The Texan

by Joan Johnston

  “What are you doing out here, Mizz Creed?” His voice was clipped but controlled. The violence she’d felt in his touch was still there in his eyes, which glittered with hostility.

  “It’s Dr. Creed,” she rasped, glaring back at him.

  He lifted a black brow. “Well, Dr. Creed.”

  She opened her mouth to say I need your help. But the words wouldn’t come. There was nothing wrong with her voice. She just hated the thought of asking a Blackthorne for anything.

  “I haven’t got all night,” he said. “There’s an emergency at the barn—”

  “Ruby’s foal has already been delivered safely,” she said. “I made up that story because I wanted to speak privately with you.”

  “You delivered Ruby’s foal?”

  She saw the confusion on his face. “Your sister tried to manage by herself and ran into trouble. Since your vet was out of town, she called me.”

  Owen grimaced, but to his credit, didn’t berate his sister in front of her. Neither did he thank Bay for saving the foal. “You’ve got me here now,” he said. “What is it you want?” His hands fisted on his hips in a way that made her think he was itching to wrap them back around her throat.

  She lifted her chin and met his gaze. Big mistake. His gray eyes had turned into shards of ice. His body was wired tight, like frayed barbed wire ready to snap and tear flesh.

  Her stomach clenched with unaccustomed fear, which she told herself was unreasonable. She’d simply surprised him, and he’d reacted to the threat like the lawman he was. He couldn’t know how frightening it was for her to be imprisoned against the wall by his large, muscular frame. She swallowed past the soreness in her throat and said, “My brother’s in trouble.”

  “Which one?”

  “My younger brother Luke.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his hands left his hips and crossed over his broad chest. “I knew I should have arrested him last night. What’s he done now?”

  “Luke hasn’t done anything,” Bay retorted. “But he seems convinced your brother Clay has.”

  Owen snorted with disbelief. “What’s your brother accusing Clay of doing now?”

  “The same thing he accused him of last night.”

  His lips curved in amusement. “What is it you expect me to do? Arrest my brother?”

  Bay put ice in her voice to take the smile off his face. “I believe my brother is in danger, and that your brother is the one threatening him.”

  “I’d be more inclined to think the opposite,” Owen said. “Your brother’s the one who attacked mine last night.”

  Bay was starting to feel some of Luke’s frustration. She was tempted to turn and walk away. But what if her delay in seeking help cost Luke his life?

  When Bay didn’t speak, Owen shook his head in disgust and turned back toward the house.

  “Wait!” Bay reached out to stop him but jerked her hand back, remembering how he’d reacted the last time she’d touched him without warning.

  Her raspy call was enough to turn Owen around, but he was obviously irritated at her jumpiness. “Look, lady, I’ve got better things to do than stand here—”

  He was interrupted when the screen door creaked open, and an older man wearing a Texas Ranger badge and a salt-and-pepper mustache stuck his head out the door. “So this is where you went.”

  The Ranger gave the two of them a speculative look, then joined them on the porch, waiting to be introduced.

  Owen finally said, “This is Dr. Bayleigh Creed, one of the two local vets. Dr. Creed, this is my boss, Ranger Captain Tex Mabry.”

  Bay managed a smile. “Good evening.”

  “Am I interrupting something? I hope?” the captain said, returning her smile. He glanced from Bay to Owen and back again, recognizing the tension between them but uncertain of its source.

  “You’re not interrupting a damned thing,” Owen said. “What is it?”

  The captain eyed Bay as though he expected her to leave, but when she merely smiled back at him, he turned to Owen and said, “I got a call from the FBI office in Midland. The Park Rangers found a motorcycle abandoned on a dirt road in the Big Bend near where Hank was shot. Apparently it belongs to one of the guardsmen in Bravo Company who discovered those three crates of mislabeled VX mines. We may have a suspect at last.”

  “You got a name?”

  “Check with Paul Ridgeway. He’ll have it.” Mabry tipped his hat up with a finger and said, “You be careful out there, Owe. I don’t want to lose another man to these bastards.” He turned to Bay and said, “’Scuse my language, ma’am. But the men who hijacked those VX mines are mean sonsofbitches.”

  Bay had paled as she listened to Captain Mabry. It had to be Luke’s motorcycle they’d found. Which meant her brother was now on foot in the Big Bend. Even worse, in the flicker of an eye, he’d gone from being a man chasing down suspects, to a man accused of stealing the VX mines himself!

  She remembered how Luke had come home two weeks ago excited by his discovery—along with a half dozen other soldiers—of some mislabeled crates of VX nerve gas mines. She’d given him a hard hug, realizing how close her family might have come to losing him. In college, she’d done a paper on chemical warfare, so she knew how deadly VX nerve gas was.

  A single VX nerve gas mine exploding in Dallas or Houston or San Antonio would be devastating. Every living thing within a range of eight miles would die a grisly death within minutes. It was appalling to think someone had stolen three crates of them.

  But it hadn’t been her brother.

  A chill went down her spine as she considered the danger Luke was in. Not only did he have to watch out for the two men he was chasing, but now Owen Blackthorne was heading into the Big Bend to hunt him down. Dear God. She had to find Luke and get him out of there.

  “Are you all right, Dr. Creed?” the captain asked.

  Bay felt Owen’s hand at her elbow and barely resisted tearing herself free. “I’m fine,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “Just a little tired. It’s been a long day.”

  Owen eyed her keenly and said, “Isn’t Luke a private in Bravo Company?”

  “Your brother Clay is his company commander,” Bay replied, meeting Owen’s incisive stare with one of her own.

  Stalemate.

  “Your brother rides a motorcycle,” Owen said.

  “So do a lot of Texans.”

  “I wonder how many of them also serve in Bravo Company,” Owen said.

  Bay searched her mind for someone in Luke’s National Guard unit who also rode a motorcycle and blurted, “Bad Billy Coburn rides a Harley.”

  “‘Bad’ Billy Coburn?” Captain Mabry interjected. “Sounds promising.”

  “He’s a troublemaker, all right,” Owen confirmed.

  “We’ve already interviewed all the men in Bravo Company once, but you might want to talk to this ‘Bad Billy’ character again before you head into the Big Bend tomorrow,” the captain said.

  “Or maybe I should start with the doctor’s brother,” Owen said, staring into her eyes.

  Bay resisted the urge to look down and the even greater urge to fill the silence with a declaration of Luke’s innocence. She felt invaded by Owen’s stare, which sought out her secrets. But she’d learned from her father never to back down. So she stood her ground and met Owen’s probing inspection with one of her own.

  She thought she saw Owen’s lips curve in a grudging smile before he finally turned to his boss and said, “I’ll check them both out in the morning.”

  “I’ll make sure Ridgeway e-mails you everything he has before you leave tomorrow,” the captain said. “Good night, Dr. Creed,” he said, tipping his hat to her.

  Once the screen door had closed behind him, Owen turned to Bay and said, “Where’s your brother, Dr. Creed?”

  “Where’s yours?” Bay shot back.

  Owen scowled at her, but she refused to be intimidated. It wouldn’t take much effort for him to discover that Luke had called her from the B
ig Bend—his sister had been there when the call came in. But Bay wasn’t going to volunteer any information that might help the Texas Ranger find Luke.

  When Owen’s eyes narrowed, Bay knew he was remembering why she’d called him outside in the first place.

  My brother’s in trouble.

  Bay resisted the urge to blurt out her fears. She would never convince Owen Blackthorne that Luke was an innocent bystander. And she didn’t want her brother caught in the crossfire when the Texas Ranger caught up with the real hijackers.

  But how could she possibly find Luke on her own? The Big Bend National Park sprawled over an area larger than Rhode Island, with hundreds of miles of paved and unpaved roads and remote, primitive trails. Most of the Big Bend was desert, made green by plants that needed little water—acacia, candelilla, ocotillo, and cactus. Beyond the desert rose the imposing Chisos Mountains, covered with pine and juniper.

  “Whoever stole those mines has already killed once,” Owen said. “If your brother’s involved—”

  “He isn’t,” Bay said too quickly.

  “When you brought me outside, you said your brother was in trouble,” Owen persisted. “What kind of trouble?”

  Bay thought fast. “He didn’t come home last night. My mother’s worried. I thought you might be able to help us locate him.”

  “What part does my brother supposedly play in his disappearance?”

  Bay arched an indignant brow. “Your brother was fighting with mine last night. I thought he might know what’s become of Luke.”

  “Do you think your brother might be involved in this hijacking?”

  “Of course not!” But if she found it impossible to believe her own brother was involved, it was even more absurd to imagine Owen’s brother having anything to do with the theft of the VX mines.

  Why would Clay Blackthorne, the attorney general of the state of Texas, son of one of the wealthiest men in the country, want to steal a bunch of nerve gas mines? It was far easier to believe that Luke Creed, son of a widowed mother who could barely make ends meet, had stolen the mines to sell them for cold, hard cash.

  Luke’s wild allegations would more likely be seen as an attempt to make trouble for his company commander, a man with whom Luke had recently brawled, and against whom Luke—indeed, his whole family—bore a grudge.

  Was her brother in way over his head? Should she tell Owen Blackthorne what she knew? But how could she trust a Blackthorne to give her brother a fair hearing?

  She stuck her hands under her armpits to prevent Owen from seeing how they were shaking.

  “If you know anything,” he said. “If you can give us any help finding—”

  “The truth is, I can help you find those mines.” Bay couldn’t believe the enormous lie that had just come out of her mouth. She took a deep breath and added, “But you have to take me with you to the Big Bend.”

  “I work alone.”

  “Then we’re finished here,” Bay said, turning to leave.

  Owen caught her before she’d taken two steps. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what you know.”

  “I’ll tell you everything when we get to the Big Bend.”

  “I can’t take you with me, Dr. Creed. It’s too dangerous. If you help me out, I’ll make sure your brother gets a chance to tell his story in court.”

  Bay gave an unladylike snort. “I don’t believe you.”

  She was surprised at the anger that flared in his eyes before he said, “I’m not in the habit of lying.”

  “I’ve never met an honest Blackthorne,” she said. “And I sure as hell don’t trust you.”

  “I ought to arrest you for obstruction,” he muttered.

  “Go ahead!” she challenged. “Then I can tell them how you manhandled me.” She glanced toward his tight grasp on her arm, then put her fingertips to her aching throat, and said, “I’m sure I’ll have the bruises to prove it.”

  He looked down in surprise to where his fingers were clamped on her forearm, as though he’d had no notion of how tightly he was holding her, and abruptly let her go.

  She rubbed her arm and said, “When do we leave?”

  “You wouldn’t be able to keep up with me.”

  “Of course I would,” she replied. “I’m incredibly fit.”

  She felt her stomach flutter as his eyes raked her from legs to belly to breasts … and lingered there appreciatively. His heavy-lidded gaze lifted to her mouth, and she nervously slid her tongue across her lips. She felt a quiver of anticipation as his eyes locked on hers, hot and needy.

  “You can’t come with me,” he said at last. “You’d be a … dangerous distraction.”

  She heard herself swallow. “Then I’ll go by myself.”

  “The lawmen posted at the park entrance will have orders to keep you out.”

  “Then I’ll go around the entrance,” she said stubbornly. “There are other ways to get into the park.”

  “It’s not safe—”

  “You owe me,” she said, cutting him off.

  “How do you figure that?”

  “Your mother put my father six feet underground. Your brother Trace stole my sister Callie’s heart and spirited her away to live with him on some cattle station in Australia. And you put my brother Sam in a wheelchair for the rest of his life.”

  Owen’s jaw tightened, and his face paled. “It was an accident. We were playing football.”

  “Maybe it was,” she conceded. “But your mother certainly caused my father’s death. And Trace was ruthless in his pursuit of Callie. I’d say the debt is all on your side, and it’s time to pay up. I’m coming with you to make sure my brother gets home alive and well. You owe my family that.”

  “The Big Bend is too hazardous a place to go with some civilian traipsing along behind me,” he said.

  “I’m willing to take my chances.”

  “I’m not.”

  Bay played her ace. “Luke called me on my cell phone while I was delivering Ruby’s foal.”

  Owen hissed in a breath of air.

  “Ask Summer,” Bay said. “She’ll confirm that I’m telling the truth. I know where to look for my brother. I can save you a great deal of time and effort. But only if you take me with you. You can pick me up at Three Oaks tomorrow morning, right after you talk to Bad Billy Coburn. I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Bay turned and marched away. She didn’t look back. But she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her, devouring her. And her stomach responded with that appallingly delicious flutter.

  THE FOREMAN’S HOUSE WHERE SAM LIVED WAS DARK, AND Bay presumed her brother must be at the Homestead, a half mile farther down the road, which blazed with light on the lower floor. She parked in back of the house and could see through the screen door that her mother and elder brother were sitting at the large trestle table in the kitchen.

  As she stepped inside she asked, “Have you heard from Luke?”

  Her mother had risen to pour Bay a cup of coffee from the electric pot on the counter and set it in front of her as she joined them at the table. Bay put several spoonfuls of sugar in her coffee and added enough cream to make Sam laugh.

  “I’ll never get used to the way you drink coffee,” he said.

  “There’s still plenty of caffeine in it, which is the only reason I swallow the foul-tasting stuff.” Bay sipped at the steaming coffee, swallowed before her tongue could burn, and said, “I think Luke might be in serious trouble.”

  “That irresponsible whelp,” Sam muttered. “When is he going to grow up?”

  Bay met Sam’s eyes and lifted an admonishing brow. It had taken him eleven years to start pulling his own weight. Bay was still getting used to the changes in her brother over the past year. When Sam had woken up in the hospital after his accident on the football field, a cripple for life at eighteen, he’d railed against his fate. For the next eleven years, he’d been a surly, miserable creature, drunk as often as not.

  Her father should have brought Sam t
o heel sooner, but since it was Owen Blackthorne who’d crippled him, Sam had been allowed to nurse his grievance against the world in general, and the Blackthornes in particular. It was only after their father had been killed and their mother wounded in the same hunting accident—which had been arranged by Eve Blackthorne with the help of her husband’s segundo Russell Handy—that Sam’s behavior had changed drastically.

  Sam freely admitted it was a Blackthorne who’d been responsible for the turnaround. Owen’s elder brother Trace had wanted Bay’s elder sister Callie for his wife, but Callie had argued that she couldn’t be spared from Three Oaks. So Trace had set about to make it possible for her to leave the ranch.

  He’d threatened Sam into sobering up, then arranged for a special van that Sam could drive by himself, and finally remodeled the foreman’s house so Sam could live there on his own.

  When Bay had come home after her final semester at Texas A&M, she’d found a totally different person from the Sam she’d always known. The scraggly beard was gone, and his shoulder-length chestnut-brown hair had been trimmed up over his ears. He was wearing a newly ironed Western shirt and crisp jeans and boots with a spit shine. Most importantly, his brown eyes had been clear and bright, without the red lines that spoke of a night’s dissipation, and his voice had possessed a pleasant Texas drawl without the slur that had so often marked his speech when he was drunk.

  Over the past year, he’d taken a greater interest in their Santa Gertrudis cow/calf business, and there was growing hope that this year they might recognize a profit that had been noticeably absent in years past.

  Bay hated giving thanks to a Blackthorne for anything. But Trace was clearly responsible for initiating the changes in Sam.

  Sam had the grace to look sheepish, but said, “Where is Luke? What kind of trouble is he in now?”

  Bay kept her eyes focused on her cup as she said, “While I was delivering a foal at Bitter Creek he called me … from the Big Bend.”

  “What the hell was he doing there?” Sam demanded.

  “Sam.” That was all it took for her mother to silence her brother. “Go on, Bay.”

  “Luke’s motorcycle has been found abandoned near where that Texas Ranger was shot.”