Wyoming Brave

by Diana Palmer

  “I called that contractor,” Delsey added to Brady. “If you see Ren, tell him the man’s coming tomorrow morning to see what work needs doing.”

  “I’ll tell him.” He tipped his hat again. “See you girls later.”

  Merrie grinned. Delsey just laughed.

  “He’s nice,” Merrie said.

  “They mostly are. But we have a few who work security here,” she added solemnly. “One of them is dangerous. He came to us from Iraq, where he’d been training policemen. We don’t know much about him. He keeps to himself most of the time when he’s not watching the livestock.”

  “Who is he?” Merrie asked curiously.

  “They call him J.C. Nobody knows what the initials stand for.”

  “I’ll stay out of his way,” Merrie promised. She stretched. The gold chain around her neck chafed a little. She pulled out the pretty filigree gold cross she wore and dangled it on her sweatshirt.

  Delsey grimaced. She wanted to warn the girl, but she didn’t want to make her more nervous than she already was. Ren wouldn’t like that cross. It would prod him, like waving a flag at a bull. But maybe he wouldn’t see it.

  She smiled at Merrie and left her alone to unpack.

  * * *

  MERRIE CAME DOWN for supper, silently hoping Ren wouldn’t be at the table. She really didn’t want to antagonize him any more than she had by just walking into his house.

  “It’s a big place,” Merrie commented as she ate the delicious beef stew and homemade rolls Delsey had made.

  “Very big. It’s too much for me to keep by myself, which is why we have others come in to help out,” she said with a laugh. “Most of them are wives of the men who already work for us. It’s a way for them to make a little more money to supplement their husbands’ incomes. Some of them keep chickens and sell eggs. Others raise garden crops and sell the excess in summer. We have a good life here.”

  “The house is so beautiful,” Merrie said softly.

  Delsey frowned slightly. “You’re the first woman Randall brought here who ever said that.”

  “But, why?”

  Delsey shrugged. “Well, it’s rustic, isn’t it?” She looked toward the living room with its big chairs and long sofa, all done in burgundy leather with cushions that had a Native American look. The rugs on the floor were the same. There were crossed swords above the mantel and an antique rifle perched on a stand.

  “It looks like him,” Merrie said absently. “It’s sturdy and quiet and comforting.”

  Delsey was lost for words. She knew that the girl was talking about Ren, but she was surprised that she was so astute. Sturdy and quiet and comforting. She just hoped Merrie wasn’t in for too big a surprise when Ren disapproved of something she said or did.

  * * *

  REN CAME IN very late. Merrie had gone downstairs, still in her jeans and sweatshirt, to ask Delsey about an extra blanket. It was kept cold in the house and she was used to warmer temperatures in Texas.

  She stopped on the staircase when Ren spotted her, and his hard face grew even harder. He was looking pointedly at the front of her sweatshirt. For a minute she wondered if she was wearing something with writing on it. Then she remembered, it was just gray and plain. She swallowed hard. Surely he wasn’t looking at her chest!

  “Why the hell do you wear that?” he asked shortly.

  She was taken aback by the venom in the question. “I... I like sweatshirts,” she began.

  “Not the sweatshirt. That thing!” He pointed to her cross.

  She recalled Randall saying something about Ren’s feelings on religion. It hadn’t registered at the time, but it did now. She put her hand protectively over the cross.

  “I’m a person of faith,” she said in a faint tone.

  “Faith.” His eyes glittered at her. “Crutches for a sick, uneducated world,” he scoffed. “Superstition. Useless!”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Mr. Colter,” she began.

  “Take that damned thing off, or hide it. I don’t want to see it in my house again. Do you understand?”

  He was like her father. He spoke and it was like thunder. He frightened her. She tucked the cross under the sweatshirt with shaking hands.

  “And if you’re looking for something to eat, we don’t have à la carte food after supper time. You eat at the table with us, or you don’t eat. Am I clear?”

  She swallowed down the fear. “Yes, sir,” she said, her voice as shaky as her legs.

  “What are you doing down here in the dark?”

  “I... I wanted to get a blanket,” she stammered. “It’s cold in my room.”

  “We don’t run a sauna here,” he said icily. “Even on a ranch this size, we conserve heat. There are blankets in your damned closet. Why don’t you look before you start bothering other people about trifles?”

  She backed away from him. He was much scarier than she’d first thought. That posture, that icy look on his face, the fury in his eyes made her want to run. She’d rarely been around men. Mostly at art classes, and the men who took art were gentle and kind. This man was a lone wolf, not even housebroken. He made her shake when he spoke. Her first impression of him, of a handsome, kind man, took a nosedive. He was the devil in a pair of faded blue jeans.

  “That’s it,” he chided. “Run away, little girl.”

  She shot back up the staircase. She never even looked back when she got into her room. As an afterthought, she locked the door.

  * * *

  SARI HAD SAID that Merrie could call her, but she was afraid to. Even though she had six throwaway phones, she was afraid that one of them could be traced if she used it. The man who was after her would be wily. Paul Fiore, Sari’s husband, worked for the FBI. They were trying to find the man who’d been paid by the son of their father’s former lover to kill Merrie. The man he’d hired to kill Sari had been caught, and turned out to be their chauffeur. The man he’d hired for Merrie was far more dangerous.

  Timothy Leeds had planned to kill both of Darwin Grayling’s daughters, to hurt the man who’d killed his mother in cold blood. But Darwin had died suddenly, and Timmy had been too drunk to know who he’d hired to do the job. He was horrified at his own actions. He’d been grieving for his mother, furious at Darwin and wanting to get even, to hurt him. But Darwin had died just after Timmy made his deals. He’d taken cash, the money his mother had left him, and paid men to do murder. He was sitting in jail, waiting to be arraigned. He’d turned state’s evidence, but there was no way to get around the fact that his intent had been to kill two innocent women. Intent was the thing in law. Merrie should know. Her older sister, Sari, was an assistant district attorney in Jacobsville, Texas.

  She wondered what Sari would think of this taciturn, antagonistic rancher who was offended by a simple cross, a symbol of Merrie’s faith. That faith had carried her and her sister through some incredible sorrows. Their father had beaten them both, kept them like prisoners in the mansion where they lived, made them afraid of men. He was a killer, and he’d been involved in laundering money for organized crime. If he’d lived, he’d have gone to prison for life, despite his wealth.

  That wealth had almost cost Sari a husband. Paul Fiore was the only member of his entire family who hadn’t gone into crime for a living. Paul had been with the FBI for a long time, with a brief few years as head of security for the Grayling properties. Now he was assigned to the FBI office in San Antonio. Sari had concocted a story whereby Darwin Grayling had left a hundred million dollars to Paul—half the amount Sari had received from their mother’s two secret bank accounts that she’d left to the girls in her will. Each was given two hundred million, and it had almost sent Paul running. He didn’t want people to think he’d married Sari for her money. But now he and Sari were very happily married, and Merrie was happy for them. She and her siste
r had some terrible scars, mental and physical, at their father’s hand.

  She sat on her bed, still shivering a little from the rancher’s anger. She wondered if she was going to be able to stand it here. Ren Colter scared her.

  * * *

  SHE DID SLEEP, FINALLY. She went downstairs a little late for breakfast, hoping Ren would already be gone. But he was just getting up from the table.

  He glared at her. “We keep regular hours here for meals,” he told her curtly. “If you come sashaying down late, you don’t eat.”

  “But, Mr. Ren...” Delsey protested.

  “Rules aren’t broken here,” Ren returned. He looked at Merrie, who was stiff as a board. “You heard me. Delsey will tell you what hours mealtimes are. Don’t be late again.”

  He shoved his hat down over his eyes, shouldered into his heavy coat and went out without another single word.

  Merrie was fighting back tears.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” Delsey said. She drew the girl close and rocked her while she cried. “He’s just getting over a broken engagement, and he’s bitter. He wasn’t like this before. He’s basically a kind man...”

  “He said my cross was stupid and I wasn’t to let it show again,” she sobbed. “What kind of man is he?”

  Delsey rocked her some more and sighed. “It’s a long story. He went to a famous college up north on a scholarship and a professor there changed his mind about religion. He was an excellent student, but when he came home, he was suddenly antireligion. He sounded off to his mother about her Christmas tree and her faith, and had her running away in tears. Then he overheard her telling Randall that Ren was as cold and heartless as his father, whom she’d divorced. She was proud of Randall, because he was a better son. Ren just left. He’s never spoken to his mother again.”

  Merrie pulled back and looked at the older woman through red eyes. “She divorced his father?”

  She nodded. She handed Merrie tissues to dry her eyes with. “His father owned this ranch, but it was a hard life. His mother had very expensive tastes, so the story goes, and Randall’s father wanted her. So she ran away with him.”

  Merrie grimaced. “It’s a huge ranch now.”

  “Yes, it is. But it was small and in debt when Ren showed up at the door just after that Christmas. He and his father began to work together to build up a breeding herd. Ren knew business, with his Harvard business degree, and his father knew cattle.” She smiled. “It took fifteen years, but they diversified into oil and mining, as well as cattle, and they built a small empire here. Ren’s very proud of it. His father was, too. He died two years ago.” She sighed. “Ren wouldn’t even let his mother come to the funeral. He’s still bitter about what he heard her say. He won’t speak to her at all.”

  “It isn’t human, to hold a grudge like that,” Merrie said quietly. “He seems such a cold man,” she added softly.

  “There’s a kind man under all that ice. It’s just that he’s been frozen for a long time.”

  “He scares me to death,” Merrie confessed.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Delsey said quietly. “You have to stand up to him, honey. A man like that will walk all over you if you let him.”

  “I’ve lived almost twenty-three years with a man like that,” Merrie told her. “He...” She swallowed and her arms folded over her chest. “He was brutal to us, especially after our mother died. He wanted sons. He got us. So he made us pay for it. We couldn’t even date. He wouldn’t let us have friends. We still can’t drive a car. I’ve never even been kissed. How’s that for a stifled environment?” she asked with a hollow laugh. “The only concession he made was that we were allowed to go to church. You have no idea how important faith was to us when we were growing up. It was all that kept us going.” She fingered the cross under her sweatshirt. “My mother gave me this cross. And I’m not taking it off.”

  Delsey smiled. “That’s the spirit. You tell him.”

  “Sorry. I’m not a lemming,” Merrie teased.

  Delsey laughed. “You’re a tonic, you know.”

  Merrie looked wistfully at biscuits and sausage and eggs. “I guess I’ll be on time at lunch,” she said.

  “He’s gone. Sit down and eat.”

  Merrie sat at the table, her eyes worriedly glancing at the door.

  “Stay there,” Delsey said. She went and looked out the front door. Ren was going down the hill toward the barn in his big red SUV. Snow had started to fall lightly.

  She went back to the kitchen. “He’s gone to the barn. After that, he’ll ride out to the line cabins and check on the livestock. Snow’s starting to fall.”

  “It is?” Merrie was excited.

  “Eat first,” Delsey said with a laugh. “Then you can go play in the snow.”

  She hesitated with her fork over the eggs. “Thanks, Delsey.”

  “It’s no problem. Really.”

  Merrie sighed with pleasure and dug into breakfast. Afterward, she slipped on a light jacket and her boots. She was sorry she hadn’t packed a coat. They never had snow in Comanche Wells in autumn. They rarely even had it in winter.

  “Child, you need something heavier than that!” Delsey fussed.

  “I’ll be fine. I don’t mind the cold so much if there’s snow.” She laughed. “If I get too cold, I’ll just come back inside.”

  “All right, but be careful where you go, okay?”

  “I will.”

  * * *

  SHE STARTED WALKING around the house and down the path that led to some huge outbuildings with adjacent corrals. There was even a pole barn with bench seats. Inside it, a man was working a horse with a length of rope, tossing it lightly at the prancing animal. It was black and beautiful, like silk all over. It reminded her of home and her family’s stable of horses.

  She played in the thick flakes of falling snow, laughing as she danced. It was so incredibly beautiful. She caught her breath, watching it freeze as it left her mouth, enjoying the cold, white landscape and the mountains beyond. She wanted to paint it. She loved her home in Texas, but this view was exquisite. She committed it to memory to sketch later.

  She was curious about the poor horse that had been beaten. She could empathize with it, because she knew how that felt. She had deep scars on her back from her father’s belt, when she’d tried to save her poor sister from a worse beating. Her father had turned his wrath on her instead.

  She shivered, remembering the terror she and Sari had felt when he came at them. He wouldn’t even let a local physician treat them, for fear he’d be arrested. He got an unlicensed doctor on his payroll to stitch the girls up and treat them. There was no question of plastic surgery. They had to live with the scars.

  Not now, of course. Sari and Merrie were both worth two hundred million each. They’d gone shopping just before poor Sari ran away to the Bahamas to get over Paul’s rejection. But Merrie had bought sweats and pajamas and very plain clothing. She still couldn’t force herself to buy modern things, like crop tops and low-cut pants. She didn’t want to look as if she was hungry for male attention.

  Her eyes were drawn to a huge building with two big doors at its front and a corral adjoining it, with doors that opened into the building. The area was cross-fenced, so that each animal had a slice of pasture. That had to be the stables. She wandered closer, hoping not to run into any of Ren’s men. She wanted to see the poor horse. She knew they’d stop her. Ren would have left orders about it, she was sure.

  She waited in the shadows until two men came out.

  “We can grab a cup of coffee and come back in thirty minutes,” one told the other. “The mare isn’t going to foal tonight, would be my bet, but we have to stay with her.”

  “Let’s don’t be gone long,” the other one said on a sigh. “Boss has been in a terrible temper lately.”

&nb
sp; “He should have known that woman was nothing but trouble,” the first one scoffed. “She wrapped him up like a late Christmas present and kept him off balance until he bought her that ring.”

  “Don’t mention Christmas around him,” the other man muttered. “Almost got slugged for it myself last December.”

  “He doesn’t believe in that stuff,” the first man sighed. “Well, to each his own, but I love Christmas and I’m putting up a tree month after next. He can just close his eyes when he drives by my cabin, because the damned thing is going in the window.”

  The other man laughed. “Living dangerously.”

  “Why not? He pays good wages, but I’m getting tired of walking on eggshells around him. The man’s temper gets worse by the day, you know?”

  “Think of all those benefits. Even retirement. You really want to give that up because the boss is in a snit? He’ll get over it.”

  “Hasn’t got over it in six months, has he?”

  “It takes time. Let’s get that coffee.”

  “Vet’s coming tomorrow to check on the mare. Maybe he got that tranquilizer gun for Hurricane. Damned shame, what happened to him.”

  “Not as bad as what happened to the man who did it,” the other man said, wincing. “Boss turned him every way but loose. I never saw so many bruises, and he was a big man. Bigger than the boss, even.”

  “The boss was in the army reserves. His unit was called up and he went overseas. He was captain of some company, not sure which, but they were in the thick of the fighting. He changed afterward, I hear.”

  “He’s been through a lot. Guess he’s entitled to a bad temper occasionally.”

  “I didn’t mind seeing him lose it with that damned cowboy who beat Hurricane. Damn, it was sweet to watch! The man never landed a single punch on the boss.”

  “Sheriff noticed all the bruises. He said he guessed the man was so drunk he fell down the stairs headfirst.”

  His companion burst out laughing. “Yeah. Good thing he likes the boss, ain’t it?”

  “Good thing.”

  They walked on. Merrie, who’d been listening, grimaced. Ren had been through hard times, too. She was sad for him. But that didn’t make her less afraid of him.