comfortable but does make it difficult for me to come and go as I prefer. Yet, I think, for tonight she may appreciate my presence. I would be gobsmacked if she’s ready to move forward with Wolf on any level but friend. More’s the pity there.
But, of greater significance, I must be close at hand to view the dress rehearsal of this epic reenactment tomorrow. There will be people out and about and perhaps a clue can be found regarding our ongoing murder investigation.
A pair of nice, leather hiking boots stops inches from our table and breaks my line of thought. I shift positions for a better view.
* * *
“You were at the meeting this morning, at the college.”
Wolf glanced up from paying the check and frowned slightly. Kylah found herself pinned in the stare of a young man who stood close to their table, too close. His shoulder was to Wolf, his focus on Kylah. His long, thin nose would be handsome one day. For now, it was more than his other features could handle with any kind of symmetry. “You were holding a cat and sitting with the outsiders. The cat made me notice you.”
“He’s certainly striking,” she said evenly.
“You’re one of the reenactors.”
“And you came in with the student council.” She studied him a moment. “And, yes, Mr. McDaniel, I’ll take part in the event.”
Wolf shifted in his chair and Kylah glanced across at him. His hardened expression warned he was about take issue with the kid’s accusatory tone and she shook her head slightly. So far, the boy, because that’s what he was, hadn’t so much as glanced Wolf’s way. Kylah suspected he should have.
“I guess you’re like the rest. You don’t care that you’ve put us all in danger.”
“Danger? To you? Are you frightened?” Kylah’s tone held mild curiosity. She, no more than Wolf, thought the kid was afraid. His dark eyes glittered with emotion, but it wasn’t fear.
“Shouldn’t I be? People getting killed and all.”
“Not people,” Kylah corrected him. “A woman. With a name and a life and people who loved her. Your attempt to turn a tragedy into a stage drama is distasteful and gets you no sympathy from me. You’re wasting your time.”
“Well, all of you might want to be real careful at that dress rehearsal. Seems somebody besides a bunch of college kids is upset about you reenactors coming here.”
Wolf, it seemed, had had enough. He stood, the action pulling the young man’s gaze to him. “Since you’re scared, how about I call your dad and have him come take you home where you’ll feel safer.”
The younger man’s eyes widened. “Waya. I didn’t see you. No, man, I’m good.” He nodded at Kylah and turned on his heels. His exit was far more hurried than his entrance.
Kylah looked up at Wolf. “Waya? Cherokee?”
He held out his hand and waited until she stood and placed hers in it. “Cherokee.”
“For Wolf. Of course,” she murmured. “And who was that?”
“That would be a cousin once removed, one of Ed’s grandkids.”
“Is he pissed at you, too?”
“Dusty? Not that I know. I’m surprised he even recognized me. Like most kin, we see each other at funerals and weddings. As far as I can tell, there isn’t much of anything or anyone that he likes. He just needs to grow up. He’s been battling his way out of his own wet blanket for years.”
“He seems harmless enough.”
Wolf held the door open for her as they walked out. “But irritating as hell. What is it about this dress rehearsal that’s got him riled up?”
Kylah left her hand in Wolf’s as they walked toward the truck. She smiled up at him, feeling easier at heart than she had in what seemed like forever. “As best I can tell it’s just an opportunity for the organizers to make sure all of the costumes and props are authentic before the paying audience arrives. Maybe Dusty doesn’t think the Cherokee will be fairly or accurately represented. Or maybe he’s just a kid in need of a target for his growing pains.”
He cocked one brow and she realized again how sexy the man was. “The dress rehearsal … that’s coming up soon, I take it?”
She felt like she was reawakening to a quenching drink after a long drought. “Tomorrow. Our first live scenes are scheduled for Saturday. We need to know we’re ready.”
“What about your costume? Authentic enough to make Grant happy?”
Kylah lifted a brow. “Are you kidding? I have access to some of the best historical wardrobes in the world.”
“Ah, yes, the movie studios.”
They stopped by the passenger door to Wolf’s truck but he didn’t open it right away. Her heart thudded in the silence, so loud she was sure he could hear it, and then he said, “You know, I hadn’t thought about it before, but it may be odd that Maisy McGuire was dressed out in her costume when she was killed. It was kind of early for that, wasn’t it?”
Kylah bit her lip. What an idiot she was. Her thoughts had been on his lips while his had been on a dead woman.
“True. Something to consider for sure,” she murmured.
Wolf must have heard something odd in her voice because he tilted his head. “What is it?”
Kylah let herself laugh, and it felt good. “When you stopped and didn’t say anything, I thought you were going to kiss me. I was thinking about how that would feel and you were thinking about murder.”
Wolf stepped closer and she found herself pinned between him and the truck. “I like your train of thought much better.” He tilted her chin with one hand and brushed her lips with his. “And I’m happy to show you how that kiss feels.” And then he did.
He didn’t rush and her arms twined around his neck. She could feel the length of his body against hers, could feel his reaction to her, to the kiss. With a reluctance that bemused her, she pulled back enough to tell him, “I’m not sure I’m ready for much more than this.”
He leaned his forehead to hers. “Do you want to be?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“I’ll take that. For now.” And he kissed her again.
Chapter Nine
My, oh, my! This place does seem to be in chaos this morning. Jake and Kylah sit outside the horse trailer with their mugs of coffee staring a bit glumly at the comings and goings. The arena is filled with what Kylah called day trippers, people who bring their trail riding and even their event horses, animals unused to the unorganized milling of crowds and the sounds of artillery and, therefore, a potential hazard to those around them as the day progresses. She has no intention of bringing her animals out of their stalls until the crowds are gone, which means she’ll be in the arena late tonight giving them their daily exercise.
I sense her tension over the day ahead. It’s because of that and my watchfulness that I see her straighten as a figure in costume passes by. I get up when she does, prepared to follow, if only to alleviate the boredom of watching humans who haven’t a clue what they’re supposed to be doing as they try to find someone who can enlighten them.
* * *
“Ella? Ella Necaise?”
The person hesitated and turned and Kylah saw she was right. It was Maisy McGuire’s partner. Kylah wasn’t sure what she was going to say but it didn’t seem right to ignore the grieving woman.
Ella, dressed as Kylah in era-appropriate men’s attire, stopped and waited for Kylah to reach her. Her expression was controlled but her eyes were bleak and Kylah’s heart hurt for her.
She touched the
sleeve of Ella’s butternut brown uniform. “I wanted you to know that I’m sorry for your loss.”
“I appreciate that.” Her glance moved to Kylah’s cheek. “You still have a bruise.”
“It doesn’t hurt.” And it didn’t. And no need for Ella to know her panicked arrival had sent that rock flying into her face. “Is there … is there anything I can do for you? To help you?”
Ella looked lost and her words said as much. “I don’t know what to do.” She hesitated. “But, yeah, maybe. The investigators won’t let me have – they haven’t released Maisy’s body to me.” Tears brightened her eyes but she blinked to keep them from falling. “But our campsite – the barricade can come down now. They’re finished there. I’m going there now. You could go with me?”
“Of course.” What a hard, hard thing to have to do alone, Kylah thought. “What about family or friends? Is anyone coming to help with arrangements?”
“We don’t have family. At least none that will speak to us.” She stopped and took a deep breath. Kylah suspected she was realizing all over again there was no more us. “I’ve talked with a funeral service here. Maisy wanted to be cremated. We both wanted that for ourselves. I never imagined I’d have to deal with it so soon.”
Ella turned away and started walking and Kylah glanced back at Jake to be sure he saw she was leaving the area and going with Ella. He gave her a nod, his gaze tracking to the cat at her heels.
She caught up to Ella with a few long strides and they walked together in silence. The women’s campsite looked forlorn in the morning mist. The investigators could at least have returned to remove the barricade which lay as much on the ground as not. Ella compressed her lips at the scene and began rolling up the yellow tape in stoic silence.
Kylah took it from her. “I’ll do that. You’ll want to check your belongings.”
The other woman yielded the roll she’d started, her eyes not meeting Kylah’s. Kylah watched her duck into the tent and sighed. In a few moments, she had the tape rolled with a loop-back tie to keep it secure. Not a sound came from within the tent. Uncertain what to do next, she watched as the cat walked a blurred line of what looked like spray paint on the ground behind a small, crudely built table. Realization hit her with a chill as Trouble stirred a section of the line with a front paw.
Trouble in Action Page 9
