Tag, You're It!

by Penny McCall

  She stretched her arms above her head and dragged in a deep breath. And then froze. Ever so slowly she looked over her shoulder.

  Tag tried to smile. He suspected he ended up with something closer to a grimace. He hadn’t ridden in years, and having Alex in his lap all night had only compounded his problems. What wasn’t numb was on fire, and not in a good way. He had a mean case of blue balls, and a killer chafing problem. But he’d be damned if he let her know it. “Morning,” he said. “Sleep well?”

  She slid off the mare, stopping dead when her injured leg hit the ground. She limped a couple of steps and either got a handle on the pain or just butched her way through it. Tag would have put money on the latter.

  “How’s the leg?” he asked.

  She yanked Jackass’s reins out of his hand and put some distance between them. He didn’t think she was going to answer him but she bit off the word “fine.”

  “You seem to be walking better.”

  “It’s still a bit stiff, but not too sore,” she said grudgingly.

  “You’re welcome.”

  That earned him a look, and a criticism. “We shouldn’t have ridden double all night.”

  “It was only a few hours.” But he dismounted, wincing when he hit the ground.

  The mare whuffled out a breath, sounding suspiciously like she was sighing in relief. Tag had a bad feeling Jackass was rubbing off on her.

  “Females,” he muttered, thankful he was following Alex so she couldn’t see that he was doing some limping of his own and ask him why. And then he noticed the way her ass swayed when she walked, and his problems increased… exponentially. He really should have paid attention to the scenery, but the mountains and the sunrise just didn’t hold the same attractions.

  Even wounded Alex had a strong, ground-eating walk and a sort of defiant, athletic grace that offset all the drama she created just by being a woman. And a know-it-all, and way too smart for her own good. Not to mention her annoying ability to read his mind—or in this case his libido.

  She looked over her shoulder at him, lips pressed together, one eyebrow raised, doing her disapproving-matron bit. She’d probably learned it in her mother’s drawing room, but Tag had been on the receiving end of that look a million times in his own mother’s kitchen. It was a weapon that defied class, and it still made him feel guilty.

  It didn’t stop him from looking at her ass, though. Some things were stronger than guilt.

  Thankfully, it didn’t take them long, even walking, to get to the buildings spread in the valley below. Most of the people he’d seen moving around from a distance seemed to be gone, with the exception of a woman with short salt-and-pepper hair who appeared to be somewhere in her mid-forties. Either that or she spent a lot of time outdoors, because she was well on her way to getting wrinkles on top of her wrinkles.

  The smile she greeted Alex with dimmed when she caught sight of Tag behind her.

  “Dee Redfern,” Alex said to Tag. She took Angel’s reins from him and looped both sets around a hitching post. “She owns the Bar D.”

  Tag held out his hand. “Any woman who names her place after a bar can’t be all bad.”

  Dee gave a bark of laughter, punching him in the shoulder. She was barely over five feet, but there was enough power in it to knock him back a step.

  “Does the D stand for dangerous?”

  Another laugh. “ ‘Bout time you brought ‘round someone with a sense of humor, Alex.”

  “Yeah, he’s a real laugh riot.”

  Alex stepped out from between the horses, and Dee’s eyes dropped to her thigh, and the blood staining her jeans.

  Every shred of amusement dropped out of her expression, “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” Alex said wearily. “The kind I won’t get through without coffee.”

  “He ain’t coming into my house until you tell me he ain’t responsible for that.”

  Alex gave Tag a long, level stare, long enough that he started to wonder what she’d say. And how Dee would react.

  “He’s not,” Alex finally said.

  Dee didn’t seem all that convinced, but she was willing to take things at face value.

  “Well, c’mon inside, then, and I’ll get you that coffee. Probably rustle you up some breakfast, too.”

  “The horses need to be dealt with.”

  “They’ll be all right for a while longer.”

  Alex shook her head, already loosening the belly straps on Jackass’s saddle. “Some joker in town got Jackass drunk. Then we had to race a Jeep and a Land Rover and ride all night.”

  “This is getting better and better,” Dee said.

  “He needs water, he needs some oats, and he needs to rest for a while.” Alex looked over at Tag. “So does Angel.”

  Jackass swung his rear end around and knocked Tag into Dee. They had to grab on to each other or go down in a heap in the dirt.

  Dee laughed, but she didn’t appear to be in too much of a hurry to disentangle herself. “I always knew that horse was too smart for his own good.”

  “You’re responsible for creating that freak of nature?”

  “He was born here,” Dee said to Tag. “A mare and a stallion created him. Alex came by here four years ago asking if she could use that old line cabin on the edge of my property. Truth be told, I didn’t pay much attention because one of my men was trying to break him at the time—”

  “You don’t know what his name used to be, do you?”

  Dee thought about it a couple of seconds then waved her hand. “Old age. All I remember is her renaming him because he reminded her of her ex-fiancé. Jackass didn’t seem to care what she called him, and it allowed Alex to avoid thinking of The Jerk and insult him at the same time. And she got to keep the horse, so it worked out for everyone.”

  Ex-fiancé. That explained a few things, Tag thought, looking over at Alex. She wasn’t the kind of woman to commit herself lightly, and deep feelings led to deep hurt. Maybe it was best if he didn’t know The Jerk’s name, because he had a powerful urge to look him up and teach him a lesson. Right after he found the treasure. And dealt with the man who’d killed his partner. Okay, so dealing with Alex’s ex wasn’t actually his top priority. It still said something that he was on the list, and that something was dangerous, since it hinted at emotional involvement. Any sort of emotional involvement was dangerous to a man in his line of work.

  “Nobody could break him,” Dee was saying, “but he took one look at Alex and that was it.”

  “Love at first sight?” Tag interpreted.

  “And don’t you doubt it. Horses get attached to their owners, just like cats or dogs. Not that I’ve ever seen one take to somebody out of the blue like that. Dangdest thing.” She shrugged. “I was so glad I didn’t have to put Jackass down that I tried to give him to her outright. He’s got a pedigree, you know. Would have cost me more than hurt feelings to destroy him.”

  “Anyway, Alex insisted on paying fair price for him, and to top it off, she studs him back to me in the season. She won’t take payment.” Dee paused to shake her head. “Says he gets depressed if she doesn’t bring him to the ranch, so I deeded her that worthless cabin and five acres.”

  Even more worthless now that the cabin was history, but Tag decided to let Alex break that news. “Don’t his neuroses breed true?”

  Dee bumped up a shoulder. “So far it hasn’t been a problem. The colts have a tendency to bond with their owners, but nothing as fanatical as Jackass.”

  “Fanatical isn’t the word for it. Unnatural is. She talks to him, and I swear he talks back.”

  Dee’s reaction was a full, rollicking belly laugh. “It does look that way, doesn’t it? Does it make you jealous?”

  “No. Absolutely not.”

  “Tunny, you sound jealous to me.” She ignored his attempt to sputter out another denial, turning to yell at Alex instead. “Let the horses be. I’ll have one of the hands see to them.”

  Alex didn’
t disagree verbally, but she continued to unsaddle Jackass.

  Dee shrugged and headed for the house. “It’s best to let her have some space when she gets in that mood,” she said by way of explanation.

  Tag fell into step with her. “Are you saying she has another mood?”

  Dee chuckled. “How’d you meet her?”

  “If I told you that, you’d just ask me a bunch of questions. I’d wind up telling you the whole story, and Alex would be pissed.” He paused before he went through the door and looked back at her, catching the death look Alex was sending his way. “Correction, she’d be more pissed.”

  “She’s not usually all that talkative.”

  “She never seems to run out of things to say to me. Most of them aren’t that nice.”

  “Imagine that,” Dee said, not sounding very sympathetic.

  Grinning, Tag followed her inside and found himself in a big country kitchen with a long pine table that seated about a dozen and held the remnants of a huge meal. Dee cleared off one end of the table, and Tag took the chair she indicated.

  She set a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. He inhaled deeply, his eyes all but crossing at the aroma, but he didn’t drink. “This isn’t Rocky Mountain espresso, is it?”

  Dee laughed, taking a seat across the table with her own cup. “That’s generally a trick reserved for outsiders.”

  “You mean Alex has a sense of humor?”

  “You must not’ve been around her very long if you have to ask me that.”

  “Three days,” Tag said, taking a sip of coffee and savoring the slam of heat and caffeine for a few seconds before he continued. “There’s been a lot of sarcasm. I haven’t seen any actual humor.”

  Dee looked at him for a minute, then shook her head.

  “So how’d you meet Alex?” he asked, mostly because it seemed like a good time to change the subject.

  “Over the end of a rifle.” Dee offered him the cream and sugar, and when he declined both she added a couple of heaping spoons of sugar to her coffee. “Alex got in between me and a mountain lion that was killing calves. I almost shot her.”

  “She has that effect on people.”

  “She does provoke strong emotion in everyone who meets her. Question is, what kind of strong emotion does she provoke in you?”

  “She makes me want to…” yell, punch a wall, hurt something or somebody. The thoughts were accompanied by a variety of expressions and aborted motions, ending with his hands spread wide.

  “Frustration,” Dee supplied.

  “That about sums it up.”

  “That’s a shame. For me,” Dee added with a wink. She got up and went to the stove, which was a good thing for Tag since he didn’t have any comeback for her come on.

  “I think those yahoos might’ve left some food, and it could still be hot.”

  Tag went to the door, intending to call Alex in, but she was leading the horses away.

  “She’ll be along when she’s done.”

  He hesitated, watching even after she’d disappeared into the dark beyond the big, open barn door. He had his hand on the doorknob when Dee spoke again.

  “Don’t go feeling sorry for her. That girl knows her limits.”

  “I’m not feeling sorry for her.” What he was feeling was guilt. He hated the thought of her out there alone, hurting and tired but seeing to the welfare of their horses before she sought her own comfort. He hated knowing that she didn’t want him around. And he hated that he was sitting there examining his feelings. There was only one feeling he should be concentrating on, and that was gut feeling.

  “Maybe I should rename you Jackass.”

  Tag could hear the humor in Dee’s tone, but her comment stung all the same. Or maybe it was the insight behind the comment. He went back to the table and sat down, refusing to acknowledge her meaning or his feelings— which was easy since there was a plate of food next to his coffee cup.

  Alex came in as he was packing it away.

  “Did you leave me some?” she asked, going to the sink to wash her hands.

  Dee took a second plate out of the warming oven and set it across from Tag, along with a cup of coffee. Alex sat down and dug in. Except for a brief pause to turn down the strawberry jam Dee offered her, she didn’t lift her head until her plate was empty, eating with a single-minded focus and a lack of self-consciousness that was astounding.

  “Well,” she said to Tag when she was finished, “let’s take a look at it.”

  Tag slid a glance in Dee’s direction.

  “She’s okay,” Alex said impatiently.

  “What’s this all about?” Dee asked.

  “The Lost Spaniard.”

  Dee rolled her eyes. “That old chestnut.”

  “At least you didn’t laugh at me,” Tag said.

  “Why would I laugh? The Lost Spaniard is serious business. Every few years some greenhorn thinks he can come out here with no experience and no common sense and stumble across a treasure smarter men have died trying to find. And when that greenhorn goes missing, I have to send all my men out looking for him. Waste of our time, waste of his life.”

  “Tag is this year’s greenhorn,” Alex said helpfully.

  “And he thinks you can help him find it?”

  “Fate thinks so,” Tag said, and then he told Dee how they’d met. Alex filled in the rest of the story, including a detail or two that were new to Tag, namely Mick and Franky.

  “Mick and Franky?” Tag said. “Mick and Franky tried to kidnap you before the guy with the knife? You never told me that.”

  “It was no big deal,” Alex said. “They weren’t from Casteel—Mick’s accent was almost East Coast, now that I think about it. Probably a couple of gold-fever newcomers who wanted me to guide them. I handled it.”

  “You—” Tag slammed out of his chair and loomed across the table, brandishing his finger in her face. “I—” But none of the accusations that came to mind were valid. He hadn’t been there, and she’d had no choice but to handle it. “Mick and Franky?”

  “Frick and Frack,” Dee put in.

  Alex smiled but Tag wasn’t amused.

  “You’re pretty cavalier about it,” he said.

  Alex shrugged. “They said they wouldn’t hurt me.”

  “Right, they introduced themselves, asked you a question or two, and when you refused to answer they just let you go?”

  “Not exactly.” She bit back a smile. “They asked me what you’d told me, and when I refused to answer Franky got a little… testy. So I kicked him. In the balls.”

  “Jesus.” Tag hunched, strictly in reflex.

  “I was aiming for his knee, and he moved,” Alex said, sounding defensive—and obviously resenting Tag for making her feel that way. “It was his own fault. Franky sort of let Mick’s name slip—”

  “While he was writhing on the ground in agony?”

  “What the hell did you expect me to do? Let them kidnap me without putting up a fight?”

  “Why didn’t you run or scream? It’s not against the law to ask for help.”

  “When you helped me I got stabbed.”

  “It’s just a scratch.”

  “This is entertaining and all,” Dee said to Tag, “but what makes you think you can do what hundreds have failed at—and I might point out most of those people were familiar with this country. A hell of a lot more familiar than you’d be.”

  “Tag has a map,” Alex volunteered.

  “The map.”

  “Well, haul it out here and let’s have a gander at it.”

  There was no reason to hold back, and considering Dee’s probable—and very flattering—reaction to him unbuttoning his shirt, he untucked it instead, retrieving the linen-wrapped map from the bottom.

  They all bent over it, holding their breaths while he unwrapped it, then letting them out when they’d stared at the map for a bit and no light bulbs popped on over their heads.

  “Not much to go on,” Dee said.

&
nbsp; There were six sites marked on the face of the map: Denver, Casteel, and four others, at least two of which were in Spanish. There was a notation at the far right and one at the top, again both in Spanish, but it didn’t make sense that either of those would lead directly to the treasure.

  “I can see where some of the geography resembles this area,” Dee continued after a moment, “but nothing’s jumped out at me.”

  “It’s not a very good representation of the terrain,” Alex agreed, “but look at this.” She pointed to a section just to the right and below center. “If you assume that’s my valley and work your way out from there, it makes more sense.”

  Dee nodded, but she didn’t say anything, just straightened and walked away. When she came back she was unfolding a current map. She laid it next to the old one and the similarities were even more apparent. “You make any sense of these Spanish words yet?”

  “We, uh, just acquired the map,” Alex said. “This is the first chance we’ve had to study it.”

  “I speak a little Spanish,” Tag said. “Not enough to decipher something written a hundred and fifty years ago by a man trying to misdirect anyone who might get their hands on this without his permission.” His Spanish ran more toward the modern, barrio version. He could curse like a gang leader, and he could threaten to kill somebody, but he couldn’t order breakfast. “I can pick out a word here and there. That’s east,” he said, pointing at the right side of the map.

  Dee stuck her hands on her hips, shook her head. “You plan to head out with nothing more than this to go on?”

  “Nope.” Alex sat back in her chair, her gaze settling on Tag. “There’s no point in searching when we know so little. We’ll have to go to Denver.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe Junior will get tired of waiting and give up.”

  They locked gazes, both of them shaking their heads at the same time.

  “Who’s Junior?” Dee wondered into the silence.

  “Trust me,” Alex said, “you don’t want to know.”

  ———

  THE SHEETS WERE CLEAN, SO WAS ALEX, AND SO WERE her clothes. She’d eaten three square meals—all in the one day—luxuriated in a hot bath, dosed herself up with painkillers, and somebody owed her a couple nights’ worth of sleep.