Hailey nodded and reached for it. Mariah watched her slide the pages of apps until she found a game she liked and started playing. Baron yawned and put his head in the girl’s lap. Perfect!
Mariah trotted up the stairs and breathed a quick prayer. “Please, God, protect us. Get us out of this safely.” She peered out the tack-room door and heard someone yelling. Jackson.
“I don’t understand, Lance. I thought we were friends.” He was hunched down behind the big riding mower, looking outside.
“Ha! You’re so naive, J.D.”
Mariah slipped out of the tack room and scooted past the truck and into a stall, her heart pounding like a jackhammer.
“You never even knew that Misty and I were playing around behind your back. The great Jackson Durant, star quarterback of the Texas Tornados. You could zigzag out of tackles all day but couldn’t hang on to your own wife.”
Mariah saw Jackson’s shoulders sag. The arrow had hit its mark. Her heart felt as if it would crack open. So, it was Lance who’d stolen Misty’s affections, just like he’d stolen Hailey. Mariah had suspected as much when she’d seen some of the risqué photos in the closet. What a foolish woman Misty must have been to choose a man like Lance over Jackson.
“But why now? Why are you doing this after six years?” Jackson’s voice sounded husky. Mariah wanted so badly to go to him—to touch him. To offer comfort, knowing how much he must be hurting. But she needed to make sure Hailey didn’t come upstairs.
“I tried to forget what you did for four long years. But the team was never the same after you left. You’re the reason I don’t have a Super Bowl ring. If you’d only finished out that season instead of running off after Misty died, we’d have won the play-offs and the Super Bowl.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” Jackson hollered back.
“We were undefeated. We were the best. At least until you walked away, leaving us all high and dry.”
Jackson eased his head up over the top of the mower. A gunshot burst past and shattered several panes of an old window that leaned against the barn wall. Mariah squealed and covered her mouth.
Jackson looked over his shoulder at her and scowled. He swung his arm in the air and mouthed, “Get down.”
“And you’re the reason Misty died. You took her from me. That hurt worse than anything else.” Lance fired off another shot as if to emphasize his point. “When I first came here, I thought maybe I’d get even by taking Kelly away from you. Oh, I gave it a good try, but she was too immature.”
Jackson clenched and unclenched his fist. Mariah worried he’d do something rash. How much could one man take before he exploded? Help him, God.
“When I got hurt, I lost my advertising contract, which bankrupted me. I’m losing everything while you just keep getting more and more.”
“Things aren’t important—people are. I cared for you.”
“And that only made things worse. You never cared about being rich, but I did. That story the reporter planned to write would only help you.”
“I don’t see it that way.” Jackson cleared his throat. “Why take Hailey?”
“The older she gets, the more she resembles Misty. You stole Misty from me, so I decided to let you know how it feels to have the one you love most yanked from your life. I was supposed to be Hailey’s dad, you know. Misty wanted me to raise her, not you.”
Jackson swallowed the knot building in his throat. “And what about Ms. Garrett?”
“Casualty of war. She got in the way, so I had to get rid of her. Just like I plan to do with you.”
SIXTEEN
Jackson needed a plan. Somehow he had to get out of the barn and draw the fire away from Mariah and Hailey. He scanned the barn’s interior. There was no rear exit, and the only window was blocked.
To his left, a five-inch section of window not covered by the cabinet revealed jagged shards of glass framing the hole made by a bullet. Even if he could clear the window of enough glass that he could crawl out, the noise would surely attract Lance before he could finish the task.
“I’d planned on taking Hailey and hightailing it out of here—just as soon as I’d thrown you off the trail by helping with the search,” Lance hollered. “I never figured you’d come here to look for her. We’re supposed to be friends.”
Jackson snorted his indignation. “You’ve got an odd idea of friendship. Destroying property. Burning my barn. Stealing my daughter.”
“She was supposed to be my daughter. She even looks more like me than you.”
For a brief second, a horrible thought unlike anything he’d ever experienced rattled his whole being. Was it possible that Lance was Hailey’s biological father?
No!
Jackson sagged against a hay bale, battered, as if he’d been sucked up inside a tornado. His arms shook and the strength fled from his legs. If Lance and Misty’s affair had gone on for very long, it could be possible. After all, Hailey favored her mother and didn’t look much like him.
God, how much more can I take? Please tell me it’s not true.
He’d love Hailey like his own, no matter if he wasn’t her biological dad, but he had to know the truth. “Just how long did your thing with my wife last?”
“Long enough. Doesn’t take much time to fall in love with a woman as beautiful as her. It only took me a couple of months of listening to Misty’s stories of how you didn’t really love her, how football was more important than she was, to realize I wanted to help her. And I would have if you hadn’t killed her.”
Lance’s accusation hit its mark, and Jackson winced. He hadn’t been a good husband to Misty, but he’d had no part in her death. “I didn’t kill her. She died in a car accident.”
A couple of months, Lance had said. Relief flooded Jackson. Lance couldn’t be Hailey’s father, then. Thank You, Lord, for that.
Jackson inhaled a strengthening breath. He couldn’t stay here all day and do nothing. Peering around the bale, he saw Lance pacing alongside his truck. Forward. Back. Forward. Jackson glanced at Mariah to make sure she was still out of the line of fire. Worry was etched on her pretty features. He had to do something to save his daughter and the woman he’d come to love.
He waited for the moment when Lance turned and paced away. Muscles coiled, he leaped forward, running hunched over to the front of the barn, just to the right of the opening made by his truck. Mariah’s loud gasp echoed in his ears.
He peeked through a crack in the wall. Lance was on his forward pace now. He stopped and pointed the rifle toward the barn. The loathsome expression on his face looked nothing like the man Jackson had considered his best friend. “You still killed her. You were so caught up in your career that you ignored her. She’d have been better off if you’d never married her.”
Jackson wanted to respond that Lance was right, but he didn’t want to give away his new position. In truth, he probably shouldn’t have married Misty. They had both been too self-centered. Too demanding. Each wanting things their own way. But if he hadn’t married, then he wouldn’t have Hailey.
The bright flash of a reflection darted through the crack in the wall. Jackson peered out. A solid black SUV raced up the driveway. Lance spun around, facing the vehicle.
Recognizing his opportunity, Jackson ducked through the opening and dashed forth like a quarterback with the football charging for the goal line. Adrenaline surged, spurring him faster. Lance pivoted and raised the rifle.
Jackson took a flying leap. Lance fired, sending a bullet whizzing in the air. Behind him he heard Mariah’s scream. Jackson plowed into Lance and grabbed hold of the rifle as they collided hard against the ground. Lance forced him over and sat on him, still wrestling for the weapon. Pale blue eyes, cold as the Arctic, impaled Jackson. Lance’s face contorted into something evil as he forced the rifle toward Jackson’s t
hroat. “Should have done you in a long time ago,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
Suddenly, gunfire echoed, jolting them both. Lance glanced up and froze.
“Hold it right there. This fight’s over.” With great relief, Jackson recognized Riley Kincaid’s voice. Still, he kept a tight hold on the rifle, pushing it upward while Lance was distracted.
Lance glared at Jackson, breath heaving from their brawl. Jackson could see in his eyes that Lance wasn’t ready to give up. He’d known him long enough to know he wouldn’t go down without a fight.
With a fierce growl, sounding something like a savage beast, Lance yanked the rifle from Jackson’s grasp. He jumped up, spun and aimed it directly toward the barn. Toward Mariah, who stood just outside the barn with a shovel in her hands.
“No!” Jackson yelled. He pushed up from the ground, as if in slow motion.
Gunfire rent the air. Lance jerked and turned backed toward Jackson, pain and confusion etched on his face. A growing circle of crimson stained his left shoulder. He dropped to his knees, dropped the rifle, then fell on the ground. Detective Kincaid rushed forward and kicked the weapon away from Lance’s reach. Detective Davidson hustled past Jackson, pulled out his handcuffs and snapped them onto Lance’s wrists. A dark red spot also covered the back of Lance’s shirt where the detective’s bullet had hit its mark.
Jackson’s gaze rushed past them to Mariah. Thank God! She looked fine. Real fine.
She threw aside the shovel and jogged toward him, relief evident on her pretty face. He wrapped her in his arms, ever so thankful for the positive outcome of the day’s events. “Hailey still downstairs?”
Mariah nodded.
“What was the shovel for?” he whispered in her ear.
“I was just about to rescue you when Detective Kincaid showed up.”
Jackson grinned against her hair. He could see Mariah as a warrior princess rushing out of the barn in her lavender jacket, shovel held high to rescue her man.
* * *
Thursday morning, Mariah wiped off the fog her breath made on the kitchen window and stared at her partially repaired Mustang. Tim Denton had been able to get it drivable, but it would need bodywork once she got back home. A wealth of emotions surged through her. Thankfulness that neither Hailey nor Jackson had been injured in the ordeal with Lance. Gratitude that her story was finished and that she was certain her boss would be pleased and her job secure. But most of all, she’d met the Lord. And her life would never be the same.
And then there was Jackson. Where did he fit in the scope of things? When she’d pulled into Angelfire’s driveway a week ago, she’d never dreamed how much her life would change. All because of one man—and his God.
But Jackson hadn’t repeated his words of love since the one time in Lance’s barn. She understood since getting Hailey back he’d concentrated on his child and making sure she was okay, as he should have, but she hadn’t expected him to grow more distant from her. She missed the closeness they’d shared.
“That was Howard Stunkard on the phone just now.” Jackson stepped up behind her, his voice low. “He wanted to tell me how glad he was that Hailey was okay. And to wait a few days till things settled down before coming to pick up the gelding. Funny, he’s the last person I expected to be concerned for Hailey.”
She didn’t turn, afraid that he’d see the emotions she was trying so hard to hold back. Whenever she thought of leaving, tears burned her eyes. Jackson heaved a loud sigh that tickled her hair. “I talked to the sheriff while you were packing. They...uh...found Ms. Garrett’s body in the trunk of Lance’s Camaro, and it turns out the tire treads we found down by the Angelfire sign matched the ones on Lance’s car. The detectives feel certain that forensics will prove the bullet found out by the creek was from the rifle Lance shot at us. Looks like he will be going to prison for the rest of his life—if he doesn’t get the death penalty.”
“I’m sorry, Jackson. I know he was your friend.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, too.”
The mudroom door squeaked open, and Deuce and Justin walked in. The old man’s frizzy hair had been tossed around by the stiff breeze outside, making him look like Albert Einstein. Justin tugged off his hat and stood there studying the floor. Mariah wondered how she could have suspected the shy young man to be involved with the problems at the ranch.
“I’m gonna miss you, missy.” Deuce shuffled across the room and enveloped her in a big, bone-crunching hug.
Mariah battled tears again. This old man had become like a loving grandfather to her. “Same here.”
He took her by the shoulders. “Anytime you’re in our neck of the woods, you stop by, and I’ll fix you a fancy meal.”
She grinned. “Thanks. I’ll be dreaming of your fried chicken.”
Deuce chuckled. “You take care now.” He gave her a final hug and ambled back to stand by Justin. When Justin didn’t say anything, Deuce nudged him in the arm.
Justin glanced up at her. “Nice meetin’ you, ma’am. I’ll keep an eye on Lilly.” His gaze darted back to the floor, and his ears turned red.
Mariah smiled. “Thank you. I’m glad to know that.”
Deuce nodded at her and then all but shoved Justin back out the door. Fighting a melancholy smile, she jiggled the car keys in her pocket. Her luggage and laptop were already loaded. She’d said her goodbyes to Kelly yesterday and to Hailey before she had left for school earlier.
Now it was time to go home, but she couldn’t take the first step toward her car.
Jackson invaded her space, sending her heart into overdrive. He gently rested his chin on her head and sighed. “I wish we’d had more time.” His husky voice held a wistful tone.
Mariah closed her eyes. There was nothing she wanted more than to stay right here and be with Jackson and Hailey for the rest of her life. Even a career as a reporter paled in comparison. She wanted to tell Jackson so badly that she’d given her heart to God, but she knew if she did, he’d ask her to stay. And a man like Jackson deserved someone much better than a person with her history. “I have to go. My deadline is tomorrow.”
Jackson took a step back and looked down, his lips pressed into a thin white line. Had something she said hurt him? He seemed upset. After a moment, he sighed again. “I don’t suppose it would do any good to ask you not to write your story?”
Mariah gasped. “How could you ask that? You know I have to do my job.”
His jaw tightened, and he stared at a window. “We’ve been through enough here. We don’t need the people coming to Angelfire that your story is sure to bring.”
“You have no idea what my story says.” She lifted up her chin. “I thought you knew me better than to write something that would hurt you.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned back, his face cold. “I barely know you at all.”
Mariah battled the tears stinging her eyes. The deep ache that settled in her heart sent a shiver through her. Jackson had changed since his fight with Lance. He’d pulled away, and his actions and words were breaking her heart. Just like her father, she couldn’t make him love her. “I need to go.”
She picked her purse up from the table and hurried to the door, a big part of her wishing she’d never come to Angelfire. Never met Jackson. Because then she wouldn’t be missing him already.
Jackson opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but Mariah knew if she didn’t leave quickly she was going to break down. The pain in his eyes was almost her undoing.
“Mariah, wait—”
“Goodbye, Jackson.” She hurried through the mudroom, pushed open the storm door and ran down the porch steps. Inside her car, she twisted on the ignition and threw the transmission into Drive. She carefully avoided Jackson’s mangled maple tree and raced the car down the gravel drive with Baron barking his farewell as he
ran alongside her. Tears coursed down her cheeks, and she wondered if her heart would ever be free from its pain.
* * *
Jackson felt as if someone had impaled him with a sword. Betrayed again. First Misty. Then Lance. And now Mariah. He’d always heard bad things came in threes.
He shoved the storm door open and stepped outside. The dust from Mariah’s car was still settling. Wasn’t that somehow poetic? He was sure that a long time would pass before the dust from Mariah’s visit settled in his heart.
Why did she have to be so stubborn? Was her story—her career—more important to her than him?
Evidently so.
He snorted a cynical laugh.
At least she hadn’t left him for another man.
It was better this way. He wasn’t marrying material.
A deep loneliness penetrated his being. Jackson sank down on the step, ignoring the cold seeping into his body from the frigid wooden planks. His heart felt as though it would implode. His emotions had been running at full speed, and now a meltdown was coming.
This was all his fault. His marriage to Misty had gone sour before they’d ever reached the end of the first quarter. He never should have allowed his attraction to Mariah to grow. Because now he loved her.
But she’d left him.
Just like Misty.
SEVENTEEN
Mariah closed her Bible and stared out over the railing. She loved having her devotions outside on the apartment’s small balcony when the winter temperature was warm enough.
Once again she’d meditated on Isaiah 40:31. “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.”
She was finding that verse to be true. Each day, the Lord had given her the strength to put one foot in front of the other, even though her heart was still hurting. How could she love a man so much when she’d known him only a short time?
She’d never been one to believe in love at first sight, but her feelings for Jackson came close to that. He was such a good man. She’d met several single men who seemed nice at the church she’d been attending for the past two weeks, but none measured up to Jackson’s standard.
Rancher Under Fire Page 19
