Canyon Shadows

by Vonna Harper

Age had rounded Ona’s contours. She was no longer the lean and agile mutt she’d once been. Just the same, remnants of that earlier physical ability came through in the way Ona half walked and half slunk into the living room. Shari kept the beam moving ahead of the dog. She was following in Ona’s wake when it occurred to her that there was no reason to put her nerves through this. Shaking her head at her stupidity, she reached out and flipped the wall light switch.

  All three lamps came to life. She squinted, cursing under her breath as she waited for her eyes to adjust. If Ona was having trouble seeing, she gave no indication as she started running. She nearly rammed her nose into the front wall where the largest window was. Started growling again.

  Outside, a single bark exploded into countless canine voices coming from both the large boarding kennel and the smaller one holding Bruce, Tucker, and the other guard dogs.

  Propelled by something she refused to put a name to, Shari sprinted to the window and touched it. It was closed, thank God! But if anything, Ona’s growling had increased in volume. Her so-called neighbors must be wondering what the hell was going on.

  So did she.

  As she often did, she’d left her shoes by the front door. Now she slipped into them. Her heart in overdrive again, she started to unlock the door, only to reconsider. Not giving herself time to change her mind, she hurried into the kitchen and took her largest knife out of the drawer. Holding it down by her side where hopefully it wouldn’t inflict damage if she stumbled, she went into the bathroom and peed and wiped without setting down her weapon. Then she entered her bedroom again. After placing the knife on her bed, she slipped into a sweatshirt. Next came her cell phone, which she gripped with her left hand. An instant later, her right again held the knife.

  A knife. A gun. Deadly weapons pitted against each other. The gun exploding, battle won. Blood flowing. Tortured breathing. A child screaming.

  Horrified because the past had returned to throw its nightmare at her, she clenched her teeth. She wouldn’t go there!

  Didn’t dare.

  “I don’t want you to be part of this,” she told Ona in a shaky voice as she again approached the door. “I want you safe, but I need your ears, eyes, and nose.”

  She flipped a switch that triggered both her front porch light and the ones at the kennels. As she knew would happen, the sudden light again set the dogs off.

  “Good,” she muttered as she and Ona stepped outside. “Only an idiot will stay around with all that noise.”

  Accompanied by the older mutt, she’d made the short walk to the kennels countless times, but it had never taken this long. Her primary responsibility was to the boarded dogs, yet instead of heading for the larger kennel, she went to the other one. Every step seemed to take forever. She kept looking left, right, and behind her. Felt like a sitting duck.

  “It’s me,” she told the guard dogs when she was nearly there. “Calm down, you characters.” Thank goodness Uncle Dan had convinced her to have high intensity lights installed. It was nearly as bright as daylight—she just wouldn’t let her attention linger on the shadows beyond. And she wouldn’t panic. She couldn’t.

  Her right hand threatened to cramp, forcing her to relax her hold on the knife. It was a poor excuse for a weapon, a joke in comparison to Maco’s pistol. Damn it, she’d had years in which to get past her gun hang-up. Time to act like a grown-up.

  No longer a child watching helplessly as a monster murdered her father.

  No! Damn, damn it, no!

  Every one of the five in-training dogs had its own space, but fortunately this bunch got along so well that she didn’t have to close them in when she wasn’t around. The five had turned the kennel into a doggy slumber party, and she never knew which space would be occupied by sleeping bodies every morning.

  Tonight, however, Bruce, Tucker, and the other three were at the door eager to be let out. Instead of giving them their freedom, however, she tucked the cell phone under her armpit, opened the door, and squeezed in. She never kept it completely dark in here, opting for strategically placed night-lights. Maybe she should have turned on the overhead light, but somehow darker seemed safer.

  “You guys all right?”

  Placing the hand holding the knife behind her, she let the dogs sniff the cell phone and tried not to think about whether calling 911 would get help here in time.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she told them. “I’m going to let you out. I want you to give the place the once-over, but if you see anything that shouldn’t be here—”

  Was she doing the right thing? Maybe letting the dogs run would place them in danger. But that was exactly why she’d trained them the way she had, so they were prepared to deal with danger.

  Maco, if something happens to Bruce or Tucker, I hope you forgive me.

  “Make me proud of you, all right,” she announced and kicked the door open with her foot.

  Tucker reached the opening first. He paused for maybe two seconds while the others lined up behind him. Then, growling, he bounded out. The rest charged after him. Feeling abandoned, Shari pressed her back against the outer wall and watched as the beautiful Dobermans spread out.

  “You’d be proud of them,” she muttered to her mental image of Maco.

  A half hour later she was still proud. And unnerved, thanks to what the dogs had done. No way was she going to get any more sleep.

  Something was off with Shari; Maco was 99 percent certain of it. She’d answered before her cell phone could ring a second time, and she’d sounded, not breathless exactly, but not calm either. He’d called shortly after he’d gotten up so he could set a time for him to arrive. Although he’d thought she might be too busy to see him until Rachele arrived, she’d told him to come as soon as he could.

  He had. It was now a little after nine, which was hardly early by his standards, but early given what he’d had to accomplish before being able to leave the dam site. When he’d told Jason where he was going and why, his brother had reminded him that the county commissioners were set to arrive around noon. As the older brother, Maco was accustomed to taking the lead in such matters. This time, however, he’d maintained that seeing Shari Afton—and learning how to be a responsible guard dog owner—was more important than taking some commissioners on a tour, which Jason could do.

  “You’re making her a priority because you can’t stop thinking about what Paul told you, aren’t you,” his brother had said, “about the Greenspeakers’ techniques.”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “So, if you were a betting man, who do you think will give us the most trouble, ranchers fighting for their water rights or a bunch of tree huggers?”

  “They’re terrorists, not environmentalists.”

  “Terrorists.” Jason sobered. “My money’s on them. They don’t care who they hurt as long as they make their point.”

  Maco was replaying the Homeland Security agent’s warning, what Roe and his fellow ranchers had said, and his conversation with Jason as he drove on to Shari’s property. He’d debated leaving his Colt behind so she wouldn’t think of him as some armed cowpoke, but its weight on his hip felt right. To his surprise, several dogs, all Dobermans, were running loose. The regal-looking animals started sounding off, their voices merging into something capable of waking the dead. Were they always this high-strung?

  Yesterday he’d tried to warn Shari to be careful but had pulled back from spelling out the reasons. Today he’d have to be up front about everything. And if she wanted nothing to do with him after learning he might have inadvertently placed her in danger, he’d have to live with it.

  Before that, however, he’d study the woman who’d kept him awake for most of the night.

  Only that.

  Spotting her standing in the open training kennel door, he wondered how long she’d been watching him. He’d again driven his Jeep, so she had to know it was him from the moment the rig came into view. Why then wasn’t she walking over to greet him?

  Ona and the dogs,
Bruce and Tucker included, started running in circles around the Jeep, forcing him to travel at a crawl. It pleased him to realize he could identify the two that might go home with him today. Then, almost as soon as the thought surfaced, he acknowledged that would leave her with two fewer guardians.

  Maybe he should insist she keep them with her.

  Maybe he needed to clear his head.

  He’d killed the engine and gotten out before she headed his way. Waiting, he patted random heads and backs, but his attention remained on her. Today she wore a sleeveless shirt that buttoned down the front and denim shorts maybe two inches shy of being immodest. Her legs were taut and tanned. Was she deliberately showing that much skin for his benefit?

  Right. According to the weather report, the temperature might reach 90.

  “Quite the welcoming committee,” he observed when they were close enough to carry on a conversation. Much as he wanted to shake her hand—and hold on to it as long as she’d let him—several wet tongues had slathered his fingers. He started to wipe them on his jeans but stopped because he didn’t want anything getting close to his cock. So far it was behaving itself, but he didn’t trust it. “When I was here before, they weren’t running loose. Is this exercise time?”

  Instead of answering, she stared at him with her legs slightly spread, her hands fisted, and her head back. She wasn’t just taking the measure of him, she was probing beneath the surface and looking for something he couldn’t grasp. Sexual energy arched between them; he’d bet everything he had invested in Mustang Construction on that. Just the same, she was reaching beyond and beneath the obvious.

  Damn but he wanted to have sex with her.

  “What?” he asked.

  After a moment she nodded. She wasn’t moving. It was as if she was guarding herself against something, but what? “I let the guard dogs out again this morning because I wanted them to check things out.”

  “Again? What things?”

  “The property.”

  “Why?”

  “Because of what happened last night.” Before he could probe for more, she told him that something had caused the dogs to sound off during the night. “Ona was the first. She’d been sleeping on the floor next to me. Maybe her growls alerted the others; their hearing amazes me.”

  “Wait,” he said around the fist gripping his heart. “You had an intruder?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, her voice low and hands still clenched.

  “Okay. Okay.” Struggling to concentrate despite the concern chilling him, he lifted his hat and raked his fingers through his hair. Had she walked outside with nothing more than her nails as defense? “Ona sounded the alarm, which means—hell, which means that whoever was here had gotten close to the house. Maybe was in it.”

  “No.” Her tone remained low and somber and yet he sensed her effort to keep it that way. “When Ona and I left the bedroom, she didn’t go tearing around poking in the other rooms. Instead, she went right to the front window. That’s when she really started growling.”

  “Shit. Tell me you called nine one one?”

  She shook her head. When he started to ask why not, she held up a hand he longed to squeeze. Hell, he’d give a great deal to have those unadorned fingers around his cock. Maybe they’d gallop off into the sunset together followed by camping out in the wilderness where—

  “I have a kennel full of guard dogs,” she said as his cock twitched. “I told myself it didn’t make sense to call a cop clear out here because I’d let myself get spooked.”

  This wouldn’t have happened if you’d brought Bruce and Tucker inside, he came close to throwing at her. Because he knew better than to step on that land mine, he didn’t.

  “Did the dogs hit on anything?”

  “Yes. Both last night and this morning.”

  That was too much, the explanation he didn’t want to hear. Before he had half a chance to try to stop himself, he’d eaten up the distance between them and grabbed her hands. He was vaguely aware that he held her too tight but couldn’t make himself let up. Despite her muscled arms and legs, she was a small woman with narrow hands. He felt as if he towered over her.

  “Tell me,” he ordered with his eyes locked on hers and his knees brushing her legs and the dogs watching.

  “Like last night, the, ah, excitement started with Ona. The moment I let her out this morning, she went around to the front window.”

  “Damn.”

  “She sniffed at it for a long time and then circled the house. She stopped at all the windows.”

  Someone had stood outside in the dark staring in at her, maybe watching her sleep. If he ever got his hands on the bastard, he’d kill him. “Please tell me you called the cops this morning.”

  To his relief, she nodded. “They’re going to send someone out when they can, but you know as well as I do it won’t do any good. I didn’t see any footprints.”

  Because the bastard was gone and the dogs’ paws had obliterated the evidence. Because whoever he was, he’d accomplished what he’d come here for. “What about these guys?” Still holding her warm, dry hands, he nodded at the Dobermans. “Did they act the way Ona did?”

  “Their hits were even stronger because they’re trained to—”

  “Trained? They slept while whoever it was snuck up on you.”

  She shivered, then tried to cover it up by shrugging and shaking her head. “They were in their kennel. I had some noise baffling put in there for the neighbors’ sake.”

  She wouldn’t lock the dogs up again. Whatever it took, he’d make sure of that. In the meantime, he’d face what had happened here last night and his inadvertent role in it.

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “Not so you’d notice.”

  A flippant comment to mask the long, nerve-racking hours spent alone. “I need to tell you something,” he said.

  When she gave no indication she’d heard, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. She felt even smaller with her sun-warmed skin sending primitive messages to his core. She smelled like soap and shampoo with a faint rose scent mixed in. He wasn’t sure but didn’t think she’d put on makeup, and her clothes, despite his reaction to the skin they didn’t cover, were practical and well used. Hell no, she hadn’t thought about seducing him. She’d had a lot more important things on her mind.

  He needed to protect her.

  “Maco?”

  “What?” His name coming from her throat sent electricity shooting through him. His cock took even more notice. Much more and he couldn’t hide the evidence from her.

  “We, ah, you need a lesson with the dogs.”

  “To hell with that.” To keep from bracketing his legs around hers and tipping things over a dangerous edge, he pushed her back but didn’t let go. Had her life been in danger last night? Or was the bastard stalking her? “I just said there’s something you need to know.”

  “About?”

  “Some things I learned yesterday after you left.”

  9

  They wound up sitting on her front porch with the lawn chairs turned so they faced each other. Shari couldn’t remember whether the chair placement had been her idea or his and had no recollection of which of them had taken the first step toward the house. Her hand remembered his strength from when they’d walked hand in hand from his vehicle to the porch, which was in need of sanding and staining.

  Her porch didn’t matter. Neither did her response to his presence, not that she’d been able to convince her body.

  Like before, Maco wore jeans and his narrow-toed boots. Today’s shirt was a cream color with spread collar, yokes, and pearl snaps like before, but he’d rolled up his sleeves probably in deference to the greater heat. It was open at the throat and part way down his chest. She couldn’t get her mind off the fantasy of finishing the job. When he leaned forward with his hands on his thighs and his knees nearly touching hers, she was certain she’d feel his breath if he exhaled forcefully enough. Hopefully he wou
ldn’t, because she wasn’t sure she could handle it.

  Wasn’t sure? What was she thinking? No doubt about it, she’d explode if his breath caressed her skin.

  So this was how she reacted to the possibility of danger now that she was an adult. She got horny.

  But maybe only Maco Durant could do that to her.

  Except for Ona, who’d sprawled out at her feet, the other dogs were resting in the shade of her apple tree. To the casual observer, the scene would appear relaxed and comfortable, two friends discussing the weather.

  Except she knew almost nothing about where he’d come from and why he’d become what he was.

  “I should have told you who I was expecting yesterday,” he began. “Because it turned out that it involves you.”

  “In what way?”

  His deep and quiet voice slipped like silk over her, making concentrating on the words all but impossible.

  “Paul Statford worked for the Forest Service most of his career. A year or so after he retired, Homeland Security offered him a consultant position.”

  Maco was stalling. She had no choice but to wait for him to get to the point.

  “That’s what he’s doing these days. Dams are of particular concern for the agency because of the catastrophic consequences if terrorists succeed.”

  “Flooding, you mean?”

  “Mainly that.”

  “But the Graves River Dam isn’t built yet. What—?” As the pieces fell together, she clamped her hand over her mouth and spoke around it. “Your machinery and the building material that’s already there is worth millions of dollars?”

  He nodded, his eyes aging as he did. “Members of Greenspeakers—have you heard of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anyway, they don’t consider themselves anti-establishment, as long as the powers-that-be agree with them. They insist on calling themselves environmentalists, albeit extreme. And sometimes radical.”

  “Maco, I’m well aware that the dogs I train could be placed in dangerous situations. That they could lose their lives.”

  His nod said he was grateful to her for bringing that up. “I wish that wasn’t a possibility.”