Rancher Under Fire

by Vickie McDonough

  Who could hate him so much that they’d risk killing his daughter?

  * * *

  With both hands clasping her warm mug, Mariah sat at the kitchen table, sipping her morning coffee. After a quick breakfast, Jackson and Hailey had made a mad dash out the door to the entrance of the ranch to meet a neighbor who would take Hailey to school. Deuce had disappeared into his room for his morning devotions, muttering they needed all the prayers they could get.

  Mariah hoped she hadn’t offended him when she’d refused to eat seconds. As delicious as the bacon and eggs with homemade biscuits and gravy were, she couldn’t have eaten another bite. If she ate like that every meal, she’d probably gain ten pounds before she went home.

  She studied Hailey’s childish drawings stuck on the refrigerator door with magnets and smiled. Contentment drifted around her like a fresh snowfall. This house felt peaceful. Like a real home—something she’d never really had. Oh, growing up she’d had a place to live, if you could call that dilapidated trailer livable, but it wasn’t homey like this place.

  This family truly loved and supported one another. Jackson’s affection for his daughter was evident with his twinkle-eyed smiles, bear hugs and quick kisses to the top of her head. He couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off Hailey last night. Had he been thinking how close he’d come to losing her?

  As Mariah had lain in bed last night, she’d pondered the snake incident and why someone would have put it in the barn—she had no doubts someone had. Rattlesnakes weren’t active this far north in December, so it meant someone had kept it in a warm environment until it was needed. Had they hoped to kill Jackson—or did they not care who they hurt? Could the incident be connected to the horses getting loose?

  She had found nothing on the internet about Jackson that would warrant someone wishing him dead. What a loss it would be to Hailey to lose her loving father after growing up without her mother. Mariah stared into her coffee cup. She’d never known a father’s affection—could barely even imagine what it must be like to have a man love and protect her. Her father had never been affectionate or caring. The only thing she could ever remember him hugging was his liquor bottle, and because of his drunken state, she’d been forced to wait on him and her brother constantly, even as a young child.

  By the time she was twelve, her mother was so beaten down and frail that a simple cold turned into pneumonia. Mariah grasped the warm cup. She didn’t want to remember those awful days before her mama died, but the memories gushed back. Her father had said they couldn’t afford to take Mama to the hospital, but if they had she might have lived. Looking back on the situation now, Mariah wondered if her father had refused to allow Mama to go because he knew the doctor would have found signs of abuse. As she cared for her mother, she’d seen the angry bruises and welts her clothing normally hid. Tears dampened Mariah’s eyes, and her breathing deepened. Her father was a coward—a man who hit his wife and his daughter.

  The day her mama died, she became the maid—or rather, the slave. Cooking and cleaning. Washing the clothes. Even doing the grocery shopping, all while trying to keep her grades at school at a passing level. She pushed away the morose memories and glanced at the remaining biscuits sitting on a plate in the middle of the table. Why could a wrinkled old man make golden, flaky ones from scratch while she burned the kind that came from a can?

  “Why so serious?”

  Mariah jumped, sloshing coffee onto her fingers. Wincing, she set the mug down, grabbed a napkin from the holder in the center of the table and wiped off the hot liquid. She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t even heard Jackson return.

  “Guess you got Hailey off to school?” As a reporter, she was an expert at deflecting conversation.

  “Yeah.” A gentle smile tilted his lips. “But I had a hard time. She wanted to stay home because you were here—and honestly, I almost caved after what happened last night. But I made her go. I told her you’d be here several days. Plus, I reminded her that tomorrow is Saturday.”

  Mariah sipped what was left of her coffee and watched over the top of her mug as Jackson unsnapped his denim jacket and hung it and his hat on hooks in the mudroom. He dressed like she imagined a typical rancher did, in a blue plaid flannel shirt and jeans. The chair across from hers squeaked as he lowered his big body onto it. Steam spiraled upward from the cup of coffee he poured from the stainless-steel carafe. He lifted the pitcher in her direction, and she slid her cup forward, letting him refill it, and then he set the carafe on the side of the table and picked up his cup. As he sipped his brew, his gaze captured hers.

  Goose bumps charged up her arms. She’d never had breakfast and morning coffee in a man’s home before, especially not with a guy this good-looking. There was something satisfying about it, and the fact that she wasn’t shaking in her boots at being alone with him gave her hope that someday she might be comfortable in a relationship with a man. Could it be someone like Jackson Durant?

  No. She dropped her gaze to study the tablecloth’s plaid pattern. Her brother had been a football player, basking in the adoration of the female fans at their high school. It had turned her stomach. She knew well that kind of man could also turn his physical prowess into a weapon if he chose to. She had a few scars to prove it.

  “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

  Mariah glanced up, surprised that he’d called her “pretty.” Instantly, Jackson’s dark blue gaze captured hers. He had beautiful eyes—like a summer’s sky at twilight. Not pale blue like Lance Jordan’s but more like dazzling sapphires. And those long, black lashes. Why did Mother Nature give men lashes like that while women had to apply layers of mascara to achieve the same effect?

  “You’re awfully quiet. Guess you’re not a morning person.” Jackson sipped his coffee then reached for a biscuit.

  “Sorry. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.”

  “Worried about your car?”

  Her car? She probably should be thinking about the vehicle, but it hadn’t even entered her mind. She needed to call her insurance company and also let her boss know she wouldn’t be back on Monday. “I hope I didn’t kill your tree. Will you tell me next spring? I can replace it if I did.”

  Jackson looked surprised by her offer but waved a dismissive hand in the air. “It’s just a tree. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But it’s my fault.”

  “No, you’re right that the filly ran in front of you. That’s partly my fault because I let Hailey walk her around.”

  He stared at her while he munched another biscuit. Mariah could see the wheels turning in his mind—probably contemplating how she’d been driving too fast or how he wasn’t prepared for her to be a woman. She wondered why his brother had kept that bit of information from him. Brothers had a way of messing things up. At least, hers sure had.

  “How’s your knee today?”

  “Better. A bit sore, but I’ll live.”

  “You, uh, think you might feel up to taking a tour of the ranch?”

  Her heart jolted as hope soared. Had he changed his mind about the interview?

  He held up his palm. “Now don’t get ahead of me. I didn’t say anything about doing the interview. It’s just that...” He pursed his lips and stared out the window for a long moment then faced her again. “I could use a fresh set of eyes. I’ve had some strange things happening lately and can’t decide if they are a coincidence or if someone’s out to get me.”

  Mariah straightened in her chair, sniffing the makings of a real story. “You mean like a snake in the barn?” She wished she had her digital tablet to make notes on, but then, Jackson would probably clamp his mouth shut if he caught her using it.

  “Yeah.” Resting his elbow on the table, he plowed his fingers through his hair then leaned his head against his hand. “I don’t know. I thought I was just being a worrywart until last nig
ht’s event. I’ve had fences cut and horses get out onto the road several times in the past few weeks. Yesterday, six got out. I found five of them, but one’s still missing. Course, it’s possible she’s just hiding out somewhere on the ranch. She’s due to foal soon. She may have wandered off to give birth.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad. At least you caught all but the one.”

  “Yeah, but there are no lights on the county roads at night. Someone could have run into one of the horses while they were out and damaged their car or gotten hurt, not to mention injuring the horse.”

  “Do you think it could be teenagers?”

  He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Got any enemies? Unhappy customers?”

  “No, not really.”

  “What about competitors for horse sales?”

  “I did recently sign a contract to supply the Oklahoma Rodeo Federation with horses and some bulls, but I don’t know anyone who’d go to such extremes to keep me from selling a few dozen horses, though. All the folks I know around here are good, solid folk. They help their neighbors, not destroy their property.”

  “It’s not that way where I come from.” She pushed away that troubling thought and tapped her fingers on the table, wondering if now was a good time to mention the black-truck incident. Maybe it was somehow connected. “There’s something I probably should tell you.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What’s that?”

  She stared out the window, took a breath and told him about stopping at the Tank Up and the black trucks that followed her. “I don’t know what might have happened if I hadn’t reached your drive just when I did. That truck was closing in on me.”

  “Why would anyone chase you? Nobody here knows you.”

  She shrugged. “I wondered the same thing. But hearing about your troubles, I can’t help wondering if they might be related.”

  Jackson rubbed his nape. “I doubt it. My problems started before you arrived.”

  “How long ago?”

  “A couple of weeks, I reckon.”

  “And you don’t remember anything that happened before that to cause someone to be upset with you?”

  He shook his head. “Everybody in these parts is friendly, and most seem proud to have an ex–pro ball player—two actually—as neighbors. Some have even helped steer strangers away when they’ve asked for directions to Angelfire.”

  Mariah smiled. “No wonder it’s so hard to find this place.”

  “I like my privacy.” He grinned but then sobered. “It keeps my daughter safe—at least it has until yesterday.”

  She straightened. “You don’t think someone’s out to hurt Hailey, do you?”

  “No. There’s no reason to believe that.”

  Mariah wrapped her palms around her coffee mug. “What about the rattlesnake? My gut says someone planted it in the barn.”

  His sober gaze captured hers. “I wondered that, too. Someone would have to hate me an awful lot to risk killing one of us—and that’s what would have happened if that diamondback had bitten anyone.”

  “You’ve lived in the real world before—the cutthroat world where people find it easier to take what they want than work hard. It makes more sense that snake was planted than it just happened to show up, especially with it being almost winter.”

  “It’s true that I used to bask in the limelight, but it’s different here. These people are different. Most are good churchgoing folk.” Jackson lurched from his chair and paced the room. “I can’t believe anyone I know would risk hurting my daughter. There has to be another explanation.”

  “Just because someone attends church, it doesn’t make them a saint.” She stood and walked over to where he stared out the window. “So, if it’s not someone from around here causing your problems, who else could it be? Someone from your past?”

  He was silent for a long moment then blew out a loud sigh. “I have no idea.”

  She hated seeing the vulnerability in this big, rugged man. She laid her hand on his forearm. “I’ll do whatever I can to help you figure out what’s going on.”

  “I appreciate that.” He nodded and looked down. “But don’t think I’ll change my mind about the story.”

  She tightened her jaw and stepped back. So much for bridging the gap between them. “I understand, but you must also understand that I have a job to do.”

  He spun away from the window. “I need to fix that fence. We can take the tour I mentioned while we’re out there.”

  “We?”

  “You want to see the ranch, don’t you?”

  Maybe she could learn something about him while he was showing her his ranch. She certainly wouldn’t if she stayed here and let him go alone. Mariah nodded.

  He stared at her for a long moment then quirked his intriguing mouth to one side. “You got anything to wear besides those fancy city duds?”

  She looked at her velour top and knit pants. Fancy city duds? These were her lying-around-don’t-have-to-work-today clothes. Her comfy clothes.

  “You got any jeans? Don’t suppose you have a pair of boots?” His gaze looked hopeful.

  “Jeans, yes. Boots, no.”

  “Well, go change, and I’ll meet you at the barn. I need to pack some supplies.”

  Back in her room, Mariah let her laptop warm up while she donned her jeans and a flannel shirt that she’d tossed in her suitcase at the last moment. She kicked off her slippers then sat at the desk and started typing.

  Jackson Durant—bossy, can be rude, protective of his daughter, obsessive about his privacy. Handsome—amazing dimples when he smiles...

  Mariah blew out a breath, hit the return key and began typing again.

  Hailey—Jackson’s daughter. Cute, sweet, precocious (must take after her mother).

  Lance Jordan—friend, neighbor, played football with Jackson. Cocky. Arrogant.

  Deuce—cook, Jackson’s old friend.

  Justin?

  Kelly—Jackson’s younger sister.

  Evan Durant—Jackson’s brother. Bad feelings between the two?

  Well, it wasn’t much to start with, but it was a beginning. After touring the ranch today, surely she’d have more information for her article. She reached up to close her laptop but paused, and then she added:

  Problems on ranch:

  Rattlesnake in barn.

  Horses getting out of fences.

  Cattle missing.

  Shot-up stock tanks.

  Accidents or sabotage?

  On a whim, she added:

  Black truck chasing cars.

  One way or another, she had to get Jackson to agree to let her do her story. Maybe if she could help him with his problem, he might be more willing to grant the interview.

  * * *

  Considering yesterday’s events, Jackson reached onto the shelf for his gun—the one he’d shot the rattler with—thinking it would be best to stay armed until things settled down. But as he groped along the back of the shelf, he couldn’t find the weapon. He shoved his hands to his hips and looked around the barn. Things had been a bit chaotic, but hadn’t he returned it after making sure Hailey was unhurt? Or had he taken it inside?

  Glancing at his watch, he shook his head. How long did it take for that woman to change clothes?

  He blew out a breath, thinking how pretty Mariah had looked, nibbling on her lip as she contemplated the problems he was having. And he had to admit it was nice to have someone to discuss them with—and to share coffee with. Mariah was a beautiful woman, and those dark eyes of hers seemed to reach into the abyss of his lonely soul. He was starting to like her—a lot.

  Jackson growled, frustrated with his train of thought. He wished he’d never agreed to let Evan arrange the interview. He’d only done it t
o help promote the ranch and to get his brother off his back. The fact that Evan hadn’t mentioned Ms. Reyes was a female reporter still rankled him. The truth of the matter was, he didn’t want anyone—male or female—invading his privacy. He’d done his time and paid his dues to the public when he’d played football. Now he simply wanted a quiet life for him and his daughter.

  As he searched the tack room and several more places where he might have put the gun, his mind drifted back to earlier days. Never once had he regretted walking away from football. Yeah, he missed the game that had been his complete focus from the time he started playing in elementary school. He’d loved the success and attention it had brought him. But that was then.

  He no longer needed swarming fans, people vying for his autograph or sexy cheerleaders begging for his attention to make him feel important. He had God now. Faith had filled a hole that he’d once crammed full with public adoration, success as a football player and the love of a beautiful woman.

  A cold chill galloped down his spine whenever he thought of Misty—the beautiful betrayer.

  “Now who’s the serious one?”

  “What?” Jackson jerked his head up to see Mariah standing in the barn’s entrance.

  “You look like you’re in another world.”

  He had been in another world. One he’d prefer to forget, if not for Hailey. Jackson walked toward the woman in front of him. The citified gal had been replaced by one who looked more like a country girl, but the newness of her clothes and those spotless white sneakers gave her away. Dark blue denim jeans clung to her slim legs like new paint on a barn, and her blue flannel shirt looked as soft as a horse’s muzzle. Her lavender jacket hung open and would look more at home on a ski slope than a ranch. And those shoes. One thing for sure, they wouldn’t be bright white for long. He bit back a smile at the familiar green stain along the sole of one shoe. Wouldn’t this city gal just die if she knew what she was standing in?