His Defender

by Stella Bagwell

  His eyes slipped over her face, then downward to where her top V’d between her breasts before he finally met her gaze. “That’s right. Maggie is still single. She’s had a hard time getting over Hugh’s death.”

  “What about you?” Isabella asked softly.

  “Oh, hell,” he muttered impatiently. “That’s a stupid question. A man never gets over losing his brother. I think of Hugh every day. Sometimes several times a day.”

  She suddenly thought of John and how she might react if something were to happen to him. It would devastate her to lose the only sibling she had. But on the other hand, there were times when days went by without her thinking about John. She supposed it might be different if the two of them were close. But they weren’t, and, she thought sadly, she doubted their relationship would ever change.

  “So you two were close.”

  Even though she’d stated a fact more than asked a question, Ross nodded and grinned. “Hugh was more like me than Seth ever was. Don’t get me wrong, I’m close to Seth, too. But he’s always been a lawman at heart. Hugh liked punching cattle and riding broncs. He was good at it, too. A damn sight better than me.”

  The compliment to his late brother surprised Isabella. She’d expected Ross to be the sort that thought of himself as the best.

  “I’m sorry Hugh’s not here to help you through this,” she said.

  He looked at her, and she could feel his eyes traveling over her hair, which she’d let down from its braid and tied back with a black scarf.

  I’m sure that cowboy thought you were very beautiful.

  Faint color seeped into Isabella’s cheeks as her mother’s words suddenly waltzed through her mind. She had no idea whether Ross thought she was beautiful, but she did know he looked at her in a way that no man had before, a way that made her feel as though he could see right through her clothing.

  “Hugh wouldn’t like what’s been happening on the ranch here lately,” Ross said, his expression suddenly turning grim. “Not even a little bit.”

  “What about your other brother?” Isabella asked curiously. “Does he know Victoria’s husband was shot with your rifle?”

  “No. He doesn’t even know Victoria and Jess have gotten married. You see, Seth is a Texas Ranger and sometimes he goes off on undercover assignments. When that happens we can’t get in touch with him.” He shook his head. “That’s not entirely right. I expect we could. If it was a dire emergency we could contact his captain down in San Antonio. But this isn’t dire enough…yet.”

  Isabella wondered how bad things would have to get before the Ranger was called in. Attempted murder to their brother-in-law wasn’t exactly a minor squabble. Aloud, she said, “Well, I hope it doesn’t become any worse than it already is.”

  Grinning as though he didn’t have a worry in the world, Ross turned and walked to the other side of the room where a small bar quartered off one corner. “Would you like a drink before we go into dinner?”

  “No. I don’t drink.”

  “It doesn’t have to be alcoholic. You can have juice or a soft drink,” he offered.

  “All right. Just make it small. I need to save room to try out Marina’s cooking.”

  She moved toward the front of the room as he filled two glasses with crushed ice.

  “You’re in for a treat,” Ross said. “Nobody can cook like Marina.”

  After filling the squatty tumblers with cola, he carried them both to where she was standing by a huge picture window. Beyond the wide glass, dusk was falling, merging the shadows of the distant ranch yard. Lights streamed from the log bunkhouse and horses quietly milled in nearby pens. It was a heavenly sight.

  “Twilight and a cowboy’s day is done,” he murmured.

  She took the glass he offered and as she looked up at him, the contentment she found on his face revealed more to her about Ross Ketchum than anything he’d said so far.

  The T Bar K wasn’t just a ranch or a job to him. It was his love, his life. Without it, he’d be a lost man. Just as she would be lost if she couldn’t fulfill her dream of helping her people.

  “How long has Marina worked for your family?”

  “Oh, about forty years probably. She was here before I was born. And that was thirty-five years ago.”

  Isabella watched him tilt the glass to his lips while thinking those thirty-five years had turned him into a prime male specimen. Just looking at him took her breath.

  “She must feel like family to you.”

  Ross nodded. “After Mom died, I guess Victoria and I both looked to Marina to take her place. ’Course, she couldn’t. Not entirely. But she made the empty hole feel not so empty. If you know what I mean.”

  Something about his words tightened her throat and forced her to look away from him. Up until tonight, he’d projected the picture of a cocky man, indifferent to the wants and needs of others, confident that nothing and no one could touch him. But now she was seeing a different side of him, a side that said he loved and needed and hurt just like any other man.

  “Yes. I believe I do know what you mean,” she murmured.

  He smiled at her over the rim of his glass and she felt her heart kick into overdrive, a reaction that irritated her greatly. What was the matter with her? Had she forgotten the white father who’d rejected her? The white lover who’d shunned her people? Ross might not be prejudiced, but he was an admitted playboy. That should be enough to keep her senses on the right track.

  “We’ve been doing a lot of talking about me and my family,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me about yours?”

  Turning her head away from him, she stared out the window as night fell over the foothills of the San Juan’s. “There’s not much to tell. I was born on the Jicarilla Apache reservation and I guess I’ll probably die there.”

  The faint rustle of clothing warned Isabella he was moving closer. Her breath caught in her throat.

  “Is your family still living there?” he asked.

  She released the trapped air and sucked in another long breath before she answered. “My mother, a grandfather and a godmother.”

  “Do you have any siblings?” he asked.

  She stifled a moan as she felt his fingers touch her hair ever so slightly.

  “An older half brother. He’s a doctor and lives in California.”

  “Do you see him often?”

  With him standing so close, she could hardly think. Heat from his body radiated into hers and warmed her with the unbidden urge to turn and touch him. But the wary, sensible side of her realized that a touch would lead to a kiss, and a kiss would lead to…she couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t ever allow herself to imagine Ross Ketchum as a lover.

  “Not really,” she answered as she tried to shake away the sensual thoughts. “He has his own life in California and rarely ever sees his family back here on the reservation.”

  “You sound a little bitter. Do you two not get along?”

  One of her shoulders lifted and fell. “We don’t argue, if that’s what you mean. We just have different priorities in life.”

  “What about your father?” he asked, his voice dropping to a husky note.

  Isabella fought the urge to shiver as his fingers began to slide through her hair in much the same way she’d seen him stroke the horse’s mane yesterday. Never in her life had she been so completely aware of a man.

  “He’s dead,” she said bluntly.

  There was a pause, then he said, “Sounds like we have something in common. We’ve both lost our fathers.”

  No, Isabella thought bitterly. He’d lost his father. She’d never had one. His father had left him a legacy. Hers had left her illegitimate.

  “Not really,” she said thickly.

  His fingertips brushed her neck, sending rivers of fire across her skin. Her eyes wide, she turned sharply toward him.

  “What are you doing?” she demanded.

  One corner of his mouth crooked upward. “I’m just trying to find out if you’r
e really as soft as you look.”

  Isabella wanted to be angry with him, but something inside her was melting and she couldn’t seem to do a thing to stop it.

  “I’m not here for your amusement,” she said as primly as she could manage. “I’m here to keep you from ending up behind bars.”

  His brows lifted and the grooves at the side of his mouth deepened. “You didn’t have to remind me of that.”

  “Maybe I should remind you that I’m not your type.”

  With a soft chuckle his arms slid around her waist, his head bent down to hers. “I’m beginning to think I made a mistake about that,” he murmured.

  And he was about to make another one, Isabella thought wildly. Or was she the one who was about to make the mistake? She couldn’t let this man kiss her! Everything about him said he was a heartbreaker. But everything inside her was yearning to see if the sizzle from his hands would match the taste of his lips.

  Her gaze was settling on the object of her thoughts when a knock sounded behind them. Muttering a curse, Ross quickly lifted his head to see Marina standing in the open archway leading into the living area.

  The woman’s smooth expression didn’t falter as she eyed Ross’s hand resting possessively against Isabella’s back.

  “Supper is ready,” she announced.

  An odd mixture of disappointment and relief swirled through Isabella, leaving her weak and confused.

  “We’ll be right there, Marina,” he said, then smiling down at Isabella, he offered her his arm.

  Because her knees were like two pieces of cooked spaghetti, she gratefully curled both hands around the hard muscles of his upper arm.

  “Ready?” he prompted.

  For you or supper? Isabella bit her tongue to keep from asking as she nodded and allowed him to lead her out of the room.

  Chapter Four

  “I guess I should apologize,” Ross said to her moments later as they walked through the quiet ranch house.

  Isabella gave him a sidelong glance. He didn’t seem the sort of man to apologize for anything. “For what?” she asked warily.

  “We won’t be eating in the dining room. Since I’m the only one living in the house anymore, it saves Marina a lot of steps. And the dining room is just too formal for my taste, anyway. I hope you don’t mind eating in the kitchen.”

  The fact that he was considerate of Marina both surprised and touched Isabella. Even though he’d intimated that the cook was like family, he was a man after all, and men were often times blind to all the work it took to run a household. Apparently Ross Ketchum could be thoughtful.

  “I’ve lived ninety percent of my life on the reservation, Ross. Believe me, I’m not accustomed to being formal. The kitchen sounds nice,” she told him.

  And cozy, Isabella thought as they entered the room with a low ceiling supported by huge beams and Spanish tile shining on the floor. The long table was made of varnished pine planks and took up a good portion of the space. A few steps away from the table, a row of potted succulents grew near a wide window.

  At one corner of the table, Ross pulled out a chair for her. Once she was seated, he took the chair at the end.

  “Where’s Marina?” Isabella asked as she glanced over to the part of the room where a gas range, refrigerator and a working countertop took up one solid wall.

  “She goes home about this time every evening. Her house is a quarter mile on down the mountain. Past the ranch yard.”

  So Marina lived on the T Bar K, Isabella mused. Obviously the Ketchums made sure their employees were well cared for. “I didn’t notice another house when I drove in. Can you see Marina’s place from the road?”

  Ross handed her a platter heaped with smoked ribs. She placed three on her plate and handed the platter back to him.

  As he took it from her, he said, “No. Marina’s little house is hidden by a stand of pines. Dad had it built for her years ago.”

  “He must have been a generous man,” Isabella remarked.

  His expression turned wry. “In some ways he was generous. But in Marina’s case, he was selfish. He wanted to make sure she was always around to do the cooking and to help Mom.”

  “Well, from what I can see, Marina wouldn’t be any where else but here on the ranch. Though it does surprise me that she leaves you with the dirty dishes.”

  He grinned. “She leaves them. But I don’t clean them up. She’ll be back at four in the morning to do all that and get breakfast ready.”

  Isabella stared at him. “Four! You get up at four?”

  He passed her a bowl of coleslaw. “No. I get up at four-thirty.”

  Isabella was amazed. The man didn’t have to punch a time clock. He owned this place. He could do as he pleased. “But why so early?”

  He shot her a look of disbelief. “To shave, shower, dress, drink coffee, eat breakfast. The things a normal man does before he goes to work.”

  “And when do you go to work?” she asked curiously.

  Her question appeared to amuse him. As if she should already know the answer. “Daylight, Isabella. A cowboy starts at daylight.”

  “Oh. So what about reading the newspaper or watching the morning news? You don’t do that before you leave the house?”

  He chuckled. “How could we get a daily paper this far out? And I don’t try to keep up with the news, local or otherwise. I have too much on my own plate to try to remember other people’s problems. Once in a while I’ll listen to the market report on the radio. But that’s a waste, too. Once your cattle go into the sale ring, you’re going to find out real quick what they’re really worth.”

  She glanced at him as she continued filling her plate with the vegetables Marina had prepared. “So what do you do for entertainment? Or is the ranch your entertainment?”

  One corner of his mouth twisted upward as his eyes scanned her face. “Oh, I like to break horses. I enjoy a good hunting trip now and then. And I like to read.”

  “Read?” That was the last thing she’d expected him to say and the surprise must have shown on her face, because he suddenly frowned at her.

  “Yeah, read. Just because I wear a hat and spurs doesn’t mean I’m stupid or uneducated.”

  She frowned back at him. “I wasn’t implying anything of the sort. I just can’t imagine you doing something so…sedentary.”

  A playful grin returned to his lips. “Well, a man has to rest sometime.”

  The image of him lying in bed, a book propped against his naked chest, was not the sort of thing she needed in her mind right now. Especially with the two of them alone and her heart beating an eager little tap dance against her ribs.

  “What do you read?”

  “Some fiction. But mainly American history. Most people don’t understand that the past and how our nation was molded and built affects the way we live today. Take this ranch, for example. When my father and uncle first began to run cattle here, they had to deal with rustlers on a regular basis.”

  She picked up a rib and bit into the juicy beef. “But you don’t have to deal with them now, do you?”

  “Hell, yes! You’ve got to keep every cow and calf branded, tagged and earmarked. And some son-of-a-gun stole my stallion! That ought to tell you how much rustling still goes on these days.”

  “I think I remember you mentioning something about a stallion,” she said. “When was he stolen?”

  “I can’t give you an exact date. Because I’m not exactly sure when he might have been taken. Nearly three months ago, I turned him out to pasture. Something I don’t often do. But Snip had cut his hock and I wanted him to rest that leg.”

  “So you don’t know the exact day the stallion went missing?”

  Ross shook his head. “No. He’d usually show up around the ranch yard every two or three days to mooch a bucket of grain. When I realized he hadn’t made his regular appearance, me and some of the boys rode out to look for him. That’s when they found the John Doe remains.”

  Isabella’s brows dre
w together as she tried to connect all the information she’d been given. “Neal told me that the coroner has already ruled that a homicide.”

  “That’s right,” Ross said grimly. “That’s why Jess and Victoria were out there at the arroyo that evening. They were searching for evidence when someone took a shot at him.”

  She looked at him as her mind began to click and turn. “I can’t help but wonder if your missing stallion has anything to do with the murder. Or the shooting.”

  “Jess thinks there might be a connection. But I don’t see how.”

  “How many people knew about Snip?”

  The rib in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. “Hundreds of people have been here on the ranch to buy cattle or horses. Any of them could have seen the horse and admire him. But I can’t imagine any rancher stealing from me that way. It just isn’t done. Besides, the horse is registered and an identification number is tattooed inside his lip. Whoever stole him can’t sell him for money. At least, not in a sale ring. They’d be caught. None of it makes any sense,” he added.

  “The horse could have simply died out on the range somewhere,” she suggested. “Did that ever cross your mind?”

  “I’ve thought about that. But then one of us here on the ranch would have found his carcass.”

  “The T Bar K goes for more than a hundred thousand acres, I was told. You couldn’t possibly search every foot of it.”

  “That’s true,” he agreed. “But Snip never roamed that far from the ranch house. If he was killed by lightning or died from colic we would have seen the buzzards circling.”

  “That’s a horrible thought,” she said with a shudder.

  He looked at her as though her softness was out of place in his world. “No, it’s just a fact of nature, Isabella. Everything has to eat.”

  She breathed deeply through her nostrils as she pushed the image he’d painted out of her mind. “Dear Lord, you must be a hard man to talk that way about your own pet.”