Big Chance Cowboy

by Teri Anne Stanley

  Clint shot Adam another look and said, “I changed my mind.”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Mitch said. “You don’t know what you’re missing. There’s a lot of money for a man with a strong stomach. You’ve got a baby on the way, you know.”

  “Yeah,” Clint said. “I know.” But he didn’t back down, and Adam silently applauded his backbone.

  Mitch’s big dog started to growl and bark in earnest now and turned toward the lane leading from the road.

  “What the hell?” Skinny growled.

  Adam looked up to witness the arrival of the absolute last person in the world who should be here right now. It really was true that there were no atheists in foxholes, because Adam began to pray like he’d never prayed before.

  As Lizzie pulled up in her SUV and opened the door to get out, Skinny put one hand on his hip. “Well, how about this?” he said.

  * * *

  Lizzie had just tried to call 911 again when she heard the gunshot from the road and decided not to wait for Marcus and Jake or the sheriff. Adam wouldn’t sit by while she got murdered.

  When she stepped out of her car, however, she realized she might have only delayed the inevitable as she took in the bizarre scene. A scrawny older guy pointed a gun at her as Mitch fought to control a drooling, growling pit bull. Granddad was lying in the dirt. Adam, bound and sitting on the ground nearby, was clearly not happy to see her. He wasn’t just mad, he was livid. His nostrils flared, and his jaw had never looked more rigid. She decided not to take it personally.

  Clint was there, too, holding his young dog’s leash, looking like he might pass out at any moment. She didn’t blame him—it was hot as hell out here.

  “Hello, bayyyybee!” the gun guy sang. “Thank you for coming to our party!”

  “Hi there,” Lizzie said and made a dramatic swipe at her drooping hair. “Hey, Mitch. How are you doin’ today? It sure is hot out here. I’m sorry to interrupt your gathering, but I’m a little lost. Didn’t there used to be a creek around here somewhere? It sure would be lovely to take a dip on such a hot day, don’t you think?”

  “Stop talking,” Gun Guy said. “There’s no creek here.”

  “Oh, shoot,” she said. “I wonder—does your phone work out here? Maybe I can call my friend and ask—”

  “Stop. Talking,” Gun Guy repeated. “Get over here.”

  “What? Why?” She looked at Adam and saw with a jolt of fear that Granddad hadn’t moved. Was he dead? She pushed the terror deep down inside and asked, “Why are those men tied up? Were they trespassing? Would you like me to drive them to town for you? I know where the sheriff’s office is.”

  “No. Shut. Up.”

  Okay, she hadn’t really thought it would work, but she was flying by the seat of her pants here.

  “You know this one, too?” Gun Guy asked Mitch.

  “Not really. Same high school, but she’s younger’n me.”

  Interesting that Mitch didn’t mention Lizzie’s interest in buying the property.

  Gun Guy smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. He told Mitch, “I have an idea. Let’s take this young lady for a tour of your establishment.”

  Huh? What establishment? Lizzie wondered.

  “Why don’t you walk on over that way?” Gun Guy said, gesturing with his weapon to the other side of the former basement, where the broken concrete steps led down to the unfenced side of the cellar.

  Lizzie stalled. “You want me to go into that…basement? I know it’s open to the sky and all, but it’s burned out, and I’m a little more dressed up today than I would be if I were going to go—”

  “Now,” Gun Guy ordered, pointing his gun at her again.

  Shouldn’t the police be here by now? Where were they?

  For all her rambling, Lizzie was telling the truth about one thing. She was not dressed to run around dangerous places. It was hot as blazes out here, and she was sweating through her clothes. And these shoes. She picked her way carefully over the debris-strewn ground and made a mental note that if she got out of this, she’d carry a pair of sneakers everywhere.

  How was she going to get out of this? Where was her cavalry? Marcus, Jake, and Zimmerman should be here by now, surely. The ranch wasn’t that far.

  When she reached the far side and looked down into the basement, she paused.

  “Now down the steps and get in there,” Gun Guy said, pointing to the open door of the caged area.

  That cage hadn’t been opened when they were here saving Loretta, had it? Poor Loretta. She was terrified to be here. She’d curled up on the car’s passenger-side floor, just like yesterday when she’d slept all the way to Mitch’s… Realization hit her. Loretta hadn’t been sleeping yesterday. She’d been hiding when they got to Mitch’s place because she remembered him.

  Before she took a step down, a crack of sound startled Lizzie at the same time as something thudded into the dirt next to her.

  “You son of a bitch!” Adam shouted, struggling in his bonds, rising to his knees before Gun Guy swung around and whacked him in the face with his gun.

  “Oh!” Gun Guy said, looking back and forth between Adam and Lizzie. “Do you two know each other?” He pointed at Lizzie. “Holy shit. Are you from Austin to get up in my business, too?”

  What?

  Adam glared at Gun Guy, blood dripping from a cut on his cheek. Clint’s dog disappeared beneath her SUV in a flash of leash. Then Clint shifted, watching Gun Guy.

  Mitch and that terrifying dog followed her to the basement rim.

  “Girl, get in that basement before I start the blood flowing early.”

  Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod. She was going to get eaten alive by a dog in front of Adam.

  She looked down, heat radiating up from the pit. Lizzie felt like she was about to walk into her own personal crematorium.

  Taking a deep breath, she looked up and caught Adam’s gaze.

  * * *

  Adam had never felt such helpless terror. Of all the things he’d failed at—and there were more than he could count at the moment—failing to keep Lizzie safe was the one that he’d never be able to survive. She met his eyes across the distance, and Adam couldn’t look away from her damp, flushed, beautiful face.

  Her lips moved, and he could have sworn she said, “I love you.”

  He couldn’t say anything back to her, didn’t want to give Skinny and Mitch any more ammunition to hurt her, so he only nodded. If she was as terrified as Adam was, and if believing Adam loved her back could give her peace, then he wanted her to have hope.

  He tried to tell her, with one long look, how much she meant to him, how much more meaning his life had with her in it. Three months ago, he’d been a broken loser, with no sense of purpose other than repaying a debt to his sister and riding off into the sunset. Lizzie brought him that big goofy dog and gave him a reason to get out of bed in the morning. Lizzie, with her optimism and trust, had helped him find his way back to work that he loved. He once again related to humanity in a way he hadn’t believed possible.

  Turning away, she swiped a sweaty strand of hair away from her face and took one step down into that deathtrap of a basement.

  He couldn’t let her go like this. He had to tell her. “Lizzie, I—”

  * * *

  Lizzie saw a flash of movement in her peripheral vision and looked up. Someone was in the bushes lining the lane from Mill Creek Road. Marcus, Jake, and Zimmerman must have arrived.

  Unfortunately, Mitch’s dog noticed them at the same time as Lizzie. It turned from watching her to strain toward the road, sniffing and snarling. No. He couldn’t alert Mitch and Gun Guy that help was here.

  Mitch gave the dog’s leash a yank. “What the hell—”

  Lizzie hoped the guys in the bushes were paying attention. Turning, she yelled, “I can’t die like this!” and lunged aw
ay from the basement.

  Mitch tried to grab her, losing his balance in the process. With a grunt, he fell on her, releasing the dog’s leash as they toppled into the dirt. From beneath two hundred and fifty pounds of stinky idiot, she heard gunshots and watched the pit bull take off for the bushes where Marcus, Jake, and Zimmerman hid.

  Chapter 33

  Bullets flew as Adam fought to free himself and get to Lizzie. His hands were still bound behind his back, and he twisted his arms, trying to loosen the ropes for everything he was worth. He’d rip off a hand and do somersaults to get to her if he had to. He’d protect Lizzie with his last, dying breath.

  She screamed and shoved at Mitch, who flailed like an upended turtle, while his dog sprinted away and dove into the bushes.

  Meanwhile, Skinny turned in maniacal circles, pointing his gun randomly, seeming unable to fix on a target. He sent a couple of shots into the air.

  Adam renewed his struggle to get free.

  “Hold still, man,” came a voice from behind. Clint. With a couple of sharp tugs, the rope was cut. Blood and pain rushed into Adam’s hands, but he didn’t give a shit. He reached for his ankles.

  “Wait,” Clint said tightly. He scooted around and put his Leatherman to work on Adam’s feet. Both men kept an eye on Skinny. The shooting had stopped for the moment, while Skinny tried to jam a new magazine into his gun.

  On the other side of the basement, Lizzie managed to get out from under Mitch. She glanced at Adam, then kicked off her shoes and ran toward the dog in the bushes.

  Oh hell no. She couldn’t possibly be planning to try to rescue that dog in the middle of this mess.

  But then a deep bellow from the bushes made it clear what—or who, rather—Lizzie was trying to help. The dog backed up, dragging a man with him—shit, was that Zimmerman? Here?

  Jake and Talbott followed. Both men tried to grapple with the dog, but it wasn’t giving up on its prey, who tried to curl into a fetal position on the ground. The shouting and general chaos only served to firm its resolve, and it clamped its jaws deeper into the man’s leg. Lizzie screamed at the dog to let go and looked like she might try to dive in and help.

  “You get her. I’ll take this one,” Clint said, nodding toward Skinny.

  Adam nodded and ran across the farmyard while Clint tackled Skinny.

  Adam reached Lizzie and pulled her away while Jake and Talbott tried to get the dog away from Zimm. He checked on Mitch, but the man was still floundering on the ground. Jake let out a yell, and by the time Adam turned back around, Talbott was pulling an unconscious dog away from an unmoving Max Zimmerman.

  Jake crouched next to them, holding a heavy branch and breathing hard. “I’m sorry,” he said shakily. “I hit it.”

  “Watch out,” Talbott said. He pulled off his T-shirt to wrap around the wound in Zimm’s leg, which pulsed with a steady stream of dark, red blood.

  Adam looked at the dog, now a few feet away. It was still breathing but unconscious. For how long?

  Zimmerman moaned. He was in bad shape.

  Talbott said, “Come on, Zimm. You with me, buddy?”

  Adam looked at Jake, who was staring at the ground, panting. “Jake, don’t lose it on me, man.”

  He looked at Adam. “I hit the dog.”

  “You saved Zimmerman. The dog’s okay. See? He’s breathing.” He nodded at the dog. “But we don’t know when he’ll wake up. Put him…” He looked around. “Can you take him over there, tie his leash to that tree, and keep an eye on him while I check on Granddad?”

  With a big breath, Jake shuddered and seemed to come back from wherever he’d been. “On it, Sar’nt.” He crouched and lifted the dog.

  Granddad still lay quietly on the ground, oblivious to all that had happened.

  Adam saw Clint finish tying Skinny’s feet together. He was bound just as Adam had been. Silently, Clint held up the gun to show he’d also been disarmed. Good. One asshole down.

  Adam turned to find Lizzie just in time to hear her yell, “Let me go, you dickwad!” Mitch Babcock had her by the arm and was trying to wrestle her into her SUV.

  God. Could this day get any worse? “Let her go, Babcock!” he yelled.

  Lizzie looked up and was knocked sideways when the car door blew open with a burst of fury.

  * * *

  Loretta charged past Lizzie and latched onto her former master’s arm, taking Mitch to the ground in a flurry of fur and screams.

  Adam made it to Lizzie’s side and wrapped an arm around her as he backed them away from the carnage.

  “Get this bitch off me!” Mitch howled in panic.

  Loretta squatted on Mitch’s torso, her jaws clamped tightly on his upper arm, her single eye fixed on his. He tried to pull away from her, but she just bit deeper. Jake stepped forward to grab for Loretta’s collar, and she growled around the arm in her jaws. Jake raised his hands and stepped back.

  Mitch lifted the hand of his uninjured arm in supplication and begged, “Don’t let her kill me.”

  Snarling, Loretta released him but snapped at his face. Mitch froze, wisely averting his eyes from the dog.

  Lizzie pulled away from Adam. “Come on, Loretta,” she coaxed, standing a few feet away. Adam stood at her back. She didn’t think she needed protection from the dog but was grateful to Adam for not trying to take over, even as he made her feel safer.

  Lizzie was dimly aware of approaching sirens but stayed focused on the scene in front of her. “Loretta, you’ve got babies at home who need you,” Lizzie said softly. The words wouldn’t make any sense to Loretta, but hopefully the sound of her voice would register. “The police are here, Loretta. Let them take over now.”

  Loretta didn’t look away from her captive, but she did step off him and back away.

  “Here, Loretta,” Jake said, moving forward slowly with a leash, which she allowed him to clip to her collar.

  Adam pulled Lizzie in close, grasping her hand.

  Loretta stood stiffly next to Jake, watching Mitch try to struggle to his feet. “Stupid dog,” he muttered, one hand clamped over his arm. There didn’t seem to be much blood. “Wouldn’t fight back to save her life a few weeks ago, and now she’s gonna turn on the hand that fed her.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Lizzie asked, incredulous. “You let another dog try to kill her and then left a pregnant dog for dead.”

  Adam squeezed her hand, and she appreciated the unspoken support, especially because she was a little wobbly at the moment.

  “She was pregnant?” Mitch said. “Son of a bitch. I shoulda kept her. How many puppies?”

  “None that you’ll ever see,” Adam told him.

  “Which of you is Adam Collins?” A man in a brown uniform walked toward them, a hand on the pistol in his holster. A couple of Chance County Sheriff’s vehicles were parked behind him, and an ambulance was pulling behind them. The deputy wasn’t looking at the humans, however. His eyes were on Loretta, who was still intently watching Mitch.

  “I am,” Adam confirmed.

  “Can you secure that dog, please?” the deputy, whose name tag said Red Diamond, asked.

  “She’s okay now,” Jake said.

  Adam shook his head, though, and said, “He’s right. She’s already on edge. Why don’t you put her in Lizzie’s car? Mitch isn’t going anywhere.”

  Indeed—Mitch was still on his backside in the dirt, holding his arm.

  Jake saw to Loretta as another officer dealt with the dog that had attacked Max Zimmerman, and one stood over Mitch’s friend, unloading the gun he’d had. An EMT jogged toward Zimmerman, while another attended Granddad.

  It wasn’t getting any cooler out here, Lizzie noted. She used her free hand to tug at her blouse, hoping to move some air in and out and cool off a bit. She wondered if the cop carried cold water in his cruiser. Wouldn’t that
be a nice thing for a Texas policeman to carry?

  “Hey, Jake,” she called as he coaxed Loretta into her car. “The keys are in the center console there. Go ahead and turn on the air-conditioning for her, would you?” She would really love to be in that car with the air-conditioning but knew she needed to stay out here and share her story when it was time.

  “Your sister contacted us, but it looks like we missed most of the excitement. Could you tell us what happened here?” Diamond asked Adam.

  “I’m fine,” Granddad croaked at the EMT trying to assist him. “Just get me untied. I’ve gotta take a leak.” Clint sawed at the ropes with his Leatherman.

  At hearing Granddad’s voice, Lizzie felt relief flow through Adam’s fingers into hers.

  “I need help,” Mitch whined.

  “We’ll be right with you,” the paramedic with Zimmerman called.

  Maybe there was a cooler full of water in the ambulance, Lizzie thought.

  Diamond took a notepad and pen out of his pocket. “Okay.” He looked expectantly at Adam. “Tell me what happened.”

  “These two”—Adam indicated Mitch and the other guy—“are the ones running the dogfighting ring here.”

  “That’s a lie,” Mitch protested.

  Adam ignored him and went on. “And they were here making plans to expand their operation.”

  “Bullshit.” Mitch’s protest lacked conviction.

  “What were you doing here?” Diamond asked Adam.

  “We own this property.”

  “The hell you do,” Mitch said with a little more spirit. “This is mine.”

  “Did you forget selling it to my grandfather a few years ago?” Adam asked.

  “There’s no proof of that,” Mitch said.

  “Yes, there is, but we’ll deal with it later,” Adam told him. Adam released Lizzie’s hand. The few inches he moved away felt like miles. He went on, “They also had a dog locked in a metal crate sitting in the sun. I don’t even want to think about how hot it was in there. I took some video of Mitch and Skinny over there making plans and sent it to my—I sent it to Lizzie and asked her to get help.”