The Fugitive Bride

by Margaret Watson

  “I have no intention of hiring someone just because he’s easy to look at,” Shea snapped. “In fact, that alone would make me not want to hire him. Kyle Diggett acted like he knew what he was doing, too.”

  Becca turned to look at her. “Not everyone who’s looking for a job is going to be another Kyle, Shea. Do you really think this guy is like that?”

  “No.” Shea forced herself to be honest. “His references all raved about him. I don’t think he’d steal from me. But there’s something about him, about his eyes. He looks hard.”

  Becca grinned. “The hard ones are the most fun to tame. Trust me on that.”

  Shea’s mouth twitched, but she shook her head. “I’m not interested in taming anyone, especially a man who’s working for me.” She turned away from Becca’s suddenly sympathetic eyes. “I just don’t think he’d work out for us, that’s all.”

  “Why don’t you give him a chance?” Becca said quietly. “He could be just what you need. You made a mistake with Kyle, but that doesn’t mean you’d do the same with this guy. We don’t get too many men wandering through Cameron, looking for work. And Joe, Dusty and Levi aren’t getting any younger. They could use some help.”

  “I know that.” Her voice was low as she watched Levi walk slowly out of the barn in the distance. “They’ve worked on the Red Rock since I was a baby. I know they need a younger man in here to help them, but they would never admit it. The three of them are more stubborn than a matched set of Missouri mules.”

  “Then present them with a done deal.” Becca spoke briskly as she walked toward the steer and the waiting Jesse. “Hire this guy, at least on a temporary basis, and make everyone’s life a little easier.” She slanted Shea a look. “Including your own.”

  “My life is exactly how I want it.”

  “Sure, Shea, everyone loves working twenty-hour days and having no social life.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me another one, why don’t you?”

  Shea laughed. “I thought Grady would have fixed that smart mouth of yours by now.”

  Becca grinned. “Grady is very fond of my smart mouth.”

  “I noticed,” she answered, her voice dry.

  Shea hung back and watched as Jesse helped Becca settle herself on the stool, then handed her what she needed to suture up the steer. He seemed to anticipate every move the veterinarian made, handing her the proper instruments and efficiently cleaning everything up after she had finished suturing the laceration. He listened as she gave him instructions for the steer’s care, then carried the stool and bag of instruments back to her car.

  “He’s a gem, Shea,” Becca said when he was out of earshot. “Grab him. You’d be a fool to let him get away.”

  “I can’t, Becca.” Shea kept her voice low as she watched for Jesse to emerge from behind the truck. “I don’t think he’d take well to having a woman as his boss.”

  It was a lame excuse, but it was the only one she could think of quickly. Everything that Becca said was true. Jesse Coulton appeared to be the perfect employee.

  Which was exactly why she couldn’t hire him.

  It would be too dangerous to have someone as smart and perceptive as Jesse around the Red Rock Ranch. But she couldn’t tell Becca that, either.

  Becca shook her head. “You’re nuts, Shea,” she said as she walked to her truck. “I’ll be back in a few days to check on that steer, although he should be fine. Keep him close by, just in case.”

  “Thanks, Becca. I will.”

  Shea watched as Becca drove away, then turned reluctantly to face Jesse again. “Thanks for helping Becca out. She said you did a good job.”

  He nodded once. “I like working with animals,” he said, and Shea saw the sincerity in his eyes. “You generally know what to expect with a steer or a horse.” He looked down as Buster raced up next to him, then squatted in the dust in front of him, his rear end wriggling. Jesse smiled, and his eyes gentled as he reached down to pet the dog. “You generally know what to expect from a dog, too.”

  No, Shea thought as she watched him with Buster, Jesse didn’t strike her as a thief. She wasn’t afraid that Jesse would steal from her or from Joe, Dusty and Levi the way Kyle Diggett had done. But if she hired him, she’d have a whole lot more to worry about than money missing from her house.

  If she hired Jesse, she would put her carefully constructed arrangement in jeopardy. She’d worry constantly about the safety of the refugees hiding in the cabin up by the lake. And the one thing she wouldn’t do was endanger those children.

  Jesse gave the yellow dog one final pat, then straightened up. Shea’s eyes narrowed as she watched him, speculation darkening their bright blue depths. What was she thinking? he wondered.

  He wasn’t sure, and he reluctantly conceded the first round to her. He would win in the end, he was sure of that, but she had surprised him. He had expected to easily goad her into hiring him. Word at May’s, the bar that stood at the edge of Cameron, was that Shea McAllister had a hair-trigger temper and could be pushed into acting rashly if you handled her the right way.

  But all the handling so far had been on her part, he ruefully acknowledged. And not only had he been unable to secure a job on the Red Rock Ranch, but he’d managed to alienate her at the same time.

  It was time for different tactics. “Thanks for your time, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his hat. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  Her eyes narrowed even more. “It’s too late to try the polite, subservient routine with me, Coulton. You’re good, but I’ve seen too many of your type. Slick cowboys are a dime a dozen in Utah. So stuff it back in your hat You’re not doing your cause any favors.”

  Damn, but he was going to enjoy taking her down. It wasn’t often that he found an adversary who could match wits with him. “Sorry, Ms. McAllister. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  He saw her lips twitch and knew she wanted to hide the smile. “Really? That’s funny, I had just the opposite impression.”

  “Now why would I want to offend you when I want you to hire me?”

  “That’s just what I was wondering.” She swiped her arm over her forehead and left behind a smear of red dust. “What’s going on, Coulton?”

  He was getting sloppy, he thought with disgust. Or maybe he was getting arrogant, which was worse. He’d never had this kind of problem before No matter what the situation, he always fit right in. He’d never had any trouble getting hired. Shea McAllister was the first suspect who had challenged him.

  She was also the first suspect who’d stirred such an immediate, intense physical reaction.

  He’d noticed her the moment he’d pulled up in the yard. She was ridiculously slender to be wrestling with a steer that size. But when he’d looked closer, he’d noticed the curves that were only partially hidden by denim and flannel. And although her face wouldn’t be considered classically beautiful, the animation and passion that filled her eyes made it certain he wouldn’t soon forget her.

  He shrugged, trying to ignore his body’s reaction to her. “I’m desperate, I guess. I need a job. I’m down to my last fifty bucks. And you were the only place around that sounded promising.” It didn’t bother him to beg. He’d try anything that worked. He’d gone to a lot of trouble to set up his background and get hired by Shea McAllister.

  She didn’t change her posture, but deep in her eyes he saw a slight softening. “If I don’t hire you, there are other places around Cameron you can try. I’ll give you the names,”

  It would be more difficult, but if he couldn’t wrest a job from Shea, he’d settle for another ranch close by. And he would still take her down.

  “I appreciate that.”

  She shrugged and turned away. “No problem. I’d expect my neighbors to do the same.”

  Before he could answer, an older cowboy came walking slowly out of the barn. When he saw them, he changed directions and headed toward them.

  “Hey, Shea.” The old cowboy stopped in front of her and pu
shed his hat to the back of his head. “I have a stall ready for that steer. Thought you might want to keep him close by for a few days.” He nodded at the steer, who still stood in the chute in the corral.

  “Thanks, Dusty. I’ll help you move him in a minute.” Her eyes softened as she spoke to the old man, and she touched his shoulder. “Why don’t you get some lunch in the meantime? Maria should have it just about ready.”

  Dusty hesitated, then nodded. “Maybe I will. Don’t you move that steer until I help you, hear?”

  “I won’t,” she assured the old man.

  She waited until the cowboy had walked toward the house, then turned back to Jesse. “Thanks again, Coulton. I’ve got a lot of work to do. I’ll be in touch.”

  Her eyes had lost their hard edge, and when she glanced at the old cowboy, he saw real affection. He’d call it love, if he believed in the emotion. And suddenly he realized why she’d been wrestling with the steer herself when he arrived. She was trying to take some of the burden from the old men she had working for her.

  “Do you have anyone working for you besides Dusty and the other old cowboy I saw when I got here?”

  The softness disappeared from her eyes and her chin lifted. “I have three hands to help me.”

  “Let me guess. The third one is just as old as the other two.”

  Her chin lifted even higher. “I prefer to think of it as experience. Not age.”

  Jesse shook his head, watching Dusty as he reached the house. He gripped the rail tightly as he walked up the stairs. There was no way he could help Shea move that steer. “You’re doing most of the work around here yourself.” He hoped his voice didn’t reflect his shock.

  “Joe, Dusty and Levi do a lot.” Her voice was cool as she faced him. “My mother is here in the summer, and my brother is available to help whenever I need him. Believe me, Coulton, I’m not desperate enough to hire just anyone.”

  “This isn’t about a job,” he said, more roughly than he’d intended. “My God, how do you manage?”

  “I manage just fine. I’ve never been afraid of hard work. I love this ranch, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it running.” Her voice quivered with passion.

  Including taking money for smuggling illegal immigrants into the country, men who were wanted criminals in their own country? he thought grimly, and he felt his face harden. He’d needed the reminder. For a moment there, he’d begun to admire Shea McAllister.

  Of course she’d have old men working for her. They were probably so grateful to have a job that they looked the other way at her illegal activities. And if she had to work hard herself, she was being well paid for it. With all the money she was collecting for the smuggled criminals, she had to be socking away a small fortune. In a few years she could disappear and never have to work again.

  Another old man came walking across the yard, giving Shea a casual wave, and then he, too, disappeared into the house. Shea turned back to Jesse and held out her hand. He only hesitated for a moment before he took it.

  He didn’t want to feel that connection again, that shock of awareness that had jolted him the first time he’d shaken her hand. He’d been too conscious of Shea McAllister from the moment he’d gotten out of his truck and seen her wrestling with the steer. And talking to her, mentally jousting with her, had only made it worse.

  He should see only a felon standing in front of him, a person who was breaking the law. Instead, he saw an attractive woman, one who was clearly unaware of her own beauty. The light that filled her eyes when she spoke animated a striking face. And the passion that made her body quiver only emphasized her slender, graceful strength.

  But he shook her hand again, unable to find a reason not to. And the jolt of awareness was worse, this time. It skittered over the edge into attraction.

  “Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Coulton,” she said firmly. “I’ll let you know about the job in a day or two.”

  He stood and watched as she hurried toward the house, unable to look away from the sway of her hips under the denim. It didn’t matter, he told himself.

  He didn’t care if she was Miss America. Shea McAllister was breaking the law, and she would pay. He’d come to Cameron to stop her, and by God, he was going to do just that.

  No matter how good she looked in a pair of jeans.

  Chapter 2

  Jesse heard the stairs creak and was instantly awake. It took only a moment for him to remember that he was in Melba Corboy’s boardinghouse, and relax back into the bed. He didn’t have to worry about creaking stairs, at least not yet. As far as anyone knew, he was just a drifter cowboy, looking for a job.

  The footsteps stopped at his door. “Mr. Coulton?”

  It was his landlady’s voice. He scrambled out of bed and dragged his jeans on. “Yes?”

  “There’s a telephone call for you.” She paused. “I think it’s urgent.”

  What could have happened? He’d given his boss the phone number, with the instructions to use it only in a dire emergency. “I’ll be right there.”

  Throwing on a shirt, he wrenched open the door and ran down the stairs, still working on the buttons on his shirt. He grabbed the receiver off the small table that held the phone. “Hello?”

  “Mr. Coulton?”

  He recognized Shea McAllister’s low, husky voice immediately. It was only because she was the reason he was in Cameron, he told himself. “Yes?”

  “This is Shea McAllister. Are you still interested in a job at the Red Rock Ranch?” She tried to sound cool and businesslike, but underneath her voice he could hear the panic, tightly controlled.

  “Yes,” he said, cautious. “Are you offering me one?”

  “Yes. When can you start?”

  “How about right away?”

  “That would be fine.” He heard her let out her breath, a small sigh of relief. “Bring your pack with you. We have a bunkhouse you can use.”

  “I’ll be there later this morning.”

  “I’ll be looking for you.”

  She set the receiver down with a small click, and Jesse stood staring at the phone for a long moment. What had happened to make her change her mind? Because when he’d left the ranch yesterday morning, he’d been sure that she had no intention of hiring him.

  He didn’t care. Replacing the phone in its cradle, he ran back up the stairs. It only took a few minutes to replace all his belongings in the duffel bag he was using. It took a few more to settle his bill with Mrs. Corboy and throw the bag into his truck. Within a half hour he was driving out of Cameron toward the Red Rock Ranch.

  Whatever the reason Shea had changed her mind, he’d been given his opportunity, and he’d make the most of it. He’d find the evidence that Shea was smuggling criminals into the United States, and he’d stop her. Then he’d move on to his next assignment.

  It was the way he’d worked for years, and it was the way he wanted it to be. He wasn’t interested in entanglements. He had no use for them in his profession, and he had no wish for them in his personal life. He traveled alone and quickly, and he did a good job. All the certificates of commendation he’d received from the FBI over the years said so.

  An image of Shea McAllister floated into his mind, but instead of pushing it away, he let it linger there. He was attracted to her. He was willing to admit that, even if only to himself. But she was a suspect, so that was as far as the attraction would go. They’d had good information about her illegal activities, information from what seemed to be an unimpeachable source. And her actions the day before had only confirmed his suspicions.

  She needed help desperately. He’d been in town for a few days, talked to a lot of people. It wasn’t difficult to steer the conversation around to the largest ranch in the area. And the opinions were unanimous. The McAllisters needed help, big time.

  So if she hadn’t had something to hide, Shea should have jumped at the chance to hire another hand. Especially one as highly recommended as he had been. His mouth curled up slightly as he negot
iated a long curve. He should know. He’d written the recommendations himself.

  The Bureau would back him up, if and when she made the phone calls to check on his references. But he suspected that she had no intention of calling.

  He pictured Shea again, her long, curly blond hair pulled back in a sloppy ponytail, her hands braced on her slender hips, her eyes flashing blue sparks at him. She was an attractive woman, and he’d enjoyed dueling with her. His hormones had certainly jumped to attention and noticed her. But as far as he was concerned, she was a suspect. Period.

  If some small part of his brain was still thinking about Shea as a potential playmate, he could ignore it. It was his ability to focus on his job and shut out distractions that had set him apart from the rest of the agents at the FBI. And it was his ability to get the job done, alone, that had earned him the name of the Renegade.

  His mouth tightened as he turned onto the driveway of the Red Rock Ranch. Shea McAllister would learn, soon enough, that no one was above the law. He was here to prove it to her.

  The yard was empty and quiet as he brought his truck to a stop. There was no sign of Shea or any of the old cowboys he’d seen the day before. He waited for the dust to subside, then he stepped out of the truck.

  The silence struck him as he slammed the door of the truck. There should be more noise on a working ranch, more activity. Unless Shea and all the cowboys were out in some distant pasture.

  Shea walked out of the barn, shielding her eyes from the bright sunlight. Ignoring the small leap in his chest at the sight of her, Jesse headed toward her.

  She stopped when she saw him and waited for him to reach her. “Thanks for coming out so quickly.” she said, and her low voice sounded strained.

  “No problem.” He should shake her hand, he told himself. He’d shake the hand of any other potential employer. Reluctantly, he extended his hand, and when she took it, he felt that jolt of recognition again, that tremor of rightness. He pulled his hand back as quickly as he could. He noticed that Shea tucked her own hand behind her back just as quickly.