The Spy Wore Spurs

by Dana Marton

  Shock crossed her face. Then she kicked him in the shin, hard, before she marched away.

  “Grace,” he called after her. “It’s not like that. Let me explain.” He went after her.

  She slowed for a second, which gave him hope, but she only reached into her pockets for his car keys and flung them at his head. Then she marched right into her house and slammed the door in his face.

  “I was just trying to be honest,” he shouted after her as a radio came on inside, full blast, an upbeat country song about a woman walking all over men in her cowboy boots.

  He tried again. “What I meant was that as much as I like you, I’m not available that way.”

  No response came. She probably didn’t hear a word he said.

  He licked the taste of her from his bottom lip, registered again the definite trace of tequila and strawberries, her flowery soap scent still in his nose. She’d had a bath and a drink at the Rogerses’ ranch.

  The urge to break down the door and demand an explanation was overpowering. Not that he was a jealous man. Not once, ever before.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. She had him turned inside out so badly, he had no idea anymore what kind of man he was, or what he really wanted.

  He turned on his heels and strode to his car, shouting out over his shoulders as he went. “I will be back. We will talk. This is not over. And stay away from Dylan Rogers!”

  The music stopped; a window flew open. “I was visiting with his sister, Molly!” The window slammed shot, and the music went back to blaring.

  * * *

  SHE JUST HAD THE BEST KISS of her life and it had come from the most infuriating man God had ever created. Who was apparently engaged. As if the other hundred reasons they were all wrong for each other weren’t enough.

  Engaged. That thought hurt so much it stole her breath.

  Grace stood behind the curtained window and watched him drive away, his tires kicking up a dust storm. She turned the radio off, before her ears could suffer permanent damage. And then just stood there, confused and furious, going over all that had just happened and unable to make any sense of it.

  When the sound of a car’s motor from outside reached her, she was ready to go for Gramps’s rifle, but then she recognized the familiar rumbling and moved to the window unarmed. Jamie was driving her pickup. She’d left it at the ravine the night before.

  He didn’t come to the door, and she didn’t go outside. She simply watched as he walked with an uneven gate to the SUV Ryder had left here, since he took his own car when he’d stormed away.

  She liked Jamie, although he was probably the most closed-off guy on the team. From what she’d caught from the others when she’d been out showing them her land, she pieced together that he’d lost his legs in the military and had been in a wheelchair until recently. He was some sort of a legend. The others clearly respected him a great deal. Now he was walking again with the help of his space tech prostheses. Not that he ever talked about any of that.

  She would have to thank him for bringing her pickup back, thank them all for the rescue at the mill. And she would, the next time she saw them. But not today. God, she needed a little breather. It’d been a hell of a day.

  She was fed and bathed, which left her little to do for the rest of the afternoon but clean up the house a little and take care of the horses. Later, when the urge to strangle Ryder more or less passed, she would call him and ask whether his team had turned up any new information at the train station. They were probably out there right now, interviewing people.

  She needed to give them time to do their job. Which left a couple of empty hours. She walked Cookie then did laundry. Cleaned up the kitchen. Her gaze found the urn on the mantel. She still hadn’t done what she’d come here for. She’d been procrastinating and she knew it.

  “God, I wish you were still here. Everything is turning into such a mess, Tommy.”

  Her heart constricted. She wasn’t ready to say a final goodbye to her brother, not yet. And she wasn’t sure if she would ever be fully ready.

  “Hey, there, Twinky,” she told the cat who finally slinked forward from one of her hiding places. The two hundred decibels of country rock had been a little too much for her. The kittens immediately charged at her and showered her with affection, and the cat shot Grace a pained look.

  “Get used to it, buddy. They think you’re their surrogate mother. It won’t be that bad. It’s actually pretty nice to have family.”

  Her mind was full of images of her brother. Them riding together, him protecting her at school. She’d sneaked out a few times in the night to meet up with friends for some wild ATV rides. He’d followed to make sure she wouldn’t get hurt. Man, that had made her mad at the time.

  She hadn’t wanted him to treat her like a little sister. She’d been in such a rush to be a grown-up. So she’d decided to give him a taste of his own medicine, and had followed him the next time he did the sneaking. He was meeting big-boobs Sally at the old feed store. Of course, he’d caught Grace and had nearly wrung her neck. Didn’t buy the story that she was only there to protect him.

  The memory put a smile on her face.

  She would have never gotten caught if she hadn’t tripped over the old railroad tracks in the dark and made a ruckus.

  Her smile froze.

  The old feed store had been a train station back in the day, maybe fifty or so years ago. It stood right on the west border of the ranch.

  An abandoned old train station.

  Out in the boondocks. That made more sense than hiding illegals at the bustling station at Edinburg. If Miguel and Rosita had been last seen at a train station, Grace was willing to bet good money that this was it.

  She reached for her phone, but it wasn’t in her pocket. In the chaos, she’d left it at the mill, had forgotten to take it back from the bastard who’d grabbed it from her before he’d beaten her. The landline to the ranch had been long disconnected. She couldn’t afford paying for something like that when nobody was using it.

  Nightfall was still at least an hour away. She could just drive out there, take a look, see if she had anything to report. She wasn’t looking forward to talking with Ryder. If she didn’t absolutely have to call him, she’d just as soon avoid it.

  But going out there alone didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do.

  Dylan, she thought. The Rogers ranch was one of the closest to her, and there was a fifty-fifty chance that Dylan would be showing up right about now for dinner. And even if he wasn’t there, she could tell Molly about the station, so somebody would know where she’d gone, in case something bad happened to her.

  She stepped into her boots and went outside. Better check on Cookie one more time before she left. The horses snorted a greeting as she opened the barn door and they recognized her.

  “You two having fun in here?” Now where was that damn bucket again?

  She spotted it in the corner where she could have sworn she didn’t leave it.

  Then she froze as puzzle pieces fell into place.

  The barn door that kept opening. The bucket that kept moving. The strange noises that came from the barn some nights.

  She moved to the door, switched on every single light switch and grabbed the pitchfork. And then she moved forward to investigate.

  The ladder to the hayloft creaked under her boots as she put her weight on it. “If anyone is up there, show yourself now,” she demanded.

  But no sounds came from up above. The horses didn’t act skittish, either. They were looking at her curiously.

  She moved up rung by rung, her muscles tightening. But she found no one up there. The hayloft was empty, covered in dust and cobwebs.

  She relaxed as she climbed back down. “I think I’m becoming paranoid.”

  But she decided to check the back of the barn, anyway, for signs that someone might have been in here at one point. The stalls were all either empty or filled with miscellaneous equipment. An antique hoe sat in the back
corner of the barn. Everything back there had been there since before Tommy had to leave.

  Except the hay.

  She stared at the fresh pile on the ground.

  For what? She sure as anything hadn’t put it there.

  She thrust the pitchfork into it and moved it around, found the trapdoor in less than a minute.

  Now that definitely hadn’t been there before.

  She wedged the prongs of the pitchfork into the gap and heaved, springing the door open. She stared down into the darkness, the space barely lit by the light that hung from a beam above her.

  The bolt hole was maybe four feet high, but fairly big. Ten feet by ten feet, at least. It was reinforced with four-by-fours just like the tunnel in the ravine had been.

  A temporary holding place, she guessed, pretty sure it was connected to the smuggling.

  A phone would have been nice right about now.

  She closed the door, shuffled the hay around on top of it until everything looked like it had when she’d come back here.

  “What do you two know about this?” she asked the horses once she walked back to them.

  They ignored her. They were more interested in their feed.

  She made sure they had everything they needed. She turned back from the door on her way out. “You two better keep an eye on the place.”

  She’d tell Ryder about this when she called him about the feed store.

  Once inside the house, she grabbed a flashlight. The old feed store was boarded up and would be dark inside. She grabbed her grandfather’s rifle, too. And hoped like anything that she wouldn’t have to use it.

  She drove straight to the Rogerses’ ranch, felt a burst of optimism when she saw Dylan’s fancy new truck in the driveway. It was the only car there. Maybe Molly had to run to town for something.

  But it was Molly and the dogs, once again, that ran down the driveway to meet her.

  “Hey, I was just about to run to Hullett to pick up Logan. He’s at his karate lesson,” she said. “Want to come with me?”

  “Can’t right now. Is Dylan here?”

  “Off hog hunting with his buddies.” She rolled her eyes. “He traded cars with me. Didn’t want his fancy one to get dirty.”

  “Mind if I call him on your phone? I lost mine today.”

  “Sure.” Molly dialed the number then handed the phone over. “Is everything okay?”

  The other end rang over and over, then switched to voice mail. “Hi, Dylan. It’s Grace. Could you meet me at the old feed store? I’m heading over there right now. I hope you get this.” She handed the phone back.

  Molly watched her. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  She shook her head. “This has to do with the smuggling. I think the bastards who built the tunnel might be keeping some of the people who come over at the old feed store.”

  “That’s dangerous stuff, Gracie. Should you be getting involved with this? Why not just call Shane? He’d come right out with his deputies.”

  “It’s just a hunch. I’m just going to drive over there. See what’s going on. If there’s anything, I’ll call the law. I promise. I don’t suppose you have an extra cell phone in the house?”

  “Here.” Molly handed over her own. “You take this.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back with it in a couple of hours.” She tucked the phone in her pocket and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m probably just paranoid.” She shrugged. “Sometimes… I spent so much time looking over my shoulder, always watching for danger, for roadside explosives and snipers and all that stuff. It’s hard to learn to relax again. I still tend to see danger in everything.”

  “There’s plenty of danger out there. Better to be safe than sorry. Want me to come with you?”

  “No way. There’s not going to be any trouble. I promise. Even if worse comes to worst, I have practice at this. And Dylan is coming to meet me. You go get Logan.”

  But Molly still didn’t look sure. “Do you want one of Dylan’s hunting rifles? He only took the big one.”

  “I got Gramps’s. Not that I’m planning on using it.”

  * * *

  THE DRIVE WAS LONG, HOT AND DUSTY. Then she ran out of pavement and hit gravel, which was worse yet. She got all bounced around by the time she reached her target.

  And immediately realized that coming alone had been a mistake.

  Two pickups stood behind the old feed store that had started its life as a train station. The place wasn’t nearly as abandoned as everyone believed. Which didn’t mean that anything nefarious was going on here—she tried for optimism. Could be someone bought the old place to start a new business.

  She pulled her truck behind a couple of large boulders, got out and crept to the edge of the first one, checked the area for snakes and other nasty stuff, then lay down on her stomach.

  She took Molly’s phone out and switched it to vibrate in case Dylan called her back. She thought about calling Ryder. Okay, it really was stupid to be out here alone. She dialed and waited until Ryder answered. “I’m out at the old feed store on Rowley Road.”

  Two men came from the building as she said that. Each led a small child by the hand.

  “Rosita and Miguel are here,” she whispered, even though they were way too far to hear her. She definitely recognized the kids from the picture.

  Her heart lurched, and a hard knot deep inside her relaxed. She’d hoped and prayed that the children were still alive, but a part of her knew all along there was a chance that they weren’t. Seeing them brought relief, even if she was far from being able to rescue them.

  “Stay where you are. I’m on my way,” Ryder told her. “How bad is it?”

  Two more men came from the building.

  “Four armed men that I can see.”

  “You’re not to engage them in any way. Do you hear me?”

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “No, you’re not. You just think nothing of your own life when there’s someone else to save. Grace? Please.”

  Was tough guy Ryder McKay begging? “I’m flat on the ground, two hundred yards back from the place, okay?”

  “Stay there. I mean it.”

  She heard a door slam on the other end of the line and a motor start. He was in his SUV.

  The men she watched piled into the pickups with the kids.

  “They’re leaving.”

  “I don’t want you to follow. We’ll follow the tracks when I get there.”

  It would be dark by then. And every wasted minute gave those bastards a chance to hand the kids over to someone else. No way would she let them slip through her fingers. “Sorry.”

  “Grace, listen to me—”

  She hung up on him and got back into her truck, her phone vibrating in her pocket. She ignored it. She didn’t want to argue with Ryder right now. She needed to focus on those kids.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryder gave up on reaching Grace and called the rest of his team instead, although they were pretty far away, checking leads at the train station in Edinburg.

  “Grace found the Molinero kids. She’s out on Rowley Road. I’m on my way.”

  “We’re leaving right now,” Mo told him. “Got exact coordinates?”

  “I wish. She’s at some old feed store.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ll find the place.”

  He had no doubt of that. The question was, would they find it in time, or would they be too late?

  He tore down the road, following the GPS directions. Finding Rowley Road wouldn’t be an issue. Finding a feed store that had been out of business probably from before GPS was invented was another matter. Especially when Rowley Road was over a hundred miles long.

  His fingers gripped the wheel hard. He headed toward the section of the road that stretched between Hullett and the Cordero ranch, figuring it to be his best bet.

  He called back the number she’d called him from. She didn’t pick up.

  Was she ignoring him, or was she hurt? “Dammi
t, Grace.”

  Fear like he’d never experienced before punched through him instead of the usual adrenaline that came when an op suddenly turned interesting. Fear wasn’t good. It didn’t help in the least.

  He was a soldier. He was in control. At all times.

  Except around Grace.

  * * *

  THE MEN WHO HAD THE KIDS took a dirt road that crossed her land, and fury bubbled up in Grace. This was her ranch, not some criminal playground. What made people think that they had free rein on someone else’s property?

  She was probably to blame at least partially—absentee ownership. She’d been away too much for too long. Tommy had been here before he’d gotten truly sick, but he hadn’t been well enough for a long time by that point to regularly ride or drive over the whole ranch. And now Dylan, although he rented, wasn’t exactly a full-timer out here, either. He lived elsewhere; he had other businesses.

  She followed the trucks for a couple of miles. The dirt road they drove didn’t really go anywhere in particular, just meandered among the pastures. It’d been marked out back when her grandfather still had a thriving horse ranch.

  She could only think of one building out this way, a log cabin nobody had used in ages, originally built back in the eighteen hundreds by one of her ancestors. She was fairly sure the men were heading there so she could afford to hang back enough not to be noticed.

  She stopped her car a quarter mile away, pulled it way off the road into the brush, then hobbled the rest of the way, as fast as she could with her brace. When she was close enough to see the building, she kept down, moving from cover to cover.

  Since dusk was falling, she hoped she wouldn’t be seen. The cabin had few windows, and those small but numerous gaps between the logs that hadn’t been rechinked in decades.

  She pulled the phone, saw the dozen missed calls from Ryder, and sent a text. Take dirt rd south to old cabin. Then she turned the phone off. Once she reached the building, even a low buzzing could give her away.

  A couple of camping lanterns lit up the derelict building. She rounded it silently and noted the two trucks up front, the ones she’d followed here. The sound of an approaching vehicle reached her from the distance. Someone else was coming.