Killer Cowboy (Cowboys of Holiday Ranch)

by Carla Cassidy

  She didn’t see how this all ended. How long was reasonable for him to stay here? He’d already been here well over a week. She really had no idea how big a burden it was for him to be here with her.

  Didn’t he have things to do at his own home? Wouldn’t he be spending his downtime far differently if he wasn’t babysitting her?

  As they watched a crime drama show on television her mind refused to quiet. Over and over again she found herself gazing at Dillon. He looked tired. He was really working twenty-four hours a day now with his regular duties as chief of police and then his duty here on top of it.

  Maybe she should take Nicolette up on her offer and move in with her. As much as she’d hate not being in her own home, it would ease things for Dillon. But then there was the worry of the danger following her to Nicolette and Lucas’s place. There was no way she could take that risk.

  Or maybe there was another answer.

  She suddenly thought of the handgun she’d found in a case in her aunt’s closet. When she’d first found it she’d been horrified and had quickly put it back on the shelf.

  Maybe it was time she got it down. Maybe it was time she took a stand on her own. She glanced at Dillon once again and her heart squeezed tight.

  If she went through with the plan that had just popped into her head, then it would be the beginning of the end of his time here with her.

  She could either be the victim and continue to be a burden to him, or she could stand on her own two feet and be strong, but once again be alone.

  She knew what the right thing to do was; she just hoped she was strong enough to live with the consequences.

  * * *

  “I want you to teach me to shoot a gun.”

  Dillon turned and looked at Cassie. “What gun?” he asked in surprise.

  “I found a gun when I first moved in here that must have belonged to Aunt Cass. I want you to teach me to shoot it so I won’t have to be a burden to you any longer.” For the first time since he’d moved in, he couldn’t read the expression in her eyes.

  “Cassie, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” he protested.

  She leaned forward. “It’s the only idea that makes any kind of sense in this whole mess. Dillon, if I know how to shoot a gun, then I can protect myself and you won’t have to be here anymore.”

  Dillon frowned. It was a terrible idea. He knew the statistics of how many homeowners were killed with the very gun they had purchased for self-protection.

  “What if the killer is one of your own cowboys? Would you really be able to look one of them in the eyes and pull the trigger?” he asked.

  “If he had an ax in his hand? Absolutely.” She lifted her chin. “Dillon, we can’t go on like this indefinitely. It could be weeks—even months—before he makes a move again.”

  His frown deepened as he continued to gaze at her. He didn’t think it would be weeks. He believed whoever had come after Cassie would be half-crazed with his need to finish the job he’d attempted and botched. But that was just his guess.

  Hell, he hadn’t been able to get a handle on the killer so far. What made him think he knew what the man might be thinking now?

  “I still think it’s a bad idea,” he replied.

  “Well, I think it’s a great idea, and if you won’t help me then I’ll just get one of my men to teach me how to use a gun.” Once again her chin thrust upward in what he now knew was a stubborn defiance.

  “You can’t live the rest of your life here, dividing your time between your work in town and me. We have to be real here, Dillon. How long do you really think this little arrangement is going to last?” Her voice was now soft. “I need to be proactive about my own safety. I need to let you off the hook.”

  He knew the best thing for his own mental health would be to run as fast and as far as he could get from her. The last week had been sheer torture. He’d wanted her again every night when he went to sleep in the twin bed.

  Her scent haunted him and the memory of their lovemaking had tormented him in the form of erotic dreams. They were all kinds of wrong for each other, but being here with her, enjoying laughter and food and simple conversation, had felt so right.

  However, he wouldn’t allow his need to escape from her to dictate his actions. He had to think like a professional and not like a man. There was no way in hell he was leaving her here to potentially square off against a vicious killer all alone. Maybe it would be good if she knew how to use a gun.

  Most of the women in the town of Bitterroot, especially those who lived on the ranches, were fairly proficient with a weapon. Of course big Cass Holiday had always preferred her bullwhip to a gun.

  “You have a place that’s good for target practice?” he finally asked.

  She sat up straighter. “I know the men use one of the lower pastures for shooting.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” he replied. “I’ll plan to get off work around two and we’ll go to the pasture and see what I can teach you.”

  She gave him a look of gratitude. “Thank you.”

  It was only later in his little twin bed that he wondered if Cassie realized how strong she really was. He knew from their many conversations that her parents had made her feel inadequate and had basically written her off as a loser.

  That broke his heart more than a little bit for her. He’d always known that whatever he would have chosen to do with his life, as long as it wasn’t immoral or illegal, his parents’ love and support were behind him.

  There was no question that this drama that had appeared in her life was testing her, and he hoped and prayed she found the strength and self-confidence to rise to whatever challenges faced her in the future.

  It was just after two the next afternoon when he pulled down the drive and saw her standing at the window, a smile of welcome on her pretty face.

  He liked seeing that smile first thing after work. No matter what he’d faced at work, that smile made everything better.

  As he got out of the car she opened the door to greet him. “Did you have any trouble taking off this afternoon?”

  “I’ve been working without a day off for so long I figured I owed myself an early day.” He approached where she stood on the porch. There was nothing of a city girl apparent today. She was clad in a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved flannel blue plaid shirt. Instead of dainty heels on her feet, she wore a pair of cowboy boots.

  A little frown tugged down in the center of her forehead. “I’m pretty sure teaching me to shoot isn’t high on the list of what you’d like to do on your day off.”

  He touched the end of her nose with his finger. “And I can’t think of anything I’d rather be doing.” It was true. He’d actually looked forward to spending the afternoon with her and it didn’t matter what they had planned for the day’s activity.

  Her frown disappeared. “I got Aunt Cass’s gun from the closet and there was also a box of bullets. It’s all on the kitchen table.”

  “Then let’s go have a look at it.” He would indulge her in this...but he also knew that after a couple of hours shooting bullets in a pasture, he wasn’t about to leave her here all alone.

  The gun was a thirty-eight special in pristine condition. He seriously doubted if it had ever been fired. For the next hour he schooled her on gun safety and showed her how to load and unload the weapon.

  She was a quick learner and asked questions that let him know she was taking this all very seriously. She needed to; gun safety was nothing to joke about.

  They didn’t leave the table until she’d become familiar enough with the gun that he felt comfortable. He ran upstairs and changed into a pair of jeans, a pullover shirt and grabbed his black cowboy hat and then they headed outside.

  “The pasture is a ways off. Let’s ride,” she said and gestured toward the stables when they walked out the back door.

  He looked at her in surprise. “I didn’t know you could.”

  “Forest Stevens taught me.” Forest had worked for Cassie at
the time the skeletons had first been unearthed. While the investigation had been unfolding he’d fallen for Patience Forbes, the forensic anthropologist who had been working the site. He and Patience were now living their happily-ever-after together in Oklahoma City.

  It was a perfect day for a horseback ride. There was no wind and the late-afternoon sun was warm on his shoulders. She pointed him to a chestnut mare in one of the stalls. “That’s Prancer. We keep her for guests to ride.”

  While he saddled up the mare, she went to another stall and did the same with a black horse named Twilight. “I was terrified of horses when I first got here, but Forest was so patient with me.” She mounted the horse. “He broke Twilight just for me and trained us both at the same time. I miss that big cowboy. He was definitely one of the good guys.”

  As they left the stables Dillon shot a wary eye around the area. Several of her men were on horseback in the distance and others were digging out an old tree stump near the barn.

  It looked like a normal day on the ranch and he forced himself to relax and take in a deep lungful of the clean Oklahoma air. The horse felt good beneath him as they rode side by side at a leisurely pace.

  It had been too long since he’d ridden. He had his own horse, but most of the time it was a neighbor who took care of the animal and rode him while Dillon was busy working. For the past couple of months Dillon hadn’t had a real opportunity to enjoy riding.

  She shot him a smile and it warmed even the darkest places in his soul. “Feels good to be out of the house,” she said.

  For the first time he realized how really difficult the past ten days had been for her. Cassie was by nature a very social woman. Being cooped up in her house alone for these many days had to have been difficult for her.

  “It’s another beautiful day,” he replied.

  “It’s supposed to get really cold by the end of the week,” she said.

  After that they rode in a peaceful silence. They passed the pond where Cassie’s cowboy Dusty Crawford had fished out the skull of the seventh victim in the mass graves. Originally it was thought that there were only six skeletons, but when Patience Forbes finished there were six full sets of bones and another one missing a skull and fingers.

  The skull had been pulled out of the pond, but the finger bones were still missing. He doubted they would ever be found. He consciously willed himself not to dwell on that now.

  Instead he turned his head to glance over at Cassie. She had her face slightly raised to the sun and, dammit, but she looked like a woman who belonged on the back of a horse. She rode with a natural ease, her hips relaxed and swaying in the saddle with the motion of the horse.

  She glanced over and caught him staring at her. “You look good on a horse,” he said.

  “I enjoy riding.”

  “There won’t be much of that if you decide to return to New York.”

  “I know.” A shadow flashed in her eyes and she turned away.

  They continued on and silence rose up once again, this one weighty and a bit uncomfortable. Had he said that to make her think about what she would be giving up, or had it been to remind himself that her future might not be here?

  The Holiday land was vast. They passed a pasture where black Angus cattle stood watching them as they rode by. Several cowboys on horseback waved to them from the distance and they both waved back.

  They continued to ride and eventually he and Cassie reached an area of pasture that was obviously set up for target practice.

  Bull’s-eyes were tacked to large bales of hay and a pile of empty beer bottles awaited setup. Behind and to one side of the hay bales was a wooded area.

  They dismounted when they were still some distance away and tied their horses to the wooden fencing nearby.

  “Won’t they be afraid of the gunfire?” he asked.

  “No. All of our horses are trained not to respond. Mac McBride took over working with the horses when Forest left and he’s been great.”

  She flashed him a cheeky smile. “Now, let’s get serious. You need to make me a kick-ass kind of cowgirl with a gun.”

  Dillon stifled a groan. He just hoped he wasn’t making a huge mistake and she wound up shooting him or herself by accident.

  For the next two hours he worked with her. He showed her how to aim through the site, how to gently squeeze the trigger and how to compensate for the kickback. He again explained to her about the safety lock and how important it was to make sure it was off when and if she ever needed to grab the gun and fire.

  It took her a dozen bullets before she finally hit the outer edge of the target. She squealed with excitement. “I did it. I hit the target,” she exclaimed. “I’m almost a sharpshooter!”

  She set down her gun, grabbed his hand and then whirled him around in a circle so fast his head spun. Or was it her laughter and closeness that made his head spin and his breath catch in the back of his throat?

  She stepped away from him and picked up her gun in her hand. “Now I want to hit the very center,” she said with grim determination.

  She stepped up and readied herself for another shot. Before she could pull the trigger a crack resounded and the dirt near her feet kicked up.

  For a split second Dillon’s brain refused to make sense of it, but then his brain screamed. Somebody had just shot at them. He launched himself forward at Cassie.

  “Wha—” She didn’t get any more out of her mouth as he hit her and took her down to the ground, his body covering hers.

  “Stay still,” he commanded her. He narrowed his eyes and tried to discern exactly where the shot had come from. He had no idea what had happened to her gun when he’d dropped her, but he clasped his firmly in his hand.

  Another crack of gunfire and more dirt kicked up. Close...too damned close. This time Dillon was able to determine that it came from the wooded area on their left. He returned fire, but saw no specific target in view.

  His heart pounded and yet he was vaguely aware of Cassie’s fluttering heartbeat and frightened gasps beneath him. He hadn’t expected this. He had been in no way prepared for this particular new brand of danger. If only he could catch a glimpse of where exactly in the woods the person was. He cursed as yet another round smacked into the ground.

  They were sitting ducks, with no real cover to find. Even if he could somehow manage to maneuver them behind the hay bales, there was no guarantee they’d be safer there. Besides, at the moment the hay bales looked like they were a million miles away. But sooner or later the shooter was going to get lucky and one of his bullets would count.

  Chapter 12

  Cassie fought hard to hold in the hysterical screams that tried to release from her. In the last ten days she’d imagined her own death a hundred times, but it had always been with an ax, not with a bullet. And in any scenario she’d imagined Dillon had never been in the path of that death.

  But now he was on top of her, a shield to protect her and risking his own life for hers. She wanted to tell him to run, that the target was her, not him. She needed to beg him to save himself, that the town of Bitterroot needed him and nobody really needed her.

  Still, even thinking these things she clung to him, terror chasing through her as the gunshots kept coming. Who was behind the gun? And why...oh, why was this happening?

  Another bullet kicked up dirt just in front of them and this time her scream released from her. She quickly clamped her mouth closed, knowing a screaming woman would only distract Dillon.

  “Dammit,” Dillon said. “I can’t see him.” He fired another shot.

  Shouts sounded from the distance, along with the noise of pounding horse hooves. She nearly cried out in relief as she peeked out from under Dillon and saw Mac Mcbride, Flint McCay, Dusty Crawford and Tony Nakni riding hard and fast toward them.

  The four cowboys had their guns pulled and it was obvious they were riding to the rescue. They circled her and Dillon. “Where’s the shooter?” Tony cried.

  Dillon pointed toward the woods an
d Tony headed in that direction. Dillon got up and pulled her up and against him. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll get you on your horse and the men can ride back to the stables with you. Get inside the house and lock the doors.”

  “But what about you?” she asked worriedly. He couldn’t stay out here. Those bullets had not just tried to find her, but had been aimed at him, as well. Even with her gone he might still be in danger.

  “I’ll be along later,” he replied. His jaw was set, and his eyes were narrowed and a harsh shade of dark gray. “Go on, Cassie. Get to safety.”

  “Come on, Cassie, I’ll take you in and Mac can get Twilight,” Dusty said. He shifted his position just off the back of the saddle and then held out an arm to her. She looked at Dillon one last time and then grabbed Dusty’s arm and pulled herself into the saddle in front of him.

  She leaned back in Dusty’s arms as he galloped toward the stable. The shots had stopped and she desperately hoped that Tony and Dillon had apprehended the shooter.

  Let this be the end of it, she prayed. Let today be the end of the madness. Hopefully before nightfall the killer would be in a jail cell and they’d have answers not only to the who, but also to the why.

  Dusty took her straight to the back door, where he helped her down and then waited until she locked herself inside. What kind of a hotshot was she? She didn’t even know what had happened to her gun in the melee.

  What she did know was that Dillon’s first instinct had been to protect her, and hopefully he would return safely. She stared out the window, her heart beating a thousand miles a minute.

  What was happening right this minute? Was Dillon still in danger? Were her men? She prayed they all returned safely. She wanted the bad guy caught so badly. She wanted this all to end right this minute.

  Even though her heart ached just a little bit to know the solving of the mystery would cast Dillon out of her life, she also knew how important it was to solve not only Sam’s murder, but also the crime that had occurred so long ago.