Cowboy Swagger

by Joanna Wayne

  “What happened after he pulled the gun?” Collette asked.

  “He was going to kill you. I had to stop him.”

  “How?”

  “With the skillet. It was still on the range. I pulled myself up and grabbed it.”

  “Did you hit him with it?”

  “I’m not sure. The skillet was in my hand. That’s the last thing I remember.”

  “He may have taken it away from you and hit you instead. That would explain the concussion and the knot on your head.”

  “He was strong.”

  “Are you sure he didn’t say anything? Do you remember a gravelly, gruff voice?” She was leading the witness, but it wasn’t as if she was in a courtroom. She was trying to find a villainous pervert.

  “I don’t remember. I’m sorry, Collette.” Eleanor closed her eyes and turned away.

  Collette had pushed as hard as she dared. “Don’t try to think about the attack for now, Eleanor. Just rest and take care of yourself.”

  Eleanor didn’t respond. The meds were doing their work, and she was drifting off to sleep. “It will all work out,” Collette whispered before she made her way to the door. But if it didn’t work out soon, the guy was going to strike again.

  He’d gone along for months with nothing but phone calls, but now it seemed he’d become desperate. There had to be an explanation for that.

  Her father was steps from Eleanor’s door when Collette exited, in a quiet but animated discussion with the cop on guard duty. She was tempted to march right by him without speaking, but the situation they were in was too serious to let the long-held resentments interfere.

  “There’s your daughter,” Clay said.

  Her father turned to face her. “So it is, though she hasn’t acted much like a daughter of late.”

  “I just talked to Eleanor,” she said, refusing to fight with him here. “She’s conscious, but still under the effects of the medication.”

  “Did she give you a description of the perp?”

  “Only that he was tall and muscled. She just drifted off to sleep, but I can tell you everything she said.”

  “Then the information would only be hearsay.”

  Dylan walked up and joined them, newspaper tucked under his arm and coffee in hand. Her father glared at him, clenching his fists as if preparing to throw a punch. Subtlety wasn’t in his repertoire.

  She was sure Dylan noticed, but he gave no indication that he cared.

  “Good morning, Sheriff.”

  Her father ignored his greeting and pointed a condemning finger at Collette. “I see you’re still playing your silly little games and putting yourself in danger. You just can’t listen, can you, Mildred?”

  Mildred. Collette swallowed hard as the mistake sent a new round of resentment swirling inside her. He’d not only called her by her mother’s name but used the same tone he’d used with her mother so many times before.

  She turned and strode away before she said what she was thinking and caused a scene. Dylan caught up with her just as she stepped into the crowded elevator.

  “What was that about?”

  “Too much to go into now.”

  The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, and two men and a woman stepped on. The doors were already closing behind them when Collette heard a hoarse, croaky voice coming from outside the elevator. Her blood ran cold. She’d know that voice anywhere.

  Chapter Twelve

  Collette tried to reach through a cluster of people to hit the Door Open button, but it was too late. The doors had closed tight, and the elevator had already begun its descent. When the elevator stopped at the third floor, she grabbed Dylan’s arm and tugged him off even while a lady with two young children was pushing into the car.

  Dylan’s brows arched. “Change of plans?”

  “The gruff voice. That was him. My stalker.”

  “You heard his voice?”

  “Yes, just as those people were getting on at the fourth floor.” She looked around for stairs.

  Dylan spotted the stairwell sign first, took her hand and took off running.

  Once in the stairwell, he let her take the lead, only jumping in front of her when they reached the door to the fourth floor. He pushed it open and waited for her to exit.

  “The elevators are right there,” Dylan said, pointing to his right.

  The hallway was empty. Disappointment settled like a bowling ball in her stomach. “If he was waiting for an elevator, he may have already boarded one and disappeared.”

  “But we don’t know that he was getting on an elevator, only that he was close enough that you heard his voice. Do you have any feel for the direction the voice came from?”

  “I thought it came from the left, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Tell me how Eleanor described him.”

  “Tall, muscled, strong. That’s it.”

  With little to go on, they hurried down the halls but saw no one who looked or sounded suspicious. Collette’s confidence in finding the man was sinking fast.

  “Let’s try the sixth floor,” Dylan urged.

  “But I heard him on this floor.”

  “Saying what?”

  “‘Excuse me.’ He said, ‘Excuse me,’ and then he coughed.”

  “He could have been on another elevator, one stopped on the fourth floor on its climb to the sixth.”

  Of course. She should have thought of that. And right at that very moment he could be on his way to Room 612. “Let’s go.”

  They took the stairs, and Collette was panting by the time they’d run the two flights. Again, the hall near the stairwell was empty, and no one was waiting at the elevators. They hurried toward Eleanor’s room, where the guard was chatting up a pert, young nurse with ample curves.

  Collette breathed a little easier. If there had been trouble, surely he wouldn’t be carrying on a flirtation.

  “Go wait with the guard while I check out the men’s room,” Dylan told her. “If I see someone who looks suspicious, I’ll ask him a question and see if he croaks like a bullfrog.”

  “It’s not quite that bad,” she admitted. “But if he sounds like he has a cold, nab him.”

  The nurse walked away from Clay Sevier, and Collette quickly caught up and fell in step with her. “My friend was supposed to meet me here ten minutes ago—a tall guy, gruff voice.”

  “I haven’t seen him. Who are you here to visit?”

  “Eleanor Baker.”

  “If I see a guy who looks lost, I’ll send him that way.”

  “Thanks.” Collette’s frustration built.

  Dylan met up with her before she reached Eleanor’s room. “No luck,” he said, “but I do have an idea.”

  “Good. I’m desperate for one.”

  “Assuming your father is still with Eleanor, you need to let him know what’s going on. He can initiate a room search to see if anyone’s on the floor without a legitimate reason.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “If you thought of everything on your own, you wouldn’t need me.”

  She was certain that she would.

  The guard smiled as they approached him. “Back so soon?”

  “Yes, I need to discuss something with my father.”

  “He’s with the patient, and he said I was to keep visitors out until he was finished questioning her.”

  “What I have to tell him concerns the attack and it can’t wait.”

  “Orders are orders,” the guard said.

  “This is an emergency. I’ll take full responsibility for the consequences.” She hurried past him and eased open the door to Eleanor’s room.

  “But you admit you were warned to stop digging into the murder. Who else but one of the Ledgers would be alarmed by what you planned to write?”

  “Someone with something to hide,” Eleanor murmured.

  “Or someone trying to protect the guilty,” the sheriff said. “A son, maybe.”

  “Like Dylan?”

 
“Exactly.”

  Collette started to shake. How dare he try to frame Dylan for the attack when he knew her stalker had called from this very hospital just yesterday.

  The guard propped a hand over the door frame. “Step away from the door.”

  “I have to see you, Dad,” she called out, ignoring Clay.

  The sheriff left Eleanor’s bedside. “What’s the problem here?”

  “I have to talk to you about the case. It’s urgent.” Her voice vibrated with rage that he’d been going after Dylan. She struggled to get it under control until the current emergency was handled.

  The sheriff nodded to the guard. “It’s okay. She can come in.”

  “We can’t talk in there,” Collette protested. “We need privacy.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “Please, just step outside with me.”

  He followed her into the hallway. When he saw Dylan, he stiffened, but this time he gave the sarcasm a rest.

  She led him a few feet away so that they had a small degree of privacy. “I’m almost certain my stalker is in the hospital now and probably hiding somewhere on this floor.”

  “Do you have evidence to that fact, or is this some tomfool idea you got from Dylan?”

  “I heard his voice. I think he was on a different elevator, going up when we were going down.”

  “A lot of voices sound the same, especially at a distance.”

  “It was him, Dad. As many times as I’ve been tormented by that voice, I’d know it anywhere.”

  “Okay, take it easy. I’ll look into this. You do realize I’m out of my jurisdiction.”

  “It’s not out of Clay Sevier’s. He or his supervisor could have the staff check all the patient rooms and supply closets or any other place the goon might be hiding.”

  “Are you telling me how to do my job now?”

  “No, of course not.” She knew better than to try and tell him anything. Beg or inveigle, he loved that. But never tell.

  “I’ll handle this, Collette. Feel free to leave and take Dylan Ledger with you.”

  “I need to be here,” she insisted. “I’m the only one who can identify the voice.”

  “Then have Dylan take you to the coffee shop. If something comes of the search, I’ll call you.”

  More proof that he didn’t actually consider Dylan a suspect or a danger to her. Yet he was determined to make Dylan’s stay in Mustang Run so exasperating that he gave up and left. Or maybe it was Troy Ledger he wanted to run out of town.

  “Fine,” she said. “Find the stalker and you’ll have Eleanor’s attacker.”

  “If he’s here, I’ll find him. As for his arrest solving the assault case, that’s yet to be determined. Bear in mind that the stalker called for months without resorting to violence. The attack came the very day the Ledgers moved back to town.”

  COLLETTE AND DYLAN chose the hospital’s multilevel atrium instead of the coffee shop. Live plants and sunshine were far more conducive than caffeine to releasing the stress and lowering the levels of adrenaline rushing through her veins.

  They strolled for a minute and then Collette dropped to an ornate wooden bench that faced a sparkling fountain. Dylan sat next to her, resting his arm along the arched back.

  “It’s beautiful here,” she admitted, “but I’d rather be on the sixth floor in the middle of the action.”

  “That makes two of us, but even if we were there, we wouldn’t be allowed access to any area but the restrooms and the halls.”

  She leaned back and Dylan let his hand fall to her shoulder and his thumb trail the tight tendons in her neck. It was amazing how in sync she felt with him when he’d only dropped into her life two days ago. Great for her. Not so terrific for him.

  “You must wish you’d waited until next week to arrive in town,” she said. “Then you would have missed the chaos.”

  “Nope. I’m glad I arrived exactly when I did.”

  “Me, too. After talking to Eleanor, I’ve even more convinced that you saved both our lives by showing up at my house when you did.”

  “I can’t take a lot of credit for that. I was just coming by to intrude on your evening.”

  “Timing is everything.” She’d promised herself last night that she’d gracefully bow out of his life before she dragged him into more danger. That was probably even more critical today with her father determined to make things hard on him.

  Helene Ledger’s ghost would no doubt be happy about Collette leaving Dylan’s life. She suspected that Troy Ledger would as well, though he’d made her feel welcome and even cooked her breakfast this morning while she’d dressed for her run to the hospital.

  “I still fear that spending so much time with me gives you very little time to bond with your father,” Collette said.

  “I’m not sure how much bonding we’d be doing anyway. He spends most of the time staring out the back window or standing at the door of the bedroom he shared with my mother.”

  “He’s been away from the ranch and cut off from society for nearly eighteen years. The readjustment must be difficult for him.”

  “I’m sure it is. Readjusting to civilian life after eight years in the service was difficult enough. Actually dealing with the stalker situation has crystallized a couple of decisions about what I’d like to do next in my life.”

  If one of the decisions was to run as far as he could from Mustang Run, she didn’t want to hear it. Still, she had to ask. “What decisions have you made?”

  “I definitely don’t want to go into any type of law enforcement.”

  “Had you been considering that as a career option?”

  “I’d talked about the possibility with Wyatt. He loves it and thought I should give it a try.”

  “All law-enforcement officers are not as intolerable as my father if that’s what’s holding you back.”

  “No. I’ve just had enough violence and bureaucracy—all of the things that would go with the job. I gave a hundred percent during my eight years in the service. I’m glad I was able to do that for my country, but I’m ready to move on.”

  She experienced a plummeting sensation that didn’t mix well with the chaos of the morning and the interminable wait to hear news from her father.

  “To move on as in away from Mustang Run?”

  “Not necessarily. I’m thinking of going into ranching, either here with Dad or on a spread of my own. I have a small inheritance from my maternal grandfather and I saved most of my salary while I was in Iraq.”

  “You made that decision after only two days?”

  “It doesn’t take long to know when something’s right.”

  His tone made her think he could be talking about more than just ranching. Warmth seeped into every pore. It could just be infatuation, but her feelings for Dylan were growing stronger by the second.

  Dylan shifted and moved away from her. She wondered if he, too, was feeling the heat.

  “Guess I’ve always been a cowboy at heart,” he said.

  “I could have told you that from the moment I met you.”

  “Really, Miss Personality Expert. How’s that?”

  “You had that cowboy swagger when you walked up on the steps of the ranch house and tipped your hat to the waiting sharks. Besides, you know the old adage, don’t call him a cowboy until you see him ride. I saw you ride, and you’re a natural with horses.”

  “How am I doing with you?”

  “You’ve got potential,” she teased.

  Dylan pushed up his shirt sleeve and looked at his watch. It finally hit her that the conversation over the past few minutes had been designed to keep her mind off the drama playing out on the sixth floor.

  It had worked for a few minutes, but the anxiety had just come crashing down on her again.

  She stretched her legs in front of her, crossing her ankles and flexing her toes to release the coiled strain to her muscles.

  “I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, Dylan, but the best thing I c
an do for you and your father right now is to get out of your lives.”

  “I thought we were past that.”

  “I thought so, too, but things with my father will just continuously get worse for you until this case is solved.”

  Dylan turned to her and cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look in his eyes.

  “Get this straight in your head right now, Collette. I’ve faced enemies whose idea of destruction was blowing me into a thousand pieces or cutting off my head and hanging it from a pole. I’m not afraid of your father. Your walking out of my life is the last thing I need or want. If it’s what you want, I’ll live with it, but don’t even think it would be best for me.”

  He dropped his hands from her face, then took one of her hands in his. “What is it with you and your father? Every meeting between the two of you is charged with hostility. You can’t even talk about him without getting edgy and tense.”

  “We’ve had our differences.”

  “It must have been a hell of a difference to leave you this bitter.”

  “You don’t want to go there, Dylan.”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but it would help me get a grip on what’s going on.”

  She took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Okay, Dylan, I’ll dish the dirt, but I have to warn you. My family history is sordid and heartrending.”

  Dylan squeezed her hand. “Welcome to my world.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The accident that led to my mother’s stroke could have been avoided.”

  Dylan kept hold of Collette’s hand, knowing the worst was yet to come. Yet if she didn’t get the rage and resentment out in the open, he feared she might explode, especially with the incidents of the past two days no doubt setting her nerves on a short fuse.

  “Mom asked me to come home for spring break my senior year, saying there was something important she needed to tell me,” Collette continued. “I knew from her voice that something was seriously wrong, but she refused to say more on the phone. I immediately thought cancer or some type of risky operation, and I canceled my Florida plans. I was a wreck the rest of the week.”