Rodeo Daddy

by B. J Daniels

  “Until Ray Dale got killed.” She had to sit down.

  “You guessed it. Burton caught Ray Dale rustling on another ranch and made a deal with him. To avoid prosecution, Ray Dale was going to help bring down the ring leader. The way the ring worked was that an inside man on each ranch recruited one of the other ranch hands. Ray Dale was recruited. Are you sitting down?”

  She was now.

  “Ray Dale said he was recruited by Ace Winters, but Burton couldn’t get any evidence against Ace after Ray Dale was killed. As far as Burton could tell, the ring ceased operations after that. Burton says he’s always suspected that Ray Dale’s death was no accident, but had no proof.”

  “You think the ring leader somehow got wind that Ray Dale was part of a sting operation?” she asked.

  “Must have,” Dylan said. “The sting was to take place the night after Ray Dale was killed.”

  “Cody didn’t see Ace that night,” she noted.

  “The thing is, how reliable was Ray Dale?” Dylan said. “He might have lied about who recruited him, knowing Burton was only after the ring leader.”

  “Where does C. J. Crocker fit in?” She recounted the argument she’d witnessed between Ace and C.J. the night before. “It looked as if Ace was threatening him.” Then she told him about her conversation with the bull riding clown. “I’m meeting C.J. in a few minutes by the creek.”

  “Bad idea, Chelsea,” Dylan said, sounding like her brother. “Stay clear of Ace—and C.J. Let me handle this from here on out. I’ve put out feelers with my sources in the police department to find out who might have been marketing rustled cattle ten years ago. It’s a long shot. I have some other business I have to tend to, but in a few days I can catch up with the circuit—”

  “It can’t wait a few days. C.J.’s scared—of Ace, I think. He wants to tell me something. In a few days, he could change his mind. Lance Prescott was scared, too, and believe me, he didn’t look like a man who frightens easily. I’m wondering how many of them knew about the rustling or were maybe involved? Jack suspected Ray Dale. That’s why he was out there that night when Cody saw him.”

  “You’re still sure Jack wasn’t involved?” Dylan asked.

  “Positive.”

  “Chelsea, I feel like you’re in the middle of a rattlesnake den and any one of them could strike without warning. Cody and I are concerned about your welfare and with good reason.”

  “Cody?” she asked in surprise.

  “I didn’t tell him anything about the case, but from what you’ve told him and the fact that he knows you, he’s worried. He’s talking about coming after you.”

  Oh, brother. “Thanks for the warning. I appreciate your concern but I’m being careful. I’ll call you when I know something.”

  She hung up and called Cody. “Hi, big brother,” she said cheerfully.

  “Where are you?” he demanded.

  She could tell he was on his cell phone and probably out in some pasture from the sounds of it. “Kansas City, Missouri. I just got through eating pancakes lathered in butter and blueberry syrup.”

  “Now I know you’re in trouble,” Cody said.

  She laughed, determined to keep things light. The last thing she needed was her brother coming up here. “Did I mention the pancakes were in the shape of horses?”

  “Ashley called.” Ashley Garrett, Dylan’s little sister. “You haven’t forgotten her wedding, have you?”

  “Of course not. Saturday afternoon in San Antonio.”

  “You aren’t still chasing rustlers, are you?”

  “After all the pancakes I ate?” She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m having the time of my life.”

  * * *

  WHEN SHE REACHED the pool behind the camp, C.J. wasn’t there yet. The new spring leaves rustled softly in the breeze, and as she stood in the cool shade, she was tempted to take off her boots and wade in the water. From her vantage point, she could see when C.J. arrived, so she sat down to wait.

  Forty-five minutes later, she’d removed her boots and had her feet dangling in the cool water. No C.J. The clown had stood her up.

  She dried her feet in the sun, put on her socks and boots and headed back toward the motor home, feeling tired and even more frustrated.

  Of course Jack was nowhere around. She wandered over by the long row of vendors, the smell of corn dogs already permeating the air, to see if she could find him. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement and turned, shocked to see Lance Prescott disappearing around the end of the grandstands.

  It had been Lance, hadn’t it? What was he doing here in Kansas City? She rushed after the retreating figure, determined to find out.

  But when she cleared the corner of the grandstands, he was gone. She told herself she must have been mistaken. As frightened as he’d been of being seen with her, he certainly wouldn’t come here.

  She walked back to the motor home, again considering taking that nap, but instead she opted to put away the laundry. She’d have plenty of time for a nap before Jack rode.

  * * *

  THE WALK WAS just what Jack had needed. As he neared the rodeo office, he saw Lloyd Crandell. Their paths had crossed often over the years and they’d become friends. Lloyd had been managing a ranch Jack worked on around San Antonio and was the one who’d told him about the cowhand opening at the Wishing Tree. Since Lloyd knew Chelsea and her family, Jack had a way of finding out about her without any worry that his questions would go further than the two of them.

  “I see Chelsea’s still here,” Lloyd said. “Still looking for rustlers?”

  Jack scowled. “Stubborn damned woman.”

  Lloyd laughed. “She does tend to go after what she wants,” he said meaningfully.

  Fortunately Roberta came out of the bus then and joined them.

  “We were just talking about Chelsea,” Lloyd said.

  “She making any progress?” Roberta asked.

  Jack knew she meant with finding the rustler—not seducing him. “Not that I know of.”

  “I can’t imagine how she will, not after this much time,” Roberta said.

  “I wish to hell she’d drop this,” Jack muttered.

  “I don’t think that’s what she’s really doing here anyway, do you?” Lloyd winked.

  Roberta laughed and told Lloyd she was going into town to shop in the small Jeep they pulled behind the bus.

  After leaving the Crandells, Jack went over to the rodeo office and checked in, then headed for the motor home, realizing he couldn’t avoid Chelsea any longer. The reason he’d let her come along was to try to protect her. He wasn’t doing a very good job, considering he spent most of his time trying to avoid her.

  And he really needed to talk to her about Sam.

  As he came around the corner, he saw Ace. The bull rider seemed to be waiting for him. How perfect.

  “So you’re riding Devil Twist tonight.” Ace made a scared face. “Sure hope what happened last year doesn’t happen again.”

  Jack didn’t need this. He stepped past Ace.

  “I wish I knew who was rustling cattle that summer we worked together on the Wishing Tree,” Ace said. “I could sure use that reward money.”

  Jack stopped in his tracks and turned slowly.

  “Oh?” Ace said. “Didn’t Chelsea tell you about the ten-thousand-dollar reward she’s offering? I thought you knew, since she’s…traveling with you.”

  Ten thousand? Now there was a familiar number. Jack swore under his breath.

  “If I were you I’d keep a closer eye on her, though,” Ace said, echoing Jack’s earlier concerns. “Especially with her asking all those questions about rustlers. That’s a lot of money. Who knows who’ll try to collect, or what that person will say. Might even name you as the rustler.” Ace walked off, obviously accomplishing what he’d intended.

  Jack spotted Terri Lyn waiting for Ace by the trailer. He’d heard the two were “seeing” each other. He wondered if Terri Lyn knew what she was getting h
erself into. But he only wondered for a moment. He had other things to occupy his mind as he marched toward the motor home. A ten-thousand-dollar reward? What was Chelsea thinking? She’d just upped the ante and put herself in even greater danger. Damn.

  He reached for the door an instant before he heard her scream.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  AS JACK RUSHED into the motor home, Chelsea screamed again and stumbled toward him.

  He caught her in his arms. “What is it?”

  She buried her face in his chest, shaking so hard she could barely speak. “In the drawer.”

  He set her aside and moved down the little hallway.

  “Be careful,” she cried after him.

  The light in the back was dim but he could still make out the coiled shape inside the drawer.

  Stepping back to open the broom closet door, he withdrew the broom and, using the stick end, cautiously picked up the rattlesnake.

  It proved to be dead. He swore under his breath. A rodeo prank. He’d seen it pulled on enough rookie cowboys.

  “It’s all right,” he said to Chelsea. “It’s dead.” But it wasn’t all right. He knew what this must have done to her. “Step back and I’ll get rid of it.”

  She moved to stand by the driver’s seat and turned her face away as he took the snake out and tossed its lifeless body into the trash. Who the hell had done this?

  “It’s gone,” he said when he returned, knowing that every time she opened that drawer she’d expect to see it again.

  She turned to look at him, tears in her eyes.

  He reached for her and she flew into his arms again. Holding her, he swore he’d find out who had done this and teach them a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.

  “I’m sorry, I know I overreacted,” Chelsea said after a moment, stepping back to brush at her tears. “I usually never cry….”

  He remembered his reaction as a rookie cowboy when he’d reached into his gear bag and felt a snake the first time. “Trust me, your reaction was a hell of a lot milder than most people’s would have been.”

  “I just have this thing about snakes.” She shivered.

  “I remember. Do you have any idea who did this?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “When Sam gets back—”

  “You don’t think Sam has anything to do with this prank,” Chelsea cried.

  “This prank?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at her. “This isn’t the first, is it?” Her expression gave her away. “How long has this been going on?” he demanded, angry with her for not telling him, scared for reasons of his own.

  “They started the first day but—”

  “And you didn’t bother to tell me?”

  “They seemed so harmless. The ruined enchiladas, the toad in my boot…”

  “You should have told me, Chelsea.”

  “I thought I could handle it myself,” she said.

  He swore softly. “Just like this crazy rustling investigation of yours.” He didn’t know what possessed him. Maybe it was the shock of hearing her scream, or the fact he was still aching from her touch earlier. Whatever it was, he suddenly needed her with an intensity he’d never felt before.

  Dragging her into his arms, he crushed his mouth against hers, claiming her for his own. She gave a quick intake of breath and her body stiffened in surprise, then melted into his.

  Her mouth was just as he remembered it. Soft, lush and inviting. The desire it evoked in him was as blinding as brilliant sunshine—and just as familiar. A part of his mind tried to remind him of all the reasons the last thing he should be doing was kissing Chelsea Jensen. But nothing mattered except the feel of her in his arms. It had been too long.

  * * *

  CHELSEA LOST HERSELF in his kiss, her body molded to his, returning his heat with her own. As her lips parted to allow him in, she realized she’d been waiting ten years for a kiss to rattle her to her roots. Hadn’t she known Jack was the only who could do it?

  He let out a little sigh against her mouth, and his gaze met hers. Any questions she had were answered right there in glowing neon.

  Drawing his lips back to hers, she deepened the kiss, her blood surging through her and her heart…oh, her heart. That’s why at first she thought the pounding was inside her chest.

  “What the hell?” Jack exclaimed, pulling back his lips, then his body.

  Someone was beating on the door.

  Chelsea moaned. Not now.

  Jack’s eyes reflected her own regret as he moved to open the door.

  Rowdy Harper stood below the step. One look at his face and she knew something had happened. Something bad. Sam! Oh, God, not Sam!

  “There’s been an accident in one of the bull corrals,” Rowdy said without preamble. “It’s Crocker. They’ve rushed him to the hospital. He’s in critical condition.”

  “What was Crocker doing in a corral with the bulls?”

  “No one knows.” Rowdy shrugged. “I just thought you’d want to know. His family is having him flown to the emergency center in San Antonio. He might not make it. Sorry if I…interrupted anything.” He tipped his hat and left.

  Jack closed the door. “C.J. saved my life on more than one occasion. What in the hell would he have been doing in the corral with the bulls?” He turned and saw her expression. “What is it?”

  “I was supposed to meet him earlier down by the creek, but he didn’t show.”

  Jack looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.

  “He was ready to talk to me about the rustling operation that summer. He was scared, really scared.”

  When Jack seemed skeptical, she rushed to explain.

  “It looks like there was more than just rustling going on that summer.” She hesitated. “I think Ray Dale might have been murdered.”

  She told him about her conversation with Crocker and the argument she’d seen between him and Ace. She recounted her talk with Lance Prescott and what Dylan had said about the brand inspector’s sting operation. The last thing she mentioned was her certainty that she’d seen Lance earlier.

  “Who’s Dylan?”

  “Dylan Garrett. He’s a private investigator for Finders Keepers.”

  “Dylan. That friend of your brother’s.”

  There was bitterness in Jack’s tone.

  He moved to close the drawer where she’d found the snake earlier, but stopped before he closed it all the way and reached down to pull something out.

  She watched him unfold a piece of white paper, which he slowly handed to her.

  The words of the note had been cut from a magazine: Next time it will be a live snake. How original, she thought.

  Jack was looking at her, his face hard with anger. “This isn’t Sam’s doing.”

  “I know.” She wished he’d just kiss her again. That was the only thing that had felt right in this crazy world.

  “Ace just told me you’re offering ten thousand dollars for information. Ten thousand?”

  “It seemed an appropriate amount at the time.”

  “Dylan used to be a cop, right? You are letting him handle this from here on out?”

  “Yes.” She was becoming a believer after the snake and the note.

  “Damn, Chelsea.” He shook his head. “This is all my fault. If I’d made your father listen to me ten years ago… I let my pride and anger keep me from telling him about Ray Dale.”

  “Ace told me he witnessed a fight between you and Ray Dale one day in the bunkhouse,” she said.

  Jack frowned. It was obvious he didn’t like Ace nor the fact she’d talked to him. “Ray Dale was trouble waiting to happen. We got into it.”

  “Ace said you apologized later.”

  “Ace sure had a lot to say about me,” Jack noted. “Yeah, I apologized to Ray Dale. Then a couple of nights later I followed him when he left the bunkhouse in the middle of the night.”

  “The night he was killed in Box Canyon. Does anyone beside my brother know you were there?”


  He looked up as he realized what she was getting at. “I didn’t see or hear anyone else, not with the thunder storm that night. Once I saw the cattle Ray Dale had rounded up, I headed back, planning to tell your father the next morning. I don’t know if anyone saw me besides Cody.”

  “What about when you got back to the bunkhouse? Was everyone accounted for except Ray Dale?”

  “I don’t know. I crept in and went to bed without turning on a light.” He met her gaze. “From now until you return to your ranch, I don’t want you out of my sight. I want you in the stands where I can see you whenever I ride, and no more investigating. Agreed?”

  She nodded. She could live with that. All except for the part where she returned to the ranch.

  “I have to get ready to ride,” he said.

  She nodded. “I’ll be in the stands where you can see me.”

  * * *

  AS CHELSEA SAT DOWN in the grandstands, a clown joked around as the two pickup men tried to catch the bull from the last ride.

  “That bull reminds me of my wife,” the clown said. “You know what the difference is?”

  “No, what?” the announcer asked, playing along.

  “About thirty pounds!” the clown replied.

  The crowd laughed.

  “They feed that bull and he’ll catch up to her, though,” the clown quipped.

  Chelsea thought of the jokes Sam had told at breakfast and the way the three of them had laughed together. She couldn’t bear the thought that she might be leaving here without them. But she had to admit, this week could definitely turn out to be a heartbreaker just as Jack had warned her.

  Seeing the clown made her think of C. J. Crocker. What had happened after he’d arranged to meet her?

  She was surprised when Roberta Crandell came and sat by her. Roberta’s husband Lloyd was down by the arena, working with the stock he’d brought for the rodeo, and Rowdy was in the announcer’s box, his voice a comforting sound over the loudspeakers.