The Color of Forever: Book Two: Forever Cowboys Series

by Whitley, Hope

  Marielle sat for a moment in silence. Finally she said, “Sammy, you know that old saying ‘home is where the heart is’? It’s true. Your home is wherever your heart is. My heart is here now, with Trey. If he had to move and live on a desert island for the rest of his life, I’d pack up and go along happily, just to be with him. When you find the love of your life, you’ll feel the same way.”

  “Maybe,” Samantha replied. “But since that hasn’t happened yet and doesn’t seem to be in the cards for me, we’ll probably never know.”

  “Ben, any news on the poachers?”

  Samantha was sitting with Ben at her kitchen table, drinking coffee. He had been pretty unavailable the last few days, trying to catch up with the men who were killing animals to sell their antlers or other body parts on the black market. She was still deeply concerned about his safety in dealing with these dangerous men by himself, but tried to hide her fear and keep it pushed out of her mind as best she could.

  “I came across a black bear yesterday,” he told her. “Some of their work.” He shook his head, revulsion for the poachers plain to see in his face. “Makes me all the more determined to catch their sorry asses and put them away for a long time.”

  Wow, Samantha told herself, Ben was seriously out to get those men. She hoped his passionate resolve to bring the poachers to justice wouldn’t cause him to take too many chances or act recklessly in apprehending them.

  “Have you found out yet how they’re getting in and out without being seen?”

  “I think I’ve got that figured out,” he replied. “They’re using a large ATV of some sort. Something bigger than a four wheeler and much quieter. I believe it’s a four wheel drive Bad Boy Buggy. They’re made to be super quiet and go anywhere. Hunters like them because they can get closer to game, undetected. They could haul it in and out on a truck or a truck with a smallish trailer. Since I haven’t found any vehicle like that anywhere in the area—and believe me I’ve looked—I don’t think they’re acting alone.”

  Sam’s heart skipped a beat. More than two men? She’d really be worried now!

  “What do you mean,” she asked, trying to keep her voice from quivering from the fear she felt. “You think they have partners helping them?”

  Ben nodded. “Yeah, at least one partner. That’s all it would take. They could have the third person drop them off with the Bad Boy Buggy and then come back to get them at a prearranged time, some place a good distance away from where they’re hunting. That would explain why they aren’t going in and out the way I thought they must be. I don’t think they’re calling whoever is coming back to pick them up because as you’ve noticed, cell phone signals aren’t reliable up here.”

  “Anyhow,” he told her, “it’s just a matter of time if they keep poaching in my territory. I’ll catch up with them sooner or later.”

  Ben spoke these words with a quiet but sure confidence. She could tell he had no doubts about catching the men and once again hoped he wasn’t being overconfident. She didn’t think he could count on the poachers coming along quietly once he caught them. Ben had told her that fines just for hunting out of season ran as much as $5,000 plus the offenders had their guns and vehicles confiscated, all hunting and fishing licenses revoked for life, and could face jail time, as well.

  With penalties that stiff, Samantha had a feeling the men would put up plenty of resistance before they’d allow themselves to be taken into custody. That didn’t bode well for Ben. Her sense of uneasiness increased. She wondered if he was thrust into these situations often.

  She looked up from staring abstractedly into her coffee cup and encountered Ben’s gaze upon her. Catching her eye, he gave her a slow, lazy smile that had her heart doing flip flops. “Once this is over, I’ll have a surprise for you,” he said.

  Dare she hope he was planning on picking up where they left off in the meadow? Looking into his eyes, which today looked more of a slate blue than any other color, she felt her mouth go dry with desire. His sex appeal was the most potent she’d ever experienced. Just thinking about his lovemaking … his hands on her body … his mouth on hers….

  Samantha jerked herself up mentally and gave her head a little shake to clear her lustful thoughts. Collecting herself and reining in her raging hormones, she noticed that Ben was looking at her strangely.

  “What kind of surprise?” Samantha managed a slightly shaky smile in return.

  “I’ve been checking on the eagle’s nest when I could,” Ben said, “and watching it via the web cam. No sign of anyone trying to bother it so maybe the camera scared whoever it was away or else it wasn’t anybody who intended to steal the eggs and they just wanted to get a closer look.”

  “That’s good,” she replied, meaning it. At least the eagles were safe, for now anyway.

  “Anyhow, eagle eggs have an incubation period of 35 days. That means they’ll be hatching any time now. Would you like to ride the horses up there instead of walking this time, to see the eaglets after they make their debut?”

  “Yes!” Sam replied enthusiastically, excited at the prospect of seeing the baby eagles, and spending time with Ben, of course.

  Rising from the table, he crossed to the sink and rinsed out his coffee cup. Turning to Samantha, he smiled at her again, obviously pleased by her interest in the eagles.

  “It’s a deal, then. Wanna shake on it?” he said, stretching a hand out toward her. Samantha, arrested on her way to place her own cup in the sink, hurriedly set it down and placed her hand in his, thinking how good it felt to have her hand enveloped in his much larger, stronger one.

  With a low chuckle, Ben took her hand and pulled her to him. “Tricked ya,” he said, grinning mischievously. Looking down, he cupped her chin and tilted her face upward, bending his head to claim her lips in a deep kiss that seemed to go on forever. As always when Ben kissed her, Samantha went weak at the knees and put both arms around him to keep her balance.

  Unconsciously, she arched her back, which thrust her hips and nether parts closer to him, and her breasts out and upward. With a deep throated growl, Ben wound a hand in her long hair and used it to bend her backward so that she was offered up to him more fully. His kisses deepened as his tongue moved sinuously inside her mouth, taking what she offered and demanding more.

  Tugging Ben’s shirt loose from his jeans, Samantha slid her hands across his bare skin, exulting in his hard muscles and broad chest. She felt on fire, every nerve ending in her body burning with arousal, her hot blood beating a jungle tattoo as it coursed downward through her body before becoming a blazing inferno at the center of her desire.

  Suddenly, Ben broke the kiss and removing her hands and arms from his body gently, moved away. He drew a ragged breath and attempted a smile. “Ummm … sorry about that. I couldn’t resist stealing a kiss but that really is all I have time for right now. I’m meeting up with one of the Forest Service helicopter pilots to search from the air and see if I can spot anything that might be helpful in nailing those poachers.”

  Samantha managed a nod, then a weak smile in return. “It’s okay, Ben. I understand. Duty calls.”

  “Afraid so,” he replied ruefully. “This will all be over soon and we can spend more time together again. If you want to, of course.”

  If she wanted to? Was he kidding?

  After walking Ben to the door, Samantha went to the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. Her reflection looked back at her from the mirror over the sink … face flushed with passion, lips slightly swollen from Ben’s kisses, eyes glazed and heavy lidded with desire.

  Deciding that the best way to vanquish her unquenched sexual fires and take her mind off worry about Ben and the poachers for a while would be to engage in a flurry of activity, she headed to gather cleaning supplies. Cleaning the house from top to bottom would pass the time, at least.

  Two hours later, Samantha surveyed the spotless house and wondered what she could do next. As Marielle’s ranch house was small, a thorough cleaning
didn’t take that long and she still felt restless, unable to settle down and read or even take a nap. A nap would have been welcome because she hadn’t been sleeping well due to worrying about Ben and just thinking about Ben in general. But although her body was tired, her mind was still working with a conglomeration of half formed thoughts and feelings surging around in there.

  She didn’t know what was wrong with her. She felt all out of sorts, uncomfortable somehow in her own skin, as though there was a cosmic shift taking place within her … rearranging her thoughts and feelings, changing her at the deepest levels of where she lived inside.

  Sleep, when it did come, wasn’t all that restful. Her slumber was disturbed by strange dreams, vivid and haunting. Not nightmares, but they seemed to her, even in a somnolent state, as though they were laden with significance. She felt that their meaning would be of extreme importance if she could only figure out exactly what they meant.

  Her sister Maeve appeared in many of her dreams, a younger Maeve, picking up the pieces and trying to hold their little family together after their mother was killed and again after their father died. She dreamed about the time she came upon Maeve holding the letter of acceptance from Juilliard and crying softly. Even at such a young age, Samantha had realized what a sacrifice her older sister had made for them, giving up her dream of studying at Juilliard and becoming an opera singer.

  Some of Samantha’s vague, troubling dreams were of an older Maeve, just married and so in love with Patrick that her sweet, gentle face glowed with happiness. Then darker dreams of Maeve after Patrick was killed and her sister had miscarried the baby she had wanted so badly, told she would never be able to have more children.

  Maeve had been the most wonderful sister anybody could ever wish for, Samantha thought now, recalling a particularly disturbing dream she’d had the night before in which Maeve had been scolding her. That one really couldn’t have any real meaning, she told herself now, because Maeve had never scolded her or even been impatient with her.

  Although her sister had never remarried, content it seemed to remain a widow, Samantha thought Maeve seemed happy enough with her life. She had gone to college and become a Certified Nurse-Midwife and professed herself to be happy with her career choice. Samantha had often wondered if Maeve enjoyed bringing other women’s babies into the world to help make up for not being able to become a mother herself.

  Anyhow, she thought, she should call Maeve tonight or at least very soon. All the dreams had made her want to reach out to her older sister. If nothing else, she wanted to do this just to reassure herself that everything was okay. Not one for believing that dreams could foretell the future, Samantha still felt a strong need to connect with the sister who had taken the place of mother and father in her life.

  Maybe a cup of chamomile tea tonight at bedtime and a little less coffee would help her sleep or at least keep the weird dreams at bay, she decided. For now, with the house all ship-shape and nothing else she wanted to do, she headed for the pasture with carrots for the horses. The horses had a calming effect on her, she had noticed. She no longer found their size intimidating because they were gentle giants, always amiable and docile. She loved petting them and touching their velvety soft noses. They were also so very appreciative of the treats she gave them that she felt guilty if she skipped a day.

  Samantha made a simple dinner of roast chicken and vegetables, then settled in to read the latest in a series of cozy mysteries by one of her favorite authors. She was always eager to devour new books from the authors she liked best and would, in the ordinary way of things, be content to settle in on the couch and read several chapters before going to bed.

  But tonight, she couldn’t get her brain to shut down its many distractions, mainly centered around Ben Connors, and focus on the book.

  It had been dark for a couple of hours and was damp and chilly with a steady rain falling. Deciding that a fire in the fireplace would be nice, Samantha went to the enclosed back porch for wood and remembered that she had used the last of it brought in from the wood shed a few nights ago and hadn’t replenished her supply yet.

  Drat! She cursed inwardly but shrugged into the old barn coat of Mari’s hanging by the back door, then slipped her feet into the over sized rubber boots sitting nearby. Grabbing the large flashlight kept on a shelf for emergencies, she braved the rain and headed out to the wood shed, head down to try and avoid getting any wetter than necessary.

  Her brain registered seeing a pair of booted feet in front of her, illuminated by the flashlight beam, about the time a hand grabbed her arm and wrenched it painfully.

  “Ouch!” she cried, trying to jerk away. She started to shine the light in her assailant’s eyes but it was taken from her forcefully.

  “Hey, stop it!” Samantha ordered, fright beginning to give way to anger. “Who are you and what do you want?” It was difficult to see in the torrential downpour that was falling now, but she was able to make out not one, but two, male figures.

  “Shut up!” The one holding the flashlight barked the order at her and then grabbed her shoulders and spun her around toward the house. “Get back in the house.” He shoved her roughly, causing her to stumble and almost fall.

  “What if there’s somebody in there with her?” the other man asked.

  “There’s not, we’ve been watching the house for hours and ain’t nobody come or gone.

  Besides, if there was to be somebody else in there it’d be their tough luck. That’s what this pistol on my hip is for.” With that, the man gave an evil chuckle and prodded Samantha to walk faster.

  She weighed her chances of making a run for it and hiding somewhere, but knew she wouldn’t get far in the huge boots that were at least 3 sizes too big for her and the heavy jacket that was weighing her down. Were these men the poachers? If so, why were they here?

  The man behind her reached around to open the back door, then pushed her roughly across the threshold. “Get in there!”

  He grabbed her arm again and half dragged her into the kitchen. The other man followed and they both sat down at the kitchen table. The one who had taken the flashlight and manhandled her snapped out a question in a mean, no nonsense voice. “You got coffee?” Samantha noticed that he appeared to be the one in charge. The other man seemed to be basically following along with whatever this one dictated.

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  “Then make us some. Now.”

  She moved to the kitchen counter, trying desperately to control her shaking. She didn’t want these men to see how afraid she was of them. As she ground the beans and heated the water to pour into the French press, the leader laughed harshly.

  “Would ya look at that, Larry? She’s got a fancy coffee set-up,” he sneered. “She’s a fancy little piece all around, ain’t she? Take that coat off, honey,” he commanded.

  Samantha’s blood turned to ice in her veins. She was wearing a thin, oversize tee shirt that she often slept in and that barely covered her bottom, along with a pair of bikini panties. There was no doubt in her mind that these men would rape her and maybe worse … they might even kill her. She swallowed hard and tried to smile engagingly at her captors.

  “I’m not dressed for company,” she told them. “Let me just go to my bedroom and get something else to put on and I’ll be right back. I can fix you something to eat,” she went on, almost babbling in her nervousness and terror. “I’ll bet you’re hungry if you’ve been watching my house for hours.”

  “Oh, we’ll be going to your bedroom, lady, you can count on that,” the more aggressive man sneered, leering at her. “Now get that coat off.”

  Samantha stood there for a long moment, wanting to defy him but afraid of the consequences. If she could stall for time, maybe she could come up with a way to get away from them.

  She removed the coat but left the old rubber boots on, hoping the clodhoppers might detract from her appeal to these men. But that wasn’t the case. The one called Larry gulped and
openly stared at her, his eyes big and appreciative. The other man’s face wore a calculating grin, his eyes narrowed to slits as he surveyed her critically.

  “Well, well, well, ain’t we just hit the jackpot tonight, Larry? Yep, all I wanted for starters was the little lady’s Jeep, but that can wait a while. Nobody’s likely to come calling at this hour anyhow, so we can take our time.”

  He licked his lips suggestively and Samantha’s stomach churned in fear. “I’m goin’ first,” he told his partner, who bobbed his head in agreement.

  “Okay, Bobby Lee.”

  “But we got all night,” the one she now knew was named Bobby Lee went on, addressing Samantha. “So how about we take you up on that kind offer to fix us something to eat?”

  She nodded. “Okay. What do you want?”

  “Well now, you know what we want, sugar,” he said mockingly. “But we can wait a little while for that. What you got that you can fix us to eat in a hurry? We wanna get to the main event pretty quick, but we’re gonna need a lot of energy for that so go ahead and feed us to keep our strength up.” He laughed wickedly at his own joke.

  “I’ve got some roast chicken,” Samantha told him hesitantly. “And vegetables. Potatoes and carrots, some fresh asparagus.”

  “That sounds mighty fine,” Bobby Lee said approvingly. “Fix it up, and hurry. I’m anxious to see your bedroom.”

  Hands shaking so badly she could hardly carry the food from the refrigerator and fearing that her legs were going to buckle under her, Samantha did as he ordered. Her mind was racing frantically, trying to come up with some feasible plan for escaping the fate these men had in store for her. If only she had some fast acting poison or sleeping medicine she could slip into their food!

  She warmed the food and they wolfed it hungrily, washing everything down with coffee. Samantha pressed dessert on them, glad she had made a chocolate pie from one of Consuelo’s recipes yesterday.

  “Nah, we don’t need no pie,” Bobby Lee informed her with an unholy gleam in his eyes. “We got dessert all lined up, don’t we Larry?” He cackled, much amused at his idea of wit. “I got an idea you’ll be a whole lot sweeter than any pie.”