She sobbed, but the sobbing was abating a bit. Her struggles increased. "Stop!"
Queenie's cursing was sounding more normal, less breathy and unfocused, so he let up. Will swiveled her around until she sat on his lap again.
She struggled to get away, pushing her skirt down as best she could, but he held her close to his chest and handed her another tissue. Tears were still streaming down her face, but she was frowning mightily at him rather than looking pitiful.
"That's better," he told her.
"You spanked me, you bastard!"
That made him smile. She was definitely getting back to her usual self. "Yup, I did."
"Why'd you do a shitty thing like that?"
"Language, young lady." He pushed a lock of hair off her forehead and let his fingers trail down her cheek. "You were hysterical, and needed a little incentive to calm down."
She smacked his chest. "Yeah, well, I'm calm enough now. Get the hell away from me."
He released her at once, and she nearly tumbled off his lap, despite his movement to steady her. Catching herself and half-tripping on her skirt, she cursed at him some more, and grabbed the box of tissues, yanking out several to blow her nose.
"I hate you!"
"That's your privilege." He didn't like her hatred, but her angry emotions were better than the hysteria that came before.
She grabbed her purse off the couch and pulled out a crumpled manila envelope, throwing it at him. "Your easement papers, you asshole. I hope you drown in the river!"
"Would that make us best friends?"
"Oh!" Her eyes narrowed. "Don't you ever come near me again."
Will's heart did a little dip. He couldn't tell if she meant it or not. "If that's what you want, honey. But don't you think we ought to call the sheriff, now that you're more in control of yourself?"
Her eyebrows lifted a little, then went right back down into their angry frown. "You'd like me to stick around, wouldn't you? So you could find another excuse spank me again! Well, I'm not stupid. I'm goin' home and call from there."
So long as she called, Will didn't really care from where. He'd like to keep an eye on her, though. The road might not be safe. If that SUV was still out there, Queenie could be in serious danger. "I'll follow you back to your ranch."
"Don't you dare!"
He sighed. Her anger was going to put her in danger. "Queenie, you're not safe alone right now."
A flicker of fear passed over her eyes. "Well…"
"No well about it." He rose from the couch. "If you won't call from here, I'll follow you home. Is there someone there who can make sure you're safe?"
She shook her head. "Consuela is in town buying supplies and Daddy had to go to Austin this afternoon."
"Then I'll sit with you until someone comes home."
She bit her lip uncertainly.
"I insist."
Nodding, she gathered her purse up close to her chest and made her way toward the door.
* * *
Queenie fumed as she sat in her car, waiting for Will to look through the ranch house and give her the all-clear. It was stupid. The car that had rammed her must have been sent by Harry. It was astonishing to imagine that he'd go so far, but he was the one issuing threats, no one else.
Of course, Will didn't know that. She hadn't told him. In fact, she hadn't told him much of anything about the situation.
A tiny little piece of her, somewhere near her heart, was happy that Will was as concerned as he was. And, although his methods were painful and high-handed, he had been effective in calming her down. Her butt was still sore, in fact.
He approached her car window and she let it down.
"It's safe. No one in there. Do you always leave your doors unlocked?"
"Why would we lock them? No one's gonna come all the way out here to steal the silver."
He looked skeptical and she laughed.
"You sure are a city fella." The car door creaked slightly as she opened it and got out without waiting for his help.
He frowned a little, but waved her toward the house. They went inside through the back door, into the home's big kitchen. "You don't have to stay. I'm okay."
Will shook his head. "I'm staying until someone gets home."
She sighed. He was so stubborn. It was a little endearing, but she squashed that idea before it could lead somewhere. "Just so you know, I don't like you."
"Right. Got it."
"Do you want a soda?"
He nodded and sat down at the family table. His eyes traveled over the kitchen she took for granted, and a shadow of what might have been envy crossed his features. Looking around, Queenie wondered what her home had that his didn't. There was a family-sized wooden table in a bay window looking out on the vegetable garden in the back yard, and the cool room was decorated with colorful Mexican tiles and maple floors. It was a comfortable space, full of family warmth and togetherness. Queenie had been in Will's ranch house when the Caswells had owned it. It was as big as her family's home, and comfortable, too. But, Will was there alone. Maybe he was lonely. She wondered why he wasn't married with kids. Bachelors—especially those that weren't inclined to be hermits—didn't usually make their lives on big ranches all alone.
Queenie got them a couple of sodas and put them on the table as she pulled out her phone to call the sheriff. It took about three minutes to find out that he and his deputy were out on a call but would come by when they were done.
Queenie sat with Will, quietly sipping drinks for a little while.
"So tell me-" they both began at once. They exchanged a fleeting smile.
"Ladies first."
Queenie didn't often think of herself as a "lady" but she didn't mind going first. "I was just gonna ask you why you came to Texas."
"Ah. Childhood dream."
"You wanted to be a cowboy?"
He laughed. It was a dandy laugh, a strong and confident laugh. "You might say that. I loved the old westerns on TV, and it never went away. So, as soon as I thought I could, I bought the Caswell place and got busy trying to learn ranching."
"What did you do in Hollywood?"
"Screenwriter."
"Oh." She knew next to nothing about movie or TV production. Ranching she knew, though. "Do you like bein' on the ranch?"
"I love it! It's nearly everything I hoped it would be."
"Nearly?"
His eyebrows drew down. "Someone is killing my livestock and the sheriff doesn't seem to care."
That was unpleasant news. The Journeys had plenty of animals. If someone was harming people's critters, the sheriff should have been right on it. Certainly, he would have been on it if it had come from any of the ranchers she knew. She felt guilty thinking of Will as an unwelcome city slicker. He had a right to be there as much as the next guy. And he had a right to have his property safe, and have the sheriff investigate if it wasn't. "I'm sorry."
He waved her apology away. "Not your fault. I'll figure it out."
"If you need help…"
"I thought you didn't like me." His sudden grin was fresh, and she envisioned the little boy he must have been, playing cowboys and rustlers with cap pistols.
But, she didn't like him. She didn't! "I'm bein' neighborly."
"Ah." He looked at her, those laser blue eyes intense on her features, and a little of the ice she was trying to keep solid in her heart melted. He reached out and touched her cheek. Without thinking, she tilted her face into his hand.
Consuela came home at that moment, bustling into the kitchen with a box of groceries in her arms. "Whew! It's hot out there!"
Will withdrew his hand and Queenie saw the twinkle in his eyes. "It's hot in here, too."
* * *
Chapter 4
Among Will's ranch hands, there seemed to be consensus that the killing was happening from outside, but he had his doubts. The chickens had had their necks broken without fuss that might alert men in the bunkhouse, or in the main house.
As he
and Marco interviewed the hands, he met one who raised his suspicions. The fellow's name was Reno Casteneda. He was swarthy-skinned, with dark, glittering eyes and he smelled of cheap cologne. A little conversation with Marco before the interview indicated that Casteneda was a quiet man who kept to himself. He wasn't particularly friendly with the other hands, and Marco knew little about his life away from the ranch. He said that Casteneda had come with the ranch, and had been a long-time employee of the Caswells'. Marco had kept the man on the payroll because he was particularly good with the horses. But based upon Marco's body posture during the interview with Casteneda, Will could see there was no love lost between the two men.
Reno seemed tense to Will as they talked. He noted that his hands were often fisted.
"I got no idea who killed them animals, boss."
Will nodded. It had become the standard answer from his men. "It's a big mystery. Have you seen anyone loitering around who doesn't belong here? Or have you noticed any cowhands working in areas they don't normally work?"
"Nope," he replied. "I ain't. But it ain't like there's a restriction. The men can go anywhere, so long as they don't make no trouble."
"True enough. Is there anyone who would raise your suspicions, Reno?"
He dropped his eyes. "Nope."
Will eyed Casteneda's tense shoulders, and the way he looked at Will's boots more than in his eyes. "Anyone around the area, or in Sonora, who you know has a problem with city folk?"
"I dunno. I don't go askin' about people's business."
"And you haven't overheard anything about that?"
The man looked down at the dirt at his feet. "Nope."
Smiling, Will tried to take the tension out of the interview. "Marco tells me that you used to drive a big rig before you settled in Sonora. What made you change jobs?"
Casteneda shrugged. "Didn't like being shut up in that box."
"What did you haul?"
"Milk, mostly. Sometimes cattle."
"Do you miss it?"
"Can I get back ta work now? I got some horse stalls ta clean out."
"Sure." Will offered his hand and found the reciprocal hand to be sweaty-palmed, though the grip was firm. "Thanks, Reno."
"Yeah."
Will suspected the man greatly, but without the sheriff's help, he was on his own. There was no proof, and few ways of getting any. But maybe he could devise a plan to track down the vandal or catch him in the act. He had a few ideas.
* * *
"I can't prove it, Queenie, but I'm lookin' into it. The investigation ain't over."
"Thanks, sheriff, but I don't see how come you haven't arrested Harry. He's clearly the guy behind the incident."
"No proof, like I said. All I got is your word that he threatened you. Nobody's seen that SUV you described, and you couldn't say much about the woman drivin'. Can't even say for sure it was a female!"
"It sure looked like a woman to me, sheriff. Long hair, big sunglasses, small hands on the wheel. It had to be a woman!"
He snorted, and Queenie's temper flared.
"That ain't much to go on, girl."
"But sheriff, if I was makin' this up, would my car be damaged in the back?"
"You ain't never lied to me, that's true. But then, I didn't know you was married, neither. You have to look at it from a legal point of view, girl. Maybe you backed into a wall. I gotta have evidence, maybe other eye-witnesses. You sure there weren't nobody else on the road?"
"I was alone on the road, except for that SUV. And I used to be married. I'm not anymore." He was so stubborn! And she couldn't do this all by herself. She was run ragged as it was. "Please, Sheriff Brown. I need your help. Can't you look for the SUV in town?"
"Yep, I got my deputy lookin'. You let me worry on how to handle this investigation. And if you see anythin' suspicious, gimme a call, hear?"
"Yeah. Okay." They hung up and Queenie's ire deflated. Things were taking too damn long. Anything could happen, even another attempted assault. She wondered if she'd said anything more descriptive to Will, right after the accident, something she didn't remember now because she'd been so hysterical. It was grasping at straws, but she had to do something.
Besides, she hadn't seen Will in two days. Not that it mattered, she reminded herself. She didn't hate him anymore, but she didn't want to start up anything either. He was okay to fantasize about, but after Wild Horse Wilderness found a new guitar player—Harry's replacement was a total flake—they'd be back on the road, playing bars and clubs around Texas and trying to get noticed. Will would hardly want to tag along.
She could have auditioned for the Austin Symphony Orchestra, closer to home, and, since she knew someone in the string section, she had a decent shot at getting in, but her first love was country music. She wanted to focus on that for a few more years. Nashville might be the best place to go to get her original songs heard, but that was away from family and friends even more than she was with the band's road schedule.
Anyway, there was no room for a relationship in all that travel and the exhaustion it brought with it. It nagged at her that she was devoting all her efforts on her music while other parts of life passed her by. As her brothers got married, they were also going to start families. Families that, if she continued down her current path, she would not have for herself.
The idea of nieces and nephews was welcome, but did she always want to be Aunt Queenie and never Mama?
Which made her think of Will again. There was a spark between them, albeit a dangerous one. Too dangerous. She'd have to give up part of herself, share herself with someone else, and, after Harry, that seemed like a pretty stupid idea. Harry had taken her love and twisted it up in knots until the good parts had all seeped out, like a wrung dishrag. Will probably wasn't the same kind of guy, but she was afraid to take a chance and be wrong about him. Her track record was crappy.
Nevertheless, she had to deal with Harry sending somebody to rough her up, and maybe Will could help with that. If he remembered something she'd said that might give the sheriff more to go on, it was smart to find out.
Calling him was an option, but she wanted to get out of the house, away from her confusing thoughts. Maybe seeing him again would pop the bubble she'd begun to blow for him. She gathered up her stuff and headed out to her car. The bumper was thoroughly dented after the crime, but it was still drivable.
It didn't take her long to get to the old Caswell place.
Arthur Spencer opened the door when she knocked. They knew each other from church, though she was an unreliable worshipper, going to Mass when she was on the ranch but not while she was on the road.
She'd been expecting Will, but she realized with a start that that would have been unlikely. Will was undoubtedly out on his ranch somewhere.
"Hi, Arthur…I'm here to see Will. Is he around?"
The man smiled, his teeth bright white though a little crooked. "It's purely a pleasure to see you, Queenie. Come in." He pressed the screen door open and Queenie entered the cool interior.
It hadn't been changed much since the Caswells moved out. There was the same white wainscoting and blue sprigged wallpaper. The furniture was updated—leather with bright blue pillows scattered around. It looked pleasant and welcoming, though it needed a few more knick-knacks to make it a little more homey. When she'd been there last, she'd been so upset, she hadn't noticed much at all.
"Thanks, Arthur."
"Will is out on the property, but he should be back soon. It's gettin' late in the day."
"Oh…"
"Why don't you take a seat and wait for him? Want some iced tea? Dr. Pepper?"
She wasn't sure if she should wait or not. The idea made her slightly uncomfortable, but she couldn't quite figure out why. However, she wouldn't get what she wanted unless she talked to Will, so she nodded and thanked Arthur, accepting his offer of sweet tea.
The sitting room where Arthur sent her was a little more familiar to her than the main room. Some of the features were
memorable from the day of the incident, though she hadn't gotten a full impression of the place through her tears and upset. It smelled warm from the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, and there was a slight scent of lemon furniture wax.
It wasn't long after her tea was served that Will came into the room. He looked a little tired, and the line between his brows was deeper as well. However, he greeted her with a big smile on his face. "It's my favorite neighbor! Come to visit?"
A gentle thrill went through her at the sight of him. He was so handsome, with his sun-tipped dark red hair and bright eyes. Queenie tamped down the urge to run her hands over his broad shoulders and thick biceps. Shaking her head slightly, she quickly came to the matter which drew her to visit.
"Not exactly. The sheriff is having some trouble figuring out who tried to ram me the other day. I was hoping you might remember something I said." A slight heat brushed her cheeks. "I was a little…upset."
He sat next to her on the couch. "Yeah, you were. Well…you didn't say much."
She rose. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
Will took her hand and pulled her back down beside him. "You're not bothering me. Let's see…you said that you'd been hit by an SUV, and that you thought the driver was trying to run you off into the drainage ditch."
"Did I describe the driver?"
"Not really. You thought it was a woman."
Queenie sighed. It looked like she'd been so hysterical that all she'd done was blubber. She withdrew her hand from his and knotted her fingers together in her lap. She watched Will's face, looking for any hint of new information. "That's all I said?"
He nodded, covering her hands with one of his while he brushed his fingertips along her cheek. As she'd done before, she leaned into that warm hand, then caught herself. "I should go."
"Don't go."
Will got closer, and she could feel his breath against her lips.
"I…I can't stay."
"No?"
His lips hovered over hers, nearly touching her.
"Please…"
"I thought you'd never ask." Will's lips took hers in a searing kiss. It was rough and demanding as though he couldn't hold back, but Queenie didn't fight him. She couldn't fight him; her heart wouldn't have been in it. She wanted that kiss; she'd dreamed about it. As his tongue fought with hers, she couldn't do more than press herself against him and encourage his arms to come around her.
Spanking Her Highness Page 5
