The Ranchers: Destiny Bay Romances Boxed Set vol. 1 (Destiny Bay Romances - The Ranchers)

by Helen Conrad

He didn’t say a word about her staying. She slid into the bench seat across from him and picked up the plastic menu. But she could feel his gaze still on her, and that made it very difficult to concentrate on reading.

  Finally he spoke. “Do you always do this, or is it just for my benefit?”

  She looked up, startled. “Do what?”

  He gestured toward her, his eyes amused. “Do your damnedest to look like a teenage boy. Wear that hat jammed down over your eyes and your hair all shoved into it, and that shirt and those pants. Come on. Do you always dress this way? Do you ever wear a dress? Or something soft?”

  The flush was back, no matter how hard she cursed it. “No,” she said shortly, staring unseeingly at the menu. He was only teasing, and he was right on the money, but still, his words hurt, and she wasn’t sure why.

  He didn’t seem to notice he’d upset her. “Why not?” he persisted.

  Her eyes flashed as she looked up. “You want the truth? I don’t want to look ‘feminine,’ the way you mean. That kind of woman gets pushed around too much, mostly by men. I won’t be one of those patsies.”

  She stared at the menu again, so she didn’t see the hard expression come over Michael’s face. “Women as victims?” he said softly. “That’s a laugh. In my experience it’s been just the other way around.”

  He thought of his mother, and coldness filled him. Even Vanessa, though hardly of the black widow variety, had been prepared to use him in her own way. He wouldn’t be used. Not by anyone.

  He looked at Jessie again and the frost melted. Jessie wasn’t a user, he decided suddenly. She had too much pride for that.

  “I’ll have two eggs, sunny-side up, and a side of hash browns,” she was saying firmly.

  Ignoring her statement, he put down his menu and leaned across the table to her. “Anyway, I know a secret about you, Jessie,” he said, his voice a tantalizing whisper that forced her to face him, her dark eyes blinking as though she were afraid of what was coming next.

  He smiled and said softly, “You don’t resent being a woman nearly as much as you pretend. You know how I know that?”

  She didn’t respond. He reached out and took off her hat, too quickly for her to stop him.

  “Hey!” she protested, reaching for it, her braids tumbling down over her chest.

  He set the hat behind him, out of her reach, then leaned across to her again, his silver-blue eyes laughing. “You know how I know?” he repeated, and suddenly he was holding one of her braids. “If you really hated being feminine so much, you wouldn’t hang on to your beautiful hair the way you do.” He gave her braid a gentle tug. “Would you?”

  Her attention was riveted to the hand on her hair. Painfully she forced herself to meet his gaze again, and glared at him. Those mushy feelings were coming back, and she refused to give in to them.

  “Mister,” she said firmly, only the slightest quaver revealing how he was affecting her, “I dress this way because I have to. You see, I work on a ranch. That’s my life. That’s how I make my living.” She turned her hands up so that he could see the calluses, the work-roughened skin, the short, cracked nails. “I don’t waste my time getting gorgeous for some man’s benefit. I have work to do, and I do it. And I don’t beg off because it would ruin my makeup, or my manicure, or I might get grass stains on my dress. I’m a rancher. And that’s all I care about.”

  She was almost embarrassed by the ring of passion in her voice toward the end of her speech. But she meant every word.

  To her surprise, he didn’t laugh at her. Instead he frowned, and suddenly he was looking out the plate-glass window at the desert that spread toward the mountains on the other side of the highway from where the little town lay. The morning sun had tipped the mountains Navaho red, and the valley was shimmering with gold.

  “Funny. The desert seems almost beautiful today,” he mused. Then he looked back at her. “I’ll bet it’s clean out there on your ranch, isn’t it?” he said, his voice eerie. “I’ll bet you know just what’s right and what’s wrong, and where the men you hire stand. If they’re behind you or against you. If you can trust them.” His mouth twisted. “I envy you.”

  The waitress came to take their orders. Michael asked for an omelet and Jessie repeated what she wanted. When the waitress had gone, he turned back to her and asked abruptly, “What exactly were you planning to do with that reward money, Jessie Carrington? Get yourself a house in town? Buy yourself some pretty dresses? Make a down payment on a sports car?”

  Her glance was scathing. This wasn’t a topic of conversation that she relished, but she wouldn’t back away from anything. “Not on your life. I was going to get more stock for the ranch. That, and maybe a furnace for Harley, my dad. And help him fix up the café a little.”

  “Your dad?” His eyes darkened, and he looked puzzled. “You would have given that money to him?”

  Jessie took a long sip from the cup of coffee the waitress had left. “Sure. Didn’t you notice how rundown the place was?”

  Michael appeared skeptical. “You’d take care of your father before you’d buy yourself something?”

  She frowned. What was he getting at? “Of course.”

  His eyes were full of wonder. “Sometimes,” he said slowly, shaking his head, “sometimes I’m almost glad I kidnapped you, Jessie Carrington.”

  The food arrived, and he grinned, still watching her. “Almost,” he repeated. “But not quite.”

  She found herself grinning back, though she couldn’t for the life of her have said why.

  The food was delicious. They were so hungry they ate until there wasn’t a morsel left, and then Michael asked for more toast.

  Jessie watched his humor improve before her eyes, and knew that she, too, was growing more relaxed. The food, the new feeling of—what? Companionship? Well, something close to that. He teased her, told her stories, told her jokes, and she found herself laughing.

  They’d finished their meal and Michael was digging out money to pay the check, when he leaned close again, looking worried. “The waitress,” he said urgently, watching the woman from the corner of his eye. “I think she’s recognized me. She keeps giving me this look....”

  Jessie turned to see what he was talking about. The woman was looking, all right. But instead of getting alarmed, Jessie struggled to hide a grin. “I wouldn’t really worry about that if I were you,” she said nonchalantly.

  “Why not?”

  “Those looks she’s throwing your way?” She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “They don’t get many handsome men in these parts, Michael Drayton,” she said. “She’s just enjoying you while she can.”

  Michael started to say something, then for once he had the decency to look a bit abashed, and he closed his mouth. “Let’s go,” he growled, instead. Sliding out of the seat, he headed for the cashier.

  Jessie rose and followed him, but her steps were slower. Let’s go, he’d said, but what did that mean?

  “What now?” she asked as they stepped out into the sunshine. She twisted the silver bracelet she wore on one arm in a characteristic gesture. “Are you going to let me go home?”

  Both eyebrows rose. “What on earth gave you a silly idea like that?” he said. “I can’t let you out of my sight.”

  She shrugged. “I wouldn’t tell anyone.” Her voice was gruff and she avoided his eyes. “I could just get on a bus, and you’d never have to worry about me again.”

  She held her breath as she waited for his answer to her suggestion, twisting the bracelet again and again. She didn’t know whether she was afraid he would say no... or afraid he would say yes.

  He looked at her for a long time. The fingers of his good hand rubbed across his day-old growth of beard. She waited. This was it. This would decide things, decide a future’s worth of things. Her heart was beating very fast.

  “I can’t do it,” he said at last, regret evident in his frown. “I just can’t take that chance, Jessie.” He brushed her cheek. “I’m sorry.”<
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  She felt choked up, as though she might cry. Turning away quickly, she muttered, “I’ll have to go back in and call my dad. He’s going to be worried.”

  “Sure,” he said, but he came right along with her, and she knew he wasn’t going to risk her telling Harley too much.

  The telephone was on the wall near the kitchen. Jessie glanced around the restaurant as she passed through, and as she did, she saw something she hadn’t noticed before. “Look!” she whispered to Michael, coming to a stop and grabbing his arm. “Look there.”

  A customer was reading the morning paper, holding it up so that the front page was visible to anyone in the room who cared to look. “Man on the Run,” the headline screamed. “Suspect takes local woman hostage,” the smaller print said. “Last seen in Tucson area.”

  They could see that the article contained two pictures, one of Michael and Jessie’s high-school graduation shot.

  Michael swore softly, holding her hand tightly in his. It was a wonder the whole place hadn’t recognized them. “We’d better get out of here,” he murmured. She nodded, and the two of them started for the door again, just steps away from freedom.

  “Hey, mister! Hold on. Stop right where you are.”

  The voice of the waitress froze them both. There was ice in Jessie’s veins and the breath stopped in her throat. Slowly they both turned to face the woman.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Take The Money And Run

  She was coming toward them with a determined look on her face, one hand behind her back. Jessie glanced at Michael. He was cool, calm, but she could see the pulse throbbing at his temple. Should they run for it? His hand slipped around hers and held hard.

  “Hey, mister, you know what?” the waitress was saying, a flirtatious expression on her face. “You forgot something.” She whipped her hand around from behind her back for both of them to see. “Your hat!” She held it out.

  Jessie’s knees threatened to buckle. Relief filled her and she wanted to laugh. The woman smiled at Michael, and he took Jessie’s hat from her. “Thanks,” he managed to grate out.

  “Anytime.” The waitress was obviously smitten, but Michael didn’t notice. He held Jessie’s hand even more tightly as they went out the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they hurried for the car, trying to look casual.

  “North,” he told her shortly when they reached the Mustang. “Fasten your seat belt. We’re going to make tracks.”

  She did as he told her, then leaned back in the seat as he took off toward the highway. For all intents and purposes, she was with him now. She mulled over that fact, slightly in awe of it. She was with him now. But just where were they going?

  “What will happen if they catch you? To you, I mean.”

  His gaze didn’t waver from the highway and his answer when it came was another question. “Have you ever been locked up, Jessie?” he asked softly. “Have you ever felt like a caged rat, a desperate, lost thing about ready to beat itself to death against the bars of the cage rather than go on living that way?” His steely eyes glances sideways to see her reaction. “Have you?”

  The softness of his tone belied the intensity in his voice, but she still felt chilled. For some crazy reason a picture of Beau flashed through her mind again. Then she realized why. The imprisonment Michael had described fit how she’d felt married to Beau. Trapped. Panicky. But she didn’t tell him about that. She didn’t say anything at all.

  “I won’t go to jail.” Now his voice was rock hard, ice cold. “That’s not even an option here. I won’t be locked behind prison walls. Not ever again.”

  She nodded, more because she believed in his conviction than because she believed in his future. So he’d been in prison. Was that what had tempered that steel in him?

  A boy she’d known in high school had gone to prison for killing a man in a knife fight. He’d been a wild boy, an uncontrollable force that cut a swath across the peaceable landscape like a cyclone. She couldn’t believe Michael had ever been like that. Still, he must have done something awfully wrong to end up in prison.

  She needed something, some shred of evidence to cling to. She was a black-and-white person; she could either be for or against, but not neutral. She needed something, and she needed it fast.

  “You said... last night you said you weren’t guilty.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, I’m going to need more than that. Why are they after you if you’re not guilty?”

  He glanced over at her, knowing she was right and that she deserved an explanation. Still, it made him angry to have to prove anything to anyone. “I’ve been framed,” he said shortly. “There’s a man named Kerry Carter who can help clear me. I’m going to find him.”

  She nodded. Okay. That was all she needed. “Where are we going?”

  He shrugged. “North.”

  “How far north? Canada? The North Pole?”

  He glanced at her. What was the use of trying to hide his destination now? They’d be there in two hours. “Phoenix,” he replied. “The man I’m looking for has a brother in Phoenix and I’m hoping he’s there.”

  “Okay.” Phoenix. “If you’d told me last night we could have been there a lot sooner. That was some detour we took out into the desert last night.”

  “I know. Last night was a nightmare. Sometimes I feel I still haven’t woken up.”

  Jessie had mixed feelings. Sometimes nightmares could turn out to be daydreams, after all. Just then Michael pulled into a rest area along the side of the highway. She looked at him questioningly.

  “You still haven’t called your father,” he reminded her.

  “Oh.” Funny he would think of it, she’d forgotten. “Right.”

  She got out of the car and started for the telephone booth. He was right beside her. So he still didn’t trust her. She pushed her hat down low over her eyes and glared at him. “You going to tell me what to say, or are you going to leave that to me?” she asked, her voice dripping sarcasm.

  He leaned against the side of the kiosk, his grin crooked. “You can say anything you want, as long as you don’t tell him where we are.”

  She lifted the receiver.

  “Or where we’re headed.”

  She put a coin into the slot.

  “And get off fast, just in case the cops are monitoring your father’s phone. Don’t give them time to ran a trace.”

  She dialed the number, then put in the additional money the operator asked for.

  “Hello.”

  Hearing Harley’s voice made her knees a little weak all of a sudden, which surprised her. “It’s me, Jessie.”

  “Jessie, baby.” His voice was rough with emotion. “Where are you, honey? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Daddy, honest. Listen now, I’m going to tell you this quick. I’m okay and I’m going somewhere with Michael. He’s going to prove he’s innocent and I’m going to help him.”

  “No, Jessie—“

  “Yes, Daddy. I’ll call you again when I can.”

  “What’s he done to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? You don’t sound the same. You haven’t called me ‘Daddy’ since you were nine years old. What’s this man done to you?”

  With horror Jessie realized she was blushing. “Nothing Da—Harley. I just wanted to tell you I’m all right. I’m going to hang up now.”

  “Where are you, girl?”

  “Don’t worry about me.”

  “Are you in California? That’s it, isn’t it? California.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” She put down the receiver with a snap, glared at Michael and began to march back to the car. Neither of them said a word as they both got inside and Michael headed for the highway. Jessie felt as though her lungs were pushing against her heart. She looked out the window at the painted desert and tried to figure out why.

  Michael stole a glance at her now and then. She intrigued him, there was no denying it. She was such a bundle o
f contradictions. In a strange way he enjoyed having her along.

  Funny. Women had always been trouble in his life, from his mother, Pamela, right on through to Vanessa.

  Vanessa. She’d disappointed him. But he had to admit that was his own fault. He’d known Vanessa all his life and had never bothered to take a really good look at her.

  As the miles rolled by, he allowed himself to think about her. The disillusion of that final scene would be with him for a long time. Their families had assumed the two of them were betrothed from the beginning. It had started as a joke, but later it was taken seriously. Even when he’d dated other women, he’d known in the back of his mind that Vanessa was waiting for him.

  The idea had never been an unpleasant one. Probably if some great passion had shocked him out of his lethargy, he would have forgotten all about Vanessa. But that never happened.

  Vanessa was beautiful and pleasant and fun. Besides that, she was familiar. Marrying her would have been the comfortable thing to do. It would have made the families happy, and while his father had been alive, that was important to him. By the time his father had passed away, the die had been cast and he’d seen little reason to make a change. Until the day he’d walked into that warehouse and seen with his own eyes what Sky was up to.

  When he’d gone to Vanessa after confronting Sky, she’d laughed at his naivete. Suddenly he had seen the real Vanessa, a selfish, greedy woman completely devoid of anything remotely resembling a conscience.

  “Are you trying to make me believe you had no idea what Daddy was up to?” she’d scoffed.

  He’d realized then that he wasn’t really surprised. Somewhere in the back of his mind he’d known there was something about Sky that wasn’t on the up-and-up. Sky and his father had been friends. Looking back, that friendship was a little hard to understand. He’d always known the connection went back to their service in the Air Force, and when he’d been a child, he’d accepted what seemed natural. But as an adult, he’d often wondered what made these two men, so dissimilar in tastes and outlook, stay friends. Pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into shape and he didn’t like the picture they portrayed.