Takin' The Reins (13 page)

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Authors: Stacey Coverstone

BOOK: Takin' The Reins
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After grabbing a quick lunch at a fast food restaurant, she set out for home with the radio blaring country music. She looked forward to telling Cole about everything she’d chosen. As she exited the highway onto the gravel road, a truck barreled down on her from out of nowhere. Before she could react, it crept up and tapped her on the bumper.

“Hey!” she yelled into the rearview mirror. The truck fell back, sped up, and bumped again, this time with more force.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she shouted, grasping the wheel tighter. Blood pulsed through her veins. The red truck rammed her again. Full-blown panic set in as her wheels skidded. Her gaze darted back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror in an effort to try to see who was driving it, but she could only make out two men wearing cowboy hats. The brims shaded their faces. The pickup fell back and then sped toward her one last time. Everything happened within a matter of moments. The truck slammed her Jeep hard, this time shoving her vehicle off the side of the road. As she lost control, the terrifying sound of metal and steel colliding with packed earth roared in her ears.

 

~ * ~

 

“My head,” she moaned. “Where am I?” Jordan lay on her side on the seat of her Jeep, remembering a loud crash and then darkness. Opening her eyes, she realized her vision was blurry. Easing herself to a sitting position, she raised a hand to her forehead and thought she might faint again when she saw blood on her fingers. She heard voices outside the window. Still dazed, she twisted her neck and saw the outlines of two blurred faces looking in at her.

“Miss Mackenzie, are you all right? Can you speak? Don’t be afraid. Mr. Roberts is on his way.”

The other man said, “I’ve got a cell phone. I’m calling 911.”

She tried to focus and heard the man on the phone say, “There’s been an accident on Northwest Bookout Road. A woman is hurt. No. No one else injured.”

She felt hot and woozy. When she started to slide down the seat, a hand reached in and propped her up again.

“Stay awake, Miss Mackenzie.”

“I’m bleeding.” She raised her hand for him to see the blood.

“Si. It’s coming from your forehead. You must have hit your face on the steering wheel, but it doesn’t look like a deep cut. Don’t worry. Mr. Roberts and the paramedics will be here any minute.”

Jordan shut her eyes again and leaned her head back on the seat. She recognized the faces now. They were Cole’s men. But what were they doing here? She remembered a truck forcing her off the road. The two men in the cab wore cowboy hats. Her eyes flew open.

“Did you see the truck?” she asked. “This wasn’t an accident. Someone intentionally pushed my vehicle.”

Neither man answered. Tony whipped a bandana from out of his pocket, leaned in, and pressed it gently to her forehead. When she attempted to sit up again, he said, “Please stay lying back, Miss Mackenzie. Help is on the way.”

“Did you see the truck?” she repeated.

“No. We didn’t see any truck. We were driving by and saw you here in the ditch.”

“I have an awful headache.”

“I’m sure you do.”

Tires squealed to a stop nearby. A door slammed and rocks crunched beneath someone’s feet.

“Is she conscious?” the voice asked. It was Cole. She could smell his cologne before seeing him.

“Si,” Tony replied.

“Jordan, I’m here.” Cole’s calm voice was soothing. He squeaked open the driver’s side door. She focused on him and leaned forward.

“Cole, it was those two men from the café. The cowboys that work for Stillwell. I know it was. The truck was red. They ran me off the road. They tried to kill me.” Her voice broke. She grabbed for his hand and he held tight.

“Don’t move, Jordan. Let me take a look at you.” He removed the bandana and visually checked her head and then asked if she hurt anywhere else. A siren wailed in the distance. Within minutes an ambulance pulled up and two paramedics asked Cole to step back. They took charge, checking her vitals and assuring she had no spine or neck injury. They cleaned and bandaged her superficial head wound and gave her some Extra-strength Tylenol for the headache.

“I suggest we take you to the hospital ER to have some tests run, just to be on the safe side,” one of them said. She was feeling better already and didn’t want to waste time at the hospital. Her anger at being intentionally run off the road superseded any aches and pains.

“I’ll be fine. I don’t want to go to the ER.”

Cole’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure? I think it’d be a good idea. Maybe you have a concussion.”

“I have a hard head.” She swung her legs out, preparing to exit the Jeep. “I have a headache, but I’ll feel better soon. I want to find out who did this to me. How’s my Jeep look?”

Cole put his hand on her leg to keep her inside. “Stay there. I’ll look, although your health is more important than your Jeep.” While he stepped to the back of the Jeep, one of the paramedics handed her a clipboard and pen.

“If you won’t go to the ER, you have to sign this waiver.”

“Okay.” She signed her name and thanked them, and they drove off in the ambulance. Tony and Bobby stood to the side. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, guys.”

“No problem, Miss Mackenzie. I’m glad we were driving by,” Tony said.

“Cole? What do you see?” she asked when he returned to her side.

“The front bumper is bent from where it hit the ditch and there are scrapes on the back left fender. Where’s your insurance card?”

“In the glove compartment.”

“Go ahead and call your insurance company, if you’re up to it. This is the scene of a hit-and-run. You need to report it.”

“Right now? Can I please deal with it later? I just want to go home.”

He looked to Tony and Bobby, who both shrugged.

“All right. But you ought to call before the end of the day. We should call the sheriff before we head back to your ranch though. This is serious, Jordan. You believe someone ran you off the road on purpose. You have to report it, especially if you think you know who the men were.”

“That’s what I intend to do. Campbell and Cruz aren’t going to get away with this. Let me find my cell phone.” She tried to locate her purse, but it had fallen to the floor.

“I’ve got a phone. I’ll call him,” Cole said, dialing the number. As he explained the situation to someone on the other end, Jordan asked Bobby to check the vanity in the back of the Jeep.

“Can you tell if it’s damaged?”

“The box has a gouge in it,” he reported.

“Oh, I hope it’s not ruined,” she moaned.

Cole flipped his cell phone closed. “The sheriff will be on his way shortly. Tony and Bobby, you guys need to stay a while longer in case he wants to take your statements.”

“We didn’t see who hit her, boss,” Tony reiterated.

“I know, but he still might want to speak to you.”

The two of them sauntered to the side of the road and sat in the grass.

“Can you help me out of here now, Cole?” Jordan asked. “I’d like to stand up and stretch my back.”

He gently eased her out of the car, and she wobbled. “Are you dizzy?”

“A little. I just needed to get out.” She put her hand on her back, which now hurt more than before. “Who else but Stillwell would have done something like this? I haven’t been in town long enough to make any enemies.”

Cole kicked a tire with his boot. “That toad. He must think he can get away with murder around here. He threatened poor Lydia, but he never tried to kill her. If this was his doing, he’s gone too far this time. And those two jerks who work for him are going to be sorry they got mixed up in this.” He clenched and unclenched his fists like he wanted to punch something. Jordan patted his arm. It was nice to have him on her side, but she worried his temper would cause her more problems.

“Try to stay calm,” she said. “They were probably just trying to intimidate me again. Maybe they didn’t mean to intentionally hurt me. I’m just glad I’m alive.”

“Of course you’re right. It could have been much worse.” He glanced over at Tony and Bobby, who were chatting, and lowered his voice so they couldn’t hear. “I need to tell you something, Jordan. It has to do with the sheriff.”

“What about him?”

“I’m not sure how much help he’s going to be when he gets here.”

She didn’t understand. “Why? You said yourself I should report this.”

“Of course you should. I’m trying to tell you, as delicately as possible, that it’s a well-known fact Sheriff Lovelady plays for both teams. We’ll see which team he’s on today.”

“What does that mean?” she asked. Her curiosity was fully piqued.

“He blows like the wind. Sometimes he does the job he was elected to do. Other times…well, it all depends on who’s doing the complaining. He looks the other way when it benefits his powerful friends, which, I’m sure, has its rewards.”

“Is Addison Stillwell one of the sheriff’s friends?”

Cole nodded. “They go way back. They’re as thick as fleas on a mangy dog.”

She frowned. “That doesn’t give me a lot of confidence.”

“I’m sorry. I just want you to know what you’re up against.”

When Sheriff Lovelady pulled up a while later, he seemed in no hurry to exit his black and white patrol car. He appeared to be straightening his clothes, maybe adjusting his pants and belt. Eventually he stepped out and sauntered over, as if he had all the time in the world to kill. His nonchalance didn’t make a good impression. Must be playing for the other team today, Jordan thought. Lovelady was a big burly guy with a paunch and a bushy gray moustache. His Southwestern drawl was thick.

“Afternoon, Cole.” He stared at Jordan. “Ms. Mackenzie, isn’t it?”

“You’ve heard of me?”

“Word gets around in a small town, ma’am.”

She and Cole exchanged a subtle glance. Cole repeated what he’d told the sheriff’s secretary on the phone about the accident being a hit-and-run.

“I’d like to hear what the young lady has to say, if you don’t mind,” Lovelady said, pushing Cole aside. Jordan disliked the man immediately. His smug expression was off-putting in and of itself, but his casual demeanor and insincere tone disturbed her more. And his eyes—they looked like they held dark secrets. She described the events that had taken place on the road. She also told him about the crank phone calls she’d received, the destroyed ranch sign, and the lewd graffiti painted on the barn. When mentioning the visit from Addison Stillwell two days earlier, as well as his overt threat, she was insulted when the sheriff smirked. He walked around the Jeep, casually looking it over, and then measured the skid marks on the road.

“You can’t describe the fellows who were in the truck you claim ran you off the road?”

“No. Except that they both wore cowboy hats.”

The sheriff chortled. “That’s not much of a description. Everyone around here wears a cowboy hat, Ms. Mackenzie.” He pointed to the Stetson on his head as an example. Jordan felt foolish, but also irritated by his condescending manner.

“Can you describe anything about the truck? The year? The model? What color it was?”

She shook her head. “It was a dark color. I’m pretty sure it was red. And old. That’s all I can recall. I didn’t have a chance to take down the license plate number since they were ramming me in the back end.” She wanted to be much more sarcastic, but one look at Cole made her realize she should not lose her cool. He was slowly shaking his head at her.

The sheriff scolded her like she was a child. “Now, now, honey. No need to get snippy. I’m just trying to get to the bottom of things here.”

She hated when strangers called her honey. “Wouldn’t it help if you took notes?” she asked. “I notice you haven’t written anything down yet.”

Lovelady tapped his temple with his forefinger. “I’ve got it all up here. My mind is like a steel trap. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Jordan
was
worried. The interview was going nowhere, and her blood pressure was rising. Taking notice of Tony and Bobby in the grass, Lovelady stepped over and pointed his finger.

“Why are you two hanging around here?”

Cole spoke up. “They’re my employees. They found Jordan in the ditch. I thought you might need their statements.”

The sheriff’s eyebrows twitched. “Did either of you see the truck she claims forced her off the road?”

“No, sir,” they replied in unison.

“You didn’t see a truck ram Ms. Mackenzie’s vehicle?” He shifted his bulk from one foot to the other.

“No,” Tony said quietly, probably realizing his statement was not helping her any. “She was already in the ditch when we arrived on the scene.”

Lovelady strolled away from them. Under his breath, Jordan heard him mumble, “Probably got distracted and lost control and wants to put the blame on some non-existent driver.”

Jordan opened her mouth to retort, but Cole stopped her with a squeeze on her arm. “I suggest you check out Joe Campbell’s red pickup,” he said, snaring the sheriff’s glare and holding it. “See if it’s scratched or has green paint on the front right fender. Take a look at this.” He pointed out the red paint on the Jeep’s back left bumper. We have reason to believe Joe’s involved in the recent activities going on at the Lucky Seven.”

“I saw it, and I’ll do that,” Lovelady responded coolly. “And while I’m at it, I’ll ask Joe if he participated in the vandalism Ms. Mackenzie says occurred at her ranch. I’m sure he’ll admit to it, if it’s true.” He laughed, as if that was an absurd notion. Which it was.

Jordan’s shoulders sagged. She had the distinct feeling the sheriff enjoyed patronizing her. Despite her frustration, she said, “Thank you, Sheriff, for looking into this.”

He patted his stomach. “It’ll be supper time before long. I need to be getting back to the office.” He moseyed to his car and then turned to speak once more to her.

“Unfortunately, you’ve not given me much to go on, Ms. Mackenzie. Call my office if you remember anything else that might be of help. I’ll follow up on that lead about the red pickup truck, but don’t get your hopes up. There are a lot of old, beat up trucks around these parts. In the meantime, if I were you, I’d lay low and try not to rile folks.” His eyebrows knitted together, giving him a sinister look. “You’ll find you’ll get along a lot better that way. Just a suggestion.” He winked and spun on his heel.

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