Justice at Cardwell Ranch (23 page)

She shook her head and laughed softly.

“I’m serious, Liza. You have me thinking crazy thoughts.”

“Is that right?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been thinking that I want to stay here and work the ranch with my sister. How crazy is that? Worse, right now, I’m thinking there is only one thing that could make this day more perfect.”

She grinned at him. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“I’m the one who is afraid to ask.” He dropped to one knee. “Marry me and make an honest man out of me.”

“Jordan—”

“I know this seems sudden. We should probably at least go on a real date where I’m not just another one of your suspects.”

“Be serious.”

“I am. I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with you. Say you at least like me a little.” Jordan looked into her wide green eyes and thought he might drown in them. “Just a little?”

“I like you.”

He grinned.

“A lot. But marriage?”

“Yes, marriage because I’m not letting you get away, Deputy, and I can’t stand to spend another day away from you. I’d marry you right now, but we both know that my sister Dana isn’t going to allow it. She’s going to insist on a big wedding at the ranch. But that will give us time to go on a few dates. So what do you say?”

Liza’s laugh was a joyous sound. “What can I say but yes.”

He laughed and swung her up into his arms, spinning them both around. As he set her down, he kissed her, then he drew back to look into her lovely face. Their gazes locked. Electricity arced between them, hotter than any flame.

“I suppose we should wait until our wedding night,” he said ruefully.

“Not a chance,” Liza said, putting her arms around him. “I can think of no place more wonderful to make love to you the first time than up here on this mountain.”

* * *

T
HE WEDDING OF
J
ORDAN
C
ARDWELL
and Liza Turner was a glorious affair. Hud and Clay gave Liza away, and stood up with Jordan. Hilde and Dana were Liza’s attendants. Hilde had made Liza’s dress, a simple white sheath that made her feel like a princess.

The ceremony was short and sweet and held in the large house on the ranch. Stacy baked the wedding cake and the kids helped decorate it. There were balloons and flowers and music. Jordan’s father and uncle came with their band to play old-fashioned Country-Western music for the affair.

Neighbors and friends stopped throughout the day to offer felicitations. Even Brick showed up to congratulate them on their wedding and Liza on solving the Tanner Cole case.

The murders and deaths had rocked the small community. Only a few people knew the story behind them and the twisted motives of those involved.

Fall and winter had come and gone. Jordan had been right about Dana insisting on a big wedding. It was spring now. The canyon was turning green from the tall grass on the ranch to the bright leaves on the aspen trees. Work had begun on a ranch house up in the hills from the main house for the two of them.

Liza had never been so happy. She had loved this family even before she fell in love with Jordan. Now she was a part of it. Raised as an orphan, she’d never known this kind of family. Or this kind of love.

Construction on their house on the ranch wasn’t quite done, but would be soon. In the meantime, the two of them had been staying in Liza’s condo and dating.

Jordan had insisted on a honeymoon. “Hawaii? Tahiti? Mexico? You name it,” he’d said.

But Liza didn’t want to leave Montana. “Surprise me,” she’d said. “Wherever you take me will be perfect.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked and kissed her as they left in a hail of birdseed.

She had no idea where they were going. She didn’t care. With Jordan she knew it would always be an adventure.

* * * * *

Keep reading for an excerpt of
Mason
by Delores Fossen

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Chapter One

The scream woke Deputy Mason Ryland.

His eyes flew open, and Mason stumbled from the sofa in his office where he’d fallen asleep. He reached for his shirt but couldn’t find it. He had better luck with the Smith & Wesson handgun that he’d left on his desk.

He threw open his office door and caught the scent of something he darn sure didn’t want to smell on the grounds of his family’s ranch.

Smoke
.

The wispy gray streaks coiled around him, quickly followed by a second scream and a loud cry for help.

Mason went in the direction of both the smoke and the voice, racing out into the chilly October night air. He wasn’t the only one who’d been alerted. A handful of his ranch hands were running toward the cabin-style guesthouse about a hundred yards away. It was on fire, the orangey flames licking their way up the sides and roof. And the place wasn’t empty.

His newly hired horse trainer, Abbie Baker, was staying there.

That got Mason running even harder. So did another shout for help. Oh, yeah, that shout was coming from the guesthouse all right.

“Call the fire department,” he yelled to one of the ranch hands.

Mason also shouted out for someone to call his brothers as well even though they would soon know anyway. All five of them, their wives and their children lived in the family home or on the grounds of the ranch.

Mason made it to the guesthouse ahead of the others, and he tried to pick through the smoke and the embers flicking through the night air. He hurried to the sound of his trainer’s pleas for help.

And he cursed when he saw her.

Abbie was in the doorway, her body half in and half out of the house, and what was left of the door was on her back, anchoring her in place.

The smoke was thick and black, and the area was already hot from the flames, but Mason fought his way through just as one of the ranch hands caught up with him. Rusty Burke. Together, they latched on to the door and started to drag it off Abbie. Not easily. It was heavy and bulky, and it didn’t help that the flames were snapping at them.

Mason didn’t usually think in terms of worst-case scenarios, but he had a split-second thought that his new trainer might burn to death. The possibility gave him a much-needed jolt of adrenaline, and Rusty and he threw the door off her. In the same motion, Mason latched on to her arm and dragged her away from the guesthouse.

“I couldn’t get out,” she said, her voice clogged with smoke and fear.

“You’re out now,” he let her know.

Out but not necessarily safe. The ranch hands were already there with the hoses, but he doubted the house would stand much longer. If it collapsed, Abbie could still be burned or hurt from the flying debris.

“Are the horses okay?” she asked. Mason was more than a little surprised that she’d think of the animals at a time like this.

“They’re fine.” At least he was pretty sure of that. “This is the only building on fire.”

Mason scooped her up, and she looked at him. It was pitch-dark, probably two or three in the morning, but thanks to the flames and the hunter’s moon, he saw her eyes widen. A single word left her mouth.

“No.”

Mason didn’t have time to question that
no
before she started struggling. She wasn’t a large woman, five-five at the most and on the lean side, but she managed to pack a punch when she rammed her elbow against his bare chest. He cursed and put her in a death grip so she couldn’t fight her way out of his arms.

“I’m trying to save you,” he reminded her, and he added more profanity when she didn’t stop fighting.

Abbie was probably still caught up in the fear and the adrenaline, but Mason was finding it a little hard to be sympathetic with the cold rocky ground biting into his bare feet and with her arms and legs waggling around.

“We have to get away from the fire,” he snarled.

Those wide frightened eyes looked at the flames, and she stopped struggling just long enough for Mason to get a better grip on her.

He started running toward the ranch office where lately he’d been spending most of his days and nights because of the heavy workload. He could deposit Abbie there and hurry back to see if the guesthouse could be saved. He wasn’t hopeful, especially because the ranch wasn’t exactly in city limits. It would take the fire department a good twenty minutes to reach them.

The door to his office and quarters was still open, and he hurried inside, flipped on the lights with his elbow and placed her on the sofa. Mason looked down at her, to make sure she wasn’t injured.

She didn’t appear to be.

Visibly shaken, yes. Trembling, too. Pale and breathing way too fast. All normal responses under the circumstances.

Her eyes met his again, and Mason saw the fear that was still there. And maybe something else that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Did you try to kill me?” she asked.

That single question seemed to be all she could muster because she groaned, closed her eyes, and the back of her head dropped against the sofa.

Mason huffed. That definitely wasn’t something he expected to hear her say. He’d been a deputy for fifteen years, and his employee no doubt knew it. Even though most people were leery of him because…well, because he wasn’t a friendly sort, they didn’t usually accuse him of arson or attempted murder.

“Why would I set this fire?” he demanded.

Abbie opened her mouth, closed it and shook her head. She also dodged his gaze. “I’m not sure what I’m saying right now. I thought I was going to die.”

Mason guessed that was a normal response, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. “How did the fire start?”

Abbie shook her head again. “I’m not sure. I woke up, and there was smoke all around me. I tried to get to the door, but I started coughing and couldn’t see.” She paused, shivered. “When I got to the door and opened it, it fell on me.” Another pause. “Or something.”

“Or something?”
he pushed.

Oh, man. The bad feeling was getting worse, and Mason blamed it on that stupid question. Was there a nonstupid reason that she thought someone had tried to kill her, or was this the ramblings of a woman whose mind had been clouded with fear and adrenaline?

“Or something,”
she repeated.

Abbie pushed her light brown hair from her face. Long hair, he noticed. Something he hadn’t realized because she always wore it tucked beneath a baseball cap. In fact, he’d thought of her as tomboyish, but there wasn’t anything boyish or tom about the person lying on his sofa. In that paper-thin pale blue gown, she looked like a woman.

An attractive one.

Something Mason wished like the devil he hadn’t noticed. She worked for him, and he didn’t tread down that path. Business and sex never sat well with him.

“Did you leave the stove on?” he pressed.

But all he got was another head shake—something else that didn’t please him. He wanted some answers here, and he wanted something to tamp down that bad feeling in his gut. However, the knock on his already-open door had him shifting in that direction.

It was his ranch hand Rusty. The lanky young man was out of breath and looked on the verge of blurting something out before his attention landed on Abbie. He motioned for Mason to meet him outside.

Mason looked at Abbie. “I’ll be right back.” Yeah, it sounded like a warning and it was. By God, he was going to get those answers and settle this uneasy feeling. He would find out why she’d thought he had tried to kill her.

He stepped outside with Rusty, and when he got a better look at Rusty’s face, he pulled the door shut. “More bad news?” But it wasn’t exactly a question. Mason could already tell there was.

Rusty nodded. “The guesthouse collapsed. Nothing left to save.”

Well, heck. That didn’t please Mason, but it could have been much worse. His trainer could have gotten killed.

Abbie
could have gotten killed, he mentally corrected.

And he cursed himself for thinking of her that way. Mason blamed it on that blasted thin gown and those frightened vulnerable brown eyes.

“There’s more,” Rusty went on, grabbing Mason’s attention.

Mason took a deep breath, ready to hear the news he probably didn’t want to hear, but before Rusty could spill it, he saw his brother Grayson hurrying toward them.

Like Mason, his brother was half-dressed. Jeans that he’d probably just pulled on and no shirt. Even half-dressed, Grayson still managed to look as if he were in charge.