by Mary Calmes
“Jesus, Stef,” he grumbled, and I felt the truck swerve on the highway. “Are you tryin’ to get us both killed?”
“No, just never mind me, watch where you’re going.”
“It won’t matter if somebody saw us.” He chuckled. “Gettin’ in an accident ain’t the only thing that’ll get us killed out on this road.”
He meant it to be funny, but the thought was a sobering one, and I retreated to my side of the cab. Sitting there with the wind on my face, my brain finally kicked in, and I remembered where I was. This was Texas, and I was in cattle country, and I had actually thought, for a half a second, that living with Rand Holloway on his ranch would be fun and without repercussions. I had forgotten that being gay could get him forced off the road and shot.
“I just didn’t wanna wreck,” he told me, his voice deep and sultry. “I didn’t mean you should take your hands off me. C’mon back.”
“I’m an idiot,” I said without turning to look at him. “What would your neighbors do if they found out about me?”
“I dunno,” he grunted. “I expect some would call me a lot of things behind my back as well as to my face. There might even be a few who come after me or my place or my men.”
“Jesus.”
“I already had some questions ’bout why you was stayin’ with me, and Declan Crawford don’t wanna sell me no more feed.”
“Holy shit,” I breathed out, turning to look at him. “Rand, you—”
He put up his hand. “Here’s the thing about all that, Stef: my ranch ain’t small. A long time ago, I changed things up so that I don’t do all my business in one place. I only buy what I have to for emergencies from anybody in town. Most of what I need gets trucked in from Lubbock.”
“What—what’re you—”
“Listen here, I have a very lucrative hunting business and got me two guides that take people out. That girl I was talkin’ to the other night—the one you was jealous over—”
“I was so not—”
“That girl is gonna start bringin’ people out from Dallas to do some huntin’ on my land. I already got ’em comin’ from Lubbock and Amarillo, and now, with her bringin’ folks from Dallas… I might need me another guide.”
“Rand, you—”
“You should take a look at the website my publicist came up with.”
I squinted at him. “You have a publicist?”
His smile was wicked. “Yessir, Endo Masami, helluva nice guy—works out of Amarillo, but he comes up and sees me once a month or so.”
“Rand—”
“You can hunt deer or quail or dove—though I don’t really get that, but—”
“Rand—”
“And turkey, of course, and geese, and wild boar, and—”
“Rand, what does this have to do with—”
“Some people bring their own dogs, but they can use mine if they like. I don’t let people hunt coyote or bobcat on my land ’cause I figure those critters been hunted enough.”
“I don’t understand what—”
“I told all the fellas that I was fixin’ to ask you to come stay with me, and I told them they was all free to do whatever they felt was right. JC McGraw, he spit in my face and cleared out, but all the others don’t mind none, and Chris even said that I didn’t seem to be my usual asshole self since you been ’round. I take that as a good sign.”
Jesus Christ.
“My ranch is different from a lot of others, Stef. We sell cattle on the Internet, I have the huntin’ business like I told you, and I supply a lot of restaurants all over Texas with their beef. You know as well as anybody that after my father died that me and the ranch both went through a rough spell. What I come to when I decided that the ranch was mine to save was that I had to sell the ranch as a brand and make it marketable and known for quality. It’s only been ten years, but I got that done.”
I knew the ranch was profitable; I just had no idea how profitable. “So you’re saying that what the people in town think or don’t think… you couldn’t give a shit.”
“Yessir.”
“Because what they do or don’t doesn’t impact you.”
“It don’t bother my wallet none, but if they go about spittin’ on you like they did Tom Hutchins the other day… I might be a bit chafed.”
“Shit, is Tom mad at you?”
“Why would Tom be mad at me?”
“Because of me.”
“Tom heard that when you went out to see Mrs. Freeman that you didn’t push her to sell, instead you told her that she had to decide what to do, since she knew what was best for the community and not you.”
I just stared at him.
He arched an eyebrow for me. “That sounds like a man that wants what’s best who ain’t concerned about his own wallet.”
I had no idea what to say.
“You know Tom Hutchins was born on a ranch in Oklahoma that his father threw him off of when he was eighteen.”
“Why?”
“Well, when Tom turned eighteen that was when he married the sweetest little Mexican gal you ever met. She and Tom got three kids, and now he has a house on my land where his boys can grow up. I’m missin’ two hands with Pete and JC gone, but Tom’s got a brother comin’ out in another day to fill one of the spots, and you heard Tyler say that Chase has got a cousin to take the other. Both men, Chase an’ Tom, are thankful for my ranch and the job and the roof I put over their heads. When all you know about is bein’ a cowboy, you need a ranch to work.”
“So Tom and Chase and everyone, they’re all happy to be here with you.”
“I expect so.”
“And they don’t care that you’re sleeping with me?”
“What I do in my bed ain’t their concern, just like what they do in theirs ain’t none of mine. We all got us an understanding.”
“What about your foreman, Mac?”
“Mac’s more worried that you’ll be bored out here with nothin’ and no one to see. He don’t like you ’cause you’re from the city, he don’t give a damn who fucks you.”
“That was lovely.”
He shrugged. “Had to be said.”
“So when were you going to tell me all this?”
“I just did.”
“Rand—”
“This is it, ain’t it?” he asked, slowing the truck, taking a turn down the long dirt road that led up to the house. He made a noise like a derisive sort of half grunt, half click in the back of his throat.
“What?”
“Her cows look lean. This here’s the growing season from April to October, and my cows are twice as big already as hers.”
I had no idea; I just climbed down out of the truck and headed toward the house.
“I’ll wait here,” he called after me. “I don’t wanna make her feel bad since you said she’s decided to sell.”
The screen door was unlocked, so I went inside. It took me several long minutes to realize what I was looking at. Mrs. Grace Freeman was lying faceup in a puddle of blood. Her sightless eyes were trained on the ceiling, her body frail and broken. In death, she looked small, whereas in life, her vitality had filled the air around her. I could barely breathe, and I had no idea what to do. But I knew who would.
“Rand!” I yelled loudly. “Rand!”
“Stef!” he called back at the same time as the sound of the truck door slamming shut.
It was too much. I bolted for the door, and there was a popping sound behind me and shattering glass. There was a yell as I dove for the screen door. It collapsed under my weight, and I scrambled up, feet sliding around for a few seconds before I regained my balance and shot off the porch.
My heartbeat was like a freight train in my ears, a roar of sound as I ran toward the safety of the pickup truck. Rand was almost to me, running to reach me, but I was terrified that whoever had just shot at me would hit him. I didn’t want him to get hurt. He could not get hurt.
I was aware of a motor revving behind me. Rand yelled m
y name, his hands gesturing me out of the way. I leaped sideways as the car flew by me, fishtailing in the dirt before barreling down the road toward the highway. I saw the cloud of dust as I got to my feet. Rand was there seconds later, grabbing me tight, crushing me to him as I trembled in his embrace. Seconds later, I realized that I was not the only one shaking. Rand was too.
“What the fuck was that?” he yelled, shoving me out to arm’s length to look me over. “Jesus Christ, Stef!”
“She’s dead,” I told him, looking up into his eyes. “Mrs. Freeman’s dead.”
“And from the looks of things, you were gonna be next.”
Someone had just tried to kill me.
“What the hell is going on?”
His guess was as good as mine.
IT WAS the way Rand was touching me. If he could have kept from squeezing the back of my neck, brushing the hair out of my face, or sliding his hand over my thigh, the deputies would not have given me a second look. But the second Rand started showing everyone that I belonged to him, their attitudes changed. There were whispers and snickering, smirking glances, and normally I would not have cared at all, but this was where Rand lived. The deputies, the sheriff, they were responsible for his safety, so I didn’t simply tell them all to go to hell.
I had been helpful; I had answered every question I was asked for three solid hours. I explained what I was doing there. I told the sheriff about the deal with Armor South, and it came down to basically two choices. Either Grace Freeman was killed because she was going to sell or because she wasn’t. I told Sheriff Colter that she told me she was selling.
“Then I’m confused,” he told me. “All her neighbors wanted her to sell. They all wanted the payout from the developer.”
“Maybe somebody wanted her to keep the land so they didn’t have to sell. Maybe someone got cold feet after but didn’t want to be the one spoiling the deal for everyone else.”
“That’s possible.” The sheriff looked at me. “I can’t think why someone on the developer’s side would want her dead, especially if, like you said, Mr. Joss, you had told ’em that she was going to sell.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t make any sense.”
“So it’s gotta be someone here,” he said to both Rand and me. “Have you had anybody following you around, Mr. Joss, or threatening you?”
“No.”
“Yes,” Rand chimed in. “The other day while he was running, someone nearly ran him off the road.”
“That was you?” Sheriff Colter pointed at me before turning to look at Rand. “I hauled your stupid-ass cousin in here the other night on a DUI—and by the way, Rand, his license is gone, so if I see him behind the wheel, he’s goin’ to jail.”
“Why’re you tellin’ me?”
“’Cause you’re the head of your annoying family, and I told you months ago to put that boy to work on your ranch.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“Don’t I know it!” Sheriff Colter raised his voice, looking back at me. “I threw Bran in a cell to let him sleep off his drunk, and he starts runnin’ his mouth about savin’ some boy from bein’ hit by a truck. He says that if he hadn’t’a blown his horn that you would be lyin’ dead at the bottom of Hatter’s Gulch—is that right, Mr. Joss?”
“He was drunk,” I told the older man. “I think he nearly hit me.”
“No, sir.” The sheriff shook his head. “I don’t think so. There was another truck, ’cause I been out there and saw the two different sets of tracks myself. I just didn’t know who you were, and Bran couldn’t rightly remember.”
Rand let out of huff of breath.
“He’s your cousin—why wasn’t he invited to Char’s wedding?”
“Because he tried to cripple the groom,” Rand told him. “So what the hell are you gonna do, Ed?”
“I don’t think I like your tone, Rand. I—”
“I don’t give a good goddamn what you like. I wanna know what the fuck you’re gonna do about finding the person who’s trying to kill Stef.”
“Well, for starters, Mr. Joss,” he snarled, turning back to me, “until further notice, you best not go back home to Chicago. We have us an open murder investigation that you are smack-dab in the middle of, and I cannot think of a safer place for you than out there on that ranch with Rand Holloway and the criminals he calls ranch hands.”
“What the hell are you talkin’ about?” Rand yelled at him.
“What the hell am I talkin’ about? You got some of the hardest men I have ever met in my life working with you out on that ranch of yours, Rand Holloway. With it still growin’, soon it’ll be like you got your own army.”
“We’re a family.”
“JC McGraw told it different in town a few days back.”
“JC McGraw is a homophobic piece of shit.”
“That’s what I heard from Kate Tunston, who I guess is your new feed supplier, seein’ as Declan Crawford is refusing to do any more business with you.”
“What does that have to do with—”
“Nothin’, I just wanted you to know that what you do out on your ranch is your own damn business.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“And I know that you can protect Mr. Joss better’n I can.”
“I have no doubt.”
“With all that said: if he sets foot out of the state, I will throw the both of you in jail for obstruction.” He turned to look at me. “Am I makin’ myself clear, Mr. Joss?”
“Yessir, Sheriff Colter.”
He smiled widely, gesturing at me. “He’s a helluva lot more respectful than you, Rand Holloway.”
“Give it time.” Rand smirked at him. “He’ll hate you too.”
I sighed deeply. “Sheriff, I have a life to go home to.”
“This here is your life now, Mr. Joss.”
Rand could not have looked more pleased.
I CALLED Knox on my way back to the ranch. When he didn’t pick up, I tried to e-mail him from the computer in Rand’s den.
“This is so weird,” I told the man hovering over me. “I mean, he’s never gone, and he always answers my e-mails right away because he’s always online. He can answer from his phone if he wants.”
“Which, to me, is givin’ up way too much of your time,” Rand assured me, flopping down into the leather chair in front of his desk, across from me.
“Crap, I have a shitload of things to do at work.”
“Well, I suggest you call someone and get to it.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“You have your laptop, you can use my fax machine and my Internet, and you can even use my phone if you need to. I don’t see what you can’t do from right here.”
“Rand, I don’t actually do my work in a vacuum. I go outside and meet people and look at property and—”
“Not this week, you don’t,” he said. “Besides, it’s Sunday, and we both know”—he stopped talking to yawn—“that you don’t normally work on Sunday.”
“You work on Sunday.”
“Not usually. I had to this morning because of all the wedding crap that ate into my time, but Sunday’s my normal sittin’ around and do nothin’ day.”
I squinted at him.
“What?”
“There’s no way you ever just do nothing.”
“Oh no? You don’t believe me?”
“No, I don’t believe you.”
“Well, how ’bout you fix us somethin’ to eat, and I’ll run on into town and pick us up some movies, and we’ll waste the day.”
“You’re on. I can’t wait to see what kinda movies you pick.”
“Well, I like action movies,” he said, like that was a surprise. “And you like, what… musicals?”
I flipped him off.
“Chick flicks?”
“I will seriously end you,” I said, answering the e-mails that were flooding my inbox.
I thought he had left, but he suddenly ran a hand through my hair. Looking up,
I received a kiss on my forehead.
“Stay inside the house, you understand?”
“Yessir.” I couldn’t control my grin. “Nice that you’re worried about me.”
“I almost lost you today,” he said, his hand stroking my hair. “And any second now, this nice frosty composure you got goin’ on is gonna crack wide open and you’re gonna be a basket case. Just wait until I get back to freak out so I can hold you, all right?”
The image of Mrs. Freeman lying in her own blood came back to me, but I pushed it aside, thinking of work instead. “I never lose it.”
“Okay,” he agreed, bending closer to me. “Now gimme a kiss.”
I turned and kissed him, and he licked his lips as he straightened up.
“Anybody ever tell you that you taste like peaches?”
“I do not,” I grumbled, shoving him away from me.
“Yeah, ya do,” he said, the deep voice rumbling in his chest as he crossed the room away from me. “And I love peaches—peaches are my favorite.”
“I want ice cream too,” I called after him.
“I eat a lot of peaches.”
“Give it a rest!”
“Yessir,” he yelled back from the stairs.
Peaches. What the hell was that about?
I worked for an hour, e-mailing everyone I knew at the company to try to find someone to tell me where Knox was. It was a really bad time for my boss to be MIA.
When I got bored, I strolled downstairs and out the screen door to the porch. I was surprised to find two men there, one with a shotgun across his lap.
“Hi,” I greeted them, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt.
The first man touched the brim of his cowboy hat before returning his gaze to the road leading up to the house. The other man smiled wide and walked over to me, his hand out.
“Hey there.” His grin was effortless and infectious, and I found myself having to return it. “I’m Dustin, Dusty, and you must be Stefan Joss.”
I took the offered hand. “I am. Who’s your friend?”
“That there’s Everett.”
I nodded. “What is it that you guys are doing here, Dustin?”
