The Cowboy Target

by Terri Reed

  In a low crouch, they ran along the ditch away from the truck, letting the darkness swallow them. They had made it about four yards when the snowmobile came into view. Jackie pulled Wyatt down to a prone position in the ditch. The lone gunman wore all white, including a face mask. He held a big rifle in his hands.

  And there was no doubt in Wyatt’s mind they’d be dead if Jackie hadn’t thought quickly and hustled them away from the truck.

  Wyatt heard the man swear, and then he quickly swung his gaze around.

  Instinctively, Wyatt lowered his head to the ground, afraid the man would see the whites of his eyes.

  The sound of sirens fast approaching sent the gun-toting man on the snowmobile zooming back the way he’d come.

  Wyatt breathed a sigh of relief just as Jackie moaned and pushed herself to a seated position. She’d saved his life; now it was his turn to help her. He slid his arm around her waist. She started in surprise and then leaned into him as they made their way back to the truck.

  Headlights and flashing reds and blues cut through the night and illuminated the back end of the black SUV sticking up in the air.

  The sheriff’s car skidded to a halt. Another sheriff’s department vehicle and an ambulance ground to a stop next to the sheriff’s car.

  Landers jumped out of his vehicle. “Wyatt!”

  “Here,” Wyatt answered, surprised by how glad he was to see his stepfather. It wasn’t Landers per se, Wyatt rationalized—he’d feel the same about anyone who’d arrived right about now.

  Landers rushed to meet them. A fierce frown wrinkled his brow. “Either of you hit?”

  “No. A little banged up from the crash,” Wyatt said.

  “A guy on a snowmobile went that way,” Jackie said, gesturing with her uninjured arm. “He took position about three hundred yards out in the pasture. You should check for shell casings.”

  Landers nodded and helped her out of the ditch. “I’ll put my deputies on it, but let’s concentrate on getting you two to the hospital.”

  Two paramedics wearing matching navy slacks and thick jackets rushed up. Wyatt relinquished Jackie to the care of the female EMT. She led Jackie over to the open bay of the ambulance where she cleaned her gash, while the other paramedic shone a penlight in Wyatt’s eyes.

  He waved him off. “I’m fine, Jake.”

  “You’ve got a nasty-looking bruise on your forehead, and I’d imagine your ribs took a hard blow from the air bag,” Jake replied.

  “It’s not that bad,” Wyatt ground out. He’d suffered broken ribs before. This pain wasn’t as bad as then.

  “Let me do my job, Wyatt.”

  Forcing himself to submit to Jake’s ministration, Wyatt watched Landers giving orders to two deputies. The two men took off toward where Jackie had said the shooter had been positioned. Their flashlights bobbed in the dark, marking their progress.

  Landers approached and stopped near Wyatt. “Tell me what happened.”

  “The tire blew, and we went into the ditch. Next thing I know we’re taking fire,” Wyatt said.

  Without comment, Landers went to the truck to inspect the tire.

  Wyatt sucked in a breath when Jake pressed his hand against Wyatt’s side.

  “I don’t think you’ve broken any ribs,” Jake said. “But to be on the safe side, I want you to go to the hospital and have an X-ray taken.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary,” Wyatt replied. “I need to get home.” He worried for his daughter’s safety. Would whoever had shot at him try to hurt him through Gabby?

  “You took a bad thump on the head, Wyatt. You could have internal bleeding, or at the least a concussion. You need to go to the hospital.”

  “Wyatt, go with Ms. Blain to the hospital,” Landers said as he returned. “If not for your sake, then for hers.”

  Following the sheriff’s gaze, Wyatt looked at Jackie. She had a white bandage wrapped around her head, and her left arm was in a sling. Seeing her injured, he felt a knot of anxiety and anger in his chest. That she was hurt because of him ripped him up inside.

  The last thing he ever wanted was to hurt another woman.

  Jackie in particular. She’d been kind to him and Gabby. She didn’t deserve to be knee-deep in this mess. As soon as possible, he was going to send her on her way. Better for her sake to leave before anything else happened to her.

  She climbed into the back of the ambulance and met his gaze. Her eyebrow arched, and she patted the seat next to her on the gurney.

  The need to be with her rose sharply, catching him off guard. He was powerless to refuse.

  “I’ll go. Let me check in with Carl first,” Wyatt said, pressing the speed-dial number for Carl’s cell. He had to know that Gabby was safe.

  When Carl answered, he was horrified to hear what had happened and assured Wyatt that all was well at the ranch. For now, Wyatt thought, but for how long?

  “Sheriff, can you have a deputy drive out and keep watch over Gabby and the Kirks?”

  “Done,” Landers replied.

  Satisfied he didn’t have to worry about Gabby, he ambled over to the ambulance and climbed in next to Jackie.

  “I hate hospitals,” she whispered and folded her hand around his.

  Cradling her hand felt natural, right. Her bones were delicate and her skin soft. Absently, his thumb stroked hers. He realized what he was doing and quickly stopped.

  “Have ever since I was a kid. I went to visit my grandfather before he died from emphysema.” She shuddered. “The smells and sounds gave me nightmares.”

  “I’ll be with you,” he said, touched by her vulnerability. His chest expanded with tenderness usually reserved for his daughter, only this was different. There was nothing paternal about the affection and attraction zinging through his blood, wrapping around his heart.

  “Whew,” she said and leaned her head against his shoulder. Every nerve ending in his body jumped as though he’d been zapped by a live wire. “Whatever they gave me is working.”

  His stomach muscles clenched. He nearly groaned aloud with disgust at himself. Get a grip, Monroe. She has drugs in her system. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be cuddling so close. Jackie was nothing if not professional. And he better keep himself in check. She needed him to be strong and in control.

  But he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be needed by her. Even if it was only to get her through a visit to the hospital.

  He’d have to make sure he didn’t get too used to the good feelings, because once she was back to her normal, adorable and independent self, she wouldn’t need him. No matter how much a tiny part of him wished she would.

  EIGHT

  As she lay in the E.R. on an exam table behind a drawn curtain, Jackie shook her head, trying to dispel the fuzzy-headedness clouding her mind. The doctor had just left her with instructions to rest. As if she could do that when she didn’t know where Wyatt was. She should be protecting him, making sure the bad guys out to get him weren’t closing in. She may not have started this journey as his bodyguard, but now it was clear he needed one. Purpose slid into place.

  She pushed herself to a sitting position.

  Oh, not a good idea. Her head pounded. She winced and felt the biting sting of the stitches in her forehead. The doctor had said the sutures were small and wouldn’t leave a scar.

  That was good, she guessed. Not that she cared. Worrying about her looks wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Her capabilities as a bodyguard weren’t dependent on a pretty face. In fact, her looks worked against her at times. People seemed hard-pressed to take her seriously. But then again, being underestimated tended to work in her favor in some situations.

  Swinging her feet off the bed, she stood and steadied herself with her uninjured hand. Her left arm was in a sling, held tightly against he
r body. When the air bag had deployed, the force rammed her humerus bone into her shoulder socket, causing traumatic impingement. Thankfully nothing was broken, though it would be a matter of time to see how she healed. The doc had said if persistent pain occurred, then it could mean she had a torn tendon, which could require surgery.

  She did not want surgery. It was bad enough having a sore shoulder. It would make protecting Wyatt that much harder, but she’d manage. Please, Lord, heal my shoulder quickly.

  The curtain parted, sending a jolt to her heart.

  Wyatt and Sheriff Landers crowded in.

  Glad to see Wyatt up and around and safe, she asked, “What did the doc say about your ribs?”

  “Bruised. Not nearly as bad as when I took one of Alexander’s hoofs in the side,” Wyatt answered with a wry grin.

  Her gaze snagged on the discoloration on his forehead. “And your head?”

  “Hard.”

  “Doc says he’s good to go home,” Landers interjected.

  She swayed. Wyatt rushed to grip her by her good elbow. “The doctor said you should be resting.”

  “I was coming to find you,” she said, allowing him to help her back onto the exam table. Turning her attention to the sheriff, she asked, “What have you found out?”

  Landers held up an evidence bag. The glare of the hospital exam room’s overhead lights glinted off the brass shell casings inside the clear plastic. “We found six casings. I’ll have our forensics expert identify the make and dust for prints.”

  Jackie squinted and studied the shell casings. “They’re .308 rounds.”

  Landers nodded. “Used by hunters.”

  “And marksmen,” she stated grimly. “Whoever was shooting at us wasn’t some weekend warrior out hunting snipe.”

  “The tire didn’t blow on its own,” Landers said. “We found a slug embedded in the rubber.”

  Jackie met Wyatt’s stunned gaze. “This has gone beyond trying to frame you for murder. Now we know you’re being targeted, cowboy. Can you think of a reason why someone wants you dead?”

  Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “No. I mean, I’ve made a lot of people angry by not signing away the mineral rights to my property, but I can’t imagine someone would resort to murder over it.”

  Jackie scoffed. “You’d be surprised what people will do when it comes to money.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “I guess.”

  “Who benefits if you die?” Jackie pressed. “Who’s the beneficiary to your estate?”

  Wyatt’s gaze transferred to his stepfather. “My mother and Gabby.”

  Sheriff Landers’s eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t know that. Gabby inheriting the ranch stands to reason. But does your mother know?”

  “No. I had my will changed after Dina died.”

  “Was Dina the sole beneficiary before her death?” Landers asked.

  “She was until Gabby was born. Then I added Gabby.”

  Jackie had to wonder if whoever was targeting Wyatt thought that with him out of the way they could gain control of the estate once Gabby inherited the ranch. “Do you have guardians in place in case something happens to you?”

  Wyatt’s gaze bore into her. “Your aunt and uncle.”

  Well, that shot one theory out the window. Her aunt and uncle wouldn’t hurt Wyatt or Gabby.

  The sound of an old-fashioned phone ringing came from the sheriff’s pocket. “Excuse me,” he said and stepped out of the curtain to answer.

  Wyatt’s own cell phone chirped. He looked at the phone and answered. “Carl? What’s wrong?”

  Fear flashed in Wyatt’s dark eyes. Jackie sucked in a tense breath as she waited. Her heart sped up.

  “I’ll be right there,” Wyatt said tersely and hung up. “The ranch—”

  Landers rushed back in. “Wyatt, the ranch is on fire.”

  * * *

  Red-and-orange flames licked the walls of the feed shed, consuming the wooden structure and grains inside. The glow illuminated the night so brightly that Wyatt could see it when they were still a mile out. Shadows danced over the fire truck and firemen working to douse the blaze. Stomach tied in a knot, Wyatt didn’t give a fig about the shed; his only concern was for the people he loved—Gabby and the Kirks and the brave men and women who’d rushed to their aid. He sent a plea of safety heavenward and was thankful to see the three people dearest to him huddled near the untouched porch of the house.

  As soon as the sheriff’s car rolled to a halt, Wyatt jumped out the passenger door and ran to his daughter.

  “Daddy!” Gabby launched herself from Carl’s hold to Wyatt’s arms.

  His chest tightened as he hugged her close, breathing in the scent of her baby shampoo. Tears of relief burned the back of his eyes. Over her head, he asked Carl, “What happened?”

  “Don’t rightly know,” Carl replied, his weathered face pale in the glow from the fire. “We heard this bang and then a whoosh. Next thing I know the shed’s engulfed in flames.”

  “Jackie!” Penny exclaimed and ran down the stairs to meet Jackie as she climbed from the sheriff’s vehicle.

  Wyatt met Jackie’s gaze. By tacit agreement they had kept the details to themselves. No sense in upsetting the others right now with talk of a sniper on a snowmobile.

  Wyatt’s heart pitched. Jackie looked battered and beautiful. A white bandage covered the stitched gash on her forehead, and her left arm hugged her body in a navy sling. Her loose blond curls framed her face and spilled down her back. Her blue eyes reflected the gold of the fire. His heart twisted. They’d come close to dying tonight.

  Now someone had set fire to the feed shed. Whatever was going on had escalated. Someone not only wanted Wyatt dead, but they also wanted to damage the ranch. He stroked his daughter’s hair and took in the smoldering mess on his land. Thankfully, the house hadn’t been set on fire.

  A shiver of dread worked its way through him. No telling what the person might do next time. He hugged Gabby tightly. He would have to make sure there wasn’t a next time.

  Landers approached. “The fire chief says they’ve got the blaze under control. Once it’s completely out, they’ll be able to determine the cause.”

  “I’m glad the fire didn’t jump to the stables,” Carl stated grimly. “Just to be safe, I moved the horses to the corral.”

  The thought of the animals suffering lodged fear the size of a fist in his chest. “Good thinking.”

  The noise of the shed collapsing drew their attention. The structure folded in on itself, and the flames lessened as the fire hoses soaked the smoldering wood. Soon only smoke rising in wisps from the charred remains was visible through the glare of the fire-truck headlights.

  The fire chief walked over. He was a big man with a bald head, shiny with sweat and streaked with soot. “In the morning we’ll do our inspection. But as hot as this fire burned, I’d say definitely arson. The back of the shed burned hotter and faster, suggesting the point of origin. Most likely an accelerant was used.”

  No surprise there. But why? What did anyone gain from burning down the feed shed? What did anyone gain by shooting at him and Jackie?

  After the fire trucks and Landers left, Wyatt took Gabby inside and put her to bed. Jackie went with her aunt and uncle to their dwelling. They agreed to meet up in the morning to hear the official cause of the fire.

  “Daddy, stay with me. I’m scared,” Gabby said as he tucked the pink comforter around her small body. Her green eyes appeared watery with unshed tears in the warm glow of the night-light plugged into the wall at her bedside.

  Hating to see her distress, he lay down beside her on top of the blankets, mindful that his clothes were dirty. But washing the comforter was a small price to pay to ease his daughter’s mind. “I’m here, sweetie. I’m not going to let anythin
g happen to you.”

  Saying the words aloud made his stomach churn. How could he protect his family from a threat he didn’t understand?

  She sighed and turned on her side, hugging a stuffed rabbit. “I love you, Daddy.”

  He stroked her red curls. His chest expanded with emotion. “I love you, sweetie.”

  She was his world, the best thing that had come out of his marriage. A gift from God that humbled him every day.

  He didn’t deserve Gabby, didn’t deserve her sweet innocence in his life. But for whatever reason, God had deemed him fit to parent this little girl.

  He prayed daily that God would help him be the father he should be.

  Inadequacy surged through him. The parental example he’d had wasn’t one he wanted to emulate. Even before his mother left them, Emerson Monroe had been a drunk.

  Usually not mean, but definitely not attentive or interested in raising the son who so desperately wanted his father’s attention. The painful memories of trying to gain his father’s approval hung like stones around Wyatt’s neck, reminding him daily not to become his father. Wyatt would make sure his child knew she was loved every moment of every day. She had to know that nothing she did would ever make him stop loving her.

  And he would protect her with his dying breath.

  Which it seemed someone was bent on taking from him.

  He let his eyes drift closed as words rose to his lips. “Lord, please put a hedge of protection around us and keep us from harm. Keep Gabby safe. I know you see everything, Lord. Please show me who’s doing this and why. Show me what I need to know to keep us safe.”

  The creak of a floorboard jerked him to full alert.

  Someone was in the downstairs hall. A spot on the flooring had warped and needed to be replaced. He hadn’t gotten around to fixing it. Now the squeaky board could be the thing that saved his life.

  He jumped from the bed, ripped the covers back and scooped Gabby up into his arms. She let out a soft cry.

  “Shh,” he said. “It’s okay. I need you to be very quiet.”

  Fear widened her green eyes, and her hands clutched his shirt.