Secluded With the Cowboy (4 page)

“And Butch?”

“He was murdered by Richter.”

Butch was dead. Jesse had been seriously injured. The violence depressed her. And she knew it wasn’t over. As long as Nate was at large, there would be more carnage.

Burke asked, “What happened after you talked to Dylan?”

“Everything got confused. They locked me in the trunk of a car. I tried to pay attention and figure out where we were going.”

“What did you notice?” Burke asked.

“The smell. I think we stopped at the gas station in Riverton. Silas O’Toole’s place.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Not until Nate came. He drove the car to his little house in Riverton and marched me inside. I was locked up in his closet. Gagged the whole time.”

The only positive thing about being stuck in a closet was that he let her come out and use the bathroom while he stood guard, gun in hand.

“After a day and a half, he took me back to the Circle M’s root cellar.”

“When you were at his house,” Burke said, “did you hear anything through the door?”

“I heard him on the phone.” She remembered his plain, ugly house. “He had toys for his son. A shiny red tricycle in the middle of the living room. And a new cowboy hat. Maybe they were supposed to be Christmas presents.”

“Did he mention his son?”

“He never spoke the child’s name, but he did talk about how sons need their fathers.” She remembered the whispery voice, eerie and creepy. “‘A boy needs someone to show him how to be a man.’ He said that more than once.”

Carolyn shuddered. “Is someone keeping an eye on Nate’s ex-wife and son?”

“Don’t worry. The sheriff is making sure that Belinda Miller is well protected.” Burke leaned forward. “Maintaining contact with his son gives Nate another reason to stay in this area.”

“I think we’ve got our answer about what Nate’s going to do next,” Dylan said. “He’s got a vendetta against us. He won’t quit until he gets even.”

“What do we do?”

“We wait,” Burke said. “It won’t be long. He’s got to be enraged about Nicole’s rescue. He’ll want to take action.”

Nicole didn’t want to think about Nate creeping around their property, hiding in the forests, biding his time. He was desperate for revenge. Somebody was going to get hurt.

As soon as she and Dylan returned to the bedroom, Nicole’s self-control began to crumble. She’d managed to tell the story of her kidnapping in broad strokes, leaving out the humiliating details. How could she ever speak of those things? The filth. Her screams into empty darkness. Her gnawing hunger.

It was better to bury those horrors under layers of silence, not telling even Dylan.
Especially not Dylan
. When he looked at her, she didn’t want him to see a victim—a helpless, terrified creature.

She sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap, hating the unassuaged fear that roiled inside her. Desperately she longed to forget the kidnapping, to erase every scrap of it from her memory.

Dylan sat beside her and wrapped his arm around her, cradling her with unusual tenderness, as if afraid that she’d shatter if he held her too tightly. Leaning her cheek against his chest, she whispered, “I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“Nightmares?”

“If I let my defenses down, I remember too much.” Her breath shuddered. “I might lose control.”

“You’re safe now, darlin’.” He stroked her hair. “You know I’ll take care of you. It’s going to be all right.”

Much as she wanted to believe him, her fears would not be so easily cured. Her nostrils flared as she remembered the stink of the dank, dark places where she’d been held captive.

In the creaking of the old ranch house, she heard echoes of mocking laughter. “Why does Nate hate us so much?”

Dylan tightened his embrace. His muscles tensed. “When I think of what that bastard did to you…” He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to relax. “I won’t let him hurt you. Not ever again.”

Downstairs, the front door slammed hard enough that they could hear it all the way up here in their bedroom. It sounded as if a herd of buffalo had charged inside. Someone called out Dylan’s name.

“I’d better see what they need,” Dylan said.

She understood that he was the boss, and the Carlisle Ranch was his responsibility. But she wanted his full attention tonight. When he stood, she rose to her feet beside him. “I’m coming with you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “You can rest.”

“Didn’t I just tell you that I don’t want to sleep? You never listen to me.” The familiar complaint sparked her anger. “Have you heard one word I’ve said?”

“I get it.” He glanced toward the door. “If you want me to stay here with you, that’s what I’ll do.”

She didn’t want to argue. “Go. But I’m coming with you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Together they went down the hallway and stood side by side on the staircase, looking down at two ranch
hands in gloves, cowboy hats and heavy jackets. Both wore guns on their hips. Both were out of breath.

“What’s up?” Dylan asked.

“Somebody cut the barbed wire on the south pasture. We got cattle running loose.”

Dylan’s tone was clipped. “Rouse anybody who’s sleeping in the bunkhouse and get on it.”

“What about the men who are standing guard?”

“They stay put,” he said. “The house needs to be secure.”

“Okay, boss.”

“You boys get started. I’ll be with you in a minute.” As the ranch hands went out the door, Dylan turned to her. “I need to see to this problem.”

“No,” she said.

He took her hand. “I’ll get Carolyn to stay with you. This shouldn’t be a big deal, and I—”

“You can’t go,” she said. “Cut wires on the south pasture? That’s deliberate sabotage. Remember what Burke said about Nate staying in this area until he takes his revenge? He cut that fence.”

“I reckon you’re right. But there’s close to three hundred cattle in the south field. I need to help.”

“Nate’s baiting you, trying to draw you outside.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “Please, stay here with me.”

“I’m not hiding from Nate Miller.”

His green eyes darkened. She’d always loved the clarity she saw in his gaze. Though Dylan was good at disguising the way he felt, his eyes were truly windows to his soul. She saw his determination, fire and strength. She knew that he was ready to go into battle. My God,
he was handsome. Her husband stood ready to protect her, to fight for her.

But right now she didn’t need a hero. “Listen to me. Please listen. If anything happens to you—”

“I can take care of myself.” His smile was fierce. “I’d welcome a showdown with that sorry son of a bitch.”

He made it sound as if this would be a fair fight, like a duel, with the two of them facing off. “Nate could be hiding in the forest with a rifle. He could pick you off before you know what’s happening. You could be dead before you have a chance to draw your gun.”

He leaned down and lightly kissed her forehead. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

As he descended the staircase, she watched. She was proud of his courage. But furious at the same time. Even now, after everything she’d been through, he brushed her warning aside. “Stubborn,” she muttered under her breath.

After blowing her a kiss, he strode out the door, plunging headlong into danger. She sank down on the staircase and slumped forward, exhausted. But she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Not while Dylan was in jeopardy.

From behind her, a gentle voice offered, “Shall I make tea?”

She turned her head and looked up at Andrea, Dylan’s mother—a woman she barely knew. Nicole stood on the stair and adjusted her robe. Politely, she said, “It’s nice to see you.”

In a mauve kimono-style robe with a striped pattern at the sleeves and hem, Andrea looked big-city sophisticated, even without makeup. She pulled Nicole into a hug. “Thank God you’re all right. I was so worried.”

“Thanks, Andrea.”

“I should be thanking you.” She linked arms with
Nicole and descended the staircase. “Until you came along, I’d pretty much lost contact with my son. You have no idea how much I appreciate the Christmas cards and birthday greetings that you send.”

Nicole hadn’t made a special effort. Keeping in touch with Andrea simply seemed like the right thing to do. “We’re family. Staying in touch is important.”

“I especially like the photos. My daughter in New York would love to come out here for a visit.”

“She’s welcome anytime.”

They entered the kitchen just as Carolyn and Burke stumbled out from the pantry. From the disheveled state of their clothing and their sheepish expressions, it was pretty obvious why they hadn’t run to answer the front door.

“What’s going on?” Carolyn demanded.

Her mother answered, “Some fencing was cut on the south pasture. Sabotage.”

“It’s got to be Nate Miller,” Burke said.

“Dylan has already gone running out there to help round up the cattle.” Andrea’s tone was authoritative. “I would appreciate it, Burke, if you went along to keep an eye on him. Carolyn, you stay here.”

“Why?” Carolyn was never one to accept orders without question.

Nicole said, “Because Nate wants revenge against the Carlisles.
The whole family
. You’d be a target.”

“She’s right,” Burke said, giving her a quick kiss. “I’ll take care of this. Maybe I can get your brother to put on a Kevlar vest.”

“Please do,” Nicole said. “A suit of body armor would be great.”

If anything happened to Dylan, she didn’t think she
could stand it. He was stubborn, inattentive and arrogant. But he was still her husband.

D
YLAN RODE
with Burke across the field behind the horse barn toward the south pasture—a fenced area that had been the site of prior sabotage before Nicole was kidnapped. His schedule of rotating the two thousand head of Carlisle cattle on land they owned and land they leased had gotten out of whack. Now that Nicole was home, he could get back to the serious business of ranching. It wasn’t going to be easy. His foreman, Lucas Mann, had been killed when the ransom was delivered.

Thinking of that death, he cringed inside, still unable to believe that Lucas—a trusted employee of many years—had betrayed the family by helping the Sons of Freedom. Nicole would be heartbroken when he told her. She’d probably insist on handling the funeral in spite of Lucas’s treachery.

Dylan scanned the familiar terrain. The night had gotten cold. A brisk wind chased clouds across the moon in a portent of the snowfall that was predicted for tomorrow. He slowed his horse to a walk. From here, they could cut through the forest where—as Nicole had suggested—Nate Miller could be hiding with his rifle. That was the route Dylan wanted to take; he wanted a confrontation.

“This way,” he said to Burke.

“We should stick to the road.”

“I like the trees.” He tugged at the uncomfortable bulletproof vest Burke insisted he wear.

“You like the idea of finding Nate and getting into a shoot-out,” Burke said. “Can’t say that I blame you. But if you get yourself shot, Carolyn will kick my butt. That’s why we need to take the safer route.”

After a longing glance toward the dark forest, Dylan conceded and turned toward the road. “Let’s suppose that Nate cut the fence to draw me out here, and he’s planning an ambush.”

“Damn likely scenario,” Burke muttered.

“What’s the best way to handle it?”

“Do the opposite of what seems natural.”

“The opposite?” If Dylan hadn’t respected Burke’s talent for strategy, he would have laughed out loud. “You’re going to have to explain.”

“An ambush is a lure,” Burke said. “You’re Nate’s target. He wants to make you come to him.”

“So if I see the flash of gunfire or hear a shot, I shouldn’t respond by riding toward it.”

“Right,” Burke said. “Because that’s what he expects you to do.”

“I should back down.” He hated the idea, but it made sense. “Our advantage is in numbers. There are a lot of us and only one of him. We should go after him carefully. Make sure we cut off his escape.”

“You got it,” Burke said.

They approached the far edge of the field, close to Fiona Grant’s property. Not only had the barbed wire been cut, but the fencing was peeled back between two posts, allowing the cattle an easy exit.

Tomorrow morning, a portion of this herd was destined to be removed to the slaughterhouse in Delta, and these Black Angus cattle seemed to anticipate their fate. There was a lot of bawling, as if the animals were encouraging each other to make a break. More than fifty had already ambled through the gap in the fence and were moving down the road.

Dylan was surprised to see Jesse Longbridge helping
his cowboys round up the cattle. Jesse was staying at Fiona’s house to protect her and her five-year-old daughter. He rode toward them and reined his horse. “What the hell are you doing out here, Dylan?”

“Ranching. This is my business.”

“My business is keeping you safe,” he said. “Don’t make my job harder. I’ll escort you back to the house.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Never in his life had Dylan run from a fight. “Shouldn’t you be keeping an eye on Fiona and her little girl?”

“One of my men is at her house, making sure that Nate doesn’t get close.”

Nate Miller had good reason to hate Jesse. It had been his skill at tracking and his insight that had led them to find Nicole and recover most of the ransom money.

“I’m not going home,” Dylan said.

“Fine.” Jesse exchanged a glance with Burke, then maneuvered his horse around.

Dylan was flanked by a federal agent on one side and a professional bodyguard on the other. Plus, he was wearing a bulletproof vest. “Good thing I’m not claustrophobic,” he said.

“This is how it’s going to be until we get you to safety.” Jesse drew his rifle and held it at the ready.

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “Are you any good with that?”

“I’m a former marine, a sharpshooter. Is that good enough for you?”

One of the escaped steers plodded toward them. A big, broad Angus—fifteen hundred pounds of premium, grass-fed beef on the hoof—stood in the middle of the road and glared at the men on horseback. He lifted his head and mooed.

“I think he wants us to move,” Burke said. “Moo-oo-oove.”

“You’ve been hanging around my sister too much,” Dylan said. “Cattle don’t talk.”

In the distance, he saw the headlights of an approaching vehicle. Whoever it was would have to be patient or take a different route.

When a second steer joined the first, Dylan’s horse, Orbison, shifted his weight. In his younger days, Orbison had competed in rodeos as a cutting horse. When he saw cattle running free, the horse’s instinct was to get them organized.

But there wasn’t much herding Dylan could do with these two men protecting him as though he was made of glass. And, to tell the truth, the other four ranch hands seemed to be doing a good job of moving the herd back into the field. “Might as well head back,” he grumbled.

As he wheeled around on Orbison, he heard the sharp crack of a rifle.