Rancher's Covert Christmas

by Beth Cornelison

  Michael waved her in and motioned to a chair. Erin sat, cleared her throat and said, “If it’s all right, I’d like to go with you when you take the herd to auction.” She didn’t know what she’d thought she’d learn about the sabotage on the trip, but knowing how important the one day was made her curious to experience this part of ranch life. Of Zane’s life.

  “Sure. Tag along. We may even find a job for you.”

  Sadie tapped Michael’s elbow again with her white-toed paw and gave a tiny, kittenish meow. The McCall patriarch glanced at the cat and resumed scratching her head with a chuckle for the feline’s persistence. But Michael’s smile didn’t erase the worry that shadowed his gaze.

  “So...what happens if you can’t make it to the auction because of weather or—” She didn’t finish the question. The stricken look on Michael’s face made her worry about his blood pressure.

  “We can’t miss sale day. Cannot. Period.” His tone was so grave, so determined, a shiver rippled through her.

  “Is there anything I can do now to help?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Pray.”

  * * *

  “Zane, wait up!” Erin called across the ranch yard.

  Zane’s steps faltered, and, his heart in his throat, he glanced back at her. He’d managed to avoid Erin most of the last couple days, burying himself in the work of prepping for the trip to auction, but she’d never been far from his mind. Get over it, he told himself whenever he thought of what could have been. Get over her. She’d proven herself untrustworthy, breaking his heart just as he’d warned himself she would. The sooner he forgot about her and moved on with his life the better.

  He acknowledged her summons with a nod as he headed into the garage to retrieve one of the ATVs. He wanted to make one last trip to check for strays in the far pasture. Call him obsessive, but they needed every single head of cattle sent to auction this year.

  “Can we talk?” she called.

  “About?”

  “Cows. Turnips. Aliens. I don’t care,” she said as she approached. “I haven’t seen much of you in the last day or two and—”

  “That was intentional,” he intoned flatly.

  She hesitated. “Oh, so you’re still mad at me?”

  He lifted one eyebrow in reply and tugged open the door to the garage, stamping snow off his feet as he entered. He raised a hand toward the light switch...and paused, sniffing the air. Even over the odor of motor oil, mud and hay that normally scented the garage, he detected an odd smell that sent a tingle up his spine. He’d worked with enough injured animals to know blood when he smelled it. And the odors that accompanied death.

  Erin caught up with him then, bringing a fresh blast of wintry air in with her as she swept into the garage. “Look, I get that you’re mad. But I’ve apologized for lying to you, and I’d hoped we could at least be friends. Your dad has given me the okay to accompany you all to the auction, and I was hoping we could use the time on the drive to... I don’t know. Sort things out between us?”

  He shook himself from the strange trance that had seized him and flipped on the light.

  Nothing looked out of place, but the foul smell was distinct.

  “Do you smell that?” he asked her. “It smells like...blood.”

  She took a deep whiff. “All I smell is oil and the usual ranch odors.”

  He moved forward, glancing around for the source of the odor.

  “Do you see anything?” She sniffed again as she cast her gaze toward the parked vehicles.

  Zane continued deeper into the garage, looking under trucks and behind boxes as he made his way across the floor. When he bent to peer under the F-350, he spotted a coffee can on the ground under the engine. He reached under and dragged the can out, finding it full of pale yellow fluid. Brake fluid most likely. Damn it! A major leak by the looks of it, but not the source of the smell.

  “What’s that?” Erin stood over him, staring at the coffee can with a frown.

  “Trouble. Brake fluid leak.” He handed her the can. “Will you hold this while I look under the hood?” He pushed up from the ground, dusting off his hands and making a mental note to tell Roy about the brake line leak. It’d have to be repaired pronto, so they could use the truck to haul the herd tomorrow. He prayed it didn’t mean a huge delay.

  He propped the hood open and used the flashlight function on his cell phone to find the brake line. The cut was long and obvious.

  Slamming his fist on the truck frame, he bit out a curse.

  “Zane? What is it?”

  He nudged the slit line. “More sabotage. Brakes were cut.”

  Erin’s eyes widened, and she leaned closer for a better look. “Oh, my God. If you hadn’t found that... If someone had tried to drive the truck...”

  He pressed his mouth in a grim line and tapped the auto-dial number to call Roy.

  “Should I go get your father?” she asked. “And the sheriff needs to be called.”

  He sighed his resignation. Jerked a nod of agreement.

  Hell and damnation! This was the last thing they needed the day before they left for auction. His mind was already ticking through the contingencies if the truck wasn’t repaired in time. Rent a truck? Borrow one from another ranch?

  Zane paced the floor while Roy’s line rang. When the foreman answered, he sounded groggy.

  “Roy, we have a problem with the F-350. I need you in the garage ASAP to work on replacing the brake line.”

  Zane spotted a red smear on the floor and caught his breath, pulled up short.

  Roy mumbled something in reply, but Zane couldn’t make out the words over the sudden buzzing in his ears. He’d found the source of the odd smell. As he neared the smear, he found more blood staining the floor behind the truck. And what looked like drag marks.

  “Erin?” he said numbly.

  He heard her receding footsteps stop. “Yeah?”

  He visually followed the trail of smeared blood to a pile of boxes in a corner. A large tarpaulin was draped over the discarded boxes. He swallowed hard, seeing a foot peeking out from the tarp. “Call for an ambulance, too.”

  “What?” Concern sharpened her voice, and she jogged over to join him.

  Zane crossed slowly to the tarpaulin, his gut knotted, his breath still in his lungs.

  Over the thud of his heartbeat echoing in his skull, he heard Erin approach, gasp.

  With a shaking hand, he drew back the heavy cloth, and bile surged in his throat.

  Helen lay with her head at an unnatural angle, bruises on her throat.

  He reached for her neck, searching for a carotid artery pulse. Praying. Maybe...

  Erin mewled in fear. “Is she—?”

  Grief slashed to his marrow as he withdrew his fingers from her neck, and his body sagged. “She’s dead.”

  Chapter 13

  Erin watched in numb disbelief as the coroner’s van pulled away from the ranch, carrying Helen to the morgue. Investigating the sabotage at the ranch was one thing; discovering the murdered victim of the saboteur’s escalating menace was quite another. She had met and liked Helen, a young woman in love, with so much life ahead of her.

  She cast a glance to Dave, who stared, zombie-like, at the departing coroner. His features were drawn, pale, shocked. Her heart ached for the cowboy. While she knew what it was like to lose someone you loved to tragedy, she imagined losing the person you’d wanted to spend the rest of your life with was a special kind of hell.

  Her heart gave a painful throb, remembering Zane’s anger and distance since he’d learned her true purpose at the ranch. A deep ache filled her chest and sucked all the air from her lungs. Maybe she did have some inkling of the hurt of losing someone she loved. Her relationship with Zane hadn’t progressed to the point of promised matrimony, but knowing she’d lost what had promised to be a once-in-a-lifetime l
ove with him stung. Like a jagged gash in her flesh. Drenched in alcohol.

  She hugged herself against the stiff cold wind and searched for Zane among the faces gathered in the ranch yard. There. Standing beside his sister. He had his arm around Piper’s shoulders as she wept into her hands. As if he sensed her attention, Zane angled his head toward Erin. His gaze locked with hers, and his face filled with heartbreaking pain. She took a step toward him, wanting, needing, to offer him the same consolation and support he was lending his sister. But no sooner had she started toward him than his expression hardened. Stiffening, he turned away.

  Tears formed in her eyes, and gritting her back teeth, she battled them down. Now was not the time to indulge in self-pity. She needed to stay in control of her emotions and to do the job she was being paid to do. This was a key moment in her investigation. She should be observing the family and employees with dispassion and a professional eye. Had the murderer returned to the scene of the crime?

  For example, where was Brady? Why was he not the one comforting Piper?

  The blue and red strobes of the light bar atop the sheriff’s vehicles cast an eerie pall in the gathering night. She edged toward Michael, who sat on the tailgate of Zane’s truck, wearing a stricken countenance.

  “I’m so sorry, Michael,” she said, sitting down beside him. “I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

  He nodded without looking at her. “She was...so young.”

  Erin put a hand on Michael’s shoulder and said nothing for several moments. “Have you seen Brady? Zane is across the way with Piper, but I don’t see Brady.”

  Michael didn’t react at first, as if shock had gummed the wheels in his mind, slowing his ability to focus and process.

  She remembered that feeling well. Your brother has been killed in a tragic accident on campus. She’d walked around in a stupor for days after Sean died.

  Michael’s brow lowered, and he gave her a dark look. “You’re not thinking Brady did this? He’d never hurt a woman!”

  “I’m not saying he did this.” She held her tongue, not bothering to remind him that his bias and affinity for the people on the Double M were the reason he’d hired her to investigate the recent crimes. Nor did she add stones to his weighted view of his son-in-law by telling him that she agreed with his assessment. Everything she knew of Brady, her observations of his patience and skill with the herd, his dedication to his family and her take-away from interviewing him, composed a picture of a humble, loyal, loving man. A tough cowboy, but not a killer.

  Michael’s tense face relaxed, and he blinked. “Oh. I, uh, think he’s in the main house with Melissa. They’re trying to keep Connor away from the scene...and comforting him.”

  Of course.

  “Connor was close to Helen,” Michael added softly, and she squeezed his shoulder. “She babysat for him a good bit when he first came to live at the ranch.”

  A deputy approached, and she could feel Michael tense beneath her comforting touch.

  “Mr. McCall, may I speak to you?” The deputy gave Erin a hooded glance. “Alone?”

  She recognized him as the officer she’d scolded for his approach to the scene when Dave broke his leg, and judging by his scowl, he remembered her, as well. Erin nodded and scooted down from the tailgate.

  At loose ends, she surveyed the somber scene and considered where she could be the most use. Staying busy would help her keep her own grief and frustrating sense of helplessness at bay.

  Zane was still comforting his sister. Josh and Kate had moved up next to Dave, though they appeared as shell-shocked as the injured hand. As she studied Dave, she saw his crutches wobble, and he swayed. He was about to collapse. She sprinted toward Dave, shouting, “Josh! Catch him!”

  Josh’s reflexes had been honed in his high-adrenaline sports, and he snagged Dave under the arms before the ranch hand hit the ground. “Whoa, partner!”

  “Dave!” Kate hurried over to him. “You should go back inside. Get in bed.”

  “Helen...” Dave moaned, and his shoulders began shaking as the tears broke.

  Josh and Kate exchanged a look, and Josh hoisted Dave onto his crutches. “Come on, man. Let’s go inside.”

  Kate and Josh helped Dave hobble back into the house, flanking him, supporting him, comforting him.

  Erin watched them go for a moment then cast another glance over the mourning family members and the sheriff’s deputies, who also looked shell-shocked as they worked the scene. And why not? They were law enforcement professionals, but they were also human. Citizens of the small town who’d, no doubt, known Helen.

  A clatter from inside the garage drew her attention, and she headed that direction. The back corner of the garage was marked off with yellow tape as a crime scene, and she gave that area a wide berth. She discovered the source of the noise as she approached the F-350.

  Roy was leaning over the engine of the truck, busy working on the brake line.

  “Roy?”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Miss Palmer.”

  “What are you doing?” She’d asked the question in almost a rhetorical way. She knew he was repairing the truck, but his timing...

  Roy moved to lie on his back and scooted under the truck to continue working. “Michael needs this truck ready in the morning, so I’m fixing the brakes.”

  She shook her head, startled a bit by his response. “Surely Helen’s death means... Will they really still go to the auction considering...?”

  “No choice,” he said in clipped tones from under the truck. “Gotta get the herd to auction.”

  She was staggered by the reality that even a death, a murder on the ranch grounds, wouldn’t prevent them from making the trip in the morning. Then she thought of Michael’s grave expression when talking about the importance of the auction. The whole year boiled down to one paycheck...

  “Roy?”

  He didn’t answer. Erin sighed, wondering if she should offer to help him repair the truck. She knew nothing about engines or brakes but maybe she could hand him tools or—

  A sob broke into her thoughts, and Roy said softly, “She was such a s-sweet girl. She didn’t...deserve to die. She didn’t—”

  So he wasn’t unmoved by Helen’s death. Erin knelt by Roy’s legs and put a hand on his ankle. She heard him sniff, clear his throat.

  “I’m sorry. I...” He drew a shaky breath.

  “Don’t apologize. You need to grieve. It’s healthy.” And everyone dealt with pain and grief differently. Some people, like her mother and, apparently, like Roy, needed to stay busy. Bury themselves in work. Try to keep the horrible awfulness at arm’s length.

  “Would you like some help, Roy? I can be your gofer or just keep you company or—”

  “No.” She heard his heavy sigh. “I’d...rather be alone.” She heard the clank of tools as he got back to work. “I’m almost finished here.”

  She hesitated, then pushed to her feet. “All right.”

  Erin glanced warily toward the bloodstains on the garage floor, and her gut knotted. What had happened? Why was Helen killed? Her instincts told her it was connected to the sabotage, but she was a long way from proving that theory. Did Helen’s death mean she was closer to finding the vandal? The murderer, she amended with a chill. Or had the case just taken a tragic and obscure turn that meant she had to start from scratch with her investigation?

  Erin left the garage just as the sheriff’s forensic team pulled up the driveway. She wanted to stay and watch the evidence collection, but the deputy in charge directed the family to leave the scene while the forensic team worked.

  “You heard the man,” Michael called, squaring his shoulders as if preparing for battle. “Let them work. We all have our own work to do. We load up at sunrise.”

  Chapter 14

  As morning broke over the horizon, Zane joined his
family in loading the heard into two trailers, the larger rented livestock trailer hooked to the F-350 held most of the cattle, and a smaller trailer was hitched to Josh’s truck and held the calves.

  As soon as the herd was prepped for travel, his dad and Brady had left for the auction grounds to handle last-minute details before the stock arrived. Zane, Josh and Roy were following with the herd. The roads were mostly clear, but there had been reports of icy spots on the mountain road they had to travel. They’d need to go slow and take extra care on the curvy highway.

  Erin arrived in the ranch yard as he settled in the F-350. She appeared at the passenger window as he was buckling up for the ride.

  He cracked open his door to see what she wanted.

  “You’re riding here?” she said. “I’d hoped we could talk on the drive over.”

  He frowned at her. “You’re going with us?”

  She gave him a funny, awkward smile. “I told you that yesterday when—” She stopped and scrubbed a hand on her chin. “Well, right before we found Helen. I guess I can understand why you forgot.”

  Roy climbed in behind the wheel and put a large steaming cup of coffee in the cup holder. “Ready?”

  Zane nodded. “Let’s hit it.” Turning back to Erin, he said, “Ride with Josh if you insist on going. I’m sure he’d love the company.”

  “But—”

  His heart twisted when he saw the disappointment that shadowed her face. But he wasn’t ready to talk to her about anything, much less their dissolved relationship. His emotions were raw after finding Helen murdered, and the auction had his nerves strung taut. He had enough to deal with today, thank you.

  Roy cranked the engine.

  “See you at the sale barn,” Zane said and closed his door.

  As they pulled slowly down the driveway, he watched in the truck’s side mirror as she stared after them, her expression wounded. Did she really think he could trust her again enough to build a relationship after the way she’d lied and deceived him? And knowing how much her deception had hurt, did he even want to try?