Can't Stop Believing (HARMONY)

by Jodi Thomas

  Mr. Carleon reached across the table and laid his hand over Martha Q’s. “What is our plan, dear lady?”

  Martha Q almost giggled, and she hadn’t giggled in years. At that moment she really didn’t much care what the plan was or what Bryce was up to. She loved the game they were playing at the breakfast nook, and she planned to make sure it continued. Her blood hadn’t been this warm since the summer it reached 107 and half the air conditioners in town seemed to break at the same time.

  “I think we should think all this out. I’ll ask my hairdresser. She’ll know all the gossip on Bryce Galloway. If you’ve no objection, I suggest we meet tonight over hot cocoa on the porch.”

  Mr. Carleon raised one eyebrow. “Should we include the widows in our discussion?”

  “Not just yet,” Martha Q answered with a sly smile. If she had anything to do with it, the widows would be out for the evening.

  As if they’d heard their names called, all three of the women hurried in. Before the good mornings were said, Mrs. Biggs opened the door to the dining room and announced that breakfast was served.

  Martha Q closed her fingers over the hand that Mr. Carleon had held briefly and decided she’d have not only her hair done, but a manicure and pedicure as well. She might even have a facial . . . all in the name of gathering information, of course.

  Chapter 24

  APRIL 9

  “YOU MAKE HER HAPPY, CORD, YOU KNOW THAT, DON’T you?” Galem said as he poured coffee while both men stood in the bunkhouse kitchen. Dawn was just turning the sky. The ranch hands were already gathering around the table for breakfast.

  Cord had come over early to check out the day’s work schedule with the cook. He looked over at the man who was quickly becoming more a friend than an employee of the ranch. “Who?”

  Galem smiled. “Nevada, of course. You make her happy.”

  “Maybe.” Cord hid a smile behind his coffee cup as he remembered the pleasure they’d shared less than an hour ago. “She seems to like the changes around here.” He tried to get his mind on the ranch and not the way his wife’s body had felt against his in the shower. “I think we’ll finish all the roads on the Boxed B today, and I’ll send the crews over to work on my farm for a week or so. The crop’s coming in, so a good road would help with moving the equipment we’re going to need come harvest.”

  Galem frowned. “She does like the changes, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Little Miss has got her share of problems at work, but it does my heart good to see her light up every time she sees you.”

  Before Cord could comment, the cook added, “Hell if I know why. You never say more than a few words to her. Let me give you some advice. They like that. A woman also likes to be complimented now and then, talked to, even when you don’t see a need. They’re funny creatures that way.”

  “I’ll work on it.” Cord had given up suggesting Galem stop offering him advice. It seemed to come with breakfast, and Galem, having been married for years, thought he had all the answers.

  Galem smiled. “Good. Now, next time you see her, be sure and tell her how nice she looks. With all the time she spends shopping, it’s bound to be important to her.”

  Before Cord had to swear he would, the back door of the bunkhouse flew open and a ranch hand, covered in mud, bolted in at a full run.

  “We got trouble, Boss.” Jackson gulped for air as he took off his hat. “One of your wife’s horses is down in the front pasture. I tried to get her up, but . . .”

  Both men grabbed their hats and followed the messenger out as he kept talking. “I drove past a few minutes ago and thought the black mare looked strange. I might have just thought she was resting if I hadn’t seen the fence down. White wooden planks scattered all over the road.”

  “Nevada’s horses are boarded in stalls at night. Never left in the field.” Galem voiced what both Cord and Jackson already knew.

  They all three grabbed anything they thought they might need from the tack room as they moved toward the truck. “What happened?” Cord shouted over the noise they made.

  “Looks like someone rammed the fence.” Jackson picked up a couple of gallons of water and climbed into the bed of the truck. “I could see tire tracks in the mud by the road.”

  “The horse?” Cord would worry about the downed fence later. He tossed in blankets and a toolbox along with a few ropes and a first-aid kit. Nevada wouldn’t be happy if he had to rope one of her horses, no matter how crazy the mare might be acting.

  “The mare’s alive, but barely moving. I couldn’t get her to raise her head, much less stand. When I saw how bad the horse was, I figured running for help was the best thing I could do.” Jackson looked tortured. “Man, I hate like hell to see a horse in pain.”

  Cord glanced at Galem. The cook had read his mind; he was already talking to the vet as he climbed in the passenger side.

  Taking the curves toward Nevada’s private horse barn and pasture at sixty with rocks flying everywhere, Cord ordered Galem, “Have him meet us there as fast as possible. Then try to get ahold of the trainer who cares for her horses. Nevada won’t want us touching the horse without the trainer there.”

  “He’s usually there by now.” Galem punched numbers on his cell. “She likes to stop by on her way to work now and then to talk to him. Joey comes in early, but he seems to think as soon as he finishes, his eight-hour day is over. He’s never around when she comes past there after work. But he wouldn’t have let the horse out this early. It’s not part of his routine.”

  Pulling his phone from his vest pocket, Cord punched two and waited for Nevada to answer. She’d gone in before dawn, saying she had a meeting over some big problem at one of the drill sites.

  No answer. Maybe she hadn’t made it in to the office yet. Cord left a message for her to call him, then tried to remember her general office number. He hadn’t bothered to key it into his phone, thinking that if he needed her he could always call the cell.

  Cord was parked and walking toward the downed mare when Galem got Nevada’s secretary on his cell. The cook passed his phone to Cord.

  “This is Cord McDowell. Tell my wife to call me,” Cord shouted into the phone.

  When the secretary stuttered, he added, “Now!”

  Then, without waiting for an answer, he handed Galem’s phone back and knelt down beside the beautiful star-marked black mare laboring for every breath.

  Jackson had been right. Something was very wrong with the horse. Cord pulled off his gloves and slowly moved his hands over the animal. Huge wild eyes watched him as she fought for air. The powerful muscles of her hind legs jerked slightly as if longing to run, but the horse didn’t get up.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Cord said, more to himself than the mare. “We’re here now. We’ll take care of you.”

  Galem hauled blankets and water. He tried to pour water into the horse’s mouth, but she wouldn’t take it. “She’s burning up,” he said.

  Cord spread one of the blankets over the horse’s head and wet it down with water. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing, but he knew that the dark would calm the horse, and hopefully the cool wet blanket would help.

  “The doc’s on his way,” Galem said as his phone chimed. “He’ll be here in five.”

  Jackson, the rough cowhand whom Cord had rarely seen say more than three words without one of them being a swear word, now sat patting the horse’s neck and whispering softly as if he were talking to a baby.

  Cord stood, feeling helpless. He didn’t know horses. He only knew if something happened to one of Nevada’s beautiful animals she would be crushed. For some reason they seemed to mean more to her than people.

  The vet drove over the downed fence and hopped out of his truck running, bag in hand. His clothes were wrinkled and he was at least three days away from his last shave, but Doc Freeman was a welcome sight.

  Cord felt so relieved he almost hugged the man. Within minutes the doc was shouting orders to everyone and worki
ng with the skill of an emergency room specialist. He might look like a down-on-his-luck cowboy, but the vet knew what he was doing.

  Other hands arrived, circling around the animal, watching, worrying, whispering guesses of what might be wrong. Cord sent a few up to the barn to check on the other horses, fearing that the mare might be the first to be coming down with something deadly.

  But as he paced, he knew no illness had caused what was happening. It hadn’t taken much to figure out that the fresh tire tracks had come from the barn, crossed the pasture, and broken out. The shattered remains of the fence had been scattered on the road, not in the grass. Whoever did this was in a hurry to get away.

  “Maybe we should call the sheriff?” Galem asked.

  “Let’s see what we’re dealing with first. We take care of the animal, then call. When I worked at Parker Trucking I used to pass the sheriff heading for work a little after seven thirty. If we wait a few minutes we’ll get her and not some deputy who’s been up all night.”

  Whoever did this knew the property, and he knew how much the act would hurt Nevada. Cord could think of only one man who might have done it. Any fired hand could have slashed the tires on his car, but hurting a horse would cut deep. Bryce Galloway crossed his mind, and he decided that whether Nevada liked him in her business or not, he planned to find out more about the trouble between his wife and her last husband.

  Moving among the men, Cord asked each one what time he’d driven by the fence. Was it down when they passed? Did they see lights heading toward town?

  A few didn’t remember noticing because it was dark, but three swore the fence had been intact when they turned onto the road about fifteen minutes before Jackson had discovered it. He’d been running late. He was the last cowhand to head in from the main road. If he hadn’t overslept, they might not have found the horse for hours.

  Cord also knew the fence had been up when Nevada drove past to go to work. She would have noticed. He’d seen her look toward the barn every time they passed, no matter the hour.

  As Cord walked back, the doc stood. “No maybe about it. This horse has been poisoned. If we’d reached her ten minutes later, we’d be looking at a dead animal right now.”

  “But that barn is kept locked with the horses inside every night,” Galem said. “Since the day it was built, I don’t ever remember a single horse left in open pasture.”

  The vet lifted his bag. “If someone will stay with the mare, I’ll go check the other horses. By the time I get back, the shot I gave her will be working and she’ll be in less pain.” He walked toward Cord, scrubbing hair that hadn’t been combed in days. “Someone needs to notify the sheriff, and Cord, I’d appreciate it if you’d get a trailer up here for me to transport the mare to my clinic. Pad the sides as heavy as we can. I’ve got a strap in my pickup that will keep her standing once we get her in.”

  Cord nodded at the doctor as he ordered several men to follow the vet. Galem and Jackson went for the trailer.

  When all were busy, he walked back to his truck and spread his hands out wide on the hood, trying to calm down. Nevada hadn’t called, but she would. When she did, she’d panic at the news.

  Several minutes passed as he waited for Nevada to call and the sheriff to arrive. The vet reported that no other horses seemed to have been poisoned, and the mare had managed to stand on her own. When he helped Dr. Freeman load the mare, he realized the trainer was late. As the vet drove away, Cord pulled Zeb and one other man he trusted aside.

  “Either of you have any idea where the trainer lives?”

  Zeb nodded. “I was working here when he first came. Nevada wanted him to live on the ranch, but he insisted she rent him a house in town. Her husband at the time sided with the trainer. Me and another fellow were ordered to go help him move in. I think I can find the place without much trouble.”

  “Good. Go find out why he didn’t show up for work this morning. If he’s not sick, he’s fired.” He paused, then added, “Check his car for damages by a fence.” Cord doubted the trainer would run the fence; whoever did this must have known he had little time before being spotted where he didn’t belong.

  When Zeb was out of hearing distance, Galem said, “I’ll wait for the sheriff.” Everyone knew Cord hadn’t called in a crime when his tires had been slashed.

  “All right,” Cord answered. “You stay, but right now, I’ve got to get to Nevada before she hears about this from someone else. Tell the sheriff I’ll be happy to give a statement. She’s welcome to investigate anywhere on the land she needs to, and she’ll have full cooperation from every man.”

  Galem walked with Cord toward the door of his truck. “If Nevada’s not in her office, you might try the rig site out by Rattler Creek. Ora Mae said she wore her boots this morning.” Galem frowned. “She always wears her boots when she heads out there. She’s hated snakes ever since her big brothers used to tease her with little garden snakes.”

  “I’ll do that.” Cord climbed in his truck. “Keep me informed on anything here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  He headed toward town, trying to think how he could break the bad news to Nevada. She didn’t have to tell him how she loved the horses; he knew. He’d seen the way she patted them and cared for them. They were her children, her family.

  When he pulled into her office parking lot, he’d decided telling her straight out would be the only way.

  He walked in beneath a six-foot-tall gold plaque bearing the Boxed B brand. This was her world, all business and professional. The day he’d picked her up for lunch, it had taken her ten minutes to relax and talk at a normal speed. She might complain about it, but her father had groomed her to take over this business. Cord couldn’t help but wonder what the old man had done to make sure she knew oil. He must have thought she was his last chance after failing to make any of his sons ranchers.

  Cord rushed toward the main set of offices. Her office door stood dead center among them. The huge double doors had the Boxed B brand burned into the wood. Everything reminded him that she was a Britain, yet when they’d married, she’d insisted on taking his name.

  A receptionist jumped in his way with the look of a startled rabbit. “May I help you, sir?” she said, near panic when he didn’t slow. “These are private offices.”

  “I’m here to see my wife. I’m Cord McDowell.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, trying to get ahead of him. “Miss Britain is in an important meeting, but I’ll tell her you’re here.”

  When she glanced at a closed double door, Cord knew he’d be wasting his time bothering with the receptionist. “I’ll tell her myself and her name is no longer Britain, it’s McDowell.”

  He opened the door and walked in before he changed his mind or the rabbit thought of pouncing on him.

  Half a room away, Nevada stood talking to two men in suits. All three held papers in their hands, but the gray-haired suit looked like he’d paused in midsentence.

  Cord made it three more steps before he heard security rushing toward him from a side door. For a blink, they reminded him of the prison guards, beefy and determined. Only now, Cord wouldn’t back down. He stood his ground as they advanced.

  Nevada raised her hand before they reached him. “It’s all right. Don’t touch him.”

  Every one of her employees looked confused.

  “Gentlemen,” she said calmly, “this is my husband, and if he’s here, I’m sure it’s something important, so I’ll have to ask you all to step out for a moment.”

  The older lawyer looked bothered, but he walked out, closing the door behind him with a bang.

  Cord stood, facing Nevada from five feet away. Here in her tailored pantsuit and her hair tied up in a knot, she looked hard as stone. This woman could handle anything he had to tell her. It crossed his mind that he would have never fallen in love with Nevada if this were all he knew of her, but Cord knew the woman inside all the polish and ice.

  “What is it?” She seemed impatient, but not unkin
d. “I’ve got a full schedule this morning, but you obviously have something to say that can’t wait. So tell me.”

  He stared into her eyes, wondering where the woman he’d made love to only hours ago had gone. Maybe she was always like this at work. He’d stepped into her world. He’d stepped into where he didn’t belong and hadn’t been invited.

  “One of your mares was found down this morning. She’d been poisoned.”

  For a heartbeat, she didn’t move. She just stared at him.

  He forced it all out, knowing the blow would be no lighter if delayed. “Someone broke into your barn about dawn.”

  Color drained from her face. “Is the mare dead?”

  “No. Not yet. The vet says she’s got better than a fifty-fifty chance, but there may be internal damage.”

  He hadn’t realized he was moving toward her until he reached to brush her arms. “We loaded her up and sent her to the vet’s. He’ll watch over her. Galem called while I was driving in and said whoever did it didn’t know horses. He bloodied the mare’s lip forcing down the poison.”

  She backed away from Cord and gulped for air, then raised her arms at him. At first, he thought she was trying to block his words, but then she swung at him.

  Cord didn’t move. Didn’t try to defend against the blows as she pounded on him. The pain in her eyes was so great, he barely felt the hits. She was lost in a horror she’d always feared would come true.

  “I told you never to move my horses.”

  She sobbed so deeply he could barely understand her. He knew the blows were not aimed at him, but at the world. “No one touches my horses. No one hurts them. My daddy promised. Never again.”

  Engulfing her in a bear hug, he held on tightly as she struggled against him and swore, calling him names. As she cried, he knew her pain was bleeding through an old wound that had never healed. All he could do was stand and let her rage.

  After a while, she stopped and, leaning her head on his shoulder, cried.

  “It’s all right, Babe,” he whispered. “It’s going to be all right.” His hand pulled the pins from her hair and dug his fingers into the golden strands. “I didn’t want you to hear it from anyone but me. I couldn’t let the horse die without a fight. You’ve got to trust that we did all we could, and the vet is still working.”