Trouble in Summer Valley

by Susan Y. Tanner

  He said as much to Avery. They had almost reached the turn in to the hospital when she finally spoke, and all she said was, “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

  The little-girl-lost quality of her voice tugged as hard at Dirks emotionally as her earlier kick-ass stance, caught in the headlights of his truck, legs braced, and shotgun cradled in her arm had yanked at him physically.

  He angled smoothly into a parking slot near the main entrance, hearing the release of Avery’s seatbelt almost before he had the truck in park. Acting on feeling rather than thought, he caught her hand in his before she could hit the door latch. The action – his hand on hers – caused her to turn in surprise, eyes wide and lips opened to question or protest or curse. He had no idea which.

  Before she could do or say anything, before his mind could convince him of the greater wisdom in restraint, Dirks captured those open lips with his, tugging her gently closer with his hand. To his wonderment, instead of snatching that hand away, instead of pulling back, she leaned in. He deepened the kiss, feeling things he hadn’t felt for a woman in a long time, emotions mixed with purely physical lust.

  His free hand cradled her face and he fought the urge to do anything else with that hand, to explore other aspects of the woman who was an unexpected wrecking ball to his senses – at least for now.

  When Avery slowly pulled away, he let her go, released her hand.

  Her eyes, which had fluttered closed under his kiss, were wide again. She touched the hand he’d held to her lips, then said faintly, “Well ... damn.”

  She fumbled to open the door behind her, eyes still locked with his, until she turned and stepped down out of the truck.

  He followed her across the parking lot, fighting a grin. Yeah. Damn.

  Avery watched Carlee sleep, firmly pushing thoughts of Dirks and the kiss they’d shared out of her mind. That kiss, and her reaction to it, was for later. Much later.

  Avery had tried to make Tucker go home, back to the ranch for rest, but he’d refused. Heading with Dirks to the hospital cafeteria and twenty-four-hour grill was as far as he was willing to go from Carlee.

  Her step-daughter, no, not step-daughter - daughter - child of her heart, even if not her body, seemed restful but Avery’s stomach was in knots once more. How could she protect her? How could her father have put her at risk?

  Nurses came and went, barely making a ripple in Avery’s awareness. After a battery of tests and scans, the doctor had given an all clear the previous evening, no back or neck injury, no brain trauma. Doubtless sore muscles, aches and pains to go with the bruises, but otherwise okay. Carlee had made him promise she’d be released after the night of observation he insisted upon. He’d promised on condition that Carlee showed no signs of concussion through the night.

  Still Avery could not overcome the bone-deep fear that gripped her, not even when Carlee opened her eyes and smiled. “You look a mess and I’m sure I look a hell of a lot worse.” Her voice sounded a bit groggy but her gaze was clear.

  “Carlee, I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t. Avery, just don’t. None of this is your fault and we both know whose fault it is.”

  “I don’t know what to do to keep you safe.”

  “It’s your safety we have to worry about, Avery, not mine. Whoever was in that truck made a mistake this time, but we might not be so lucky the next.”

  “I still can’t believe Craig did this.”

  “I can’t be sure it was my dad or his truck. Tucker’s convinced but everything happened so fast. Maybe Dad wasn’t driving, maybe he was, but it’s his fault either way.” Carlee’s eyes were bleak. She closed them briefly and then opened them again. “And I’m sorry about your SUV. I guess it’s back in the shop again.”

  “Yes, and someone is going to have to explain to me why the air bags didn’t deploy.”

  “Actually, it’s not all that uncommon. There are a lot of factors that come into play.” The sound of Dirks’ voice from the doorway pulled Avery’s gaze like a magnet. He’d been up as long as any of them, but the dark stubble where he hadn’t had time to shave looked like pure, rugged male rather than the mess Carlee had proclaimed her to be.

  Avery pulled her thoughts and her attention back to Carlee who had glanced up as the two men came back into the room, but closed her eyes again almost immediately. “Carlee, are you hurting?”

  “No, just trying to get my thoughts together. Avery, you’ve got to change your will so the ranch doesn’t come to me if anything happens to you.”

  “Not going to happen.” Avery was amazed at the steadiness in her voice when renewed fury at Craig pulsed through her veins with every beat of her heart.

  “You’ve got to. Something’s broken inside my dad’s head if he thinks I’d use your money to help him out of the mess he’s in. That would be the only explanation for his crazy actions. Who knows what he’ll do next. Or maybe he told those goons he owes that you’re the only thing standing between them and repayment. And who knows what they’ll do next.”

  “Even if I was willing, and I’m not, who else would I leave it to? I’m the only child of an only child and no surviving relatives.”

  “Leave it to Tucker or Leanne. You’re not going to be safe until he – or they - know he can’t get his hands on anything through me.”

  “Carlee, I’m just not going to do that. You can tell him I did, but you helped make the ranch. It’s yours as much as mine.”

  Carlee just shook her head but Avery could tell by her step-daughter’s expression that she wasn’t done with this particular argument. That was fine. Avery knew it wasn’t an argument Carlee would win no matter how long or loudly she pursued it.

  Dirks stepped out onto the curving sidewalk at the front entrance of the hospital while Avery helped Carlee dress for the trip home. The doctor would have preferred to keep her one more night but Carlee was adamant about her release, reminding him of his promise, and he finally conceded to her insistence.

  The morning air was still faintly cool, but that wasn’t going to last long. Late summer had hit central Alabama with a vengeance.

  Preoccupied as Dirks was, his subconscious registered the shiny Goldwing barely a split second before his conscious. The man stowing his helmet ignored Dirks until he spoke.

  “You were at the courthouse.” Dirks had no doubt. The bulge of muscle across shoulders, neck and back. The dark, buzz-cut hair. Dirks’ brain recorded the tiny tattoo on the back of one hand. It was an odd design, apropos of nothing that Dirks could tell. He’d want to look that up later, though he suspected it had little or nothing to do with the matter at hand.

  The other man turned, a placid expression belying the sharp gaze. “Was I?”

  “And at the scene of a wreck last night.”

  The expression tightened. “You are mistaken.”

  No street thug, this one. His speech was smooth with no hint of accent. His clothes mirrored his bike. Expensive.

  “I’ll be watching to see if you turn up anywhere near Summer Valley Ranch. It would be a mistake on your part.”

  “Threatening me is a mistake on yours. A much worse mistake.”

  Dirks watched as the other man retrieved the helmet he’d just stowed and threw a leg over his bike.

  Dirks smiled grimly. “As long as I don’t see you again there won’t be any problem.”

  Dirks stood back as the motorcycle engine caught and roared. Just as he’d made note of the tattoo, he quickly memorized the tag. He’d share the tag and his concerns with Farley.

  The rider didn’t look back as he wheeled his bike smoothly into the flow of traffic on the street in front of the hospital.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Well, it certainly seems as if young Carlee is not one to go about all pallid and weak in the face of adversity. Likely, she was never one to skive off school as a child. She beat Ms. Gorgeous out the door this morning, stooping to give me a stroke on her way past with that morning cup of brew - joe or java or by wha
tever name it is called - most all of my humans seem to enjoy. The drink is an enigma to me and I can only suppose the taste is more appealing than the odor which is not unpleasant but certainly nothing equivalent to an enticing dish of cream or broth.

  Carlee herself is somewhat of a puzzle as well, or rather I find certain aspects of her behavior to be so. That light stroke along my back, for one, which she never fails to bestow. It is not for show, of that I am confident as there is frequently no one about to witness, such as now. I just would never take her for a cat human, certainly not that Carlee is any way disagreeable toward me for she never is. It’s more, rather, that she takes scant – if any – notice of me much of the time. In fairness, I must ask myself if my vanity is slighted that not all humans recognize the depths of my intellect and sleuthing skills. But vanity aside, the Egyptians knew what they were doing when they proclaimed the cat as the great god.

  Ms. Gorgeous has certainly come to understand and appreciate my abilities and there she is now, moving with that exquisite grace of hers. Ah, and lovely person that she is, her first move is to fill a clean bowl with the sweetest cream. It is this awareness and consideration of my basic needs that seems lacking in Carlee, as it is in so many other humans. Nor does Ms. Gorgeous select just any bowl for my morning repast, mind you, but one of exquisitely patterned and quite delicate china, a fitting vessel for a god. Heh, heh. She is a woman of refinement, one who understands that presentation is essential to the art of fine dining.

  Oh dear! I discern the sound of another truck and trailer entering the premises. I do hope it isn’t a return of the nasty Mr. Markham. A quick glance at Ms. Gorgeous reassures me on that score. Though she has heard as well, her expression remains serene. At ease, I set my attention to the delectable dish before me. Whatever the humans are about this morning, I have at least these few moments of peace before I once more set my attention to pulling the latest pieces of the puzzle together. It’s unlikely that whoever forced Ms. Gorgeous’ SUV into a roll-over with Carlee driving is not part of the threats that face Summer Valley Ranch.

  Is the ex-husband childishly acting out his anger at having lost the court battle? Was the intent to scare and intimidate or was it a serious attempt at murder? Or was it the despicable Markham, or a hired minion, at the wheel? Should I anticipate a next move as being some threat in the guise of a warning or blackmail attempt from one or the other of them?

  Oh, dear, I did not nearly enjoy my lovely cream as much as I might have for mulling over these possibilities. I must more closely guard myself to ensure I remain in the moment when enjoying such elegant repast.

  However, now that I have finished, I’ll take a pass through the barns. I’ve no doubt that the security team Mr. Military engaged is as vigilant as any human could be, but they are – after all – only human.

  Avery waited as the woman clad in jeans and tee shirt stepped out of the big rig. Her hair was pulled through a ball cap in a loose pony tail. “Malone, it’s so good to see you again.”

  The other woman returned the smile. “I’m glad you called me. The video you sent of the mare was pretty impressive. She has a nice stride and a really quick turn and I know I can trust your judgement on her disposition.” She turned a sweeping gaze on the barns and paddocks. “I just love this place. It’s so well laid-out. My barns are such a hodge-podge, us throwing things together as we needed them.”

  Avery laughed. “It was sometimes hard not to do that myself but I stuck to my vision even though it sometimes meant waiting until the money was right to move ahead on the next phase. And how is the rodeo business?”

  “Wickedly paced. I made the finals again, hauled twelve outside horses and three of my own. I thought I’d be slowing down by now, but … busy is better.”

  Avery had met the woman just a few years earlier. She knew how difficult life had been for her.

  “I did much appreciate the note you sent.” Malone’s voice was quiet and Avery caught a glimpse of the shadows that lingered in her eyes. “Now about this mare.”

  “She’s in barn one.” They fell into step together as Avery continued to talk about the horse. “Tucker has given her a clean bill of health, x-rays and all. No sign of bone chips or spurs that would give you any problems later on. I have no idea where she came from or what sent her to the kill pen. She was a rack of bones with sad, sad eyes but no one who saw her then would recognize her now. This girl is gorgeous.”

  “Personality?”

  “Sweet but not particularly peaceful. She’s playful, too much so for most of our clients though a few of the more skilled riders enjoy her as much as I do. More than once, when I’d watch her racing across the pasture, dodging the other horses in some game of her own, I’d think of you. It was Leanne who finally accepted that she needed a different kind of job. All of us agree we could probably find ways and places for her to be useful here but we’re not where she’ll be happiest.”

  They stepped into the cool of the barn and Avery led the way to a wide stall. “Meet JJ’s Red Jasmine. We call her Jaz.”

  At the sound of her voice, Jaz immediately abandoned the rubber ball hung from a tether for her entertainment and stepped closer, thrusting her head over the stall door and nickering a greeting.

  Malone moved close, rubbing her hand over the broad forehead, clearly delighted when the mare pushed back against the caress in pleasure. “What eyes, what beautiful eyes. Where’s her halter?”

  Avery chuckled, taking the halter and lead from a horseshoe hook outside the stall. She handed it over and stepped aside, giving control to the accomplished horsewoman she knew Malone to be.

  Malone led the mare to her trailer and spent a moment brushing and grooming. “I know she doesn’t need it, she absolutely gleams, but I need a moment for her to get to know me and to figure out which saddle will be most comfortable to her.”

  Avery would have done the same. Saddles were always personal choices of feel and fit for both horse and rider.

  After lifting and checking each hoof, Malone saddled the mare with what Avery could see was well-used but meticulously-cared for tack. Minutes later, horse and rider were in the paddock. Malone spent time slowly warming up the mare’s muscles before moving her seamlessly from one gait to another. Skillfully, perfectly in sync, they executed a series of side-passes, small circles, spins, and backing. After half an hour, Malone was grinning, her delight evident.

  In the time Malone had been working the mare, Tucker had moved to stand beside Avery, then Leanne and finally Carlee. They watched together as Malone walked the mare to cool her out.

  “From that expression, I’d say Jaz may just have found her ‘forever’ home.” Leanne sounded delighted.

  “Well, at least she’ll be off the feed and vet bill.” Carlee commented.

  “She’s earned her keep in the time she’s been here,” Leanne returned quickly.

  Though aware of the exchange, Avery didn’t comment on it. Leanne’s tone had been a little defensive, perhaps, though Carlee hadn’t been caustic in the least. It had been a simple statement of fact. Carlee was the most practical of them and Avery knew someone had to be. She and Leanne were less so but they were still cautious not to overextend the ranch. It was the livelihood, after all, for all of them. It allowed them the opportunity to do what they loved and make a better-than-average living doing it while helping both the humans and the horses that crossed their path. It was a hurtful fact that they couldn’t save everyone and everything. It just wasn’t possible.

  Malone was still smiling as she led the mare toward them. She nodded when Avery asked if she remembered her team. “I do and it’s good to see you all again. What a handle this gal has! Who gets the glory for that?”

  Leanne, who’d ridden her most, stepped forward. “She came to us that way. All we had to do was put some weight back on her and rebuild her muscle.”

  “Well, I’m completely won over. How long has she been here?”

  “A little over six months,” Carle
e chimed.

  Malone stared straight at Avery. “I want her, no doubt. I know you don’t sell your horses. I remember that from my first trip here and my first rescue, who has won me a ton of money by the way. Still and all, I’d like to reimburse you for what you have in her.”

  The figure she named had Avery shaking her head. “That’s way more than what we put into her and we’ve enjoyed her while she was here.”

  “Then you tell me.”

  Avery cut the amount by more than half, adding. “Truly, though, we don’t need anything back. I called you because I thought she’d be a better fit for your world than ours. She’s yours for the taking.”

  “It’s more than fair to me. If she doesn’t take to barrels, I’ll have no problem getting that back for her as a rope prospect. Her build is pure athlete and her mind seems sound. Eager but not agitated. I won’t lose a penny but I’m betting my heart she’ll love running drums.”

  “She doesn’t have registration papers,” Carlee cautioned, “at least not that came with her. All we have is a piece of paper giving ownership to us with her name and description. I suspect she has good bloodline. We just couldn’t find any way of tracing them back to her. We don’t try with the geldings but we do with the mares in case we want to breed them. It helps to know what genetics to avoid and what to blend together.”

  “I understand that, there are some lines out there I don’t want anywhere in my string, but, really, I don’t need papers. I make my living competing, for myself and for others, not buying and selling. A simple bill of sale is all I need.”

  “I’ll get that ready while you unsaddle,” Carlee offered.