“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Jodie said.
“You’re limping.”
“I’m not going,” Jodie said. “Christine’s having her baby there!”
Curious eyes peered at them from the occasional car that passed by. A few people stood in the doorway of the café, the siren and flashing lights drawing their attention.
Jodie knew she only needed time to collect herself. No bones were broken, or she wouldn’t be able to hold her weight, but after everything, this was just about the last straw.
“C’mon,” Tate said. “We need to check out that knee. Not the hospital,” he added quickly when she held back.
He switched off the patrol car’s emergency signals, then drove them to a small house not far away.
The interior of the house had as little to offer as the exterior. It looked like a place someone used part-time. There was very little reflection of personality, except that, for the most part, it was neat and clean.
“Is this your place?” Jodie asked.
“Mi casa es su casa,” he said with a wry smile, picking up a discarded newspaper and an empty soft-drink can.
My house is your house, a Spanish courtesy. But it had been said in such a way that Jodie felt uncomfortable. As if Tate expected her to judge him poorly because of a perceived gap in their social standing.
“It’s...nice,” Jodie said.
“It’s somewhere to sleep,” Tate replied, removing his hat and setting it on a table by the front door. “Sit down. Can you pull up that pant leg?”
Jodie hitched up the blue denim of her jeans, noticing as she did the bright spots of blood. She didn’t tell him that her hip felt worse than her knee. She didn’t want him demanding to inspect it.
He made a sound deep in his throat and walked into what she guessed was the bathroom. She heard a medicine chest open and close, just before he returned with cotton balls, antiseptic and a large Band-Aid.
Without further words he knelt at her side and attended to her injury, gently cleansing it and covering it.
Jodie couldn’t look away. Not from the closely clipped brown hair that still held the imprint of his hat, not from his hands that touched her with seeming indifference, when before they’d ignited her body to such wonderful... She turned her head, grimacing as she rejected the disturbing thought. She didn’t need to add to her troubles!
“Sorry,” he apologized gruffly.
She smiled grimly. He thought he’d hurt her.
“No, it’s not—”
“Anywhere else?” he asked.
Jodie shook her head.
He stood up, as if relieved to have finished the job. “I know you want to get back to the hospital, but I need just a minute or two of your time.”
Jodie gazed up at him, torn between desire and tears. Because of the way he was distancing himself? Because of the way he had always held himself aloof? She didn’t understand—either why he did it or why it was important to her that he stop.
She saw his jaw grind and realized he’d asked her a question, one she had yet to respond to.
“I asked if you’re willing to press charges against the Hammonds. I’ve just been waiting for something to bring ’em in on. What they did to you qualifies as assault and battery, possibly even attempted kidnapping.”
Jodie shook her head. “No. I don’t want to do that.”
“They scared the daylights out of you, didn’t they? And they knocked you down.”
“I still don’t want to do it. It’ll only make everything worse. Aunt Mae will go ballistic if she learns I’ve been hurt. She and Rafe could go after them. I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have.”
Tears again threatened as she struggled to her feet. But she didn’t want to cry in front of him. She was Jodie Parker. Jodie...Parker! Listen to her! As if she was somehow better than anyone else because of her last name! That wasn’t like her! She never—
Tate grabbed her hand to keep her from stumbling on her first step—her left hand, with the burned fingers. She gave an instinctive mew of pain.
“What?” he demanded sharply.
“It’s nothing.”
He turned her hand over and examined it. When he saw the redness and the light blistering, he demanded, “How did this happen?”
“Hot coffee. I threw the rest in Tom’s face.”
A frown and a smile jostled with each other, and the smile won. “The hell you say!”
She nodded. “I did. Right before you drove up.”
“Maybe I should have left you to it, then. You might’ve whupped ’em all.”
Jodie’s smile was wobbly. “I might’ve.”
He smoothed an escaped tear away with his thumb. “It’s not really very funny, though, is it?”
She shook her head again, unable to speak through a too-tight throat. He was being kind and thoughtful and concerned.
“That’s why I think you should press charges. These people are loose cannons. And until we get the final word on Rio’s alibi, they’ll be better off in jail. It’ll be safer for them, for you, for your whole family—for everyone.”
They remained close. Him holding her hand, her looking up.
Their gazes locked for a long time, and slowly he bent to kiss her.
Then someone rang the doorbell.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“TATE! I WAS JUST on my way to the station when I saw your car out front and I wondered—”
Emma Connelly’s words halted the moment she stepped into the house and saw Jodie. She looked from Jodie to Tate and back again, disbelievingly at first, then with her cheeks flushing crimson.
For the first time in years Tate was annoyed with his mother. Or rather, with her timing. Five more minutes, one more minute, and they might’ve...He couldn’t remain annoyed with his mother for long, though, in view of her obvious embarrassment.
“Jodie had a little accident, Mom,” he explained. “She, ah, I was helping her.”
Jodie’s pant leg, still hitched up, revealed the wide Band-Aid. She, too, appeared ill at ease in the situation. “Tate’s been very kind, Mrs. Connelly.”
“What happened?” Emma asked.
Tate felt Jodie’s quick look. He knew she didn’t want to advertise the altercation. He also knew his mother’s propensity for gossip. She’d never say a word about anything that happened on the job, but events outside it were fair game. Unless he asked for her silence, which, in this case, would only bring on more questions. “She fell,” he said simply.
His mother raised a skeptical eyebrow, but didn’t pursue it. “Are you hurt bad?” she asked Jodie.
Jodie shook her head and bent to roll down her pant leg. As she straightened, she said, “I should get back to the hospital, Tate.” Then to Emma, “Christine Hughes is having her baby. We had to rush her into town, but now it looks as if it’s going to take some time. Still, I’d like to be there.”
Tate looked at his mother. “Did you need something special?” he asked.
“I just saw your car, that’s all. And I know you usually—” She broke off, gave her head a little shake, then turned to Jodie. “Christine Hughes is expecting a little girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jodie replied.
They parted company moments later, Jodie having limped back out to the patrol car, while his mother returned to her car.
Jodie didn’t miss the long look Emma gave them as she pulled away. “She’s not convinced,” she said evenly.
“No,” he agreed.
“Will it cause problems?”
“No.”
He wondered if she was thinking of the interrupted kiss, like he was. And if she, like him, wanted the moment back. He was aware of every movement she made, of the little adjustment she gave when she bent her knee too far and felt pain, of the way she cradled her left hand.
Black anger burned through him when he thought of the Hammonds’ assault. In his mind’s eye he could see the scene as he had then, tail
ing the pickup from a distance, seeing it turn around, seeing the men converge on an unsuspecting Jodie. Then being delayed in traffic...and having to watch as she was knocked to the ground.
No matter what Jodie said, he was going to have them picked up. He wanted another little talk with them. Maybe he could yet instill the fear of God.
He turned into the hospital parking lot and pulled the patrol car as close as he could to the front entrance.
“I didn’t think you’d want to go in through the emergency room. A doctor might see you and think you’re an accident victim.”
She turned her lovely yellow-green eyes on him and his heart skipped a beat. “Tate,” she said sincerely, “I didn’t thank you for scaring those terrible men away, for ministering to my wounds, for—” her lips curved into a dry smile “—not giving me away to your mother.”
He shrugged. “Would you like me to go inside with you?”
She motioned to Harriet and LeRoy’s car and the two Parker Ranch pickups parked nearby. “No. Everyone’s here now. It’d just draw attention.”
She sighed lightly, then reached for the door handle. But before she could open it, he said, “Jodie?”
She looked back at him, and Tate couldn’t help it. He leaned over and completed the kiss they’d begun earlier. Kissed her hard and with feeling.
“You take care,” he said huskily when at last he pulled away. “Don’t go gettin’ yourself hurt any more. Stay away from where the Hammonds can find you.”
Jodie blinked as if dazed. Then she smiled. “Something tells me it’s a good thing your mother interrupted us when she did.”
“Or?” he probed, compelled.
Her smile deepened. “Or...who knows?”
She wriggled away from him and out of the car, not without a degree of difficulty as she tried to protect her leg. Then she waved to him before disappearing through the entrance. As he watched, her limp lightened, until it was disciplined into nonexistence. She was determined that her family not learn of the incident.
ELISABETH JANE HUGHES was born two hours later. Blond like her father and weighing a little over six pounds. There was no difficulty with her birth, either for mother or child.
Afterward the entire family crowded into the room. “She’s beautiful!” was the general consensus.
“She might have light hair, but look at that face!” Mae pronounced loftily. “That’s a Parker if ever I saw one!”
Harriet rushed back into the room from having called LeRoy at the ranch to give him the good news. “LeRoy and the boys have already started to celebrate!”
“That’s what we keep a couple of bottles of ol’ Jack Daniels’ around for,” Rafe said, grinning.
Morgan stood at one side of his wife’s bed, while Erin stood at the other. It was difficult to tell who was proudest. Both were beaming broadly. Shannon and Rafe were holding on to each other, while Mae thrust out her chest. Gib, as usual, was a little off to himself, but smiling hugely. And the paternal grandparents, Delores and Dub Hughes, could barely contain themselves. A new Parker, merged with their bloodline, had been born into the clan.
Jodie shared in the joy, hugging and being hugged. She, too, was very happy for Christine and Morgan. And for Erin. Hopefully the cloud of doubt that had continued to haunt the young girl’s life would be completely dispelled by the birth of her sister.
Shortly afterward, the crowd moved back into the waiting room to give the new family a bit of privacy, and minutes after that they left for home.
Dusk had fallen by the time they arrived at the ranch. There was a small get-together at Mae’s house to toast the new arrival.
The effort to keep her injuries secret had exhausted Jodie. By day’s end it was almost too much. When she thought no one was looking, she discreetly massaged her aching hip.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mae demanded, coming up behind her.
Jodie jumped. “Nothing,” she lied.
“I’ve been watching you. Somethin’s not right. Don’t try to fool me, Missy. I’ve known you for too long.”
“I... My hip. I stumbled. It was silly really. A stupid thing to do.”
Mae pursed her mouth. “Somethin’s not right about that, either,” she said, “but it’s been too long a day.” Her dark eyes were shadowed, and she looked almost as tired as Jodie felt. Still, she had enough energy left to say, “You did a good job of caring for Christine. An excellent job. I’m proud of you.”
To top it all off, praise from Mae! “Thanks,” Jodie said huskily.
Her hip ached, her knee ached, her hand still stung from the burn. She had plenty of things to get misty-eyed about. So why did a few words of approval from her great-aunt hit her with such force? Because when Mae gave praise it really meant something? Because deep down she’d do just about anything to gain her aunt’s respect?
Jodie hobbled along the driveway to her house and for the first time that day found true relief when she closed herself in her room.
TATE AVOIDED his mother when he arrived at the station the next morning. He knew she was burning with curiosity, but he wasn’t in the mood to satisfy it.
As usual there was a stack of phone messages waiting, but the one that gained his immediate attention came from the sheriff in the next county noting he’d located an individual by the name of Joe-Bob Tucker.
Tate grabbed the phone, punched in the number and within seconds was connected with the sheriff, Frank White.
“What’s this about a Joe-Bob Tucker?” he asked. “You think he’s my man?”
Frank’s gravelly voice growled, “Fits your description to a T. Fresh from a ranch in Montana, working at a small place on the far edge of the county. Brown hair, dark eyes, right age—about six-two and brawny.”
“If it’s not him, it’s his twin,” Tate said. “You had a chance to talk with him yet?”
“Thought you’d like to do the honors yourself.”
“Got the number of the ranch?”
“I was just about to give it to you.”
Tate jotted the number down, thanked his friend and dialed it. Minutes later he shot up from his chair.
“I’ll be gone for two, maybe three hours,” he told his mother and Rose Martinez as he headed out the door. “Over in Debolt County. If anybody needs me...” They knew the rest—contact him only in dire emergencies.
“Tate?” his mother called, stopping him.
He looked back.
“I’d like to talk with you later, all right?”
“Sure,” he agreed. “Later.” He could feel her worried gaze follow him outside.
It wasn’t that he was still annoyed with her for interrupting any possible intimacy with Jodie. He was annoyed with everybody and everything! He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, but he hadn’t really expected to. He’d stayed out as late as he could, spelling one of the deputies who needed a few hours off. Then he’d stopped by the jail, always good for an extra hour or two. But finally he’d had to go home, where he’d felt Jodie’s presence as strongly as if she was still there. Just as he’d been afraid he would.
She was teasing him. He knew it. But why? Because she was bored? Because she actually did find him attractive? What did it all mean? Where was it going to end up? Where could it possibly end up?
Such questions had tortured him for the remainder of the night. And when he’d dozed off toward morning, other more intimate images had jerked him awake more than once.
He wasn’t in a much better frame of mind when he arrived at the small ranch in Debolt County, shook hands with the owner and was introduced to a large man, close to his own age, with big rough hands and a surprisingly soft voice, who carried with him a good helping of range dust.
“You ever been in Clayborne County, Colorado?” Tate asked.
“Only passin’ through.”
“How about at a ropin’ contest nearly two weeks back?”
Joe-Bob Tucker tilted his head in consideration. “Yeah.”
“You ent
er the contest?”
“I sure did. Didn’t win, though.”
“You do anything else?”
The cowboy smiled. “You mean legal or illegal?”
“Let’s just say some circles might frown on it.”
“I played cards.”
“Who with?”
“Some friends of mine.”
“Who exactly?”
“Couple of brothers I know from Colorado, a friend from Montana and another ol’ boy I’ve known off and on for years.”
“Names would be helpful.”
“Will and Matthew Daniels, “Little Hat” McGraw and Rio Walsh.”
Bingo! Tate thought, his solar plexus tightening. “When exactly did this card game take place?”
“Lemme see. The contest started on Saturday, with the finals on Sunday. There were card games Friday night and Saturday night.”
“And you played cards with these people both nights?”
Joe-Bob laughed. “Well,” he said, rubbing a thick finger along his chin, “Rio practically cleaned us out the first night, so we kinda hid from him the second. I don’t even know if he was in town Saturday night. I didn’t see him.”
“This card game Friday night, how long did it last?”
“All night. Like they usually do.”
“And Rio Walsh was there all night?”
“Only left to pee.”
“What about the others?”
“Way Rio was winnin’, you couldn’t’ve dragged any of us away! We didn’t think his luck could last! Man’s luckier than a damned—”
Tate had heard enough. “All right, Mr. Tucker, that’s all. Except, I’ll need you to make a statement to this effect to Sheriff White, and I’ll also need the phone numbers and addresses where your other buddies can be reached.”
“Sure, yeah, I can do that. It’s easy.” He paused. “Is Rio in some kind of trouble?”
“He could’ve been.”
“So, in a way, his luck finally did run out?”
“Yeah,” Tate agreed, “for a little while it did.”
JODIE’S FIRST THOUGHT when she awoke that morning was that time had almost run out. It was Wednesday, and Rio was going to leave at sunset if he didn’t hear from her. She had to do something. But what?
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