Appaloosa Blues (Sisters of Spirit #8) (20 page)

Confidently he gathered her up onto his lap, tilted her head back and took full measure of her sweetness displayed for him. Pliant in his arms, she half-turned, laying her hand against his broad chest, shining eyes lifted to his. His lips took hers again, and this time she met him with soft response. "You cuddle so beautifully, precious. What would you do for me, behind closed doors?"

She held her breath at the sudden image that returned to her mind, put there by the song, of Adam and her together, and she realized that he had pictured it also. "I don't know, I can't say." She squirmed upright, agitated. "Don't ask."

"All right. But I'd love to find out." He got out and retrieved their clothes, and they dressed without haste, reluctant to end their time at this place. The gate was around the bend and Jo walked ahead, closing it after them.

"Thanks. Remind me to always bring you along."

"You're welcome." What would happen, next time they came? She had better wait for her swimsuit.

As they came around the corner, they spotted a dark panel truck pulled off to the side of the road. Adam slowed so he could look at the Oregon license plate.

He read the numbers off to Jo. "Write those down,” he said, repeating the numbers. “These might be our cattle thieves."

“We saw a truck last time.”

“Would you drive the same vehicle after someone saw you in it?”

“No.” She flipped open his glovebox, found a paper and pencil he kept there for notes, and wrote it down.

He gave her the model and probable year. It was hard to tell now-a-days. The cars looked so much alike. As they slowly passed, he looked back—and read her off a second number.

"You gave me two different numbers," Jo said.

"That's right."

"Aren't they supposed to be the same?"

"Yes. I think the back one was cardboard. It didn't look like professional printing. You know how the numbers are stamped into the metal, so they are raised?"

"Yes."

"They didn't look like it."

"Couldn't we drive back and look better?"

"Not with you."

"Why not?"

"They’re armed. I have a rifle, but I'm not taking you into a gun fight. I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt when I could have prevented it.”

"I don't want you going in either."

"I don't plan to." He took out his cell phone and speed dialed Sheriff Allerton.

"This is Adam Trahern," he said. "I've got a possible suspect for the cattle thieving that's been going on. There's a dark paneled truck on FH 29. Could you have it checked out?" He glanced over at Jo's paper and read off the license numbers. "The first one is on the back and looks like a fake." Adam stopped the car, checked his GPS unit and read the coordinates off to the sheriff. "Just past that, headed north."

"No, I've got a woman with me. I can't detain them."

"Send a car to each end, then have them drive toward each other. There's only one other road off this one. You've got a two out of three chance to intercept them."

He hung up.

"Do you think they'll get them?" Jo asked.

"I have no idea. It might not be them. But those license plates were surely wrong."

"Could we let the air out of their tires?" Jo asked.

He smiled. "No. Let the sheriff handle this. Now what colors do you want for our wedding?" he asked as he drove back across the mountains.

Talking about wedding plans might be better than other topics, so Jo entered into the discussion with zeal. If only it were real. By the time they reached her home, they had everything planned, from best man to flowers.

Pulling up in the driveway, Adam caught her hand as she slid over to get out. "Remember me tonight, honey — when you're out with this Peter character. And tell him, no more dates."

"Sure." One date with anyone but Adam, was one too many. As for remembering Adam — he'd given her plenty to remember. She wasn't about to forget this morning.

Her grandfather wasn't home. Karen said he went to Cindy's to be with his great-grandchildren after Jo left.

That evening Jo was tempted to throw on jeans and sweatshirt, but knew those wouldn't please Gramps, so chose a cotton sun dress with spaghetti straps and a light jacket. As she was dressing, Karen came in. "I'll zip you," she offered, suiting action to words. "How'd it go with Adam today?"

"Fine," Jo replied, glad that Karen was behind her and couldn't see the blush redden her face.

"I was afraid the two of you would fight all the time, although Johnny said differently."

Johnny and his information
. "How would Johnny know that?"

"I asked him last night how he knew when none of the rest of us did. He said Adam has two letters you wrote him."

"After all these years?"

"When'd you write them?"

"One was after his father's death, but the first was when I fell and broke my arm."

"What'd you say?"

"Not much. Just ‘thank you’ in the one, and sympathy in the other."

"There must've been more. Why not ask Adam some day?"

Jo looked skeptical. "I probably wouldn't see anything in them now...I didn't when I wrote them. How do I look?"

Karen surveyed her sister, as Jo turned around. "Nice. I have some earrings that match that color you can borrow, if you like. I'll expect a full report when you get home, so take note of the menu and whatever else. Poor Johnny and I haven't even been to a movie together."

"You can't say your fence-corner meetings have been dull," Jo teased, accepting the tiny glass dolphins earrings.

Karen looked sheepish. "No, far from it. But I would enjoy the opportunity to show him off to everyone." She turned her head, listening. "That sounds like a car now."

Grabbing her jacket, Jo descended the stairs, frowning slightly, her thoughts on the letters. Why would Adam keep a letter from a thirteen-year-old kid? What had she written?

Adam couldn’t sleep. Jo was out on her date, and he was having to fight off a spate of jealousy. He took the time to call Sheriff Allerton.

“Hey, Jeff, any news on that vehicle I called in earlier today?”

“Yes. It belonged to Marv Johnson. I called him and he said he’d sent his grandson to check his fences. So that was a dead end.”

“Why the two plates?”

“Marv said he hadn’t noticed it. He’s in his eighties, you know. That would be an easy thing to have happen.”

“Did he go look?”

“Yes. He said the second plate was on top of the first. You know how thin those plates are when they send them, and how they stick together? He had his grandson fix it.”

“The back one was cardboard.”

Marv said he must have put it on. He does things like that now-a-days. Thinks he’s fixed it when he hasn’t. The numbers on that was his old license number.”

“I thought we’d found them. How about the vehicle I saw late last night?”

“That one was an out-of-towner. A man and woman finding a place to park.”

“I hope you aren’t getting tired of chasing down all the stray trucks I spot from up here.”

“Absolutely not. I’ve asked feedlot buyers and auction houses to be on the alert for the stolen calves. I figured if I could cut off the market, that the stealing would stop. They might be gathering them in someone’s barn, preparing to make a haul out-of-state, where a lot owner wouldn’t be alerted.”

“Wouldn’t they be wary of the different markings on them? I know lots of owners don’t brand anymore, but they still make ear cuts.”

“Yes, but those can be changed. You’d have to hold the cattle until the changes heal over.”

“Do you have any aircraft to check back lots?”

“We’ve used them for mapping and patrolling the main roads. No herd has shown up where a herd shouldn’t be. But they’ve only been taking one or two at a time.”

“Hard to tell what they’re doing with them.”

“Keep phoning in your sightings, Adam. And try not to get shot at again. We may still nab them.”

Jo shifted gears as she turned onto the rural road home. The date hadn't been too bad. Peter had driven them to Pendleton, the two-hour drive covered swiftly in his cherry colored Jaguar. They had gone to a restaurant, seen a movie, and stopped at a bar for a drink. Refusing to drink and drive, Jo had declined and was now driving home, struggling with the unfamiliar standard transmission.

She glanced at Peter's profile. Compared to Adam's strong jawline and rugged good looks, Peter had the slick features that turned Jo off. His chin was weak and he lacked the strength of character possessed by Adam.

He hadn't measured up to Adam in any way during the evening. Jo suddenly realized that subconsciously she had used Adam Trahern as a standard with every man she'd met. No wonder she'd been unable to become seriously interested in anyone. If only this date was with him.

"Nice night," Peter remarked pleasantly. "But oppressively warm, even with the top down."

"We'll have a thunderstorm tomorrow. That'll release the pressure building up."

"Why don't we pull off somewhere for awhile?" Peter suggested, unexpectedly laying his hand on Jo's thigh.

With a feeling of repulsion, she shoved it away. "No!"

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"That's no reason. I took you to a restaurant and movie. I expect something in return."

Jo had heard that before. "You got it. A good time. And that's all."

"Don't be silly. Pull over. The night's young," he demanded, his voice becoming belligerent.

"No." Jo accelerated, refusing to look at him, and concentrated on getting herself home.

Peter muttered something and turned to pull out a six-pack from behind his seat. "Want one?"

"No thanks. I'm driving."

"We're close enough home, it won't matter anymore." He opened two bottles and held one towards her. When she refused, he drank them both, and started on a third, angry and sullen.

As they reached the gravel road, he placed his hand over hers as she tried to shift, causing her to grind the gears.

"Cut that out!" she shouted, as if loudness would get the message across quicker. He was becoming repulsive, and drunk enough to be irrational.

He slumped, morose and sullen, mumbling to himself. "Not right," he said over and over. "Jus' not right. I’ve got money now. I paid for everything."

He lurched forward suddenly and grabbed the wheel. Jo slammed on the brakes, sluing sideways on the road. The Jaguar was sitting with its rear part way out into the road, but there was room enough to drive around it. "Peter! Let go!"

"I wanna stop."

"You can stop, then. I'm walking home." She yanked the keys out of the ignition. She probably had about six miles to go, all uphill, but she wasn't going any further with him. And she was taking the keys with her so he wouldn't kill somebody if he tried to drive.

As she swung open the door, the light startled him. "Where you goin'?" he cried, grabbing her arm and yanking her onto the gear box. The lever hit her on the side of the face, just below the eye.

She fought to get her hand free. "Let go, Peter!" He grabbed for her as she struggled upright, catching her dress, ripping one of the spaghetti straps loose.

At the sight his expression became more determined, and Jo felt him gather himself to renew his attack.

It was happening again. First in a bedroom, now in a car.

She had to get away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Fear engulfed her, threatening to paralyze any resistance to Peter's attack. Successfully forcing past the moment of panic, she called up anger to take its place, including the adrenalin anger produced. Even then she was unable to break Peter's hold until she jabbed his face with the keys.

Free. She rolled sideways out the car door and gained her feet. As she started to run, headlights illumined the night — a vehicle coming down the road. Jo stood in the center and waved her hands. The fast-moving pick-up skidded to a stop.

Adam flung open the door, causing Jo to cry out with relief. At the same time Peter caught up to her, grasping her arm roughly. "It's okay, we don' need any help," he shouted.

Adam didn't reply, probably reading what he needed from Jo's expression and the ripped dress. With a quick, smooth motion, he stripped Peter's hand from her arm.

Angry, Peter stepped forward, fists swinging. Adam blocked them for a second, then stopped Peter with a left hook that lifted him off his feet and dropped him to the gravel.

Jo didn't wait to see if Peter stayed down. Crying out Adam's name, she scrambled into his arms.

The intense gaze he turned to her was thunderous. "What's going on? Are you all right?" he demanded as she clung to him.

"Yes. Now you're here," she replied. The tension hit her all at once and she sagged into his arms like a puppet without strings. Adam caught her full weight as a spasm shook her helplessly.

At that moment Peter came off the ground, fists swinging, yelling and cursing them both. Ignoring him, Adam swung Jo up on the hood of the car, out of the way, enabling Peter to land one blow before Adam was ready.

Peter was taller, but Adam proved stronger and more skilled. He'd grown up scrapping with her brother Tom. Adam's blows were swift, hard and well placed, leaving Peter's face a mess. A rapid combination of punches dropped him to the gravel.

Stepping over Peter's prostrate form, Adam scooped Jo's purse and jacket out of the sports car. He tossed Peter into the front seat, the keys in the back, and slammed the door.

He still looked angry as he strode over to Jo. What must he think of her? She burst into tears, unable to stop the flood. It was ridiculous — the danger was past.

His expression changed to concern as he draped her jacket around her shoulders, stroking her hair, calming her with soft assurance. "You're safe now, dearest. Hold onto me." His arms tightened as she pushed bodily against him, seeking his strength, burying her face in his jacket and getting it all wet with tears, then after he unzipped it and pulled her inside, she soaked his T-shirt thoroughly.

"Go ahead and cry, precious. You're entitled to it. Let all that fear and anger flow out. I got here in time, didn't I?"