Love Finds You in Valentine, Nebraska

by Irene Brand

  “June said that you’re going to sell these cattle.”

  “They’re mostly cows that haven’t calved for two years, so we culled them out of the herd. We’ll keep them in the corral and feed them grain for a few weeks so they’ll bring a better price. We sell cattle a few times in the year.”

  “Do you ever buy new stock?”

  “Smith has discouraged it, so we haven’t bought any stock lately. It would be good to buy some more purebred stock. I’d like to have a young bull from the Arrowsmith Ranch in Bassett, Nebraska. They have good stock, but they’re expensive, too.”

  “Smith is no longer involved in this ranch, so if you need new cattle, go ahead and buy them.” She lifted the paper she held. “I left a copy of this on your desk so you can go over it at your leisure. It’s from my lawyer, and he says that Smith has been skimming money from the ranch for the last four years—amounting to about thirty thousand dollars.”

  Derek stared at her as if he doubted her word. “I’ve never heard a word against Smith Blaine.”

  “It’s true. Mr. Talbot wouldn’t make such an accusation if he didn’t have proof. He even wondered if Smith might be embezzling from all his clients. I’ll call and talk to Mr. Talbot about the situation and see what he thinks I ought to do about it. Family or not, if Smith stole that money, he’s going to pay it back or I’ll have him arrested.”

  “Wouldn’t your dad have suspected?”

  Kennedy shrugged her shoulders. “He was easygoing, and he probably wouldn’t have said anything to Smith if he had noticed anything questionable. After Mother’s death, he lost interest in everything.”

  “So you’re going to accuse him of stealing from you?” Derek questioned.

  “I’ll have to see what Mr. Talbot says,” Kennedy answered, “but I hope he’ll press charges.”

  “Don’t go to see Smith alone anymore. I’ll go with you.”

  “I’d like that. I wouldn’t put it past him to lay the blame on you, and I want you there to defend yourself.” Derek’s attention seemed to wander, and he pointed to the lane, where a yellow taxi was stirring up a dust cloud. “It’s unusual to see a taxi coming to the Circle Cross.”

  When it stopped, a dark-skinned man stepped out. Derek took a deep breath, his body stiffened in shock, and he muttered, “Impossible!” When it stopped, a dark-skinned man stepped out. Derek took a deep breath, his body stiffened in shock, and he muttered, “Impossible!” Several tattoos were prominent on the man’s arms, and an earring in his left ear jingled as he swaggered toward Derek and Kennedy. The man’s dark, insolent eyes swept Kennedy’s face before he faced Derek.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Sterling,” he said.

  “What do you want?” Derek asked.

  “I’m looking for a job, man, and I heard your spread was hirin’ now.”

  His manner disturbed Kennedy. She turned to watch Derek, but he was poker-faced, and she couldn’t tell what he thought about their visitor.

  “What you heard is wrong,” Derek said bluntly. “We only hire extra help during roundup in the spring and fall. We don’t need any help now.”

  “I’m just tryin’ to represent, man. I’ll be hangin’ around Valentine for a while, and I’ll catch you later. I’m about to pearl.” The stranger returned to the taxi, and the vehicle drove away.

  Derek stared after the taxi, and Kennedy wondered at the cold, resentful expression on his face. Or was it hopelessness she saw smoldering in the depths of his dark eyes?

  “He didn’t look as if he would know much about ranching,” she said lightly, to break the somber mood that hovered over them. “And I couldn’t understand half of what he said. What did he mean, he was about to ‘pearl’?”

  Derek looked at her as if he’d forgotten she was even there. “What? Oh, that’s street gang talk. He meant he was leaving.” He stood up. “I’d better get back to work. Are you going to stay and work in the office?”

  “No, I’m finished for the day.”

  Kennedy’s mind was troubled when she got in her car and turned toward Riverside. Why had Derek changed so quickly? Although he had tried to act unconcerned, she knew him well enough to realize that the man who’d approached them was not a stranger.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Although Derek had wanted to keep up a front for Kennedy’s benefit, the bottom had just dropped out of his life. He should have known he couldn’t live down his past. But why, after all these years, had Lazaro shown up in Nebraska? Time had changed his former associate, and at first Derek had doubted that he really was the man who’d enticed him into a Chicago street gang. But as he led his horse toward pasture, Derek knew he wasn’t mistaken. It was Lazaro, or Chill, as he was known in the Chicago underworld. What should he do? Ignore him or try to find out what he wanted?

  Derek was glad his mother hadn’t seen Lazaro, and he wished Lazaro hadn’t seen Kennedy. He gritted his teeth upon remembering the look in Lazaro’s eyes when he’d glanced at her. When this old acquaintance had walked back into his life, any vague hope that he might have a future with Kennedy had flown out the window.

  After supper Derek drove into Valentine, and although he searched all over town, especially in areas he thought Lazaro would frequent, he didn’t see any sign of the man.

  He finally returned to the ranch and sat up watching late-night television, hoping he would get sleepy. At midnight he finally went to bed, but he couldn’t sleep.

  His mind was too full of the mistakes he’d made when he was a boy—which now might destroy his future. But if he went down, he was determined that he wouldn’t take Kennedy with him.

  She called him the next day to tell him that her lawyer was going to write Smith a letter about the shortage in the funds, and he’d also suggested that Kennedy not talk to Smith until he had an opportunity to review the charges. Derek thanked her, but when she asked him to come to Riverside when he had time to talk over some plans she had, he told her he’d be busy for a few days.

  On Sunday, after seeing that Derek wasn’t at the ranch when she stopped to get June, Kennedy knew that something was wrong. It had been five days since she’d seen him. She was convinced that his absence had something to do with the stranger who’d approached them at the ranch.

  When she asked about Derek, June said, “I’ve hardly seen him all week. He eats his breakfast, goes out on the range, and doesn’t come home until after dark.” Because she was so upset about the change in Derek, Kennedy hardly heard a word of Tony’s sermon, and she found it difficult to even rejoice with him when he whispered, “Matti has given her notice. She’ll be returning to Valentine in a couple of months.”

  “I’m glad, Tony. I’ll call her soon.”

  June invited her to stay for lunch, but she declined, knowing that it would be too painful to be in Derek’s company and think that he didn’t want to see her. She was a little embarrassed to see him now anyway. She’d done everything she could to show him she cared for him and that the differences in their social and family backgrounds didn’t bother her. Well, she had some Morgan pride left, and she was determined that the next step was up to him. She realized it was time for her to leave Nebraska, and she would go as soon as she settled matters with Smith.

  However, any doubts Kennedy had that she was still important to Derek fled from her mind the second week in August when she found another warning. She hadn’t heard anything unusual during the night, but when Kennedy went to the door with Miranda when she was leaving, a large cardboard sign was tacked to the front door. In large, bold letters was written:

  GET OUT OF NEBRASKA, RICH LADY.

  YOU DON’T GET NO MORE WARNINGS.

  “Well, forevermore!” Miranda said. “I’ve never seen the like!”

  Kennedy was stunned into speechlessness. Her breath seemed to be oozing from her body, and she felt dizzy. Miranda took her arm in a strong grasp and helped her to a chair.

  “How do you suppose anybody tacked up that sign without one of us hearing?�
� Miranda asked.

  Kennedy shook her head. Miranda took a phone from her purse and dialed.

  “Are you calling Derek?” Kennedy mumbled.

  “No. I’m calling the sheriff. This needs to be investigated before we mess with it.” In a short message, she stated what had happened and then severed the connection. “She’ll be here shortly.” Starting to dial the phone again, Miranda asked, “Do you know Derek’s number?”

  Kennedy told her, and Derek answered on the first ring. When he heard what had happened, he must have asked about her, for Miranda said, “She’s okay now, but I thought you should know. I’ve called the sheriff—she said she’d come right away” Kennedy was still in her nightclothes, so she went into the bedroom and changed quickly into denim shorts and a dark blue knit shirt. When she heard a vehicle speed into the driveway, she hurried out to the porch. It was Derek rather than the sheriff.

  He parked quickly and leaving the truck door ajar, ran to the house and came up on the porch, taking the steps two at a time. Kennedy hurried to meet him, and, apparently unconcerned what Miranda might think, Derek pulled her into a tight embrace.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “Yes,” she whispered into the soft flannel of his shirt. “Neither of us heard anything, so we don’t know what time the sign was put there.” With his arm still around her shoulders, he walked to where he could read the sign, and his face blanched and then turned red in anger when he read aloud, “Get out of Nebraska, rich lady. You don’t get no more warnings.”

  He released her and Kennedy stared at Derek, almost shrinking from him in his wrath, which she knew wasn’t directed toward her but to whomever was threatening her. His hands knotted into fists, and his dark eyes blazed with anger.

  He gripped the porch banister with both hands and bowed his head. His body shuddered violently, as if he was trying to get control of his emotions.

  Openmouthed, Miranda stared at him. A siren shrilled loudly in the morning calm, and when the squad car stopped and the sound of the siren had ceased, Derek shook his head and straightened.

  “Kennedy, you’ve got to leave Nebraska and go back home,” he said in a strained voice. “You’re not safe here. You can come back after we learn who’s threatening you.”

  “It might just be a crank message—you know, the Western custom of tormenting the greenhorn,” she ventured hopefully.

  Derek shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  The sheriff had reached the bottom of the steps, and Kennedy watched her as she looked over the area. Tricia Morgan was a tall, slender woman, and dressed as she was in the masculine uniform, Kennedy first considered her appearance ordinary. But on closer observation, she decided that Sheriff Morgan was a striking woman. Her short hair was dark brown. Her eyes were a clear hazel, and she had a smooth, flawless, rosy complexion. Although she must have been almost six feet tall, she walked with grace and strength as she mounted the steps and stood before the sign.

  “Sheriff,” Derek said, “this is Kennedy Blaine.”

  The sheriff shook hands with Kennedy. “Glad to meet you, Kennedy, but I’m sorry it had to be under such circumstances.” She motioned to the sign. “Miranda says you didn’t hear anything in the night.”

  “Nothing! And I sleep right there.” She pointed to her bedroom, only a few feet from where the sign had been tacked. She explained about the night that Wilson had heard something. “Derek found some tracks that night.”

  “I don’t see any tracks now. But if the sign was put up before the dew fell, it would be hard to find footprints. Did you notice anything, Derek?”

  “I’d only been here a few minutes before you came, so I hadn’t looked around.”

  “I’m not inclined to consider this a joke, Miss Blaine,” the sheriff said. “I’m going to take this sign in for some lab work and send a deputy out here to look around a bit.”

  “I guess we’re related,” Kennedy said hesitantly, not knowing if the sheriff would want to acknowledge the kinship.

  “Yes, your mother and my dad were cousins, and I’ve always been sorry that we didn’t know you. There are a few other Blaines and Morgans who have intermarried through the years, but I guess your parents were the first who had the courage to try it.”

  “So I’ve been told,” Kennedy answered.

  “I’ll be on my way now,” Sheriff Morgan said. “But I’ll be in touch. Are you going to leave Valentine?” Kennedy shook her head and, with a sidelong glance at Derek, she said firmly, “It will have to get a lot worse than this before I go back to California.”

  “Then you’ll have to keep Wilson with you at night,” Derek said, a worried expression in his eyes. “At least you’ll have a warning if anyone trespasses.”

  “That’s a good idea, Derek,” the sheriff agreed. She turned to Kennedy. “I urge you not to take this message as a joke. It’s a warning, and although Miranda is very efficient, she can’t watch you all the time. At the first sign of any problem, call me.”

  “I will. I’m honest enough to admit that I’m afraid to stay here, but,” she added doggedly, “I’m also determined that I won’t be a coward and let someone scare me off my property.”

  “I’ll be working on every lead I have.” The sheriff’s probing eyes swept from Derek to Kennedy. “Both of you keep sharp eyes on what goes on around you and notify me at the first hint of trouble.”

  But in spite of Miranda’s company and Wilson’s protection, during the next two weeks, the intimidating signs kept appearing. One was nailed to a post near the gate between Riverside and ranch headquarters. June found one in the mailbox on two occasions. Another similar sign was stuck under the windshield wiper of Kennedy’s car while she was shopping in Valentine. Both Derek and the sheriff were at their wits’ end with trying to figure out who was responsible.

  Kennedy insisted that Smith or the people who wanted to buy the Circle Cross were responsible, and she couldn’t understand why Derek disagreed with her.

  What did he know that he wouldn’t tell her? Although she trusted Derek implicitly, she was convinced he knew more about the threats than he was telling her.

  Derek could understand why Kennedy wanted to stay in Nebraska, and he didn’t want her to leave, either. He’d become so fond of her that he couldn’t imagine how it would seem to not see her every day. But if his former acquaintance Lazaro was trying to get to Derek through Kennedy, he knew she wasn’t safe. Although Lazaro was an educated man, he chose to use slang from the street. It stirred his warped humor to have people in authority, especially police, think he was dumb, while all the time he was laughing behind their backs about how stupid they were. So if Lazaro was responsible for harassing Kennedy, Derek wanted to find him before he did any harm to her or the Circle Cross.

  Every evening he drove through the streets of Valentine looking for his former accomplice, but he didn’t see him. Derek was almost to the point of believing that Lazaro had left the area when he received a call on the office phone.

  “Just checking to see if youse hirin’ now?”

  “What do you want from me?” Derek demanded. “Stop this cat-andmouse stuff and speak what’s on your mind.”

  “I’m fo sho lookin’ for a job, man.”

  “The Circle Cross doesn’t need the kind of work you do, but we do have to talk. Where can I meet you?” The line went dead, and Derek threw up his hands in frustration. He asked the sheriff to trace the call. She soon found that it had been made from a cell phone, but she didn’t learn who the caller was.

  Trying to guard Kennedy as much as possible, he went often to Riverside after supper to go riding with her. They took the trail along the river as they usually did, for in the evening the trail was shaded. Watching her as she rode, he complimented her. “You’ve come a long way, Kennedy. You don’t even need me to ride along now.”

  Slanting a teasing glance toward him, she said, “Are you getting tired of waiting on me?”

  “You have been a nu
isance ever since you came,” he said in a bantering tone. It was the first time in days he’d joked about anything. “But I can’t shirk my responsibilities until I take you to the old burying ground. I can do that the day after tomorrow, if you still want to go.”

  “I do,” she said readily.

  “I’m going to Ogallala tomorrow to an auction. They may have some machinery we can use, and I’ll be gone all day,” he said. “But I’ll keep Saturday open for you.”

  “While you’re gone, if you don’t mind, I’ll work in your office,” Kennedy stated. “I want to download some files off the Internet.”

  “Sure, go ahead,” he said readily. “You know where everything is. I may not get back tomorrow night until you’re already in bed, so we ought to decide now what time we’ll leave Saturday.”

  “I’ll be ready when you say.”

  “Nine o’clock, then,” Derek said. “It’s quite a few miles, and since we’ll be walking part of the way, I plan to make a day of it.” Before he left her at Riverside, Derek asked, “What about Santee? Do you want me to keep her in the corral close to the house?” Hesitantly, Kennedy said, “No, I don’t think so. You’ll probably think I’m loco, but even when we’re riding together, sometimes I have the feeling that someone is watching me. I’m not normally so paranoid, but I feel uneasy. Has that ever happened to you?” He looked around the home site and across the river and shook his head. “No,” he said hesitantly, “but if you feel that way, you shouldn’t go riding alone.

  You’re the most sensible woman I’ve ever known, and you won’t give in to fanciful imaginations. If you sense you’re in danger, you probably are. I still think you’re safer to leave Nebraska.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t forget I have the Morgan stubborn streak.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t forget I have the Morgan stubborn streak.”

  He frowned in exasperation. “Then I’ll come as often as I can to take you riding. But I’m worried about you. I can’t sleep at night, wondering what’s happening to you.”