by Rebecca York
BENDING TO THE WINDOW, Courtney peered into a sea of white. Another storm. Just when she didn’t need one.
But there was more to worry about than the snowstorm. Since Riley had left, she’d been thinking about him and his friends from the bounty hunter organization. They had come here chasing down Boone Fowler. Then he’d told her the other terrorists were responsible for the death of Fowler and his men.
Were the terrorists still hanging around Spur City? If so, they were probably angry Riley and his friends had messed up their plans. Would they go after them?
Was Riley in danger?
Under ordinary circumstances, she’d call the sheriff’s office. But Riley had told her Pennington was working with the militia. He could be in bed with the terrorists, too.
Her only option was to call Riley’s cell phone—and hope he didn’t think she was acting like a hysterical female.
With the number in one hand, she picked up the telephone receiver. If she was wrong about him being in danger, there was no harm done.
Her thoughts were racing, and she stood there holding the receiver for several seconds before she realized there was no dial tone. Had the storm knocked out the phone lines?
She walked into the living room to confer with Jake, but he wasn’t there. He might have been in the bathroom, but his coat was also gone. And when she opened the front door, she saw a line of footsteps in the snow leading toward the access road.
Her brow wrinkled. What was he doing down there? Had he spotted some kind of trouble and gone to deal with it?
Unable to suppress a spurt of panic, she pulled on her coat and stepped outside, then hesitated for a moment. Her first impulse was to go after Jake. But if he’d walked into trouble, following was exactly the wrong thing to do. So she headed for the barn—where she found Billy and Kelly feeding the horses.
Her look of alarm must have given both of them the wrong idea.
“What is it?” Billy asked in a sharp voice. “Is the baby coming? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
The classic male reaction made her laugh. “No. Not that,” she hastened to assure him. “Do you know where Jake went?”
“He doesn’t usually tell us what he’s doing,” Billy said.
The strained note in his voice alerted her that something wasn’t quite right. “Is that often a problem?” she asked.
Billy shrugged. “He has been disappearing a lot lately.”
She looked from one man to the other. “If you were having a problem with him, you should have informed me,” she said, hoping her frayed nerves hadn’t made her tone too harsh.
Kelly looked down at his hands. “Yeah, well, he’s been here a lot longer than we have. We figured that he had—you know—privileges.”
She thought that over, then said, “Get your guns. Then come back to the house with me.”
She saw Billy’s Adam’s apple bob. “You expecting trouble?”
She looked down the access road where Jake had taken off, wondering what he could be doing. “I hope not,” she said, trying to sound like she wasn’t falling apart. “But I think we’d better be prepared.”
A few minutes after they were all in the house, she heard a noise outside.
Easing the blinds aside, she saw that an SUV had pulled up in the driveway. Her heart leaped when she thought it might be Riley. Still, instead of rushing toward the door, she waited a beat.
And she was glad she’d hesitated, because the scene before her eyes had her mind spinning in confusion.
Instead of Riley, Jake climbed out of the car and gestured toward the house as he stood talking to a man she didn’t know.
Apparently, her trusted hand had gone down the road to meet a stranger. No, make that strangers.
More than one man had climbed out of the vehicle.
As she watched in dismay, they pulled out guns and started walking toward the house. They must be pretty confident that they had the situation under complete control.
Moving faster than she would have thought possible, she ducked away from the window and reached for the gun she kept in the drawer near the front door.
“Get down,” she shouted to the two men who stood in the living room. “Before the shooting starts.”
“What?” Billy asked stupidly, just as a bullet crashed into the front door.
She knew that in those old cowboy movies the actors broke out the window glass with the butts of their guns before they took a shot at anyone. But that wasn’t necessary. The bullet she fired did the job very nicely.
She didn’t know exactly why they were under attack. But she was gratified to see the men outside scatter.
“What’s going on?” Kelly shouted.
“The bad guys showed up in the yard.”
“I thought they were dead,” Billy answered.
“Guess not.” As she spoke, more shots crashed through another window. Thank the Lord for the stone construction. If the house had been wood, the slugs would come right through.
Feeling completely clearheaded, she shouted at Kelly and Billy, “Keep shooting. Make sure they can’t get close. And turn off the lights. I’m going to get more weapons.”
The men inside and the ones outside exchanged gunfire through the windows, while she managed to crawl into the den, where the locked gun cabinet was located.
She’d never thought she’d be caught in the middle of a pitched battle like this. But her father had always insisted that they should be prepared to defend themselves.
The battle raged at the front of the house while she unlocked the cabinet in the dark and got out revolvers and rifles. From the sound of the fire coming from outside, she could tell that the invaders had assault weapons. Too bad; she and her hands were no match for them. But she wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
A terrible thought crossed her mind, and she went still. Were these guys just after her? What if Kelly and Billy came out with their hands up? Would that save their lives? It was a good theory, but she didn’t think it held water—not when her men could act as witnesses. So, even if they’d been caught in the middle of this by accident, she didn’t give them any better chance if they tried to defect.
But how long could they hold out against an assault team? And what if someone tried to sneak around the back? Or worse—what if this ended up like the battered-women’s shelter? What if someone tossed a Molotov cocktail through the window?
She made her way back to the living room as quickly as she could and handed out additional weapons and shells. “Billy,” she directed, “go around to the back of the house. Don’t shoot unless you see someone sneaking up on us.”
He looked terrified, but she couldn’t afford to have him stop functioning. “Go on,” she ordered in a brisk voice. “Hurry up, before they get the drop on us.”
To her vast relief, he did as she asked.
To make it look like there were still three people in the living room, she picked up another gun and began firing with her left hand as well as her right—silently thanking her father for making sure that she was almost as good a shot with either hand.
Another volley of bullets came from the front of the house, and Kelly gasped.
“You’re hit,” she breathed.
“Just my left arm. I can still shoot,” he gasped out.
She didn’t tell him to quit, but she knew that the home team wasn’t going to last much longer.
Would the men out there have mercy on a pregnant woman?
She sincerely doubted it—not when they’d invaded her ranch with guns blazing.
Flattening herself against the wall, she risked a look out the window.
Shadowy figures moved through the snow, and she thought they were getting ready to rush the place.
Just then, she saw another SUV speed up the drive and skid to a halt in the snow.
Her heart leaped into her throat as more men poured out, and she figured the bad guys had called for reinforcements.
Then she saw Riley and felt he
r chest clench.
From the way the SUV had been moving at top speed, she figured he must have known something was up—and he’d come straight to her rescue.
“Riley, no!” she screamed, even when she knew he couldn’t hear her.
But the attackers had reacted to the situation. Whirling, they started shooting at the newcomers—who returned fire.
She saw one of the invaders go down, then another. But she also saw one of Riley’s friends fall to the ground.
Lord, no!
Still, it appeared that the good guys were winning. As she watched and listened, the shots were fewer and further between.
She breathed out a sigh of relief, then heard someone groan. Whirling, she saw Billy slip to the floor. He wasn’t shot. He’d been knocked unconscious by a stranger—who had quietly sneaked up on them.
The man straightened, the gun pointed at her. Before he could fire, she pulled the trigger of one six-shooter, then the other, as she dodged behind an overstuffed chair.
He looked shocked as he wavered on his feet. When his gun discharged, she shot again, then again, watching with strange detachment as he hit the rug.
The front door burst open, and footsteps pounded down the hall. Riley materialized in the living room, weapon in hand, looking wildly around as he took in the situation.
Moving toward her at a dead run, he gasped out, “Courtney, are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Stay down. There may be others in here.”
She did as he asked, and he ran down the hall toward the back door. She wanted to follow, but she waited with her heart pounding for him to reappear.
To her vast relief, he was back in under a minute. “All clear.”
Kelly was sitting on the couch, looking dazed. Billy sat up and put his hand to his head.
Three more men came in. One knelt beside Billy. One went down the hall where the intruder had broken in. The third went to Kelly, tore his shirt away and tied a bandage around his arm.
Courtney was still lying on the floor behind the chair—with a gun in each hand.
“You can put those down now,” Riley said as he moved away from Kelly.
“Oh—right.” Feeling dazed and disoriented, she set down the weapons, and he did the same.
“Lord, I thought I was going to be too late,” he said as he helped her up and took her in his arms. “But you held them off.”
“We couldn’t have done it for much longer,” she answered as she allowed him to take her out of the living room and down the hall to the office.
“How did you know to bring the cavalry?” she asked.
“You gave me the clue I needed—with that comment about the prince’s grammar. He was using his speeches to give orders—to Fowler and the other terrorists.”
“But why? I thought he was against the war.”
“And for it, too! The latest order he gave was to kill you.”
She blinked. “Me? Why me?”
“It seems he considered you a loose end. Maybe because Fowler was renting from you, and he didn’t want you talking about it. If that theory is correct, perhaps he was afraid that Fowler might have inadvertently dropped a clue about their unholy alliance. We’ll never know for sure.”
She made a strangled sound. All this time, she’d been thinking about the prince, admiring him. It had never occurred to her that he might have been aware of her, too—the owner of a small ranch in Montana. He’d thought she’d known too much and wanted her out of the way. The realization made her feel dizzy. When she wavered on her feet, Riley eased her onto the sofa across from the desk.
“It’s okay. It’s all over,” he murmured as he turned her in his arms and held her.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“I think so. Thanks to you and your friends.”
“We came as soon as I knew the prince’s orders.”
Before they could say anything else, she heard a throat-clearing noise from the other side of the room. It was Billy. “Sorry. He got the drop on me.”
“It worked out,” Riley answered.
“What about Jake?” she asked. She looked down at her hands, then back at Riley. “I figured out he was working with them. Too bad I didn’t realize earlier why he was so hostile to you.”
“Neither one of us got it! He was acting like he was protecting you—when really he wanted me out of the way so he could operate without interference.”
“Why?” she asked in a strangled voice. “Why would he turn against me?”
“He was wounded on the ground and called me over. He said he’d been here for years. And you passed him up for ranch manager. He was angry about that. Then the terrorists offered him a lot of money to keep an eye on you. It started small. Nichols would come over from the militia camp at night and Jake would give a report. But they asked more and more of him, and he didn’t know how to get out of it. He couldn’t tell you, and he couldn’t go to the sheriff.”
“How do you know all that?” Billy asked from the doorway.
“He knew he was dying, and he wanted to explain to Mrs. Rogers. The last thing he said was that he wanted her to know he wasn’t in on the shooting tonight.” He stopped and swallowed, looking from her to Billy and back again. “I’m sorry. He’s dead.” His next words were for Billy. “You go on back to the living room and sit down.” The young man complied.
Emotions warred inside Courtney, but she held her voice steady as she said, “You don’t have to be sorry. Not when he sold me out. Not when he told the terrorists I was alone and defenseless.”
“I don’t think he knew what was going to happen.”
“Stop defending him.” Her words had been harsh, but she found she couldn’t be detached. Not when Jake had been with her for so long. “Did…did he say anything else before he died?”
“He said to tell you he was sorry.”
She nodded, then asked, “Did he cut the phone wires?”
“I assume so. I tried to call you, and I couldn’t get through. Who were you trying to call when you found out the phone had gone dead?”
“You. I realized you and Big Sky could be in jeopardy. And I wanted to…to make sure you were all right.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and she tensed. A tall man with a hard-looking face and jet-black hair cut military short came into the office. She could see from the look he exchanged with Riley that they were working together.
“We have the area outside secured. Is Ms. Rogers okay?” he asked.
“Yes. We got here in time.” He inclined his head toward her. “Courtney Rogers, this is Colonel Cameron Murphy.”
“I’m pleased to meet you. It seems I owe you a debt of gratitude,” she said.
“As soon as Watson knew you were in danger, he went berserk.”
“I wouldn’t put it that way!” Riley objected.
“Well, you got us on the road with lightning speed,” Murphy answered.
She looked at Riley. “Thank you.”
He clenched his fists. “I should have stayed to make sure you were safe.”
“Then you wouldn’t have known about the code in the prince’s speeches,” the other man reminded him.
The sound of more vehicles arriving in the ranch yard made Courtney’s chest go tight.
When the men turned toward the front of the house, she asked, “Who is that?”
“It should be the FBI. I want them to see exactly what went down here,” Murphy explained. “And I want to arrange for transportation to the hospital for Cook.”
“And my ranch hands,” she added, then tipped her head up at Colonel Murphy. “I’m so sorry people got hurt.”
“Part of the job.” He gave Riley a pointed look, then strode to the door.
“What’s that look supposed to mean?” she asked.
“That he doesn’t want you to see a bunch of dead bodies in the ranch yard,” Riley answered. “And after the authorities photograph the dead man in the living room, Big Sky can do s
ome cleaning up. You didn’t want that old rug, did you?”
She made a raw sound. “I killed a man,” she breathed, focusing on the implications for the first time.
“Self-defense,” he clipped out.
She managed a small nod.
“I’m going out to the shed to get some plywood—to put over the broken windows to keep the cold and snow out,” Riley said.
“Yes, thanks,” she answered. She didn’t want to be alone, but she knew he had work to do.
“We’ll clean up the broken glass. And later we’ll go over to the militia camp. My guess is that they came to kill you before blowing up the camp. So there will be evidence over there.”
Until that moment, she’d forgotten all about the damage from the battle. Lord, her house must be a mess. Was the Christmas tree all right? She fought to hold back a strangled laugh. The Christmas tree was the least of her worries.
She sat in the office, listening to the sound of tinkling glass and then hammering. Pulling herself together, she went back to the living room and was relieved to see the body gone. So she fell back on work. As she began to sweep up broken ornaments, one of the Big Sky men held a dustpan for her.
She worked automatically, keeping her focus on the task. But when she saw a stranger in the doorway, her head jerked up.
“Yes?”
A man walked toward her, holding out a badge. “Special Agent Paul Stanton, ma’am. I need to ask you some questions.”
“Yes, of course.”
He took her through an account of the invasion, then went back outside.
Alone again, she sat in the office, waiting for everyone to clear out of the house. Riley was outside conferring with the men from Big Sky and the federal agents.
When he came back, the colonel was with him.
“We’re all done here, ma’am,” he said. “The translation of the code from the prince’s speeches should be enough to get him in big trouble.”
“Will he be arrested?”
“We don’t know yet.”
Riley broke into the conversation, his voice soft. “Billy and Kelly have already left in an ambulance. Big Sky is leaving, before they get snowed in.”
