The Ranger's Reunion Threat

by Lara Lacombe

  Ten minutes later, she walked out the door of the big ranch house clad in ratty old scrubs and a worn pair of rubber shoes. Tilting her head down, she reached for her hair and set to work resecuring her ponytail. She skipped down the porch stairs, drawing up short as a pair of boots entered her vision.

  Still working on her hair, she stepped to the right. The boots mirrored her movements, blocking her path once more. There were only two people on this ranch who would deliberately try to irritate her, and those weren’t her brother’s boots.

  Sure enough, she lifted her gaze to find Wyatt standing in front of her. She could tell by his expression he wanted to talk to her, but she didn’t have time for a conversation right now.

  “Excuse me,” she said, stepping to the side. When he matched her movements again, she narrowed her eyes.

  He lifted one hand to stave off her response. “I’m here to help you.”

  “Is that right?” She considered the possibility. It was doubtful he’d ever participated in the necropsy of a cow before, but he was strong and there was a lot of lifting and shifting involved. Still, was the convenience of his assistance worth the price in distraction she’d have to pay?

  “You have three animals to examine, and from what I understand, the process isn’t exactly fast. You said you were hungry earlier. I assume you’re not going to eat until you’re done with the cows?”

  “No,” she confirmed. The longer she waited to gather samples, the less chance they’d be useful. “I need to take care of this first.”

  “So let me help you.” When she didn’t immediately accept his offer, he pointed to the sky. “You’re running out of daylight. I know you’re not happy to see me, but let’s put aside our differences and get this done.”

  He was right, and the practical part of her brain knew it. Even though he wasn’t a skilled veterinary assistant, the process would still go considerably faster with him there.

  “Okay.” She nodded. “But we need to get you some protection first.”

  “Protection?” he echoed. There was a note of concern in his voice, as though he might be rethinking this plan.

  “This is a messy job,” she said, hiding a smile. “Wouldn’t want to get blood and gore all over your pretty uniform.” His dark green pants would probably fare all right, but his khaki shirt would be ruined. “Plus, I’m not sure what killed these animals. We need to be careful in case it’s some kind of infection.”

  He nodded, but she saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Lead the way.”

  A grudging respect bubbled up inside her chest as Isabel took them to the barn. Wyatt wasn’t any more excited to spend time with her than she was to see him, but he was willing to put aside his annoyance to help her get this done in a timely manner. And he was willing to take on the risk that the process would expose him to a pathogen. It was a small chance, but a consideration nonetheless.

  If he could act like an adult, so could she. It would be much more emotionally satisfying to ignore him, but that wasn’t going to get this job done. Besides, since she was now living and working on the family ranch again, she was bound to run into Wyatt from time to time. They were going to have to find a way to tolerate each other, for Diego’s sake. Might as well start working on that now.

  It didn’t take long to gather her supplies. Arms laden with gear, she and Wyatt trudged over to the downed cattle. Once there, she handed him some plastic coveralls and a mask, along with two plastic bags for his shoes.

  “Step into these and tie the loops around your ankles,” she advised. “Blood doesn’t come out of boots.”

  “Speaking from experience?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she said.

  “That’s a rather ominous observation,” he said, sliding one sack over his left boot. “Good thing I know you’re a vet.”

  She smiled as she donned her own set of coveralls. “Here’s another troubling piece of advice—put a lot of Vicks under your nose. Otherwise, the smell of death is going to get into your sinuses, and you’ll be living with it for days.”

  “Lovely,” he said dryly.

  “It’s not too late to back out,” she said.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Nope. I said I’d help and I will.”

  Isabel nodded. “Then let’s get started.”

  She conducted an external exam of the first animal, looking for signs of injury she’d initially missed. Nothing jumped out, so she picked up her knife and began the dissection.

  Wyatt remained quiet, responding quickly to her requests to hold this leg, hand her that vial. The first thing she noticed as she worked was the color of the animal’s muscles—they’d gone from the normal red to a dark grayish shade. That might be an important clue, or it may simply be due to the fact the animals had been dead for several hours.

  She continued to work, cutting through tissue and moving organs. Blood began to pool in the crevices and hollows she exposed, another strange finding.

  “I’m no expert, but I thought dead animals don’t bleed,” Wyatt said quietly.

  “They don’t,” she replied shortly. “At least, they’re not supposed to.” Normally, clotting occurred shortly after death. It wasn’t unusual to find fluids inside deceased animals, but this level of liquid blood was outside the norm.

  She filed the information away and continued her exam. The heart muscle had hemorrhaged into the surrounding space; so had the lung tissue. She turned to the rumen next, one of the four chambers of the stomach. It was already distended with gas, a combination of decay and the normal buildup of methane. The fetid air hissed around Isabel’s scalpel as she made her cut. She sniffed, detecting the familiar odors of sulfur, partially digested grass and stomach acid.

  But there was an additional scent that gave her pause: almonds.

  The pieces suddenly clicked into place. “Cyanide,” she muttered. It was the only explanation for these findings.

  “Did I hear you say cyanide?”

  She looked up, saw Wyatt’s eyes wide above his mask. “Yes,” she said. “Can’t you smell it?”

  He shook his head. “All I smell is rotten eggs and VapoRub. What am I missing?”

  “Almonds. Not everyone can smell it. Hand me that kit, please.” She dug a test tube out of the cardboard box and carefully scooped some of the rumen contents into the glass. Then she placed a strip of test paper at the top of the tube and added the cap. She gave the tube a gentle shake and watched as the yellow test strip turned a brown-orange color.

  “Bingo,” she said quietly.

  “So it’s poison?” Wyatt asked.

  She collected a few more samples to send off for a definitive diagnosis. But based on what she’d seen and this test, Isabel was confident these animals had died from cyanide.

  “Not necessarily,” she said, moving on to the next animal. “It’s not uncommon for some plants to produce cyanide as a defense mechanism. Sometimes, grazing animals ingest too much and it winds up killing them.”

  “Does that happen often?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not common, but it’s not unheard of, either.” She frowned as she continued her work. “The thing is, we’re pretty careful to ensure we don’t have a lot of cyanogenic plants around.”

  “Did you notice any in the spot where you found these guys?”

  Isabel finished her exam of the second cow and moved to the third. It was going faster, now that she knew what to look for. “I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean much. I can only recognize a few of the plants by sight. I’ll need to go back out there and do a more thorough search.”

  “I can help,” Wyatt offered. “I’m pretty good with plants.”

  She considered his offer. “That would be great. If you really don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Don’t you have to get back to rangering?” She wasn’t quite sure w
hat his days were like; she knew he didn’t punch a time clock, but surely he had some regular duties that required his presence?

  He chuckled. “I radioed in and told them I was camping tonight. I’ll check in again tomorrow morning. I can ride out to the site with you on my way back to the park.”

  “I appreciate it.” She continued her work, collecting samples and recording observations. Although she was confident in her presumptive diagnosis of cyanide poisoning, she wanted to send the samples for processing all the same. There was additional information to be gleaned, such as the type of plant material in the animals’ stomachs, along with the approximate concentration of toxin in their systems. All facts that would paint a fuller picture of what had happened, and help Isabel and Diego come up with strategies to ensure it didn’t occur again.

  The light was fading when Isabel finished her exam of the third cow. She stood, lifting her arms over her head to stretch muscles gone stiff from crouching for so long.

  “What happens now?” Wyatt asked, gesturing to the gruesome scene at their feet.

  Isabel took a step back and began to strip off her gloves and plastic gown. “Now we call Diego. We did the messy part. He gets to clean it up.”

  Wyatt pulled his mask off, revealing a grin. “Somehow, I don’t think he’ll like that.”

  She shrugged. “He’ll whine about it, but it’s not a tough job. I had him put the bodies far enough away from any buildings so the disposal would be a simple matter.”

  “Bury or burn?” Wyatt asked.

  “Burn,” Isabel replied. “There’s no wind tonight, and no grass nearby, either. Lighting them up is the easiest thing to do.” She picked up the walkie-talkie sitting in the dirt next to the samples she’d collected.

  “Diego, come in.”

  It took a few seconds for her brother to respond. “Yeah. What’s up?”

  “I’m ready for you out here. Bring the gasoline.”

  “Roger that.”

  She glanced at Wyatt, who was busy stripping off his plastic gear. “You survived your first necropsy,” she remarked.

  He nodded, staring at the remains with a kind of puzzled fascination, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “I suppose I did.”

  “You make a good assistant,” she said. “In case you need a fallback career.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched up in a lopsided smile that was dangerously endearing. “I think I’ll stick with being a park ranger.”

  Isabel glanced away, determined not to fall under the spell of Wyatt’s effortless charm. “I know that was always your dream.” They’d talked about it, that night he’d found her. He’d told her all about his desire to be a ranger, and she’d shared her goals of becoming a veterinarian. Eddie, her boyfriend at the time, had never been terribly interested in hearing about her plans for the future. Wyatt had been the first man outside of her family who’d actually seemed to care about her ideas. His attention had given her a heady rush, better than any roller-coaster ride. Was it any wonder she’d fallen for him?

  He moved closer, balling up his discarded protective gear as he walked. “It was,” he said. “Just like you wanted to become a vet. I guess both our dreams came true.”

  She glanced at him then, felt a spark of kinship as their eyes met. “Is it everything you thought it would be?” The question tumbled out before she had a chance to think twice. What was she doing, asking him something so personal? She needed to keep him at arm’s length, not invite him to share his private thoughts as to the way his life had turned out.

  Except...she cared. Wyatt had always been Diego’s friend, but the three of them had shared some fun times together growing up. He had been a part of her life for a long time, and even though Wyatt had broken her heart, she still worried about him, still wanted him to be happy.

  It was a strange dichotomy, the way she felt. There were times when Isabel could close her eyes and be right back in the moment when she’d seen Wyatt and Nikki in a passionate clutch outside the coffee shop, not even twelve hours after he’d made love to her in the back of his truck. The shock of it had knocked the breath from her lungs, made her light-headed. She’d literally felt something give inside her chest, had needed to sit down to let the feeling pass. At the time, she didn’t think she’d ever get over the pain of his betrayal.

  But as the years had passed, her anger and hurt had given way to a more nuanced understanding. Wyatt had been—still was, come to that—a handsome guy. Charming, funny, smart—he was the total package. Yes, they’d slept together. But they hadn’t made any promises to each other that night. She might have given him her heart, but he hadn’t reciprocated. The young girl she’d once been couldn’t imagine a greater pain. But the woman she’d grown to be recognized that was okay. In fact, it was probably for the best. They’d both gone their separate ways for school, her to College Station, him to Lubbock. The distance alone would have made things difficult. Besides, if they’d tried to keep a relationship alive, Diego would have had a hard time. He’d always been so protective of her, thinking no one was good enough for his little sister. She’d never want to make him choose between her and his best friend.

  Given their complicated history, Isabel thought it best that she and Wyatt remain on friendly, if impersonal, terms. Asking him if his reality had lived up to his expectations definitely crossed her mental line in the sand.

  In the fading afternoon light, his blue eyes held a hint of gray. “I can’t complain,” he said. “There are some things I don’t like about my job, about my life. But the good far outweighs the bad. What about you?”

  “Same,” Isabel replied. She was saved from having to say more by the rumble of Diego’s approaching truck.

  Her brother hopped out, surveyed the scene. If he was surprised by Wyatt’s presence, he didn’t show it. “You two find any answers?”

  “Cyanide,” Isabel said. She held up her clutch of samples, the glass tubes jangling a bit against the metal rack. “I’m going to send these out for processing to confirm, but I’m positive it’s cyanide.”

  Diego frowned. “I don’t recall seeing any dangerous plants out there today.”

  “I’m going to check tomorrow, do a more thorough search of the area,” she replied.

  “I’m going to help her,” Wyatt added. “I’m good with plants.”

  Diego nodded. “Thanks, Ranger Rick,” he drawled. “Can I get your help with this, too?” He nodded in the direction of the truck bed, which held two five-gallon gasoline containers.

  “I suppose,” Wyatt said.

  “Here.” Isabel gestured for Wyatt to hand over his trash. “I’ll take care of that.” She gathered everything into her arms: the samples, their discarded gear, her tools. “I’ve got my own cleanup to do. See you both at dinner.”

  The men said their goodbyes, the pair already focused on spreading gas over the animal carcasses.

  Isabel set off for the barn, but stopped after a few steps. She turned back, her eyes landing on Wyatt’s tall form and graceful movements.

  “Wyatt.” At the sound of his name, he glanced up. “Thanks again for your help today.”

  His smile was full of warmth, drawing her in despite her desire to keep things superficial. “Any time.”

  She looked away before he could see the rising blush on her cheeks. Cut it out, she told her body as she headed back to the barn. A few hours in Wyatt’s presence and her hormones were already stirring, wanting to pick things up where they’d left off ten years ago.

  Not an option.

  But despite her mental protests, her stomach fluttered with anticipation.

  Chapter 4

  “¡Mijo! I thought that was you!”

  Wyatt smiled with genuine pleasure as he trailed into the living room after Diego. Maria, the family’s long-standing housekeeper, walked out of the kitchen, wooden spoon in hand
. Her lined face beamed as she smiled up at him. “How long has it been?”

  “Too long,” Wyatt replied, wrapping his arms around her small frame. Although he still saw Diego regularly, he hadn’t been out to the house in ages. Maria didn’t seem to have changed much—she sported a few more laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, a few more silver strands in her dark hair. But her warm brown eyes still glowed with affection and he felt the strength in her slender body as she gripped him tight.

  She pulled back, frowning slightly. “Mijo está muy pequeño y delgado,” she said to Diego.

  Wyatt laughed. “I’m not that thin,” he protested.

  Maria harrumphed, clearly unimpressed. “You boys get cleaned up. Dinner will be ready soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Wyatt said.

  “You are staying the night?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated. “If that’s all right?”

  She swatted at him with the spoon. “Of course. Give me your clothes. I will wash them.”

  “Oh, no, Tía Maria. I couldn’t possibly ask you—”

  Maria put her hands on her hips and glared. “Did you ask?”

  Diego snickered, but covered it with a cough when Maria turned her gaze on him.

  Wyatt tried again. “It’s fine, you don’t need to do my laundry.”

  Maria ignored his protests. “You give him something to wear,” she instructed Diego. “Then bring me his clothes.”

  “Sí, Mami,” Diego said. Maria smiled at the nickname. She wasn’t Diego’s mother—wasn’t even his grandmother. But she’d been the ranch housekeeper and cook for so many years she was a de facto member of the family.

  “But—”

  “Dude, just go with it,” Diego muttered. “You’re not gonna win this one.”

  Maria nodded. “Listen to him,” she said. She reached up to pat Wyatt’s cheek then drew her hand back. “Ouch!” she joked. “So rough.”

  Wyatt grabbed her hand and brought it to his mouth to press a kiss into her palm. “Sorry, Tía.”