Courting the Enemy

by Sherryl Woods

  “Why aren’t you at the ranch with Karen?” she demanded. Evidently she was unaware of the fact that he’d been gone for days now. She regarded him with an accusing look. “When she refused to stay with Cole and me, you promised to keep an eye on her.”

  “Hank and Dooley have everything out there under control,” he assured her. “I checked with them less than twenty minutes ago.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she said direly. “Because if anything happens to her, Grady Blackhawk, you’ll have all of us to answer to.”

  Grady took the threat seriously, but it was no match for the guilt he would live with for the rest of his life if something went wrong because of his own stupid pride. He sighed. It was time to face the music.

  “Make that meat loaf to go,” he said, sliding back out of the booth.

  “I hope it wasn’t something I said,” Cassie told him with total insincerity.

  He frowned at her. “You know damn well it was. In fact, double the order. I might as well take a peace offering with me.”

  She grinned. “Take the roast chicken instead. It’s her favorite.”

  “Whatever you say.”

  He packed the two dinners into the truck and headed toward Karen’s, anticipation mounting with each mile he covered. He envisioned a little fussing and feuding when she first spotted him, but he ought to be able to get around that with an abject apology. Hell, he’d even help her draw up the papers to sell the ranch to Lauren, if that was what she really wanted.

  And once Karen had accepted the sincerity of his apology, they could make up the way men and women had been getting back on track for years-in bed. The prospect had him stepping down just a little harder on the accelerator.

  Grady was less than a mile away from the ranch when he thought he smelled smoke. As he rounded the last curve in the road, he spotted an orange glow on the horizon that had nothing to do with the setting sun. Panic crawled up his throat and made it impossible to swallow.

  Sweet heaven, he thought, just as a car made a squealing turn out of the driveway onto the highway, nearly sideswiping the truck, before speeding past him in a blur. Shock had him hitting his brakes and staring, first in one direction, then the other.

  There was no question about it, the ranch was on fire.

  And the person most likely responsible had just come within inches of running him off the road.

  Karen had just gotten out of the shower and pulled on her old flannel pajamas when she thought she smelled smoke. No sooner had the thought registered than the smoke detectors downstairs went off in a simultaneous blast of sound.

  She jammed her feet into a pair of shoes, grabbed her robe and raced for the stairs. Thick gray smoke was already swirling at the foot of the steps.

  “Think,” she ordered herself. “Take just a second and think.”

  There was a rope ladder by the bedroom window. She could get out that way. It was safer than risking running straight into the fire the second she reached the first floor. And judging from the number of alarms blaring at once, the fire was already too widespread for her to be able to put it out herself, assuming she could even get to the fire extinguisher she kept in the kitchen.

  Turning back to the bedroom, she paused long enough to grab the cordless phone and dial nine-one-one.

  “It’s already bad,” she told the emergency operator. “I can’t see the flames, but the smoke is all through the downstairs.”

  “Can you get out?” Birdie Cox asked, her manner calm and reassuring, even as she was barking directions to the ranch into a speaker that would rouse all the volunteer firefighters in the area. “Are you on a portable phone, hon?”

  “Yes and I’m going out the bedroom window,” Karen said. “I have a rope ladder. I’ll be fine.”

  “Look below,” Birdie advised. “Make sure there are no flames coming out of the windows downstairs. Now you leave this line open, tuck the phone in your pocket and go. I want you to tell me when you’re safely on the ground, you hear me?”

  “You’ll be the first to know,” Karen promised as she dropped the ladder out the window after first looking to make sure it was safe. Smoke was billowing out, but there were no flames.

  Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to climb through the window and onto the ladder. It wasn’t a long drop, but she didn’t look down again until she felt the ground under her feet. Then she stepped back and took a good, long look at the house, trying to assess where the worst of the fire was located.

  “Birdie, I’m outside and I’m okay,” she reported. “It looks to me like the worst of this is in the front of the house.”

  “I’ve got two fire engines and a dozen men on the way. Don’t try to be a heroine. Sit tight and let them handle this.”

  Even as Birdie spoke, Karen could hear the distant wail of a siren and something else-the frantic shouting of her name.

  “Dammit, Karen, where are you?”

  Dear God, it sounded as if it was coming from inside the house, and there was no mistaking the fact that it was Grady. She raced toward the front door, screaming as she ran.

  “Grady, I’m outside. Grady!”

  She was halfway up the front steps when she spotted him silhouetted in the thick smoke. He turned slowly, then bent over, coughing. Frantic, she almost ran toward him, but he began moving again, dodging flames and falling debris.

  He was still coughing when he reached her, and there were streaks of ash on his face and holes made by burning cinders on his clothes, but she’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life. She threw herself into his arms. They tightened around her at once, and she could feel a shudder course through him.

  “Thank God,” he murmured. “I saw the flames just as I turned in.” He held her away from him. “Are you okay? Were you inside? What happened?”

  The rush of adrenaline that had kept her on her feet suddenly evaporated, and her knees went weak. She sagged against him.

  “Oh, darlin’,” he whispered, holding her. “It’s okay.”

  Feeling safe at last, she finally dared to look at the house, where flames were roaring through the roof even as volunteer firefighters began swarming everywhere. Tears stung her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. All of her memories were in that house and they were being completely destroyed in that terrible inferno. It was as if her life were going up in flames. How could anything ever be okay again?

  The streams of water being directed at the house merely sizzled and steamed in the heat, doing little to dampen the blaze.

  When she moaned at the sight, Grady scooped Karen up and carried her to his truck, tucked her inside, then turned on the heater. He found a blanket in back to wrap her in, then climbed in behind the wheel.

  His fingers slid into her hair, and he caressed her cheek with the pad of his thumb. “Talk to me, Karen. Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you? Did you get burned?”

  “No,” she whispered, her voice choked. “What happened? How did this happen?”

  Grady’s expression turned grim. “Maybe we ought to wait and see what the firemen have to say about that. And Michael should be here soon. I called him.”

  She regarded him suspiciously. “Why did you call the sheriff? You think this was deliberately set, don’t you?” she said, without waiting for his reply.

  “Don’t you?” he asked mildly. “Or did you leave the stove on? Or maybe forget to put the screen in front of the fireplace? Or was there a short in some wiring?”

  She frowned at his mocking tone. “It could have been any of those things,” she said, not ready to believe the alternative-that someone had deliberately burned down her home.

  “Really?” he asked with blatant skepticism.

  “Okay, no, I hadn’t turned the stove on all evening. And there was no fire in the fireplace. But it could have been the wiring,” she insisted stubbornly. “It’s old.”

  “Whatever,” he said. “Where are Hank and Dooley?”

  “I haven’t seen them since before supper t
ime,” she said. “I told them to take the night off.”

  He stared at her incredulously. “Why did you do that?”

  “Because they’d been watching me nonstop for days now. They needed a break.”

  “Sit here,” Grady ordered, looking more furious than she’d ever seen him.

  She was shivering too badly not to comply. Even with the heater blasting and a blanket wrapped around her, she was cold. An aftereffect of the shock, she supposed.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check the bunkhouse, then to take a look around. Maybe they’ve pitched in to help the firefighters.”

  She nodded and watched him go. Only as he walked away did she wonder at the coincidence of Grady arriving for the first time in days just as a fire destroyed the ranch that stood between them.

  Grady was furious enough to knock some heads together. Dooley should have known better than to leave. Hadn’t they talked about this a dozen times a day? Karen was never to be left alone, not even if she insisted.

  When he reached the bunkhouse, there was no sign of either man. Of course, if they’d been on the property in the first place they would have heard the sirens, if not smelled the smoke, and run to help. Which meant they’d left, probably for a night on the town.

  On his way back to the truck, he kept an eye out for either of the hands, but he was within sight of Karen when he spotted the two men climbing from Hank’s pickup, horror evident in their expressions as they stared at the charred, smoldering ruins of Karen’s home.

  “What the hell happened?” Dooley asked when he spotted Grady.

  “That’s what I intended to ask you. Why were the two of you away from here tonight?”

  “The boss insisted,” Hank said defensively.

  “I told you we shouldn’t listen,” Dooley grumbled. “We should have stayed right here, just the way Grady told us to.”

  “Where’d you go?” Grady asked.

  “Into town.”

  “ Winding River?”

  “No, the other direction, over to Little Creek. There’s a bar over there with country music on the juke box and some pretty waitresses. It’s usually packed with hands from all over,” Hank said. “We didn’t stay long. We had supper and came straight back, because Dooley here was nagging me like an old woman.” Hank’s gaze strayed back to the fire. “Guess he was right to be worried.”

  Grady paused, thinking about that. “See anyone you recognized?”

  “The place was packed. It’s Saturday night, payday for most of the men around here,” Dooley said.

  “Think,” Grady said. “Was there anybody in there you knew?”

  For a long time neither man responded. Then Dooley glanced at Hank. “Didn’t I see you talking to Joe Keeley?”

  “Who’s that?” Grady asked.

  “He works for the Oldhams,” Hank said.

  So, Grady thought, the Oldhams could have known that Karen was here at the ranch unprotected. One glance at Dooley and he saw that the old man had reached the same conclusion.

  “You thinking what I’m thinking?” Dooley asked.

  “We should tell the sheriff and let him deal with this,” Grady said, though he was itching to take on the task himself. The image of Karen’s tear-filled eyes and heartbroken expression was the deciding factor.

  “Let’s go,” he said grimly. He faced Hank. “Karen’s in my truck. You go over there and sit with her. This time I don’t care if she tries to bribe you with a million bucks, you don’t let her out of your sight until we’re back. Is that clear?”

  Hank nodded. “I’m sorry about what happened,” he said, casting a devastated look toward the house. “It’s been so peaceful around here lately, I thought it would be okay.”

  “I know,” Grady said.

  “If she asks where you’ve gone, what do I tell her?” Hank asked.

  Grady smiled ruefully. “I suppose telling her not to worry her pretty little head about it is a bad idea.”

  “Real bad,” Dooley concurred. “At least if you expect her to be talking to you again.”

  Grady nodded. “Then tell her we’ve gone to visit a neighbor and that we hope to come back with some answers about what happened tonight.”

  “That’s going to bring her running right after us,” Dooley pointed out.

  “Not if Hank does his job,” Grady said grimly.

  “Yeah, well, sometimes the boss has a way of sneaking around the best intentions,” Dooley said.

  Grady exchanged a look with Hank. Satisfied, he said, “Not this time.”

  He was counting on her staying put, just where he’d left her. Later they could argue about how macho and chauvinistic his behavior was. In fact, he’d be happy to discuss it with her for hours on end, once they were both safely tucked in his bed.

  “He went where?” Karen’s shout echoed in the cab of Grady’s truck. It had gotten too hot some time ago, so she’d turned off the engine. The temperature had climbed another ten degrees just since Hank had made his announcement about Grady taking off to do a little informal investigating.

  Hank winced under her accusing scowl. “To see a neighbor.”

  “Without discussing it with me,” she muttered, mostly to herself.

  “He was in kind of a hurry,” Hank said, defending Grady’s sneaky departure. “Dooley’s with him. He’ll be okay.”

  “I’m not worried about his safety. In fact, I’m considering strangling him myself. Didn’t he think for one single second that I might have a right to be in on this little visit?”

  “Actually that did come up,” Hank said. “He thought you’d be better off here.”

  Fury had her seeing red. “Oh, he did, did he?”

  “I think he knew you might not like that,” Hank said, clearly trying to help by pointing out Grady’s deep understanding of her psyche.

  “But he didn’t stop for one minute to reconsider, did he?” she snapped.

  “No, ma’am.”

  “Okay, then,” she murmured. She would just have to take matters into her own hands. “Hank, start the truck.”

  “Ma’am?” He looked as if he’d rather climb on the back of a horse straight out of the wild.

  “Which part of ‘start the truck’ did you not understand?” She reached for the key and gave it a twist. The truck sputtered, but didn’t start. “Get the picture?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I think it’s a really bad idea.”

  She frowned at him. “Why is that?”

  “Because Grady’s counting on you staying right here.”

  “I’m sure he’ll learn to live with his mistake,” she snapped. “Start the car, Hank, or get out of my way.”

  With painfully obvious reluctance, Hank started the truck, then put it in gear. “Where are we going?”

  She frowned at the question. Hank had been very careful not to indicate which neighbor Grady suspected of involvement in the fire. She was reasonably certain he didn’t intend to share that piece of information now, which explained the deliberately vague expression on his face.

  “If you don’t take me wherever those two men have gone, I swear to you I will not only fire you, but I will destroy any chance of your getting a job on any other ranch in Wyoming. Hell, I’ll make sure you don’t work anywhere in the whole damned country.”

  Hank regarded her with an injured look. “I’m just trying to do my job, ma’am, the way Grady told me to.”

  “You don’t work for Grady,” she reminded him, clinging to her patience by a thread.

  “Maybe not, but the last time I ignored one of his orders, look what happened.” He stared miserably toward the smoldering remains of the house.

  Karen sighed. “Turn off the engine.”

  Hank nodded, looking relieved. “Good decision, ma’am.” His expression brightened. “And just in the nick of time, too. Here comes the sheriff.”

  Karen glanced outside and saw Michael approaching the truck, his step weary.

  “You okay?” he ask
ed, when she stepped outside to greet him, still swaddled in the blanket.

  “I’ve been better,” she said honestly. She nodded toward the house. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Arson,” he said succinctly. “Not much doubt about it. There was evidence of gasoline about thirty yards from the living room window, along with some scraps of rags. Whoever did this probably tossed a firebomb into the house. I’m surprised you didn’t hear glass breaking.”

  “I was taking a shower when it started.”

  “Lucky for you you were upstairs. It gave you time to get out before the fire spread. Looks as if it moved pretty quick through the downstairs.” He glanced into the truck and spotted Hank. It seemed to take him by surprise. “I thought Grady was with you.”

  “He was here until a little while ago.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “He and Dooley are checking into something,” she said evasively.

  “You sure about that?”

  “Of course,” she said, ignoring that brief flicker of doubt she’d felt earlier. This was no time to be discussing coincidences with the sheriff.

  “You don’t think maybe he got nervous watching me poke around out here?” Michael asked.

  “He’s the one who called you,” she reminded him.

  Michael nodded, though he didn’t look completely satisfied. “So he did. Where did he go to do this checking?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said truthfully.

  “Well, I’m going over to have another word with the fire chief.” His somber gaze locked with hers. “I’d suggest you track down your friend and get him back here, because if I have to go hunting for him, he’s going to pop right back to the top of my list of suspects.”

  She watched as Michael walked away, then turned back to Hank. “You heard?”

  He nodded.

  “We have to warn him, Hank.”

  The young hand sighed heavily and started the truck. “Let’s go.”

  Karen climbed back in and patted his knee. “Don’t worry. You’re doing the right thing.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. It’ll be so much better if I wring his neck, instead of waiting for the sheriff to do it.”