by Kylie Brant
Everyone responded negatively, and Jackson tried to tamp down his alarm, which was threatening to overwhelm him. When he felt a hand on his arm he pulled away impatiently, unwilling to pause and answer one of the multitude of questions being tossed his way. Only the words spoken had the power to stop him.
“Is Kaly safe?” It was Larry Scott, and Jackson turned in astonishment to find him holding a hand to his head.
The hired man’s words hung in the air between them for a second, and then Jackson reached for the man’s neck with both hands. “You son of a bitch,” he snarled, his fingers pressing hard. “I’ll kill you if you’ve hurt Kaly. What have you done with her?” His face was a mask of murderous fury as he punctuated his threat by squeezing forcibly.
“Jackson, what the hell are you doing?” Jeff grabbed at his brother, but it took several of the nearby men to pull him off the cowboy, who dropped to the ground, gasping for breath.
“Where is she?” Jackson roared at Larry, fighting to get away from those who held him.
“Don’t know,” Larry choked out. “Trying to tell you. Barn earlier. She...went back...see new calf.” He stopped and heaved for more air. “I got hit…left in bushes.”
For the first time the gash on Larry’s head made its way through the haze of Jackson’s panic-fogged mind. Unfamiliar dread twisted through him, freezing his thoughts, his voice, his actions. Kaly had been in the barn earlier—she still might be. He turned to stare in horror at the burning building, where the firemen were fighting what appeared to be a losing battle with the scorching flames. Someone had done this purposely; the fire had not been an accident. His shock began to dissipate at Larry’s next words.
“Has anyone looked in the barn for her?” The blond man’s frightened countenance met Jackson’s frozen one for reassurance. “She couldn’t still be in there, could she?”
Good Lord, Jackson thought, sick fear snaking through him. Surely he and Nick hadn’t walked right past her in there. To know he’d been close enough to save her, but had been ignorant of her presence...
He sped back toward the barn and grabbed several wet blankets. Tying a cloth over his face and nose, he ran toward the flaming structure.
“Hey, what’s he doing? Dammit, stop him, someone!” The call sounded behind him, but when a hand grabbed at his shoulder, he flung it off and kept going. He made it to the entrance, felt the searing heat, before he was forcibly stopped. He twisted violently, but three men dragged him back toward the fire truck.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jackson?” the chief shouted. “I can’t let you go back in there!”
“I’ve got to! Kaly may be in there—it’s the last anyone saw her.” He yanked futilely at the men still holding him. “Dammit, let go of me!”
The chief nodded at the men, who slowly loosened their hold. He spoke adamantly. “If someone is in there, we’ll be the ones to go in, not you. We have the gear and materials to enter the building if the fire inside allows it. Do you have any idea whereabouts she might be?”
Jackson tried to push aside his fear enough to think. “The new calf was in the last stall on the west—that’s where she was headed.”
The chief nodded. “Is there another way into the barn, closer to the back?”
“There are back doors, but they’re kept locked at night.”
The fireman shouted orders to some of the men, who grabbed axes and hose off the truck and followed Jackson around the barn. Three men stood abreast, slamming their axes against the doors, as others sprayed the face of the building trying to lessen the flames.
Splinters of wood flew through the air, as the axes made gaping holes in the doors. While the men broke them down, two others donned protective masks.
“She can’t be in the corridor. We would have seen her when we brought the animals out,” Jackson shouted to the chief, who was giving orders to the men. “You’ll have to check the stalls.”
The chief nodded, and the men entered the building.
Jackson stood watching, unable to be more than a spectator at what he fervently hoped would be Kaly’s rescue. Cold sweat beaded his brow, despite the scorching heat from the fire. He closed his eyes against the anguish he felt at the thought of Kaly’s being trapped somewhere in that roaring blaze. The crackle of the flames as they licked their way hungrily over the building mixed with the hiss of the steam formed as the water hit them.
His Kaly. He couldn’t lose her now, not when she’d become such an important part of his life. He prayed to God, as he hadn’t since his father had lain dying of cancer, to spare Kaly, to bring her back to him.
A shout went up, stirring Jackson from his misery. It seemed an eternity since the firemen had gone in, though in reality it had been only a few minutes. The two men came out carrying a... Jackson squinted through the haze as he raced toward them. A body.
Jackson recognized Kaly as he drew nearer. The sight of her unconscious form jolted him, and he felt the cold, tangy taste of fear in his mouth. She was motionless as they carried her away from the burning barn and out of reach of the smoke.
Jackson paced along beside them. They laid her limp body down some distance away from the excitement, and he fell to his knees next to her. Her still face was blackened, and congealed blood matted her hair. One fireman began giving her first aid. A second later Jackson noted with vast relief the shallow rise and fall of her chest.
“She’s alive!” one of the men shouted. “We’ll need the emergency helicopter, though.” Another went to make the call on the radio.
Jackson stroked her forehead with fingers that visibly trembled. He had to touch her, had to, or go insane. He reached for her hand and froze. In his joy at finding her alive, he had completely overlooked the strangeness of her position. She was bound hand and foot! His gaze swung to the fire chief.
“They found her like this?” His words came out hoarsely.
The man nodded grimly. “She was gagged, too.”
Jackson’s head whirled. Someone handed him a knife, and he moved her gently to her side and carefully cut away the cords around her. He winced as he saw the raw, scraped wrists. Some bastard had tried to kill Kaly. The thought kept hammering at him, at his disbelieving mind. But why? What possible enemy could she have made since her stay here?
Upon the heels of that question, realization dawned. She had been hurt because of him. Whoever was behind the rustling operation had hurt her in an attempt to get at him. Nausea rose in his throat as he accepted the probability. His fault, his fault, his fault. The thought pounded at his brain. He unclenched his big hands, one of which had still been gripping the knife. Laying it aside, he reached to hold one of Kaly’s still hands in his.
“I’ll get him, sweetheart,” he vowed brokenly. “I’ll never let you be hurt again. I promise.” As he waited for the helicopter to arrive from the Albuquerque hospital, Jackson wondered bleakly if he’d ever be able to forgive himself for putting her in danger.
The sound of the chopper was heard long before it could be seen in the smoke still billowing from the building. The medical team quickly disembarked and went to work. They lifted her unconscious body onto the stretcher, hooking her to oxygen. Jackson’s attempt to follow her aboard was thwarted when a member of the emergency team informed him there was no extra room available. Jackson swallowed hard and nodded before tearing his eyes away from Kaly’s immobile form.
Backing away, he turned and ran toward the garage, roaring out with one of the pickups. He slowed when he spied his brother and sister-in-law, and opened the door to explain the situation.
“If you’re going to the hospital, I’m coming, too,” Jeff said, heading around to the other door.
“Me, too,” Carrie piped in.
Jackson glared at them helplessly. “Someone should stay here,” he argued.
“Nick can take care of anything that comes up. What are you waiting for?” Jeff demanded.
Jackson lost no more time in debate. The tires squealed as
the truck sped away from the ranch. To the hospital. To Kaly.
When her bedroom door pushed open a week later, Kaly looked up eagerly. She was stir-crazy from the monotonous bed rest she’d been prescribed after her release from the hospital, and she welcomed the opportunity to talk to anyone. Jackson appeared at the door carrying a large bouquet of roses, and her face softened into a sweet smile.
Jackson had been like a wild man, a nurse had told Kaly after she’d regained consciousness. He had badgered the staff unmercifully, asking for assurance that her condition had stabilized and insisting she be given special treatment. Kaly had no memory of the scene the nurse described to her, when Jackson had burst through the emergency-room doors, shouting at everyone in sight. She could well imagine him threatening the doctor on duty, who had treated him like a lunatic for the rest of Kaly’s stay. She knew only that Jackson had been at her side when she’d first opened her eyes, and the entire time she was hospitalized. Her heart was so full with love at the sight of him she thought it would burst.
Now, Jackson stood in the doorway for a moment, drinking in the picture she made as she sat up in the bed. Her honey-colored locks hung around her shoulders, and dressed in the fancy peignoir set he’d given her, she looked more like a seductive siren than a recovering patient. He stepped into the room and presented the roses with a flourish.
“Something for mademoiselle,” he said with an atrocious French accent, laying the flowers in her outstretched arms.
Kaly brought the pink blooms to her face, breathing in their fragrance. “They’re beautiful, Jackson, but I thought Peg said she’d scalp you and hide all your hats if you cut one more rose from her garden.” Her voice was still hoarse from the effects of the smoke, a vivid reminder of the horror she’d endured.
Jackson shrugged as he sat on the side of the bed, facing her. “I’m not afraid of that old war-horse. Besides, I had these delivered from town.”
Kaly giggled, earning herself a mock scowl. “But you didn’t order them because you’re afraid of Peg,” she agreed with mock seriousness.
“I decided you needed some pink flowers in here, and she didn’t have any more pink roses in the garden.”
Kaly cast a wry look around the room. Every spare space had been cleared to display his offerings. The first dozen bouquets were in vases, but after that Jackson had had to make do with drinking glasses and quart jars. They covered the surfaces of the dressers and tables, and several sat on the floor. She had no idea where this newest addition would go.
Jackson bent over her, his face close to hers. “Don’t I even get a thank-you kiss?” he begged huskily, his navy eyes alight with intent. Their lips met, and lingered to taste, tongues sweetly entwining. Jackson’s blunt forefinger traced the lace that demurely hid her breasts from his eyes. When their mouths broke away, Jackson’s breathing was already choppy. Ever since Kaly had been hurt he had spent almost all his time with her, first by her hospital bed, now in her room at the ranch. He’d insisted on sleeping in her bed each night since she’d come home, holding her while she slept, as if to convince himself that the nightmare was over, that she was indeed safe and in his arms again. But the proximity was wearing down his control, and he was finding that even a simple kiss was enough to make his blood pound.
It seemed like forever since they’d last been able to make love, and he wanted it badly, needed to get as physically close to her as he could. Perhaps then he’d rid himself of this fear of losing her. Inwardly cursing the errant part of his body that insisted on acting like a randy teenager, he moved off the bed to walk toward the window, searching for a subject that would take his mind off his raging hormones.
One came immediately to mind as he abruptly remembered the phone call he’d had from the sheriff earlier that day. He hadn’t talked to Kaly about Paul Whitfield since she’d first been able to give them the information they needed at the hospital. He didn’t like to think of what the man had almost accomplished, how close Kaly had come to death. But he knew the time had arrived for him to let her know what was going on. He turned back to face her. “I talked to Roy again this morning.”
“Oh?”
He studied her face carefully, but was unable to read anything more than interest. He found himself relaxing imperceptibly. If she’d shown any signs of distress whatsoever, he wouldn’t have continued. “Whitfield must have left the area as soon as he heard you were alive. He was trailed to California and picked up at LAX. He was buying a ticket to Argentina.”
Kaly stiffened. Though she was aware that Jackson was watching her closely, and that he would clam up if he thought she was getting upset, she couldn’t prevent the reaction. “Where is he?” she asked, proud that her voice sounded almost normal.
“In jail in Albuquerque,” he responded. “Don’t worry, Roy thinks the odds are against his making bail. There’ll be a good case that he’s a flight risk.” Add to that his being charged with attempted murder and arson, he added silently, feeling familiar rage rise at the thought of Whitfield. Not for the first time, he wished savagely for a return to the justice of the Old West. Nothing would be as satisfying as getting his hands on Whitfield after his attempt on Kaly’s life. But he’d have to content himself with making damn sure the man stayed in prison for a long, long time.
“You’ll have to testify at the trial,” he said abruptly. “I argued with Roy, but he says there’s no way to get you out of it. They’ll need your testimony.”
She looked at him steadily. “It’s all right, Jackson. I can do it.”
He frowned at her willingness. “I don’t want you to have to do it,” he said. “I don’t want you to have to put yourself through that whole ordeal all over again. To have to face him again.”
“I can do it,” she repeated firmly.
He strode back to the bed and sank down next to her, picking up one of her hands and holding it in his larger, harder one. She had a spine of steel and more heart than ten men put together. Hell, yes, she could do it, but that wasn’t the point. He wanted to protect her from that, from anything that would ever hurt her again. Apparently he wasn’t going to have the chance this time. But she wouldn’t be alone in that courtroom; he’d be with her every step of the way.
“I still can’t believe how stupid I was, telling Paul all about our breeding operation just so he could turn around and try to destroy me.” He laughed without amusement. “He played us all the way, right down to planting that phony vehicle description. He described having seen Larry’s truck when the rustlers supposedly hit his ranch, and we all swallowed it.”
“So that’s why you suspected Larry,” Kaly said thoughtfully. “You never said.”
“Roy picked up the biker you saw in the bar,” he continued, “and he spilled all he knew about everyone involved in the operation. None of them ever actually met Paul. He only talked to them on the phone, and the bikers did all the work. They sent the money to a mail drop in Albuquerque. But Paul was real careless when he gave the one guy his cell phone number.”
“Well, at least Larry is cleared,” Kaly said. “And he never has to know he was under suspicion, does he?” Jackson looked away. “Does he?” she demanded.
“Yeah, I did let him know it, there at the end,” he admitted uncomfortably.
“Jackson!” Her tone was disapproving. “I certainly hope you’ve apologized to him.”
He cocked an eyebrow, glad she didn’t know just how much he’d had to apologize to the man for. He’d been out of his head with worry about Kaly, and when he’d thought Larry had something to do with her disappearance, he’d been uncontrollable. “It’s been taken care of,” he stated finally. The two weeks’ extra vacation the man was being given had helped ease some of Larry’s dismay at how he had been distrusted. “Now, can we please stop talking about everyone else and talk about us?”
Her eyes widened a little at his impatient tone. “All right,” she said quietly, inwardly quaking. He was right, they did need to talk, but a cowardly part of
her wanted to put it off. She was too afraid of what he was going to say.
“Do you know that I used to sit next to you and watch you sleep?”
Her eyes flew to his. Whatever she’d expected, that wasn’t it. She shook her head silently.
“When you were in the hospital, and even when I brought you back here, I’d sit for hours and watch you. It took me a long time to believe you were going to be okay.” Her spirits rose at his expression of concern, but were dashed again at his next words. “I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you because of me.”
She snatched her hand back from his. The last thing she wanted from him was guilt, or worse, his pity. “Don’t blame yourself for this, Jackson,” she said stiffly. “I don’t.”
He frowned down at her, wondering at her sudden change of attitude. “That’s not what I—”
A knock sounded at the door. He bit off an imprecation and strode to open it—and came face-to-face with Larry Scott.
“Carrie said it would be all right for me to come up and see Kaly,” the younger man explained, eyeing Jackson warily.
“Come in,” Kaly called warmly. She noticed the wide berth he gave Jackson as he walked by him and wondered at it. The cowboy came over to the bed and stood uncomfortably, his eyes going between her and a silent Jackson.
“Carrie said you’d been hurt the night of the fire,” Kaly said to him. “I hope you’re okay.”
He shrugged easily. “Just took a few stitches is all. I didn’t even know what hit me. Paul nailed me right before I got to my bike. But you’re the one who really got hurt. How are you feeling?”
“Fine,” she said firmly, “and I’m getting out of bed tomorrow and going back down to work.” She fixed Jackson with a glare when he looked as if he might object. “If I stay cooped up in this room much longer, I’ll go nuts.”
“I suppose it’ll be all right,” Jackson conceded, as if giving her permission, “but you’ll start working only half days. And if you seem to be tiring, it’s right back upstairs for you.”
