Colton Christmas Rescue

by Beth Cornelison

  “Next?” the cashier called.

  Slade laid his purchases on the counter and noticed a small stuffed killer whale on the impulse purchase shelf by the register. Though they hadn’t visited Sea World, which the toy was a clear nod to, Slade added one of the stuffed animals to his pile on a whim.

  After paying for his loot, he found Amanda and Cheyenne at their gate and handed a water bottle and pack of crackers to Amanda. “Here.”

  She eyed them suspiciously before taking them. “Thank you.”

  He sat down beside Amanda and pulled the small killer whale out of the bag. “And this is for the little princess.” He handed the toy to Cheyenne, who grinned and immediately stuck the whale’s nose in her mouth.

  Blinking, Amanda shot him a startled look.

  He met her gaze, his gut tightening as he stared into their honey-colored depths. “What?”

  “For a jerk, you sure can be sweet.”

  He harrumphed and looked away. “It was an impulse buy. No big deal.”

  “Right,” she replied, her tone not agreeing at all. She gave his arm a squeeze, and her touch burrowed deep inside him.

  * * *

  The killer whale made it hard to stay mad at Slade. Over the next several days, every time she looked at Cheyenne gnawing on the nose of the toy or waving it in her chubby fist and squealing her delight, Amanda felt her resentment crack. Slade’s silence on what he’d learned from Breen didn’t seem as unforgivable given a couple days’ perspective. In hindsight, what stood out to her was his determination to verify Breen’s story before burdening her with bad news. What she remembered most about the trip to California was not Slade’s stubbornness, but his gentleness with Cheyenne, the belly laughs he elicited from her daughter and the sweet gesture of buying Cheyenne the whale toy.

  But where Slade’s kindness toward Cheyenne turned her insides to mush, the memory of Slade’s possessiveness toward her on the airplane gave her pause. The heat in his eyes when they’d been alone in the hotel had made her pulse quicken. The image of his muscular chest and taut abs when he’d stood in her door the last night, wakened by Cheyenne’s cry, had filled her thoughts in the days since returning to the ranch and kept her awake through several long winter nights.

  If he felt the same magnetic pull and crackle of sensuality as she suspected, why hadn’t he acted on it? Surely he wasn’t hung up on the fact that she was a member of the ranch owner’s family and he worked for her. His dismissiveness toward Mathilda’s scolding regarding proper family/staff interaction blew that theory out of the water. But she remembered his guardedness and the pain she’d seen in his eyes at times and knew there were layers to Slade she’d yet to uncover, hidden facets of his life. The last thing she needed was to get involved with another man with secrets. And what would happen when he found the answers he was here looking for? Would he walk away from the ranch, leave her behind and return to his life in Jackson without a backward glance? She knew her doubts were David’s legacy, but it didn’t make his deception and rejection any less painful.

  More than once, Amanda had pulled out her cell phone, wanting to call her friend Aurora and get her “Jersey girl” take on Slade. But Aurora—and Dylan—were gone from her life. Permanently. Witness Protection was forever.

  With the hands back from the rodeo, Slade spent less time in the pastures and more time shadowing her, even though he pretended the proximity was incidental. If she had her guess, she’d wager his reason for sticking close to her was rooted in the attack from the week before. Not only was he not-so-secretly protective of her, his gaze watched the other hands and the house staff like a wary bird of prey. His vigilance was an unwelcome reminder of the lurking danger on the ranch where she’d grown up, with the people she considered her second family. And while his unrequested bodyguard shtick nettled her innate independence and self-confidence, she had to admit feeling a comforting reassurance having him close by.

  On the contrary, the hardest part of returning from California turned out to be telling her sisters what she’d learned about Jethro’s dirty dealings. Cath had returned to the ranch to help with the final week of preparation before Gabby’s wedding, and Gray would join her here in a few days. Amanda hated spoiling Cath’s homecoming but knew she couldn’t keep the truth from her sisters. As it was, she needed a couple days to work up the courage to tell them what she’d learned. Finally, one afternoon late that week, she convened her sisters in her solarium while Cheyenne napped.

  Reyna rubbed against Catherine’s shins, and her sister lifted the fluffy cat onto her lap, scratching Reyna’s chin and cheeks. “Hello, little queen. Who’s a spoiled girl?”

  Reyna purred so loudly Amanda could hear her across the room.

  Gabby reached over to stroke Reyna’s head, as well. “What’s up? You say you learned something in California about Dad?”

  “Afraid so.” Amanda rubbed her palms on her jeans.

  “That doesn’t sound good,” Cath said, frowning.

  “It’s not. It’s...terrible. Disgusting.” Amanda picked up the tiny figure of Mary from the nativity set she’d put out on a table. She turned the figurine over in her hand, fidgeting absentmindedly.

  Gabby forgot about the cat and faced Amanda, a furrow in her brow. “Talk. What is it?”

  Amanda explained about the hush money Breen had paid Jethro to disassociate himself from Joe Colton. She told them about Breen’s allegations Jethro had ties to organized crime, how he’d bought the ranch as part of a deal to assure Jethro’s silence and how the family’s fortune had grown from that initial payoff and subsequent dirty dealings with Vinny Rizono.

  Tears filled Cath’s eyes and her hand stilled on Reyna’s fur. “I can’t believe it. I mean, I knew he had some bad habits and had made some enemies, but...organized crime?”

  Gabby shook her head, her expression stricken. “If it’s true, then I don’t want any part of his money. I don’t want any part of this ranch or any inheritance or stock in the natural gas drilling....”

  Amanda reached for Gabby’s hand. “I know how you feel. But don’t do anything rash. Slade is investigating the claims Breen made. There’s still a chance Breen was wrong or that there’s a good explanation, another side to all this.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “At least put it aside until after your wedding.” She divided a look between Cath and Gabby. “I hated to say anything, hated to spoil the happiness you’ve both found.”

  Cath hugged Reyna closer to her body, like a child clutching a doll. “You were right to tell us, hard as it is to hear.” Her sister blinked back her tears and raised her chin. “Do you think this Vinny Rizono could be behind the attacks here? The kidnapping attempts? Could this be revenge of some kind by this crime boss against Dad?”

  Amanda had wondered the same but dismissed it. She bit her lip and returned the figure of Mary to the nativity scene, carefully straightening the set. “There’s no evidence it is, but I’ll mention it to Slade. I’m sure if that’s the case, Slade will find it in his investigation.”

  Gabby tipped her head. “Why is Slade involved? Why would he investigate?”

  Oops.

  Amanda sat back in the wicker chair and bit down on a fingernail. “Um...” She couldn’t lie to her sisters. But she’d promised to keep Slade’s position with the WBI a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

  Cath and Gabby exchanged a look.

  “What if we guess?” Cath said.

  “Um...”

  “He’s not really a foreman. He’s really a cop working undercover to solve the murders here,” Cath said.

  Amanda’s eyes widened. “How did you know?”

  Cath blinked. “You mean I’m right? That was a guess. I was even joking!”

  Amanda raised an eyebrow. “No joke. He’s with the WBI.” She leveled her shoulders. “But no one is sup
posed to know. Don’t say anything.”

  Her sisters drew their fingers over their lips, zipping them closed.

  “And for what it’s worth, he is an experienced foreman. He worked ranches before he joined the WBI.”

  Gabby sent her a speculative look. “And my guess is that you’re sweet on Slade. Anything else about the trip to California you want to tell us?”

  Amanda folded her arms over her chest. “Nothing happened.”

  “But you’re interested in him? Something could develop between you two?” Cath asked, a sparkle lighting her eyes.

  Though she didn’t want to speculate on her relationship with Slade with her sisters, Amanda was grateful for anything that gave her sisters a reason to smile after the damning news she’d given them about Jethro.

  Gabby and Cath were resilient and had good men in their lives to support and encourage them. No matter what they all decided about breaking ties with Dead River Ranch and Jethro’s tainted fortune, her sisters would be fine, surrounded by love and the companionship of a faithful husband. For an instant, Amanda envied them, but she shoved the jealousy aside, focusing on her own blessings. She had Cheyenne and her career. She’d be fine without Jethro’s money.

  * * *

  On their fourth night back from California, Amanda was finishing her evening chores in the stable and telling Prince William good-night when Jared Hansen burst into the stable.

  “Miss Amanda? We need you!” the hand called down the stable alley.

  She hurried outside to find Jared and George opening a livestock trailer behind one of the ranch trucks. Inside the trailer, lying on the floor, was an obviously suffering cow. Her gut wrenched for the animal. “What happened to her?”

  “She’s in premature labor,” George answered. “We tried to deliver the calf in the field, but it’s hung up somehow.”

  Amanda’s heart sank. The prospects for both the cow and her calf were grim, but she rallied her professionalism and took control of the crisis. “Okay, back the trailer into the livestock barn. Put her in an open stall. I’ll get my supplies and meet you there.”

  Jared rode with the cow as George pulled away, and Amanda jogged into the stable to retrieve her veterinary bag and extra medical supplies.

  “Problem?” Slade asked, looking up from a saddle he was rubbing with oil.

  “Yeah.” She grabbed a box of long gloves, a couple bottles of iodine, and her vet bag from the storage cabinet. “Delivery emergency. Looks bad for the cow and her baby.”

  Slade’s expression sobered, and for a moment he didn’t move. Finally he sucked in a deep breath and rose from the bench where he was working. “What can I do?”

  “I don’t know. They’re putting her in the livestock barn. I’m headed there now.” She trotted out of the stable, her arms loaded.

  He caught up to her in a few long strides, scooping some of the supplies into his own arms and accompanying her to the barn.

  When she reached the stall where the mother cow had been moved, she donned a pair of long gloves and shifted into emergency mode, fully focused on her patient and the two lives that hung in the balance. Her initial exam told her the calf was turned the wrong way and had its umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. She was afraid to sedate the mother, due to her already dropping heart rate, and relied on Slade, George and Jared to hold the mother while she attempted to remove the umbilical from around the calf’s throat in utero.

  “Miss Amanda?”

  Her concentration was so focused on the procedure that she didn’t register the female voice until Jared groused, “She’s a little busy now, don’t you think?”

  Amanda glanced up to the stall door. Fiona stared wide-eyed and a bit green around the gills at the blood on the hay and on Amanda’s long glove. “I—I’m sorry to bother you, but Mr. Brooks sent me to find you.”

  Amanda stiffened. “Is everything okay with Cheyenne?”

  Fiona nodded hesitantly. “Your baby’s okay, but Mr. Brooks is sick. Dr. Colton thinks it could be a stomach virus, and he sent Mr. Brooks out of the nursery.”

  Amanda surged to her feet, panicking. “Then who’s watching Cheyenne?”

  Fiona shifted nervously. “Well, Dr. Colton is right now, but he said he needs to get back to Mr. Jethro.”

  Amanda glanced at the suffering cow and heaved a sigh of distress. She hated to abandon the animal who’d surely die without her help. But given the choice of protecting her daughter or saving the cow, her daughter won hands down every time.

  Slade pushed to his feet and gripped her shoulders. “I’ll go.”

  Her eyes darted up to meet his. She remembered how reluctant he’d been to babysit Cheyenne earlier in the week at the hotel. “Are you sure?”

  He jerked a nod. “You’re needed here.”

  “I...” She held his gaze, knowing instinctively he was the best option, knowing on a gut level that her daughter would be safe with him, and appreciating more than she could express his understanding of her need and voluntary help. “Thank you.”

  He gave her shoulders a firm squeeze, then followed Fiona back to the house.

  With a cleansing breath, Amanda shoved aside the distraction and set back to work saving the cow and her calf.

  Hours later, well after midnight, the calf was delivered stillborn, but Amanda managed to spare the mother. Though heartbroken over the calf, she considered the cow’s survival a victory. Things had been touch-and-go many times, and they could easily have lost the cow, as well.

  Jared volunteered to sit up with the cow, promising to send for Amanda if the mother took a turn for the worse. After thanking George and Jared for their help and washing up thoroughly at the sink in the stable, she trudged wearily back to the house and upstairs to her suite. Slipping off her boots, Amanda tiptoed into the nursery, her sock feet silent on the plush carpet. She was already yawning and anticipating overdue slumber. If Cheyenne was asleep. She sighed wearily. Please let Cheyenne be asleep.

  The room was dark. A good sign. She hurried to the crib and peeked in.

  Empty. Cheyenne’s pink blanket hung askew over the railing.

  Panic swelled in her chest. “Slade?”

  Turning on the nearest lamp, Amanda cast a glance around the room. Slade’s Stetson was on the floor beside the rocking chair, but he was nowhere in sight. “Slade!”

  Amanda rushed into her bedroom, flipping on the overhead light as she entered. Nothing. No one.

  “Slade!” she heard the desperation that filled her voice, the dread. Where were Slade and Cheyenne?

  Chapter 14

  Without hesitation she snatched her phone from her back pocket, ready to call the police, ready to sound the alarm that her daughter had been taken, that Slade could be hurt...when a noise in the bathroom caught her attention. Water running.

  Heart in her throat and phone still in her hand, Amanda crept toward the closed bathroom door. Twisted the knob. Prayed. Please don’t let Slade or my baby be dead!

  When Amanda cracked open the door, a cloud of scented steam billowed out. The humid, pungent air wrapped around her like a suffocating quilt.

  But it was the sight that greeted her that stole her breath. Slade, dripping sweat, sitting on the floor, propped against the side of the bathtub with Cheyenne lying facedown against his chest. His bare chest. His long muscled bare legs stretched out in front of him.

  Amanda blinked, her pulse jumping. Slade wore only his boxer briefs, damp now and clinging to his... Oh, my! She released a stuttering breath.

  Hot water poured from the bathtub spigot, renewing the supply of steam. The closed toilet seat beside him was littered with a vial of menthol rub— so that was what she smelled— a nasal aspirator and a box of facial tissues. Her daughter had been stripped to her diaper and, rosy cheeked, snoozed soundly beneath S
lade’s splayed hand.

  Amanda tried to process the scene, her brain slow to shift from panic over a potential kidnapping to...this. A full-scale respiratory intervention...with a heavy dose of drool-worthy, oh-my-god-what-a-bod man sprawled on her floor.

  Hearing her enter, Slade raised bleary eyes to her and swiped perspiration from his face. When she opened her mouth to speak, he pressed a finger to his lips and whispered over the whoosh of rushing bath water, “I just got her to sleep. If you wake her, I will douse you in honey and stake you to an ant hill.”

  She choked on a throttled laugh, shaking her head in wonder.

  “What happened here?” she asked, even though the evidence was clear.

  He sighed. “It’s been a rough night. She does not like having her nose suctioned.”

  “Can you blame her?” Amanda smiled, even as tears of gratitude and awe puddled in her eyes. The rough, tough ranch-hand-slash-WBI agent had spent the evening sweating and dealing with her cranky, snotty baby. He’d stuck with the task, putting Cheyenne’s needs first, and hadn’t abandoned her when it got hard and dirty and uncomfortable. Her chest throbbed with a tender ache. Slade had definitely won major “prince” points tonight.

  And it didn’t hurt that he looked so damn sexy for his efforts...even if his hair was frizzing a little in the humidity. Especially because his hair was frizzing in the humidity. She had the same problem with her hair, and somehow it humanized him and endeared him to her all the more that he suffered from the same annoyance.

  She shook her head, a grin tugging her cheek. “I can’t believe you voluntarily suctioned my baby’s stuffy nose. Most guys I know would be grossed out and run the other way. Fast.”

  He matched her lopsided grin. “I’m a ranch foreman. Gross is in the job description. I don’t scare easily.”