Cowboy Christmas Guardian

by Dana Mentink

  Fire.

  The stables were on fire.

  She could not breathe, could not move. She imagined Joe Hatcher holding a lit match to the clean hay, watching while it caught, observing the mounting terror of the trapped horses, listening to them die. He would be smiling, enjoying the pain and misery.

  Rage unlike any she’d ever known enveloped her in a white-hot grip. A rush of adrenaline lit her from the inside out.

  “I will not let you murder those animals,” she hissed in a voice she did not even recognize.

  Shotgun over her shoulder, she yanked open the front door. Sprinting, she raced back to the stables. The smoke was pouring from the end stall where Pattycake and Buddy stabled together. She yanked open the door, shotgun ready, but there was no sign of an intruder, only the terrified horses.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured to the panicked animals. “I’ll get you out.” She eased around them to gently prod them toward the door when a shadow of movement made her tense. She had only enough time to hold her arm up, but the blow caught her on the shoulders, knocking her to the floor beneath the horses.

  Covering her face, she tried to avoid being trampled and shield herself from further attack.

  There was the sound of the stable door swinging shut and the scrape of a wedge being kicked under it.

  She crawled toward the door, head down to avoid the thickening smoke. Pressing her palm against the wood, she confirmed what her instincts already told her.

  She was locked in.

  FOURTEEN

  Barrett didn’t bother saddling a horse. He gunned the engine on his truck, tires churning up grit as he took the road to the Arroyos’ property. Owen was in the passenger seat, tight jawed and silent, a rifle across his lap. He’d been awake in the kitchen, the perpetual victim of pain and insomnia, when Barrett had staggered in.

  “I’m coming,” he’d said. “You need backup.”

  Barrett had not argued.

  Leaves torn loose by the incoming storm slapped against his windshield, the wipers keeping time to the panicked beating of his heart. Someone in the stables?

  “Police are en route,” Owen said. “She reply to your text?”

  He shook his head. Would Shelby play it smart and stay locked inside as he’d advised, no, ordered, in his text? Would he, if the situation was reversed? If he thought someone was threatening his horses, he’d grab his gun and charge out like an angry bear. Any of his brothers would do the same.

  The rain sheeted on the glass, his headlights picking out pockets of water collected on the road. He had to slow a few times when his tires caught in several potholes, jarring them both. The house came into view, some lights showing on the bottom floor.

  They cut to a hard stop behind Ken Arroyo’s truck. The smell of smoke hit them immediately, the crackle of flames jerking their attention toward the barn. “The stables are on fire.”

  “I’ll get the horses out,” Owen said. “You see if Shelby’s hiding in the house like you told her to.”

  Owen disappeared into the night. He was a crack shot, a trained soldier, and he had way more experience with this kind of situation than Barrett. Barrett made it to the front door in moments, stomach plummeting when he found it ajar. He pushed it open with his boot.

  “Shelby?” he called softly. Then louder. No answer. The eerie stillness of the house telegraphed the truth. She’d done what he would have. Gone to save her horses. He texted his brother. Shelby’s at the stables. Coming now.

  Then he ran, flat out pounded down the sloped drive and onto the graveled trail that led to the stables. Drifts of smoke filled his nostrils. He found Owen trying to unjam the door at the end, but the wedge was driven too deep.

  “Let me,” he said, grabbing an ax and striking at the hinges. It took Barrett a half dozen chops to knock away the metal. He hauled open the door. Owen went for the horses when a shot exploded through the air, sending him to his knees.

  “Don’t touch my horses,” came a faint voice from the corner.

  “Shelby?” Barrett yelled, smoke stinging his eyes. “Don’t shoot. It’s Barrett and Owen. We’re here to get you out.”

  Crouched in the corner, she looked at him, peering through the smoke. After a moment, she struggled to rise but crumpled back into the hay. He gathered her up and carried her to the barn, laying her down while Owen tended to the horses.

  She lay on her side, sucking in air, coughing. He brushed the hair from her face. “Easy does it. Just focus on breathing.”

  She sucked several more lungfuls before she struggled to sit up.

  “The horses are out,” he soothed. “Just stay put until we get an ambulance here.”

  She sat up anyway. He felt a thrill of relief. “What happened?” he asked, figuring he could keep her still for a while if she was talking.

  She coughed violently. “I saw someone setting a fire in the stables. Whoever it was knocked me down and locked me in.”

  “Hatcher?”

  “It had to be.”

  Barrett frowned. “Did you actually lay eyes on him?”

  “No,” she admitted. Her face was smeared with black streaks. “But I know it was him.”

  “So you came to stop him? With a shotgun?” Barrett was incredulous.

  “It stopped your brother, didn’t it?”

  He almost laughed out loud.

  Shelby was not smiling. “The horses would have died. Diamond was loose before I got here. I was trying to let Pattycake and Buddy free when he locked me in.” Her expression darkened into a mask of rage. “He was going to let the horses burn alive. What kind of monster would do that?” Her lip trembled, just a little, and he could stand it no longer. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her close. She pressed her face into his shirtfront and he knew she was trying desperately not to cry.

  “It’s okay now,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”

  She gulped and sniffled and he breathed in the comfort of her presence, the knowledge that she was safe, and pressed his lips to her hair. She raised her head, tears staining her cheeks.

  He carefully wiped them away with his thumbs. Her skin was satin soft, warm, and he cradled her head between his palms, easing away the shivers, the fear.

  “How could anyone do that?” she said so softly he could barely hear her. The eyes that met his were tortured, cut through with a pain he desperately wanted to ease.

  “I don’t know, honey.” He let his palms cup her cheeks. “But the important thing is you’re okay and the horses are all right.”

  She raised her head to his, and without thinking he pressed a kiss to her warm mouth. For a moment, her lips melted into his and his soul felt an ease that he had not experienced since his wife’s death. The feeling was so intense it startled him and he drew back, staring.

  “I, uh...”

  She pulled away and stood. “I have to go find the horses. They’re scared.”

  He regrouped, trying to shove away the reality of what had just happened. “You should wait to be checked out by the paramedics.”

  “No. I’m okay.” She headed toward the pasture.

  “I’ll help.”

  Owen met them outside. “Stables are clear of any intruders and the horses are uninjured as far as I can tell, but we’d better have Doc Potter check them over. I got the fire mostly contained, but I’ll keep working on it.” The sound of sirens pierced the night. “Cops are finally showing up.”

  “We’re gonna take a look at the horses.” Barrett hoped his voice didn’t sound strange, but Owen just nodded.

  “I’ll stay here to keep more water on the fire and brief Larraby when he comes.”

  Shelby grabbed a few apples from the barn and several lead ropes.

  Barrett was struggling over what to say when she stopped
short. “There they are. All three of them.”

  The horses were gathered under a dripping oak. Diamond gleamed as if she had been carved out of marble. She tossed her mane when she saw Barrett and Shelby.

  “I think Pattycake and Buddy will cooperate, but Diamond might be tough.” Shelby handed him two apples. “Can you get them while I try to coax her?”

  Barrett agreed. Shelby was right. The frightened horses were only too happy to nibble their apples and allow themselves to be fastened to lead lines. They followed him back to the stables eagerly enough. There was still the stink of smoke in the air but it was quickly dispersing in the wind.

  The two did not want to be parted, the smaller gelding whinnying pitifully when he tried to stable them separately. Barrett put them together in an undamaged stall, stroking their trembling sides. He dried them down and gave them water and oats, talking softly until they settled.

  Larraby had finished with Owen by the time Shelby had returned, wet to the boots, with Diamond.

  “Miss Arroyo,” Larraby started.

  She shook her head. “I’m taking care of this horse first. Then I’ll answer your questions.”

  Barrett hid a smile at the look of annoyance that crept over Larraby’s face. Owen’s expression said he was enjoying it, too.

  “Quite a woman, isn’t she?” Larraby said in an uncomplimentary tone.

  Yes, Barrett thought with a growing sense of awe that scared him. Yes, she is.

  * * *

  Shelby was only half paying attention to the police officer’s questions.

  Barrett’s kiss had enflamed her already amped emotions. Why would he do such a thing at such a time? And more significantly, why did his kiss make her feel like the tight bands holding her heart together had sprung wide open? Out of control. That situation must not be allowed to continue. There was no future with Barrett, a man who despised her kin and distracted her from her duty to save her uncle. She squeezed her hands into fists and brought her thoughts into focus.

  “So are you going to go arrest Hatcher?” she demanded.

  “I will question him and if he can’t provide an alibi, then we’ll go from there.” Larraby shoved his pen in the pocket of his rain slicker.

  “He’s guilty,” she said.

  “Yeah, but we got this little thing called ‘innocent until proven guilty’ here in this country and you didn’t witness him committing a crime.” Larraby looked at Barrett and Owen. “Can either of you make a positive ID?”

  The brothers shook their heads. “No,” Barrett said, “but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong.”

  “Doesn’t mean she’s right either,” Larraby said. “I’ll take some pictures and look for prints.” He walked off.

  The horses, Shelby thought with a start. Would Hatcher return to try again? How would she protect them?

  Barrett seemed to read her thoughts. “The horses should come to the Gold Bar until your uncle returns.” He paused. “And so should you.”

  “I...” She took a breath. “I would appreciate it very much if you could take them for a few nights in case that monster returns, but I’ll be fine here.” The thought of staying in the empty house all alone made her skin crawl, but she could not, would not, impose on the sympathy of a family who hated her uncle. Besides, the less time with Barrett, the better.

  Barrett glowered. “Not safe.”

  She held up the shotgun. “I’m a pretty good shot. Ask Owen. He can confirm.”

  “Well, my head is still attached to my shoulders, so I guess that’s something,” Owen said, clicking off his phone. “Jack and Keegan are on their way with the trailer. We’ll get the horses settled in at the Gold Bar.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. I am grateful and my uncle would be, too.”

  “I doubt that,” Barrett muttered.

  She straightened. “I’m going back to the house to call him. Thanks again for your help.” She hurried away a few paces.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Barrett said.

  “I don’t need an escort,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  “Yes, you do.”

  She turned to face him. “Look, Barrett. It’s...it’s just not a good idea for us to be in close proximity.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Then why are you still following me?”

  “Dunno.” He wiped the rain from the brim of his hat.

  “Yes, you do. Tell me.” Her face went hot, remembering the kiss. He seemed to read her thoughts.

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “I don’t understand why I...” He looked up at the watery moonlight. “I mean, considering my feelings about your uncle and all...” He stopped again. “But I can’t stop thinking about you, and you make me feel, I dunno...” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Awww, never mind. Forget I said that. I’m comin’ at least until you get inside and lock your door, so that’s that.”

  She didn’t know what to do but force her legs into motion while her mind reeled. Can’t stop thinking about you...? How could he possibly have put into words the same emotions flailing around her insides?

  It was ludicrous, dangerous, ridiculous.

  Keep walking, Shelby. Just keep walking.

  Mercifully, Barrett did not speak at all on the way back to the house. By the time they got there, Shelby had herself firmly under control.

  “Thank you, Barrett. I’ll come for the horses as soon as my uncle gets back. We’ll pay you to board them, of course.”

  “Naw, you won’t.”

  “Yes, we will. You don’t want to do a favor for my uncle.”

  He grimaced. “Could be God’s giving me the opportunity to change myself.” A soft sigh escaped him. “I hate it when He does that.”

  She could not help giggling at the plaintive look that showed through the weariness. There was just something about the guy, the way he struggled with his faith, yearned to do the right thing in spite of the flaws that got in his way, that made her want to kiss him again.

  “Anyway,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” She blinked hard. “Oh, right. Our mine expedition.”

  “Yup,” he said. “And don’t even think about going without me. I...” He cleared his throat. “I know I upset you tonight with that kiss and all my crazy chattering, and I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

  His gaze was firmly fixed on his boots.

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. “It was just a kiss and some words. No harm done.”

  He looked at her then, something wild and wounded and yearning in his expression. “Yeah,” he said. “No harm done.” He turned away.

  “Barrett,” she called.

  He stopped.

  “You aren’t by chance planning on sleeping in your truck and keeping an eye on me tonight, are you?”

  His eyebrows shot clear up to his hairline. “Me?” His tone dripped with innocence. “Why would you accuse me of such a thing? I’m not a stalker, you know.”

  She knew, and she also knew that was exactly what he intended to do. She opened her mouth to complain when he waved her off.

  “Go on now. Starting to rain again and I’m getting cold.”

  “I thought you were too stubborn to get cold.”

  “Must be turning weak or something.”

  She smiled, taking in his proud form, tall and strong, as if he defied the rain to fall on him. Not weak, not anything close to it.

  The door was ajar, as she’d left it in her haste to protect the horses. The smell hit her first. As she flipped on the lights, it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  She screamed.

  FIFTEEN

  Barrett bolted through the open door, almost plowing into Shelby from behind. Blood oozed down the walls, d
ripping in scarlet rivulets to the wood floor. No, not blood, his brain corrected. The chemical scent of paint permeated the space.

  Shelby was staring at the wall. Written in the paint was a message: You’ll Die. By the time he had the presence of mind to take out his cell phone and photograph the horrible phrase, the letters had smeared and dripped, drying in ugly trails, yet still shouting out their message of hate.

  You’ll Die.

  He put a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling under his touch.

  “I saw the can of paint at the barn,” she whispered. “While you and I were securing the horses, he came up here and did this.”

  Barrett did not know what to say. Ken Arroyo’s living room was desecrated. The man did not deserve that, no matter how Barrett felt about him. Nor did his niece.

  “I’ll get Larraby,” he said, anger humming through his veins. “And when we’re done here, you’re staying at the Gold Bar. Period.” His tone brooked no argument and she did not offer one. That worried him almost as much as the fact that whoever had gone after the horses had been at large here, too.

  Would Hatcher actually do such a thing? Barrett couldn’t fathom it.

  His phone call summoned Larraby and another officer who began printing and photographing. At the end of the process, they allowed Shelby to try to clean up the spilled paint before it dried on the floors. Barrett helped, but they succeeded only in smearing the color over the walls and in bright arcs across the wood planks.

  “I’ll leave an officer posted out front to keep watch tonight,” Larraby said, his tone more conciliatory than it had been earlier. “You can call him if you feel uncomfortable.”

  “No need,” Barrett said. “She’s coming to stay at the ranch.”

  Larraby mulled it over. “Okay. We’ll schedule some drive-bys to check on the property anyway.”

  Shelby called her uncle. Barrett stepped outside to allow them some privacy while she packed an overnight bag and he phoned his mother.

  “Can we accommodate a houseguest, Mama?” he asked after he filled her in.