Suspicions of the Heart (2 page)

"What?" Quirking a brow curiously, she
whipped about again to face him.

"Your horse has some kind of puncture
wound. That's why he's wearing a horse boot now. But that bull,
that's another story. Someone let him loose in the arena. That
should never have happened. He was enclosed in a chute. White Demon
is one of the meanest bulls they have. That was no
accident."

Candy's eyes widened. She hadn't given
Lancer a moment's worry since the accident. But the bull...she
could still see those eyes turning blood red, and hear the stomping
of that hoof. She usually didn't act so scattered, but the fall
must have shaken her more than she cared to admit.

"Someone intentionally did this? Is
that what you are trying to say?"

"Not trying, I'm saying, someone let
that bull loose. Your Uncle and I both thought so. The horse will
mend, but you might not have."

He removed his saddle from the platform
of the trailer and took it inside.

When had he talked to her Uncle? When
had he had the time? That fall must have done things to her; she
was downright fuzzy in her thinking.

"You think someone…?"

He ignored her, gathering his gear and
stowing it, then guiding his bay inside the trailer. She hung her
head, her bare toe making a shape in the loose dirt. She didn't
like what this cowboy was suggesting, but she couldn't ignore her
own conclusion about that bull.

He moved to stand in front of her, then
with barely a touch of his finger he lifted her chin and smiled
into her face. His touch electrified her awareness of him. She
didn't want to be electrified, but darn if she could stop
herself.

She held her breath.

"I wouldn't worry. It looks like
someone wants to scare you more than anything," he said.

"Scare me?" she barely managed. "But
why? I don't believe it."

"Suit yourself." He shrugged
negligently and moved away.

"You must be mistaken. I
mean--who?"

"Maybe I'm wrong. Hope so."

She couldn't think straight. The man
had an irritating way of knocking all sensible thoughts from her
mind. "You knew my father, didn't you?"

He shot her a curious glance over his
shoulder, then smiled that sexy grin. "Yes ma'am. I was sorry to
hear about him, too. He was quite a character."

His voice trailed away when he looked
at her again. It was almost as though he sensed that inner pain she
held on to so tightly. His intrusion into her private emotions
wasn't welcome.

She had tried not to think about her
father's untimely death. But the mere mention of him had her
stomach rolling. Death was not a commodity to be dealt with as far
as Candy was concerned. It was much too permanent.

"Thank you."

"I liked him." Joe offered almost as an
apology, then turned away and checked his tack. "Didn't agree with
him on a lot of things, but he was a very likable man."

When she followed him, facing him each
time he turned, he glanced at her once more. "I'm glad you're all
right, Candy."

His voice mesmerized her. Still, the
man was a puzzle and she didn't like puzzles!

"Goodnight, Joe Munroe," she said, and
she willed her legs to carry her away from his disturbing presence.
It was like pulling metal from a magnet, as though some dark force
wanted her to stay and hear more.

It went beyond comprehension why a
stranger should have such an effect on her. She blamed it on the
heroic deed. He had quite literally saved her from a near death.
What girl in her right mind wouldn't be impressed?

She headed for the back pasture, and
whistled for Lancer, then crossed the barbed fence when Lancer
trotted toward her. She bent to check his leg immediately. She
gently unwrapped it and examined the puncture wound. Wanting to
refute the accusation that the bull had been turned loose on
purpose, she couldn't. It was no accident! This particular bull
would have been pinned no matter what. The fact that it wasn't did
seem calculated, like Joe Munroe said. Probably done by some
professional that knew what he was doing.

But who? And why? Candy looked about,
as though expecting the culprit to materialize.

Dusting her buckskin outfit, she
listened to the announcer. "Well that about wraps it up once more,
folks. Hope you all enjoyed another Friday night at the rodeo, and
y'all come back. How about a generous hand for all our contestants?
After all, some won't get much else."

She glanced toward the arena as she
neared the end of the chutes. She didn't see her moccasins
anywhere.

One of the clowns sauntered up to her.
"Sorry I didn't do too well tonight. White Demon could have had you
for supper. I just couldn't distract him."

"It worked out okay, don't fret about
it." Candy eyed her Uncle seriously, knowing he was feeling guilty
about something that was not his fault.

"Looks like Lancer's gonna have to take
it easy for a bit. But don't worry, honey, we got that boot on him
fast and he'll mend just fine. So how about you, are you all
right?"

Knowing her Uncle Roscoe's concern was
genuine, she smiled. He didn't mention the bull being turned loose,
so she didn't either. "I'm fine. I'll get old Doc to take a look at
Lancer. Have you seen my mocs?"

He snickered as he pulled a small
tobacco bag from his hip pocket. "Reckon I seen Doug with them a
while ago."

"Oh!" Candy's head jerked. "Where is
he?"

"Behind the ticket stand, as usual,
signing autographs for those silly, little teenagers," Roscoe
answered.

Candy started to head for the ticket
booth but her Uncle's words stopped her.

"That was pretty quick thinking on that
Munroe fella's part, jumping in front of that bull like he
did."

"Yes." Irritation lined her voice. "I
know. I've just come from thanking him. Do you know
him?"

"Not well, but I thanked him a couple
of times myself. Never in all my rodeoing days have I ever seen
anything quite like what he did." Roscoe's grin widened. "But I met
him some time ago. In fact, your dad introduced us. You see, I used
to run with his folks down on the Pecos. Good people, those
Munroe's. Give you the shirt off their backs. 'Course any man who
saves my niece's neck is okay in my books."

"What do you know about
him?"

He scratched his chin, rubbing the
make-up off with his fingers, and then dusting it off on his pants
leg.

"Well, not a lot, I guess. He seems
pretty up and up to me. First time I seen him ride, though. Damn
sure can sit a bull, cain't he? I know his kind. He's a stubborn
one. I know that. He knows his own mind. As I recall, he plans to
bring the Texas Longhorns back to the range. Sounds a little
peculiar, I'll admit, but if it can be done, he'll be the one to do
it."

"But Longhorns?" She laughed. "Why on
earth would anyone want to bring them back?" As soon as the
question was out of her mouth, she regretted it. She saw the
displeasure on her Uncle's face.

"I'll admit it sounds like a might
peculiar notion. But some say it has its possibilities. According
to Joe, there's a place in Oklahoma that breeds them, some kind of
government project. And it has some points in its favor. They are
cheaper to raise and feed, and much easier to care for. They can
live on nothing but the fat of the land. Have you ever seen a
white-faced that could take care of itself during the dead of
winter?"

"No, but--"

"I reckon it's a right romantic
notion," he said with a slight chuckle.

"To each his own." She shrugged her
shoulders.

"By the way, are you going into town
tomorrow?"

"I'd planned to. Why? Wanna come with
me?"

"Nah, I don't think that's too good an
idea. I never cottoned to Fargate much myself."

"I think I can understand that. I wish
dad had left his will with Mr. Peabody. It certainly would have
been easier. But you know dad, he wouldn't give up
hope."

"What you gonna do about the ranch?"
Roscoe asked, his curiosity aroused.

"I don't know. I hadn't given it much
thought. I'm not even sure I own it. If it's got a clear title I'll
probably take a look at it before I sell."

"Your mind made up to sell
then?"

"No, not really…why?"

"I've been thinking." He scratched his
head and eyed her. "I'm getting too old for this clown business. I
need to settle my bones somewhere. And you're gonna need someone to
help you run things. Someone you can trust to see it's done right.
I think I'm the one for the job if you're interested in a broken
down ole rodeo clown like me, that is."

"Interested?" she wailed and grabbed
his hand in hers. "Oh, Uncle Roscoe, I'd love it. Do you honestly
think we could make a go of it? It's always been my dream to have a
place of my own. I never had much of one with dad. But do you think
we could? I mean, the last I remember it was a real
dump."

"Maybe it is, but hard work never hurt
nobody."

She reached up and kissed his cheek,
then smiled and headed for the ticket booth, calling over her
shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow and we'll talk."

He waved and smiled.

It didn't take long to find Doug
Chapman. He was smack in the middle of a passel of
women.

"Using my mocs, Doug?" Candy called
from a safe distance.

Doug's' head reared. "Candy," he said
and smiled broadly, exhibiting a set of bright, white teeth. "Sorry
about your ride, honey. Tough luck. Maybe next time. Come over
here. I've got your mocs."

"Throw them to me, will
you?"

"Come and get 'em, honey."

A tall, willowy blonde sashayed up to
Doug, purring at him. Doug smiled at her, and bent to touch his
lips to hers. He cast Candy a teasing grin. What a
flirt.

Shaped like a quarterback, Doug was
monolithic. It was a wonder his legs didn't drag the ground when he
rode. Women flocked at his heels, and it had nothing to do with his
rodeoing. Drat the man for enjoying his advantage so
much.

Candy edged nearer.

"I'll give you your mocs," Doug said,
"if you'll have dinner with me tomorrow night."

"Dinner?"

"Sure, gotta celebrate my winning 'All
Around Cowboy' don't I?" He grinned.

"Okay. Now can I have my
mocs?"

Her mocs were dangling from his belt
loop. "Not 'til you come and get them."

She made a quick frown and moved
closer. "Give it here, Doug."

"Sure, honey, but first," he bent the
distance to touch his lips to hers as she approached him from the
side. She tried to respond, but despite his mastery at kissing, her
eyes flew open. The kiss was destroyed as she caught sight of Joe
Munroe in the crowd of onlookers. There was a scowl on his handsome
face as he watched her display.

What was his problem?

Her actions seemed childish and she
quickly pulled away, especially since she really had no feelings
for Doug. "See you later, Doug," she called over her shoulder as
she escaped into the crowd.

She scolded herself for ending the kiss
so abruptly, but something in Joe's face had ruined it. She
couldn't altogether blame the bad kiss on Joe; it just didn't have
any sparks or bells to it. As much as she wanted to hear bells, she
hadn't heard a one with Doug. Maybe she was losing it or something.
After all, Doug was quite a catch on the circuit.

Okay, so she was acting out of
character and she knew it. So what? A lot of girls threw themselves
at Doug. What was the harm in flirting? He was a bachelor, she was
single. She had as much right as anyone else kissing him. Didn't
she? It wasn't Joe Munroe's business either.

She subconsciously headed for the back
pasture. She heard Lancer trotting to the fence line. She smiled
and pulled some sugar cubes from her shirt pocket. The roan nibbled
them gently from her hand and gave her an affectionate
nudge.

She glanced down at his leg. He was
favoring it. Lancer was too expensive to lose. Besides, she loved
Lancer more than anything, except maybe her Uncle. Although the
wound wasn't serious, he needed medical attention so infection
wouldn't set in. It made her shudder. She patted Lancer
affectionately.

"I wouldn't go riding him 'til that leg
has mended."

Hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
"I hadn't planned to," she replied too sharply, raising to meet
Joe's keen scrutiny.

"He's a nice looking roan." Joe's voice
held admiration as his hand went over the horse's flank. "Better
have the doc look at him pretty soon, before infection sets in. He
took a pretty hard fall, too. Whoever cut him knew exactly what
they were doin'."

"Cut him? What are you saying?"
Impatience shook in her voice. Honestly, did he think her
incompetent?

"I think that's pretty plain, your
horse has been cut, deliberately and very intricately, by someone
who knew exactly where to make the break. No ordinary cowboy could
do that. Had to been a vet or someone who has been to vet
school."