Desert Heat (23 page)

“Are you sure?”

“Damned right, I’m sure. I’ve seen him work often enough over the years.” Dallas walked over to the makeup kit. “Check it out. Junior doesn’t even own any yellow paint. He must have used some of Cy’s, then washed it off and redid his face the way he usually does. He would have had plenty of time. There was a full section of broncs, then more time while the barrels were being set up for the racing.”

A noise sounded in the corridor outside the motel room. Dallas jerked Patience behind him as a key turned in the lock and Junior Reese swung open the door. He took in the scene, only mildly surprised, and a grim smile curved his lips.

“Well, look who’s here. Kind of thought you might try something stupid like this.”

Dallas caught the gleam of metal in Junior’s hand, looked down and saw the little twenty-five-caliber pistol Reese held. He must have seen the light through the curtains. Junior had wiped off some of his face paint. His hollow, sunken cheek and the scar bisecting his eyebrow stood out starkly in the harsh light of the motel room. Though most of the paint was gone, a wide purple smudge tracked along his jaw and a smear of red tinted his chin.

“Breaking and entering,” Reese said. “That’s a crime, you know.”

“Where’s the money?” Dallas said.

“I don’t have your money. The police say your witness ID’d Cy Jennings. Why don’t you ask Cy where it is?”

Dallas held up the T-shirt. “You don’t wear yellow greasepaint, Reese—but Cy Jennings does. You painted your face to look like his in case somebody saw you. Now, what did you do with the cash?”

Junior looked at the incriminating shirt, then his mouth edged up in the parody of a smile. “You want to know what I did with it? I spent it, that’s what. Every dime is gone. And if you think that dirty T-shirt is going to prove I stole it, you can forget it. I had a bad couple of years after that bull stepped on my face. Did a little time in the pen. Even if the shirt
was
proof, the court wouldn’t allow it as evidence. You aren’t the police, and even if you were, you don’t have a search warrant.”

Dallas softly cursed. The bastard was right. There was no way in hell they would be able to prove Junior was guilty. Dallas took a menacing step forward. He felt Patience’s hand on his arm as Junior raised the gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Reese warned.

Dallas’s hands unconsciously fisted. “You may have the money, Reese, but you’re ruined in this business. Word will get out—I’ll personally see that it does. No one will hire you—nobody in the rodeo world at least.”

Junior shrugged his shoulders. “I was thinking about retiring anyway. I’m getting too old for this clown crap. I figured Charlie owed me a little nest egg. You can tell him I said that.”

“Charlie never told you to take a suicide wrap when you got on that bull. You can blame him for what happened all you want, but the fact is, if you’d used better judgment, you wouldn’t have gotten hung up that day and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

A muscle knotted in Junior’s sunken cheek and his fingers tightened around the handle of the pistol.

“Dallas…?” Patience’s voice urged restraint and he clamped down hard on his temper. It wasn’t smart to go up against a man with a gun, especially when you had illegally broken into his room.

“Get out of my way, Reese.” Dallas settled his hand on Patience’s waist, urging her forward. They crossed the room and he eased her out the door ahead of him, then stopped and turned back to Reese. “I don’t want to see your face again, Junior. Not at a Circle C show or any other rodeo. Your retirement starts today.”

Closing the door behind him, Dallas headed for his pickup, his hand still riding on Patience’s waist. Beneath his fingers, he could feel her trembling. When he reached his truck, he turned and drew her into his arms.

“You okay?”

She held onto him, pressing herself against him, nodding against his cheek. “I got a little scared in there. I wasn’t sure exactly what you were going to do.”

The corner of his mouth edged up. “I wasn’t exactly sure myself.”

“I guess Charlie’s money is gone.”

“Charlie won’t want the hassle of trying to pin Junior down—he doesn’t have the time. I’d say it’s history.”

“What do you think Reese did with it?”

“He’s got kin in Alabama. Probably sent some of it to them. Maybe hid the rest. I thought about beating it out of him, but I figured I’d be the one who’d end up in jail, and Reese just isn’t worth it.”

They drove back to the rodeo grounds. Dallas parked the truck, then walked Patience back to her trailer.

“I’m glad you took me with you,” she said.

“Why? Because you were worried I’d make hamburger out of Reese?”

She smiled. “Because if I hadn’t been there to stop you from making hamburger out of Reese, he probably would have shot you.”

Dallas laughed. He reached out and touched her cheek. “It’s nice to know you care.”

Patience’s expression turned serious. “I care, Dallas. Too damned much.”

Dallas stared into those clear green eyes, and something tightened in his chest. Bending his head, he very gently kissed her. It was a tender sort of kiss, the kind that told her the way he felt without saying the words.

Though he hadn’t meant for it to happen, he was achingly aroused by the time he broke away, wanting her as he always did.

But Charlie had to come first. “I’ve…um…got to go see Charlie, tell him what happened. Maybe if you’re awake when I get back—”

“Shari’s sleeping in the trailer and Stormy’s staying in your RV. And I don’t think a room at the Westward Ho is a particularly good idea at the moment.”

“No, I guess it isn’t.” He started to turn away.

“Dallas…?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a really nice night. Maybe we could take a blanket and go for a walk up toward those buttes.”

He knew he shouldn’t. He needed to start easing away, begin to sever the connection. “Yeah, maybe we could. We might have to dodge a rattlesnake or two but I don’t mind, if you don’t.”

“If you’re there, I won’t mind.”

His chest squeezed. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He left her and went to find Charlie. Half an hour later, he returned to her trailer.

It was midnight by the time he brought her home.

Riding on the passenger side of the truck, Patience pressed her cell phone a little closer to her ear. Shari was driving, making the first leg of the trip across New Mexico to the Lea County Fair and Rodeo in Lovington.

“Thanks, Mabel. I really appreciate it. If you come up with anything, no matter how small, please let me know.”

“I’m glad you called.” Mabel Thompson’s voice echoed a little on the other end of the line. “I’ve never worked on anything quite like this before. It’s going to be fun—kind of like trying to uncover the real Jack the Ripper.”

“Maybe not quite that exciting. Lucky Sims might not have been murdered at all. And even if she was, the chance that the man who did it killed another of the rodeo women is probably pretty small.”

“Maybe not. I watch those shows on TV all the time, you know, like
Law and Order
and
CSI?
If the guy was like those creeps on TV, they get real stoked up. They work in patterns and they kill again and again.”

“I guess we’ll see. Maybe something will turn up.” Patience pressed the end button and stuck the cell phone back in her purse.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” Shari said, her eyes fixed on the black strip of asphalt up ahead. “But I think it’s really cool.”

Patience shrugged her shoulders. “Research is one of the things I do best. I don’t like the idea that my great-grandmother’s best friend might have been murdered. I like it even less that the guy might have gotten away with it.”

“So you’re thinking that if he did it again, you might be able to track him down?”

“I’m not exactly sure. Something like that, I guess. I called a friend at the Cowgirl Hall of Fame and a couple of other people I know who are experts in the field. I called my dad, too. He’s a real authority on the West. He got kind of excited about it. It’s hard to believe but they held one of those early rodeos right there in Boston each year. As far as I know, Addie Holmes never traveled that far east, but Dad said he’d dig around in the Boston archives, see what he could come up with.”

“With all that help, maybe someone will find out something.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. When we get to Hobbs—that’s the biggest town around here—I’m going to try to get on the Internet, do a little surfing, see what I might find out.”

Shari slowed for a truck up ahead, then pulled out and went around it. “So what’s your dad like? He sounds like someone I’d like.”

“I think you would. I know he’d like you. He’s in his early fifties, handsome, dark-haired, athletic. He and my stepmom have a really happy marriage. She works in the administration department at B.U. That’s where she and my father met. They live in a nice two-story house not far from the campus. Tracy’s kind of a homebody and since they got married, so is my dad.”

“That’s the kind of life I’d like to have,” Shari said wistfully. “I’m tired of traveling around all the time. I’m ready to settle down.”

Shari was beginning to sound depressed and when Patience thought about Dallas, she began to feel that way, too. She turned her attention to the passing landscape, let the vast open spaces and miles of blue sky clear her head.

They were following Charlie and the Circle C stock trucks. Since they’d left Cottonwood Creek, Charlie had made no more mention of the stolen money, accepting it as he did most things, determined to put it behind him.

It was late in the afternoon when they arrived at the fairgrounds and pulled into an area behind the Jake McClure Arena. There were pens for the bulls and a barn for the bucking horses, and the stock trucks headed that way. Patience and Shari stopped to dump their RV holding tanks, refill the water supply, and restock their limited supply of food before traveling the rest of the way to the rodeo grounds.

Patience hoped when they got there she would see Dallas. The summer was almost over and though part of her knew it would only make leaving him more difficult, another part wanted to make every last second count.

But Dallas was busy helping Charlie. She didn’t see him the rest of the day. He was busy that evening, as well. She and Shari went to dinner at a Mexican restaurant called La Fiesta, but it wasn’t much fun. The two men missing from their lives left an odd hole in the evening.

Both of them were feeling a little lonely by the time they returned to the trailer. They read for a while, then turned off the lights and went to bed.

Unfortunately, Patience couldn’t sleep.

After tossing and turning till well past midnight, she finally gave up, pulled on jeans and a thin cotton sweater, and went for a walk around the grounds. Since the rodeo didn’t start until tomorrow afternoon, most of the cowboys wouldn’t show up until morning.

As she wandered across the open, grassy fields, she could see Dallas’s shiny black rig in the distance. She wondered if he was avoiding her and had a suspicion that he was. Perhaps he was feeling the same mix of emotions she was.

Turning in the opposite direction, she strolled off toward the arena. There wasn’t much of a moon, but enough to find her way. She could hear the bulls swishing their tails, luffing and snorting and pawing the ground.

She meandered toward the horse barns. They weren’t full that night, so Button, Lobo, and Stormy’s horse Gus, all had their own separate stalls. Button raised his head and whinnied softly as she walked in. She had been riding him more and more. With Shari’s coaching, she had even started working him around the practice barrels before the rodeo started.

“Hello, sweetheart.” She reached up and scratched his ears, stoked his soft muzzle. The barn smelled of alfalfa, old wood, and dust, not an unpleasant smell. She checked Button’s water and feed, wandered over to check on Lobo and Gus, then left the building.

Still wide awake, she walked a short distance along the deserted road bordering the fairgrounds, then turned back the way she had come. Up ahead, she thought she saw a shadow in the darkness and thinking of Tyler, her senses went on alert, but when she looked again, she realized it was just her imagination. Tired at last, she continued back along the road toward home.

She had almost reached the horse barns when she spotted the first curl of smoke. It crept across the roof, leaked out from under the eaves, curled and rolled skyward, a gray coil reaching up through the darkness. More smoke drifted out through the open barn doors and her chest squeezed with fear. A shot of adrenaline jolted her into action and Patience started to run.

“Fire! Fire in the horse barns!” Her feet pounded over the grass as she headed for Dallas’s rig, which sat in the field ahead. Charlie’s second string of bucking horses were stabled in the barn. She needed help if the animals were going to get out before the fire swept over them, trapping them inside.

Racing up to the RV, she hammered madly on Dallas’s door and a sleepy-eyed Stormy pulled it open.

“There’s a fire in the barns!” Turning, she raced off toward the production trailer, but the Circle C crew was already on its feet, pouring out of campers and trailers, the backseats of pickups and cars. As soon as she saw that help was on its way, Patience raced back toward the barn and started opening gates.

The blaze had spread faster than she imagined it would. Long tongues of orange-red flames scorched through the wooden roof in several places, licking relentlessly down toward the animals below. The horses were frantic, neighing wildly, rolling their eyes and rearing, kicking against the sides of their stalls.

Dallas rushed past her, along with half a dozen other cowboys. They raced inside the barn beneath the flaming roof, barefoot and waving their hats, trying to get the animals out of their stalls.

It should have been easy, but the horses were frightened and confused, running in circles, fighting their lead ropes when the men tried to lead them to safety. Thinking of Button, Lobo, and Gus, Patience ran toward the far end of the barn. The flames burned there, too, the fire beginning to eat its way through the ceiling above the horses’ stalls. Small bits of burning wood floated down from the rafters, singeing the animals’ coats.

“Easy, sweetheart, I’m going to get you out of here.” Her hands were shaking as she opened Button’s stall and the horse raced out. Shari came running out of the darkness just as the horse bolted past.

“Button!” She turned and ran after him, worried that he might be hurt.

Gus’s stall was right next door. Patience ran in that direction. She led him out when he refused to leave on his own, and once he reached the open doorway, he shot out of the barn to safety.

A burning chunk of roof fell down, landed just a few feet away. She needed to get out of the barn before one of the heavy pieces fell on top of her, but Lobo whinnied just then. She could just make out his golden coat in the light of the flame and the whites of his eyes as he rolled them in terror. Coughing, she bent forward and ran toward his stall.

Dallas spotted Shari leading Button away from the fire and hurried toward her. “Button all right?”

“His coat is singed in a couple of places, but otherwise he’s fine.”

“Where’s Patience?”

“She was right behind me. She was bringing Gus out.”

Dallas’s heart began to beat faster than it was already. “I thought Stormy brought Gus and Lobo out.”

Shari shook her head. “Patience went after Gus. I saw him run out behind Button.” Shari glanced toward the building, rapidly engulfing itself in flames. “Oh, God, you don’t think she went back in after Lobo? You don’t think she could still be inside?”

Both of them started to run.

“Have you seen Patience?” Dallas shouted at Stormy above the roar of the fire.

“No! Gus and Button are out! Where’s Lobo?”

“I thought you got him out!”

“I thought you did!” Stormy jerked his head toward the barn.

Dallas’s gut was twisting. Stormy hadn’t brought Lobo out and if the horse was still in the barn and Patience went in to get him…

“Give me your handkerchief!” he yelled to Stormy, the crackle of the flames and the shouting of the men making it nearly impossible to hear. Stormy jerked a red bandana out of his back pocket and Dallas grabbed it. “You two stay here.”

“You’re not going in there?”

“I’ll be right back.” His pulse was going crazy. He knew she was in there—he knew it. Bending low, he pressed the handkerchief over his mouth and ran into the burning barn. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see. He closed his eyes and tried to remember where Lobo’s stall was, but he was disoriented by the darkness and the billowing wall of black. He closed his eyes, got his bearings as best he could, then aimed his steps in what he hoped was the right direction.

He thought of Patience and fear clawed at him, leaving his insides raw. If she was in here, if she was hurt in the fire or even killed…He blocked the thought and stumbled blindly on. He had almost reached Lobo’s stall when the big palomino came bolting out of the smoke like a fire-breathing dragon.

Lobo ran past him, toward the open barn door, but there was no one with him. “Patience! Patience are you in here?” Fighting for air, he started deeper into the barn, then spotted her stumbling toward him. She was coughing, unsteady on her feet, blinded by the smoke and trying to find her way out.

“Over here!” He caught up with her, hauled her against his side, and together they ran toward the door of the barn. The wooden door frame was blazing. Fire raced across the ceiling overhead and he could hear the crack and snap of burning timbers. They ran toward the bright orange glow, stumbled through the opening, and out into the night.

He didn’t stop until they were safely away from the blaze, then they both went down on their knees in the dew-damp grass and dragged in great gulps of air.

In the distance, he could hear the blare of sirens, see the whirling red lights of a stream of fire engines racing along the road. Next to him, Patience shuddered as if she were cold though her skin still felt warm from the blaze.

“Are you all right?” Terrified she had been burned, he turned her face from side to side, checked each of her arms and legs, then her neck and shoulders. She was covered with soot, head to toe, her blond hair streaked with oily smudge. She coughed and so did he.

“I’m okay,” she croaked out of a throat rusty with ash and smoke. Still not satisfied, he grabbed her hands and turned them over to check her palms, saw with relief that she really hadn’t been hurt.

“Did Lobo get out all right?” she asked.

Dallas closed his eyes. She was worried about his goddamned horse. His chest still ached from his paralyzing fear when he realized she had gone into the burning barn.

“Lobo’s fine,” he said gruffly. “We got all of the horses out safely—thanks to you.”

Shari and Stormy raced up just then. “Oh, God, are you two all right?” Shari knelt beside them, Stormy on the opposite side.

“We’re fine,” Dallas said a little more harshly than he meant to.

Stormy looked at Patience. “I thought the horses were already out. I thought Dallas had gotten them to safety. Apparently, he thought I had. I’m sorry you went in there.” He gave her a crooked smile. “But since you’re okay and so is Gus, I’m damned glad you did.”

Dallas cast him a glance. “Yeah, well, I’m not.” He turned a hard look on Patience. “Dammit, you could have been killed!”

She straightened, pulled a little away. “I got the horses out, didn’t I? You would have done the same thing.”

Stormy caught the fierce glint in Dallas’s eye, tipped his head toward Shari, and both of them slipped away.

Dallas stood up and drew Patience up beside him, held on to her for a long moment. “Come on. We’ll stop by your trailer and you can grab some clean clothes. There’s a motel just down the street. I’ve got a room there. I wasn’t in the mood to hear Stormy whining about Shari all night. You can stay there tonight with me.”

She looked as if she might argue, then sighed and simply nodded. She was exhausted, drained by the adrenaline rush and her earlier fear. He wanted to hold her, make sure that she was all right. He wanted to gather her close and take care of her.

And in some strange way, he needed her tonight in a way he never had before.