RODEO MAN

by Margaret Watson

  "What did Grady say?" she managed to ask.

  "He was royally pissed off. I don't think I've ever seen him that mad. But he said that he knew I was only trying to do what was right for him. There are a lot of women out there who'd do just about anything to get a rodeo star. Kind of like the groupies who follow the rock stars, I guess. Anyway, when you came looking for him, you were about the fourth woman that month who'd claimed to know him. I figured you were trying to pass off someone else's brat as his. I didn't think any more about it until I saw you here at the ranch. That's when I knew I'd made a mistake."

  "Thank you for telling him the truth," she said wearily, "but it doesn't matter anymore. It only matters if you're the one who's been stalking me."

  "No, ma'am, I have not." Ron shook his head vigorously. "I wouldn't do that."

  "That's what Grady said." She looked at the man standing in front of her, wondering if he was telling her the truth or was only covering his backside. "What did Grady do after you told him the truth?"

  "He didn't fire me," Ron answered. "I can't repeat what he said in mixed company, but he finally told me that one mistake wasn't going to change all the good things I've done at the ranch." The man actually blushed. "I feel real bad, Doc, and I'm going to make it up to you somehow."

  "Thank you. Ron." As far as she could tell, the man was sincere. "I'm glad it's cleared up, and I'm glad Grady didn't fire you. I know you've been a good friend to him, and he's going to need you to stay and help him with the ranch. And thank you for trying to make it up to me. I think it's too late for Grady and me, but I appreciate the thought."

  "Don't you go thinking that, Doc. I have an idea, so you just be a little patient." He stuck his hat back on his head, looking more cheerful than when he'd come in. "And I hope that you start coming out to the ranch again. No offense to Doc O'Connor, but he doesn't have the same touch with the horses as you do."

  At that she managed a genuine smile. "Thanks for the vote of confidence. Maybe after a while I can start coming out to the ranch again."

  That wouldn't happen for a long, long time. She'd have to get over Grady first.

  He nodded once. "I'll be seeing you around, Doc. I've got some planning to do."

  Ron disappeared out the front door of the clinic, and Stella popped her head around the corner of the exam room. "What did that nice man from the Flying W want?" she asked.

  Becca shook her head. "It was a personal thing, Stella. He and I haven't been getting along, and he wanted to straighten it out"

  "Well, wasn't that sweet of him?" Stella beamed at her, then retreated. Becca wandered into her office, sat down at her desk and stared at the pile of records in front of her. The last thing she wanted to do right now was think about her job. But it was the only thing that would save her from thinking about Grady. So she picked up the first file in the stack and began reading it.

  * * *

  Three days later Becca hadn't heard a word from Grady or Ron. Pat had been out to the Flying W to check on the cattle she'd sutured, and although she hated herself for asking, she hadn't been able to resist questioning him about whether he'd seen Grady. He hadn't seen either Grady or Ron, although he gave her a strange look for asking. Telling herself that what Grady did wasn't her concern, she tried not to think about him at all. She didn't succeed.

  It was close to dark by the time she finished at the office, but she hardly noticed. Cassie was staying overnight at one of her friend's houses, so Becca wasn't in a hurry to go home to an empty house. Sleepovers had lately become very popular among the eight-year-old set, and Cassie had been excited about her big plans. Finally, when she couldn't ignore her growling stomach any longer, Becca pushed away from her desk and headed home.

  "I should have left some lights on," she muttered to herself as she pulled into the garage. The house stood dark in front of her, and as she closed the garage door and headed for the back porch, she felt a momentary twinge of fear.

  But who could have known she would work so late tonight, she thought? Feeling foolish, she fitted the key into the lock of the porch door and pushed it open.

  She was almost in the door when someone shoved her from the back and she went flying into the kitchen, stumbling against the table. The door slammed shut behind her, and she whirled around.

  Sy Ames stood in front of her. His face was twisted with rage as he stared at her. "You wouldn't listen to me, would you?" he growled.

  "Listen to you about what?" She dared a glance around the kitchen, but she'd been too careful to clean up their breakfast before they left that morning. There was nothing on the counters or the table that could be used for a weapon.

  "I told you to stay away from Farrell."

  Her gaze snapped back to Sy. "I haven't been near him for several days."

  "That's not what I've heard. You were living out there with him."

  "Only because someone had broken into my house. That was you, wasn't it, Sy?"

  "You weren't supposed to go out to the ranch with him. You were supposed to be there with me." Fury blazed from his eyes.

  "You don't own the ranch anymore, Sy. How could I be there with you?" She began edging toward the drawer that held the knives.

  "That's Farrell's fault. He cheated me, you know. He cheated in that poker game, but I had no choice but to let him win. All the others there were on his side."

  "He paid you for the ranch, didn't he?"

  It was the wrong thing to say. Sy's face grew livid. "He stole it from me. Gave me less than half of what it's worth. But he's had to put out more money since he took it from me. He's had to pay plenty for vet bills, hasn't he?" he sneered.

  "That was you who gave Beau colic and drove the cattle into the fence?" she whispered, horrified.

  "Yes, and I'll do a lot more before I'm finished. Because taking my ranch wasn't enough for Farrell. He had to have you, too. He stole you right from under my nose, goddamn him."

  Becca's stomach began to roll. "You never had me, Sy. We were never involved."

  "I was giving you time to get to know me. And then you took up with Farrell the minute he hit town."

  "That's all over," Becca said desperately as she watched Sy work himself up into a frenzy. "Grady and I aren't seeing each other anymore. And I'm not even going out to the Flying W now. One of my partners is handling the ranch. So I won't see Grady at all."

  Sy stared at her for a moment, then said flatly, "You're lying. I can see it in your eyes. You're still in love with that lying cheater Farrell." He pulled a gun out of his pocket. "Get away from that counter."

  Becca pulled her hands away from the drawer and held them in front of her. Why hadn't she listened to Grady's fears about Sy, instead of dismissing him as harmless? And why hadn't she been more careful about coming home at night to a deserted house?

  "What do you want, Sy?" she asked. "I've already told you that I'm not having anything to do with Grady. I'm not going out to the ranch anymore. What more can I do?"

  "You're going to come with me. We'll have a good life together," he said, and there was a mad gleam in his eyes.

  She refused to remind him that she had a child, that she couldn't go away with him. She didn't want him to remember Cassie. "I can't leave my job," she said, thinking quickly. Sy was obsessed with money. "How will I earn my living? And I can't leave my practice behind without getting my money out of it. What would we live on?"

  "I got money from Farrell for my ranch. I still have most of it. You won't have to worry about money."

  "But I can't just leave my clients without any explanations. And I can't leave my partners in the lurch. Give me a few days to get my business in order."

  Sy's face turned an ugly shade of red. "Do you think I'm stupid? If I let you have a few days, you'll never go with me. It has to be now." He waved the gun at her, and she backed up a few more steps. "Let's go."

  "Can't we talk about this first?" she asked, moving into the living room. In a quick scan of the room, she saw nothing she
could use as a weapon.

  "I've done all the talking I'm going to do. You didn't listen to me when you had the chance, when I still had the Flying W and you were coming out there every week, but you're going to listen me now."

  Becca's legs banged up against an end table, stopping her progress into the room. She heard the lamp on the table wobbling as she stood staring at Sy. He moved closer, pointing the gun at her chest. "Let's go, Rebecca. We'll have plenty of time to talk after we get where we're going."

  Reaching behind her blindly, she grabbed the lamp and threw it at Sy. It hit him on the side of the head, and he staggered backward, thrown off balance.

  It was the only chance she would have. Lunging for him, she knocked the gun out of his hand. Then she picked up the lamp and hit him again, harder this time. He crumpled into a heap on the floor.

  Sy lay motionless on the floor, but she was afraid to approach him, afraid he was trying to fool her. When he groaned and one hand twitched, she realized he was knocked out, but that he wouldn't be unconscious for long. Looking around frantically for something to tie him with, she finally pulled her belt out of her slacks and wrapped it around his hands.

  That wasn't going to be enough. Running into the kitchen, she grabbed a dish towel and a roll of plastic wrap. She knotted the towel around his ankles, then wound the plastic wrap around his arms up to his shoulders before she tied it.

  Keeping an eye on Sy, who was now moving his head, she ran to the telephone and managed to punch out the numbers for the sheriff's office. As she told the dispatcher what had happened, she heard the woman calling into her radio to Devlin, telling him to "get over to Doc Johnson's house, on the double." When she put down the phone, she saw that Sy was struggling against his bonds, and she hurried over to pick up the lamp.

  "You'd better lie there quietly, or I'll hit you with this again." She saw the gun a few feet from Sy and kicked it under the couch. Then she lifted the lamp above his head, and his expletive-laced tirade stopped abruptly.

  It felt like she stood there for hours, watching Sy's hate-filled eyes staring at her, but she knew it was really only minutes before Devlin was pounding on the door.

  "Go to the back door," she yelled. "It's open."

  Moments later Devlin and Ben Jackson burst into the kitchen, then hurried into the living room, guns drawn. They looked down at Sy on the floor, his arms completely covered with plastic wrap, and Devlin's lips began to twitch.

  "That's a real original use of plastic wrap, Doc," he said. "Were you afraid he was going to spoil on you?"

  "It worked, didn't it?" she retorted.

  The smile disappeared from his face. "Yeah, it did. And thank God for that."

  He pulled out a pair of handcuffs and snapped them on Sy's wrists, then untied the belt and peeled away the plastic wrap. After reading Sy his rights, he unwrapped the towel from his ankles and pulled him to his feet. "Let's go, Ames. You're not going to be bothering Doc or anyone else for a long time." He turned to his deputy. "Ben, take him down to the jail. I'll take Doc's statement"

  "His gun is under the couch," Becca said as Ben started to leave.

  "He had a gun?" Devlin's face went cold and hard. "Get an evidence pouch, Ben. We don't want to make any mistakes on this one."

  After Ben Jackson had escorted Sy out to the car, then come back in and retrieved the gun, Devlin turned to Becca. "Okay, Doc, what the hell happened here?"

  * * *

  Chapter 17

  «^

  Her legs were suddenly shaking too badly to keep her standing, and Becca sank down onto the couch. "He was waiting for me when I got home from work," she said, her voice trembling. "As soon as I opened the back door, he pushed his way into the house."

  "Where's Cassie?" Devlin asked:

  "She's at a friend's house, thank God."

  Devlin looked at her, then set his notebook down. "I'm going to make you some coffee," he said. "You look like you need something hot"

  "Tea," she said, and struggled to get off the couch. "I'll get it."

  "You sit still," the sheriff ordered. She heard him rummaging in her cabinets, and a moment later he turned on the water in the kitchen. Minutes later he handed her a steaming cup of tea, then picked up his notebook again.

  It seemed like hours later when he shut his notebook and stood up. "You shouldn't be alone tonight. Doc," he said quietly.

  "I'll be fine." Her lips felt stiff and cold. "Since I won't have to worry about my stalker, I'll sleep like a baby."

  She felt his gray eyes studying her. "I doubt it," he finally said. "Can I call Grady?"

  "No, please don't," she said too quickly, and closed her eyes.

  Devlin's silence hung in the air between them for too long. Finally he said, "That's up to you. But I'd rather you had someone here with you. I'd stick around myself, but Cameron appears to be having a crime wave. Damien Kane needs my help."

  "I'll call a friend if I decide I don't want to be alone," she answered, opening her eyes to see the worry on his face. She gave him a strained smile. "Thank you for worrying, Sheriff, but I'm fine now. I'm just tired. And it sounds like you have your hands full."

  He gave her a doubtful look, but nodded. "I'll talk to you in the morning, then." He hesitated, as if he was going to say something else, then headed for the door. "I'll be on duty all night. Call me if you need me for anything."

  "Thank you, Devlin." She gave him a genuine smile. "That's very thoughtful of you."

  He nodded again and slipped out the door. Becca listened to the sound of his car fade into the distance, until finally she was alone in the silence. She sat on the couch for a while, still feeling numb, and stared at the lamp tumbled onto the floor. Slowly, aching with a deep chill, she stood up and replaced the lamp on the end table. After checking to make sure the doors were locked, she wandered from the living room into the kitchen. She was amazed that her house didn't look completely different after what had happened here tonight. But nothing had changed; nothing looked out of place.

  Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep, she curled up on the couch in the living room and turned on the television. A late-night show was playing, and the host and his guest were laughing together over an unknown joke. Staring at the screen, she tried to concentrate on the show, but her mind kept replaying the moments of terror with Sy in her house.

  She almost didn't hear the knocking on the door. It was soft and tentative, as if her visitor was unsure of his welcome. Devlin must have forgotten to ask her something, she thought wearily. Turning off the television, she went to the door and looked out the window.

  Grady stood on the porch, staring at her. Trying to ignore the way her pulse bounded at the sight of him, she pulled the door open.

  "What are you doing here, Grady? Did Devlin call you?"

  "Why would the sheriff have called me?" he asked, then his mouth hardened and his face tensed. "Did something happen tonight?"

  Nodding, she stood aside for him to enter. "Come in. I thought that was why you were here."

  He slammed the door behind himself and grabbed her upper arms. "What happened, Becca? Are you all right? Is Cassie?"

  "Cassie isn't even here. She's staying the night at a friend's house. And I'm fine." She took a deep, shuddering breath, more glad than she wanted to admit that he was here. She didn't feel so alone, or so weary, anymore. "Come on in and I'll tell you what happened."

  Neither of them sat down. She stood and watched Grady pace. "You were right. Sy was the stalker. He was waiting for me when I got home tonight, and he forced his way into the house. He had a gun, and he wanted me to go away with him."

  Grady paled beneath his tan. "My God, what did you do?" For the first time she was able to smile about what had happened. With Grady here she could feel good about what she'd done. "I hit him over the head with a lamp, then tied him up and called the sheriff. He's safely behind bars."

  Without a word Grady folded her into his arms and held her tight. Closing her eyes, she dra
nk in the scent of him, the feel of his arms around her and the sound of his heart beating against her cheek. She wanted to burrow in forever, to never let go of him.

  "It's a good thing the sheriff has Sy in jail," Grady said quietly. "Because if he didn't, I'd hunt the bastard down and kill him with my bare hands." His hands shifted, then he held her away from him so she could see his face. "Why didn't you call me, Becca?"

  "The sheriff wanted me to," she said, and held his gaze. "I couldn't bear the thought."

  Bitterness filled his eyes. "You were held at gunpoint by a madman, but you couldn't force yourself to ask me for help?"

  She ached for his pain, but she held her ground. "Every time I see you, my heart breaks all over again. I'm sorry, Grady, but that's the way it is."

  He studied her for a moment, then dropped into a chair. "You didn't ask me what I was doing here tonight."

  "I assumed that Devlin called you."

  "And I told you he didn't."

  "All right, then, what are you doing here?" she asked, refusing to let herself hope.

  "You haven't been out to the ranch lately." His eyes were unreadable.

  "Pat O'Connor has been seeing your animals. You know that."

  "I thought maybe you'd changed your mind, especially after Ron talked to you."

  "Did you put Ron up to that?" she demanded.

  "I had no idea he planned to talk to you. But I'm glad he did."

  "So am I," she said. "I'm glad we've cleared the air, but Ron was never the reason I stopped coming out to the ranch."

  He studied her for a long time. Finally he said, "I know. I think I finally understand why you walked away and didn't look back."

  Her heart started pounding, the sudden sound echoing in her ears and making her chest hurt. "What do you mean?"

  "You walked away for the same reasons that I walked away from home all those years ago. And I did exactly what my father did, which was to let you go."

  "How did you figure that out?" she whispered.

  "Ron has been a busy guy. After he talked to you, he asked me for a couple of days off. You were right—he had a lot of gambling debts, so I figured that he was off taking care of business. He came back to the ranch yesterday, but he didn't come alone."