by B. J Daniels
After he checked the saloon this time, the hell if he wasn’t going to the diner. He’d make it quick, but he wanted to make sure that he and Vicki were still on for later tonight. On these kinds of nights, there was nothing he liked better than making love. He just hoped Vicki would be up for it. He’d found that women were willing until they got their hooks into you and then they started having a lot of headaches. That better not be what she wanted to talk about.
He was almost to the saloon when he realized that the damned light was out. Harp blinked and slowed his patrol SUV. “What the hell?” he muttered. He glanced at the time. Probably one of the hired help forgot about the so-called signal and turned it out. As he drew closer, he could see Darby Cahill’s pickup parked outside. Next to it was a motorcycle.
He grinned to himself, thinking about the owner of the bike. That was one good-looking woman, but there was something about her that said hands-off. He remembered the contemptuous look she’d given him when he’d flirted with her one night at the bar. The warning look in her eyes told him she was stuck up. He wanted nothing to do with that.
There were too many women like Vicki who came willingly. He didn’t even need to make much effort. He wasn’t about to put in a lot of work for a woman like Mariah. But apparently Darby didn’t feel the same way since Harp had noticed that the motorcycle never left anymore. Maybe Mariah liked cowboys better than deputies, though he certainly couldn’t understand why.
There were no other vehicles around. As he drove past, he tried to see inside. Too dark. He glanced toward the upstairs apartment. Dark. There seemed to be only one light on—a small one back in the kitchen. He kept driving, debating what to do.
The sheriff had been very specific. Light out, call him. Do nothing.
Flint treated him like he was a child instead of a full-fledged sheriff’s department deputy and Harp was damned sick of it. If there was trouble back at the saloon, he could handle it. Might make the sheriff finally realize just how valuable he was.
Around the next corner, he pulled over in front of an old cabin and sat for a minute deciding what to do. Lightning splintered the sky around him, followed by a teeth-rattling boom of thunder. Huge raindrops pelted the hood of the patrol SUV. Did he really want to get out in this deluge for a damned Cahill?
* * *
MARIAH WAS STILL shaking as she stared at the kitchen floor by the back door. “The floor is soaked.”
“I’ll turn the light back on in front,” Darby said. “Bolt that back door. It must not have been closed all the way before. I don’t want it coming open again. I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”
Mariah nodded, her heart still trying to beat its way out of her chest. She’d thought for sure it was Rafael and a half dozen of his cousins. She started toward the back door but there was water everywhere. Retracing her steps, she went down the hall to the storage cabinet and got the mop.
As she began mopping her way toward the back door, the lights flickered and went out, pitching her into blackness.
“Darby?” She hated the way her voice cracked. “Darby?” She dropped the mop handle, trying to remember what she’d done with the baseball bat. Her mind was whirling. Why hadn’t he answered her? “Darby!” She practically screamed it over the thunder and lightning and rain that hammered at the kitchen windows.
“I’m looking for the flashlight,” he called back. Relief washed over her. She stumbled into the table hitting her hip hard. She heard the bat roll away from her and reached for it.
“There are candles in the cupboard by the kitchen table,” Darby called. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Her fingers closed over the bat. She took a step toward the back door. A fluttering bolt of lightning lit the kitchen. Something moved outside the window, a dark hulking figure.
Mariah screamed as the window suddenly shattered, glass going everywhere. She rushed toward the back door. The floor was still slick with rainwater. She slipped in her hurry and fell to one knee, dropping the bat. Pulling herself up, she managed to grab the knob. Fingers trembling from fear and cold, she frantically turned the lock. Collapsing on the floor in a puddle of cold water, she leaned against the door.
Rain lashed through the broken kitchen window. Even in the dark, she could now see what had burst through the window. The leaves on the limb from the old cottonwood tree next to the building fluttered in the open window.
Darby came racing into the kitchen, the shotgun in one hand, a flashlight beam bobbing in the other. His face was white in the ambient light. He looked from her on the floor to the limb now partway into the kitchen and slowly lowered the shotgun.
“Apparently it is going to be one of those nights,” he said with a humorous chuckle. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and, picking up the baseball bat, let him help her to her feet. “I just want to go to bed, but I guess that’s out of the question until we do something about this window.”
Darby nodded. “You can go on up. I’ll pull the limb out and cover the window as best I can for tonight. We’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
She hugged herself, unwilling to let go of the bat just yet. The storm roared, the wind whipping her hair, raindrops drenching her even more. She shivered from the cold and the scare. “I’m not going anywhere without you. I’ll help. The way the wind is blowing, it is going to take both of us anyway.”
* * *
HARP SAT, WATCHING the storm intensify. Rain thundered on the roof of the patrol SUV. Lightning lit the western landscape. The explosion of thunder was so close it made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.
He swore. Call Flint? Or go back and see if there was even a problem?
Cursing the weather, he shifted the SUV into gear and headed back toward the Stagecoach Saloon.
He’d been in a snit all evening. Feeling anxious, he thought about Vicki at Sue’s Diner. She would be getting off her shift about now. He’d promised to stop by so they could “talk.”
Well, that wasn’t going to happen now. Not that he had been looking forward to it. She probably wanted some kind of commitment. Didn’t all women?
He’d managed not to get caught, barely skating by on more than one occasion. As much as he liked doing it with Vicki, he wasn’t interested in taking it any further.
So he supposed he didn’t mind putting off the talk for another time as he came around the corner and the Stagecoach Saloon came into view.
He had been hoping the light would be back on. That would solve at least one of his problems. But even through the driving rain, he could see that the damned light was still out.
He slowed and then sped up. If there was trouble at the bar, he couldn’t very well just pull up out front in a patrol car. He’d have to go on up the road, park and walk back.
In this weather? He cursed the Cahills as he found a place to pull off and turned in. It would be a good quarter mile walk unless he cut across the pasture and dropped in the back way. That would be the wisest—if there were trouble.
And there damned well better be. If some fool had forgotten and turned off the light, making him have to trek through this storm... He didn’t know what he would do. Punch something.
He reached in the back for his rain jacket, checked his weapons and sat again for a moment, trying to talk himself out of doing this. If there was trouble, he could use his shotgun. If not...
The shotgun was heavy and it would be a good walk uphill for a while before he could drop into the back of the saloon.
Shrugging into his rain jacket, he pulled up the hood. He opted to just take his service revolver, stun gun, handcuffs and baton. He doubted he’d even need those as he braced himself and shoved open the patrol SUV door. It took all his strength against the wind.
Rain beat down on him as he turned his back to the wind to zip his jacket up higher and then
started up the hillside toward a stand of pines.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
HARP HAD JUST topped the hill, when he saw a set of headlights blink out down the road behind the saloon. He stared in that direction for a moment, figuring it was probably some teenagers back there in the pines making out.
If he didn’t have to check on the Cahills, he’d go have a look. He’d love to catch a couple of teens going hot and heavy. He loved the looks on their faces when he snuck up to their vehicle, popped up and shone the flashlight over them. Talk about scrambling to cover up. He smiled now at the thought. At least it would perk up his night because so far this sucked.
Rain ran off the brim of his raincoat. He could barely see the saloon at times as he started down the hill toward the backside of the building. Still no light burning out front. But with a curse, he noticed that there was no light burning in the back now either. Glancing toward town, he saw that there were no lights for about a mile or so from here.
The power must have gone off. Swearing, he stopped halfway down the hillside. What was the point of going the rest of the way? He’d just have to climb this hill again. Or get Darby Cahill to give him a ride back to his patrol SUV.
He glanced behind the saloon to where he’d seen the headlights blink out. The opportunity to fool with some half-naked teens—or even naked by the time he reached them—was too tempting. Anyway, he’d come this far.
Dropping off the hill, slipping and sliding in the mud and wet grass, he finally reached the side of the saloon. As he started to step around to the back, he saw the limb that had broken off the nearest cottonwood. A nearby window had been boarded up with a sheet of plywood. That, he thought, could be why he couldn’t see the light that had been burning in the back of the saloon.
The thought stopped him for a moment. He looked behind him, not all that sure what he might be stepping into. But it still appeared that the power was out. As he reached the corner of the building, he heard voices coming from a small storage building off to one side in the pines.
“Deputy Cole here!” he called as he snapped on his flashlight. At the sound of his voice, two figures started. He pointed the flashlight at them. Darby Cahill and Mariah Ayers, owner of the motorcycle. He smiled to himself. Damn, she looked good soaked to the skin. “What’s going on?”
“Had to fix a window. A tree limb took it out,” Cahill called, shielding his eyes from the glare of the flashlight.
Harp lowered the flashlight as he moved toward them. “Saw the outside light off. Thought there might be trouble.”
“No power,” Cahill said. “Hadn’t planned on that.”
“Well, glad it’s nothing too serious.” He was anxious to check on the teenagers parked a quarter-mile behind the saloon. “I’ll move on, then.”
“Thanks for stopping,” Cahill said.
“All part of the job.” Harp turned and started back toward his patrol SUV. He thought about driving closer to where he’d seen the vehicle park. But he was already wet, his boots caked with mud, the walk would do him good.
He went only as far as needed to disappear from view of the saloon and then turned north. The rain wasn’t so bad in the dense pines. Vicki kept interrupting his thoughts. What the hell did she want to talk about? Conversation wasn’t her best skill. Neither was waitressing for that matter. He chuckled as he thought of her.
A van seemed to materialize out of the storm only yards ahead of him. With a start, he realized he’d been so lost in his thoughts that he’d almost walked right into it. He slowed to listen. If there was hanky-panky going on inside the van, it wasn’t much. He’d hoped to catch it rockin’.
Crouching down, he began to sneak toward the vehicle. It only had a window in the door, the rest of the back was a panel van. He was almost to the door when he heard a sound. Only it didn’t come from inside. It had come from directly behind him.
* * *
VICKI COULDN’T BELIEVE Harp wasn’t going to show. She stared out the diner window through the pounding rain, her heart in her throat.
“He isn’t coming,” Sue said as she bagged the last of the day’s receipts. “You need a ride home?”
Vicki shook her head, her hand going to her stomach. She’d felt nauseated and had all day.
Sue leaned a hip against the counter. “You told him you needed to talk to him, right?”
Vicki shot a look of surprise at her boss. “How did you—”
“Let me guess. You’re pregnant.”
Her stomach roiled. She swallowed back the lump that rose in her throat and tried to hold down the club soda, the only thing she’d been able to keep down all day.
Sue waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Don’t even bother to deny it.” She shook her head. “I should have foreseen this. Didn’t you use any kind of protection?”
“I can’t take the pill and Harp doesn’t like—”
“I get the picture. Now what are you going to do?”
Vicki looked outside again. It was raining harder than before, lightning flashing, thunder rattling the diner windows. Huge puddles had formed just outside with water running like a river down the street.
“Maybe he can’t make it tonight but he’ll—”
“He isn’t going to marry you, honey. He’s going to break your heart and leave you with a baby to raise by yourself. You picked the wrong guy if you were looking for happy-ever-after. It isn’t Harper Cole.”
The words hurt even though Sue had said them kindly enough.
“I need to close up. Sure I can’t give you a ride?” Sue asked.
Vicki shook her head. “I have my car.” She took off her apron and got her jacket, still looking for Harp’s patrol SUV as she pushed open the door. Water poured off the overhang in a drenching waterfall. She had no choice. She pulled her thin jacket up over her head and made a run for it, splashing through puddles that were almost up to her knees before she reached her car.
Once inside, she sat behind the wheel, shivering. Harp hadn’t shown. But Sue was wrong. He loved her. He hadn’t said as much, but she knew he did. He wouldn’t desert her and their baby. He’d step up, they’d get married, maybe buy a little house. Like Harp always said, one day he would be sheriff and then they’d be on the gravy train.
She reached to put the key into the ignition. Soaking wet and cold and disappointed and scared, she turned the key. The older model car’s engine made a whirring sound. She tried it again. It often did this when it was cold or wet. She told herself that the third time was the charm. It wasn’t. She laid her head on the steering wheel, surprised how quickly she was in tears. The sobs racked her thin body and made her stomach roil again.
At the tap on the window, she jerked upward, thinking it would be Harp’s handsome face looking in.
It was Sue holding an umbrella. She motioned for Vicki to get out and follow her to her car.
* * *
MAGGIE STOOD AT the window, watching the storm. Since the vandalism at her beauty shop, she’d had trouble sleeping. She hadn’t told Flint and since they hadn’t moved in together yet, he didn’t know just how spooked she was.
The problem was that she knew Celeste would strike again. Now she felt as if she was waiting, not sure when or where or how, but knowing the woman wasn’t through with her.
Flint seemed to think that Celeste’s attack on the beauty shop was just a childish tantrum. Maggie knew better. It had been to show her that she could get to her. That time, it had been through a back window that had been pried open. Celeste had made it look enough like kids could have done it, but Maggie hadn’t been fooled.
Neither had Flint. The only station vandalized was hers. Kids would have torn up the whole place. No, Celeste had been sending her a message, one she had gotten loud and clear. It was a warning of what would come if she continued to see Flint.
All Maggie could think about was what would happen if she actually moved in with the sheriff. Flint seemed to think that Celeste would be forced to back off. Maggie scoffed at that as she stared out at the rain. Wind rocked the pines outside her house, sending dark shadows scurrying across her yard.
When she’d come home, she’d locked all the doors and windows and searched the house to make sure Celeste wasn’t hiding in one of the closets. Maggie knew it sounded ludicrous. What woman in her right mind would spend the day hiding in your closet? But she wouldn’t put anything past Celeste.
This morning at the shop, she’d heard that Wayne Duma had flown to Denver on business. That meant that Celeste would be at loose ends. Was the woman afraid of thunderstorms? Maggie could only hope so. The storm at least might keep her in tonight.
Or maybe not. At a sound at the back of the house, Maggie froze.
* * *
DARBY COULD SEE that Mariah was relieved that the deputy had stopped by. When he’d told her that Flint said he’d have a deputy drive by during the night and that they were to leave the front light on as a signal that everything was all right, she’d looked skeptical.
“Rafael will check out the area before he makes his move. He’s...smart. He won’t want to get caught. He’ll be very careful. And very deadly.”
He’d realized that for Mariah, Rafael had become a monster. A monster she feared she couldn’t best. That worried him more for her sake than his own. But once Rafael was caught and jailed, he wouldn’t look so scary. At least that’s what Darby hoped.
“Let’s go up and change. I’ll bolt the door,” he said. He saw her glance toward the plywood over the window as if to say “like that will keep him out.”
As he watched her go upstairs, he picked up the shotgun he’d taken with them when they’d gone out to fix the window. He thought of the other guns hidden around the place. Other than what he’d done so far, he didn’t know what more he could do to protect them from this man.
Knowing Harp was out there had given Mariah a little comfort. Unfortunately Darby knew the deputy. If trouble was coming, he’d much rather have Deputy Christopher Hanson or Undersheriff Mark Ramirez looking out for them. Even better his brother Flint. The thought surprised him a little.
