Man on a Mission (5 page)

Perfect timing, he thought as he hurried toward them. When he reached them, April had opened the trunk and was beginning to unload the bags.

“Here, I'll do that.” He threw his packages into
one corner of the trunk, then began to unload the shopping cart.

“You should see all the good stuff Mom bought,” Brian said, dancing around Mark like a young colt with too much energy. “She bought frozen pizzas and cookies and chips.”

“Hmm, sounds good,” Mark said.

“And she bought chopped meat and said I could make hamburgers one night. Maybe you could eat dinner with us and taste my specialty burgers.” The boy's need was in his eyes, the need to connect, and it was fierce in its hunger.

“Maybe,” Mark replied without commitment, realizing he definitely needed to put some distance between him and them. Brian's hunger was too great, and Mark definitely wasn't the man to fulfill the young boy's needs. Whatever Brian was looking for in his life, whatever April might be seeking, Mark wasn't the answer and never would be.

“Mark Delaney!”

The familiar feminine voice worked like cat claws on a blackboard, shooting irritation straight up his spine. He straightened from the trunk and eyed the attractive red-haired woman bearing down on them.

Molly Weiser. Mark stifled a groan. Of all the people in this world, there were two Mark hated coming face-to-face with—the first was Molly, followed closely by the devil himself.

“Mark, darling.”

Before he could successfully weave and dodge, he found himself embraced in a cloud of honeysuckle perfume, large silicon breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

“Molly…” He pulled her away from him and pointed to April. “This is my friend April and her son, Brian.”

“Hi, I'm April Cartwright. I'm working for the Delaneys,” April said.

“Indeed.” Molly's eyes narrowed into suspicious slits. She looked to Mark and back to April. “And from all appearances, you're a fast worker.”

April's friendly smile faltered, and Mark wanted to throttle Molly, who turned back to Mark and grabbed his hand. “Darling, I've been wanting to see you since all the trouble, but that dreadful older brother of yours is quite off-putting. I've heard some stories that have had me worried sick about you.”

“I'm fine.” Mark pulled his hand from hers and grinned like a loony fool. “How are you?”

Molly's brow wrinkled with concern, and he could see the wheels turning in her head. He knew what stories she'd probably heard—that he was addle brained—and he also knew she was weighing her options.

Molly was determined to marry a Delaney. She'd initially set her sights on Matthew, but when he refused to respond to her advances, she'd honed in on Mark. She'd been pursuing him for months. Now Mark was certain she was trying to decide if half a Delaney might not be just as good as a whole Delaney.

“We have to go,” he said to nobody in particular, just feeling the need to escape Molly's cloying presence.

“I'll call you, Mark,” Molly said. To Mark's ears
it sounded more threat than promise. “You owe me a dinner date.”

Mark loaded the last bag into the trunk and slammed the lid. As Molly wiggled her fingers goodbye, Mark, April and Brian got into the car.

For a long moment nobody spoke. April pulled out of the parking space and headed the car back toward the ranch.

Brian broke the silence. “She had the biggest ones I've ever seen.”

“Brian!” April exclaimed in protest, although Mark thought he saw a glimmer of laughter in her big green eyes.

“She bought them,” Mark replied. “She went to Tucson on vacation and came back three weeks later with big ones.”

“Wow,” Brian exclaimed as if the notion of women buying breasts was difficult to wrap his mind around. To tell the truth, it had always been difficult for Mark to understand.

“She should have bought a T-shirt or an ashtray instead,” Mark observed.

A giggle escaped April, the sound wonderfully feminine and appealing. “When I was little and we went on vacation, I collected bells.”

“I don't have any collections 'cause I've never been anywhere,” Brian put in mournfully.

“You're young. You've got plenty of time for collections,” Mark replied. He noticed April looking at him curiously and realized he'd been talking far too much.

As they approached the ranch, Mark drew into himself, his thoughts turning to Marietta and what infor
mation she might have had that had gotten her killed. Something was amiss at the Delaney Dude Ranch, but Mark had yet to discover exactly what it was. Every day that passed without answers only managed to feed his frustration.

The investigation into Marietta's death and Mark's injuries had been desultory at best by Sheriff Broder, who'd decided it was a crime of jealous rage perpetrated by a ranch hand who had subsequently disappeared.

Mark hadn't told the sheriff what Marietta had shared with him. Her warning that it was possible the sheriff might be involved kept him mute where the specifics were concerned.

In two weeks the ranch would be jumping with guests, making his search for Marietta's killer more complicated. And still he had nothing to go on concerning what activity Marietta had been talking about. He was beginning to wonder if his act was all for nothing.

“So, Mark, what are we going to do when we get back to the ranch?” Brian's voice broke through Mark's thoughts, and again Mark felt the boy's hunger. “Maybe you could teach me to lasso?”

“Can't,” Mark replied. “I have stuff to do this afternoon. You're on your own for the rest of the day.”

He tried not to allow the boy's disappointment to touch him. He had his own problems to deal with. He absolutely, positively refused to get caught up in April and Brian Cartwright.

“Brian, you can't be bothering Mark all the time,”
April told her son gently. “I'm sure he has more important things to do than teach you to throw a rope.”

“Maybe tomorrow,” Mark said, hating the fact that despite his intentions, something in the boy's eyes got to him.

“Great,” Brian agreed eagerly.

When they arrived at the cottage, April opened the trunk and handed Mark his packages. “Thanks, Mark, for the town tour and all your help.”

He nodded and pulled the hat from his bag. “Brian.” He tossed the boy the black hat.

Brian caught it with both hands, his eyes widening as he realized what he held. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “A hat just like yours.” In three long strides, he reached Mark and wrapped his arms awkwardly around Mark's waist.

“Thanks, Mark.” Brian stepped away from him, his cheeks pinkened as if his display of affection had embarrassed him.

Mark turned to walk away, trying to ignore the sun-burst of warmth in the pit of his stomach.

“Mark.”

He paused and turned back to April. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He was rewarded by a smile from her that warmed him down to his toes and twisted something deep in his gut.

He suddenly realized he had to be careful. For some reason this woman and her son had the potential of touching him where he'd sworn he would never be touched again.

A
s April made her way from her cottage to the main house for her noon appointment with Matthew Delaney, her heart still retained the warmth evoked by Mark's generosity.

It had been a very long time since any man had shown April any act of kindness or benevolence. Mark's gift of the hat to Brian, his gift of easy smiles and camaraderie to April, made her almost believe there were good men out there.

She'd almost forgotten that there were men who could be trusted, men who would never dream of taking advantage of a woman, men who didn't know how to be dishonest or deceitful.

She thought of the red-haired woman they'd met in town. Molly something. She was extremely pretty but had a predatory hardness in her eyes when she'd gazed at Mark. The woman had implied a relationship with him, but had mentioned trouble.

What trouble? Perhaps she'd been talking about the death of Adam Delaney?

April had been oddly disappointed to realize Mark might have a relationship with the woman. The look in Molly's eyes had made a protective streak surge up inside April where Mark was concerned.

She wasn't sure where that feeling came from or, in truth, if it was really protectiveness or an odd pang of jealousy.

She certainly wasn't looking for a relationship with any man and she had no idea of the extent of Mark's mental disability. But whatever the disability, it certainly didn't steal away from his attractiveness as a vital, sexy man.

She couldn't help the way the warmth of his smile shot electric currents through her, how the strength in the rippling muscles and width of his shoulders made her want to melt into his embrace.

Dismissing thoughts of Mark, she stepped up on the porch of the main house and knocked on the door. Matthew answered, his stern features forbidding as he ushered her into an office off the entryway.

He stepped behind a large, wooden desk and gestured her to the chair in front of him. She eased down, wondering how two brothers could look so much alike yet be so different. Mark was warmth and laughter, but Matthew Delaney appeared cold and stern.

“Since we last spoke I found the letter from you to my father, and a copy of his letter to you detailing the terms of your employment,” Matthew said as he sat behind the desk. “I assume those terms are still agreeable?”

“Yes.”

“As I said last night, I can't make any long-term promises to you concerning employment.” His eyes darkened. “I have no idea what the future holds for the Delaney Dude Ranch. However, should we have to breach the contract, you will receive the severance pay detailed in my father's letter.”

April nodded and sighed inwardly with relief. “I'll work for you as long as you need me.” She'd take whatever she could get in an attempt to get back on her feet financially.

He nodded and pulled a large manila folder from a drawer. “Here is the file of the former social director. She kept quite extensive notes and had many plans in the works. We open to a full crowd in two weeks. I'll expect a detailed, workable plan from you in a week.” He handed her the thick file.

“The most important thing for you to remember is that it's your job to see that every person who comes here is accommodated with fun things to do. You'll need to set up activities for children, young couples and older people.”

April nodded, undaunted by the task ahead of her. She'd done much the same kind of work at the hotel where she'd worked previously. He returned her nod, and she realized it was a dismissal. She stood and started for the door.

“Ms. Cartwright?”

She paused in the doorway and turned back to him.

“Stay away from my brother.”

“Excuse me?” She frowned, wondering if she hadn't heard him correctly.

“Stay away from Mark.” Matthew eyed her coldly. “I understand from your letter to my father that
you've been through some bad times. It would be natural for you to see Mark as the answer to your financial problems. My brother is vulnerable and he has obviously taken a liking to you, but I won't have him toyed with or hurt.”

“I have no intention of doing either,” April replied with a touch of coolness to her own voice.

“See that you don't.” He broke his gaze with her and focused on the paperwork on his desk. Again April realized she'd been dismissed.

“Pompous ass,” April muttered beneath her breath as she headed for the front door. Imagine him even thinking that somehow she was setting Mark up, that she'd assessed him as weak and wealthy and might try to take advantage of that fact.

April gripped the folder more tightly against her chest, indignation sweeping through her. As if she could ever do to somebody else what had been done to her.

She swung open the door and smacked into a person coming in. “Oh…sorry,” she exclaimed to the dapper man in a light blue suit.

“Quite all right,” he replied, a friendly smile dancing his gray mustache upward. “Walter Tilley.” He held out a hand to her. “Family friend and lawyer to the Delaneys. And you must be the new social director, April Cartwright.”

“Yes, I am.” She shook his hand, then he stepped out on the porch with her.

“Matthew told me about you yesterday evening, and Mark's mentioned your name several times. It's good to have you on the team.”

She tried not to imagine what Matthew Delaney
had said about her to the lawyer. At least Walter Tilley appeared friendly enough. “Thank you, it's nice to be part of the team.”

Walter smoothed his mustache with the tip of his index finger. “Damn shame about what happened to Marietta.”

“Marietta?”

“Marietta Lopez. She was the former social director.” One of Walter's gray-speckled eyebrows raised. “Nobody told you what happened to her?”

April shook her head. “I just assumed she quit.”

“She was murdered.”

April gasped, a cold wind blowing inside her. “Murdered?”

Walter nodded. “It was the same night Mark received his injuries.” April stared at him blankly, and Walter emitted a dry chuckle. “I shouldn't be surprised that nobody has told you. The Delaneys don't talk to many people. They barely talk to each other.”

“So, what happened?”

“Nobody is certain. Apparently Mark and Marietta met near the barn one night, and somebody hit them both over the head with a shovel. Marietta died and Mark sustained severe head injuries.”

Severe head injuries. So that explained what had happened to Mark and must have been the trouble Molly had mentioned. A wave of compassion swept through April, along with the horror of the entire situation. “Did they find out who did it?”

Walter frowned. “Sadly, no. Although the speculation is that perhaps one of the ranch hands who'd developed a liking for Marietta committed the horrible crime.” Walter shook his head. “Terrible tragedy
and followed so closely by Adam's heart attack and death.”

April's ill feelings toward Matthew were tempered by this new knowledge of the string of tragedies that had affected the family.

And Mark… What had he been like before suffering such a dreadful crime? Were the injuries he'd suffered to his brain permanent?

Walter looked at his gold watch. “I'd better get inside. I have a meeting with Matthew, and he likes punctuality.” He offered her another friendly smile. “It was nice meeting you.”

“You, too.”

As April headed toward her cottage, her mind whirled with the information she'd just gained. A vicious murder, and a man left damaged. So Mark's gorgeous eyes had not always held the vagueness, his smile had not always been so wide and innocent.

A wave of heat suffused her as she tried to imagine Mark before the tragedy. The image weakened her knees.

She was already finding him far too attractive…and intriguing…in those several times when she'd seen an odd glint in his eyes that spoke of secrets, an astuteness that belied his injury.

She entered the cottage and set the thick file down on the table. “Brian?”

“I'm in here,” his voice wafted from his bedroom.

She entered the small room and found him unpacking the boxes that held all his earthly possessions. He'd already hung several posters on the wall using thumbtacks they'd bought that morning, and his
clothes were hanging in the closet. “Looks like you've been busy while I was gone,” she said.

He pulled several books from one of the boxes that were still full. “Yeah. It feels more like home with all my stuff around. You should unpack your stuff, too.”

She realized he'd feel better if she unpacked and nested, so to speak. It'd give him a sense of permanency. “Maybe I'll do that this evening. Right now I have work to do. You want some lunch?”

“Nah, I'm okay. I made myself a sandwich while you were gone.”

“Okay, I'll be at the table if you need anything.” April left her son to his own form of nesting and settled in at the table to look over the former social director's file.

Marietta Lopez had apparently been meticulous in keeping notes of what planned activities worked and didn't work for the guests. April got out a pad and as she read, began to make notes of her own.

It was after two when Brian left his room and sat at the table across from April. “I think I'll go find Mark,” he said.

“I don't think that's a good idea,” April responded. Matthew's warning still rang in her ears. “Mark said he had things to do this afternoon. You can see him in the morning when you go to work at the stables.”

Brian sighed and drew in a breath, but before he could voice whatever he'd intended to say, there was a knock at the door.

April answered, with Brian right at her heels. A woman and a boy about Brian's age stood at the door.
“Hi, I'm Doreen Kincheloe and this is my son, Ricky.” Ricky raised a hand in greeting. “I'm the housekeeper here, and Ricky and I live in cottage one.”

“Hi, I'm April Cartwright and this is Brian.”

The woman smiled with friendliness. “Ricky saw Brian and insisted we come over and introduce ourselves. He was so excited to discover somebody close to his age.”

“How old are you?” Brian asked Ricky.

“Almost eleven.”

“I'm almost twelve,” Brian replied.

“I've got a remote-control car,” Ricky said. “You wanna come out and run it with me?”

Brian looked at his mother for assent. “Go on, but stay right around here,” April said. Before the words were fully out of her mouth, the two boys darted away. April smiled at Doreen. “How about a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.” Doreen stepped into the cottage and sat at the table while April cleared away her papers and went to make the coffee. “I can't tell you how happy we were to see you and Brian moving in. The dark months are hard on Ricky, especially now with school out and no kids his age around.”

April grabbed two cups from the cupboard. “Have you worked here long?”

“Five years. But with Mr. Delaney's death I was beginning to worry that I'd have to find a new job.” She swept a strand of her long, dark hair behind her shoulders. “I hear through the grapevine that you've been hired as the new social director.”

“That's right, although I don't think Matthew is
particularly pleased to have me here. I was originally hired by Adam Delaney, and I seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot with Matthew.”

Doreen smiled. “With Matthew that's not difficult to do. I think most people irritate him. So, what was your offense?”

April paused a moment to pour them each a cup of coffee, then joined Doreen at the table. “He thinks I might try to take advantage of Mark in some way.”

“Ah.” Doreen sipped her coffee, then shook her head ruefully. “Mark doesn't need protection. You heard about what happened to him?”

“Just a little while ago. I met Walter Tilley, who told me what happened.”

Doreen flashed a quick smile. “I wouldn't mind taking advantage of Mark. He's quite a hunk.” Her teasing smile faded. “It's sad to talk to him now, to see him having to concentrate so hard.”

“What was he like before?” April leaned forward, vaguely surprised to discover such interest in anything she could glean about Mark.

“Of all the Delaneys, Mark was the most approachable. It was usually Mark who the help went to talk to if they had a problem, knowing he was more apt to listen than Matthew.” Doreen paused to take another sip of the coffee. “Mark was quick-witted and lively and genuinely nice. He's still really nice.”

“Yes, he is,” April agreed, a flutter of warmth sweeping through her as she thought of him.

“It just takes him longer to process things now. I wouldn't ask him to help Ricky with his geometry homework, but then I can't help Ricky with geometry homework.”

April laughed, then sobered. “I understand they haven't solved the crime. Do you have any idea who is responsible?”

Doreen took another sip of her coffee. “Nobody has been arrested, although it's sort of the general consensus among the help that it was probably Lenny Boles, a ranch hand who was crazy jealous over Marietta. She was a gorgeous young woman, and she loved to flirt. She had half the cowboys around here in a dither, trying to win her affections.”

“Did the sheriff investigate that possibility?” April didn't like the idea of working at a place where a murderer might be running around free.

“Yeah, but I haven't heard what has happened with the investigation. Lenny Boles wasn't working here for very long before the night of the murder, and the next day he disappeared. I think he probably saw Mark and Marietta together, flew into a jealous rage, then raced for the border and is now somewhere in Mexico.”

April sat back in her chair and considered Doreen's speculation. Horrifying, senseless…and yet all too conceivable.

“Enough of this sad talk,” Doreen exclaimed.