Cowboy Under Fire

by Carla Cassidy

  “But I’m a man and I have a gun.” His brown eyes held her gaze steadily.

  “Where did you get a gun?” she asked in shocked surprise.

  Devon’s cheeks flushed with unusual color and he reached up to straighten his glasses across the bridge of his nose. “It was given to me by one of the Humes men. I’d prefer you not mention it to anyone else. I’m sure it’s illegal for me to have it, but I promised to give it back to him once our work here is done. I just wanted to make sure I was fully protected. I don’t have a cowboy body-guarding for me.”

  “Where’s the gun now?” she asked, still vaguely shocked that he’d gone out of his way to gain possession of a weapon. Did he even know how to use a gun?

  “It’s in the trailer.”

  “I’m assuming you know all about how to use it and normal gun safety.” He nodded and she continued, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she said.

  After all, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to protect himself if danger came his way, too. “We still don’t know who was responsible for the attack on me. It’s possible the person who killed these people is long gone from around here. Just be careful who you trust, Devon. I haven’t heard any nice things about the men who work on the Humes ranch and my one encounter with a couple of them certainly didn’t warm my heart.”

  “Don’t worry, I can take care of myself. Like you, I’m just eager to get this job done and get on to the next one.”

  “Then I guess it’s time we get to work for real.” She got up from the computer, and together she and Devon moved to the burial pit.

  Only three more sets of bones to make into fully formed skeletons and then their work here would be finished. With three sets of bones already removed from the pit the others should go faster. She figured it would probably take no more than a day or two for each and then a final day to work up the last of her reports and turn everything over to Dillon.

  Six or so days and then they would be pulling up stakes and moving on. Thankfully, they were almost at the end of the work instead of at the beginning. It was time for her to put the Holiday Ranch and specifically Forest behind her.

  She had a feeling that if she spent too much time with him he’d manage to make her believe in all kinds of things that had nothing to do with facts.

  He’d have her believing in lovers’ sunsets and pot roast Sundays and love that lasted a lifetime. She didn’t like it. His beliefs were in direct contrast to everything she had learned, everything she had experienced and been taught in her life so far.

  She needed to get back to her apartment in Oklahoma City. She needed to be the angry shrew that kept people and any other scary emotions away.

  She’d allowed herself to be vulnerable once and it had ended in disaster. Her father was right—emotions like anger and coldness kept people at bay, any other emotions were useless and made a person weak and vulnerable.

  She shook her head to clear it from all thoughts other than those she needed to get the bones from the pit to the table. It should be a relatively easy day with just the three set of bones left.

  Devon plucked the first skull from the pit. “Looks like all the others,” he observed as he handed it to her.

  She took it from him and noted the familiar injury in the back. Whoever had killed these young men had been consistent in the means of death. It took a lot of strength and a very sharp instrument to kill somebody in this manner.

  “I heard that Dillon is interviewing all the cowboys both here and on the Humes ranch,” Devon said. “He’s definitely interested in the men here, especially since at the time Cass hired them on they were street kids who may or may not have used their real names, which makes it difficult for Dillon to check their backgrounds.”

  “They were all minors when they started working here. That fact in and of itself would make it difficult for him to get any real information about their pasts. But from what I understand, all the men here are using their real names, and he’s already checked as much of their backgrounds as he can.”

  She leaned her hip against the fresh, empty table. “I’ve eaten in the cowboy dining room for the last two nights and have gotten to know the men a little better. It’s hard for me to believe one of them is or ever was a killer.”

  “It was hard for people to believe Ted Bundy was a killer,” Devon replied. “There are plenty of people who are always surprised to find out that their neighbor, their brother or their coworker is really a cold-blooded killer.”

  Patience didn’t bother replying. He was right and there was nothing more to say about it. She weighed the skull, took photos and then made notes and then they were onto the next bone. The morning passed quickly and it was just after noon when she told Devon to take a break for lunch.

  He left the tent and she sat in the chair next to the cooler and pulled out a soda. She wasn’t going to step outside despite the stifling heat in the tent.

  She refused to stand in the entrance and watch Forest at work. Yet at the same time she found herself rising from her chair and moving to the tent door. Her feet had definitely refused to listen to her brain.

  There he was, in the corral with the horse. Dressed in his usual jeans and another white T-shirt, he looked strong and handsome with his black cowboy hat riding his head at a cocky angle. The horse was eating something out of his hand, and at the same time Forest used the other hand to stroke down the length of the animal’s nose.

  Apparently he’d managed to build trust with the horse. If she allowed it, would he be able to build a real trust with her? She didn’t believe it was possible.

  He definitely stirred her on a physical level. Her hormones were attracted to his. She couldn’t deny the fact that she wanted him more than a little bit. The kiss they’d shared had only confirmed that her body wanted his.

  Still, her world was science and his was not. He was a lonely man trying to replicate the family he had lost. If he thought she was somebody special to him, she had a feeling it was only because of her close proximity and the ease at which they had formed a relationship of sorts.

  Before he could see her standing there watching him, she backed away and returned to her chair. She’d been seated there about thirty minutes when he appeared in the doorway, a small paper bag in hand.

  “Is that lunch?” He gestured to the soda can she held in her hand.

  “Along with my secret stash of cheese puffs in the cooler,” she admitted.

  “I figured the minute I turned my back on you that you’d return to your unhealthy ways.” He held the bag out to her. “A ham-and-cheese sandwich that will go great with those cheese puffs of yours. I had Dusty get one for each of us from Cookie.”

  She stood and walked over to him and took the bag. “Thanks, but you don’t have to take care of me every minute of every day,” she said.

  “I’ve never met anyone who needs taking care of more than you,” he replied.

  “Do you realize I’m a feminist?” She raised her chin.

  He grinned, that charming slide of lips weakening her knees just a little bit. “Democrat, Republican, vegetarian or feminist, that doesn’t mean I want to stop doing things for you. Besides, it’s just a sandwich, Patience.”

  She’d been working up a head of steam, the self-protective anger that had served her so well in the past. But she couldn’t get there, not with a sandwich in her hand and him looking so hot and sexy clad in his tight jeans and the T-shirt that stretched across his impossibly wide shoulders.

  How could she be angry with a man whose eyes twinkled in merriment and sexy lips smiled at her with such natural charisma. “Thank you,” she finally said. “You can go now,” she couldn’t help but add.

  He tipped his hat and stepped back. “Yes, ma’am. Enjoy your sandwich and I’ll be back to get you around five for dinner.”

  “I p
lanned on working late,” she protested.

  “It’s safer if you stop working early, eat in the cowboy dining room and are back in your room by dark. This isn’t about your work, Patience. This is about how best I can keep you safe from any further harm.”

  She wanted to protest, but she was also aware of the sacrifices he was making for her. He was giving up his own routine and giving up time with his coworkers, with his friends, on her behalf. He had already done so much for her, more than she’d ever expected from anyone.

  “All right, then I’ll see you here at five,” she finally agreed.

  “And now I can go.” He gave her one last teasing smile and then left to head back to the corral.

  She returned to her chair and pulled the sandwich from the bag. She was being spoiled by sandwiches delivered to her, by dinners with warm men and lots of laughter. She was being spoiled by Forest with his smiles and his thoughts about not just her safety but also her comfort.

  Don’t get used to it, a little voice whispered. This was all some sort of a surreal fantasy that had nothing to do with her real life.

  She’d just finished eating when Devon returned to the tent to resume work.

  The afternoon passed in relative silence. Neither she nor Devon was given to small talk. They only spoke bone language with each other.

  What should have been a relatively easy job of piecing together the last three skeletons had become a confusing puzzle. They had three skulls left, but eight femur bones, indicating that the pit held at least the partial remains of four instead of three victims.

  “Maybe the fourth skull is still buried in the pit?” Devon suggested after the surprising find.

  “Maybe,” she replied thoughtfully, although she didn’t really believe it. The ground around the bones had been carefully excavated by her and Devon in the first couple of weeks when they had arrived at the ranch initially. Although the six skulls had immediately been evident, they had worked in grids to reveal any bones that might have been partially or fully buried by the shifting of dirt over time.

  “I need to call Dillon.” She glanced at her watch. It was almost four. She had a feeling she was going to be late for dinner.

  It was almost five when Dillon finally arrived. He appeared in the tent entrance and paused, as if waiting for permission to enter all the way inside.

  “Don’t tell me more bones have disappeared again,” he said.

  “Okay, I won’t,” Patience replied. “You might as well come in and sit down.” She gestured toward the folding chair next to where she sat. She’d already dismissed Devon to enjoy the cool comfort of the trailer.

  “If you’re inviting me to sit, then you must have bad news.” He sank down in the chair next to her.

  “You look exhausted,” she observed. His eyes were slightly red, as if a good night’s sleep was only a distant memory and the lines across his forehead cut deeper than usual.

  “I’ve spent most of the day at the Humes ranch interviewing every person who worked there during the time of the crime. Although some of the men weren’t working there during that time frame, they are mostly locals who lived in the area.”

  “Anything interesting come up?”

  He frowned. “Nothing worth talking about. I think the answer to the identities of these victims lies with Francine Rogers, and she isn’t due back from her cruise for another week. So, what bad news do you have for me?”

  “We thought there were only three bodies left in the pit, but there are four, or at least part of four. We’re missing a skull and I’m not sure what else at this point.”

  Dillon rubbed a hand across his forehead. “Are you sure?”

  She bristled, but fought against her irritation at his question. “I’m positive. We have too many bones for only three bodies.”

  Dillon shook his head. “This case just gets more bizarre by the moment. Why would a skull be missing? This pit was buried beneath a shed, so I know there wasn’t any animal tampering with the bones.”

  “And the dirt around the burial site was removed enough so that I don’t believe it’s buried and we just haven’t found it yet,” she added.

  “So, potentially it could have been taken as a souvenir by the killer.” Dillon rubbed a hand across his forehead as if in an attempt to ease a headache.

  Patience nodded. “It would have been one of the first, if not the very first kill.”

  A shadow fell over the entrance as Forest appeared. “Problems?” he asked.

  “You don’t happen to have a skull hiding in your closet, do you?” Dillon asked ruefully.

  “No skulls, not even a skeleton in my closet or anywhere else,” Forest replied.

  “We’re missing a skull,” Patience explained.

  Forest frowned. “Was it stolen?” he asked.

  “No way,” Dillon replied firmly. “Since the incident with the bones being moved, I’ve had only my best men on duty here during the night. There’s no way anyone got in here to steal a skull.” He turned and looked at Patience. “So what does this do to you finishing up with the rest of the skeletons?”

  “I won’t really know until we continue on,” she replied. “At this point I don’t have a good feel for what’s left in the pit. We’ve worked today on reconstructing victim four, but we know there are extra bones to indicate a victim we didn’t know about before now.”

  Dillon rose. “You’ll keep me informed on how the rest of the work progresses? We seem to be asking to keep each other informed on issues a lot lately.”

  “We do, but I’ll definitely be in touch with any more news,” she replied and also stood. She looked over at the gurney where she and Devon had been working before they’d discovered the additional femur bones. The other gurneys with the complete skeletons had been transported to Bitterroot’s morgue where they were in cold storage until needed for further study.

  They would be taken to the Oklahoma Crime Lab where an attempt to extract DNA and other more complicated testing would be done. Eventually they would be used as evidence in a criminal trial if anyone was charged with the murders.

  “No more work for today,” Forest said firmly. He obviously knew her well enough to know that she was reluctant to leave things so unsettled.

  “No more work for me today, either,” Dillon said wearily as the three of them left the tent. “I feel like I haven’t had a good night sleep in over a month.”

  Dillon headed for his car and Forest fell into step with Patience as she walked toward her room to clean up for dinner.

  “I guess this all just complicates things for you,” he said.

  “Yes, it does,” she replied, her frustration obvious in the tiredness of her voice.

  “I’m sure if given enough time you’ll figure it all out,” he said reassuringly.

  She nodded. He had no idea how those extra bones only confused things. What he also didn’t understand was that this new kink meant more time here and she knew that more time at the ranch, more time with Forest was dangerous on an emotional level for her.

  She wanted to finish her work, but she was also emotionally afraid and far too vulnerable to the man who had appointed himself as her bodyguard.

  * * *

  Cassie was seated at the kitchen table eating dinner alone when Dillon appeared on the back porch. She opened the door and greeted him. “I saw your car parked down by the tent. Are there more problems?” She gestured him to the chair across from her at the kitchen table.

  “This whole case is a problem,” he admitted.

  “Cup of coffee?” she offered.

  “I see you’re in the middle of dinner. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “Nonsense, it’s just a frozen dinner.” She carried it to the counter and then poured them each a cup of coffee and returned to the table.

 
Dillon told her the latest news and as he talked, she tried not to notice the soft gray of his eyes, the way his dark hair was mussed in sexy disarray.

  When he wasn’t around she rarely thought about him, but whenever he was near she couldn’t help the visceral attraction she felt for him, an attraction he obviously didn’t feel for her.

  In the months they’d been interacting, he’d been nothing but professional. She told herself that was a good thing: she definitely didn’t want a relationship with the hot chief of police since she had no plans to make this place and Bitterroot her permanent home.

  She was stuck here for the moment by the crime that had occurred on the property, but once that was all cleaned up, she was selling the place and returning to New York City where she belonged.

  She was not going to be a Nicolette. She frowned as she thought of her best friend, the woman who had traveled with her young son and Cassie from New York City to the ranch when Cassie’s aunt had been killed by the storm.

  Nicolette had fallen hard and fast in love with Lucas Taylor, one of the cowboys working here, and before Cassie knew it, she and Lucas and Nicolette’s six-year-old son, Sammy, had moved into their own house on a small ranch not far from the Holiday place.

  In fact the two were getting married in a week and a half. When it was time, Cassie would be returning to New York City without her best friend and business partner.

  Nicolette had traded her dreams of being a famous fashion designer for love. Cassie wasn’t about to sacrifice her dreams of being a successful artist for anyone or anything. Never again, she told herself.

  Heat leapt into her cheeks as she realized Dillon was staring at her expectantly and she had no idea what he’d just said or how to respond.

  “I’m sorry?” she said.

  “I asked if you and Adam had managed to dig up any employment records from around the time of the murders?”