by R. C. Ryan
Mick watched her for a minute longer. “So. What’ll it be?”
Ingrid gave a curt shrug of her shoulders. “We’ll stay here.”
Luke shoved away from the table. “Well, now that that’s settled, it’s time to thank Mick by cleaning up this kitchen.”
As Ingrid started to rise, he turned to Lily. “I’m thinking we’ll give your big sister a break, and you and I will do the dishes.”
“Okay.” The little girl was up and reaching for a dish towel before Luke had time to fill the sink.
Grateful for the break, Ingrid headed to the parlor to work on her ledgers.
Mick, free for the evening, drifted off to his room to watch television.
“Tell me more about your grandparents, Luke.” Lily picked up a plate and dried it carefully before setting it on a shelf.
Luke realized the little girl was fixated on the things she’d never had. “My grandfather is Francis Xavier Malloy.”
“That’s a funny name.”
“You think so?” He considered. “I guess it is to some people, but it doesn’t matter. I never call him that anyway. I call him Grandpop, but my grandmother calls him Frankie.”
“What’s your grandmother’s name?”
“We all call her Gram Gracie. And Grandpop calls her his Gracie Girl.”
“Is she real old?”
“She would probably seem that way to you. But she’s not as old as her father, the Great One.”
“Why do you call him that?”
“Because when I was a kid, it was easier to say that than to call him Great-Grandpop. Besides, when he first came to live with us, he was a stuffed shirt, and not at all like the grandfatherly type. So he became the Great One. He loves the name.”
“What’s a stuffed shirt?”
“A person who’s so stiff and formal, he’d probably break in half if he ever tried to bend the rules a little.”
“Is he still like that?”
Luke thought a minute. “He’s about as far removed from being a stuffed shirt as he’ll ever be. He still misses the good life he left behind in Hollywood, but he’s learned to love the ranch, too.”
“Do your grandpop Frank and gram Gracie sit by the fire with a blanket over their laps, like the grandparents in my books?”
That had Luke chuckling. “Don’t ever suggest that if you’re around them. Grandpop can still work as hard as any wrangler on our ranch. And my gram Gracie often rides up in the hills for weeks at a time on her safaris.”
“What are safaris?”
“That’s what people call travels in Africa to study wild animals. But here it just means a trip to the hills for a few days.”
“Oh. I read about Africa in my geography book. Next time, I hope I read about safaris. How about your…Great One? Does he sit around with a blanket on his lap?”
“Never. He keeps everyone in the family on their toes with his outrageous demands.”
“Like what?”
“Well, for one thing, he loves exotic food and drinks.”
“What’s exotic?”
“Fancy-schmancy meals you’d find in the most expensive restaurants in the world.”
That had Lily giggling behind her hand. “Does he ever get any?”
“Does he ever. Yancy is constantly surprising him by making them exactly as the Great One remembers from his younger Hollywood days.”
“You keep saying that. What are Hollywood days?”
“That’s where the Great One lived and worked.”
“Oh.” The little girl looked suitably impressed. “Does the Great One drink”—she had to think a moment before continuing—“fancy-schmancy drinks, too? Or does he drink longnecks like you and Mick?”
Luke gave a snort of laughter. “Li’l Bit, he considers beer lower than soda pop. He prefers martinis. He calls that a gentleman’s drink.”
“And does Yancy make what the Great One likes?”
“You bet.” He bent down, as though telling her a grand secret. “You know what?”
“What?” The single word was a whisper while her eyes went wide.
“I’d rather have an ice-cold longneck and Mick’s roast beef anytime, but I’d never admit that to Yancy or the Great One.”
She giggled.
After finishing the dishes, they strolled into the parlor, where Ingrid was busy at the desk.
She looked up at the clock on the mantel. “You two took your time.”
Lily’s smile was radiant. “Luke was telling me all about his grandparents, Frankie and Grace, and his great-grandfather the Great One. His grandma goes on…” Forgetting the rest of it, she looked over at Luke.
“Safaris.”
“That’s right. Safaris. That’s what they call adventures in Africa to see wild animals.”
Ingrid arched a brow. “That’s pretty impressive.” She turned to Luke. “You sure you aren’t a teacher posing as a rancher?”
He gave a mock bow. “Just one of my many talents, ma’am.”
They shared a laugh.
Seeing Lily yawning behind her hand, Ingrid said, “You may want to skip playing Fish tonight and save it for another night when you’re awake enough to beat Luke.”
“Okay.” Lily smiled up at him. “Can we play tomorrow instead?”
“Sure thing.” He winked. “Since I intend to win, I’d rather beat you when you’re in fighting form.”
Laughing, she called, “’Night, Luke. I loved hearing about your family.”
“’Night, Li’l Bit. I loved talking about them.”
Ingrid sealed an envelope and returned a pile of bills to a file folder. “I’ll be upstairs in a few minutes, honey.”
A short time later, as she got to her feet and started up the stairs, she hugged her arms to her chest at the sound of thunder in the distance. “Getting colder outside. Storm’s coming.”
Ingrid descended the stairs to find Luke in the parlor, seated in front of a roaring fire.
Some of the sadness disappeared from her eyes. “Oh, that feels good.”
Seeing the way she eyed the paperwork piled on her desk, he held up a longneck and indicated the rocker beside his. “Let it go. You’ve done enough for one day.”
She settled herself in the rocker and gave a soft sigh. “No matter what I do, it’s never enough.” She glanced at the bottle in his hand. “Where did you find that?”
“Hidden behind the milk. I hope it’s not part of Mick’s stash.” He took a long pull before passing it to her.
She took a grateful sip. Suddenly, her eyes danced with laughter. “That old sweetie. Do you think he was hiding this?”
“Could be. But at least he shared some over supper. If I find out this one is his last, I’ll have to make a trip to town tomorrow and restock the larder.”
Ingrid laughed and leaned her head back, letting the heat of the fire seep into her bones. “Do you want to know what Lily prayed for tonight?”
He looked over.
“You and your family.” She turned her head slightly, meeting his gaze. “She’s falling under your spell, you know.”
“That’s awesome.”
“You mean an awesome responsibility.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She took another drink of beer before passing the bottle back to him. “It means you’re becoming important in her young life. She looks up to you, Luke. I hope you realize how serious that can be to a little girl.”
He nodded. “She’s become special to me, too. She’s a really sweet kid. And that’s a tribute to you. Mick told me you’re more a mother to her than Nadine is. Seeing the two of you together, I agree. You’re setting a fine example for Lily. She’s smart and independent. She’s got the whole world ahead of her.”
“I hope you’re right.”
When he offered her another drink, she shook her head. “Thanks. I’ve had enough. You finish it.”
He emptied the bottle and set it aside.
They sat in companion
able silence for long minutes, enjoying the sizzle of flames, the soft patter of rain on the roof.
Ingrid roused herself enough to push out of the rocker and get to her feet. “If I stay here any longer, I’ll be asleep. This was nice. Thanks for sharing. Good night, Luke.”
“’Night.”
At the stairway she paused. “Do you want the light on or off?”
“You can turn it off. I’ll just wait until the fire burns low before I head up.”
When she was gone, he sat staring into the flames. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent an evening just sitting with a woman in front of the fire, without making a move. But with Ingrid, it seemed the most natural thing in the world.
Had it been his imagination, or was she beginning to soften toward him?
Not that it mattered, he thought. Neither of them had time to develop a relationship. He was just putting off the inevitable. Though he was reluctant to leave until the sheriff resolved this situation, he knew it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later they would be able to get on with their lives, and he would return to his own ranch. He knew his family was able to function without him, but there was a certain amount of guilt knowing he was neglecting his own herds to help Ingrid with hers.
He checked the grate and closed the fire screen before heading up the stairs.
In his room he didn’t bother with the light as he nudged off his boots and tossed his shirt on a chair.
He’d just unsnapped his jeans when he heard a sound like a gunshot, and for a moment his hands paused in midair.
Thunder? It sounded close, too.
At the same instant, he heard the distinct splinter of glass.
In one quick motion he snatched up his rifle and made a frantic dash down the hall, kicking in the door to Ingrid’s room.
She was standing in a pool of lamplight, staring at the shattered glass that littered her bedroom floor.
Luke snapped off the light and threw himself against her, using the weight of his body to press her into the shadows before rushing to the broken window.
Instead of gunshots, all he could hear was the sound of an engine. Instead of a shooter, all he could see was the glare of red taillights as a truck disappeared into the night.
Chapter Twelve
Luke turned to Ingrid. She hadn’t moved. Her eyes, wide and unblinking, mirrored the shock she was feeling. She looked absolutely thunderstruck.
He crossed the room and cupped his palm to her cheek. “You okay?”
“I…yes. I guess so. I didn’t even know what I’d heard at first. Then the window shattered, and I…” A shudder passed through her.
Seeing her delayed reaction, he gathered her close and simply held her as tremor after tremor rocked her.
She stood still, absorbing his quiet strength and breathing deeply before pushing a little away. “I know I should have dropped to the floor, but I couldn’t seem to move. I felt nailed to the spot. I know it was wrong. I was making myself even more of a target, but I…” She let the words trail off.
“It’s a natural reaction when your life is threatened. You freeze.”
“I’ve never…” She tried again. “I’ve never been in the line of fire before.” Her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, Luke, what if that had been Lily?”
“Hey now. Don’t go there.” He closed his hands over her shoulders and simply held her.
Mick raced into the room, red-eyed and bewhiskered, wearing a ratty robe hastily tossed over his long johns. “I heard a gunshot.”
He looked down at the glass littering the floor, before his eyes narrowed on Ingrid. “You hurt, girl?”
“No. But whoever fired that shot had time to fire again. If Luke hadn’t come racing in to drag me out of the light, I could be dead by now.”
The old man had to clear his throat several times before he managed to say, “I’m glad you were here, son.”
“Me too.” Luke kept his hand on Ingrid’s shoulder, propelling her toward the doorway. “Let’s go downstairs and call the sheriff.”
Seeing the door to Lily’s room still closed, Ingrid stepped inside quietly to assure herself that the little girl was safe and sleeping.
Luke took those few moments to return to his room for his shirt and boots.
When Ingrid emerged, she said softly, “I guess she slept right through it.”
“Good.” Luke took her hand as they descended the stairs, as much for himself as for her. He felt the need to hold on to her, to be assured that she was truly safe.
Once in the kitchen, Luke phoned Eugene Graystoke, while Mick started a fresh pot of coffee.
The three of them sat around the table, talking in low tones.
“Did you recognize the vehicle?” Mick eyed Luke over the rim of his cup.
“It was too dark. All I could see were the taillights.”
“I wonder how long the shooter was standing out there in the night, waiting for a light to go on upstairs.”
Luke nodded. “I was just wondering the same thing.” He turned to Ingrid. “If you had a dog, a big, barking dog, this couldn’t have happened. You would have had plenty of warning.”
“Tippy was big. And loyal. And fierce.” She pressed a fist to her mouth to stop her lips from trembling. “A lot of good it did.”
He reached over to close a hand on hers.
By the time they heard the crunch of tires on the gravel driveway an hour later, the three of them had gone over every detail of those few moments, speculating on the shooter, without once mentioning the names of the two men they suspected of having done the deed.
Sheriff Graystoke’s face was grim as he greeted them and sat at the table to hear the details.
Mick handed him a steaming cup of coffee, which he barely tasted. “I want to see your room, Miss Larsen.”
When Ingrid started to stand, Luke saw the weariness in her eyes and gave a quick shake of his head. “I’ll go up. You stay here with Mick.” To the sheriff he explained, “Lily is still asleep up there. We’ll need to keep things quiet.”
Eugene nodded in understanding. “No need for words. I just need to see the crime scene.”
Luke led the way up the stairs. Once in Ingrid’s bedroom, Luke snapped on the light to allow the sheriff to study the shattered window and the shards of glass littering the floor.
After several minutes staring out the window, Eugene Graystoke turned toward the doorway. “Leave the light on while I head downstairs. I want to see what it looks like from outside.”
In the kitchen, the sheriff asked Ingrid to go to her room and stand in the spot where she’d been standing when the gunshot occurred.
Seeing the look in her eyes, Mick got slowly to his feet. “I’m going with you, girl.”
While Ingrid and Mick made their way to her room, Luke and Graystoke walked outside to stand in the yard below Ingrid’s window.
As she came into view above them, the sheriff’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Look at her. As clear as if she’s onstage in a spotlight.” He hissed out an oath of frustration. “Nobody in these parts ever feels the need to draw down a shade or close a drape. We don’t expect something like this in the middle of nowhere. At least”—he spat a curse—“not on my watch.”
Luke’s voice was rough with anger. “I know you take it personally, Eugene. So do I.”
The sheriff turned to look at him. “What’s eating at me is the fact that I don’t have the manpower to keep Ingrid and her sister safe, Luke.”
“I do.” Luke’s eyes were hard as flint. “Now I just have to find a way to persuade them to come home with me.”
“That would solve the problem, at least in the short term.” Eugene started toward the back porch. “Maybe I can help.”
The sheriff sat at the kitchen table, completing his report. While he worked, he accepted a plate of scrambled eggs and bacon from Mick’s hand. He watched as the old man worked off his frustration at the stove. But when Mick tried to get Ingrid to eat, she refused, c
hoosing instead to drink coffee and pace the length of the kitchen and back.
Across the room, Luke watched in silence, knowing each of them had to deal with their fears in their own way.
Finally Eugene Graystoke tucked away his papers and drained his fourth cup of coffee.
Ingrid stopped her pacing and took a seat across from him at the table. “Well?”
He steepled his hands. “I’ll send my deputy Archer Stone out here at first light to scour the area and see if he can find any shell casings. The rain will probably wash away the tire tracks. If there’s even a trace, I’ll have Archer make a mold for the state police to trace. I also intend to interview both Lon Wardell and Bull Hammond. But I have to confess, without hard evidence, this isn’t something easily resolved. And while I’m in the mood for some honesty, I might as well tell you that this was no random act. You were clearly the intended victim of this shooting. From where I was standing outside, there was no mistaking you in the window.”
He watched Ingrid’s face grow pale and lowered his voice. “Miss Larsen, it’s my duty as a lawman to advise you to seek a safe haven.”
Her chin lifted in a gesture of defiance. “Are you saying I should leave my own home?”
“I’m not talking about forever. But I do believe you should leave here for a while. At least until this shooter is identified.”
She got to her feet. “I have a ranch to run. A ranch I could lose if I don’t keep a tight rein on things.”
“The ranch isn’t nearly as important as the life you could lose.” Before she could protest, he added, “If you’re not worried about yourself, I urge you to think about that little girl asleep upstairs.”
“Lily?” Visibly shaken, she sank back down to her chair. “You think someone would harm her?”
“What better way to hurt you than to hurt the ones you love?”
His words brought a stunned silence to the room. Ingrid turned to look at Mick, whose hand had paused in midair. His brow was creased in a frown.
“My family ranch can offer a safe haven, Sheriff.” Luke’s voice, calm and assured, had Ingrid looking up. “Our house is big enough to accommodate a dozen houseguests without even feeling crowded. And there are enough wranglers around that anyone foolish enough to try to invade our space and cause any trouble to a guest would be outnumbered ten to one.”
