She peeked around the shrub. “If there was only some way to sneak around the meadow and catch him.”
He turned to her, his eyebrows boosted to disappear beneath his hat brim. “You have a death wish, McCoy? Or maybe your travels to mystical lands have taught you a way to make yourself invisible?”
Before she could respond to his smartass crack, a distant internal engine coughed and rumbled. She closed her eyes in brief thanks. “They’re leaving.”
“Stay down.” Holt squeezed her shoulders, although she hadn’t made a move to rise. “He may figure he can’t get us without revealing himself. Or it may be a trick.” Eyes flinty with intensity, he continued to stare across the meadow.
Maddy stared also, but could detect nothing. She’d had enough of death and destruction, but why the hell couldn’t they defended gotten a look at the shooter?
“One of those bullets may still be in the tree. The state lab can tell us if it’s from the same gun. Our killer may just have made his first big mistake.” Holt’s smile was as cold as a north wind. “We’ll call the sheriff from the Circle-S.”
“But the horses—”
“Are right over there.” He pointed to about fifty yards away where both were grazing peacefully. “They’re too well trained to go far.”
Her brain whirred, trying to puzzle out what she and Holt could know, why the killer wanted them dead. Clearly his intention wasn’t merely to frighten them. “If we get back early enough, I’ll drive to Fort Adams to the photo lab. Maybe the enlarged prints will tell us what we need to know.”
Holt gave a noncommittal grunt, his laser focus trained on the distance.
A few moments later, he stood and held out a hand to her. “It’s okay. We can get going.”
She hesitated, then accepted the hand up. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
“Look out across the meadow.”
She followed the direction of his nod. In the same general area of the gunshots’ origin three deer grazed. Two of the graceful creatures munched peacefully on new tender shoots while the third, a young buck, stood watch. He flicked his tail and cast occasional wary glances at his equine cousins on the near side of the meadow.
She exhaled the breath she was holding. Relief sent adrenaline tremors through her, turning her knees to pudding. She gritted her teeth to keep them from clacking. She’d ducked gunfire before but always she’d had a job to do to distract her. This time it seemed her job had led to the flying bullets.
Holt wrapped his powerful arms around her and held her on her feet. He tucked her head beneath his chin. “Hey, McCoy. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You did great. I guess it’s not every day you get shot at. You’re entitled to let it get to you.”
She couldn’t speak, lost in the aftermath and the heady sensations of Holt’s embrace. Enveloped in his sheepskin jacket, she wrapped her arms around his middle. Soft fleece and his body heat warmed her hands, icy even in gloves. Adrenaline must cause hypersensitivity, because with her ear against Holt’s throat, she could hear the steady beat of his heart, even the rush of blood through his veins. The curves and planes of his hard muscles were hard and solid against her hardening nipples.
Almost imperceptibly, his heart sped up, and a fine tension pervaded his muscles. The arousal prodding Maddy’s belly told her he was as aware of her.
She had never before felt so thankful for a man’s protection. In her profession, she’d had to be self-sufficient and independent, relying on herself for everything, including safety.
She was getting too used to Holt’s protection and strength. When her time here ended, she’d have no choice but to return to her peripatetic life. Although he seemed to have forgiven her, he didn’t love her. Worse, he still distrusted her. For now, she’d inhale his scent and savor the feel of his arms. She’d commit those sensations to memory. Leaving him would leave a hollow the size of Colorado in her chest.
Twice now he’d pulled her from harm’s way and sheltered her with his body. He used his rugged strength to save her, yet his handling of her was gentle and considerate, never rough. He was a protector by nature and by training.
A powerful combination. A powerful aphrodisiac.
She turned to touch her lips to the rapid-fire pulse in his neck. His scent—sun-warmed skin and horse and leather—made her giddy. She pulled back and gazed up at him. “Holt?”
Laser-blue flames flickered in his eyes. He stared at her a moment, a muscle in his jaw jumping. “Aw, hell, Maddy.”
Holt swept off his hat. Cupping the back of her head with his left hand, he bent and pressed his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and soft, and he kissed her with devastating skill. His tongue stroked her teeth, her inner textures, her essence.
Pleasure rose through her in soft flutters. Heat licked over her body. This was Holt, the man she’d run from for years. She didn’t want to run any more. She drank in his taste and his desire. She absorbed him with all the passion she’d bottled up for so long. Each caress of his lips and tongue brought the blood leaping through her veins.
Suddenly her tee and lace bra were yanked up and one breast cradled in his right hand. He bent her over his arm and lowered his head. When his mouth closed over one puckered nipple, longing swept through her, and she moaned in need. Excitement tingled through her, suspending her in shimmering sensation.
Gradually he eased his grip on her. He gave each breast a soft lick, then tugged down her shirt. “We ought to get going. Call the sheriff.”
She trembled, not from fear but from wrenching, primitive desire. Coordinating her clumsy fingers to readjust her bra was a tough order.
“Damn. I was all over you like an animal. Just after you could’ve been killed.” He hooked a finger beneath her chin and turned her face. “I did shave this morning, but I’ve marked you.”
Her heart thumped wildly, and her breath came quick and shallow. His kisses had nearly dissolved her knees and melted her insides to syrup. She wouldn’t let him apologize for something they both wanted.
She gave him her best, most confident smile. “Beard burn? Just what we need to convince everyone at the Circle-S that we’re engaged. Phyllis has spread the story to every other ranch we visited. They must’ve heard it here too.”
He stared at her blankly for a moment, then scratched his head. Sometimes she drove him nuts. Looked like this was one of those times. Or maybe he just realized again he would have to act engaged, even accept congratulations.
He nodded his understanding. “I’ll get the horses.”
He strode across the field, all loose-limbed confidence and male grace. Maddy had run from her attraction to him once. She ached at the prospect of repeating that. What was she getting herself into?
Mentally shelving the problem until later, she stared at the bullet-wounded aspen. The first jagged hole was almost too high for her to reach on tiptoes.
Her heartbeat clattered anew, and her knees wobbled. “Holt, that bullet was aimed high. As high as...the body of a mounted rider. Like I was the intended target.”
Returning, he handed over her mare’s reins. “If those shots are connected with Rob’s murder, they could’ve meant to scare us off. Aimed high not meaning to hit us. Just coincidence you started to mount at that moment.”
She bit her lip, not convinced. “I believe I heard that you lawmen types don’t believe in coincidences.”
Mouth tight and eyes averted, he made no reply.
Chapter 13
By the time Holt finished with the county detectives and returned with them from the ambush site to the Circle-S, it was afternoon. The rocky trail beneath Ghost Mountain had contained no tire tracks, but the aspen had yielded bullets to be sent to the ballistics lab.
The guest and cattle ranch was a larger spread than Holt’s by a thousand more acres and bordered the Pike National Forest, where the Raffertys had grazing rights and access to riding trails for their guests. Outbuildings clustered around the main house like Herefords around a feed trough
. A new stable to replace the one that had burned stood next to the barn. In addition, the string of guest cabins attested to the ranch’s prosperity.
Witnessing what other ranchers had to do these days to make ends meet, let alone flourish, made his gut queasy. Some of the larger ranchers sold off great parcels of prime acreage for vacation homes and wildlife refuges. Others, like the Raffertys, eked out their living by entertaining city folks who wanted a taste of the real West.
What would he have to give up to make a go of the Valley-D? He was sure no genial host like Will Rafferty. Nor did he have enough acreage to spare for vacation real estate.
“The sheriff will notify you when we have more information,” the chief detective said. He tipped his hat in farewell. After the detectives picked up the other deputy who’d been questioning the ranch employees, they drove away.
Holt strolled toward the ranch house to find Maddy. She’d been more sanguine about that hot embrace than he had. Damn, he’d nearly ripped off her clothes and had her there on the hard ground. And he had the feeling it would have been with her cooperation.
If they had sex, could they keep it uncomplicated, casual? Would a sweaty bout or two between the sheets excise his craving for her? She already had him tied in knots, had him sniffing her scent and listening for her voice in the breeze. The image of those perfect breasts tipped with the color of ripening strawberries brought her taste back to him so strong that his mouth watered.
Hell, he didn’t need this. He had to concentrate on the ranch and on solving the murder of his family.
With all the excitement, he’d thought he might have to forgo a discussion about Rob with the Raffertys. He spied Will on the porch. Shit no, he had to get it over with.
Like the authorities, he’d found no inconsistencies or shaky alibis for any of the ranchers or cowhands he’d interviewed. Whoever wanted Rob dead must have hired the gun, and this neighboring property was a prime staging area for a paid killer waiting his chance.
The ranch manager greeted Holt from the ranch-house porch. A wide grin crinkled his eyes as he tipped back his high-crowned hat. “You’ve had a day to put a crimp in your hat. Want some coffee or a cerveza?” Will stuck out a hand.
Holt took the firm grip. “A beer would go down just fine about now.” In a few minutes, he’d find Maddy and the horses, and they could be on their way.
Will fetched a couple of long-necks, and they sat on padded cedar chairs in the screen-enclosed section of the porch. “They find anything?”
“Not much.” Holt knew better than to disclose information. Word got around, no matter how circumspect one intended to be. “Did anyone go out hunting this morning? Or see a vehicle between the creek and Ghost Mountain?” He figured he knew the answer before Will responded.
The other man shook his head. “Most of the guests went out with the wranglers on a trail ride through parkland. That’s the other direction. They’re still out.”
“Anyone not go on that trail ride?”
“Some kids and a few older guests. My sister organized activities for those who wanted them. Two of my regular hands are working on props for next weekend’s cowboy action shooting matches. My folks went to Denver for a few days. Aside from me, that’s it.” He slanted Holt a consoling smile. “I went all through this with the deputy.”
“I appreciate that, Will.” Holt tipped up his bottle for a calming gulp. “You’re real understanding to let me grill you like this without taking offense.”
“After what happened to your brother, I don’t blame you for trying to find out all you can. I’d do the same thing if anything like that happened to my family.” Will plunged a blunt-fingered hand through his thick reddish-brown hair. “You think the two incidents are connected?”
Holt’s gut tightened but he schooled his features into a noncommittal mask. “Your guess is as good as mine. I’d sure like to know why someone might have wanted to kill Rob. And why they might want to kill Maddy and me.”
Anxiety creased Will’s freckled forehead. “You think it was murder and not a hunting accident of some kind?”
“I do. For lots of reasons. And whoever shot at us today meant to kill us.”
Will’s mouth curved in a wry grin. “So I’m a suspect along with my cowhands and paying guests?”
“I suspect no one and everyone. No offense, Will.”
“None taken.” He shifted in his chair and crossed his legs, propping one ankle on the opposite knee. “I’ll level with you. Rob and I had our differences.”
Holt’s pulse kicked into a fast trot. In spite of his temper, Rob had charmed everyone he met. Was this just another example, or something more? “What do you mean?”
“When my family bought the Circle-S a few years ago, we knew we’d have to keep adding activities and entertainment so guests had plenty to interest them. We wanted repeat visitors, and visitors who’d tell their friends about us.”
Holt tipped back his Resistol and scratched his forehead in puzzlement. “What does this have to do with Rob?”
“One of the things I wanted to feature was a real silver mine. I offered to buy the entire Ghost Mountain section of the Valley-D from Rob. He turned me down. Twice.”
Holt blew out a breath. “That’s just business. I won’t sell it to you either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly neighbors. Is there more to it?”
“Not really. Rob took the offers the wrong way. He thought I was offering charity because he was having trouble making ends meet.” He scraped fingers through his hair again. “Hell, I never even knew about his financial troubles until he told me. Ordered me off his place and wouldn’t let his wife come visit with Faith after that.”
Holt could picture his brother exploding like that. “You’re not telling me anything new about my brother. He was the cheerful charmer unless you crossed him. Usually he got over it pretty quick though. My apologies on his behalf.”
“Not necessary. I just wanted you to know. I gave up tryin’ to tame tornadoes a few years ago, so I wanted to give him time to cool off, stop tossing his horns. If he hadn’t got killed, I’d have suggested a compromise. My offer’s open.”
The former bulldogger’s analogy was apt, and the possibility of a compromise piqued Holt’s curiosity. Not that he was interested, but he might as well listen. Just to be neighborly. “What sort of compromise?”
Will swallowed some of his beer. He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Excitement gleamed in his eyes. “A lease for recreational purposes. Rights to take trail rides through the meadows and up Ghost Mountain. Rights to shore up the mine supports so folks could explore, even dig if they wanted to. We could work out a fair price.”
Here was one answer to Holt’s question of what he’d have to do to save his ranch. But would leasing some land cost the integrity of his family’s heritage? “I’ll think on it, Will.”
“That’s all I ask.”
Holt followed Will out of the stable. “I’ll collect Maddy and head home. Thanks for the beer.”
“Sure thing. Maddy’s helping Faith with the kids’ activities. On the way to the corral, I’ll take you to the new stable.” He grinned. “It’ll give me a chance to show off the place.”
As they walked, Will pointed out the signboard announcing the day’s activities. “The trail ride’s only one of our offerings. Fly-fishing’s real popular. There’s more in the summer, but even now we have hiking, archery, riding lessons, roping lessons, and a nightly campfire with yours truly on the guitar. And the Circle-S boasts the best ranch cook in three states. To be successful today a dude ranch has to offer a family vacation. Faith has excellent children’s programs geared to age and ability.”
Holt couldn’t help smiling at the other man’s ebullient enthusiasm. “Mighty impressive. You’re a walking brochure.”
Will laughed and clapped Holt on the back. “Here’s the stable. About half the remuda are out carrying the dudes, but you can get a good idea of my stock.”
> They detoured to the new red-stained building beside the barn. Holt agreed because he’d neglected some questions. They crossed the yard and the dusty ground to the gleaming wooden structure beyond.
From the open doors, it was clear the stable floor was swept clean, and bare new wood gleamed bright as the overhead lights. Dust motes and odors of oats and hay floated in sunbeams slanting through the windowpanes. He entered reluctantly, thinking his envy would only increase after seeing such a dazzling facility.
He was wrong. The new stable was great, but his old barn built by his great-grandfather was fine for the Valley-D. He didn’t want or need a fancy building for twenty or thirty animals. “Damn nice facility.” He meant it. “Perfect for your operation.”
While they checked the occupied stalls, he turned the conversation to the day of Rob’s death. “You get much turnover in employees?”
The other man nodded. “We have our year-round hands and wranglers, but in the summer we hire on short-term hands. Mostly itinerants who don’t want to stick around long anyway.”
“What about in March?” Holt hoisted a shoulder in rueful dismissal. “I expect the sheriff asked you about any strangers working for you about the time Rob was killed.”
“He did—twice.” Before Holt could apologize for bringing it up again, the other rancher held up a staying hand. “But I don’t mind telling you we did have one extra man for a week or so then. Fellow said he had a job in April down in Sonora and needed cash to tide him over. Since I could use an extra hand to finish the stable, I hired him on the spot. Some cowboys resent having to pound nails, but it didn’t seem to bother Riggs. He was a bit older. Driver’s license said thirty-six.”
They stopped in front of a dun-colored horse with a star on its forehead. “Faith needs help mounting up, but she didn’t let the accident stop her from riding. This is her favorite. Daybreak’s as gentle a mare as you’d find.”
“Morgan, is she?” Holt noted the upright ears, the tossing head. “Looks like she expects a treat.”
Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) Page 11
