by R. C. Ryan
Kirby watched with growing concern as the two brothers tossed a dozen or more snowballs at one another, hurling vicious oaths that sounded more like soldiers in mortal combat than brothers unleashing pent-up energy. Both brothers looked a mess, with their hair plastered to their heads, faces bright red from a combination of the energy exerted and the cold from the snowballs hitting with deadly accuracy. She debated the wisdom of stepping between them to keep this from escalating into an all-out war.
Before she could do anything, the two were smearing snow on each other’s faces, and laughing hysterically as they slapped shoulders. They walked side by side until they reached her at the top of the steps.
“Good aim,” Jonah was saying.
“You too, bro. That last one went right down my neck.” Casey opened the front of his parka and shook snow from his soggy shirt.
“Exactly where I aimed it.”
Laughing like loons, they stepped into the mudroom, still complimenting each other on their skill.
Kirby observed and listened in astonishment.
Since she’d grown up without siblings, she hadn’t known what to expect. But from the fierceness of their snowball fight, she’d expected them to continue the rivalry. Instead, they were practically patting each other on the back.
Men, she thought. She had a lot to learn about them—especially these brothers, who continued to surprise her. Scrapping one minute, laughing together the next.
After a long, hot shower and a change of clothes, Kirby strode into the kitchen and found Bo and Chet standing by the fireplace, each holding a longneck and talking in low tones.
She paused. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb—”
“You’re not disturbing us.” Bo waved her over. “Billy’s looking for something in the pantry, but he left a tray of drinks. Help yourself.”
She picked up a tulip glass of white wine and noted the loaves of fresh bread still warm from the oven, lined up in a basket on the counter. Something bubbled on the stove and the heavenly fragrance had her mouth watering.
“…going to have to replace that culvert under the road next spring,” Chet continued. “But after the work done by Casey and Jonah, it should hold through the winter.”
“Good.” Bo tipped up his bottle and drank. “Maybe you should put up a notice of some kind along that stretch of road so the wranglers remember to slow down.”
Chet nodded. “I’ll get at that tomorrow.”
Bo turned to Kirby. “So you’ve driven a backhoe before?”
She arched a brow.
Before she could say a word, he added, “I saw Casey turn over the wheel to you. Quite a compliment, since he rarely allows anyone to drive his baby. He treats that machine like it was made of pure gold.”
She knew her face was flaming. He’d seen that? What else had Casey’s father seen?
Just then Casey strolled into the kitchen and gave her one of his sexy smiles, sending her heart into overdrive.
His dark hair still bore droplets of water from the shower. His jeans were clean, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled to the elbows. Even his boots looked as though they’d been freshly polished.
He reached for a longneck and took a long pull on his beer before saying to his father, “What’s this about gold?”
“The backhoe. I was telling Kirby that I’ve never known you to trust anybody to drive it.”
Casey shot her a quick grin. “Kirby’s not just anybody.”
To cover her embarrassment, she rushed to explain. “I told Casey I drove my uncle’s backhoe when I was in high school. Of course,” she added, “it had an open cab and only a couple of controls. As different from that fancy machine out in the barn as flying a kite and thinking that could make me a jet pilot.”
Casey touched a finger to her cheek. “Don’t sell yourself short, Sunshine. I bet you would’ve had that sweet machine mastered in a couple of hours.”
“In your dreams, cowboy.”
The two shared a laugh as Bo and Chet joined in.
By the time the rest of the family had drifted into the kitchen, the talk had turned to the weather, and the fact that more snow was predicted in the coming week.
Casey and Kirby stood sipping their drinks, shoulders touching, smiles filled with secrets as the conversation swirled around them.
“Great dinner, Billy.” Casey shoved away from the table, grateful that the meal had finally ended.
Not that he didn’t love Billy’s pot roast with all the trimmings. Garlic mashed potatoes. Orange-glazed carrots. And those lighter-than-air biscuits. But his blood was still hot from that interrupted scene on the backhoe, and he’d come up with the perfect excuse to get Kirby away from his never-ending family, and hopefully back into his arms.
He turned to Kirby as she got to her feet. “Have you heard from Chief Crain?”
She shook her head. “Not a word.”
“Would you like to head into town? On Fridays he always works late, since so many wranglers spend their paychecks at Nonie’s. Noble can always count on one or two cowboys drinking too much. He likes to stick around and see that nobody gets out of hand.”
His grandmother touched a napkin to her lips. “Why not wait until morning? Kirby can call Noble at his office. Besides,” she added, “You wouldn’t want to miss dessert. Billy’s made your favorite. Black Forest chocolate layer cake.”
She looked around the table. “Why don’t we take dessert around the fireplace in the great room?”
Egan took his wife’s hand. “Sounds perfect, Meggie.”
As she and Egan led the way, the others began to follow.
Casey put a hand on Kirby’s arm. “I’ll leave it up to you. A long, moonlight drive into town, or dessert with the family?”
Before she could answer there was a knock on the door. Everyone paused while Bo hurried through the mudroom and returned moments later trailed by the police chief.
Noble greeted all of them before directing his words to Kirby. “’Evening, Kirby. I hope you don’t mind this interruption. I thought I’d bring you up to date on what we’ve learned.”
“Good.” Meg gave him her most welcoming smile. “Your timing is perfect. You just saved Casey and Kirby a long drive to town. Please join us in the great room, Noble. I do hope you like Billy’s Black Forest chocolate cake.”
The chief’s smile widened. “I’ve never been known to turn down an offer to sample one of Billy’s special desserts, Miss Meg.”
As Casey trailed the others from the kitchen, he gave a strained smile and watched his evening’s plans going up in smoke.
“Hold on.” He put a hand on Kirby’s arm, allowing the others to go ahead. “Maybe,” he whispered, “we’ll find time after Noble leaves to check on the mustang out in the barn.”
“Didn’t you do that before dinner?”
He gave her his most potent smile. “Yeah. But an injured animal can never have too many visits from the doctor and his assistant. Especially if the assistant needs to be carried to the barn and back, giving said doctor the perfect excuse to hold her in his arms.”
She laughed aloud as the truth dawned. “Why, Casey Merrick. I do believe you’re a very devious man.”
“Guilty as charged, ma’am. Does this mean you approve?”
Her smile held a thousand secrets. “I think it would be a good thing, once the chief leaves, to pay a visit to that mustang. Just so she knows we haven’t abandoned her, of course.”
He leaned close enough to brush her cheek with his lips, sending a shiver of anticipation along her spine. “A woman after my own heart.”
Chapter Fifteen
Noble Crain polished off a generous slice of cake and downed his second cup of coffee while keeping up a steady stream of small talk. It was obvious that he’d had years of experience putting anxious people at ease in his company.
“Billy, I haven’t had cake this good since the last time I paid a call here.”
The cook smiled his pleasure at the ch
ief’s compliment.
Then Noble lamented the weather with Hammond and Egan. Talked crops with Chet, Bo, and his sons, and remarked on a photo of Liz’s that had appeared in a recent nature magazine, causing both Liz and her mother to beam with pride.
At last Noble turned to Kirby. “You’ll be happy to know that Myrtle has hired someone from town to clean the apartment. She wanted me to tell you that she’ll replace anything that was damaged, and she promises that all the clothes that were tossed everywhere will be carefully returned to the closet. She knows that you’re renting on a weekly basis, until you can take possession of your uncle’s ranch, but she insists she’ll need at least another week before you can move back into the apartment. Of course, there will be no rental fee for the time you had to spend away.”
“I’m happy to give her whatever time she needs, as long as I can find someplace in town where I can stay.”
At once, Meg waved a hand to dismiss her suggestion. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re like family now, Kirby.”
“But it could be another week—”
Meg merely smiled. “I heard Noble. You’re welcome to spend as much time here as you need.”
“Thank you, Miss Meg.”
Kirby shook her head in wonder at so many kindnesses before turning to the police chief. “Between the Merrick family and Myrtle Fox, this is so much more than I’d hoped for. I’ll be sure to call Myrtle and thank her.”
“Good. Good.” Noble Crain’s manner turned serious. “Now then. The state police have sent me their report. The fingerprints lifted at your apartment match those of the escapee.”
There was a collective gasp. All eyes were on the chief now. Though no one spoke, there was a sudden hum of electricity in the room. Kirby felt it as surely as though sparks were shooting off. Though she’d been warned that the escaped convict was probably behind all of this, it seemed so much more sinister hearing it confirmed by the police chief.
“There’s no trace of your truck yet. By now our convict could be hundreds of miles away in another state, and that may be where they’ll find your truck.”
Noble looked around at the others. “Finding a vehicle to steal in that stretch of wilderness must have been like a gift to a desperate man. And using the truck’s GPS was a real bonus.” He turned back to Kirby. “I’m sorry to say the few belongings he stole from your place have probably already been pawned. The authorities will distribute a description of the items in the hope that someone will recognize them and give us a lead.”
He crossed the room and took her hand. “I’m really sorry for all your troubles, Kirby. I know it’s not the sort of welcome you were hoping for when you returned to Wyoming.”
“Thank you, Chief.” She took in a breath. “I’ll admit it was a shock. But now that I’ve had time to think it over, I realize how fortunate I am. All he stole were things. And things can be replaced.”
“Exactly.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it. “Some folks who’ve been victimized never get to that point. They get stuck in the what-if and the why-me. I’m glad you’re able to move on.”
Hammond cleared his throat. “So, Noble, have the authorities given the all clear around here?”
The chief nodded. “As far as we know he has no family here in Wyoming. He’s Southern-born. Mississippi. Now that the FBI is on the case, they’re watching that part of the country, expecting him to try to make contact with relatives or old friends willing to help him with food and shelter.”
“That’s a relief.” Meg closed a hand over Egan’s, her eyes crinkling in a smile. “Now my men can feel safe going back into the high country.”
Egan brushed a kiss on her cheek. “You mean you can feel safe when we go there.”
“Exactly.”
Their remarks brought smiles to everyone’s lips.
Noble got to his feet. “If there are no more questions, I’ll head on back to town. Being Friday night, I like to be there in case a wrangler with money in his pockets starts feeling a little too frisky.”
With Meg and Egan leading the way, he called his goodbyes to the others before leaving the room.
After his departure the family remained, discussing the excitement of having had an escaped prisoner in their vicinity, and their relief that things could get back to normal.
Finally Hammond got to his feet, stifling a yawn. “Morning comes early. I’ll say good night.”
As he passed Kirby he paused to give her one of those direct stares. “I’m sorry that fellow helped himself to your things, but like you said, things can be replaced. Good night, girl.”
When he left, the others began to follow suit, drifting off to their rooms.
Casey announced to no one in particular, “Think I’ll head out to the barn and see how the mustang’s doing.” With a smile he turned to Kirby. “Maybe you’d like—”
Bo crossed the room and dropped an arm around his shoulder. “I’ll go with you. Every time I see you doctoring an animal, I’m reminded that my rebellious son is now an honest-to-goodness veterinarian and it gives me a real jolt of pride and pleasure.”
“Thanks, Pop. If you’re sure you’re not too tired…?”
“Never too tired to watch my son the doctor in action.”
“Well then.” Casey looked at her. “’Night, Kirby.”
“Good night, Casey. ’Night, Bo.”
With a last, wistful glance at Kirby, Casey turned away as he and his father headed to the mudroom for parkas.
“That’s a nasty wound.” Bo leaned on the railing as Casey knelt in the stall and examined the mustang’s leg.
Though the animal was still skittish and backed into a corner at the sight of humans, Casey was able to determine that the injury was healing nicely.
“About fifty percent better than when I found her.” Casey wiped bits of straw from his hands as he got to his feet. “The antibiotics are doing their job. And it doesn’t hurt to have her confined so she can’t re-injure that leg. Add to that a healthy diet, and she’s soon going to be strong enough to have a good life.”
“I’m glad you found her when you did. She probably wouldn’t have survived that snowstorm.”
Casey nodded and stepped out of the stall to stand beside his father. “If cold and starvation didn’t do her in, I’m sure the predators would have smelled the blood and moved in for the kill, knowing she was too weak to fight.”
“Speaking of predators…” Bo tucked his hands in his pockets. “I’m relieved that Noble and the state police have given the all clear about that escapee. I’m just sorry he happened upon Kirby’s truck. That poor young woman has had her share of misery since coming home to Wyoming.”
“Yeah.” Beside him, Casey couldn’t hide his smile. “But she’s stronger than she looks, Pop.”
Bo kept his gaze fixed on the mustang. “The two of you looked pretty cozy in the cab of the backhoe.”
Casey’s grin widened. “Something you want to ask, Pop?”
His father shrugged. “Just want you to remember she’s a guest in our home, son.”
“A really pretty guest.”
That had Bo turning to him with the stern look he’d perfected over a lifetime of raising three young hellions. “Pretty or not, she’s to be treated with respect.” After a moment of silence he arched a brow. “Now would be the time to say ‘yes sir.’”
Casey managed a straight face for another second before his teasing grin broke through. “Yes sir.”
Bo made a fist and playfully punched Casey’s shoulder. “Okay. I get that she’s pretty. And it’s obvious to anybody with half a brain that she stirs your blood. But just remember that your grandmother will have your hide if she thinks you’re overstepping the line with one of her houseguests.”
“So this is all about Gram Meg, right?”
“That woman’s like a dog with a bone if she thinks one of her grandsons is misbehaving.”
“And what about you, Pop?”
“I’m my mother’s
son. If she doesn’t bust your hide, I’ll do it for her.” For a moment he managed a stern look before his lips curved into a smile that was so much like his son’s, it was like looking in a mirror. “So if you cross her, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“Yes sir.”
In a perfect imitation of Ham, Bo growled, “Say it like you mean it, boy. And mean it when you say it.”
That was all it took for the two men to burst into hoots.
As they turned and made their way from the barn, the frigid night air rang with the raucous sound of their laughter.
Chapter Sixteen
’Morning, Dan. I hope you don’t mind my calling on a Saturday.” Kirby prowled her room while holding her cell phone to her ear, watching snowflakes drifting past the window.
Snow in October. And not just a few flakes. The sight of all the snow reminded her of something Uncle Frank used to say to her.
Looks like the angels are shaking a canister of snow up in heaven.
Ever since then, she’d loved snow even more.
Dan’s voice broke through her musings. “Not at all. How’s the ankle, Kirby?”
“A little better every day. I’m hoping to be rid of this boot as soon as Dr. Peterson gives me the thumbs-up.”
“When do you see him again?”
“Early next week. But if you’d like, I could come into the office Monday and do something that doesn’t require me to walk a lot. Do you have any paperwork I could handle?”
Her boss’s laughter boomed over the phone. “Kirby, you are officially on paid sick leave. That means you don’t come anywhere near the office until you get cleared by your doctor.” He paused. “Are you still at the Merrick ranch?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds like it’s starting to feel a little crowded out there.”
She chuckled. “Not at all. This place is so big and rambling, it’s like being in a hotel.”
“Then why are you in such a hurry to get back to work?”
