Cowboy PI (13 page)

“Funny man,” she said, surprised at how much she was enjoying their banter. “I’m having enough problems just staying in the saddle, never mind all the rest, and here you want me to learn how to lasso naughty cows.”

His grin developed into a chuckle. “It’s a thought. And, anyway, if Joe Walker did come back, it would be as a bull, not a heifer.”

The blue eyes were laughing at her now. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Am I?”

“Oh, I don’t mean just giving me a hard time. It’s all the rest of it. Being out here like this with the cattle and horses, working with them every day and not minding how tough it is or any of the hardships.”

“I guess you’re right,” he admitted.

“Then why are you a PI at all? Why aren’t you a full-time rancher?”

“As a matter of fact…”

“What?” she urged him.

He hesitated again, and then he told her. “There’s no reason you shouldn’t know. I’ve promised myself that by the end of the drive I’ve got to decide one way or another whether to give up the PI work altogether.”

“Is all this that much of a lure for you?”

“Yeah, I’m afraid it is.”

“That’s too bad. From what I’ve observed you make an excellent private investigator.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” He gazed at her, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Or could it be that my family has somehow enlisted you in a campaign to keep me at the agency?”

“My testimonial comes unsolicited,” she assured him, remembering how her grandfather’s lawyer had mentioned to her that Roark’s entire family was engaged in investigative work. “So what progress have you made with your decision?
Are
the Hawkes going to lose you?”

“Haven’t made up my mind. I’m still working on it.”

There was something about the way he said it that made Samantha realize this was more than just a straightforward decision for him. That it went beyond a simple question of whether he preferred cattle over clients who needed his PI skills. Whatever it was, she had the idea it was gnawing at him. But she felt no more entitled to ask him about it than to question any of the others in the outfit about the problems that were worrying them.

Watching them, Samantha was ready to believe they were as cursed by this cattle drive as she was. Nearly everyone seemed troubled by something. Except for Dick Brewster, of course. The horse wrangler remained perpetually cheerful. As for the others…well, they were a different story.

Ramona, for instance, continued to be uncharacteristically subdued. Still worried about her son, Samantha guessed. And maybe with good reason. Ernie Chacon was a moody young man, and although he behaved and kept to himself, it was evident he and Alex McKenzie didn’t like each other. Alex, too, seemed unhappy, and had been since he’d caught Roark kissing Samantha. She felt sorry for Alex, though she wasn’t prepared to regard his interest in her as anything serious.

“Puppy love,” Cappy Davis pronounced in disgust. “He’ll get over it.”

It was hard to tell if Cappy himself was bothered by anything. The old man had always been impassive to the point of gloom.

There was no mistaking Shep Thomas’s concern. The trail boss had the sad eyes of a man who wasn’t sleeping well. And although this was understandable, since the burden of a cattle drive, which grew more difficult with each passing day, was his responsibility, Samantha wondered. Was it something more than just the drive and its delays that had Shep looking increasingly harried?

Secrets.

Nearly all of them seemed to be guarding secrets, Samantha decided. And each of those secrets added to the daily stresses of the drive. She could feel her own strain mounting, though to be honest about it Roark Hawke was more to blame for that than anything else. He was nearly always at her side, ready to deal with any further threat to her. There was none, unless you counted Roark himself. And she did.

Samantha was constantly aware of him riding close beside her. Of his tall, lean body and how cowboy-sexy it looked in the saddle. Of those big hands stroking the neck of his horse or capably handling the reins. Of his long, smoldering glances and how she knew whenever they were directed at her, which was far too often, that he too was remembering the explosive kiss they had shared the night of the stampede.

The kiss hadn’t been repeated, but it was a temptation—always there reminding her of the heat of his hard body strained against her, contributing to the tension between them. Which it wouldn’t have if Samantha hadn’t found herself longing to feel his mouth on hers again.

It was a conflict she didn’t need, not when she was struggling to survive all the rigors of this damnable cattle drive.

“I know what I’m doing when it comes to selling real estate,” she confessed to Roark. “Even with my agency facing hard times, I can be self-assured when I’m handling properties and clients. But out here I feel lost.”

“I don’t know why you’re worrying about it,” he said with a reassuring ease. “Sure, the challenges are there, but you’re making progress. You’ve come a long way since that first morning.”

Thinking about it, she realized he was right. She no longer trembled before she mounted a horse, no longer backed hastily away from a longhorn that looked like it might charge her. Slowly, and in spite of all her doubts, she found herself being tempered into a tougher material, one that was resilient enough to meet and endure the trials of the trail. And though she was a long way from being skillful with horses and cattle, her confidence was growing. One way or another, she promised herself, she would conquer this drive, and, yes, her fears along with it.

But none of this was enough to soften her ultimate intention to keep far away from ranching and all that was associated with it. And that meant not risking a relationship with a man who was on his way to becoming a full-time cowboy.

She had to resist the allure of Roark Hawke, and that wasn’t easy. Not just because of his sensual appeal, either. There were so many other facets of the man that were being revealed to her layer by layer, attractive qualities like his humor and the way he cared about people, which made her enjoy his company and even think of him as a friend.

But you are not going to fall in love with him. When all this is done with, you’re going to put distance between you. A safe distance.

It was with this fierce resolve that Samantha and the others arrived at Lost Springs late in the afternoon of their fifth day on the trail.

“W
HAT DO YOU SAY
?” Dick pleaded with the trail boss. “After all we’ve been through, haven’t we earned a little fun?”

“This was scheduled to be a one-night stopover, Brewster, not a party.”

“Hell, Shep, it’s not like I’m suggesting we all troop off to the nearest bar and tie one on. I just want to relax for a couple of hours tonight. You know, a few drinks, music, maybe some dancing. We can manage that right here, can’t we?”

The horse wrangler indicated the broad meadows out on the edge of town where the herd was placidly grazing. Samantha, watching Shep as he considered the request, thought how worn he looked, how much older than his years.

“Dick has a point,” Roark urged. “We could all use a bit of entertainment.”

He’s right, Samantha thought. Maybe a party would ease tempers. They’d gotten a little frayed on the trail, especially Alex and Ernie’s. She wondered again why Ernie resented Alex. Had he managed to overhear Alex telling them of his unsavory reputation in Austin? It seemed the likeliest explanation.

“All right,” Shep agreed, “but there’s to be no liquor at this shindig.”

“Aw, come on, we got to have beer at least. How can we celebrate the halfway point in the drive without beer?”

“You can have your beer, but I don’t want any hangovers in the morning. We’ve still got cows to move. And as far as celebrating goes, I intend doing that with a hot shower.”

Amen, Samantha thought, longing for a shower of her own. She had five days of grime to wash away, which her quick sponge baths on the trail had not adequately accomplished.

Leaving Cappy to mind the herd, they headed for the row of log cabins on the far side of the field. Shep had
arranged in advance for the overnight rental of three of the cabins, one of which was equipped with laundry facilities.

The outfit separated outside the cabins. Ramona was driving into town to stock up on fresh supplies. Dick elected to ride with her to buy the beer and snacks for their party. Ernie disappeared into the cabin he and his mother would share. Shep and Alex took the largest cabin, which Dick and Cappy would also use when it came time for their own turns under the shower. That left the third cabin for Samantha and Roark.

Unlocking the door with the key Shep had obtained for them from the office, Roark glanced inside to make certain the place was secure. Then he moved aside in the doorway, waiting for her to precede him into the cabin.

Samantha hesitated on the stoop. She couldn’t imagine why she should be nervous about going in there with him. It wasn’t as if any of the others were watching them with knowing smirks on their faces. Their own cabin doors were already closed behind them. Even Alex had accepted the arrangement without comment, realizing along with the rest of the outfit that Roark’s job was to safeguard her, and that meant they weren’t to be parted.

And, anyway, it hadn’t been decided that any of them would sleep in these cabins. They probably wouldn’t, Samantha thought. They’d spend the night out near the herd, just as they’d spent every night since the start of the drive. Maybe.

So why was she stalling? Because the thought of being alone with Roark Hawke inside a cozy log cabin, even if only for a few hours, conjured up intimate possibilities that put butterflies in her stomach?

“Problem?” Roark asked.

She glanced at him. The glint in his eyes told her he was amused by her sudden reluctance. She looked away, gazing in the direction of Lost Springs whose rooftops peeked through a belt of trees. “Just wondering about the
town,” she said in a hasty effort to cover her discomfort. “It must be pretty small.”

“Uh-huh.” Roark wasn’t deceived.

“Well, it’s so quiet.”

“Come back in the winter. I hear it comes to life then.” He pointed in the direction of lifts on the mountainside above the town, indicating that Lost Springs was a ski resort. “If we’re finished now with the local scene, can we go inside and strip for action?”

Samantha shot him a startled look.

“Showers, Samantha, remember?”

“Right.” She scooted past him, unable to avoid a brief though warm contact with his hard body in the doorway. She wondered if this, too, amused him.

By the time she turned around—after admiring a stone fireplace and trying not to mind that the room was furnished with only one bed—Roark had the door locked behind them and a security chain in place.

She needn’t have worried. He was all business. “You first,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “I’ve got a couple of calls to make.”

He was already on his way to the phone on the bedside table as Samantha, bag in hand, headed for the bathroom. She had never thought of plumbing as a luxury, but that’s exactly what it felt like as she stood under an invigorating spray, promising herself she would never take hot water for granted again.

When she emerged from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and wearing a fresh change of clothes, Roark was just putting the phone down.

“I talked to Wendell,” he reported, referring to his trainee back in San Antonio. “Nothing new. He’s still trying to find out about Ernie Chacon. Also called the copy center here. They have the material Wendell e-mailed me.” He glanced at his watch. “But the place is on the other side of town, which means I’ve got to hurry if I want to get there before they close.” He collected his gear and
moved toward the bathroom. “I hope you left me some hot water.”

Samantha was tempted to tell him that, at this point, maybe what they both needed were cold showers. What she said instead was very ordinary. “There’s plenty of hot water. In fact, there was so much of it that I opened the window in there to let out the steam.”

When the door had closed behind him, she remembered she had a blow dryer in her hand and a head of wet hair that needed her attention. There was a mirror above a chest of drawers, with a plug beside it. Within seconds, she was in business.

Samantha was in the final stages of drying her hair when her attention was captured by a movement outside the window reflected in the mirror. She swung around in time to see a figure slipping past the window. Brief though her glimpse was, it left her with an impression of stealth.

Switching off the dryer, she hurried across the room. By the time she reached the window and peered through the glass, the figure had reached the belt of trees that masked the town of Lost Springs. The light had dimmed into the early twilight of fall, but it was still possible to recognize that lanky figure.

It was Shep Thomas, and he wasn’t alone. Another shorter man joined him under the trees where they engaged in an earnest conversation. Even from this distance, Samantha could tell by the way Shep’s shoulders were slumped, his head lowered, that his mood was a morose one. He seemed to be pleading with the other man, who listened to him for a moment and then shook his head emphatically.

Samantha felt there was something furtive about their rapid exchange, something that the trail boss didn’t want his outfit to know about. Otherwise, why would Shep meet this stranger away from the cabins where they weren’t apt to be overheard or observed?

Her last glimpse of Shep before he strolled away
through the trees with his visitor, and the shadows swallowed them, was of a man who looked absolutely defeated.

Roark would certainly be interested in what she had just witnessed, Samantha thought, returning to the mirror to finish her hair. But her intention to share that scene with him was delayed by other events.

She was putting the last touches to her hair when she heard something outside the cabin. Or thought she heard it. She couldn’t be sure with the hum of the dryer in her ear. Not until she turned off the instrument was she certain of it. A roaring came from the other side of the front door. What in the—