Riley's Retribution

by Rebecca York

  Of course, Jake had immediately hotfooted it to Courtney’s front door to inform her. He’d had an “I told you so” expression on his face. And it had been all she could do not to kick him out of the house.

  But she forced herself to speak quietly, telling him that they shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

  “You fired that Carson guy when he got drunk in town,” Jake argued.

  “I know. But things are different now. I need a manager.”

  “He’s not reliable.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “He can’t handle his liquor. We damn well know that. He got sloshed—then got into a fight.”

  She nodded. “I want to hear his side of the story.”

  Jake shook his head and walked out.

  Courtney tossed and turned all night, feeling the child inside her kicking and wondering if she’d have to fire Riley Watson in the morning. He’d seemed so competent and so caring. Now she was thinking that he was just another man who was going to let her down.

  In the morning she dressed and drove to Spur City. She parked near the jail, then started to get out of her truck—just as she saw Riley coming out of the building.

  When she saw that the man beside him was Boone Fowler, she gasped.

  The windows were closed against the cold, and there was no way Riley could have heard her. But maybe he recognized her truck, because his eyes were drawn to the driver’s window. When he saw her staring at him, he had the grace to flush. But he never broke his stride. Instead of pulling away from Fowler, he continued down the street with the militia leader.

  And she was left sitting behind the wheel, coping with a terrible sense of betrayal. All she could think was that she’d trusted Riley Watson. She’d let him get close to her. And this was what she got for that trust.

  Fowler had threatened her two days ago. Riley had offered to get some information about the guy. Now here he was strolling down the street with Fowler like they were best friends.

  SOMEHOW RILEY KEPT his composure as he saw the sick look on Courtney’s face. He wanted to break away and stride to the truck. He wanted to tell Courtney this was all a charade. But he couldn’t risk having Fowler see that he cared anything about her.

  So he kept walking, fighting the knot of barbed wire in his gut.

  They headed down the street, with several of Fowler’s men falling into step behind them.

  “How about here?” the militia leader said.

  Riley eyed the bar where he’d made a spectacle of himself the night before. “I need some food in me.”

  “Well, Tim, the guy who owns the bar, is a friend of mine. He’ll fix you some eggs.”

  Riley walked stiffly as they approached the bar.

  It seemed like the militia leader didn’t recognize him. But this could all be an elaborate trick to capture him.

  “Yeah, you were a sight,” Fowler said, acting as though he thought Riley was embarrassed about the night before. Inside, he ambled toward the booth where he’d been sitting the night before, watching the action. Two of Fowler’s men joined them.

  When the barman came over, Fowler asked for a tomato juice and scrambled eggs for his friend.

  The militia leader stared at Riley across the table, and he forced himself to sit calmly, pretending he had never been in this man’s clutches.

  “So why did you get a job with the widow Rogers?” Fowler asked.

  “I needed the money.”

  “There are other ways to earn money.”

  “I know horses.”

  “You been on a lot of ranches?”

  “Yeah,” Riley allowed.

  “I hear you’re getting things straightened out at the Golden Saddle.”

  From whom? Riley wondered. “I hope so.”

  “So why did you cut loose last night?”

  “A guy’s got to let off steam once in a while.”

  Fowler chuckled. “That’s the truth.”

  Riley’s eggs arrived, and he took a bite. They tasted as bad as he’d feared. He chewed and swallowed, then said, “And I didn’t like hearing that jerk defend the war.”

  “Yeah, the war is a damn shame. I was impressed that you stood up for your convictions.”

  “I’m new in town. So I don’t have all the players straight yet. You and your guys are opposed to the fiasco in Lukinburg?”

  “We downright hate it that America can’t keep its nose out of a foreign squabble. We’re dedicated to doing what we can to get us out of there.”

  “Like—what can you do?”

  Fowler glanced around as though spies had their ears pressed to every wall of the seedy bar. “I don’t want to talk about that here.”

  “Are you sure you want to talk about it with him at all?” one of the men asked.

  “Why not?” Fowler growled.

  The man shrugged. “We got enough guys in our unit now.”

  Riley tensed, wondering what would happen now.

  Fowler glared at the man. “Are you questioning my judgment, Anderson?”

  The man shifted in his seat. “No, sir.”

  “That’s good. Because what I say goes.”

  The other man looked down at his hands, but not before Riley caught the anger on his face.

  Fowler turned back to the would-be new recruit. “If you want to join my group, we can give it a shot.”

  “You mean—move out there with you?”

  “No. I was thinkin’ that you should stay at the ranch…for now so Ms. Rogers can keep giving you a paycheck.”

  “Good idea,” Riley said, hoping his relief didn’t show. He wanted information about the militia group, but he didn’t want to leave the ranch. Courtney needed to be protected.

  “If I need to contact you, can you tell me where your compound is?” Riley asked.

  “Sure.” Fowler drew him a crude map, showing a turnoff to the militia compound several miles up the road from the main ranch entrance.

  “Appreciate it,” Riley said.

  “I’ll be in touch,” the militia leader answered.

  Riley wanted to press for something more definite. He wanted to inquire about Fowler’s financial backers. Unless the man had robbed a bank, somebody was fronting him a sizable amount of cash. But he didn’t want to seem like he was probing for information. So he only said, “I hope you don’t wait too long.”

  “We know where to find you.”

  “What if Ms. Rogers fires me?”

  “I’m sure you can talk your way around a woman like her.”

  The snide way he said it and the smirk on his face made Riley want to sock him. But he kept his temper and chuckled. “Yeah. I’m not too shabby with the ladies.”

  “Well, take a shower before you do any sweet-talkin’. You smell like you’ve been in a jail cell all night—after rolling around on a barroom floor.”

  “I’ll wash the stench off,” he said good-naturedly. He left a few minutes later without finishing his breakfast, feeling like he’d jumped a mountain-size hurdle. It looked like he’d gained Fowler’s confidence. But he wasn’t going to count on anything. Not yet.

  On the way out of town, he saw one of the militia men talking to the general store owner. Another was at the gas station, zipping into line ahead of another customer. Nobody objected, which made Riley wonder again how much power Boone Fowler had in town. Were people afraid of him? Or were they on his side?

  COURTNEY MIGHT HAVE TURNED around and gone straight home. But she didn’t want to hear Jake say, “I told you so.” Besides, now that she was in town, she might as well check on the order of oats that was supposed to come in.

  She was still sick from seeing Riley with Fowler. But she tried to put him out of her mind as she drove to the general store. Another truck was in back of her all the way to the store. Was someone snooping into her business?

  When she slowed, the driver sped around her. She couldn’t see his face, because his hat was pulled low. And when she tried to read his license plate, she fo
und it was smeared with mud.

  All at once, she thought of the guy up on the bridge, and she felt her throat close.

  Pulling up at the general store, she sat behind the wheel, breathing hard, telling herself that nothing had really happened. But she didn’t honestly believe that.

  Finally, with a sigh, she got out of the truck and almost bumped into Joan Craig, the woman who had been hired to run the battered-women’s shelter.

  “Courtney, how are you?” Joan asked, her voice full of concern.

  “Good,” Courtney managed, hoping she sounded convincing.

  Joan nodded, then went on to a topic Courtney didn’t want to discuss. “I hear your ranch manager got into some trouble last night.”

  “Um,” Courtney answered. Joan was one of the people in town who was still friendly. But that didn’t mean she wanted to talk to her about Riley Watson.

  The other woman picked up on her mood and immediately switched topics. “Are you going to the opening of the shelter?” she asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” Courtney answered sincerely.

  She hadn’t attended a social event since before Edward had died. But she’d been a big supporter of the battered-women’s shelter, because she understood that a woman who had been abused needed all the help she could get. Including a safe environment in which to heal while she figured out where she went next with her life.

  Joan beamed and lowered her voice. “We’re having a distinguished visitor at our ribbon cutting.”

  “Who?”

  The other woman’s eyes twinkled. “I’m not at liberty to tell. For security reasons.”

  “Oh,” Courtney answered, her mind grappling with that. “Security reasons—in Spur City.”

  “Oh my, yes. But I can say you won’t be disappointed if you come. It’s someone we’re all interested in hearing.”

  “The prince?” Courtney pressed. Crown Prince Nikolai of Lukinburg had been in Montana giving a speech recently. And he had another one scheduled soon. Maybe he was willing to extend his stay a few days so he could lend his prestige to the center’s opening. She knew he wanted to free his people. Perhaps his interest in social causes didn’t stop with the borders of his country.

  Joan just gave her a mysterious smile and repeated that she wasn’t at liberty to give out details.

  The women chatted for a few minutes. Then Joan said she had to get back to work, and Courtney went to check on her order.

  She also stopped at the grocery store, looking behind her several times because she thought she saw the same truck. But when she headed out of town, no one seemed to be following her, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Then, ten miles past the city limits, she saw a vehicle in her rearview mirror coming up fast. He must have been following at a distance, because he knew where she was going. And now he was making his move.

  Damn, it was him. And she couldn’t hold back the dread that rose in her throat. Gritting her teeth, she got her gun from the glove compartment and laid it on the passenger seat. Then she sped up, making for the hills and a stand of rocks where she and some of the other kids in town had hung out as teenagers.

  Driving faster than she should, she took several turns at dangerous speed until a hill hid her from the guy on her tail.

  When she came to the rocks, she pulled off the road, knowing that the boulders would shield her in both directions—up and down the road.

  Sitting with the engine running, she took the gun in her hand and waited to find out if the guy had fallen for her trick.

  Chapter Ten

  Courtney couldn’t see the road, but she heard the pickup roar past. She was sure that the driver was bent on catching up with her.

  She shivered and slumped down in her seat, so that her head was barely visible above the windows.

  Hopefully the driver wouldn’t realize he’d lost her until much later. She waited fifteen heart-pounding minutes. Then she pulled cautiously onto the road.

  It was clear, and she made a run for the ranch, praying that she wouldn’t see the guy again.

  When she was almost home free, he came at her once more, this time roaring down the road in the other direction. But she turned quickly onto the ranch road, then drove onto the hard-packed ground beside it, figuring she could make better time if she stayed off the bumpy surface of the driveway itself.

  The guy hesitated at the entrance to the ranch. To her everlasting relief, Kelly came galloping toward her. The guy in the truck apparently decided to cut his losses and turned around and roared back toward town.

  Kelly pulled alongside her.

  “What are you doing down here?” she asked her hand, hearing the strain in her own voice.

  “We were waiting to find out what happened. Where’s Riley?”

  “I don’t know,” she snapped, wishing that her men weren’t keeping up with the situation. But what could she expect? “There’s feed in the back. I’ll meet you at the barn.”

  After the supplies were unloaded, she drove across to the house and carried the groceries in, thinking that she should have taken Riley’s advice and stayed home.

  She wanted to tell him about the man who had followed her. Then she reminded herself she didn’t even know if he planned to stay here.

  WELL BEFORE HE REACHED the ranch, Riley pulled up at the side of the highway and dug out the special cell phone that connected him to Big Sky. The sheriff had taken it away from him the night before—but he’d returned everything in the morning. And he hadn’t checked out the instrument.

  Riley called the office, and the colonel answered on the first ring. Apparently he’d been waiting for his man in Spur City to check in.

  “Did the scene in the bar go as planned?” he asked.

  “Basically,” Riley answered. “But I didn’t much like spending the night in jail.”

  “I can believe that,” Murphy said with feeling. He waited a beat before asking, “So…you impress Boone Fowler?”

  “I think so.”

  “You don’t sound too pleased.”

  “I’m sure Stan Lewis isn’t too pleased, either,” Riley growled.

  “I take it the two of you let off some steam?”

  “You could say that. Or you could say he earned his fee—the hard way.”

  Murphy laughed, then got back on message. “What did Fowler have to say?”

  “He liked my stand on the war. And he acted friendly. I assume he wants to test me with some assignment before he invites me out to his compound.”

  “And you’re sure he didn’t recognize you?” the colonel pressed.

  Riley dragged in a breath and let it out. “As sure as I can be. Of course, he could be stringing me along, but we’ll see.” He got out the map that Fowler had given him. “The road to the militia camp is only a couple miles up the highway from the ranch entrance. Maybe you’d better keep it under surveillance.”

  “Will do. And we’ll see if Fowler or his men are meeting with anyone in town. You did good work.”

  “Thanks,” Riley muttered.

  “I know this isn’t easy for you. It wouldn’t be for me, either.”

  “I’ll handle it,” Riley clipped out, wondering if Courtney was going to fire him when he got back to the ranch. “Do me one favor, though. Check up on her ranch hand named Jake Bradley. I want to know if there’s anything suspicious about him.”

  He ended the transmission, then continued up the road. He realized he was going slower and slower to postpone the moment of his arrival. With a curse, he sped up.

  WHEN COURTNEY HEARD the sound of a vehicle, she looked out to see Riley’s SUV pulling up in front of the bunkhouse.

  He got out and went inside. And she waited tensely to see if he’d come out again with his gear.

  When he didn’t, she thought she should go over there and tell him he was fired.

  But she couldn’t make herself follow through. Much as she hated to admit it, she needed him.

  Still, she didn’t want to ha
ve anything to do with him at the moment. So she stayed inside. First she put away the groceries. Then she walked around the house, checking to see if anyone had been here while she was gone.

  She didn’t think so. But she didn’t like the feeling of needing to look for booby traps in her own home.

  WHEN RILEY STEPPED into the bunkhouse, Billy was the only guy inside. He looked up in surprise. “What are you doing here?” he said stupidly.

  “Getting back to work. After I wash off the jailhouse stench.”

  “You look like you went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.”

  “Thanks.”

  The other man gave him a considering look. “You lose your cool like that often?”

  “Not often. That should do me for a few months,” he said over his shoulder as he headed for his room, where he shucked his dirty clothes and kicked them into a corner, then headed for the shower.

  In the mirror he inspected his face. One eye was black, and his lip was a little swollen. But he had all his teeth.

  He was back on the job a half hour later. But he felt like he was walking around on a bed of ground glass. If he tipped one way or the other, he was going to fall and cut the hell out of himself. Which was too bad, since he was already in a fair amount of pain from the blows Stan Lewis had landed on his face and body.

  He kept thinking that Courtney was going to come marching out of the house and tell him to collect his first and last paycheck and leave. But she stayed away.

  Kelly caught up with him as he stepped into the barn.

  “Problem?” he asked.

  “Buttercup is acting restless.”

  “She’s due to foal soon?”

  “Uh-huh. She came into season early.”

  “Sometimes it happens that way.” Riley walked over to her stall, talking to the chestnut-colored horse soothingly as he examined her teats. Not all horses leaked milk. But he saw colostrum—which was a good indication that she was close to delivery.

  “Tell the other men. And we’ll check on her every hour.”

  “She’s likely to wait until tonight…when she’s alone,” Kelly pointed out.