“Thanks for showing me around,” he said, putting his camera in his bag. “I’ll show the shots to all of you soon.”
The dogs put up a howl. She turned to them. “What’s the matter, girls?” she crooned.
When she heard the motor start, she exhaled in relief.
Opening the stall door, Phyl went to check on Freckles. Queenie at her side. “How are you, sweetie? How do you feel?”
Freckles quivered with pleasure as Phyl rubbed her back and tummy. “You seem okay. What did you eat that made you so sick?”
Freckles whimpered. “I know. I wish you could talk, too. But we’ll find out. We don’t want you sick again.” She turned to Queenie. “You too, Queenie. We don’t want our favorite girls hurt.”
All of a sudden, both dogs barked. The hair on Freckles’ back stood at attention. “What is it?” Phyl whispered.
Feeling a presence behind her, she put a hand over her thudding heart.
The dogs barked louder. Freckles raced to the end of the stall to throw herself at the closed gate.
Phyl’s gut tightened. She didn’t have a weapon. She looked around for a shovel, pitchfork, anything. Nothing in sight. But she did have the dogs. She had to get the gate open.
Standing, she turned.
Gregory Mateo. She felt the blood drain from her face.
If he made one move toward her she’d find a way to get the gate open. The dogs were going crazy now. If they got to him, they’d chew his legs off.
“Forgot my lens case.” He gave her a nervous half-smile. “Sorry if I startled you.” He paused. “And the dogs.”
He picked up the case and almost ran to his car.
When Freckles and Queenie were finally quiet, she went back to the house and to her room. She distinctly remembered that the lens case had been on top of his camera bag. Leaving it behind had to be deliberate.
It took a long time for her heart to still its erratic beat and her hands to stop trembling.
****
Mateo left the ranch with a smile. That bitch has no clue who I am. I’m going to do this, even if she tries to stop me. He wanted to hit her. Lucky for her the Callahans ignored her whining about how they couldn’t take time for him and his project. Lucky for all of them. Otherwise, he might have done something the boss might not like.
He’d just spent a boring hour snapping a camera and pretending to be a photographer. Sometimes he amazed himself he was so smart.
He almost screwed up though when he pretended to forget his lens case. The woman wasn’t stupid. He was going to have to be careful. Keep her off balance by being smarter. That shouldn’t be hard to do. Look what he’d done already.
He couldn’t wait to see the faces of the bastards who snickered behind his back.
Chapter Eight
As minutes dragged into hours, Donovan found himself missing Phyl more than he expected—or wanted. He was accustomed to her working beside him—accustomed to the lift of a shoulder, a smile. Instead, he had Mark’s incessant questions, and Cal’s desire to learn ranching. Neither could make up for Phyl’s competence. At least that’s what he convinced himself he missed—her competence.
He shook off thoughts of a woman he was in no position to pursue. He should be weighing whether he was staying at the ranch or moving on instead of wondering how Phyl’s naked body would feel under his hands, or how her lips would feel beneath his.
“Time for a water break,” he told his helpers as he took a bottle of water from his pack, tilted it to his mouth. “We don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”
“Didn’t Mom drink enough water? Is that why she got sick? Is that why she’s not helping us today?” Mark asked as he obediently drank half a bottle of water.
“Something like that,” Donovan muttered.
“She needs to take better care of herself,” Cal said.
“She shouldn’t be doing this heavy work in the first place,” Donovan groused.
“My mom can do anything,” Mark told them.
Donovan chuckled. “I believe you’re right.” He rubbed a hand over his clean-shaven face. It felt good to get rid of all that hair. Cooler. So far, no one had mentioned it.
He looked at the cattle, the drying grass. He bent over, picked up a handful of sandy dirt. It was part of a ranch he’d considered his. Something in his heart clenched tight, and he wondered if it would ever go away.
He’d get this last herd to auction then make a decision. Stay and be a part of what he’d once thought his, or leave and make his own destiny away from the Callahans.
If he left, the ranch would be in Phyl’s capable hands. If he stayed, he’d not only have to come to terms with the issues that were chewing up his insides, he’d have to send Phyl and Mark on their way. That thought made his gut clench tighter. In a too-short time he’d become accustomed to both of them. It was amazing to realize how much he’d miss the kid. Miss the questions, and miss seeing those brown eyes light up with each new discovery and experience.
Though the ranch was big, they couldn’t afford full-time help. So he couldn’t justify keeping them. His future was as uncertain as the Texas weather. Theirs was too. He had to come to a decision soon. It wasn’t fair to Phyl and Mark to keep them wondering.
With a deep sigh, he went back to work. Mark stayed beside him, mimicking his movements, being six. Donovan remembered doing the same as Mark when he was a kid. It was how he’d learned ranching. He’d loved it then—loved it still. But didn’t know how to reconcile the hurt in his heart with the truth. Until he did, he wouldn’t be content. He’d always have this unworthy feeling inside.
They worked another hour. Mark’s questions slowed, then stopped, Cal’s teasing dwindled to intermittent two-word sentences. They were tired and Mark’s face was turning red.
“Time to call it a day,” Donovan said. His helpers didn’t argue. “No racing back,” he warned. “It’s too hard on the horses.”
“No argument here,” Cal said tiredly. “I want a cold shower, and a gallon of iced tea.”
“Me, too,” Mark said as he struggled to get into the saddle. Donovan gave him a boost, making the boy chuckle.
“How about ice cream?” Donovan teased as they headed back at a sedate pace.
“Ice cream is good,” Mark agreed. “As long as it’s chocolate.”
Cal laughed. “Is there any other flavor?”
They were still bantering when they rode into the barn and the welcome shade. “Give Lily some water, brush her down, then feed her, Mark.”
“I know what to do,” he grumbled.
“So do I,” Cal put in. “That cold shower will have to wait.”
Donovan finished with Stormy before the others. “See you inside,” he said, leaving his helpers brushing their mounts.
He wouldn’t admit, even to himself, that he couldn’t wait to see Phyl.
****
“They should be back by now,” Phyl said worriedly. “Mark could get too much sun.” Which sounded better than the truth.
“Donovan will take care of him,” Nellie answered with confidence.
Despite the comfort of air conditioning, Phyl’s blood heated. All day she’d fought the memory of being in Donovan’s arms as they made their way back to the ranch.
She was the hired help, for goodness sakes, and running from a killer. She couldn’t afford fantasies. At best, one wrong move on her part would cause her dismissal. At worst—she couldn’t bear to think about it.
Phyl swirled the last bit of whipped cream on top of a bowl of banana pudding, placed it in the fridge. “What else can I do?” Relief washed through her when she looked out the window and saw Donovan striding toward the house. The aftermath of her relief made her weak. How long could she keep this up? They were safe here. Weren’t they?
The back door slammed. She’d become accustomed to the sounds each person made. Donovan slammed the door, hung up his Stetson, then washed his hands and face at the sink before he came into the kitchen. Mark mimic
ked Donovan. It worried her how her son had come to idolize a man who could be gone from their life at any time. Then there was Cal, always ready with a quick joke. He cleaned up in his room before he came in to eat, didn’t slam doors, and didn’t cause trouble. His constant teasing kept Mark laughing. She chuckled over his antics herself, but still couldn’t help wondering if he was somehow a nice guy conned into doing a job for someone who wanted to keep an eye on her. After all, he’d shown up out of nowhere. She hadn’t even realized Donovan had decided to hire someone.
“There you are.” Nellie smiled when Donovan walked in. “We were wondering when you’d be back.”
“It was another hot one. We didn’t accomplish as much as I expected.”
“We’ll make it up tomorrow,” Phyl promised. “Is Mark okay? Did he slow you down?”
“Stop worrying.” He took a glass, poured it full of iced tea, and drank it down in several long swallows before giving her a searching look. “How do you feel?”
The intensity of his gaze made her turn away. “Fine.”
“Mr. Mateo came by today. Phyl showed him the barn.”
A dark eyebrow lifted. “Is that so? Does that mean you’re over your objections?”
When she shook her head, he asked, “Any reason?”
Like anything she could put her finger on? She wished there was. “Queenie and Freckles didn’t like him.”
Donovan chuckled. “They bark at strangers. It’s part of their job.”
Her mouth lifted at the corners. “Maybe we see something you don’t.”
“Let me know when you figure out what it is. I’m going to take a shower before dinner.”
“There’s time,” Nellie said.
Phyl’s gaze followed him as he left the room. He looked different. With a shock, she realized he was clean-shaven. No wonder her heartbeat escalated just looking at him.
Mark came in and tried to slam the door as hard as Donovan. After washing up, he bounded into the kitchen. “Donovan says I’m a good helper.”
“I’m sure you are,” Phyl agreed, hugging him. “Your face is red.”
“It’s hot outside.”
“Why don’t you take a cool shower? You’ll feel better.”
“Where’s Donovan?”
“Taking a shower,” Nellie told him.
“Then I will, too.”
He hurried upstairs. Phyl turned to Nellie. “I’m afraid Mark is getting too attached to Donovan. He’ll be hurt when we move on.”
Nellie’s hand went to her chest. “Are you thinking of leaving?”
“No. But with Donovan back, I’m not really needed.” Donovan would want them gone, maybe not now, but what about after the herd was ready for auction?
“Why would you think that?” Nellie asked.
Phyl shrugged. “You hired me because Donovan wasn’t here. Now he is.” She was worried about her future—about where she’d go and how she’d keep Mark safe. “How long before dinner?”
“Forty-five minutes at least.”
“If there’s nothing else I can do, I’m going to check on Freckles.”
“Go on. And bring Cal back with you.”
The dogs were happy to see her. Freckles wagged her tail and Phyl swore she was smiling. Queenie danced around Phyl’s feet whimpering for a tummy rub. “I think you girls are spoiled,” she said, bending down to rub their bellies.
“They are,” Cal agreed, coming up to stand next to her.
His hair was still damp from his shower, his clothes clean. He looked scrubbed and happy. Phyl came to her feet. Cal had a way about him, but they didn’t know much about his background. To Phyl’s suspicious mind, there were some things that didn’t fit. “What brought you here, Cal?”
He grinned. “My Harley.”
Her radar went on alert. “Not what I meant. Why did you want this job?”
He looked away, shrugged. “Needed the work.”
“That’s it?” she asked as casually as she could. “Anything would do?”
He checked out his boots, glanced back at her. “Not exactly.”
Now he really had her curiosity going. “You’re what...nineteen?”
“Twenty.”
She frowned, hoping to look maternal. “Where’s your family, Cal?”
He mumbled an answer. Her heart beating uncomfortably fast, she leaned closer, pretending she hadn’t heard him well enough. “Did you say they were in Washington? State or D.C.?”
“State.” He sighed, as if he really didn’t want to have this conversation.
Which only raised her suspicions more. She decided to be blunt. “Are you on someone else’s payroll besides the Callahans’?”
“Excuse me?”
“Were you hired to come here by someone?”
“Sorry, Ms. Phyl. I came to work here ’cause Donovan said it was temporary. That’s the kind of job I wanted.”
This time she let herself show her suspicion. “You wanted to be a ranch hand?”
“No, I wanted temporary work.”
“Why? Why are you just drifting instead of going to school? Anyone can tell you’re smart enough.”
He seemed to relax a bit. “No secret there. I was at Yale for two semesters. That’s how long my dad gave me to decide my career path.” He paused, looked at his boots again. “I couldn’t do it.” His voice escalated and his cheeks flushed pink when he looked up at her again. “How do I know what I want to do for the rest of my life?”
It didn’t sound like he was lying, but still... “What does your dad do?”
“He’s a lawyer. Runs a Fortune 500 company. Thinks law and an MBA are the only way to go.”
“Really?” That would be a hard act to follow. “He wanted you to work with him?”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
“What happened?”
Pink cheeks turned a deep red. “He said he’d stop paying my way until I did.”
Happened all the time, but saying so wouldn’t help Cal. “Did you talk to him?”
He shook his head.
“What about your mother?”
“No one can. If he thinks he’s right, no one can change his mind. It’s his way or the highway.”
She’d grilled him enough for one day. Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Cal.” Maybe he was just a drifter down on his luck. “So tell me how you ended up here. Playing cowboy.”
“For the past six months, I’ve worked different jobs. I figure one of these days, I’ll find one that will hit me in the gut then I’ll know what I want to do for the rest of my life.”
Phyl finally allowed herself to laugh. It was a kid’s way of looking at life, not an adult’s. Cal was too young and confused to be a threat. “You haven’t found that magical place?”
His eyes brightened. “Not yet. But I will.”
Phyl opened the wooden gate to the dog pen. “C’mon, girls. You need to stay in here until we figure out what hurt you.”
Obediently, they went in. She pulled the gate shut. But when she slammed the wooden lock, she let out a cry.
“What?”
She held up her hand.
Cal looked at it. A long splinter was embedded in her palm. “That needs to come out.”
“Nellie will do it.”
“I can.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”
“It’s just a little splinter. Wait a minute. I have tweezers in my room.”
As she waited, she picked at the splinter, but it wouldn’t budge. Then Cal was back, needle and tweezers in hand. “Here we go,” he said just as the needle bit into her skin.
She pulled her hand back. Closed her fist.
Cal chuckled. “This won’t take a minute. I worked as a rescue worker on one of my jobs.”
She opened her fist and shut her eyes.
Her eyes popped open when he stabbed her again. “That’s it, Cal. I’ll get Nellie to do it.”
“I’m almost there,” he said. “Once more.”
&nb
sp; “No.” She pulled away, unsettled by the determined look on Cal’s face. “You’re not going to jab me again.”
“What are you, a sissy?” He pulled her arm toward him, locked it down with his own. “You can’t get away now,” he warned.
Her heart stopped. Those were the exact words the killer had thrown at her as she fled. Out of nowhere, her heartbeat accelerated, her breath became non-existent. No. She couldn’t have a panic attack. Not here. Not now. In her peripheral vision, she saw Donovan headed their way. The look on his face had her instinctively struggling to pull away.
“Come on, Phyl, show a little con—”
Without warning, Donovan yanked Cal away from her, shoved him toward his room. Once. Twice. Three times, until they were at the door. “You’re fired. Get your things and get out. You have five minutes. If you’re still here after that I’ll call Dugan and have you arrested.”
She had to stop Donovan. But her sudden need for air kept her from speaking. She couldn’t talk and breathe at the same time. Dizzy now, she held onto the wooden gate so she wouldn’t fall.
When Cal’s door shut, Donovan stalked over to her. “Did he hurt you?”
Stumbling to a bale of hay, she sat down. “Water,” she managed to say.
He handed her a bottle from the small refrigerator in the barn, watched her drink.
“What did he do to you?”
She took a steadying breath. She wanted to stand, but she wasn’t ready yet. “Nothing.” It was true. Cal had done nothing. Even his choice of words, though ill-conceived, were harmless. Neither of them could have predicted the effect they had on her.
Donovan gave her a disbelieving look, shook his head and left the barn, his face a mask of rage.
She sat there trembling. She had to tell him he was wrong. But from the look on his face he wouldn’t listen. Not with her still trembling and shaken from a near-panic attack. Hell, he’d probably fire her, too, if he knew how quickly she could fall apart at a moment’s notice. Put that together with his temper, and....
Donovan’s behavior was so out of character she wondered if she knew him at all. She’d even begun to have romantic thoughts about him. How like her. Wasn’t that what she’d done with Victor? Only when she’d found out about Victor it was too late. Maybe she wasn’t that good a judge of character after all.
Promise Kept Page 8
