A Cowboy's Touch (8 page)

Abigail frowned at the photo of Wade walking into a building with two uniformed officers. She read the article.

World Rodeo champion J. W. Ryan was brought in for questioning yesterday following his wife’s unexpected death. Sources say Elizabeth Montgomery-Ryan died unexpectedly in the couple’s home late Friday night. J. W. Ryan reportedly found his wife and called 911. The police say they have no suspects at this time and that their questioning of Ryan is standard procedure.

Abigail didn’t know what to feel first. The thought of Wade losing his young wife and then being questioned about her death was horrific. Was he with his wife when she died? Was Maddy? Abigail could only hope not.

Had the police’s questioning really been standard procedure? Surely he hadn’t been involved in the murder of his wife—his daughter’s mother. But why else would he have moved so far away, and under a different name? What had happened after the questioning?

She could find out easily enough.

She did another search, confining it to the investigation of his wife’s death, and clicked on an article in the
Houston Chronicle
dated several weeks later.

Nearly a month after the death of rodeo celebrity J. W. Ryan’s wife, police have declared the death an accident. Speculations about the cause of Elizabeth Ryan’s death have been fueled by a heated argument the couple reportedly had the night of her death.

So he was cleared. Abigail felt a blanket of relief cover her, for Maddy’s sake, not to mention her own safety. The rest of the article turned up no new information.

Why did Wade move? Was it only to escape the speculation and gossip? Surely that died down when the police cleared him. Why move so far away, go by Wade instead of J. W.? Why give up the rodeo circuit, which had apparently earned him a fortune?

Abigail clicked on another link, but it restated the same information. She skimmed articles for more details and found only redundant pieces from the Associated Press.

It was too painstaking to search through links. Where could she get more information? Who would know the details?

Reagan. Her sister had read celebrity tabloids since she was twelve. She’d know about this story. Abigail checked her watch, surprised to see over an hour had passed since she’d begun. It was an hour later in Chicago, but Reagan would still be up.

She unplugged her phone and dialed her sister’s number. It rang four times, then voice mail kicked in. Abigail considered leaving a message, but changed her mind. She’d call Reagan back when she was sure there was no one around to hear.

She closed the phone, plugged it into the charger, and reluctantly shut down her computer. It was late, and Maddy rose early. Abigail needed to turn in, but she knew from past experience that questions would hover like pesky mosquitoes until she found answers.

8

A
bigail woke before dawn the next morning. Moonlight still filtered through her eyelet curtains, illuminating the silver case of her laptop on the nightstand. All she’d read about Wade the night before came rushing back.

She sat up and glanced at her cell phone. It was too early, even in Chicago, for a phone call. It would have to wait until tonight. Besides, she admitted to herself as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, the speculations she’d read last night seemed less substantial now.

The police had ruled the death an accident. Regardless of how the accident occurred, Wade had suffered a tremendous loss. According to the articles, he’d found the woman he loved lying dead in their home.

Abigail rubbed her temple, realizing as she did so that she’d woken with a headache. She fumbled through her purse for Tylenol, then padded into the bathroom, hoping for a glass. No such luck.

Resigning herself to an early morning, she felt her way down the stairs, cringing at the creaks, hoping not to wake Maddy or Wade. Especially not Wade, as she was still in her pajamas, her hair a tousled mess.

In the kitchen, she filled a glass, took the pills, then headed back to her room. The floor was cold against her bare feet, and outside the living room window she could see the purple fingers of dawn stretching across the sky.

She found the stair railing and followed it up the flight, congratulating herself for missing the squeaks this time. Now if she could just go back to sleep for a couple hours. Maddy wouldn’t be up for another—

Her body collided with something hard. She braced herself against it.

There was warmth to the hardness. Motion. Not it.

Him
. She was such a klutz.

“What the—”

“Sorry . . .” she whispered. “I didn’t expect anyone to be up.” She couldn’t see his face, but she felt his hands on her arms, warm against her bare skin. Then they were gone.

“Always up this early.” His voice was a sleepy drawl.

Now that she’d recovered, she realized her own fingers were on his shirt, realized she was absently stroking the soft—flannel?— fabric.

She jerked her hands away, feeling like a fool. Thank God he couldn’t see the heat flooding her face. “I was just—I needed some water. I’m going back to bed.”

She ducked her head and dodged past him. When she reached her room, she slipped inside, closed the door, and told herself the fluttering of her heart was only from the fright of Wade’s sudden appearance.

Wade nudged Ace toward his friend Dylan as he watched Pee Wee and his neighbor O’Neil work a big calf that was putting up a fight.

Dylan laughed. “My grandma could do better’n that, O’Neil.”

O’Neil tightened his hold on the calf’s hindquarters, swearing when one hoof got loose and kicked off his hat.

Wade sat back in the saddle, grinning. The calf was definitely winning. He was glad Maddy was watching. It gave credence to his caution.

Wade removed his hat, ran his sleeve across his face. Ever since Maddy and Abigail had appeared at the fence ten minutes ago, he’d been distracted by their presence.

Not their presence, he corrected.
Her
presence. He didn’t know what it was about Abigail that had him all hot and bothered. Sure she was attractive, but it was more than that. He felt like she could look right through him, and it was disconcerting.

Yeah, that’s all it was. He was disconcerted. Especially this morning when her soft body had smacked up against him.

“Who’s the pretty young thing?” Dylan jerked his head toward the fence.

“My daughter.”

Dylan tossed Wade a look.

Wade didn’t like the way his friend eyed Abigail. “Maddy’s new nanny from Chicago.”

He grinned. “That’s some nanny. She got a boyfriend?”

“What happened to Brittney? Or Bridgett or whatever?”

“Got bored. What’s the story on the nanny?”

Wade shoved his hat on his head. “Name’s Abigail. Miss Lucy’s great-niece. Here short-term, for the summer.”

“Wouldn’t mind me a summer romance.”

Wade frowned at Dylan, but it was lost on his friend, who was still checking out Abigail. Dylan would consider the short-term part a bonus. Wade loved the guy like a brother, but his friend didn’t know the meaning of the word
commitment
when it came to women.

“Unless you’re interested,” Dylan said.

While Wade’s mind had wandered, Dylan had shifted his attention to Wade’s face, which no doubt reflected his thoughts.

“’Cause if you’re interested,” Dylan continued, “I’d consider it a good thing. A man needs a little feminine companionship, know what I’m saying?”

Wade’s gaze darted to Abigail, and just as swiftly his mind sifted through all the reasons Abigail didn’t deserve him. All the reasons no woman deserved him.

“Not interested,” he said finally. Amazing that the lie came out steady and firm. You’d think he meant it.

“Been a long time, buddy.”

Dylan meant well, but he didn’t understand. Wade wasn’t sure he understood it himself. “Got a daughter to raise and a ranch to run. All I’m thinking about now.” He nudged Ace forward.

“Then you don’t mind if I have a go?” Dylan said.

Wade scrambled for reasons and came up empty. “Suit yourself,” he called over his shoulder.

He could’ve kicked his own behind as he watched his friend saunter toward Abigail. Dylan was missing nothing in the looks department. He had a dimpled smile that beckoned every filly in a fifty-mile radius and a certain charm that gathered a female crowd wherever he went.

Why was he so bothered? Because there was something going on with Abigail’s health, that’s what it was. She didn’t need some philandering cowboy messing with her heart.

Maddy came off the fence, and Wade heard her squeal from clear across the pen.

“Hey, Uncle Dylan!”

Traitor
. He scowled as Dylan set his hat on Maddy’s head. A minute later, Maddy went skipping toward the barn. Dylan must’ve sent her on an errand. Smooth.

Ace shuffled under him. Wade dismounted and pretended to adjust the bridle, discreetly watching the scene between Dylan and Abigail. He’d give his best pair of boots to hear them.

Abigail perched on the fence, her long legs dangling over the side. Didn’t look much older than Maddy with her hair back in a ponytail. His gaze traveled down the length of her jeaned legs. Yeah, he’d bet that wasn’t the way Dylan saw it.

His friend leaned on the post next to Abigail. Close. Wade watched her face for clues, but she was too far away. Then Dylan shifted, putting his body between Abigail and Wade.

Daggonit. Wade checked out the calf being worked. They were vaccinating, finally.

He set his boot in the stirrup and mounted, hoping for a better view of the action at the fence. Maddy ran from the barn with a pair of gloves. Good girl. She handed them to Dylan, but he stood there still chatting up Abigail.

Activity in the corner caught his eye when the worked calf scrambled to her feet and ran for mama. The cowboys at the heater ribbed one another, no doubt casting blame and calling each other’s manhood into question.

“All right, boys,” Wade called. “Back to work.”

A moment later Dylan took his hat from Maddy’s head, set it on his own, then sauntered back toward him. Wade worked his rope, readying it for the next calf, telling himself he didn’t care if Abigail had fallen for Dylan’s charm, didn’t care if they were going out tomorrow night, didn’t care if they got hitched and had a passel of kids.

Dylan was slipping on the gloves Maddy had fetched as he passed Wade. “Must be losing my touch,” he mumbled.

Wade smothered the grin that fought for release.

9

I
’m going for a walk, Maddy,” Abigail said. “Want to come?”

Maddy didn’t look up from the computer game. “No thanks.”

“All right. I won’t be long.”

Wade had given Maddy permission to use Abigail’s laptop as long as she stayed in the living room and used it for games only. The girl was already a Ball Maze fanatic.

Abigail stepped onto the porch, letting the screen fall behind her. The night was getting cooler, and the moon rose in the sky, big and round, blanketing the treetops with a pale, silvery light. She trotted down the porch steps and started up the lane at a brisk pace. She’d neglected her exercise.

Wade had come home for dinner, then he was off again—to the barn, if the light up ahead was any indication. He was as passionate about his work as she was, apparently. It was hard being away from her job, the action, the satisfaction she got from writing her column.

She glanced at her watch, turning it so the moon illuminated the face. She’d give her sister another hour. It was a Friday night after all, and Reagan might have a date. It could happen.

Abigail breathed deeply, drawing in the fragrance of fresh grass and the loamy smell of dirt. Even the moonlight seemed to have a fragrance out here. It was a different world, a different planet. The pace was slower, and everything worked on nature’s schedule.

As Abigail neared the barn she heard a rustling, a low voice, and she turned into the doorway. The smell of fresh hay and cow flesh packed a wallop. She followed the sounds to the end of the barn where Wade squatted by a sleeping calf.