Jessi frowned at him. Garrett saved him, though. "Lash is right. I gotta get into town and alert the Rangers to be on the lookout for a couple of tractor-trailers full of prime beefers. Sooner the better."
Jessi nodded. "She shouldn't be walking on that leg at all," she told Paul. "And you have to get her in out of this rain. She needs to be warm and dry. I have a sling at home for lifting downed animals, if you—"
"We got one, too, Jessi. This ain't the first mishap we've had with a critter too big to toss over your shoulder. We'll bring out a wagon, and get her back to the stables nice and gentle. Don't you worry."
"I'll come by tomorrow to check on her," she said. "She'll need another shot of antibiotics, and clean bandages."
Alan grinned … in anticipation, Lash thought. "I'll be here, Jessi. You can show me how to take proper care of that wound until it heals."
Jessi nodded.
"Yeah," Lash said, without even realizing his mouth was running without brakes. "And I'll come along, too, in case you need any more help." Everyone looked at him. He cleared his throat. "I'd … er … like to get a look at this crime scene in daylight."
Garrett who'd rejoined the group shook his head, sent Lash a worried glance and then climbed into the pickup, which he'd left running. "I'll do everything I can to get those cows back to you, Paul."
"I know you will, Garrett. If there's anything I can do to help, you know where to find me."
Garrett touched the brim of his hat and turned the wipers up a notch as Jessi and Lash climbed in the passenger side. Garrett didn't head back toward the ranch, but into the town of Quinn, and his office, instead. The rain just kept coming, and the creek was already running alarmingly high when they crossed the bridge just outside town. As they drove, Lash heard thunder rolling constantly, like the thundering hooves of a thousand stampeding cattle. The wind was picking up now, as well, adding to the chaos outside. It whipped tree limbs and weeds viciously, and sent the raindrops into a horizontal, slashing pattern. Those slate-dark clouds had thickened over the face of the moon until they obliterated it.
"Hell of a storm," Garrett observed. "I don't like it."
"I hope they get the mare inside fast." Jessi looked over her shoulder, as if she could still see the Loomis ranch, which of course she couldn't. "And they'd better remember to rub her down till she's completely dry," she went on. "Damn, I should have stayed."
"You couldn't do anything more, Jess," Lash said, hating the worry he heard in her tone. "They'll do right by the horse. Hell, Alan seemed as smitten with that animal as he is with you."
Jessi blinked twice and turned wide eyes on him. "What kind of an asinine remark is that?"
Lash shrugged. "Just an observation."
Garrett made a sound that was half grunt, half growl. "Jessi ain't interested in Alan Loomis."
Now Jessi glared at her brother instead of Lash. "Who says I'm not?"
"Hell, Jess, he drinks. Everybody knows that. And when he drinks he gets ornery." Garrett steered around a deep-looking puddle. The wipers slapped in time with the conversation.
"Well, maybe I like 'em ornery."
Garrett's jaw twitched, and Lash thought he was grating his teeth behind his thin lips. "He's trouble. Understand, Jessi? Trouble. You stay away from him."
"Or what?" she snapped, eyes flashing fire.
"Or I'll break his arm off at the shoulder and beat him over the head with it, hon." For some reason, Garrett's words made Lash grimace. Too damned visual. "The guy's got a mean streak, and I don't aim to see it turned loose on you."
"Garrett Brand, I'm a grown woman, and it's high time you stop treating me like a little girl. I'll see any man I want, you understand? Sooner or later I'm gonna marry someone, and I hate to be the one to tell you this, honey, but you and the boys don't get the privilege of picking him out for me. You aren't going to have any say at all, matter of fact."
Garrett grimaced and pulled into the small space in front of the sheriff's office. Rain was streaming from the eaves like rivers. "I know you're a grown woman, and I know you're gonna see men. Hell, Jess, it's tough for me to see fellas looking at you … the way they been lately. But I'll get used to it, I suppose. Still and all, that doesn't mean I can stand by and watch you make a mistake that could get you hurt. Please, hon. Tell me you ain't carrying a torch for that Loomis fella. He ain't good enough for you."
"Then who is?" She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned back in the seat and stared straight through the window. "Let's see, what about his brothers? Richard or Keith?"
"Richard's lazy. He'll never amount to anything. And Keith's too young for you, Jessi. You know that."
She shook her head. "So what about Freddy Ortega?"
"Freddy? The bartender? C'mon, Jess, you can do better than—"
"Bobby Joe Hawthorne?" she asked, interrupting him.
"That fool? Gambles away every nickel he earns, and—"
"Sam Bonander?"
"Sam's a womanizer. You watch out for that—"
"Lash Monroe?" she shouted.
Garrett stopped talking and just gaped at her. Lash's throat went so dry he couldn't have swallowed if he tried. Then Garrett looked at him, almost accusingly, and then he looked back at his sister in disbelief.
"Lash is too old for you," Garrett said, very softly. "And besides that, he's a drifter. He's gonna be leaving here soon." He looked past her again, at Lash. "Right, Lash?"
"Right. Absolutely. I always hated being in one place for too long, and—"
"So basically, big brother, you've eliminated just about every single Quinn male between the ages of eighteen and eighty. What you're saying is that no man in this town is good enough for me, right? So maybe I should join a convent, or turn gay, or something."
"Jess!"
She turned her back to Lash to poke her brother in the chest with her forefinger. "Let me tell you something, Garrett Brand. No one is going to pick my man for me, because I've already picked one out all by myself. You aren't going to have anything to say about it."
"What man?" Garrett asked. "Who?"
She tossed her head, turned the other way, and poked Lash's chest, as well. "And neither are you!"
"Hey, I'm just along for the ride, Jessi! This isn't my fight."
"The hell it isn't," she muttered. Then she leaned across him, and she was warm and close and soft. Damn. But all she was doing was shoving his door open and glaring at him as she waited to be let out. He stared at her face in the glow of the dash lights, eyes flashing, cheeks red, lips parted. She was looking at him from underneath his too-big hat, her skin still rainwater fresh, and he thought he'd never known a woman who could compare. Not ever.
He got out, and held the door for her while the rain pummeled him. He couldn't take his eyes off her as she dashed to the front steps. He just stood there like an idiot, getting soaked to the skin.
Garrett tapped him on the shoulder, snapping him out of his little trance, and searched his face with a curious expression. Curious, and maybe a little bit worried.
Lash felt his face heat under Garrett's probing stare.
"Stop looking at me like that, Garrett. I don't have any more clue what she's talking about than you do."
"Yeah, well, let's hope it stays that way. Otherwise … you and I are gonna have some serious talkin' to do."
"Talking, huh?" Lash refrained from rubbing his nose as he recalled the last time Garrett Brand had felt "serious talkin'" was called for.
Garrett frowned at him one last time, and then gave his head a shake and lit out, racing through the deluge to the office door, where his sister stood waiting, sheltered by the eaves. Lash followed, and only got himself more thoroughly soaked for his trouble by the time he ducked inside behind the other two. He could hear the rain drumming against the roof and slashing over the windows. The wind had taken to howling like a banshee.
Garrett reached for the thermostat on one wall and cranked it up. The tiny furnace hidden away in the smal
l office-slash-jailhouse rattled and clanked to life, and in a few seconds Lash dared to peel off his yellow raincoat, shake some of the water off it and hang it on a hook near the door. Jessi and Garrett did likewise. Lash took the chance to venture up beside Jessi where she stood warming herself over, the baseboard register.
Garrett had plopped down behind the desk and put in a call to the nearest Ranger station, asking them to set up roadblocks and keep an eye out for cattle trucks with questionable manifests. He reached out to turn on his computer.
Jessi marched across the room, letting Lash have the heat all to himself while she reached out to turn the computer off.
"What the—"
"You big lug, you can't go using a PC during a thunderstorm," she told her brother.
"I have a surge protector," he countered, turning it on again.
"Which is useless against lightning," she said. "You get zapped and you'll be spending precious time shipping this thing off to be repaired."
Sighing heavily, Garrett switched the monitor off once more. "For a little chicken, you sure do a good job of playing the mother hen. Fine, you win. I'll do this the old-fashioned way." He reached for the file drawer, removed several folders, then armed himself with a pen.
"So what can I do to help?" Lash offered, stepping closer to the desk to see that the files were those on each rustling incident in the area over the past six months. Garrett was apparently going to review them.
Garrett divided the stack in half and handed one pile to Lash. "Gotta go over these cases until we know 'em by heart, Lash. There has to be something connecting them, some clue or something we're missing."
Lash nodded, pulled up a wooden chair and bent over the files. He sat on the opposite side of the desk from Garrett, and he read until his eyes burned.
Sometime later, the aroma of fresh coffee tickled his nostrils and made his mouth water. Jessi leaned over him to set a steaming mug down on the desk. She handed a second mug to her brother. Lash looked up at her, noting the damp spots on her shirt and the darker color of her jeans below the knees. Her hair had dried a little, but damn, she had to be freezing. He was chilled himself.
"Anything else I can do to help here?" she asked.
Before Garrett could answer, Jessi went on. "'Cause if there isn't, and it's all the same to you two, I'm thinkin' I'd just as soon head home."
"I don't think so, Jess." Garrett's tone was gentle, but his words didn't sit any better with his sister for that.
"Why not?" she asked. "I can send one of the boys back with your pickup, so it isn't like I'd be leaving you stranded. Elliot's been dying to get involved in this case, anyway. He'd be glad to come—"
"You won't be leaving me stranded, kiddo, 'cause you won't be leaving me at all. Not in this." Garrett nodded toward the nearest window. As if to punctuate his warning, the lightning chose that moment to flash again, and the thunderclap that followed shook the entire building.
"It's just a thunderstorm. Jeez, Garrett, I've driven in worse."
"If you have, this is the first I've heard of it."
"Surprise, big brother—I don't tell you everything."
He glared. She glared right back.
"Garrett, I have so much to do. Lists to make, supplies to order—"
Sighing hard, Garrett shook his head. Then he looked at Lash, who felt like a spectator at a close boxing match. "You mind running her home for me, Lash?"
Jessi sputtered, as if to argue, then bit her lower lip as if to halt the words from coming forth. And Lash knew damn well she was furious at her brother for thinking she needed a chaperon to get home safely. Which made him wonder why she'd bitten back her fury.
She slid a sideways glance at Lash, and he could see the wheels turning behind those cunning, sexy-as-hell eyes. What was she up to?
"Oh, all right," she finally said. "If you insist, Garrett, I'll let Lash drive me home."
Garrett had noticed the change in her attitude, as well, it seemed, because he narrowed his eyes on her, then shifted his meaningful gaze to Lash. "Take my truck, see she gets safely inside, and then meet me back here. Shouldn't take you more than—" he glanced at his watch "—an hour. At the most."
Lash nodded, getting the full gist of the man's message. No pulling off the road into some secluded, rain-veiled glen for a little one-on-one with Garrett's baby sister. Right. As if he needed that warning.
"Forty-five minutes, tops," Lash said, taking the keys from Garrett's outstretched hand.
Jessi stood looking from one to the other, and if Lash wasn't mistaken, the best word for the look she sent them was glower.
Lash went to the hook near the door and retrieved their yellow vinyl slickers. He handed one to Jessi and pulled the other over his head, poncho-style. It was still damp, and he winced at the chill.
With a final nod to Garrett, Lash dropped his hat on his head, reached out to yank Jessi's hood up so that it covered hers, opened the door and made a dash for the pickup. When he jumped in behind the wheel and slammed his door, Jessi was already clambering in the other side and slamming hers. Quick as a fox and twice as clever, he thought, turning the key, switching on the headlights and wipers. Then he watched her push her yellow hood down and swipe the droplets from her face with a delicate brush of her hand. She missed some. Her lashes still glistened with a diamond or two. The dash lights made them glow magically, made him want to kiss them away…
"Lash, you gonna sit there looking at me all night, or drive? I'm sure Garrett's set some kind of timer by now."
Lash blinked, cleared his throat, then tore his gaze away from her. He shifted the truck into reverse and backed carefully out of the parking space. There was no traffic in town tonight. The weather had worsened dramatically while they'd been inside going over files. Even though a while ago, Lash wouldn't have thought it could get much worse. Only a lunatic would be out in this nasty weather. He had to drive slowly, and even then he could barely see. God, he hadn't realized it from inside Garrett's safe, dry office, but the storm was probably the most severe he'd ever seen. The rain came down in sheets over the windshield. The wipers, slapping at their highest speed were barely effective at all.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered.
"Oh, I don't know. I think it's kinda nice," she said. She reached out a hand and flicked the radio on, fiddling with the buttons until a slow country song came wafting in to fill the space between them. Didn't seem to bother her in the least that the song was interrupted by crackling static with every flash of lightning. He could feel her eyes on him. But he didn't dare look at her. And it wasn't just because he was afraid to take his eyes off the road.
"It's getting worse," he announced, though he was sure she could see that perfectly well without being told. Lightning split the sky, and the radio crackled again before returning to its crooning melody.
"You can always pull off and wait for it to let up a little," she suggested.
Yeah, right. That would be brilliant. Take little Jessi Brand out parking in a thunderstorm. He kept driving. It took fifteen minutes to leave the town behind them, and the weather only worsened. He realized a short while later that he'd have been better off listening to her, because at least then they'd have been in town, with houses nearby, and maybe a phone to call Garrett from. Now they were on the long, deserted, muddy stretch of road that led back to the ranch, creeping along at a snail's pace. He glanced at his watch's luminous dial and groaned inwardly. Thirty minutes had passed. He wasn't going to make Garrett's deadline. Lord knew what the big cowboy would be thinking.
They approached the tiny bridge that spanned the usually small and slow-running creek. Lash noted with alarm that the water was high, way higher than normal, and way higher than it had been a couple of hours ago, when they drove in. He slowed the truck even further.
"It'll be fine," she said. "That bridge has held up during flooding before."
"You sure?" he asked.
"Sure I'm sure. Just go over it quickly. Gun it, Las
h."
He stepped down on the accelerator, and the pickup lurched forward onto the surface of the bridge. Then Jessi screamed, "Stop!"
He jammed the brakes in a knee-jerk reaction to her shout, and looked at her to ask what the hell she was shouting about. But Jessi was already jumping out of the truck. Lash was baffled until he looked through the windshield again. There, huddled right in the center of the bridge, was a shivering, dripping-wet animal that appeared to be mostly made of rainwater and brown legs. Rolling his eyes and cussing, Lash got out of the truck, as well. Rain pounded him, and rivers of it ran down the sides of the poncho he wore, soaking his jeans and his boots in a matter of seconds. When he reached Jess, she was slowly creeping closer to the trembling fawn. She reached out for it, but it sprang to its spindly legs and stumbled backward, eyes wide, rainwater rolling from its sides. Jessi held out her hands. "Easy, now. Are you hurt, little one? Or just cold and afraid? There now. I'm not gonna hurt you."
Lash came up slowly beside her, and wanted to scold her for jumping out in the rain like that, but he couldn't. She was too beautiful, even dripping-wet. The fawn had stopped retreating now. Its white-spotted coat twitched as it shivered, though, and the animal stared with eyes huge and afraid.
Those big brown eyes were heartbreaking.
"She's beautiful," Jess was saying. "Oh, yes, you are. You're beautiful."
"Prettiest drowned rat I've ever seen," Lash said. He had to speak loudly to be heard over the rain, and the animal flinched in response to his voice. "Let's just grab her and put her in the truck, Jess, and get out of here."
She nodded, but just as she stepped close enough to make a grab at the fawn, the animal's head came up and turned to the right. Its delicate ears perked forward, and its baby-size tail flashed up straight. It whirled and ran gracefully off the bridge, disappearing into the rain-drenched woods on the far side. Jessi squinted off in the direction it had gone, then pointed, smiling. Lash saw the flash of a larger tail running along beside the little one. Nodding, he met Jessi's eyes. "Looks like she found her mama," he said. He took her arm, turning her toward the pickup. Then he paused, because there was a roar in his ears. Different from the howl of the wind, and definitely not thunder. "What the—"
The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 7
