The Cowboy's Surrender (20 page)

****

A week later, Gillian woke from a sound sleep. She lay still, trying to listen for the noise that had jarred her awake. There it was again. A low bawling outside her window. It took a minute to figure out what had made the sound. Tiptoeing to the window, she peeked between the curtains. A small black calf stood beneath the window of the trailer, calling to its mother. What was a cow doing on the drilling site?

Blinking the sleep from her eyes, Gillian looked beyond the small yard surrounding the trailer and gasped. There wasn't just one cow on the drilling site. There was a herd of cattle. What was going on?

The phone rang. Gillian picked up the receiver and dragged on a robe. Harold was on the other end of the line.

"I'm up here on the platform," he said. "We've got trouble."

"I know. How did they get on the site?" Gillian asked.

"What do you mean, 'they'?"

"The cattle. You
are
talking about the cattle, aren't you?"

"Cattle? What cattle?" he asked. "God almighty, I see them now. There must be two hundred head coming this way. Call McCade up at the ranch house. Those must be his cows. Hold on a minute."

Gillian looked out the window again. Several cows were grazing on the sparse grass near her trailer. Looking closer, she saw the brands on their rumps. A circle within a diamond and the letters,
DBR
. Diamondback Ranch.

Harold came back on the line. "You still there?"

"Yes, what's going on?"

"One of the men found a pair of wire cutters. Said he found it laying next to a fence post." He paused. "Better call the sheriff."

A sinking sensation formed in the pit of her stomach. "The sheriff? Why?"

"The cutters are from McCade's place."

"Why do you think that?" Gillian didn't believe Dallas was responsible for sabotaging the drilling operation. She hadn't believed it in a long time.

"They're clearly marked. We've got McCade now," Harold said.

"Dallas didn't do this, Harold. I know it wasn't him." But someone had done it, she thought. Who could it be? She forced herself to focus on the business at hand. "If you weren't calling about the cows, why did you call? What else is wrong?" Gillian watched the herd of cattle make its way toward the equipment. So many large animals could do a lot of damage.

"One of the roughnecks got hurt and had to go to the hospital. Nothing serious. Just wanted you to know," Harold said. "Listen, I've got to get some of the men and make sure those cows stay away from the rig. Be sure to call the sheriff. And McCade."

"It wasn't him," she said again. "I'll call the sheriff anyway." Gillian hung up. She grabbed the phone book and scanned the names and numbers. Someone was determined to stop the drilling. Harold was convinced it was Dallas, yet she knew better. It was time to find out who was behind all of this.

Gillian quickly found the number of the sheriff's office and punched it in. She explained what was going on. The deputy sounded sleepy. Guess they didn't get many calls at four in the morning. She hesitated before making the next call.

The night she had spent with Dallas burned in her memory. The passion they shared scorched her soul. She had fallen in love with him against her better judgement.

It had been more than a week since she had heard from him. Why hadn't he called? Why had he kept away? Did he regret their lovemaking? Had it meant nothing to him?

She wondered what he would think when he found out he was being accused of sabotaging the rig. She would know soon enough. Taking a deep breath, Gillian dialed the ranch.

Dallas answered on the second ring. "Hello?"

Her heart skipped a beat at the sound of the deep sleepy voice. "Hey, it's me," she said. "Something's happened up here on the site. You need to come as soon as you can."

"Are you all right?" Dallas asked. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she said, hearing the concern in his voice soothed away some of her fears. Did he care for her even only a little? Her throat ached with longing and hurt. Hearing his strong voice, knowing how he must look in his bed, just waking up--a yearning washed through her body. "Could you meet me at my office? Please?"

"You mean
now
?" he asked. "What's going on?"

Gillian felt like crying. How could he sound concerned one minute, then irritated and impatient the next? She should never have let their relationship go so far. Dallas didn't want her love. He'd made that clear from the start.

"Some of your cattle are on the site," she said.

"Hell," he muttered. "A fence must be down. I'll be right over." The receiver clicked in her ear.

Gillian quickly dressed. She ran a brush through her tangled hair. Her hand trembled with the motion. Tossing the brush on the counter, she clutched both hands in her lap trying to still the tremors. She had to face Dallas. Pretend that nothing had happened between them, because she was certain he regretted everything. Somehow, some way, she would get through this.

****

In the cramped space of her office, Gillian almost cowered at the sight of the big man towering over her. She took a deep cleansing breath. Dallas had every right to be angry. No one liked to be accused of wrongdoing, especially when they were innocent.

His eyes glittered fiercely down at her. "You thought I was responsible for this fiasco?"

Gillian hesitated. "Dallas, I--"

"Never mind. I have my answer." He turned to the sheriff. "Better arrest me, Roland. Seems like I've been tried and convicted without a judge or jury."

"No, wait!" Gillian grabbed the sleeve of Dallas's shirt. "I know you didn't do it."

Dallas looked down at her. "You never thought it was me?"

Gillian squeezed his forearm, the muscles hard under her fingers. She couldn't lie to him. "In the beginning, I thought you might be responsible. I was new to the job. I didn't know you very well."

Dallas jerked his arm away. He looked at Harold. "You think I'm guilty, too. Don't you?

Harold didn't waver from the penetrating gaze. "Sure looks that way."

"At the jubilee," Dallas continued, "when you were called away to the site. You thought I was responsible for that trouble, too. Didn't you?"

"You're the only one with any kind of motive," Harold said. "You've made no secret about how you feel with us drilling on your land."

"Yes, everyone knows how I feel," Dallas said. "Tell me one thing. How do you think I pulled off all these 'accidents'?"

"You have someone on the inside doing the dirty work," said Harold. "Someone who used to work for the Diamondback Ranch."

Dallas frowned. "Dunbar."

"Exactly," Harold said.

"Let me see those wire cutters," Dallas said to the sheriff.

Roland took them from a large plastic bag and handed them over.

Dallas stared at the cutters and frowned.

"You've been clever covering up your tracks," Harold said, taking the cutters from Dallas. He turned them over and pointed to the identification marks on the handle. "Here's the proof I've been waiting for. Right here.
MC. McCade.
Can't deny it, can you?"

The sheriff grabbed the cutters. "Those aren't--"

Dallas interrupted him."Looks like you're going to have to book me, Roland."

"I'm not arresting you," the sheriff protested. "You know those marks belong to--"

"Just do it." Dallas held his wrists out. "Might as well make it look good."

He caught Roland's eye. Gillian saw a look pass between the two men.
What was going on?

"Hell, Dallas. You know this isn't necessary." The sheriff hesitated before clapping the handcuffs on him.

Harold looked from one man to the other. "McCade, those
are
your marks, aren't they?"

Gillian could see Harold's uncertainty. He had been so sure Dallas was guilty. The sheriff's reaction, as well as Dallas's, was unexpected. Doubt furrowed Harold's brow. "Look, if there's been some mistake--"

"Don't worry," Dallas said. "I promise justice will be served." He glanced at Gillian before walking toward the door.

She had the distinct impression she was witnessing a play or a farce. Dallas was acting a role, forcing the sheriff to play along. Everything seemed unreal.

"I'm going with you," she said.

Dallas stopped at the door and slowly turned. "I don't think so. You've played your part."

Gillian recoiled from the contempt in the blue eyes. Everything they had shared together disintegrated in an instant. He would never forgive her for doubting him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. For a second, something flickered in his gaze. It was gone just as fast. Gillian watched him walk out the door and out of her life.

****

Dallas sat in the sheriff's office, sipping a cup of coffee. He tried to ignore the ache in his heart, the sick feeling in his stomach. He couldn't believe Gillian had believed him capable of sabotaging the rig. She might as well have stabbed him in the back. How could she have thought such things, even in the beginning, yet laid with him in bed sharing the most incredible night of his life? He had thought she was different from other women. Now he knew better.

"Need a refill?" Roland reached for the coffee pot.

Dallas held his cup out. "Sure."

Roland sat back down at his desk. "How long are we going to play this little charade out? Those wire-cutters don't belong to you. That
MC
stands for Malcolm Cooley, not McCade, and you know it. Everything on the Diamondback is marked with your brand."

"You know it and I know it. The people at the rig don't know it. They think I'm responsible. We need something more substantial to prove who really did it. I don't think we'll have long to wait," Dallas said. "You went to the cafe and told Sarah Sue what happened, didn't you?"

"Yeah. She looked at me like I was crazy. I wouldn't be surprised if half the town isn't in here protesting your arrest and offering to post your bail."

"We're just waiting for one certain person to show up," Dallas said. "If my hunch is correct, and the news of my arrest spreads fast, we should be out of here before lunch." He glanced out the window, then sat back. "Make that breakfast. The show is about to begin."

Nadine Cooley threw the door wide open, rushed into the sheriff's office and searched the room with a wild look in her eye. "No, no, no!" she said, when she spotted Dallas. "What have you done? This wasn't supposed to happen. Why have you arrested
Dallas
?" She glared at Roland.

"Someone has been trying to stop the drilling at the rig," said the sheriff. "Dallas is responsible."

"It wasn't Dallas." Nadine stood in the middle of the office, wringing her hands together. "Of course, it wasn't Dallas. He would never do something like that." She ran over to Roland and tugged at his sleeve. "It was
me
. I wanted to make those people leave the ranch. I wanted Dallas to be happy again. I thought maybe he would love me a little because I helped get rid of them."

She released his arm and went to kneel beside Dallas's chair. "All I wanted was for you to be happy. I
live
to make you happy." She frowned at Roland. "You've ruined everything! How can Dallas be happy in jail? Release him at once. He didn't do anything wrong."

Dallas eased his frame from the chair, helping Nadine to her feet. He felt sorry for the woman. She lived in a fantasy world. "Nadine, who was helping you? You didn't do all those things at the rig by yourself."

Nadine sniffed and opened her purse searching for a tissue. "No, I didn't do them. I have a partner. He wants to help you, too. I can't tell you his name. I'm not a tattle-tale." She wiped a tear from her eye.

"You need to tell the sheriff who helped you," Dallas said. "What you did was against the law. Your partner broke the law. Everyone thinks I did those things. You don't want that, do you?"

Nadine sat in the chair, twisting the tissue into a tight screw. "They'll know it wasn't you when they find out the truth. You're innocent. Let him go, Roland. Put me in jail. I'd do anything for Dallas. Even go to jail."

"I don't want you to go to jail," Dallas said. "I want to help you."

She smiled through her tears. "You do? Really?"

"Yes, and the only way I can do that is for you to tell me the name of your partner."

Hanging her head, she sighed. "I can't."

"Nadine--" He turned sharply as the door burst open and Allen Dunbar came tumbling in, tripping and falling to his knees. Dallas watched his three brothers march into the office and slam the door behind them.

Austin hauled Dunbar to his feet. The former ranch hand sported a black eye and torn shirt. Tyler's lip oozed blood. Cameron's knuckles were scraped. Austin stood in the middle of the room with a scowl on his face and a death-grip around Dunbar's neck.