Cowboy at Midnight

by Ann Major

  Then she was in their boat, her white-knuckled hands clutching their fiberglass boat railing. Other boats joined them, and she heard other voices yelling into the darkness while she strained to find Lexie in those black waters.

  They’d motored on Lake Mondo all night long that first night and then all the next day and into the night.

  When Lexie’s body had washed to shore three weeks later, Lexie’s father had come by Amy’s parents’ house and demanded to talk to the girl who’d killed his daughter. Her mother had barred the door with her own body like a protective mother bear, refusing to let him in.

  “But I want to see him,” Amy had said, stepping past her mother’s thin, black-clad figure onto the porch.

  Robert Vale had looked haggard and old. His cheekbones had stuck out through his gray, translucent skin. His eyes had been dead and soulless, like glass marbles in a skull’s eye sockets. His hair had turned white and blew about his colorless face like tufts of straw. His hands had shaken so badly he’d plunged them into his pockets.

  “This is all your fault,” he’d said, his tone so low and thready and yet deadly, she’d had to lean closer to hear him.

  “You were driving the boat,” he’d accused.

  “We hit a log.”

  “You were going too fast or she wouldn’t have been thrown out of the boat. You were wearing the only life vest. Why was that?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t deserve to live. Remember that! Not if my daughter’s dead!”

  His words had hammered into her the truth she’d lived with for eight years. They had deadened her heart and made her numb. Yet here she was—alive still. Achingly, painfully alive.

  The warm June wind blowing across her face brought Amy back to the bittersweet present. As she pushed more lead out of her pencil, she couldn’t resist lifting her face to the gentle breezes that rustled the grasses and made the yellow legal pages flutter.

  She set her tablet on the ground. The sweet smells of grass and hay and other woodsy scents were irresistible. She wrinkled her nose, inhaling yesterday, inhaling all the yesterdays of her childhood before she and Lexie had hit their troubled adolescence and rebelled.

  When Amy had been a kid, early summer used to be her favorite time of the year. She’d made dates with Lexie to play and to ride. Summers had meant she’d been free to spend more time at Lexie’s ranch. Her father had driven her out to the Vale ranch, which had seemed like paradise.

  Funny, how standing here on Steve’s ranch made the present blend with the past, made the poignant losses not hurt quite so much as she remembered how once the start of summer had promised endless possibilities.

  Thoughts of Steve made her heart beat faster. Sometimes when he looked at her, she felt reassured instead of afraid of who she was or wasn’t. He wanted to help her, to save her even. For the first time in a long time, she found herself longing for those endless possibilities that had been lost to her for so long. For the first time she wondered if happiness was possible for someone like her. She’d loved being with him.

  Spending time with him again seemed as precious a goal as spending time riding and playing with Lexie had once been.

  She wanted her life back. She wanted paradise again. She wanted to love and to be loved and to make those who loved her proud of her.

  Love had been such an easy thing when she’d been a child. All she’d had to do was smile or put on a pretty new dress to make her father laugh and clap. Even when she was bad he’d laughed.

  Oh, God, how she’d loved her parents.

  The one thing she’d never wanted to do was hurt them.

  The Vales had sued her parents because of the boating accident. Many of her parents’ best friends had dropped them after the unflattering newspaper articles about her. Her mother, who wanted prestige more than anything, had been so devastated she’d been hospitalized for depression. For long months she’d been too lethargic to work. Her law practice had suffered.

  Amy never again wanted to hurt them or anybody else she loved.

  And that meant she had to keep saying no to Steve. Because she could love him.

  Don’t think about Steve.

  Just be.

  That’s good enough for now.

  A dirt lane led toward the brush that edged the clearing near the bulldozer. The lane continued through the brush, she supposed.

  Where exactly did it go?

  Setting her briefcase on the ground, she pulled the pins and rubber band out of her hair, so that it could blow freely in the warm, summer wind. Then she headed down the little trail toward the tangle of juniper, mesquite and persimmons that wound through the brush.

  Like a curious child, she followed the path until she came to a grassy clearing beneath the trees and saw a pool in this heart of darkness, its brown surface as smooth and gleaming as polished glass. Beside the pool was a concrete bench. She went to it and, placing her hands on her upper thighs, she sat down slowly.

  When she bent over, she saw her reflection in the pool’s luminous depths. With the dark trees all around and her bright hair cascading in ripples of gold on either side of her slim face, she looked like wood nymph, like a girl without a care in the world. The water washed all her sins away.

  Clasping her hands in her lap, she shut her eyes and breathed in the sweetness of the air.

  Usually she hated to be still for a moment for fear the demons would attack. But this was different somehow.

  No longer aware of herself so much, she listened to the birds and the rustlings of the leaves and the little scratching sounds squirrels made as they scuttled across the ground.

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, but it was darker and cooler when she opened her eyes again. A silver fish jumped, casting sparkling rivulets into the water. She felt a strange peace. The light and shadow shimmering above her and upon the pool’s surface seemed magical.

  She loved it out here.

  She hadn’t loved any place so much in years.

  She understood why Steve had fought so hard to build this place, just as she knew she would want to come here again and again.

  Not that she could.

  Behind her she heard the sharp crackle of leaves. A large animal, she thought, following the same trail she had. A thirsty cow maybe.

  Slightly nervous, she twisted around and waited for whatever or whoever it was. Within seconds she found herself gazing through veils of shadows and sparkling light at a black mare and a tall, dark, broad-shouldered man following behind her. Noche walked with a noticeable limp.

  Amy got up slowly and went to them.

  Steve smiled at her but did not speak, at least not in words. Again, for a timeless moment, she felt that uncanny connection to this man she hardly knew. Then Noche came up and nuzzled her hand with her warm nose.

  “Are you okay?” Steve murmured.

  “I wish I had a carrot to give her,” Amy said.

  “Tomorrow. We’ll bring a whole bag of carrots with us.”

  He sounded so sure they had tomorrow.

  “I love it here,” she said.

  “You belong here.”

  She looked up at him. “For the first time in a long time I feel what I’m really feeling. I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s so strange.”

  “You’re supposed to feel what you feel, rather than pretend or ignore your feelings. That’s the only way Noche knows how to be.”

  “She’s a horse.”

  “Which means she’s a lot smarter than most people.”

  “True,” Amy agreed.

  At the sound of her name, Noche had looked up from nibbling grasses near their feet, the wisdom of the ages in her gentle gaze.

  “If you get quiet long enough, you figure things out,” he said. “Ranchers are lucky. We work the land. We know its rhythms. Rain, drought. Winter, summer. Birth, death.”

  Death. Amy shivered.

  “It’s an ancient way of life that teaches anci
ent truths.”

  “I used to spend a lot of summer days on a ranch like this. Now I stay so busy planning all sorts of events that I can’t hear myself think. I live on the phone.”

  “We chase success until the chase kills us. We’re taught that making money is all that matters.”

  “That’s what my mother believes.”

  “My father’s had a hard time accepting that I’d rather ranch than get really rich.”

  “I used to ride,” Amy said. “I loved it so much.” She sighed. “I…I haven’t ridden in years.”

  “Well, then, you’re like Noche. She used to be ridden.”

  “What happened?”

  “She was injured.”

  “What’s wrong with her?”

  “She has a problem with her stifle.”

  Amy knew the stifle was comparable to the knee in humans.

  “She’s got a cyst,” Steve said. “There’s an operation, but it’s so tricky and risky to the other stifle that, in my opinion, it might as well be inoperable. I just haven’t got the guts to put her through the operation. My vet told me he’d put her down for me.”

  Amy’s heart caught at the sadness in his deep voice. Why did terrible things like this have to happen? Even to horses? She started to touch Steve’s arm and barely managed to stop herself from doing so.

  “Oh, no. How old is she?”

  “Three years.”

  “That’s too bad.”

  “Yes. Well, I’m not putting her down.”

  “So she’s your thousand-pound pet.”

  “I guess some people would see it that way. Others like my father would say she’s a lousy investment.” His dark gaze followed Noche. “But I think she’s beautiful.” His drawl had thickened.

  Steve was staring at Amy with an intensity that made her breath race in confusion. His eyes were midnight-black, his pupils indistinguishable from the irises. What was she going to do about her growing attraction for this incredible man?

  “Noche loves me without question. She is a beautiful, intelligent animal.” His low, caressing tone was as soft as a lover’s. “Perfect or not, I need her.”

  A lump formed in her throat. “That seems like a strange thing for a rancher to say,” she whispered, wondering why her voice caught.

  “It’s the truth.”

  The conviction in his husky baritone and his brilliant, dark eyes made her want things she had no right to want.

  “I…I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll go to dinner with me tonight.”

  Her heart leaped. “To plan the governor’s awards banquet?”

  “If you need an excuse like that, fine.” His voice had a raw edge now. “I want to get to know you better. No sex, I swear. Just conversation.” He grinned. “As long as you don’t wear spandex.” His deep voice had gone softer. “Or something low enough that shows off your tattoo, which is sexier than hell, by the way.”

  Her hands shook a little, and she began to perspire. Placing her hand against her throat for fear he’d see how rapid her pulse was, she struggled to keep her voice calm.

  Just say no, she thought.

  “I suppose we do have a lot to talk about,” she murmured a little hesitantly. “But not tonight. I have a seminar to conduct in Houston tomorrow afternoon and I need to get ready. I may be up all night downloading the presenters’ speeches into laptops for the attendees. I could make it tomorrow night, though.”

  His quick grin was so hot it scorched her bones. “Did you say yes because I won’t put Noche down?”

  She ignored his question. “We do have a lot to talk about,” she said primly. “Lists to make for the awards banquet.”

  “I can’t wait,” he muttered. His grin widened. “Making lists is my favorite thing.” His teasing eyes were deep and dark again as he gazed at her. Not trusting herself, she turned to stare at his beautiful black horse.

  Why was it that the more she was with him, the more she wanted to be with him? The more she had to be with him?

  “Tomorrow night I’ll have to drive straight from the airport to whatever restaurant you choose,” she said.

  “Why don’t you meet me at the Shiny Pony? Around seven? That way if your plane’s late, I’ll have plenty to do while I wait.”

  She had a date, sort of. She wouldn’t have to work late to avoid the loneliness and fear she sometimes felt when four empty walls of her apartment closed in around her.

  She felt like throwing her arms around him, like jumping up and down. Afraid that if she smiled he’d see how eager she was, she bit her lips and looked away.

  He grinned again. “I can’t believe you said yes.”

  “It’s just a planning session,” she said, avoiding his gaze.

  Eight

  Steve felt as nervous as a teenager on his first date as he drove toward Austin. It was six-thirty. He’d be late to meet Amy, judging from the looks of the thickening traffic on I-35 on the north side of San Marcos.

  Tonight he had to go slow with Amy. She was fragile. Despite the hot sex, he didn’t really know her. Just thinking about her made him so anxious to see her, he wanted to stomp on the accelerator.

  To distract himself, he inserted a tape about Greek mythology. The narrator had barely begun to describe Achilles sulking in his tent when Steve yanked the tape out and flung it onto the passenger’s seat.

  The Greeks were too deep for him tonight. He picked up his cell phone and punched in Ryan’s number, intending to apologize for not calling sooner.

  “Have you read the paper?” Ryan demanded without preliminaries.

  “No. Why?”

  “Thunderhawk’s accusing me of murder! And he’s leaked it to the media! Every paper in central Texas is running front-page stories about it. It’s all over the Internet, too.”

  “Murder?”

  “Three little bullet holes in the skull need to be accounted for.”

  “Hell.”

  “The medical examiner says the deceased is in his early thirties. The poor bastard washed up with a lot of his face eaten away by aquatic creatures. He had no identification—other than the blasted Fortune crown birthmark. There it was—like an ugly brand right above his bloated, decomposing right buttock!”

  “I should’ve gone with you.”

  “When I said I’d never seen him before in my life, Thunderhawk demanded that I account for every hour of my time this past week! And when I couldn’t—”

  Steve’s temple was throbbing painfully. “Hold on.”

  A thousand red brake lights were flashing ahead of him. He hit his own brakes hard.

  Ryan continued. “The arrogant bastard said he’d get the truth out of me one way or the other. I think he tipped off the papers in order to put additional pressure on me.”

  Steve remembered the stark pain in Amy’s eyes yesterday. He’d wanted to be in an upbeat, positive mood for her, but now this. Selfishly he almost wished he hadn’t called Ryan. How could he give her the attention she needed when he was worried sick about his mentor and relative?

  “Just a second!” Steve felt his mouth crimp in a taut line even before the brake lights of the eighteen-wheeler directly in front of his truck flared red. Steve slammed on his own brakes so fast, he hurtled forward, causing his seat belt to lock.

  “Surely Thunderhawk is just fishing,” Steve muttered as he squinted at his rearview mirror to make sure the eighteen-wheeler behind him didn’t ram him. Not that he could do anything to prevent a wreck. He was a sitting duck. Rush hour traffic had him boxed in on all sides. He was in a hurry, and he wasn’t going anywhere fast. How long would Amy wait on him at his bar? He needed to call Jeff and tell him to stall her. No way could he get off the phone until Ryan was done venting.

  “Thunderhawk won’t let up. He’s asking questions, but he acts like he already knows all the answers. He’s got everybody in the police department suspecting me. Everybody in Red Rock, too. Hell, everybody in Texas by now.”

  “It can
’t be that bad.”

  “The lead article today in the Austin newspaper makes it sound like I’m the shooter. You know how self-righteous all the busybodies in Red Rock are. People I’ve known all my life barely spoke to me or so much as glanced my way when I bought a couple of hunting knives in the hardware store this morning. They treated me like dirt!”

  “Good thing I haven’t read the paper yet.”

  Ryan didn’t laugh.

  When Steve’s truck crawled to the top of a hill, he saw that the traffic was stalled for miles. Damn. Amy would be gone by the time he got to Austin.

  Why hadn’t he left the ranch earlier for his dinner date? He wished to hell he could say or do something that would make Ryan feel better, too. Hell, what he really wanted was to hang up and call Jeff.

  “So, why the hell does Thunderhawk suspect you?”

  “I wish I knew.” Ryan’s bitter voice trailed off. “I kept telling them I never saw the dead guy before. I’ve said that so many times I’m sick of saying it.”

  “You really don’t have the slightest idea who he might be? Any missing relatives?”

  “N-no.”

  When Steve caught the hesitation in his mentor’s voice, his gut clenched.

  “I finally told Thunderhawk I won’t answer any more of his questions without my lawyer present.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the criminal justice system in this country sucks. Because there’s a couple of days and nights when I was home alone…and Lily was in San Antonio.”

  Again Steve caught that hesitant note in Ryan’s low voice.

  “Did you talk to anybody on the phone those nights? Lily?”

  “N-no.”

  “But you always—”

  “Damnation! Now you’re accusing me!”

  The phone went dead.

  Steve stared at his phone in disbelief. What was going on? Had Ryan hung up on him? Was he lying? Lily and he always called each other when they were apart. Was he hiding something?