Wife Most Wanted

by Joan Elliott Pickart

  When word of this latest bizarre happening reached the ranch hands, how many would quit? The rumors would be fanned by fear, the chickens seen as some sort of ghostly ritual that was sending the message to get off of Kincaid land.

  Well, by damn, Wayne Kincaid wasn’t leaving, he thought. Not yet. He wanted answers. He wanted the guilty party behind this horrendous scheme caught and made to explain the motive.

  No, he wasn’t leaving. He’d keep on being J. D. Cade until this sick mystery was solved and the Kincaid ranch was restored to the fine Montana spread it had once been. The ranch belonged to baby Jennifer McCallum now, and she deserved to inherit the place in the shape it should be in.

  Thunder rumbled through the dark clouds, and a jagged streak of lightning lit up the sky.

  “Damn,” J.D. said.

  He’d have to seek shelter, instead of going directly back to report what he’d found. He was a sitting duck to be hit by lightning on the open range, a fact every cowboy was taught early on. He had no desire to end up as dead as one of those chickens.

  Another weather front must have rolled in, he thought, bringing thunder and lightning to add to the pouring rain. He could only hope it would pass on through the area as quickly as it had come.

  J.D. turned his horse and flicked the reins, causing the large animal to leap forward in a gallop.

  He’d go to the cave, J.D. thought. The same cave where he’d played as a boy and sought shelter from storms.

  The same cave where he’d gone at times just to be alone, during the turbulent years of his adolescence.

  The same cave where later he and Kate Randall had been together on more than one occasion, making love and making plans for their future together, putting into words, as if they were weaving a beautiful tapestry, the dreams of all they would share.

  Forget it, J.D. thought.

  He yanked his Stetson farther down on his forehead as the horse pounded across the muddy ground.

  There was nothing to be gained by looking back, he thought, going through a mental if-only list. During the war and the years that followed, he’d come to live in the present, not dwelling on the past or dreaming about the future. He simply existed in the moment at hand.

  And this moment, he thought, glancing up quickly at the sky, could very well be his last, if he didn’t get out of the line of fire of the ever-increasing lightning.

  The sprawl of large rocks fronted by a grove of trees that J.D. was headed for came into blurry view through the downpour. Passing through a grouping of tall trees during an electrical storm was dangerous as hell, but there was no choice. He had to pass through the trees to get to the sought-after cave.

  At the edge of the wooded area, J.D. pulled the horse to a stop and dropped to the ground.

  “I don’t need to risk your neck, fella,” J.D. said, patting the animal’s neck. “Head for the barn.” He smacked the horse on the rump. “Go. Go home, boy. Barn. Go to the barn.”

  The horse snorted, pawed the ground once, then raced away in the direction J.D. had ordered him to go. J.D. darted into the trees and ran toward where he knew the cave would be, offering shelter, and a big serving of memories that he’d refuse to indulge in.

  The wind had picked up, whipping the branches of the trees into a frenzied dance that was accompanied by swirling, cold rain and the thunder and lightning. Hardly able to see three feet in front of him, J.D. ran with instincts on full alert, mentally envisioning the location of the cave.

  Twenty more feet, he thought, his heart pounding. Then up and over two big boulders, veer to the left, climb three small rocks then…bingo…the cave. One nice thing about caves…no one could pick ’em up and move ’em. It would still be there, just as it always had been.

  J.D. broke free of the trees, was up and over the big boulders, headed left, then scrambled his way up the smaller rocks. The rocks were slippery and his boots muddy, and he lost his footing on the last rock. He felt himself being propelled forward and automatically shot his arms out to break his fall.

  He hit the ground with a thud that knocked the wind out of him, then literally slid headfirst on his belly into the cave, his wet slicker acting like a sleek sled on snow. He came to a sudden and jarring halt as his body encountered the dry earth inside the cave.

  “Damn it to hell,” he said, gasping for breath.

  “Tsk, tsk,” a female voice said. “Is that any kind of proper language to use when you come calling on a lady, cowboy?”

  J.D.’s head snapped up, and his heart seemed to skip a beat before starting to thunder in his chest as he stared at the scene before him.

  A small fire was burning with beckoning warmth near the back wall of the cave, and behind it a woman sat cross-legged on the ground.

  A woman who was smiling at him.

  A woman who was causing images from the past, vivid memories, to slam against his mind in painful and rapid succession.

  A woman who had once been his purpose, his focus, his raison d’être, the other half of the very essence of himself, making him whole.

  Kate.

  She laughed, and the sound, the wind-chime sound, caused J.D. to close his eyes for a moment, savoring the lilting resonance.

  Kate.

  Get a grip, Kincaid, J.D. thought frantically. He’d known he’d see Kate eventually. It was inevitable in a town the size of Whitehorn. But, oh, Lord, why did it have to be here in the cave where they’d planned their future together, made love together, dreamed together?

  “Hello?” Kate said, smiling. “Are you asleep down there?” She frowned in the next instant. “Goodness, you’re not hurt, are you? You really landed hard when you came flying in here.”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” J.D. said, pushing himself up to a sitting position. “I just had the wind knocked out of me, that’s all.”

  “Well, come by the fire and get warm. Oh, I should introduce myself. I’m Kate Randall Walker.”

  J.D. pulled off the dripping slicker, using the moments to gather his composure. He stood, remembering to bend over slightly to avoid whacking his head on the top of the enclosure. He moved to where Kate was and sat down opposite the fire, sitting Indian-style, as she was.

  “J. D. Cade,” he said, looking at Kate intently. “I work on the Kincaid spread.”

  “Ah,” Kate said, nodding.

  She wouldn’t recognize his voice, J.D. knew. When he was a prisoner of war, he’d had a throat infection that went untreated for a very long time, leaving his voice deeper, more gravelly. And heaven knew he no longer even remotely resembled the Wayne Kincaid who had gone off to the war.

  But Kate? The years had been good to her. She looked older, of course, but the maturity was becoming. She was still a very beautiful woman. In the glow of the firelight, she was, in fact, exquisite, absolutely lovely.

  Knock it off, Kincaid, he admonished himself. He’d do well to remember how Kate had introduced herself. She was Kate Randall Walker. Walker. She was married to his best friend, Ethan.

  And she’d had Ethan’s baby.

  “So,” Kate said, “what were you doing out on the range on this rainy morning?”

  “Riding fence,” J.D. said. Kate had been riding in the rain because she always enjoyed doing that, said it was peaceful and relaxing. “And you?”

  “I love to ride in the rain. I know it sounds crazy, but I find it very relaxing. When the lightning appeared, though, I had to head for cover.” She cocked her head slightly to one side, in a gesture that was achingly familiar to J.D. “How on earth did you know this cave was here? You’re obviously new to the area, and this place can’t be easily seen.”

  “Rand Harding, the foreman at the ranch, pointed it out to me when we were riding this way a while back. He wanted me to know it was here in case something happened like today’s weather.”

  “Good thinking.” Kate paused. “It’s a strange feeling to realize that my life was in danger out there and the moment I stepped inside this cave I was safe again.”
/>   “Mmm.”

  “I felt as though I was moving in slow motion when I was trying to get to the cave,” Kate went on. “I admit that I was terribly frightened. I kept thinking about my husband, Ethan, his niece, Darcy, who is like a daughter to us, our Twiglet. And, of course, our precious baby boy, Wayne.”

  “You named…” J.D. cleared his throat. “You named your son Wayne?”

  “Yes. Wayne Ethan Walker. He’s so adorable. He’s just starting to walk, and wobbles like a drunken sailor. He looks just like Ethan.” Kate laughed. “I can’t see any resemblance to me in Wayne at all, even though I did have a great deal to do with him being here. He’s his daddy’s son, head to toe.”

  “You named him Ethan after his father.”

  “Yes, and Wayne for a very dear friend of Ethan’s and mine, who was killed in Vietnam. We all grew up together, you see.”

  “That’s a very big honor you’ve given your friend, Wayne. I’m sure he’d be pleased.”

  “I like to think he knows…somehow,” Kate said. “So tell me, Mr. Cade, what does J.D. stand for?”

  J.D. shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Your parents actually gave you initials for a name? How unusual.”

  “I’ve never given it much thought, I guess. I just am who I am.”

  Kate looked at him for such a long moment that J.D. pulled his gaze from hers and stared into the flames of the little fire.

  “Yes,” Kate said finally. “You are who you are.” J.D. looked up at her quickly, studying her expression, attempting to garner a clue to what she meant by the softly spoken words. Kate’s face revealed nothing.

  “Where do you come from, J.D.?” Kate asked.

  “Here and there. Does your little boy talk yet?”

  “He says a few words,” Kate said, smiling. “Some are very clear. He can say doggy, cookie, and a resounding no. Other words are only understood by Ethan, Darcy and me. Darcy adores her baby brother. I’m filled with such joy when I watch them play together, and…

  “J.D., you are a glutton for punishment. You’re held captive in this cave, and you’re egging on a happy and proud wife and mother to talk about her family.”

  “Well, it’s like you said,” J.D. said. “Our lives were in danger outside, in that storm. We could have been struck by lightning as easily as not. Having just experienced that, it’s good to hear about a happy family, people with…with dreams.”

  “Dreams,” Kate said, a rather wistful tone to her voice. “Sometimes they get shattered, destroyed by events beyond one’s control. A person then has to make a choice. They can hold on to the fragments, which means they really have nothing, or they can move forward, look to the future and embrace new dreams. Don’t you agree?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have to know when to let go of the past,” Kate said. She lifted her gaze and met his. “Let the broken dreams rest in peace.”

  My God, J.D. thought, his heart racing, Kate knows. She knew who he was, he was certain of it. She knew she was sitting by the warming fire in the memory-filled cave with Wayne Kincaid.

  And in her own gentle, wise and wonderful way, she was letting him know she forgave him for not returning to her after the war.

  Ah, Kate. Beautiful Kate.

  She was happy with Ethan and their children. There was a serene aura about her, a sense of grace and peace.

  So be it.

  He wished her well. He wished for happiness and sunshine to surround her for the remainder of her days. Now he, too, might be able to allow the fragments of his dreams to rest easy. Maybe.

  “Hello in the cave!” a man yelled.

  “That’s Rand,” J.D. said, rolling to his feet and turning toward the opening to the cave. “My horse must have made it back to the barn, and the electrical storm must have passed on through.”

  “My horse will wander around eating like she’s at a Sunday brunch,” Kate said, laughing. “I was in for a long walk home. Do you think the Kincaid ranch will provide taxi service for me?”

  J.D. looked back at her over his shoulder.

  “Yes,” he said quietly, “as a representative of the Kincaid spread, I’ll guarantee that you’ll be delivered safely home to your family.”

  “Thank you…J.D.,” Kate said softly.

  “No, I’m the one thanking you, Kate.”

  He turned to face her fully, and they looked at each other in the glow of the firelight for a long moment, a last moment. Then J.D. spun around, bent over slightly, and went to the entrance of the cave to holler a greeting to Rand Harding.

  Late that afternoon, Dana was pacing back and forth in the motel room as far as the telephone cord would allow.

  “You haven’t found one trace of Natalie?” she said into the receiver.

  “No, not so far,” a man said. “She seems to have disappeared into thin air.”

  “So the police are still looking for me.”

  “I’m afraid so. Listen, I’m not giving up. You hired the best detective in these parts—me—to find your twin sister, and I intend to do exactly that. Natalie is somewhere. I think she’s being hidden by the people who hired her. That would make sense. It will also make it more difficult to find her.”

  Dana pressed one hand to her forehead as a stress headache began to throb.

  “Why won’t the police believe me when I tell them that I would never do anything to jeopardize a career that I worked so hard for, am totally dedicated to. It was Natalie who did this, not me. We’re identical twins. She was impersonating me, and—”

  “I know, I know. But it’s like I told you before, since you can’t produce Natalie, it sounds like a pretty far-fetched story. We’ve covered all this, Dana.”

  Dana sighed. “I realize that, Mr. Parker. I’m sorry for complaining like this.”

  “Pete. You’re supposed to call me Pete.”

  “Yes, of course…Pete. Oh, dear, everything is in such a mess. I’m stuck here in Whitehorn, Montana, for heaven only knows how long. As the major witness to the robbery attempt at the store, I’m practically glued to the police department. Can you believe this? It couldn’t get any worse.” She paused. “Have you spoken recently with Todd Gunderson at my office?”

  “Yeah, I checked in with him yesterday. He’s really worried about you. I hope you realize the guy is nuts about you.

  “Anyway, he said that the big shot who put in the buy order for the stock is out on bail. His attorney is going to cop a plea, present him as an innocent bystander who was approached by you with insider-trading information to sell regarding the merger of those two companies.

  “The only thing he’s guilty of, they’re claiming, is being greedy. The down and dirty is falling directly on your head.”

  “It was Natalie who did it all!” Dana said, nearly shrieking.

  “But they have witnesses who saw you in the office late the night before the buy order went in the next morning. You were also seen outside the building, getting into a car belonging to the guy they snagged.”

  “Yes, I know,” Dana said wearily. “I was home in bed with a bad cold that night. Natalie said she would go to the store to get me some juice. She never came back. Oh, Pete, how am I going to prove my innocence if we can’t find my sister?”

  “I’ll find her. You sit tight.” Pete chuckled. “Not that you have any choice in the matter. That’s what you get for being Wonder Woman during the robbery attempt.

  “Well, look at the bright side, Dana. I now have a telephone number where I can reach you if something breaks, instead of having to wait to hear from you.”

  “Good grief, is that all you can come up with for a bright side?”

  “At the moment? Yes. But I’m giving this my best shot. You’ll have to be patient. Remember…everyone is somewhere, and I’m very good at finding the person I’m looking for.”

  A knock sounded at the motel door.

  “There’s someone at my door,” Dana said. “I’ve got to go. You’ll call me the minute you have an
y leads on where Natalie is? Keep me completely informed? Even the smallest bit of information will give me something to hold on to. All right?”

  “You bet. Try to relax, if you possibly can. There’s nothing you can do at your end but wait. I’ll stay in touch.”

  The knock sounded again.

  “Yes, okay. Thank you, Pete. Goodbye.”

  Dana replaced the receiver, drew a steadying breath, then started across the room to answer the insistent summons at the door.

  Kurt stood outside Dana’s motel room and glowered at the wooden panel. The rain had finally stopped around midafternoon, but the air was damp and chilly. He’d been on his way home for the night, he was hungry, and he’d been none too pleased with himself when he realized he was heading for the Whitehorn Motel.

  Dana Bailey, damn her, he fumed, had never been far from his mind and memory since he brought her to the motel yesterday morning.

  When the day dawned with cold rain and a dark, gloomy sky, he’d envisioned her cooped up in the hotel room, all alone in a strange town, caught up in a situation she’d inadvertently become a major part of.

  The day had no doubt seemed endless to Dana, a series of long, long hours. Depressing, lonely hours.

  When he found himself driving toward the motel, he’d rationalized his actions by telling himself he had to be certain that Dana wasn’t contemplating a cut-and-run.

  He’d actually managed to believe that explanation for a full thirty seconds before admitting to himself that he wanted to see Dana, to be certain she wasn’t totally miserable in her present circumstances.

  It mattered to him, he had to be sure, that Dana Bailey wasn’t crying.

  Now? Kurt thought angrily, knocking on the door again. He wished he’d gone straight home. He was standing there like an idiot, chilled to the bone, starving to death, and Dana couldn’t be bothered to answer the door. Her car was parked next to his vehicle. She was in there, all right, and for some reason she was ignoring his presence.

  So forget it. Let her cry, brood, sulk, whatever the hell she might be doing. He really didn’t give a rip if she…