The Rancher (38 page)

her dress hadn’t gotten caught, she ran

straight and hard toward the saddled brown and white Appaloosa.

Why is there a fully saddled horse out in the pasture?
 
she wondered, but kept running.

The crunching sound of gravel being ground underfoot made Abby dare another glance backward.  She turned to see Cole slide on the tiny bits of rock around the paddock.   He bent forward to catch himself from falling.   His hand barely touched the ground before he corrected his footings.

Abby watched in awe as Cole simply jumped the paddock fence and mounted one of the stock horses bareback.  He rode

the brown and white paint around the perimeter of the makeshift corral before he broke the horse into a run straight

toward the enclosure wall.  He cleared the first fence, then the second and once again Cole was after her.

The whoops and hollers of the others pushed her forward. More ranch hands had now collected in the yard, watching.  Abby whipped around at a run.   The Appaloosa had romped off back toward the corral.  She looked ahead, focusing on a large rock formation jutting out of the ground and was determined to make it there before surrendering.   Cole was gaining on her. She could feel it.

Being on foot would give her the advantage when rounding the rock.  She would gain some time if she could just make it there before him. Laughter bubbled inside of her.  Whether it was

from her newfound liberation or the thrill

of having a very handsome cowboy chasing after her, she was uncertain.

The grassy hay field had been cut recently, but tiny wildflowers of yellow, blue, and violet peeked through the blunt green blades. Specks of cotton flowers danced in the air and swirled about her as

she whisked by.  The sun, still very low in the sky, cast a warm glow around the meadow.

One moment she was a few steps from her intended destination and in the next a muscular arm reached out to her, grasping her around the waist just beneath her breasts, and hauled her through the air. The earth swirled around her.

With a thump, Abby landed on the stockhorse’s bare back facing a breathless Cole.  His arm, still wrapped around her,

pulled her close into his solid chest. The white linen shirt he wore was open slightly at the collar and Abby saw the beads   of  sweat  formulated   at  the

fascinating indent where his neck met his shoulder.

Cole led the horse in a broad circle, still at a gallop.

“You are riding next to me,” he said as he leaned into her, his breath tickling her ear with the whisper. Though his words were stern, she noted the slight upturn at the edges of Cole’s beautiful mouth when he pulled back and sat up straight.  His arms kept her captive as he held the horse’s mane.

Abby’s witty retort caught in her throatas he brought the gelding to a halt.  With agrin plastered on his incredibly handsome

face, he slowly descended his head toward her. His strong arms encircled her, and she fought the urge to stare at his mouth.  Her heart raced.  She wet her lips with her tongue and closed her eyes in sweet expectation.

Nothing happened.  She opened one eye to find him staring at something behind her, in the same direction of the old boulder.

Feeling foolish, she pushed against him.

He didn’t move.  He ignored her, his arms a rock vice around her. She tried to

twist around to see what had carried him away, but she couldn’t move.

“What is it?” Abby couldn’t have missed the drastic change in his demeanor. All humor was gone from his face.

Cole’s lips pursed and his eyesnarrowed. Determination etched everyline of his face. He relaxed his holdaround her, if only a little, and pulled thehorse about face.  With little effort he had

the gelding once again at a gallop.  Abby lurched backward and his arm tightened around her. She instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned into his

chest.

When they reached the edge of the meadow, Cole lifted her down with ease from the horse.

“Go in the house, my little spitfire, and do not come out until I come back.” There was no hint of playfulness in his voice

now.

“Come on, Charcoal,” Rafe bantered.

She stared back at him out of defiance

and held her ground.

“What could it hurt?” Rafe asked.

“Come on, little brother, we’ll keep her outta trouble.” Raine joined the teasing.

“Go.” Cole’s eyes had become black as iron, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

“What is it, Cole?”  The smile faded from Raine’s expression and his eyebrows furrowed into genuine concern.

Shivers made their way up and down Abby’s arms. Cole had seen something out there that had frightened him.  She knew this place better than anybody and if her ranch needed defending, she wanted to be on the front lines.

She nodded and headed for the house.  The pistol hidden in her boot may not besufficient.

Where’s my rifle?

Chapter Nineteen

“It’s Caleb.  He’s dead.”  Clay knelt next to the lifeless body of the old ranch hand.

Splotches of blood glistened on the large rock and pooled around the man’s head. Cole kicked the earth.  He did not like this one bit.  It was too close.

“Looks like his horse threw him.” Rafe sifted through the upturned dirt at the base of the rock.

“An accident?” Cole stared skeptically at his brother. “You’re telling me
 
this
 
was an accident?”

“I’m telling you it was meant to look

like an accident.” Rafe stood up and threw

the remaining dust from his hand. “There were at least three horses right here as recently as this morning,” he told them.  “I’d imagine that saddled Appaloosa over there is one of them, but as for the others,” he shook his head, “there are too many fresh tracks to tell for sure.”

“How does he know all that?” Clay leaned into Cole and whispered.

“Experience,” Cole replied through the side of his mouth.

Rafe had been taught how to track bythe Pawnee Indians.  He was the best Cole

had ever seen.

“Impressive. Does he always get it right?”

“Usually.” Cole moved back over to the body and looked at Raine.  “Here help me get him wrapped up and onto my horse.

We’ll need to take him back with us.”

Clay stood, his fists balled tight and hisjaw clenched.

“I’m sorry about this, Clay,” Cole saidin a whisper.  He knew what it was like.

“He had no family to speak of.  Calebwas the kind of man to keep mostly tohimself.  Still, we were friends.”

“Found this in the middle of all that tall

grass.” Rafe held up a wooden plank and rotated it.  The edge was dented in and still sticky with blood.

“How did this happen?”

“Someone hit Caleb over the head and

threw him over by the rock to make it look like and accident,” Rafe detailed.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” Cole threw a sardonic smile at his brother.

“How could we let this happen, right

under our noses? What if that had been Abby?” Cole shuddered at the thought.

Raine helped Cole lift the rolled blanket with Caleb’s body inside over the saddle on Raine’s stock horse.

“Hey, Clay, didn’t you say that when your foreman was killed he was holding the black handkerchief in his hand?”

“Yes.”

Raine pointed to the arm visible fromthe edge of the blanket.   A small tornpiece of paper protruded from his stiff,closed fist. He wiggled it free and held itup, crinkled and dirty.

“There’s no black cloth, just this.” Raine smoothed the wrinkles and handed

the note to Clay who squinted as he tried to make out the letters that had been

scratched onto the yellowing paper.

“It’s not a complete message.  It only says, ‘Sorry, I didn’.   That’s it.”   He passed it to Cole.

“What would Caleb have to be sorry about?” Raine asked.

Clay shrugged. “I didn’t even know he

could write.”

“What’s this?” Cole leaned toward Rafe, holding out the note and pointing to a small character at the edge of the torn piece.

“Looks like the number nine and W.  Do you think he was trying to tell us something?” Rafe asked.

“Could be,” Cole responded and then showed the marking to both Clay and Raine.

Clay took the paper from him. “That’s not a nine.” He rotated the paper and

pointed to the written letters. “See? It’s a G. MG. Max Grayson.”

“I shoulda known Jenna Grayson would be involved.”

Cole looked up at Abby, astride Old Jack, carrying her rifle across her lap.  Hedropped his head in defeat.

“Does she ever listen?” he asked Clay.

“Nope.”

How the hell was he supposed toprotect her if she wouldn’t listen?

“Let’s get him back to the house.” Colelifted his chin toward Caleb’s lifelessbody. “I’d like to pay Mr. Grayson a visitafter church.” Cole folded the paper andtucked it neatly into his back pocket.

Abby opened her mouth to speak.

“And no, you’re not coming.”

Cole stared at the fresh mound wherethey’d buried Caleb’s body.  Frustrated atthe answers that eluded him, he grabbedhis shirt from the fence post and walkedtoward the house, where the others hadalready gathered.

“Maybe after church we can convince Reverend Harris to come out and providea eulogy over the grave.” Martha wassuggesting to those sitting at the table as hewalked through the kitchen.

Raine snorted.  When Martha stared athim through narrowed eyes, he sat upstraight in his chair.  “Excuse me, ma’am.  He’s just new to the parsonage and needsa little… a… convincing.  I’ll be surprisedif he’s giving a sermon today.” Raine’svoice carried into the living room as Cole

passed through.

Cole walked into his new bedroom and

tossed his shirt onto the bed.  He moved to the washstand, leaned down, and rested his elbow on either side of the basin, his hands in his hair.  His reflection mirrored

the dark circles that had formed under his

eyes.

So many things had happened over the last couple of days, and trying to function on the hour or so of sleep he’d gotten last night was not boding well for his mood.  He scooped some of the cool water from the basin into his hands and splashed his face.  Through the drips of water coming off his eyelashes, he spotted the nail ring sitting on the far corner of the washstand and he picked it up.

“Were you close?”

Cole shot up to find Abby standing inthe doorway to their room. He set downthe ring, reached up and pulled the clothdown from the edge of the mirror, andpatted his face and neck dry.

“You and Alaric, I mean.”

Cole did not want to talk about Alaric

right now.  He picked up his shirt from the bed and threw it over his shoulders, neglecting the buttons.

Abby took a step into the room.  He longed to reach out to her, to touch her face. To offer some sort of comfort or