The Rancher & Heart of Stone

by Diana Palmer

  So when she felt his fingertips teasing just around the edge of her breast, she jumped and pulled back.

  She expected an explosion. Once, just once, she’d given in to temptation in her adult years and agreed to go out with a salesman who came through town. He’d grabbed her in the car and she’d jerked away from him. He’d been furious, snapping at her about girls who teased. And then he’d forcibly run his hand over her shoulder and her breast. She could never forget the look of utter horror in his face. He’d pushed her away from him. He took her home without a single word. He hadn’t even looked at her when she got out of the car. It wasn’t as bad as the date she’d had at the tender age of sixteen that had ended in such trauma. But it was bad enough. That was the last time she’d ever gone out with a man on a date.

  But Boone wasn’t angry. In fact, he looked pleased rather than offended at her lack of response.

  He withdrew his hand and traced her swollen lips with it. “Well!” he exclaimed softly, and he smiled.

  She was worried. “You aren’t...mad?”

  He shook his head. “Virgins need gentle handling,” he whispered, and bent to kiss her, tenderly, when she blushed.

  When he drew back, his expression was solemn and gentle. He smoothed over her hair, touched her cheek, her mouth, her chin. “When are you going to be twenty?” he asked after a minute.

  “Chr-Christmas Eve,” she stammered.

  “Christmas Eve. In four months.” He kissed her eyelids closed, smiling against them. “We’ll have to do something very special for your birthday.”

  “We? Oh, you mean Winnie and Clark and you?”

  He lifted his head and searched her eyes. “Why wouldn’t you think I meant just you and me?” he queried.

  “There’s Misty,” she reminded him.

  He frowned, as if he didn’t know who she was talking about. The magic seemed to seep away. He withdrew his hand and became aloof. “Misty,” he repeated.

  The magic drained out of the night. He became the distant stranger, the aloof man of the past. At that moment, he looked as if he’d never considered touching Keely.

  She wrapped her arms around herself against a chill that didn’t come from the night air. “It’s getting cool,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Yes, it is.” He moved away from her, deep in thought. He paused to open the door for her.

  She went through it without looking up. She said nothing. He said nothing. She went to the refreshment table and got a small cup of soda and sat down with it over against the wall.

  She watched Boone stop at a group of cattlemen and stand talking to them. Her eyes darted around to see if Clark had returned. When she glanced toward the group of cattlemen again, Boone was gone. She didn’t see him again.

  * * *

  CLARK PICKED HER up. He looked disheveled and out of sorts.

  “The pearls were the wrong color,” he said dejectedly. “She wanted pink ones. I got gray ones.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced at her and grimaced. “I hated leaving you there alone,” he confessed. “I’m really sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  “It was all right,” she said. “I liked the music.”

  “You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had,” he said after a minute. “But you shouldn’t let me take advantage of you like this.”

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  He gave her a rakish grin. “Good girl.”

  “What’s our next project?”

  He sighed. “I really don’t know. I’ll let you know when she decides if she wants to see me again.”

  “She will,” she said with conviction.

  “We’ll see.”

  * * *

  DR. RYDEL WAS raising more hell than usual when Keely went in to work the next Monday.

  “I told you to reorder that low-fat dog food last week,” he was raging at their newest clerk, Antonia.

  “But I did, Dr. Rydel,” she said, near tears. “They had it on back order.”

  He made a rude sound. “And I suppose the urn containing Mrs. Randolph’s old cat is also on back order?” he added sarcastically.

  Antonia was red by this time. “No, sir, I forgot to check on it is all. I’m sorry,” she added quickly.

  It didn’t make any difference. He stood in front of her and glared. She burst into tears and ran into the back.

  “Oh, nice job, Doctor,” his colleague, Dr. Patsy King, muttered. “She’ll quit and we’ll have to break in yet another clerk. How many is that so far this year? Let me think...six, isn’t it?” she added with as much sarcasm as she could muster.

  Bentley glared at her. “Four!”

  “Oh. Only four.” She rolled her eyes. “That makes me feel better.”

  “Don’t you have a patient waiting, Dr. King?” he drawled, eyes flashing.

  She sighed. “Yes, I do, thank God, but I came out here to get our clerk to schedule her next appointment. I suppose I’ll be doing that myself!” She looked pointedly toward the back where Antonia was audibly sobbing.

  He cursed.

  She made a face. “Oh, like that’s going to help!” she grumbled. She sat down in Antonia’s chair and used the computer to schedule the next visit for her patient. While she was at it, she added up the charges and printed out a sheet listing them.

  “I could help you do that,” Keely offered.

  “No, you could not,” Dr. Rydel muttered. “I need you to help with examinations, not making appointments.”

  “Speaking of which, Keely, could you carry this dog out to Mrs. Reynolds’s car for her?” Dr. King asked, and smiled gently.

  “Of course,” Keely answered at once, and walked off with Dr. King, leaving a fuming Dr. Rydel behind.

  * * *

  AFTER THAT MORNING, it was open war between the two senior veterinarians in the practice. Dr. King was three years younger than Dr. Rydel, married with two children, and she needed her job. But she threatened to leave if he didn’t stop using the clerks for target practice. Keely and the senior vet tech and the other veterinarian, Dr. Dave Mercer, tried to keep out of Dr. Rydel’s way until his temper improved. Nobody knew what had set him off, but he was like a prizefighter walking down the street wearing boxing gloves. He was spoiling for a fight.

  It was a relief for Keely when the workweek was over and she could get away from the tension. She was still mooning over Boone and reliving the tender kisses he’d shared with her on the patio of the community center. She didn’t understand his behavior at all. Everything had been fine until she’d mentioned Misty. Then he’d withdrawn as if he’d felt guilty about touching Keely. He’d left the dance rather than risk having to talk to her again.

  Worse, people were gossiping about the two of them. Tess Hart had teased her about going out onto the patio with Boone and coming back inside flushed. She’d mentioned it to Cag. Probably he’d told his brothers and they’d told other people. So Keely got teased when she went to the grocery store, because one of the checkout girls had a boyfriend on the Hart Ranch properties. Then she got teased at the bank, because one of the tellers was married to Cag Hart’s livestock foreman. That teller’s married daughter worked at the 911 center with Winnie.

  “You and Boone are the talk of the town, did you know?” Winnie teased her friend when they had lunch together at Barbara’s Café that Saturday.

  “Boone’s going to kill me,” Keely said miserably. “Clark’s probably going to want to kill me, too, when he realizes that Boone knows what he’s up to.”

  “Oh, Boone always knows,” Winnie said easily. “Clark can never hide anything from him—or from me. But just between us two, I don’t think this Nellie thing is going very much further. She got mad because Clark gave her the wrong color pearls. That, after he’s given her most of a jewelry store!” She leaned forward. “And it turns out that she’s married.”

  “What?” Keely exclaimed. “Does Clark know?”

  “That, and more,” Winnie said. “W
hen I left home, Boone was presenting our brother with a thick file on Miss Nellie Summers. He said Clark wasn’t leaving the house until he’d read every sordid detail.”

  “Poor Clark.”

  Winnie chuckled. “He was cussing mad after he read the first page,” she said. “He wouldn’t have believed it even two weeks ago, but apparently Boone picked just the right time to tell him the truth.”

  “I’m glad,” she confessed. “It was putting me right in the middle, being used as Clark’s cover.”

  “Clark shouldn’t have done that. Boone was angry. He said Clark had no right to use you that way.”

  “Clark’s my friend. I could have said no,” Keely said softly.

  “You never say no to anyone,” Winnie replied, concerned. “You’re too good to people, Keely. You won’t stand up for yourself.”

  “I’m trying.”

  “Clark walks all over you. So does Boone. I’ll bet Dr. Rydel does, too.”

  “Dr. Rydel walks all over everybody,” Keely pointed out.

  “Well, you do have a point there.” She sipped coffee and then her eyes began to twinkle. “So what was going on with you and my brother at the dance?”

  “Not you, too!” Keely wailed.

  “I’m your best friend. You have to tell me.”

  Keely put on her best bland expression. “He wanted to talk to me about Clark without everybody eavesdropping.”

  Winnie’s face fell. “Was that all?”

  “What else would there be?” Keely replied. “You know Boone can’t stand me. Usually he ignores me. But he knew Clark was up to something and that I was helping him. He got it out of me.”

  “He’s good at that,” Winnie had to admit. “They used to let him interrogate people when he was in the military.” She toyed with her coffee cup. “He’s changed so much since he came back from overseas. He used to be a happy sort of person. He’s not happy now.” She looked up. “He goes out with Misty, but he never touches her.”

  Keely’s heart jumped. “How do you know?”

  “He never picks up anything,” she said with affection. “He just leaves his clothes lying around in his room. I gather them up and put them in the hamper for Mrs. Johnson. There are never any lipstick stains on his shirts.” She paused, her lips pursed. “Well, that’s not quite the truth. Last Saturday night, there were quite a few lipstick stains on his collar.”

  Keely’s face flamed and Winnie laughed triumphantly. Keely knew that Winnie would go straight to Boone and tease him if she guessed what had happened. She couldn’t let her friend know for sure. If Boone were teased about Keely at home, it would all be over before it had time to begin.

  “No wonder he’s been like a scalded snake all week,” Winnie mused, watching Keely closely. “And he hasn’t even called Misty. Odd, isn’t it?”

  “Just slow down, if you please. I danced with him,” Keely muttered. “Of course I got lipstick on his collar.”

  Winnie’s happy mood slowly drained away. She frowned. “Are you sure that’s all?”

  Keely gave her friend a speaking look. “Boone can’t stand me. He was just trying to find out why Clark and I had gone to a dance and Clark was missing.”

  “Oh, Fish and Chips!” Winnie muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  Winnie shifted. “Good Lord, I’m catching Hayes Carsonitis!” she exclaimed.

  “What?”

  “Hayes Carson doesn’t cuss like a normal man. He says things like ‘Crackers and Milk!’ and ‘Fish and Chips!’ It rubs off when you’re around him.”

  “What are you doing hobnobbing with Hayes Carson?” Keely asked.

  “On the radio!”

  “Oh. Right.”

  “He’s not bad-looking,” Winnie mused. “And he’s much friendlier than Kilraven. I should really set my cap at him.”

  “You’d break Kilraven’s heart,” Keely teased.

  Winnie wrinkled her nose. “Like he’d notice if I flirted with another man,” she said shortly. “He’s trying Boone’s tactics. He’s ignoring me.”

  “He’s probably just busy.”

  Winnie toyed with her napkin. “Men are not worth the trouble they cause,” she said irritably.

  Keely laughed. “No,” she agreed. “They aren’t.”

  “And don’t we both lie well?” Winnie retorted.

  Keely nodded.

  The little café was crowded for a Saturday, mostly with tourists trying to enjoy the last fleeting days of August. Jacobsville had an annual rodeo that drew crowds, because it attracted some of the stars of the circuit. The prize money wasn’t bad, either.

  “There are a lot of cars with out-of-state tags,” Winnie murmured. “I guess it’s the rodeo that draws them.”

  “I was just thinking about the rodeo.” Keely chuckled. “Great minds running in the same direction.”

  “Exactly. I think—” Winnie’s voice broke off. She was staring at the front door helplessly.

  Keely glanced toward the entrance. Kilraven, still in uniform, was standing just inside the door. He really was hunky, Keely thought; tall, handsome and elegant with silver eyes and thick black hair. He was muscular without it being blatant.

  “Excuse me,” he called in his deep voice. “Is anyone here driving a red SUV with Oklahoma plates?”

  A young man in jeans and chambray shirt raised his hand. “Yes. I am,” he called. “Anything wrong, Officer?”

  Kilraven walked to his table, spotted Winnie and Keely and nodded politely before he stood over the man. “Did you pick up a deer from the side of the road, sir?” he asked.

  The young man laughed. “Yes, I did. It was just killed by a car, I think, because it was still warm and limp when I picked it up.” The smile faded. “I was only going to take it home and cut it up for my freezer. Did I do something wrong?”

  Kilraven cleared his throat. “You might want to call your insurance agent.”

  The young man looked blank. “Why?”

  “The deer wasn’t dead.”

  “Wasn’t...dead?” He nodded.

  “And it left the vehicle rather suddenly, through your windshield.”

  The young man was still nodding. “Through the windshield?” He stiffened. “Through my windshield? In my brand-new truck? Aaahhh!”

  He jumped up, overbalancing his chair so that it fell. He almost trampled a couple getting out the door. His scream of dismay could be heard even with the door closed.

  Kilraven shook his head as he paused beside Winnie. “The deer was just stunned,” he said with faint amusement in his silver eyes. “We had a man make that same mistake about six months ago during hunting season. But fortunately for him, the deer came to before he could lift it into his truck.”

  Outside the café, the screams were getting louder.

  Kilraven glanced outside and chuckled. “He’ll want a report for his insurance agency. I’d better go write him up.”

  “Have they found Macreedy yet?” Winnie asked with a drawl and a grin.

  Kilraven groaned. “He surfaced over in Bexar County about five yesterday afternoon trailing forty cars in a funeral procession. They were supposed to be headed for a cemetery in Comanche Wells, where they were due at three o’clock,” he added, because Keely was looking puzzled. “He did finally get them to the right church...after several cars stopped to get gas.”

  “That’s twice this month. They should never let Macreedy lead a funeral procession,” Winnie pointed out.

  Kilraven chuckled. “I told Hayes Carson the same thing, but he says Macreedy will never learn self-confidence if he pulls him off public service details now.”

  “Doesn’t he have a map?” Keely wanted to know.

  “If he does, he can’t ever find it,” Kilraven said with a sigh. “He led the last funeral procession down into a bog near the river and the hearse got stuck.” He laughed. “It’s funny now, but nobody was laughing at the time. They had to get tow trucks to haul everybody out.”

  “Hayes
should cut his losses and put Macreedy on administrative duties,” Winnie said.

  “Big mistake. Hayes put him in charge of the jail month before last and he let a prisoner out to use the bathroom and forgot to lock him up again. The prisoner robbed a bank while he was temporarily liberated.” He shook his head. “I don’t think Macreedy’s cut out for a career in law enforcement.”

  “Yes, but his father does,” Winnie reminded him.

  “His father was a career state trooper,” Kilraven told Keely. “He insisted that his son was to follow in his footsteps.”

  “Hayes Carson is our sheriff,” Keely said, confused. “Macreedy’s a sheriff’s deputy.”

  “Yes, well, Macreedy started out working as a state trooper,” Winnie began.

  Kilraven was chuckling again. “And then he pulled over an undercover drug unit in their van just as they were speeding up to stop a huge shipment of cocaine. They’d been working the case for weeks. The drug dealers got away while Macreedy was citing the drug agents for a burned-out taillight. Macreedy’s dad did manage to save him from the guys in the drug unit, but he was invited to practice his craft somewhere else.”

  “So Hayes Carson got him,” Winnie continued. “Hayes is his second cousin.”

  “Sheriff Carson could have said no,” Keely replied.

  “You don’t say no to Macreedy’s father,” Kilraven retorted.

  “At least he’s learning all the back roads,” Winnie said philosophically.

  Kilraven grinned at her. The look lasted just a second too long to be conventional, and Winnie’s delicate skin took on a pretty flush.

  “Where’s my rifle?” came a bellow from the parking lot. “Somebody stole my rifle!”

  Kilraven glanced out the window. The young fellow who owned the red SUV was running down the street with a rifle, in the general direction that the escaped deer had gone. The gun’s owner was jumping up and down in his rage and yelling threats after the deer hunter.

  “I’d better go save the deer hunter,” Kilraven remarked.

  “I hope he has an understanding insurance agent,” Keely mused.

  “And a good lawyer. Stealing rifles is a felony.” Kilraven nodded at them and went striding out the door.

  “Well!” Keely teased softly. “And you don’t think he likes you?”