by Webb, Peggy
He was giving orders again. Tyler seemed to be good at that. The funny thing was, she didn’t mind. It seemed to be second nature with him—not motivated by meanness or stubbornness—just the way a quick temper was second nature with her.
She planted her hands on her hips and faced him. “You will not tell me what to do.”
“I won’t have you out there by yourself. Somebody stole Angel. How do we know they don’t plan to harm you?”
“I can take care of myself.” She felt stimulated, challenged. Sparring with Tyler did that to her.
“I’ve already spent one night on the ground because of your stubbornness.”
“Nobody asked you to.”
“You will not stay in that trailer by yourself and that’s final.”
“There is nothing you can do about it. I’ll sleep where I want to.”
“Is it the trailer, then?”
“Yes.”
“I hope that bed is big enough for two.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that if you insist on sleeping in your trailer, I’ll sleep there, too.” He took her arm and led her toward his house. “However, if you decide to be sensible and sleep in my house, you’ll have your own comfortable suite of rooms.”
“Next door to yours, I’ll vow.”
“Naturally. How can I watch over you if you’re stuck way off down the hall?”
“You’re not my guardian.”
“I’m the guardian and you’re the angel. That makes us a team, Cat.”
She couldn’t help but smile. She had known from the beginning of the argument that she would end up in Tyler’s house. Still, she had felt compelled to give him some resistance. He enjoyed their sparring matches every bit as much as she did. She could tell.
“What about my elephants?” She made one last-ditch effort at argument. “Who will watch over them?”
“I’ve already devised a schedule of round-the-clock elephant guards.”
“I see.”
“Does that mean you’re not going to argue anymore?”
“About this particular subject? No. But I won’t make any rash promises about future subjects.”
Tyler roared with laughter. “You’re one hell of a woman, Catherine the Great.”
“You haven’t called me that in a long, long time.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yes, I believe I do. Does that make me arrogant?”
“It makes you the perfect match for me.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but he put a finger to her lips.
“Shh. We don’t want the sheriff to hear us in a shouting match. Word would get out all over town that we don’t like each other.”
“Do we?”
“Yes. We like each other, Cat. More than a little.” He took her elbow and escorted her into his front hall. It smelled like fresh wax and old wood and evening honeysuckle. Before he led her into his study, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We’ll discuss the rest of our feelings later...when we don’t have company.”
“Tyler...”
“That’s a promise, my sweet.”
They went into Tyler’s study. It was filled with books and comfortable chairs and the Southwest Indian art that Tyler loved. The sheriff sat in one of the overstuffed chairs, holding his hat in his hand.
“Good evening, Miss DeChello.” He was more cordial than when she had seen him at the circus the day of Angel’s disappearance. She guessed Tyler’s presence had something to do with the sheriff’s manners. He had made his position as her protector quite clear. Mr. Wakefield had confided as much while he was helping them move.
Catherine took a chair opposite the sheriff. Tyler stood behind the chair and his hand on her shoulder felt good.
“I suppose this visit is about Angel,” she said.
“Yes. I’m afraid I don’t have much news for you.”
Her spirits fell. She had thought finding an elephant wouldn’t be hard at all.
“They covered their tracks well. Whoever took the elephant knew what he was doing.”
“He?” She leaned forward. Did the sheriff know something?
“Just an expression. We don’t know who took the elephant, or how many perpetrators there were. Like I said, somebody brushed the ground, obliterated all the tracks.” The sheriff rolled his hat in his hands. “We checked out that other circus feller, Bill Henderson, like Mr. Lanphere suggested. He’s clean as far as we can tell.”
“As far as you can tell?” she asked.
“There was no evidence of your elephant at his circus, and he cooperated about letting us look around. Of course, there’s always the chance he had it hidden somewhere, but we can’t know that without a proper search, and we can’t search without proper cause and a warrant.”
“I see.” She had to fight back tears. Each day that passed lessened her chances of ever seeing her baby elephant again.
“Miss DeChello, it’s not that we’re not trying.”
“I know that.”
“Well...some folks seem to think a county sheriff hasn’t got much sense. Granted, we don’t have the resources big-city crime labs do, but we do try to do our jobs.”
“The circus people weren’t welcomed to Ocean Springs with open arms,” Tyler said quietly. “I hope that attitude hasn’t colored your investigation.”
“At first it did. Mayor Tittle wasn’t very much interested in using Ocean Springs resources to help, but I got to thinking, ‘I’m the sheriff here, elected by the people, not by the mayor.’ It’s the people I answer to—and my own conscience.” The sheriff stood up. “We’ll keep trying to find your elephant, Miss DeChello, although I’m not holding out much hope.”
“Not that many people could manage to steal an elephant.” Tyler came from behind Catherine’s chair and took over the conversation. “I think we should begin to think about motive. Who would want to steal Angel and why?”
“That’s a good point.” The sheriff set his hat aside and took out a pad and pencil. “Besides Bill Henderson, do you know of anyone who might have wanted that baby elephant?”
“No.”
“How about enemies? Did that circus owner have any enemies?” The sheriff had his pencil poised to write.
“None that I know of,” Catherine said, “but you might want to ask him. The circus is in Biloxi now.”
“What about you, Catherine?” Tyler asked. “Is it possible that the theft of Angel was a personal vendetta against you?”
“I’ve been in graduate school, too busy studying to be sociable. A person alone doesn’t collect many enemies. Certainly no one who was a part of the circus would do such a thing. We’re like family.” She gazed across the room, thinking of people who would want to punish her. Only one person came to mind: Billy Joe.
But why, after all these years? Besides, he had already inflicted all the punishment he could. It didn’t seem logical that he would go to all the trouble of stealing an elephant just to punish her. He was too lazy for that. He never did anything that required much effort. Back in the days after he had become abusive, she had learned that if she ran and hid, Billy Joe wouldn’t come after her. That didn’t stop the punishment, though. He would wait until he had her cornered and unsuspecting, sometimes days after the alleged offense, before he used his fists on her.
“I can’t think of anyone,” she said.
It was late by the time the sheriff left. Cat and Tyler shared a simple meal in his kitchen, then he escorted her to the guest bedroom. She noticed there was a good strong lock on the door.
“You’ll be safe here, Cat.” Tyler stood in the hallway with the light shining down on his hair. He made her feel safe, safer even than seven-ton Elmer and the entire circus family put together. She wondered why.
“Thank you.” She reached out and took his hand. “You’re a good man, Tyler.”
He looked pleased.
“No one has ever told me that before.”
“Then you must have be
en running with the wrong crowd.” She released his hand and pushed open her door. “Good night.”
“Sweet dreams.”
o0o
Tyler paced the floor after he had said good night to Catherine. He had had many women in his house, but never before had they slept in separate bedrooms. He decided Catherine was right. He was a good man, after all. And noble besides. All this time he had thought of himself as something of a rogue, a careless rake, a modern-day Don Juan. But he liked this new vision of himself. Tyler West, hero. It felt good.
He finally climbed into his own bed, and fell asleep making plans to protect Catherine.
o0o
He announced the first plan to her at breakfast.
“I’m going to teach you how to use a whip.”
“A whip? Tyler, why would I possibly want to know how to use a whip?”
“It’s a great weapon, deadly but not illegal.”
She set her orange juice aside, laughing. “You didn’t even rattle my door chain last night. I hardly think I’ll need to use the whip on you.”
“You never can tell.” Tyler was somewhat disappointed that Cat hadn’t jumped at his idea. He had also hoped a discussion of weapons and protection might stimulate her to talk about Billy Joe, but he was having no such luck.
“How about it, Cat? It might be fun.”
“All right. After I feed the elephants.”
“I’ll meet you at the barn. Be ready for your first lesson.”
o0o
After she finished feeding the elephants, Catherine pushed open the barn door and walked inside. Coming from the bright summer sunlight, the interior of the barn was relatively dark. She stood for a while, letting her eyes adjust.
Tyler was standing in a patch of sunlight streaming down from the rafters. Wearing cowboy boots and holding a coiled whip, he looked dangerous, as if he’d stepped straight out of the Western badlands. If she hadn’t known him so well she might have been taken aback by his appearance.
Even so, she approached slowly.
“Are you afraid, Catherine?”
“No... A little, perhaps,” she amended. “With that whip you’re very intimidating.”
“That’s the general idea. When you learn to use one, the mere sight of it strapped to your belt will be enough to give men pause.”
He uncoiled the whip. It made a deadly whispering sound. “But I would never hurt you, Catherine. You know that, don’t you?”
“I know that you never have, and that right now you think you never will.”
“I know I never will. It’s not in my nature, Cat. I would never hurt you or any other woman.”
This conversation was getting too personal.
“Where did you learn to use a whip, Tyler?”
“Researching a book. A Hollywood stuntman taught me.” He pointed to a length of rope tied to the rafters, strung with bits of paper. “Watch this.” He drew back his hand and the whip sang through the air. There was a snap as it sliced through one of the pieces of paper.
“That’s remarkable.”
“It can also be very painful. One lash of this whip, strategically placed, can be enough to stop a man in his tracks.”
“Have you ever had occasion to use it?”
“A man carrying a whip is generally given a wide berth.” Tyler answered her question without seeming to. He had used the whip. She couldn’t imagine him ever using it except in an extreme case, probably self-defense.
The idea of being able to defend herself took on a certain appeal. What if she had had self-defense skills when she was dating Billy Joe? Would it have made a difference?
“Show me,” she said.
He spent the next ten minutes showing her how to hold the whip and how to coil it. He stood directly behind her, his arms circling her body. She could feel his body heat.
Two days ago she would have felt trapped. Now she felt soft and warm inside.
“Take aim, Catherine. Like this.” Tyler moved in closer, guiding her arm. She felt the full power of him then—the intense maleness, the raw passion, pulsing like a thing separate and alive.
His hand closed over hers. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he turned her around. The whip slid to the barn floor, forgotten.
Tyler cupped her face, tipping it upward. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since you came down to the kitchen this morning.”
“Was the whip a ploy to get me into the barn?”
“No.” He leaned down and traced the side of her throat with his lips. “This is not a game.”
He pulled her so close she could feel the shape of him, the size of him, the heat of him through their clothes.
“Tyler, do you mind if we postpone the self-defense lesson?”
“And what do you suggest we do in the meantime?” His eyes twinkled.
“We could carry on in this same manner.”
“For how long?”
“Until I say stop.”
Chapter Ten
Catherine didn’t want to say stop. There in the barn with the sunlight filtering over them, she wanted Tyler to kiss her forever.
The barrier she had built against her feelings suddenly toppled. Long-suppressed need rushed through her like a river gone wild.
Hard on the heels of her need came visions of Billy Joe and how he’d tried to control her with force.
She pulled away from Tyler, and he stood quietly, observing her, his face giving away nothing.
“Cat, don’t you know that I would never hurt you? Give in to your passion.”
She whirled away and bent to pick up the whip. With one quick snap of her wrist she made the whip sing through the air. “What is passion? Just another manipulative technique.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way, Cat.”
“Don’t use your pretty words on me, Tyler. I’m immune.”
As if he hadn’t already melted her body, he was now trying to melt her heart with his endearing smile.
“Please stop looking at me like that,” she said.
“Like what?”
“Like you want to have me for lunch.”
“Lunch and dinner, too. And then for a bedtime snack.”
She turned and ran from the barn. It was not until she got to the house that she realized she was still carrying the whip. She flung it to the ground, and one of Tyler’s beagles lifted his head and stared at her as if to say, “Stop that racket so I can continue my nap.”
All the steam went out of her. Catherine climbed the steps and sank into a wicker rocker on Tyler’s front porch.
“I’ve made a fool of myself,” she said aloud. “I must go back and apologize.”
But she didn’t want to leave the comfort of the rocker. Not yet. There was something so wonderfully tranquil about sitting in a rocking chair on a summer morning, gently swaying back and forth, while a lazy beagle thumped his tail on the porch floor.
She could fall in love with Tyler’s house. It was big and rambling and friendly, not at all like the Wainwright house. For that matter, he wasn’t like the Wainwrights, either. They surrounded themselves with glamorous people and fancy parties, while Tyler surrounded himself with the beauty of nature.
“Ma’am?”
She looked up to see a postman standing on the gravel path a few feet from the porch. It bothered her that she hadn’t even heard his approach.
“Yes? May I help you?”
“I have a special delivery letter here for a Miss Catherine DeChello, in care of this address.” He held the letter out and Catherine leaned back as if he were offering her a snake. No one knew she was here except the owner of that pasture where the circus had camped. She hadn’t even had time to email the Dixie Virgins.
“Are you Miss Catherine DeChello?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t deny the truth. The man was only trying to do his job.
“Would you mind signing this, please?” The postman held out a clipboard with an official notice attached, then offered his pen.
After the
postman left, she stared at the envelope a long time. Then slowly she tore it open and began to read.
“Did you think I wouldn’t find you, Catherine?” Billy Joe had written the first sentence in bold black handwriting, without preamble. “Did you think you could hide in this circus forever?” She could almost imagine the cruel smile on his lips. “There are no secrets from a man who has enough money.”
Catherine felt a chill creep into her bones. Billy Joe had found her. Why? She pressed the creases of the letter and began to read once more. She was so absorbed that she didn’t see Tyler coming up from the barn.
“You belong to me, darling. Don’t you know that by now? You will always belong to me. I don’t let go of what’s mine. Especially not to another man.” His handwriting started slanting downward, with great angry slashes dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. “Did you think you could get by with moving into Tyler West’s bed? Don’t you remember what happens when you try to leave me for another man?”
She put her hand over her mouth to strangle a gasp.
“Catherine.” She hadn’t heard his approach or seen him move, but suddenly Tyler was squatting beside her chair. “What’s wrong, love?”
She lifted huge eyes to his. “He found me.”
“Who, love? Tell me.” She stared at him, mute. He cupped her face. “Cat, he can’t hurt you now. I’m here. I won’t let him.” She continued to stare. “Say his name, Catherine. He’s just an ordinary man. Treat him like one.”
“Billy Joe,” she whispered.
“Your fiancé?” Tyler’s voice was as gentle as his hands.
“My ex-fiancé.”
“That’s a start, my sweet. That’s a good start.”
Tyler lifted her into his arms and sat back down in the rocking chair. Then he cradled her and rocked. She leaned her head against his chest.
“If I could sing, I would,” Tyler said, smiling down at her.
“I don’t mind if you sing off-key.”
Instead of singing, he began to whistle. At first she couldn’t tell what the song was, only that it had a beautiful haunting melody that was a balm to her soul.
At last the song ended and there was no sound except the gentle squeak of the rockers on the old wooden front porch. Catherine sighed.
