The Cattleman (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

Nick galloped across
his pasture with nothing but a waning moon to guide him. He was chasing after a mysterious horseman without a weapon. The only thing he had with him was his rope.

And if there was one thing a rancher knew how to do, it was to drive a stubborn cow. This cow just happened to be a human whose butt would hurt when it hit the ground. Roping this runaway was faster than catching up to him. Safer, too since he didn’t know if the man had a weapon.

He loosened his rope cinch and built a loop securing it under his arm. Kicking up his horse to a faster gallop he lined up and started to overcome the rider. Just a bit closer and he circled the rope over his head to open it and get the velocity he needed to throw. Then he let the rope fly.

Target acquired, he wrapped the rope around his saddle horn. By the time he’d created a dally, his well-trained horse had thrown on the brakes, sliding to a stop before the other horse hit the end of the rope.

Nick hit the ground before his target flew over the rump of his own horse and landed with a hard thud on the ground. The horse kept running, probably scared straight into the next county. The man’s straw hat flew away as his moans grew louder from the winter-cold ground. Taking advantage of his target’s momentary confusion and change of direction, Nick cautiously approached with no knife, no rifle and only the rope for his defense.

“I can’t say I’m sorry. You were trespassing and you’ll be lucky if the next place that butt lands isn’t in jail.”

He yanked hard on the rope, pulling the slack, keeping it taut and low around the man’s waist, which trapped his arms. He didn’t squirm or try to get free, allowing Nick to get closer. He gave a tug with both hands and the man fell backward. Nick placed his boot on the man’s chest but quickly pulled it back.

“Matt? Matt Long?” This was the informant? The kid couldn’t even shave.

“Please don’t send me to jail, Mr. Burke. Momma said I had to do this or we were all going to get hurt bad.”

While the kid continued to plead for his freedom, Nick lifted the loop over his head and pulled him up by his coat lapels.

“Who’s going to hurt you or your mom?”

“I...um...”

He’d known this kid his entire life. Had watched him at the local rodeos bronco busting. He couldn’t be more than fifteen. That seemed about right, ’cause he’d just started driving around town. His dirtbag of a father had taken off last year sometime after the shooting, leaving the family strapped.

“You want your freedom, kid? You come clean with what you know.”

“I heard her talking to somebody a couple of times. Telling him things. I think it’s the same guy, but I don’t know who he is. Honest, Mr. Burke, honest.” Matt’s body literally shook under Nick’s hold.

“Did she mention when I’d be gone from the ranch?”

“Yes, sir. At least I think she was talkin’ about you.”

Matt’s mother was the informant. Maybe his dad had been before that. The timing fit, since he’d taken off right after everything hit the fan last year.

Nick released him, patting both the kid’s shoulders. “Go get your hat and run home.”

“That mean you won’t press charges, sir?”

Nick ran his hand through his hair, trying to think. “Why?”

“I’d be willing to work—”

“No. Why did they send you out here?”

Dirt popped up behind the kid’s shoulder. Then an unmistakable sound echoed through the cool air.

“Was that a rifle?” Matt asked.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!”

He pulled the kid’s coat again. First running, then yanking him behind him, barely waiting for him to get his leg over the rear end of the horse before shouting, “Haw!” He slapped the reins and the horse jumped forward. Matt’s hands wrapped around him, holding tight.

Beth is at the ranch.
With that thought ringing in his head, he kicked the horse’s sides harder.

It was wide-open pasture between them and the barn. To reach safety, they were riding straight into the line of fire.

* * *

T
HE
SHOTS
STARTLED
everyone in the bedroom, even Bishop jumped. People screamed outside. Beth’s mother—closest to her in the room—darted forward in the confusion and put her arms around Beth’s waist.

They exchanged a quick, concealed look that baffled Beth. Why would— Something was shoved into her hands under her coat.

It was the hard shape of a pocket knife. She could cut through the plastic cuffs when she had an opportunity. Bishop yelled and pushed away her mother, who stumbled back next to her father. Beth secured the knife in her back pocket.

Another shot rang out, this one closer to the house. Outside, there was more screaming, running and shouting with a faint echo of music that still played from the party. Inside, the people she loved watched her for answers. They were silent. No one moved.

Bishop’s phone rang, startling everyone in the room again.

“What do you mean you missed?” he screamed into his cell. “One out of the three is not good enough. I need them all dead.”

Someone was shot. It couldn’t be Nick. He was chasing the mysterious horse and rider. Or could it? Those first shots had sounded like a rifle firing and the last was closer, more like a handgun.
No, no, no.

“You bastard! Who’s shot? Is he okay? Did you kill him this time?” Her eyes blurred with tears, but she couldn’t cry. She had to believe Nick was still alive. He’d been shot before. He needed her help. Maybe Pete and Cord were heading to Nick right this minute.

Juliet sat on the bed, twisting her fingers in the corner of her apron. She was worried. Beth would pull herself together because their parents needed her help. They wouldn’t survive if Bishop won. She had to fight Bishop and defeat him.

“Tie them up and then blow up the tank. Do it.” He checked his watch. “You have four minutes.”

“Blow it up? You can’t hurt all these innocent people.” Her mom and dad, Juliet and Alan—they’d all be killed.

“Yes, I can. None of my organization will be bothered by your ineffective task force any longer. Come on.”

“You really are a monster.”

Bishop yanked her hair again, guiding her through the doorway, tugging her to a stop at the entrance to the living room. She heard Kate’s voice shouting instructions and the sound of dishes breaking. Men’s voices she couldn’t distinguish spoke all at once.

“Set him down on the island before he bleeds out.” Andrea, Pete’s girlfriend commanded. “You, dial 9-1-1. Oh, my gosh, he’s too tall. Someone will have to hold his feet.”

Nick was tall.
Then again, all three men on the task force would be too tall for Juliet’s kitchen island.

The shouting continued. People ran through the living room, crouching behind furniture. She heard Cord’s voice outside, “Get to cover! If you can, get a ride to town. Fast!”

“Move. Front door,” Bishop told her softly. He kept her close with one hand twisted in her hair and the other twisting her flesh with his handgun into her side once more.

The front door was open. He pulled on the small hairs at the base of her scalp, causing her to draw air through her teeth. He turned her to the left on the porch, facing away from the barn. The Burkes’ friends gave her curious or maybe concerned looks as she headed upstream from those attempting to get to safety.

What was about to explode?
Run!
she wanted to scream at the people to get them out of there before they became victims of this senseless violence. Cord was nowhere in sight. She didn’t recognize anyone who passed to silently plead for help. Bishop turned closer into her coat, hiding his face.

Some DEA agent you are
. She couldn’t stop thinking about her shortcomings or straining to hear voices that would let her know who was bleeding from a gunshot wound in the kitchen. If she’d been a better agent, perhaps this could have been prevented.

Bishop and his men infiltrating the party hadn’t ever occurred to her. She had to stop beating herself up over this, over the shooting in Chicago. Some events couldn’t be foreseen. But they could be dealt with.

An explosion splitting the night left her ears ringing. The house shook beneath her feet. The blast felt like an earthquake, ten times worse than the car blast when they had escaped. Their four minutes were up.

Bishop laughed and pulled her into the multitude of people now running for their cars. He shot his gun into the air, causing even more panic and ear-piercing screams. His men had successfully blown up the propane tank. Everything was on fire east of the house. The flames would spread quickly into the fields unless someone acted fast.

Options for her freedom, and the four captives in the bedroom, were limited if she couldn’t find help. Bishop marched her straight into the barn, shut the main doors and left them in the dark.

A murdering drug dealer stood between her and the only way out. If she made a move, she’d be dead before disarming him. And disarming him with her hands behind her back was too much to expect.

If she could get her hands free, there was a hook they used for the hay on the wall, but the odds weren’t in her favor she’d reach it in time. All too quickly, her wrists were not only secured together, they were tied a second time to a rail in an empty stall.

“That should keep you.” None too gently, Bishop yanked the rope tighter.

She held in the hiss of pain and ground her teeth, refusing to let him see her flinch. Her wrists were already raw from pulling against the plastic restraints.

“I need you for bait or you already would be dead,
chica.
Keeping you alive is covering our bases, as you say here in America. I will be back to finish you soon. Don’t worry.” Bishop tapped her cheek lightly and left by the far entrance.

All she needed was enough time to retrieve the knife from her back pocket and cut through the restraints. All she needed was time.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Nick and his passenger felt the ground tremor from the explosion when his horse stumbled a bit under them. As dangerous as it was, the resulting fire was probably the only thing that had saved their lives from the sniper.

Nick headed to the east, putting the fire between them and the house, then circling the back side. He dropped off Matt close to the drive to the main road and told him to flag down a car for a ride.

He left his horse a couple of hundred yards from the house. His cell finally had reception again, but no one answered. He figured Cord and Pete would be busy helping with the crowd or fire. Then he heard more shots bounce off the buildings. He was unable to determine where they were coming from.

Could he really go back into a situation that might put another bullet in him? Could he risk getting to the spot where he’d been shot and then losing control—staring into space while others were injured? His chest hadn’t had the phantom pain since Beth had stroked the scar with her tender touch. He took a deep breath. He pictured the corral, strained to see it on the far side of the garden. No dizziness.

The question was no longer
if
he could go back to his home. Just
how
.

What was Bishop trying to accomplish?

The closer he got, the more his home looked like a mini war zone. No one worked to extinguish the fire. The wind was taking the flames away from the house and into the pasture. He watched men hunkered down behind tool implements instead of grabbing a shovel or water.

Damn, the shots. Bishop’s men had folks pinned where they were. He needed his rifle, and needed to find out why Cord and Pete and even Beth weren’t stopping the gunmen.

Weaving and staying low to the ground, he quickly made his way to his mother’s garden. Praying that his parents had left with someone else, he finally got to the back porch. And a trail of blood.

He took the steps two at a time. His heart exploding out of his chest at the thought it might be Beth bleeding inside.

“You’re going to the hospital,” Pete’s new girlfriend, Andrea insisted. “I’ve stopped the bleeding, but you were seriously shot.”

“I need to find Cord.”

Nick yanked open the door, blocking out everything except the picture of Pete sitting where his mom rolled out her biscuits. Shirtless, his arm in a sling and enough gauze stuck to his shoulder to plug a dam.

“You’re not Beth.” He relaxed for a split second, realizing she was still unaccounted for as he searched faces in the room.

“Nick,” the room seemed to say at once. Several people already huddled along the cabinets, out of the way.

Pete swung his legs over the side and sat. “I’m fine. I haven’t seen her since before this all started.”

“I can’t get her on her phone. None of you would answer.” Nick felt his own blood pumping again. Everything had completely stopped when he’d thought Beth might be bleeding and dying. She still wasn’t accounted for, but she might have gotten their parents to safety.

“We’ve been a little busy.” Andrea crossed her arms. “She might have gotten to a car and might not have her cell.”

“No way. She runs to the action. Not from it.” His gut was telling him she was in trouble. He had to find her before Bishop did.

Kate looked at her phone. “Cord’s still not answering, but I didn’t think he’d stop to take my call. It’s only been a few minutes since the last shots.”

“There are a lot of people pinned down out there.” Nick hoped Beth wasn’t one of them. “He’s got his hands full.”

“More reason for me to put on a shirt,” Pete complained.

Watching the expression and determination on his girlfriend’s face, Pete was fighting a losing battle.

Nick needed to get outside and help. “Did anyone see my parents leave? Their car’s blocked in by a couple of others.” He searched the faces of people huddled out of the way or helping with Pete’s wound. They all shook their heads. Then everyone heard the next shot, turning their faces toward the window just before the cracked pane shattered.

“Down!” Pete shouted. “Lights.”

Nick was closest to the door and flipped the switch. The remaining light over the stove shone brightly on the far wall. A single bulb that seemed to keep everyone calm.

“Where’s your sidearm?” he asked Pete.

“This was a party. I left it in my truck.” The sheriff stood, almost falling before doubling over the kitchen island, silently admitting that he was out of the game.

“No one’s come through here in a while,” said one of his dad’s friends, who sat next to Nick on the floor. “I was lookin’ for your dad when the shootin’ started. I did notice your fiancé scootin’ out the front door with a city feller right before the explosion.”

Beth didn’t have any friends here.

“What did this guy look like?”

“I’d say he was nice lookin’ with nice city clothes. Sharp pointy shoes, looked like gator or snakeskin maybe. Dark, definitely Hispanic.”

Bishop had her.

“Did they say anything?”

“No. Don’t think so.” He scratched his temple. “I did sort of think it was strange that Miss Beth came from the bedrooms and wasn’t worried about the gunshots. They walked straight out the front. I got distracted helping with the sheriff.”

“Thanks.” He turned to Pete. “Bishop must have Beth. I’m taking dad’s shotgun and looking for her. If you hear from Cord, let him know.”

“Sure thing. I’ll follow just as soon as I can stand up.”

Andrea sat next to him shaking her head. “He’s lost too much blood.”

“Keep him here. Did anyone call for help?” he whispered to Kate.

“Both counties are sending everyone they have, but they’re still about ten minutes away.” Kate shook her head. “You can’t go out there alone.”

Keeping his head down, Nick got to his dad’s gun cabinet and took the twelve-gauge pump action. He shoved shells into the loading flap and poured the box of extras into his jacket pockets.
Miss Beth came from the bedrooms.
He pumped the slide, moving a shell in place, then crossed the hall, missing the board that squeaked. He slowly turned the knob on his parents’ room, expecting something fishy behind the closed door.

Opening it a crack, he saw a shaking gun barrel. He smashed open the door, leveling the shotgun toward one of Bishop’s men, who dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

All four of their parents began talking at once. He was right. Beth was a prisoner.

“Where’s Bishop?” he asked the man as both the fathers tied him up using neckties. “Come on, man. I know you understand me, so just give it up.”

“I don’t know,” the guy said in perfect English. “But I can call him.”

“Is that what he told you to say?”

The young man was trembling, but his nonreply was enough affirmation. Bishop wanted to know when he returned.

“We’re coming with you,” Carroll Conrad said.

“No, sir, I’m afraid you can’t. Beth would never forgive me. And I’m a lot more afraid of that than I am of Bishop or his men.” He smiled, trying to reassure them all. He yanked on the neckties, verifying they were secure. “Lock him in the closet, Dad.”

He sounded confident talking to their parents, but his insides shook with fear. If it was a runaway horse, he’d know just what to do. But this? He’d find Cord and work with him to find Beth. He’d work smart instead of alone.

After realizing he couldn’t live without her, he was petrified about losing her.

* * *

B
ETH
’
S
WRISTS
WERE
RAW
, but she’d kept hold of the pocket knife and had sliced through the first restraint. The knife was sharp enough to cut easily. The delay came from the awkward angle of the second tie around the board. Bishop would return any minute. Her head and her gut told her that.

The fire was on the far side of the house, but the horses could smell the smoke and were uneasy in their stalls. She could hear their chests hitting the stall doors as their snorts and blowing grew louder with a couple of squeals thrown in for good measure. They were warning each other of the impeding danger, but it was a constant reminder to her that she had to escape.

A month ago she wouldn’t have known any sounds a horse made. Or how scared they became when separated from their herd. Now she totally understood. But she was on her own. She dropped the angle of her hands to a more comfortable position and adjusted her sweaty grip before losing the knife to the ground. She jabbed her hand once or twice as she sawed. Then, one good jerk and...she was free.

Perfect timing. At least for Bishop. Half a minute more and she would have had time to get out into the paddock. She barely had enough warning of his return to get her hands behind her back.

“I am ready to leave,” Bishop said into his cell. “When he tries to rescue the senior citizens in the bedroom, one clean shot and my problem is solved.” He pointed the gun at her and imitated firing it. “He knows I have his woman. If he survives my man at the house, I guarantee he’ll be here soon for me to finish things.”

Bishop stowed the cell in his pocket and leaned against a post. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the dark and she could see his maniacal expressions fairly clearly.

“This entire plan was suicide. Why come here with no way out?” She kept her hands holding the top of the rail, giving her the appearance of still being secured.

“You are the one with no escape,
chica
.”

One of the horses was getting overly anxious and kicked at the back of his stall. It was enough of a distraction for Beth to jump to the stall door. Bishop swung around holding the handgun at her abdomen.

“Since you are in such a hurry, I see no reason to wait.” He raised the gun but a blur crashed down on his arm and soured the kill shot.

“Run!” Nick shouted, tackling Bishop to the barn floor.

Some of their self-defense lessons were paying off. Nick jabbed, braced for a punch to his cracked ribs, swung an uppercut and then rolled Bishop end over end to the other side of the barn.

Beth looked for the weapon Nick had knocked away from Bishop. Nothing. Or if she could reach the hook behind her...

“Beth, run!”

Bishop came up from the floor with her weapon now in his hand. But Nick wasn’t finished. He attacked again with a loud growl, tackling Bishop and ramming him into Applewine’s stall door.

They wrestled for the gun firmly in Bishop’s grip, a familiar struggle. One she’d witnessed in Chicago where she’d hesitated and an agent had died. That was different. She’d been unsure, faced with impossible circumstances of who was who. Here there was no question. Running for safety wasn’t an option. She searched the edge of the breezeway for the second gun.

“No!” Nick yelled.

Beth whipped her head around, once again facing a gun. Bishop fired. Nick lunged. Beth dove.

The shot went high into the loft. She rolled to her feet, toward the man she loved and who had become her partner. She didn’t need a weapon. She had her fists and could help subdue Bishop.

Nick released him long enough to throw his elbow into Bishop’s chin. The gun, still in Bishop’s hand lowered between them.

Beth couldn’t move or breathe. Neither did either man. A split second of the universe coming to a halt then her instincts kicked in.

A step away. Hand extended. Another shot.

The struggle ended. She could see Nick’s confused expression. One of them had taken a bullet. Then they both slumped to the ground. No!

“Nick!” She stumbled the remaining step to him, holding her screams inside before rolling him off Bishop.

The love of her life was covered in blood.

“It’s not me. It’s not me.” He tossed the gun, then held up his hands, grabbing her shoulders. He shook her until she locked eyes with him.

“You cut that one a little close,” she whispered through tears, then pulled his face to hers and kissed him briefly. “Let’s try not to do that again for a while.”

Beth didn’t want to let him go but did as he wearily got to his feet. She placed her hands over Bishop’s wound.

Nick found the lights and tossed the first-aid kit at her knees. “I suppose you want to keep him alive for questioning.”

She didn’t want to think about more questions or smugglers or other impossible plans. She wanted Nick. But they ripped open bandages and applied them to the abdominal wound. Silently. Both of their hands. Together.

The time to say how proud she was of him would come later. He had more reason than most to walk away and leave Bishop to die, but he didn’t. Nick Burke was an exceptional man.

Flashing lights and the sound of a siren filled the barn. They finally had help. Within minutes deputies were there taking over. They cleaned their hands with the water hose outside the barn. She turned toward the house but Nick did an abrupt about-face.

“Uh-uh.” He pulled her next to the barn out of sight of most eyes, protecting her in his arms. “Stay here a minute with me. Our parents are safe. We can let the cavalry handle rounding up the rest of Bishop’s men.”

Exhausted, they propped themselves against the outside wall, letting the rest of the world catch up to their dizzying moment. No words were necessary for once. Just the strong pair of arms around her to make her feel safe, secure and more than a little loved.