Return to Oak Valley (37 page)

In the kitchen, Shelly and Jeb both examined the cut on Acey's head. It wasn't as bad as it had first looked—head wounds always bled profusely. After Shelly had cleaned it out with a mild disinfectant and wrapped a length of white gauze around Acey's head, she admitted that Jeb and Acey were right about the lack of need for stitches—or an ambulance.

“You're sure you feel all right?” she asked for the tenth time since they'd come inside. “No dizziness? No blurred vision? Are you positive you don't want a doctor or one of the med tecs to look at it?”

Acey made a face, looking rather rakish wearing his white bandage. “Shelly, I'm fine. I've suffered worse than this, believe me. I know when I'm hurt. Nothing is hurt right now, but my pride.” He touched the spot and winced again. “And maybe my head is a trifle sore, but it's nothing. All I need are a couple of aspirin and that coffee you promised. I figure we're gonna need it.”

Once the coffeemaker was burbling away, she sank down on the chair next to Acey. Jeb was seated in a chair at the table across from them.

“What happened?” Jeb asked.

“I don't know what woke me, but I woke up sudden-like. I heard some four-wheelers in the hills not too far away and figured that it was them racing around, gunning their engines that woke me. I kinda drifted off and the next thing I know the dogs is raising a fuss. I thought a raccoon or skunk was sniffing around, riling 'em up. They kept barking and yelping and after a while I decided I'd better take a look. Didn't think much that the barn light was out, figured the bulb was bad. Anyway, I walked around the side of the barn and was checking out the back of the kennels when I heard a sound behind me.” He grimaced. “And that's the last thing I knew until I woke up with a hellacious headache, just a few minutes before you found me.” He looked from one to the other. “If I remember correctly,” he said slowly, “Shelly had a date tonight with Sloan…not you. Now that I've told my story, you suppose you want to tell me what's going on?”

The air turned blue from Acey's curses when the full extent of the trouble was explained to him. When the worst of his rage had abated, he took one of Shelly's hands in his. Her fingers tightened around his gnarled hand. “I failed you,” he said in a pained voice. “It's my fault old Beau is lying down there dead on the highway. If you want me to move out, I'll understand, and I wouldn't blame you a bit—without Beau, the Granger breeding program is damn near ruined.”

Shelly smiled and kissed his bristly cheek. “Don't be silly. We're in this together. What happened was an accident. You can't blame yourself. And the loss of Beau is tragic, but we'll just….” She took a deep breath. “Granger Cattle Company will just have to go in another direction. It might even be for the best.”

Neither she nor Acey believed that, but they were both putting on a brave face. Jeb let them brood for a moment, then he said, “If you're feeling up to it, Acey, let's take a look around. See for ourselves if it was an accident…or mischief.”

“You damn well know it was mischief,” Acey snarled, getting up from the table and walking toward the door. “I sure as hell didn't hit myself in the back of the head!”

The three of them went out together. It didn't take long to discover how the cattle had gotten out: The gate to Beau's pen was wide open, as was the gate in front of the area holding the cows.

Slamming Beau's gate shut, Acey growled, “Might as well leave the other one open for when the cows show up. They can drive them right on in—and if we fill the mangers with alfalfa, they might just go on in without darting all over first.”

The mangers overflowing with sweet-scented alfalfa, they walked back to the house. As they entered the kitchen, Acey muttered, “There's no way what happened tonight was just bad luck. Even if you try to make out that, maybe, it was just someone pilfering around that hit me on the back of the head, them cows getting out weren't no accident. You could argue that, maybe, I'd a been careless latching one gate—and I wasn't. But there's no way in hell that I'd mess up with two gates. And them cows wouldn't have ended up on the highway unless someone herded 'em down there.”

Solemn-faced, Shelly had poured coffee for them all. “But who? And why would anyone do such a thing?”

“Plain old meanness, pure and simple,” Acey said. “And if you think about it, Shelly, there's only one person it could have been—Milo Scott.”

Shelly gasped, her thoughts tumbling. “Of course,” she said after a moment. “It has to have been him. He's the only person who had a reason to cause us harm.”

“If I might add a word of caution,” Jeb said lightly. “Before you go off half-cocked, you'd better make sure of your facts. And if Milo Scott is responsible, you'd better have proof—and let the law take care of it.” He shot Acey a hard look. “Prove it to me, and I'll arrest him tonight.”

Acey swore some more—none of it complimentary to Jeb or the sheriff's department. “You know goddamn well, I can't. And I'll even bet if you was to go check out that lying, sneaking son of a whore, he'll have an alibi for tonight a mile long.”

Jeb raised a hand. “I know. And I don't disagree with your assessment, but without some sort of proof, there isn't much that I can do.”

Acey glanced at Shelly. “I ask you—what's the point of having a lawman in the family if they can't do you any good?”

“Acey, I can't break the law,” Jeb said patiently. “I want to nail the bastard who did this as much as you do, but we have to do it legally or else we'll end up on the wrong side of the law and in jail ourselves.”

Acey puffed up like an adder. “You'd arrest me? But not that son of a bitch Scott?”

Jeb sighed. “Let's leave it lie, OK? I don't need you getting beaten up and then thrown in jail because you tackled him. And you know I'm right.”

Acey shot him a furious look, then bent his head and concentrated on his coffee. An uncomfortable silence fell. To break it, Shelly asked, “How long do you think it'll take Nick and Sloan to drive the cattle back here?”

Jeb glanced at the big round chrome clock on the kitchen wall. “Hmm, it's been over an hour since we left them—even if they push the cows right smartly, it'll probably be at least another hour before they reach here.”

“Then I'm putting one of Maria's pies in the oven,” Shelly said, jumping to her feet. “She's got about a half dozen apple pies in the freezer, and I think this calls for one.”

Acey brightened up. “Good idea. Apple pie, mischief and coffee at 3:00
A.M.
Makes a good combination.”

Shelly laughed and, deciding that it was safe to leave Acey and Jeb alone, excused herself and ran upstairs to change into a pair of jeans and boots. When she came back downstairs it was to find Jeb and Acey with their heads together, almost whispering. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she was certain she caught Sloan's name and Scott's….

Hands on her hips, she stood in the doorway, and demanded, “OK, what are you two planning that you don't want me to know about?”

They both jumped and turned startled faces in her direction. Jeb recovered first. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled and said, “Now, Shelly, what makes you think we're up to something? We were just going over things.”

“Yeah, that's all,” chimed in Acey. “It was a real intense conversation. But we weren't planning anything.”

Shelly didn't believe them, but she knew that further probing would get her nowhere. But it bothered her. Linking Sloan's name with Scott's made her heart sink. Surely, they didn't think Sloan had hired Scott to turn the cows loose? She found it hard even to consider much less believe. The shades of all her ancestors rose up in her mind, each one berating her foolishness in trusting a Ballinger. She sighed. It was foolishness all right—foolishness to think that Sloan would be that underhanded.

She had just taken the pie from the oven and the second pot of coffee had just finished perking when the sounds of hooves and lowing cattle drifted inside the kitchen. As one, the three of them dashed outside, skidding to a halt as the first of the cows came ambling past them.

Almost as if they had done it for years, first one cow and then another meandered through the open gate and into the pen they had left hours ago. The last cow in, Acey shut the gate as Sloan and Nick dismounted.

After seeing to the horses, they all walked back to the house. The pie and coffee were appreciated, and if one didn't know better, it would have looked like they were having a celebration. In a way, it was. Acey was relatively unhurt and the cows were back safely in their pen. Everyone was aware of how much worse it could have been. No one wanted to talk about the blow that Beau's loss had given Shelly and Nick's brave new venture, and they stepped carefully around that subject. Milo Scott's name came up more than once, but Jeb reminded them, his gaze locked on Sloan's, that there was no proof.

Sloan leaned back in his chair, his tie gone, a couple of buttons of his mauve-and-burgundy shirt undone and a lock of black hair brushing across his wide forehead. Acey and Nick were heated about the subject, but Shelly noticed that Sloan hadn't said much—which made her wonder why Jeb was directing most of his warnings to him.

“Don't you think Scott is guilty?” Shelly asked, her eyes on Sloan's face.

“Oh, he did it, all right,” Sloan said carelessly. “I knew that, just as soon as I realized that it was Beau lying there on the hood of that car.” He smiled crookedly. “I'm no psychic, but it wasn't more than half an hour earlier that you'd told me about your lease problems with him. It was a simple jump.” His mouth grew grim. “I'd already decided that he'd probably try something, I just didn't figure he'd move so quickly.”

“So what are we going to do?” Nick demanded, his green eyes bright with anger.

Sloan smiled lazily. “There's nothing legally that we can do,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee, his gaze on Jeb's face. “After all, just like the big guy says, there's no proof.”

Acey and Nick were vociferous in their disdain for that argument, but Shelly put an end to the discussion. Picking up some of the empty plates, she walked to the counter. “It's late,” she said, putting the plates in the sink. “We're too tired to think rationally right now anyway. I suggest we call it a night.”

They followed her lead, Sloan lingering by the back door, as the others said good night and walked out into the night. Shelly had accompanied the men, and in the faint light from the kitchen she looked up at Sloan.

A half smile on her mouth, she said, “Seems our date had a little more excitement than I planned for, how about you?”

His fingers brushing her cheeks, he murmured, “This certainly wasn't how I expected it to end…although the hour is about right. And I had hoped that it would prove to be
very
exciting.”

Shelly's heart banged into her ribs. “Sloan…I don't think that this is a good idea.”

His mouth teased hers. “You think too much,” he said against her lips. And then he kissed her, his arms drawing her close to his long body.

It was several minutes later when he finally lifted his head. Both of them were breathing hard. Shelly's arms were around his neck, her lips already missing the warmth of his, her body aching for completion. She was aware that all he'd have to do was take her hand and lead her upstairs for her to follow him.

He touched her lips with one finger. “Keep my place for me, will you?”

Helplessly, she nodded.

A moment later he was gone.

Whistling softly, Sloan walked to the Suburban and slipped inside the big vehicle. A moment later the vehicle slid smoothly past the house, its lights making shadows jump and dodge as they swept across the trees and shrubs that lined the driveway.

Despite his calm words, if anyone had seen the expression on his face as the Suburban hit the pavement near the tiny St. Galen's Airport, it would have been obvious that he was anything but calm. By the time he eased into the silent town, the beast he had kept rigidly chained in front of the others had fought free. Drifting down the few narrow streets that constituted town, his dark face wore a look of savage concentration that would have caused many a brave warrior to step aside. Swiftly.

He stopped the vehicle in front of a small, ramshackle house and turned off the ignition. The house seemed to sit there sulking in the light from the streetlight a half a block away; the lawn, if it could be called that, overgrown and weedy, the garage door sagging half-open. Sloan considered the dwelling in front of him, trying without much success to tame the rage that clawed through him. This bastard, he thought, had hit out at Shelly. Had caused her pain and might have ruined her plans for the future of Granger Cattle. Personally, he didn't give a damn about Granger Cattle, but Shelly did, and that was the whole point. Shelly had her heart set on it and the son of a bitch who, no doubt, slept soundly inside this house had reached out and struck viciously at her. Jeb could spout the law all he wanted, but Sloan's mind was made up: Scott's attack couldn't and
wouldn't
b e tolerated.

For a big man, Sloan could move like a shadow. Slipping from the vehicle, he shut the door with barely a click, and, a second later, he was prowling on panther feet around the front of the garage. He stepped inside, the brief gleam from his flashlight revealing two mud-splattered four-wheel vehicles and Scott's truck parked inside the garage. Too much time had passed for the four-wheelers to tell him much, but he touched the hood of the vehicle nearest him, feeling for warmth anyway, not surprised that the engine was cold.

Stepping up to the door that led into the house from the garage, it took him only a minute to jimmy the lock. He smiled. Jeb had taught him that trick years ago.

Sloan slipped inside the darkened house, using another split-second gleam of his flashlight to give him the layout. The bedrooms lay down a short hall, and he eased open the door to the first one he came to, the sound of snoring reaching him as he stood there.

With a catlike tread he walked to the side of the king-size bed and flicked on the flashlight. The blinding light revealed Milo Scott asleep, his mouth half-open as he snored. Sloan was pleased. He would have been disappointed if his light had revealed someone other than Scott.