Cowboy with a Cause

by Carla Cassidy

  Adam. His name sang through her. She’d thought of herself as a useless prisoner in a wheelchair until he’d come along. He’d opened the world to her again, building her a ramp to leave her prison, showing her a way she could make a living once again and allowing her to dance in his arms.

  When he looked at her, she knew he didn’t see a helpless cripple. He saw a woman he desired, a strong woman who he believed was capable of doing anything she set her mind to. And she was that woman. She had to believe that.

  Once again she looked around, desperate to find some way to help herself, unwilling to simply sit in the middle of the field and wait for death to find her.

  Jim couldn’t have thought of a better way to torture her than to leave her here. A bullet to the head would have been kinder than the slow, agonizing punishment he’d given her.

  In the distance she saw a stand of trees. She might have found them a windbreak against the cold air blowing from the north, but they might as well be a hundred miles away.

  She looked in the opposite direction and her gaze landed on the tractor. It looked as distant as the trees and once again she was overwhelmed with her inadequacies.

  She had a leg that wouldn’t work and now an ankle through which pain continued to shoot, as if all the bones inside had been crunched.

  Once again she looked at the tractor. It looked as if it hadn’t been used for a long time, but what if it would run? What if it could be her means of escape?

  The very idea seemed ridiculous. Even if it did run, she’d still have to get to it, and that wasn’t possible. Nothing was possible because she was a useless cripple.

  Stop it. The voice thundered in her head. It was Adam’s voice that spoke in her brain. “Stop thinking like that,” she murmured aloud, this time with a surge of strength rising up.

  Adam had told her she could be and do anything she wanted, that she was strong and stubborn and was capable of anything she set her mind to doing.

  She looked at the tractor once again. It might not run. It might be a relic left dead in the field. She couldn’t know whether it might help her or not until she got closer.

  She had two choices...sit here and wait for death or attempt to move herself to the tractor and hope and pray that the key was in the ignition and that it would work.

  Standing up was certainly out of the question, but so was being a passive participant in her own death. She’d managed to move across her bedroom floor like a crab when Jim entered her bedroom in the dead of night. She could work her way across the pasture the same way, moving backward and dragging her legs across the hard earth.

  She attempted this, crying out in pain as her wounded ankle bumped against the ground. Gasping, and then trying to regulate her breathing with slow, even breaths, she reminded herself that she’d lived with the pain of peripheral neuropathy for the past seven months. She could rise above the pain in her other ankle because she had to, because she had no other choice.

  Despite the cold wind that chilled her body as she began once again to drag herself, beads of sweat popped out along her brow. With each move she made, she moaned and yelped like a wounded animal.

  She stopped only when her arms were exhausted from her efforts. A hysterical burst of laughter threatened to escape her as she realized she’d managed to move herself only about six feet. At this rate it would take her until nightfall to make it there.

  Once again she fought against a wave of hopelessness. At least if she made it to the tractor, she could hopefully pull herself up in the seat and she wouldn’t be easy pickings if any hungry coyotes showed up.

  Besides, despite the futility of it all, she refused to give up. She’d survived the trauma that had put her in a wheelchair. She’d be damned if she’d just succumb to Jim’s plot to get revenge for a perceived betrayal without fighting for her life.

  Once again she began to move, and when she tired of dragging herself backward, she rolled over on her stomach and pulled herself along the ground that way.

  Agony. She was in sheer agony as sticks and rocks stabbed her legs, as her shoulders and arms screamed with the effort of moving forward inch by inch.

  She tried to rise above the pain, filling her head with thoughts of Adam. He’d been the gift that fate had blown into her life. She had been a sour, cranky cripple before he moved in, but he’d transformed her with his smiles, with the quiet assurances that she was so much more than the box she’d put herself in. He was supposed to have been just the cowboy upstairs, but he had become so much more to her.

  If she died, she’d die knowing that he’d been her hero, the man who had made her want to be better than what she was, the man who had made her want to strive for more.

  The wind had gotten colder, and as she rested for a moment, it inched into her and she shivered with a chill that penetrated her bones.

  Overhead the sun had disappeared beneath a layer of clouds that had begun to invade the sky, but she knew the forecast wasn’t for rain, but rather just dismal late afternoon clouds, a blustery late October afternoon and evening.

  Inch by excruciating inch she moved forward, her gaze never leaving the tractor in the distance. When she realized she’d moved half the distance from the place she’d been dumped to the tractor, a sudden burst of euphoria filled her, momentarily taking away her pain.

  She could do this. She was capable of doing so much more than she’d thought she could, so much more than Jim believed she could.

  She consciously willed herself not to consider that the tractor wouldn’t run, that she might not be able to operate it as a means of escape. At the moment the farm equipment simply represented a goal she was determined to reach.

  As she drew closer to the tractor, she realized it didn’t look as old as she’d initially thought, and her hope reached new limits.

  Was it possible that the tractor might run? Was it possible Jim had so underestimated her strength and will that he’d left a means of escape in the pasture?

  The idea forced her to move faster as she realized dusk would be arriving soon and after that night. She knew out here with no moon or stars the darkness would be profound. She had to reach the tractor before that happened.

  She renewed her efforts, pain a constant companion as she inched her way closer and closer to the tractor. You can do it. It was Adam’s deep voice that rang in her head, that sang through her veins.

  You can do it. It was her voice, owning the physical and emotional strength she knew she possessed. She understood pain, had danced with it many times, had nursed it between rehearsals. Pain had no place in a dancer’s life and so she’d willed herself not to feel, and that was exactly what she did now. The show must go on.

  The purple shadows of dusk were painting the western sky when she finally touched the faded green metal of the foot rung on the tractor. For a moment all she could do was simply cling to it with her hand, too exhausted to do anything else.

  Filth covered her and her jeans were torn, bloody knees showing through, but she’d made it. She’d made it! But you aren’t free yet, a little voice whispered inside her.

  From the ground the seat and the steering wheel looked miles high. A glance at the ankle that Jim had stomped assured her that there was no way she would be able to bear weight on it. She’d have to use the strength of her arms and shoulders to hoist herself up.

  From her vantage point she couldn’t tell if there was a key in the ignition or not, and therefore she had no idea if this had simply been a futile crawl of pain.

  There was only one way to find out. Using both her hands, she hoisted herself up and twisted so that she was now seated on the metal rung. Still she couldn’t see if there was a key in the ignition. It wasn’t uncommon for ranchers to leave keys in their equipment. Code of honor and all that still existed in Grady Gulch...except when it came to men like Jim and the killer, who still remained unknown.

  She rested for several long moments, wondering if her arms and shoulders would ever not ache again. She stared
down at her feet, one pointed daintily down to the ground and the other with an ankle that was now twice the size it should be.

  Now or never, she thought as she eyed the steering wheel. She used to be able to do pull-ups when she was dancing. She and a couple of other dancers had belonged to a gym and had worked out whenever they had a chance.

  One pull-up. That’s all you need to do, she told herself. She drew several deep breaths, reaching for every ounce of strength she had inside her.

  Extension—it was part of dance. Long extensions of arms and legs to make a perfect graceful line. There was no grace in the line Melanie made as she threw herself upward and grabbed on to the steering wheel.

  Her arms felt as if they were being pulled out of her shoulder sockets as she hung for a moment, and then with a burst of adrenaline and a cry of a warrior, she pulled herself up and into the seat.

  She trembled from head to toe, exhausted by her efforts, but when she saw the old rusty key in the ignition, a new burst of adrenaline surged inside her.

  Please, she begged whatever higher power might be watching, might be listening. Please let this work. Her hand shook as she reached for the key. It was icy cold between her fingers, and holding her breath, she turned it.

  Nothing happened.

  As she realized all her efforts, all the pain and sweat, had been for nothing, she laid her head down on the steering wheel and wept.

  Chapter 17

  As the sun sank lower in the west, Adam’s heart sank, as well. Too much time had passed since Melanie had disappeared for him to be able to summon much hope. Soon it would be dark and he couldn’t stand the thought of her out someplace in the night.

  He stood in the kitchen, at the window, staring out at the deepening shadows, and his heart cried out in pain. Cameron’s men had been pounding the sidewalks, talking to shopkeepers and neighbors, but nobody had seen anything.

  As word got out of Melanie’s disappearance, people began to stop by the house, offering to help. Even Brandon Williams in his motorized scooter zoomed up the ramp and asked what he could do to help with the investigation.

  But there was nothing anyone could do. She was gone and they had no idea how to find her. He leaned his forehead against the window, the pane cold against his skin.

  Melanie, where are you? Somehow they’d missed something, overlooked a crucial piece of evidence.

  In the pit of his gut Adam didn’t believe they were chasing the person who had killed two waitresses in the previous months. The more he thought about everything, the more he became convinced that this was something personal.

  Somebody had tried to destroy the photos of her that hung on the living room wall, photos of her doing what she’d loved best at that time in her life. Dancing was what had taken her away from Grady Gulch. Had somebody been angry when she left? Angry enough to carry a grudge for ten long years?

  He jumped as a hand touched the back of his shirt. He turned to see Tilly, tired lines etched in her face. “Come and grab a sandwich, Adam. You haven’t eaten anything all day.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not hungry, but thanks, anyway.”

  “She’d want you to eat, Adam,” Tilly replied reproachfully.

  Adam tightened his hands into fists at his sides. “She’d want me to find her.” He turned back to stare outside, wondering how long his heart could beat so frantically, how long he could hold out any kind of hope that they’d find her alive.

  They were missing something. He knew that Cameron was covering all the bases. Craig Jenkins had been in the middle of a meeting in Evanston at the time that Melanie had disappeared. Denver Walton had been having a leisurely lunch with Maddy Billings, and Billy Vickers had been delivering mail.

  Adam turned around and gazed at the scene before him. Cameron and Jim Collins were seated at the table, going over the list of people who had been interviewed, the places that had been searched.

  Melanie had insisted she hadn’t dated anyone seriously before she left Grady Gulch. She’d mentioned only three names: Denver Walton, Billy Vickers and Jim Collins.

  He narrowed his gaze as he studied the pleasant-looking deputy. Nobody had questioned Jim concerning the disappearance. Where had Jim been at the time Melanie had vanished?

  Adam’s mind clicked and whirled. Adam knew personally about obsession and revenge. His brother had waited two long years before attacking. Sam had simmered with rage and the need for revenge for a long time before he finally exploded.

  Was it possible Jim had some kind of a grudge against Melanie? One that had simmered for years and had been acted on only when she came back to town?

  It seemed crazy, and yet it was the only theory that hadn’t been explored. The more Adam thought about it, the more he couldn’t let it go. Jim had never married. Adam couldn’t remember anyone he’d even dated.

  He motioned to Cameron. “Could I speak to you for just a minute?”

  Immediately Cameron got up from the table and walked over to where Adam stood.

  “Let’s go into the bedroom,” Adam said and gestured to Melanie’s room.

  The minute Adam stepped into the room, his heart once again squeezed tight in his chest, making it hard for him to take a deep breath. The room held her scent and he wanted nothing more than to crawl into the bed where they had made love, lose himself in the memories of having her in his arms.

  Instead he turned to look at Cameron. “Has anyone checked out where Jim was when Melanie disappeared?”

  Cameron gave him a look of surprise, but the look quickly changed into a thoughtful frown. “Jim lives in a one-bedroom apartment. If he took Melanie, there’s no way he could get her inside there without somebody seeing him. Besides, he’s been here since word got out that she was missing. If he’s here, then where is Melanie?”

  Dead. The terrible word blew through Adam on a wind of despair and he could tell by the expression on Cameron’s face that the same word had entered his mind.

  “Is there any place he could have taken her? He could be keeping her locked up or something while he’s here,” Adam continued, driven by need. “He’s the only one we haven’t checked out, Cameron. I know he’s a deputy and all, but he’s a final piece that needs investigating. Where specifically was he at the time when Melanie was taken?”

  “I don’t know. He was on duty but I can’t know specifically what part of town he was in or what he was doing at the time.” Cameron stared at Adam for a long moment. “He has some property off of County Road J. He’s always talked about building a house there, but as far as I know, he’s never done anything with it. I’ll send some men out there to check it out.”

  Adam grabbed Cameron’s arm. “No! I’ll go. I don’t want Jim to know that we’re checking it out. You can tell him I’m heading back to my family ranch, that I need to be with Nick and Courtney.” An urgency gripped him by the throat. “Just let me do this, Cameron. That way if there’s nothing there, then Jim won’t be the wiser, and while I’m gone, you can use your team to pursue any other leads.”

  Cameron stared at him for several long moments and then finally gave a curt nod of his head. “The property is on the left side of the road about ten, twelve miles outside of town. Call me the minute you get there.”

  Adam didn’t wait for him to change his mind. He walked out of Melanie’s room, across the living room to the front door and then broke into a run toward his truck.

  It was probably a wild-goose chase, he thought as he backed out of the driveway and then roared down the street. Cameron still had plenty of men knocking on doors in Grady Gulch, checking abandoned storefronts and sheds, anywhere a woman could be stashed away.

  Somebody could find her before Adam even made it to Jim’s property, and as long as they found her alive, that would be perfectly fine with Adam.

  He just wanted her back. He needed her back. In the hours that she’d been missing, he’d realized that it was his love for Melanie that had suddenly focused his life.

  In the pas
t couple of weeks he’d looked at himself as a man and realized his anger about Sam had gone on too long, that it was time for him to look forward instead of backward. The fact that Melanie functioned so well from her wheelchair shamed him into wanting more for himself.

  How could he ever get a chance to win her love if somebody killed her? How could he hope to win the heart of a dead woman?

  His heart thrummed a frantic rhythm as he barreled down Main Street and headed toward the turnoff that would place him on County Road J. He knew the road...rarely traveled except for the people who lived there, a lot of fields on either side, with the houses few and far between.

  It seemed almost impossible to believe that Jim could be involved in this...almost impossible. But there was a small possibility that he could be involved.

  Adam stepped on the gas, afraid that he was too late, afraid not to hurry in spite of his fears. He turned on his headlights against the darkening gloom of night.

  He couldn’t stand the idea of Melanie not being home, not being where she belonged throughout the endless night. He patted his cell phone, assuring himself that it was in his pocket and knowing that Cameron would call him immediately if anything happened in town.

  He’d made so many mistakes.... They’d made so many mistakes. Everyone had just assumed they were chasing the same killer who had struck before. But Adam should have known something about the attack was different. He should have realized when he saw the broken glass on the pictures on the wall and when Melanie couldn’t remember doing it that something evil was present.

  Clenching his hands tightly on the steering wheel, he cursed himself for not realizing she wasn’t safe anywhere, that the person who wanted her could strike at any time, in any place.

  He should have never told her he loved her. He should have never left the house to go to the shooting range. He’d let her down.

  And the night was getting darker. Out here there were no streetlamps and the only lights he saw came from the houses he occasionally passed.