Tall, Dark and Cowboy (24 page)

Sinclair huddled closer to Lacey and let out a pitiful whine that was hardly the Call of the Wild. She watched Captain stumble and fall with a shrill whinny, landing hard on the shoulder opposite his injured leg. He lifted his head and neighed again, sounding as desperate and hopeless as she felt.

She ran over to the horse. His hooves cut through the air as he thrashed and struggled to rise, and she moved to the other side to soothe him. She stroked his shoulder and her hand came away sticky with warm blood. The noise grew louder, the ground seeming to shake with the pounding of…

Hooves?

Lacey stood stock-still as the bushes parted to reveal two horses, both dressed to kill in multicolored blankets that draped their bodies. She recognized Jimbo in an Indian pattern and Sheba in a shocking pink number that had Annie written all over it. They looked like they were headed to an equine prom.

Captain managed to struggle to his feet and stretched his neck to greet Sheba. Their muzzles came together in gentle greeting, and she felt tears stinging her eyelids. She couldn’t believe how happy she was to see the animals she’d been so scared of only a few days before.

Maybe it was the clothes. That had to be Annie’s work. They were lucky the baby clothes didn’t fit.

But where was Chase? Had he been thrown or something? “Sheba, where is he?” She stroked the horse’s shoulder through the fabric. Her hand hit a lump just behind the horse’s front leg, and the animal stepped aside.

“Hey, wait.” She stepped toward the horse, who snorted and moved away again.

“Oh, no. I’m not dancing with you.” She turned her back and folded her arms over her chest. It wasn’t more than a minute before she felt a soft nose blowing the hair at the back of her neck.

“Hey. I’m learning, aren’t I?” She patted the horse’s neck and slipped her hand under the blanket. Something was fastened to the underside. Flipping it up, she found a strangely shaped sheet of plastic and a roll of tape.

Maybe she shouldn’t have pulled it off. Maybe it was part of the blanket or something. She looked critically at Jimbo. His blanket draped gracefully, with nothing interrupting the fall of fabric.

She tore off the tape that held it together and a piece of paper fluttered to the ground.
Instructions
for
Adjust-a-Splint.
It was folded tightly with another piece, a handwritten note she unfolded with shaking hands.

Lacey: Wade was here.

She shivered. The sun had fallen behind the distant mountains, but its heat still lingered. It was the thought of Wade that made her cold. Suddenly, the mountain lion seemed like the least of her problems.

He left, but he’s watching. I sent Sheba to bring you this note. She also has a splint for Captain. Don’t worry, he’s good about his feet.

Actually, Captain’s feet were the least of her worries.

I’ll come and get you as soon as I can, but as long as Wade’s watching I can’t. Don’t worry about the bears and mountain lions. I was kind of exaggerating.

Lacey remembered the cry she’d heard and almost crumpled up the note. Chase was just trying to make her feel better. It had to be a mountain lion. She looked down and read the last lines.

Stay safe, and Do Not Come Home.

—Chase

***

Chase headed inside to get Annie. He’d done all he could for Lacey. Now it was time to deal with Wade.

“Come on, kid,” he said. “I better take you home.”

“I thought I was spending the night.”

“Change of plans. Sorry.” He hated to see her disappointed, but seeing Wade and his new lady friend had left a knot in the pit of his stomach and a nervous twitch pulsing in his temple. They were dangerous, and Lacey would understand that the first priority was to get Annie someplace safe.

“But Aunt Lacey…”

“I’ll go get Aunt Lacey when I get back. I sent her a note with Sheba.”

“What about Sinclair?”

“Can he stay with Lacey tonight? I think she needs him.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think Aunt Lacey’s going to be too happy if you leave her out there in the woods.”

He had no doubt Annie was right—but at least Lacey would be alive. God knew what she’d be if Wade found her. Kidnapped, probably. Dead, if something went wrong. Even after all these years, he could sense rage simmering under the man’s bulging muscles.

But as long as Chase didn’t lead Wade to Lacey, he’d never find her. Nobody who’d seen her dressed in designer duds sipping margaritas at the country club pool would ever look for her camping in the woods.

Annie thrust out her lower lip in a world-class pout, but she climbed into the pickup without another word. Pam always wondered how he got the kid to do stuff without arguing. He’d told her the answer: He didn’t argue. But somehow, it didn’t work the same for Pam. Or for Cody. Annie ran roughshod over them both.

And they both enjoyed it.

Or at least they used to. He flashed back to the sight of Cody sitting at the table with that woman and smothered a feeling of doom. Cody had given Lacey up. That was the only possible explanation. And Pam would never forgive him for that.

Everybody’s life was about to change.

He pulled out of the ranch gate, glancing over at the hill beyond that hid Wade’s car. He was tempted to go over and have a talk with him, but not with Annie along. He didn’t want her anywhere near the guy.

Annie chattered endlessly about Sinclair as they followed the winding county road into town. The ugly dog Lacey had given his niece was apparently the next best thing to Rin Tin Tin, brave and loyal and true—at least in his mistress’s loving eyes.

When they reached the café, the lights were on in the kitchen. Giving Annie’s ponytail a farewell tug as she took off for the stairs, he walked into the kitchen.

“See you, Uncle Chase,” Annie called over her shoulder. “Go get Aunt Lacey now, okay? She might be scared in the woods by herself, even with Sinclair there.”

Cody was chopping a pile of poached chicken breasts while a soup pot simmered on the stove. He looked up with his standard crooked grin. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey.” Chase leaned against the huge stainless steel refrigerator and watched Cody wield a butcher knife with
Iron Chef
expertise. “Who was that lady I saw you with?”

Cody stiffened, and his fist clenched on the knife, shifting it just enough to graze his thumb. “Damn.” He dodged over to the sink, cranking on the cold water and grimacing as he held the thumb in the stream.

“Who was she?”

“I don’t know. Hold on, I cut myself.” He turned away from Chase, hunching his shoulders.

“You know her?”

“Can you hang on? I’m fucking bleeding here.” Cody snatched a paper towel from the dispenser over the sink and dried off his hand.

“Who is she, Cody?”

“Look, I’m not cheating on your sister.” Cody returned to the chicken breasts, bending his head over his work.

“Don’t you need a Band-Aid?”

“No. I’m fine.” Cody refused to meet Chase’s eyes, acting as if the chicken would run away if he stopped his fierce concentration on its destruction.

Chase eased sideways, trying to steal a glimpse of Cody’s thumb. It looked fine. He hadn’t cut it; he’d just wanted an excuse to turn around. To hide his expression? To think of a lie to cover his guilt?

“Who was she?”

“She was—a friend, okay? She knew some people I knew, and we got to talking. That’s all.” He chopped a length of chicken with quick, vicious strokes. “Don’t you have someplace you have to be?”

“Yes, I do.” Chase stepped up to Cody. “I need to be with Lacey. She’s out…” He caught himself before he gave away Lacey’s location. “She’s out somewhere, and your lady friend is parked by my house, watching me to see if I’ll lead her to her. How did she know Lacey was at my house, Cody? Huh? How did she know?”

“Whoa, bro. I didn’t tell her.”

“No? Then who did? And what were you doing sitting with her?” He clenched his fist. “I trusted you,
bro.
I trusted you with my sister, with my niece, and with Lacey’s secrets. Guess I made a big mistake.”

Cody paled. “Where’s Lacey then? She’s not out there alone, is she? Because those people are dangerous.”

“Interesting that you would know that. I’m not telling you a damned thing.” Chase turned and headed for the door. “And stay the hell away from my sister.”

He was almost out the front door when Pam called down from upstairs. “Chase, come here.”

“I’m in a hurry,” he hollered back.

“It’s about Lacey. Where is she?”

He let go of the doorknob and bounded up the steps. He wasn’t about to tell her in front of Cody, and Annie was liable to holler out the answer any second. He shut the door behind him and faced his sister. “She’s waiting for me, that’s where she is.”

“Look.”

She was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea and a copy of the
Conway
Times
laid out in front of her. He knew she’d subscribed to the Tennessee paper since they’d left, but he’d never paid much attention to the news she relayed from it. That part of his life was over.

Once she’d tried to show him a picture of Lacey at some charity thing. He’d refused to look and stormed out, but a week later he’d noticed it at the top of the recycling bin and spent about ten minutes staring at it before he caught himself and tossed it aside in disgust.

“Lacey’s husband testified.”

“Ex-husband,” he said, and then the news registered. “What?”

“He testified. Gave up all his associates in exchange for a light sentence.” She folded the paper over and handed him the front of the local section. What appeared to be a mug shot of Wade Simpson stared out at him in black and gray and white, the man’s light-colored eyes looking nearly as threatening in newsprint as they had in person. “That’s Wade Simpson, isn’t it?”

Chase nodded, swallowing. If the cops were looking for Wade, he had backup. He could call the police, let them know he had reason to believe a fugitive was in the area, and Rick Platt or someone else would come out and get him.

“I’ll call,” she said. “You have to go tell her. She’s free.”

Chase put a hand to his forehead and leaned against the counter behind him. He could bring Lacey good news. He could let her know the nightmare was over. She’d be happy. She’d smile. Maybe she’d put her arms around him and kiss him.

“And then you have to tell her how you feel about her.” Pam was in bossy big sister mode. “You have to, or she’ll leave.”

She was right. Lacey was free to go now.
Not
again,
he told himself.
I’m not going to lose her again.

Tossing the paper on the counter, he headed for the door.

“Take the paper with you so you can show her,” his sister said. “And tell Cody to take you. He can get there faster than you. He’s down in the kitchen.”

Chase wasn’t about to tell Cody anything. According to the article, Wade Simpson was a wanted man now. A desperate man. He couldn’t stop Trent now, but he might not know that. And even if he did, he might still hurt Lacey for some kind of twisted revenge.

He galloped down the stairs, glancing through the kitchen door as he passed.

The room was empty. Cody was gone.

Cody, who was evidently friends with Janice, who was here with Wade Simpson, who was looking for Lacey.

Cody, who might have heard Annie’s comment about Lacey being in the woods.

Chase swore. There weren’t a whole lot of trees in this part of the world, and there was nothing within a twenty-mile radius of Grady that could be called a woods other than the little copse of trees on his land. If Cody had heard Annie, then he knew where Lacey was.

Slamming out the door, Chase hiked himself up into his truck and squealed out of his parking space. He’d just have to hope his truck could catch up to Cody’s Jeep before the guy could get to Lacey.

Lacey stood back and gave Captain a critical look. She’d fitted the splint to his leg and wrapped the tape around it, being careful to keep it smooth and wrinkle-free so it wouldn’t irritate his skin. The big horse had stood patiently through the entire process, seeming to sense that she was trying to help him. The only problem was Sheba, who had insisted on observing the process closely—so closely that she nearly got her curious muzzle taped to Captain’s leg along with the splint.

“Git,” Lacey protested as the pony crowded against her. She’d overcome her panic, but annoyance at Sheba’s antics had quickly taken its place. “I’m almost done.” She smoothed the tape one last time, then patted Captain’s shoulder. “Good boy. You’re a great introduction to horses for newbies, aren’t you? Unlike your little friend here.” She gave Sheba a playful swat, and the horse backed away, snorting.

“Let’s see if you can walk.” She took the reins just below the bit like Chase had shown her and led Captain a few yards down the trail. He was slow, but he seemed to be in less pain than before.

Maybe she should start toward the ranch. Chase had told her not to, but he’d also told her she was safer out on the plains than in the forest. And it would feel good to do something other than sit and wait for an unknown fate.

She clicked to the other horses, but it wasn’t like she needed to tell them to follow; Captain was evidently the leader of the pack. Sinclair brought up the rear, his plumed tail waving. She felt like the grand marshal of a rodeo parade. All she needed was a sparkly hat and a whistle to clear the way.

But it was a very slow-moving parade. By the time they cleared the edge of the woods, Captain was obviously in pain. He hobbled gamely on, but his head was held low and his steps were slow.

“You’re not going to make it, are you, buddy?”

They were out of the woods, but once again the vast space of the plains made her feel vulnerable and exposed. A faded moon was rising, casting a feeble glow that felt more spooky than safe, and a faint breeze rattled the dry grass, making a sound like skeletons dancing in a Halloween graveyard.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” she muttered to herself. “Get a grip.”

She cast a covetous glance toward Galt’s off-limits cabin. It loomed in the darkness, pale and dim, the only feature on the stark, barren plains. It was almost full night now, and there wasn’t a single light in sight. Galt’s trailer was apparently over a rise, or behind a rock. He’d never know she’d trespassed.

“And even if he did, what’s he going to do?” she murmured to Captain. “Shoot me? Grump me to death?”

He might shoot the horses. He’d shot a cow, after all. But it seemed to her there was a pretty good chance he’d never know they were there. Tugging at Captain’s bridle, she urged him across the shallow stream. The other horses followed, their progress making faint splashing sounds, then a series of irregular thumps as they mounted the bank and headed toward the cabin. Captain had trouble climbing the shallow grade, and she felt cruel tugging at his head, but instinct told her the horses would be safer in the shadows of the cabin, and she knew she’d feel safer inside.

When they got to the cabin, the horses milled around in the yard, stamping and shaking, their blankets slapping against their sides. Lacey sighed. She wasn’t done fighting dragons yet.

“You guys want to take those off, don’t you?”

Fortunately, the blankets had Velcro closures and slipped easily off the horses’ backs. She tossed them on the step and walked into the cabin, figuring she’d better learn her way around before the last moments of daylight slid into darkness. The place had two rooms: a big, main one and a little lean-to on the side that seemed to have served as a kitchen. The big room had a bed in one corner and a rusty wood-burning stove in the other. Sinclair had already found the bed and curled up in a ball at the foot of it, as if he was waiting for her to join him. It was a metal frame with a blue-ticked mattress on it. The thing was lumpy and looked like it was stuffed with straw. It probably had mice inside. And bugs.

The kitchen had a tin sink, a few wooden cabinets with the paint peeling off, and a rickety, handmade table. There had evidently been wallpaper once, but now it hung in strips and tatters from the wall, making the place look like it had a bad case of mange.

She cranked the faucet.

Nothing.

She wondered who had lived here. Was it just a line shack where cowboys stayed when they were watching their cattle? Or was it someone’s home? She looked at the window above the sink. The tattered remnant of a lace curtain hung in one corner, and there was a colored glass bottle on the windowsill—a touch of prettiness in this starkly practical building.

A woman must have lived here once. Lived here, and tried to make it a home—probably for the sake of a man. Surely no woman would choose to live in such an isolated, barren spot.

Opening a cabinet over the sink, she found a few cans of tomato soup and baked beans. A drawer held spoons but no can opener, and there was a ripped-out hole where the stove should have been, so the food wouldn’t do her much good. Not that she was hungry. Her stomach was so roiled up with fear and worry, she couldn’t even think about food.

But there was a light—a sort of camping lantern thing. She flicked the switch, and a bright LED bulb lit up the cabin. Nice.

She took it out and set it on the woodstove. Somehow, just having the place lit up made it look more like a house and less like a deserted shed. Mice didn’t like lights, did they? Neither did bugs. Sinclair looked up and thumped his tail.

“Annie’s spoiling you, isn’t she? You want attention all the time now.” She patted his head, then went back outside, where the horses stood in a loose semicircle around the cabin.

“Shoo.” She flicked her fingers. “Go home.”

They trotted off a ways, all but Captain, who stood gazing at her expectantly. Or was it adoringly? She’d fixed his leg. Maybe he was grateful, like that lion in the Aesop fable. That would make her the mouse, which was pretty damn appropriate. She was like a mouse, skittering around, scared of everything.

Then again, maybe he just wanted her to take the saddle off. How could you tell what a horse was thinking? They seemed to have two expressions—this one, stoic and unblinking; and the one where they freaked out and pulled their lips back, making all the veins stand out in their faces.

“You want that off, boy?” She moved to his side and stared at the saddle, trying to remember how Chase had put it on. Flipping up the stirrup leather, she found a metal ring with a strip of leather wrapped around it. The cinch, he’d called it. Remembering how he’d tugged at it, she picked at the knot until she managed to undo it, then lifted the saddle off and set it on the cabin’s front step.

She unbuckled the bridle and let the bit drop from Captain’s mouth. What she ought to do was put it on one of the other horses and ride back to the ranch, but what if she put it on wrong? Riding was hazardous enough without the saddle falling off or the horse balking at a poorly-fit bit. Besides, that would mean leaving Captain alone and defenseless. Even with the splint, he couldn’t move very fast.

She scooped up the horse blankets she’d tossed on the porch and paused, listening. A breeze rattled the dry branches of the lilac bush by the door and ruffled the prairie grass. The only other sound was Captain’s soft breath. No mountain lion. No engine noise. It was as quiet as it had been that night under the stars with Chase.

She looked up. The stars were barely visible, the sky not yet dark enough to put them in high relief. She could see the moon rising, a pale disc just over the horizon, and a bright star next to it. She wondered if Chase was looking up too.

Clutching the blankets to her chest, she brought them inside, tossing them on the bed. Sinclair immediately climbed on the pile and nosed himself a cozy nest.

“Hey, I’m using those,” she said. “Move over.”

She snuggled next to the dog, grateful for the company. Even the musky horse scent rising from the blankets seemed comforting, a reminder of Chase. The lantern cast its cold white light over the interior of the cabin, making spooky shadows where the peeling strips of wallpaper swayed in the slight breeze.

That was when she heard the engine approaching, distant but distinct in the quiet night.

Chase. Finally.

She stepped out on the porch and started to wave at the approaching vehicle. He probably couldn’t see her yet, but she was so glad to see him, she couldn’t contain herself.

The headlights rocked as the vehicle plowed over rocks and ruts.

Wait a minute. He’d said he’d bring the trailer. There was no trailer.

She remembered the note.
Wade
was
here. He left, but he’s been watching.

Watching. And she’d been fool enough to light the lantern, letting it beam from the cabin like a beacon announcing her location.

Stay
safe
, the note had said. She had a feeling it was too late for that, but better late than never. She ran inside and flicked off the lantern, plunging the cabin into darkness.