Bulletproof Heart

by Sheryl Lynn

  When the older man finally ran out of steam, she said, “I appreciate your concern. But I have a more pressing problem right now. Joey took off.”

  “I know. Sheriff’s looking for him. What’s this about him being up at the north pasture?”

  “Joey’s looking for Tuff.”

  Claude lifted his fleshy upper lip in a snarl. “Why?”

  “Because he’s scared. He’s afraid the posse will shoot Tuff.”

  “Good riddance, I say. Tuff is devil’s spawn. He ought to be shot. If he shows that mug of his around here, I’ll shoot him myself.” Claude handed Reb a cup of coffee so black it looked like paint. Then he snorted, his wiry shoulders shaking with disgust. “I thought you had a firm rein on Joey, girl.”

  “Do you have any idea where he would go? He’s on horseback and he headed west. You know better than I do where Joey thinks he might find Tuff.”

  “Ain’t that a fine kettle, huh?” Claude cracked his oversize knuckles. “My joints are telling me this dang storm is more than a blow-by, and you let Joey go running off.” He sniffed derisively in the direction of a radio. “Weathermen say it’ll clear. Ha! Be snow before the week is out. Count on it. Why, I recall back in ‘56—”;

  “Listen to me!” Emily interrupted. “He’s out there alone and he’s scared and he’s worried to death about Tuff. If you don’t want to look for him, then tell me where to look.”

  Claude shrugged irritably and dropped into a chair. He picked up a leather awl and examined it.

  “Blame me all you want,” Emily continued, “but I know you care about Joey. So help me. He was here this morning. Did he tell you where he’s going? Did he even hint about what he’s up to?”

  “Nobody’ll find Tuff unless he wants finding. Kid’s got the sneak of a cougar. And I sure wouldn’t want to be the cowpoke who crosses his path.”

  “Exactly my point, Claude. I don’t want Joey finding him. Tuff stole a gun. He’ll use it.”

  He looked her up and down, his pale eyes sharp behind sagging folds of weathered skin. “You can’t find him, and that’s a fact.” He heaved a martyred sigh. “Reckon I can go take a look-see for the boy.”

  “Reb and I will go with you.” She turned for the door. “I’ll meet you—”

  “I’m not in the mood to play nursemaid. You just scoot on back to your kitchen and let me handle Joey. Harrumph, most likely he’ll come dragging back before the day’s out anyway. He knows how hard it’ll be to find Tuff.”

  Emily looked at Reb, her eyes begging for his help. He agreed with the older man. Emily and her roan mare couldn’t keep up with Claude. Stubborn determination wasn’t enough to make her search effectively. As much as Claude’s hurtful words and unfair attacks irritated him, Reb kept his mouth shut.

  “Fine,” she said wearily.

  “Wait a minute, girl. I got something to say to you.” Claude set down the awl and clamped both hands on his knees. “Think about this while you’re baking a pie.”

  She closed her eyes. Her lips moved as if she were counting down her temper.

  “Sell me the Double Bar R.”

  Reb lifted his eyebrows, and Emily turned slowly to face Claude.

  “You can hightail it back to the city,” he continued. “Me and Joey will get along fine without you.”

  “I can’t sell the ranch.”

  “You won’t be selling it out from under the boy. I’m more family than you are. I’ll leave it to Joey in my will.”

  Emily sighed. “I have no intention of taking the ranch away from Joey, Claude. Now, please go find him.” She put her hand on the doorknob.

  “Pay you fair market value. Cash. That’s what you want.”

  “Even if I did, you don’t have that kind of money. I’ve been offered nine-fifty. And that’s just the starting bid.”

  Claude cocked his head, his incomprehension plain.

  “Nine hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Claude,” she said patiently. “Another real-estate broker told me the land could be worth as much as a million-three to the right buyer.”

  His mouth fell open.

  Reb didn’t share Claude’s surprise. He’d seen the high-priced vacation homes sprouting throughout the valley. There must be a dozen developers licking their chops at the idea of buying the Double Bar R. If Emily had a dishonest bone in her beautiful body, she’d have been long gone. It did surprise him Claude didn’t realize it.

  Claude recovered with a shake. “That’s big-city prices, but I just want the land. You find out what it’s worth, and I’ll pay up. Cash, fair and square.”

  “You don’t need to buy the ranch, Claude. Not even for a nickel on the dollar. It belongs to Joey. If I can keep him alive long enough to grow up, I’m giving it to him, no strings attached. So, please, go find him and bring him home.”

  Reb thought he detected a trace of softening on Claude’s seamed face. The old man popped to his feet. “Reckon that’s what you told Garth, but I’m not falling for it.”

  “Let’s go, Reb.” She opened the door.

  “Shoot,” Claude continued. “I don’t drink, don’t honky-tonk or gamble. Only weakness I got is for fancy painted horses, and ain’t bought one of them since 1973. Been saving my money for my old age, but hell, I’m old and still got nothing to spend it on. Only thing I have left is Joey. You and Tuff are nothing but heartache. Any luck at all, Tuff’ll get himself shot for a varmint.”

  “I’ll think about it, Claude,” she said in a small, troubled voice. She hurried out the door.

  Reb studied the cowboy. Claude was nearly eighty years old and set in his ways. Still strong in body and spirit, but weak inside his closed-tight mind.

  “Watch out for that woman, Reb,” Claude warned. “She’ll drain you like a spider drains a fly.”

  Once outside, Reb inhaled the fresh rain-washed air. Then he followed Emily to the car and slid onto the passenger seat. She leaned against the steering wheel with her head on her folded arms. He rubbed her shoulder.

  “I never did anything to Claude,” she said. “I don’t know why he hates me.” She pushed upright, gave herself a shake and started the engine.

  Reb settled back on the seat as she carefully maneuvered the car in a circle. “You could take him up on his offer. Sell out to him.”

  She surprised him with a laugh. “Get real. He doesn’t have the money. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit to find his mattress stuffed full of cash, but I know what he makes in wages. Even if he’s saved every dollar he ever earned, he couldn’t buy the ranch.” She kept both hands on the wheel and her gaze focused on the road. “He has no concept of today’s prices. He still thinks a dollar should buy a steak dinner and a round of beer. So trust me, even if I’d sell, he couldn’t buy.”

  “So, let him make an offer and take it.”

  “That would leave Claude and Joey with nothing. Neither of them have a clue about the business side of running this operation. Joey’s smart, he can learn, but losing the ranch isn’t the lesson I want to teach him.”

  “You’re underestimating Joey.”

  “I can’t take the chance.”

  He rested a hand on her arm. “This is guilt talking, not reason. You’re trying to make up for running away with Daniel.”

  She snatched her arm from his grasp and shot him an angry, wounded glare. “You’re the last person I expect to understand! You don’t know anything about responsibility. Or—or loyalty.”

  Her barb cut straight through him.

  The rear end of the car dropped into a pothole. Reb bounced hard on the seat, and his teeth clacked. Emily jerked on the wheel. The tires thump-thumped into another hole.

  “My car!” she cried. “I wrecked my car.” She jammed hard on the brake.

  “Emily, calm down.”

  A word he never expected to hear from her slipped out of her mouth. Tears glazed her eyes, and her chin quivered. Reb braced for a storm as she inched the car forward. An ominous rattle shook the rear end, and a tear slipped d
own her cheek.

  “It’s probably only the muffler. Do you want me to drive?”

  She ignored him. Her hands were white knuckled on the steering wheel. He knew her tears had nothing to do with the car and everything to do with Joey’s disappearance. Not to mention Claude’s unwarranted abuse. He searched for something, anything to say. All that came to mind were justifications about how he was both responsible and loyal and if she’d give him half a chance, he’d prove it.

  As soon as she parked the car inside the garage, she raced around to the rear end and dropped to her knees on the gravel.

  Reb looked down at her as she peered anxiously underneath the car. He didn’t trust himself to say anything wise. He ached to offer comfort, but he knew where that would lead. A hug, then a kiss, then into her bed with nothing resolved and his culpability increased. He crouched. With a hand on the bumper, he examined the muffler, which hung so low that it touched the ground.

  “You lost a bolt. Nothing serious. I can fix it in ten minutes.”

  She sat back on her heels. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” she said. “I didn’t mean what I said.”

  She had meant it. And she’d spoken the truth; it couldn’t hurt so much unless it was the truth. Being responsible professionally and loyal to whoever paid him meant nothing. Any dog could show loyalty to a man with a feed bowl. “Get me a flashlight so I can look at the fittings.”

  “I really am sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t want you mad at me, too.”

  “I’m not mad.” Except at myself. He understood perfectly now what Garth Rifkin had seen in her and why he’d entrusted her with the ranch. She possessed decency, honesty and a capacity for caring. Her grandfather had known as soon as the words I promise slipped from her lips that she’d keep her word no matter what it cost her. Garth had used her.

  As Reb used her now. He hated himself for it.

  As Emily headed toward the house, he set his hat on the trunk and lay on the ground so he could get a better look at the muffler. Propped on an elbow, he watched her climb the porch steps. The time had come for him to tell her the truth. She wasn’t involved with Tuff or the money or the murder. Keeping her ignorant served no purpose. In some ways it only made his job more difficult.

  She was going to hate him. She’d look directly at him, her big brown eyes hiding none of her hurt or anger, and she’d loathe him.

  Emily wouldn’t scream and pummel him with her fists. No, she’d be understanding. She’d listen quietly as he explained how she’d been designated a target for murder because her older brother wanted her dead and her younger brother thought she was a murderer. Reb was going to have to tell her that Tuff was even worse than she thought, too. Not only was the man a thief, but Reb knew he’d been involved in more than one murder. All along, Reb had used charm and lies to gain Emily’s trust so she would lead him to the money. Maybe Emily would pretend to forgive him—and say she realized he had a job to do, that it was dirty work but somebody had to do it.

  And yet the adoration in her doe-soft eyes would extinguish.

  She’d turn frigid to his touch.

  If her mouth didn’t say it, the rest of her body would: you’re a low-down, dirty-stinking, rotten liar, and I’ll never, ever forgive you.

  Emily burst through the doorway. The screened door slammed with a bang against the house. Her feet thudded on the wooden porch. Catching a post in one hand, she vaulted across the steps and hit the wet ground hard. She slipped, regained her balance and churned grass, racing toward the garage.

  Reb scrambled to his feet.

  Arms outstretched, she ran to him. “Somebody’s in the house!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Whoever had been in the house was probably long gone, but despite Reb’s assurances Emily tiptoed into the kitchen, even after Reb had searched the house from top to bottom. Wide-eyed, she looked around the room, then her fearful gaze followed a faint trail of muddy boot prints across the floor.

  “It could have been Joey,” Reb said. He crouched and swiped a finger across one of the prints. “Dry.” He glanced at the clock. “We weren’t at Claude’s that long. Maybe Joey was hanging around, waiting for you to leave so he could fetch dry clothes.”

  Emily gave a start when she realized how late it was. Between Tuff and Mickey, Joey and Claude, it seemed as if a lifetime had dragged through the day. Yet here it was almost fully dark. “I doubt it’s Joey. He knows better than to track mud on my floors.” Shivering gripped her. “It had to be Tuff. The door was locked, so whoever was here used a key.”

  “If it was Tuff, why didn’t he take the shotgun?” Reb nodded at the weapon resting against the wall. “Check around. See if anything’s missing. I’ll take care of the animals.”

  “Pardon me for cowardice, but I’m not staying in this house alone. Come with me.” She steeled herself and crept through the kitchen. The muddy prints petered out in front of the staircase, but still clearly pointed to the intruder going upstairs.

  Displaying none of her reluctance, Reb went past her. He checked Joey’s room a second time. Nothing was disturbed, and there were no damp clothes in the hamper.

  Emily cautiously opened the door to Tuff’s room.

  “Anything missing? Out of place?” Reb asked. In the center of the room he turned a slow circle, his eyes darting, searching.

  “I wouldn’t know. I never come in here, not even to clean.” She rubbed her chilly arms. “He doesn’t want me in here.”

  She knew it had to be Tuff. He must have been watching the house, waiting for her to leave, and used his key to enter. Why? She checked his clothes hamper. Empty. Nothing inside the closet indicated he’d changed clothing.

  Why?

  She never kept cash in the house, and Tuff knew it. The only weapons they had were Joey’s deer rifle and the shotgun. The kitchen was undisturbed, so he hadn’t come back for food. His car was locked up in the county impound lot.

  “Joey’s truck.” She ran across the hall to Joey’s room, straight to his desk, where he kept a spare set of keys for his truck.

  “His spare keys are gone,” she called out. Suddenly sensing someone behind her, she jumped—only to find Reb standing right there. She clasped a hand over her pounding heart and cast him a glare.

  “I’ll start whistling,” he said, his smile contrite.

  She pawed through the clutter of pens, paper clips, old school notes and rodeo schedules, but couldn’t find the keys. She checked all the drawers and his bedside table. “Gone.” She looked out the window and, even in the dusky darkness, could see the old pickup parked in its usual place under the long branches of a cottonwood tree.

  “Joey could have hidden the keys to keep you from taking them,” Reb said.

  A reasonable assumption. She chewed her lower lip. “If not the keys, then what?”

  “Come on.”

  She didn’t bother putting on her coat, and the cold bit her as soon as she followed Reb outside. Carrying the shotgun, Reb didn’t appear in the least disturbed by the rapidly dropping temperature. He stood tall, outwardly relaxed, as he looked around.

  A sense of exposed vulnerability kept Emily pressed against the wall. In every shadow she imagined Tuff, lean and deadly, caressing the barrel of a gun, waiting for a chance to put a bullet in her head.

  “I’ll call the sheriff,” she whispered. “He can stake out the truck. Let’s get out of here, Reb. I’m scared.”

  “He’ll be expecting a trap.”

  Reb hopped silently off the porch and strode to the pickup. She heard him open the truck’s hood. Curiosity overcame caution, and she hurried to his side. He handed her the shotgun, fiddled around with the engine, then gently lowered the hood. He leaned on it to secure the latch. He held something.

  “What is that?”

  “Distributor cap. Cheap trick, but effective. Tuff isn’t going anywhere. Any spare keys to your car?”

  “None Tuff knows about. Reb, we need to get out of here. You have to belie
ve how dangerous he is. If we get in his way, he’ll kill us.”

  “Not a chance. Trust me.”

  A cold, wet blob thrust against her hand. She screamed and would have dropped the shotgun if Reb hadn’t caught it. Copper woofed and laid his ears flat, turning in tail-wagging circles as if in apology for frightening her.

  “Tuff doesn’t need to kill me—you two will give me a heart attack.” She crouched and grasped the dog’s big head by his furry ruff. He tried to lick her face. He acted as unconcerned and friendly as usual. If Tuff were around, Copper would be cowering in the barn. “Okay, Reb.” She rose. “Tuff isn’t here.”

  “Will Copper bark at your brother?”

  “No, he’d be digging a hole to hide in. What do you suggest?”

  “Go back in the house. Lock up. I’ll take care of the animals and check around.”

  Once inside the kitchen, she stood at the sink, watching through the window as lights went on inside the barn. Weariness draped her shoulders. The adrenaline rush had faded, leaving her heavy and dull minded.

  Still, something was wrong. She was sure Reb didn’t want the sheriff here, but that didn’t make any sense. At this very moment Tuff could be digging up the duffel bag. He’d come back here to steal the truck, and when he couldn’t start it, then what?

  Reb didn’t want the sheriff’s help.

  Reb, she decided, was out of his ever-loving mind. She reached for the telephone, but hesitated.

  If she called the sheriff and a hundred cops showed up, Tuff would know. He’d hear them coming from miles away. He’d never be caught—and she’d always be in danger. She sighed, still not sure what to do. She fixed a simple supper of leftovers, and had it hot and ready on the table when Reb returned. He held Copper by the collar.

  “Copper,” she said. “Get in here.”

  “C’mon,” Reb urged as Copper came inside.