Gambling on a Secret (18 page)

The sun had set and daylight was fading fast. Calves bawled in the distance and night insects chirped in the grass. A coyote howled somewhere in the descending darkness. Artie snorted and he checked for the .357 stashed in the belt of his jeans at his back. “Sorry, girl, I should’ve taken one of the four-wheelers out here.”

They’d plodded along another hundred yards when he noticed the outlines lying in the tall grass.

“Whoa.” He reined in beside one of the dark lumps. After dismounting, he patted the nervous horse on the shoulder. “It’s all right, Artie.”

The calf lay on his side, attempted to lift his head and bawled pitifully as Dylan knelt beside him. Big, dark eyes rolled back in the calf’s skull. “Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?” He gently placed his hand on the steer’s heaving, bloated belly. It struggled to breathe, coat damp with sweat. “Hang in there. I’ll get you help.”

He stood and examined the other ten calves lying in the grass. Some seemed unusually agitated while others panted like dogs in the dead of August heat, but the evening was cool for this time in mid-May.

Although he didn’t hold much hope for the steers, he pulled out his cellphone and called the veterinarian, then dialed Kyle’s number. When he didn’t pick up, Dylan left a frustrated message, and then called Zack Cartwright.

* * * *

“Sir! Sir, you can’t barge into the dining...”

Dylan ignored the maitre d’ just as he’d paid no attention to the man’s reprimands for not having the proper dress when he rushed into the exclusive hotel and restaurant. He didn’t want to think about the place being a hotel, and prayed Charli was still eating her fancy dinner.

Leon had flown her to Dallas in his private helicopter, but that was over three hours ago. Dylan hadn’t actually considered the time until he pulled into the parking lot and threatened the valet when he warned him he couldn’t park his truck in the lot unless he had reservations at the inn.

Every head in the place turned to stare at him as he rushed through a glitzy dining room. Several women even gasped and covered their mouths with bejeweled hands. Did his dirty cowboy boots and jeans disgust them?

When he didn’t spot Charli among the late diners, he turned on the frail-looking man following him. “Where’s Leon Ferguson?”

“That’s privileged information–”

“Don’t give me that bullsh–” He interrupted himself when another round of gasps filled the air thick with expensive perfumes and rich foods. It wouldn’t do to be arrested before he even found her. He forced a semblance of cold reason and the authority thirteen years in the Army had bestowed on him into his voice. “I’m the manager of the ranch Mr. Ferguson’s companion owns. There’s an emergency. I need to speak to Miss Monroe immediately.”

The maitre d’ still hesitated. When Dylan wouldn’t budge, the penguin suit relented with a sigh. “This way.”

He followed him down a hall to the private dining rooms. They stopped before an ornate double door, and he didn’t wait to be announced. He pushed past the maitre d’ and headed into the room.

The intimate ambiance spoke of Leon’s wealth and success. Dylan ignored the string quartet playing soft music in the corner, the flowers and the candles. Leon stood and glowered at him, while Charli sat there with wide eyes and her mouth hanging slightly ajar.

The penguin rushed in behind him and groveled to Leon about the interruption of his dinner.

He ignored both men. “Charli, I need to speak with you.”

“What are you doing here?” Leon asked stiffly.

She blinked and closed her mouth. He realized, with a jolt, she didn’t look disappointed or even angry at seeing him. She seemed surprised mostly, and then he noticed a hopeful twinkle in her turquoise eyes.

You’re crazy, Quinn. She’s not glad to see you. She’s thinking of ways to fire your ass.
He got down to business. “You have to come home.”

She frowned. “How did you know where to find me?”

He swallowed the thick lump forming in his throat. “I overheard you talking the other night.”

“What’s so important you couldn’t have called?”

“I didn’t want to call about this. The calves...”

“My calves? Dylan, what’s happened?”

He kneeled beside her chair. She might not have named the steers, but she cared about her calves. He’d caught her watching them play in the pastures more than once. “Some of them are sick. We think they were poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” Her voice went shrill and then broke. “How?” She swallowed and puckered her brow. “Who’s
we
?”

He took her hand into his. Her grasp was moist as she clasped his fingers. “Dr. Evans, the vet, thinks they got hold of some jimsonweed.”

“Jimsonweed?” She turned in her chair to face him fully. “I thought it was some kind of hallucinogen drug.”

He took her other hand and held both of them as they trembled within his. “It is. Or can be used as one. Sometimes it’s called thorn apple or devil’s trumpet. If livestock eat enough, it could kill them.” He squeezed her hands, willed her his support. “Charli, your horse, Aurora–”

“Is she sick, too?” Her eyes misted, but she blinked before the tears splashed onto her pale cheeks. She wore very little makeup, but then, she didn’t need it.

“Yeah.” He would tell her later about Doc Evan’s prognosis concerning the mare’s new pregnancy.

“Kyle never said anything after feeding the horses today. Where could my calves and horses get this stuff?”

Leon had stood quietly watching them until now. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “Usually in pasture, especially overgrazed pasture. The other place is in feed–silage and hay.”

Charli looked over her shoulder at Leon. “But my pastures aren’t overgrazed.”

“Hay, then.”

“The hay you bought last week.” She snapped her attention to Dylan. The accusation in her gaze and voice stung more than he’d ever admit.

He could only nod and looked down at their clasped hands.

“But the calves haven’t been fed much hay, have they?”

“Not much, but with all the rain the past week, some of the better pastures are too wet. I had Kyle supplement with hay.”

The dark green of the sheath dress made her eyes all the more luminous. Candlelight twinkled off the diamond necklace around her neck. He was sure she hadn’t been wearing it earlier when he’d seen her before she’d left in Ferguson’s limousine.

“I have to get back to the ranch.” She stood and looked at Leon. He slipped his hand around her waist.

The large ruby signet on his ring finger glittered in the yellow glow of hundreds of candles. The ring had been passed down for generations in the Ferguson family and by all rights should belong to his mother. The sight angered him, but not as much as Leon touching Charli fired his gut. Possessiveness for her boiled through him.

She looked up at Leon, but didn’t step away. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Of course, we can leave immediately.” Leon retrieved his phone from his suit pocket. “Let me call the driver to meet us and have the helicopter ready for takeoff.”

Dylan had broken every speed law between Colton and Dallas to get there in an hour and a half. Leon could have her home within a few minutes.

He headed for the door. “I’ll see you back at the ranch.”

“No. Dylan, wait.”

He turned, and she stepped out of Leon’s embrace. Charli took Leon’s hand and smiled, but it looked forced. “Thank you, Leon, for a wonderful evening. But I’ll go home with Dylan. After all, he came all the way into the city to inform me of the emergency, and on the way back, he can tell me what we need to do to fix it.”

“Hopefully we can have dinner again,” Leon said pleasantly, sliding the phone away.

Dylan jerked his head up at the challenge in the older man’s eyes when Leon glanced at him.

“Yes, I hope so, too. I had a great time.” Charli turned to Dylan and took his hand. “Let’s go.”

“Charli,” Leon called, and she paused to look at him. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll do whatever I can.”

“I’ll call you. Thanks for everything.” She touched the necklace at her throat.

Dylan’s heart sank a little farther. He’d never be able to afford such a gift. He tried to let her hand go, but she clung to it as she tugged him through the door.

He led her to the old pickup that looked as out of place in the parking lot as he had in the dining room where she had sparkled as much as the crystal.

Chapter 9

Neither Dylan nor Charli spoke much during the drive home. He waited for her to ask him how any of this could happen, but she never did. As soon as they pulled into the driveway, she asked, “Who took care of my sick animals while you came to Dallas?”

He parked the truck in front of the garage. “When I couldn’t get hold of Kyle, I called Zack Cartwright.”

“The sheriff? Do you think someone did this to my animals?”

He hoped she didn’t fuss about him not calling Ferguson’s men. “No, I guess you could say I asked Zack to help us out. He’s your neighbor, too. Did you forget you share a four-mile boundary with the Cartwrights?”

She shook her head.

He cut the engine, leaned against the steering wheel, and stared out into the darkness. “I needed someone to move the calves in closer to the barn while I came to you. I trust Zack and his men. The sick ones are quarantined in the barn corral, and the others are in the pasture behind the bunkhouse where I can watch them for signs of sickness.”

“Have any of them died?”

He met her imploring eyes. “Not yet.”

“But you think some will.”

“I don’t know.”

She got out of the truck and headed for the stable despite the shimmery cocktail dress and sky-high shoes.

He’d bet her outfit had a price tag at well over a thousand dollars. He caught up with her. “What are you doing?”

“I’m checking on my horses.” She looked up at him. “How’s this going to affect Aurora’s pregnancy?”

He slid his gaze from hers.

“Dylan?”

“Doc Evans expects her to abort.”

A single fluorescent light burned in the breezeway of the stable. The three healthy horses flicked their ears and nickered a curious hello.

Aurora’s stall was empty. Charli turned to him. “Where is she?”

“In the corral. The best thing for her is to walk. If she lies down, she probably won’t get back up.”

She immediately headed out the other door into the corral, and he followed. Zack Cartwright led Aurora around the outside of the rail fence. The horse would stop, paw at the dirt and shake her head, but he’d tug on her lead to force her to keep moving. When Zack noticed them, he led the mare over to the door.

“How is she?” Charli rubbed her hand along the horse’s sweat-dampened neck. Aurora tossed her head.

Zack patted the mare’s shoulder. “She’s getting tired. Doc gave her a shot of Banamine and said she should start calming down in about an hour or so. Now, we just wait for the poison to work out of her system. He doesn’t think she had enough to kill her, but she’s colicky.” When the sorrel dropped to her forelegs to lie down, Zack tugged on the line. “Oh, no, girl, we need to walk.”

Dylan reached for the lead. “I’ll take over, Zack. Thanks, buddy, for coming out.”

Zack relinquished the rein and patted the mare’s shoulder again. “I’m glad I was off duty and could help.”

Charli stopped stroking the mare’s neck as he led her away. “Yes, thank you. I have no idea how I can repay you.”

“Promise me when you decide to buy more horses, the CW gets your business, and we’ll call it even.”

“You’ve got a deal. I still feel bad, though. Where’s your little girl?”

“She’s with my mother. Don’t you worry, ma’am.” Zack glanced back at him and the mare. “Aurora’s a strong horse. Her sire and dam were good horses. She’ll be all right.”

After Zack bid them a good night, Charli stumbled over the rough dirt to Dylan and the mare in her crazy strappy shoes. The floodlight cast the area in a harsh blue-white light. Mindless of her expensive dress and high-heels, she fell into step with him.

He pointed to her shoes. “You’re going to break your neck in those things.”

She stroked the mare’s neck as they moved along the fence with the horse’s head between them. “I’m used to waking in heels.”

“Not in dirt and horseshit, you’re not. Go change. I’ll keep walking.”

She hesitated for a moment and rubbed the restless mare’s shoulder. “Okay, I’ll be back.”

She picked her way over the rutted ground in those stilts she called shoes. How the hell she walked in those things was beyond him.

Ten minutes later, she returned wearing jeans, a t-shirt and boots. Now, she looked like she belonged in a barnyard. He hadn’t expected the intense twist of desire tying him up into knots so tight he ached.

She took her place on the other side of the mare’s head. “How much longer do you think we should walk her?”

“Until all signs of the stomachache pass. Another hour at least. Here.” He handed her the lead. “I’m going to call the rancher who sold the hay.”