A Rancher’s Brand of Justice

by Ann Voss Peterson

  The boy stared at it, lip still trembling. He raised his right hand to his head and tangled his fingers in his hair. His left thumb found his mouth. Tears swamped big blue eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

  Nick blew out a breath. He couldn’t spend time on this. He needed to get on the road, not sit here wrangling his son and waiting for Melissa, the police—or worse, the men who’d shot at his son before—to catch up. “I’m going to start the car and get the movie rolling.” He closed the back door of the king cab and circled the bed. Somewhere in the city a siren screamed.

  He opened the door and climbed behind the wheel. After starting the truck and the movie, he exited the parking structure.

  He half expected the street to be barred by police cars, but traffic flowed freely up and down the boulevard. He could see police barricades still in place in front of the hotel two and a half blocks down. But other than that, the world went on as if nothing had changed.

  Of course he had only to look into his rearview mirror at the little boy, one thumb in mouth, twirling his hair with his other hand, mesmerized by the mini DVD screen to remind himself everything had changed. He wasn’t alone any longer. He had a son to protect. And he was damn well going to do it.

  He pressed the gas and pulled out into traffic. The light ahead changed from green to yellow. The car in front of him slowed. Normally he might hit the gas hard, swerve into the open lane beside him and blast through the light before it switched to red. Maybe he should have now—every second on the street was exposing him to police, maybe even to men with guns—but instead he braked to a stop. Things were different. There was a child in the back.

  And as he came to a halt behind the car stopped at the thick white line, he saw Melissa standing on the corner.

  Oh, hell.

  She started across the street with the other pedestrians hurrying to their cars or home after a long workday. She was going to walk right by them. She was going to see them. And then what was he going to do?

  He looked in the rearview mirror. Cars filled the space behind him. He looked ahead and to the right. Turn. He had to turn before she reached him.

  A crowd of people stepped off the curb, blocking his only escape route. They filed across the street, more people straggling behind them. Melissa came closer. She marched as if on a mission. A mission to find him and Jason, no doubt. She looked straight ahead, her sleek, blond hair blowing back from her cheeks.

  Realizing he was holding his breath, he let it out and scooped another in. Drawing to the middle of the boulevard, she still hadn’t spotted them. He leaned forward as if to urge the pedestrians to clear the crosswalk. He willed the light to change to green.

  She drew even with the right bumper of the car in front of him, still missing him, still looking straight ahead. She crossed in front and stepped up onto the curb.

  The light changed to green. One second passed. Two. The cars to the side started to move.

  “Go,” Nick said to the car ahead. “Come on.”

  The car inched forward.

  On the curb, Melissa Anderson slowed her steps and glanced back over her shoulder.

  Her eyes met Nick’s.

  There he was.

  Melissa stopped in midstride, latching on to Nick Raymond’s hazel gaze. His truck was already moving. Inching forward, nearly on the bumper of the sedan ahead of him. She couldn’t catch him. Not unless she planned to race out into traffic and throw herself into the bed of his moving truck. Not likely.

  But her car was parked nearby.

  She raced down the sidewalk, clawing at the pocket in her bag for her keys, her silver hybrid already in her sights. Traffic moved slowly this time of day. He wouldn’t be able to get too far ahead. She might be able to catch him before he reached the interstate, be nearby when he stopped for gas.

  At least she had to try.

  She hit the unlock button on her key remote and squeezed by the edge of traffic to the driver’s door of her car. She slipped inside and jammed the key into the ignition. The car revved to life. She flicked on her blinker and eased into traffic.

  Craning her neck, she scanned through three lanes of dark-colored sedans, delivery trucks and compacts, searching for a glimpse of Nick’s truck. Once he left the state, it would be difficult to force him back to Denver. And she doubted he’d return voluntarily. Not after what happened this morning.

  But if she wanted to help nail whoever shot Jimmy, she needed Nick. She’d been busy keeping Jason safe. She hadn’t seen the men in the car. But Nick had. He was worried about keeping his son safe, but he was the one who needed protection.

  Of course, she hadn’t thought much about how she was going to provide it, since he obviously wasn’t interested. As the D.A.’s investigator, she had all the powers of a county detective, including the power to arrest. With one call to Seth Wallace, she could get a material witness warrant for Nick. But the thought of putting him and his son through an arrest didn’t feel right. If he forced her hand, she’d do it. For justice’s sake. For Jimmy. But she’d rather not go that far.

  Up ahead on the ramp leading onto I-25, she spotted a pickup that looked like Nick’s. She followed the traffic flow. Merging onto the interstate, she hit the gas. The drive-time traffic had prevented Nick from getting too far ahead, but she still had a lot of ground to make up. If he pulled off to stop for gas or take a smaller highway, she wanted to be close enough to know it.

  The miles ticked by. The number of cars dwindled. After they streamed past the outskirts of Denver, signs of city started to fade. The interstate took a wide bend, and she again spotted the pickup. She was closer now. Close enough to get a look at the Wyoming license plate with its picture of a cowboy on a bucking horse. The shadow of a booster seat peeked through the king cab’s back window.

  It was Nick Raymond, all right.

  He hadn’t stopped for gas since they’d left Denver. That truck was built for hauling, not for good mileage. He’d have to stop soon. At least he would provided he hadn’t filled his tank when he’d arrived in Denver this morning.

  The truck veered off the interstate and onto a highway heading for Laramie. Melissa followed. In Denver, she’d found comfort in knowing the roads and landscape better than Nick. Here the tables had turned. They were entering his home turf now, and the only navigational tool she had was the highway atlas she had tucked in under her front passenger’s seat.

  Funny, she’d always meant to get a GPS. Unfortunately the money always seemed to go for other things.

  She pressed the gas pedal. As long as she could stay within sight of the pickup, she was fine. Not much of a challenge anymore, considering that Nick’s truck, her car and a car behind her seemed to be the only vehicles on the highway.

  He had to see her. She couldn’t help wonder what he was thinking.

  She glanced in the rearview, sizing up the dark blue sedan behind her. A blue sedan. Like the one outside the hotel this morning, the one that had fired on them and killed Jimmy.

  A tremor lodged in the center of her chest. She glanced in the mirror again as long as she dared on the twisting mountain road. Evening had fallen on the drive and the darkness made it tough to see more than the outline of a driver and passenger and probably one other in the backseat. It couldn’t be the car from this morning. Could it? It had to be her overactive imagination.

  Her palms broke out in a sweat. She adjusted her grip on the wheel. Could they have noted the spot where Nick had parked his truck before walking to the hotel to pick up his son? Could they have waited all day, biding their time, hoping he’d return and give them a chance to remove the only witness to their drive-by?

  Seth Wallace had feared something like this might happen. He’d wanted to take Nick into custody for his protection. She’d talked him out of it, told him to let her whisk the rancher and his son off to a hotel, keep them safe. And now…

  She punched the button on the steering wheel, activating her phone. “No signal available,” the flat voice i
ntoned. She tried again. Same response. The mountains. They were already blocking cell phone signals. And they had a long way to go before they’d be in the clear.

  She scooped in a deep breath. She had to stay calm. There were a lot of dark-colored sedans in the world. And she wasn’t sure, but the car behind them looked like it had only two people inside, not four. This might not be the shooter. This whole situation might just be in her mind.

  She followed the winding highway, focusing on Nick’s pickup ahead. She tried the phone again and again with no luck. The only sound was the hiss of tires on pavement, and the rapid thump of her pulse. The area around them was growing more remote with every mile that rolled under her tires. Soon night had fallen, the sky dark except for a glow of twilight beyond shadows of mountains. Even though it wasn’t yet October, a dry powdery snow dusted the road.

  A crack split the air like snapping ice.

  Was that—

  She looked in the rearview mirror. Behind her, the passenger window of the sedan was lowered. A head poked outside, a youngish face, short dark hair whipped by the wind. He had something in a tattoo-marked hand, and although she couldn’t really see what it was, she didn’t have to. She knew.

  Another shot exploded.

  The back window of Nick’s truck shattered.

  Melissa gripped the wheel, shock shuddering through her. Oh, God. Oh, God. Jason.

  Ahead the pickup swerved, but stayed on the road.

  She couldn’t let them get off another round. She wouldn’t. She had to stop them, whatever it took.

  Taking a deep breath, she stomped on the brake. Her car skidded and started to spin.

  Chapter Four

  “You okay, Buddy? You okay, buddy?” Nick glanced into the backseat. He knew it was risky. The mountain highway twisted and wound like a snake. A missed turn and they could crash through the guardrail and find themselves plunging into the black ravine. But he had to know if his son was hurt. If Jason wasn’t okay, nothing mattered.

  A little hiccup rose from the backseat. A couple of breaths and it turned to a frightened little boy cry.

  Headlights behind veered to the side.

  Nick stole a glance in the rearview mirror. The little silver toy he’d guessed was Melissa’s car spun on the slick mountain road. A smack shuddered through the air, the sickening crunch of metal on metal.

  Oh, God.

  Cars bounced off one another. One skidded toward the guardrail.

  Nick brought his eyes back to the road in front of him. Lifting his foot from the gas, he slowed for the sharp turn ahead.

  Another crash shuddered from behind. Melissa? The other car? He pulled in a shallow breath, then another. Completing the turn, he piloted the truck up the switchback and looked down at the road below.

  One car rested on the narrow shoulder, its beams shining out into blackness. Next to it, the guardrail gaped, wood and steel ripped away and cast down the mountainside.

  The other car was nowhere to be seen.

  Nick turned away from the wreckage. He slowed the truck and guided off onto an overlook, mind racing through what had just happened. The gunfire. Melissa’s car skidding. The first crash and then one vehicle sailing through the rail.

  The car that was left looked like Melissa’s. Didn’t it? Silver in color. Smaller in size. It had to be hers. A shudder gripped him. Why had she spun out of control in the first place? He’d only heard two gunshots, one had shattered his back window, and the other? Could it have hit her? Could Melissa be shot?

  Safely stopping the car, he switched on the dome light and twisted in his seat to examine his son. Thumb planted in mouth, Jason was still sobbing, tears spilling from his big blue eyes and down plump cheeks in heartbreaking waves. But as far as Nick could tell, he hadn’t been hurt. Not physically. Pebbled glass littered the backseat, glistening in the light.

  “It’s okay, Buddy.” He unhooked the little guy’s belt and helped him into the front. Gathering him into his arms, he checked him over again, just to be sure. He found nothing. Except for more emotional trauma, which Jason certainly didn’t need, the little guy was unscathed. “It’s okay, Buddy. It’s all over. We’re safe.”

  Rubbing his hand on the little shoulder, Nick peered down off the overlook. The car’s beams still gleamed out into nothingness, its nose caught on the edge of the crumpled guardrail. But now a woman stood on the pavement outside the car.

  Melissa. Thank God.

  Checking her cell phone, she circled the back of the car, as if assessing whether she could drive away. Even from this distance, Nick could see she wasn’t going anywhere.

  Nick brought his focus back to the truck’s interior. Nick cleared as much pebbled glass from the back as he could and taped a sheet of plastic over the open stretch where the back window should be. After dumping tempered glass from the car seat, he strapped Jason back in. Settling back behind the wheel, he pulled out onto the road and headed down the switchback in the opposite direction.

  He could see the controlled look on Melissa’s face before he stopped the truck. The same look she’d had after the drive-by shooting this morning. He lowered the passenger window. “Get in.” He gestured to his truck with the flip of a hand.

  “No. I…I can’t.” She paused for a moment, then turned her back to him and peered down into the darkness.

  He got out of the truck. Circling to the passenger side, he followed her line of sight. Tiny pinpricks of light beamed deep in the ravine’s shadow. No one could have survived that kind of fall.

  “I need to stay until help arrives.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  She looked up at him. “You don’t understand. I hit the brakes…I did it on purpose…” She brought her hand to her forehead.

  He understood perfectly what had happened. She was the one who didn’t understand. “You can stay here all night, but you’ll never get cell phone reception on this stretch of highway.”

  She shook her head. “It’s my fault, I ki—”

  “You saved our lives.”

  She looked at him through mussed bangs, as if she hadn’t thought of it that way.

  “You did. Thank you. Now let us help you. Get in the truck.”

  She didn’t move. Instead, she glanced back at the car deep in the gully.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, making his voice softer. All he could think about was the fact that those men had shot out the back window. They’d come far too close to hurting Jason. He was just glad it was over and his little boy was safe. He didn’t give a rat’s ass what had happened to them as a result. But Melissa, she’d caused their crash. He could understand how she could be questioning herself now. “We’ll call when we get out of the mountains. I promise. Now, come on. Jason is scared. He needs a familiar face.”

  She met his eyes. He could almost see her emotions shuffle into place, like a bird smoothing its feathers. She gave a nod and strode to the car.

  She opened the back door of the king cab and climbed into the seat beside Jason. “I’m going to ride back here, if that’s all right,” she said.

  “Of course.” Nick slipped behind the wheel, started the truck and pulled back onto the highway. Miles rolled under the tires, twisting through the mountains, flattening briefly, then twisting again. Murmurs rose from the backseat, then settled into silence. He glanced into the rearview mirror to see Jason slumping to the side in his car seat. Melissa stared out the window into the darkness with shell-shocked eyes. But as vulnerable as her eyes made her appear, the rock-hard set to her chin seemed determined to meet whatever came next.

  Nick never thought of himself as the nurturing type, but at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to make everything okay for his son and the woman who had saved Jason’s life twice in one day. Whether she would let him was another story. But it was what she would do after she recovered that worried him most.

  Because there wasn’t a chance in hell he and Jason were returning to Denver, and he had a feeling she hadn’t fo
llowed him just for sport.

  MELISSA DIDN’T KNOW WHEN she’d fallen asleep or how long she’d been out, but when she awoke, total darkness still surrounded the truck and there wasn’t a prick of light to be seen save for the stars overhead.

  So this was what the middle of nowhere looked like at night.

  She eyed Nick. From the backseat, she could see nothing but the silhouette of his hat against the dash’s green glow. Even the rearview mirror didn’t give her more than a glimpse of hat brim and a touch of wavy dark hair.

  She turned her attention to his son sleeping in the car seat next to her. Jason’s thumb was jammed in his open mouth, his free hand twined in the waves on the crown of his head, the only hair long enough for him to get a good hold.

  The events of the day hit her with a rush that stole the oxygen from the truck’s cab. Jimmy dead. Essie on life support. Jason and his father almost killed on the highway. The car at the bottom of the ravine.

  She knew what Nick had said was correct—she’d saved his and Jason’s lives. That’s what she’d set out to do. But she’d also caused the deaths of whomever was in that car, and that fact vibrated deep in her chest like the echoes of an explosion.

  The truck slowed. Nick turned off the highway and onto a side road. Gravel crackled under the tires. Logs of lodgepole pine framed each side of the gravel drive and stretched over the top. A metal sign hung from the top span, a cutout of a J inside a circle, like a cattle brand. Barbed wire gleamed in the headlight beams, stretching out on either side of the gateway. They drove under the sign, tires bumping over a cattle guard in the road.

  “You awake?” Nick’s voice rumbled through the cab.

  How long had he been watching her?

  She fought the urge to shrink back against the seat and wrap her arms over her chest. Or worse, start shaking and babbling like she had at the ravine. Straightening her back, she smoothed her lips into an expression more than one man had described as unreadable. None had meant it as a compliment, but she took it that way all the same. “What time is it?”