“Yes! Please. I’d kill for dry clothes and a cup of hot coffee right now.”
Brady swung a leg over the ATV and turned the ignition key. The engine whined and sputtered. “Come on! Start, damn it!”
Kara’s chest tightened with dread. If the engine didn’t start...
She cast a wary eye to the sky. Though the rain had slowed considerably, the low-hanging silver clouds moving in promised sharply colder air. Already her breath formed a white cloud when she exhaled. Her exposed toes were red and numb, and she knew she was in danger of getting frostbite if they were still here when darkness fell.
She clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. Please, God. Let the engine s— Before she finished her silent plea, the ATV roared to life, and Brady revved the engine to warm it up. Finally something had gone right!
Brady jerked his head toward the ATV seat, hurrying her. “Climb on. Let’s get outta here.”
She didn’t need to be told twice. Straddling the seat behind him, she clutched the emergency blanket in her fists and put her arms around Brady’s chest, below his arms. He drew the loose ends of the blanket over his lap and tucked them under his legs.
With her chest nestled against his back and the blanket providing a barrier at her back, they set out. Despite the wind created as they sped across the rugged terrain, Kara savored a pocket of warmth under the emergency blanket. The cold air stung her eyes, so she buried her face in Brady’s neck. She couldn’t wait to get home and fix a fire in her fireplace. She’d drink a giant mug of peppermint hot chocolate with marshmallows, calories be damned, and cocoon herself in her grandmother’s old Christmas quilt. A grin tugged the corners of her mouth, her frozen cheeks twitching at the prospect of warmth and the sweet treat.
Several minutes into the ride home, she peeked up to gauge how far they had to go. She could see the red barn of the Wheeler Ranch still a good distance away, and when she scanned the surrounding terrain, she spotted something else that tugged her conscience. She squinted to make sure she was seeing what she thought. The gray mare was standing across the rolling plains about a mile from them.
“Brady!” She jostled him and aimed a finger in the opposite direction of the ranch. Shouting to be heard over the engine, she said, “I have to bring her back. Take me to her.”
He slowed to a stop so that they could talk over the noise of the ATV. “We can send someone out after her when we get back.”
“No.” She tightened her grip on him. “I took her. I need to bring her back.”
Brady glanced over his shoulder at her. “While I respect your sense of honor and responsibility, our priority needs to be getting to the sheriff’s department.”
“Brady—”
“Do you even have the strength to ride? You could barely stand a few minutes ago.”
“I’ve had time to rest, and I’ve warmed up a little bit.” She paused, considering the reality of his question. “If you help me get on her, I can ride her back to the ranch. It’s not that far.”
“Kara, we need to—”
“I can do it, Brady! I need to make this right. It’s my fault...” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Please, just take me to her.”
He turned his gaze back to the mare and huffed a sigh. “All right. But I’m following you back to the ranch. As soon as we can turn her over to one of the Wheelers’ hands, you’re coming with me to the station to make a statement and give a description of the shooter.”
Brady turned the ATV and headed toward the horse. Once they’d untied the restless mare’s reins, Kara positioned herself beside the horse, one hand on the saddle horn. “Can I get a boost?”
Brady moved up behind her, stooping to lift her as she swung onto the saddle. Tired though she was, having his hands splayed on her, his intimate grip on her thighs and bottom, sent a prickle of lust to her core. Her leg muscles quivered as she mounted the mare, and not entirely because of fatigue and cold.
He frowned at her exposed legs and rubbed his palms briskly over her red, chapped skin. “Damn, Kara. Look at you! What happened to the rest of your dress? I could’ve sworn it was longer.”
“I made alterations before I swam over to get you. I didn’t want my legs getting tangled up in all that extra material.”
His face darkened, and he opened his mouth as if to comment on her alterations or her rescue but snapped his mouth closed. Instead he said, “I’ll be right behind you if you change your mind.”
With a nod, she snapped the reins and set off, guiding the mare back toward the Wheeler Ranch. She focused on the bright red barn with its Texas flag. The barn’s roof had been trimmed with white Christmas lights that glowed like a beacon in the gloomy weather.
But as she rode nearer the barn, a chest-constricting dread swamped her. Had they found the shooter? Would the man be lying in wait for her? She inhaled a shallow breath trying to calm the skittering of nerves. Brady said he’d left his deputies in charge of securing the scene. Even if the sniper hadn’t been caught, the man would have to be crazy to stick around the crime scene. Surely the shooter was long gone. Though that made her feel better about returning to the Wheeler Ranch, a suspect in the wind was bad for Brady as sheriff...and the community. A sniper loose in Rusted Spur? Her gut roiled. She hated the idea of Brady leading the search for a killer.
And as Brady’s only eyewitness, she would be his best shot at identifying the man.
She gripped the reins tighter and whispered a prayer. “Please, let the man be in custody already. Please, let this be over!”
Chapter 5
“No dice, boss. We’ve questioned everyone that was at the wedding. No one saw anybody suspicious, and after the shots were fired, everyone was just trying to get to safety,” Wilhite said.
Brady muttered an expletive and shifted the cell phone he’d borrowed from a ranch hand from one ear to the other. “Casualties?”
“One. George Wheeler was hit and got airlifted to the trauma center in Lubbock. Nate and April have driven to over to be with him.” Brady recalled the garbled call he’d made to Nate earlier.
While he was relieved to hear April was all right, he hated knowing that George Wheeler’s condition was grave enough to need an airlift to a trauma center. “So April and Nate have gone to the hospital?”
Hearing half the conversation, Kara gasped and whirled toward him. “What? Were they shot? Is it April’s baby? What—”
He held up a hand and gave a quick head shake to calm her while Wilhite said, “A few other folks had minor injuries as they scurried for cover.”
Kara continued to stare anxiously, waiting for answers.
“And you have no leads yet on who the shooter was or where he is?” Having turned the mare over to the hands and given them directions where to find Rooster, Brady placed a hand at the small of Kara’s back to escort her out of the Wheelers’ stable. They each had a blanket draped around their shoulders, but horse blankets were a poor substitute for dry clothes and a hot meal. Food and a shower would have to wait until he’d found the shooter.
“We’re working a few leads,” Wilhite said. “I’ll fill you in when you get here.”
“I’m on my way. Meantime, tell area agencies to be on the lookout for a white male in his forties, about five foot ten, military haircut, brown eyes, dark hair, wide flat nose and a mole or birthmark...” He sent Kara a querying glance, and she tapped her right cheekbone. “Under his right eye.”
Wilhite read the description back to him for confirmation.
“Oh, and I need you to send someone to Kara Pearson’s house. Make sure nothing’s out of order there. Have the officer bring dry clothes for her. The key is under the flowerpot at the end of her porch.” He heard Wilhite grunt in disapproval and arched an eyebrow at Kara when she scowled at him. “And, yes, I’ve told her such a clichéd hiding place is asking to be robbed, but she contends Rusted Spur is a safe town, and she needs a hidden key for emergencies.”
“I have a better idea. Take me h
ome to change before we go to the sheriff’s department,” Kara said. “Besides getting dry clothes, I have to feed Jerry.”
He arched an eyebrow in query.
“My new cat. A rescue.”
Of course. Kara and her animals...
He held up a hand to quiet her as he continued instructing Wilhite. “I also need a replacement phone. Mine is somewhere in a washed-out arroyo a few miles from the Wheeler Ranch. The department should have one I can use until I can get a personal replacement.”
Exiting the main alley of the stable, Kara stopped walking and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at him.
Ignoring her pout, he finished his business with Wilhite, adding, “And have the officer that goes to Kara’s check on her cat.” He shot her a look that asked, Satisfied? “We should be there in five minutes. Get an artist in ASAP. I want Kara to help us create a composite of the shooter when we get there.” He handed the borrowed phone back to the hand, who’d followed them to the stable door, and met Kara’s gaze. “What’s that look for?”
“I can’t even go home for a hot shower and change of clothes?”
“Not when we have a violent criminal in the area. Finding the sniper trumps everything else, including our personal comfort. Time is of the essence in locating this guy, and he already has a four-hour lead on us.” He paused and looked her up and down with a dent in his brow. “Unless you need to see a doctor. Do you have any injuries you haven’t mentioned? Any lasting effects from our dunk in the water or the cold?”
She shook her head. “I’m okay now. A warm building, hot coffee and dry clothes are all I need.” When he gave her a skeptical look, she added with a sassy grin, “You can trust me on this. After all, I work for a doctor.”
“A doctor for horses and cows.”
“Close enough.”
“In that case, we’re going to the station.” He took her by the arm, tugging her forward as he marched across the muddy ranch yard toward his F-250.
She jerked her arm from his grasp. “And who died and made you the boss of me?”
Brady faced her, his jaw tight and his hands balled at his sides. “I’m the boss of you, because I’m the sheriff of this town, and you are my key witness to a felony crime. Do I need to take you into custody or are you going to come willingly?”
Kara snorted and shook her head. “Of course, you don’t care what I want. Your job is all that matters. It was ten months ago, and it is now.”
Needles of irritation prodded him. “What are you talking about? I care about what you want.”
“Unless it conflicts with what you want. Namely, your position as sheriff. Right?”
Brady goggled at her. “Really? For months I’ve been trying to talk to you about us and what you want, and you’ve avoided me. But now—when there’s a sniper to track down, when we are both freezing cold, hungry and exhausted—now you want to argue about your issues with my job?”
“My issues?” she hissed. “You make it sound like it’s all my fault! That I’m being a whining prima donna or something!”
“I didn’t say—” Brady cut himself off as a biting gust of wind cut through his wet clothes and sent a chill to his core. He sucked in a deep, calming breath. “Look, I want to have this conversation. Really, I do. But not now. Right now, we need to get to the sheriff’s department and do all we can to catch the guy that shot at our friends and put Nate’s father in the hospital.”
Contrition and grief washed over her face, and her shoulders sagged.
“So are you coming willingly, or do I have to take you into custody?”
Holding her blanket closed with one hand, Kara blew warm breath on her free hand and sent him a disgruntled look. “I’m coming.” As she strode past him, she grumbled quietly, “Your Majesty.”
* * *
Gray dusky light filled the sky as they pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot, and Kara experienced an unsettling sense of déjà vu. She’d arrived at the sheriff’s department about this same time of evening on the day her father drowned, and she’d been forced to give her account of what happened for the official report. The small beige brick building that housed the sheriff’s department hadn’t changed much in the sixteen years since her father’s death. Nor had the sense of dread and grief knotting her gut. Being back here revived all her memories and emotions from that day, as if the intervening years had never happened.
Only the man sitting beside her was different. Yet having nearly lost Brady today in the same manner in which she’d lost her father added another layer to the eerie and upsetting familiarity of her return to the utilitarian one-story building and cracked pavement parking lot.
Brady grabbed his gym bag from the back seat, then escorted her inside. He held the front door for her and signaled to the first deputy he saw. “Anderson, we need two large cups of hot coffee ASAP and bring Kara whatever she wants to eat.”
His side glance asked her to fill in that blank.
“Uh, just a hamburger is fine.”
Returning his attention to the deputy, he said, “Make it two...no, three burgers from Tumbleweeds. No onions, extra mustard and sweet potato fries.”
Kara blinked her surprise as Brady reeled off her usual customized order. Remembering how she liked her hamburger wasn’t a difficult thing, yet she was moved by his thoughtfulness all the same.
An older woman with her gray hair in a bun walked into the reception area from a back room. “Afternoon, sheriff. Heard you had a rough time today.” She handed him a cell phone. “You asked for a new phone?”
“Yes. Thank you, Earlene.” He took the phone and swiped the screen. The battery needed charging, but it was functional.
“You got lucky. The week before Christmas, this was the last one on the shelf at E-Mart.”
Earlene turned to Kara and smiled. “Hi, Kara, dear. Are you all right, honey?”
“I’ll live.”
Earlene had worked in the department when Kara’s father had been a deputy, and as the wife to a rancher, the older woman was a frequent customer at the large animal veterinary clinic where Kara was an assistant.
Brady waggled the new phone. “Make sure everyone in the department has this new number.” He gave the older woman a wink of appreciation as he ushered Kara down the hall to an interrogation room, and she took a seat at the small scarred table. “I’m going to change and see if Wilhite’s found you dry clothes. I’ll be right back.”
Before he left, he turned up the thermostat, and she grinned, remembering her father telling her how he used to hike up the temperature in the interrogation room to make suspects sweat—literally. Just being inside, out of the cold, damp air, was blissful, and she salivated, thinking about the coffee and burger on the way.
“Somebody round up some towels or a blanket for Kara,” she heard Brady shout down the hall. “And where’s the sketch artist I asked for?”
Kara closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. As horrid as the memory was, she needed to conjure up the face of the shooter, search her recollection for distinguishing marks, eye color, clothing...anything that could help Brady and his deputies track down the man who’d opened fire at the wedding.
Her mind drifted to Nate and April. She knew they were safe, but Brady had said Nate’s father had been shot and was critical. Such a dark stain on what should have been their happiest day!
Deputy Anderson entered the interrogation room and set a large Styrofoam cup and a few sugar packets in front of her. “I’m afraid we’re out of creamer.”
She shook her head in dismissal, even though she typically liked a generous amount of milk in her coffee. “This is fine. Thanks.”
“Sheriff McCall asked me to get started taking your statement. He’ll join us in a minute.”
“Sheriff McCall? So formal, Burt. Have you forgotten I nearly married the man?”
The deputy smiled. “I haven’t forgotten. But the boss likes everything by the book and professional, so there’s no troub
le down the line with the prosecution.”
She grunted. By the book. That was so Brady. “I understand.”
“The artist will be here in about twenty minutes, but for now, can you give me an account of what happened today at the Wheeler Ranch? You were attending the wedding, correct?”
“That’s right.”
“Did you see anything or anyone that seemed out of place or suspicious as you arrived?”
“No.” She shook her head. “Honestly, I was looking for Brady. I really didn’t notice much else.”
Anderson arched an eyebrow as if her admission was an intriguing bit of gossip.
He led her through questions about what she remembered from the start of the ceremony up to the point where she left for the barn.
Brady came in before she could answer, wearing a clean, long-sleeved Mavericks T-shirt and blue jeans. Before he took a seat across from her, he placed four half-and-half creamers next to her coffee.
She raised a startled glance to him. “I thought y’all were out of creamer.”
He smiled and put a finger over his lips. “Shh. Those are from my private stash. Don’t tell anyone, or I’ll be forced to share.”
Deputy Anderson scoffed and gave Brady a disgruntled look. “Private stash, huh?”
“You heard nothing. Carry on.” He nodded toward the notepad where Anderson wrote her answers.
While the deputy glanced down to find his place, Kara ripped open the first of the four creamers. Exactly four. Just as she liked.
“So you left the ceremony and entered the barn. Why?”
“Because... I thought it would be quiet. Private.”
“No,” Deputy Anderson said, “I mean why did you leave the ceremony before it was over?”
Kara paused in the act of dumping her last creamer in her coffee. Her gaze flew to Brady, and her hand trembled. “Because I...needed air. I...was upset.”
“What had upset you?” Anderson pushed.
Her mouth dried as she held Brady’s intense blue stare. His eyes echoed Anderson’s question, and her throat, her voice felt paralyzed. How did she admit to Brady that he still held her heart in his hands? That leaving him was the most difficult thing she’d ever done, and not a day went by that she didn’t question her sanity for having given him up?
Cowboy Christmas Rescue Page 6
