Twice A Target (Task Force Eagle) (15 page)

Chapter 15

Holt caught up with Maddy in the barn as she was
unsaddling Chica. He’d deliberately hung back to quell the storm raging inside
him.

Her impetuosity had cornered him into accepting help.
Or maybe she’d planned it. Maddy plan? Maybe. But that wasn’t what put a burr
under his saddle. She’d gone racing off across that field with no thought to
the possibility of the gunman’s return. Having her around would turn his hair
white.

Once this custody problem with Bobby ended, she’d
leave. But what if she went only as far as the Circle-S? Not that he ought to
care. Aggravating woman. He shook his head.

Lust, on the other hand, was familiar and manageable,
but he had to rein in unwanted possessive urges and protective instincts. If
he’d jumped into that corral while that pimply-faced prick had his hands on
Maddy, he’d have decked him. Not cool. Maybe acting engaged had simply confused
his libido. Like hell.

He walked his horse into the stall and peered across
at Maddy. “Okay, Sherlock, just what the hell did you find out?”

“Just a doggone minute, Donovan. I won our little horse
race, so you have to wait. You go first.”

He flipped up the stirrup and fender. Working his jaw,
he loosened the cinch. Sensing the strain in his hands, Bandito shook his head.
Holt soothed a palm down the sleek neck. “Will told me about a hand they had
who left the day after Rob and Sara died.”

Maddy’s single blink wasn’t the reaction he expected.
Not surprised? But she’d tell him her news in her own damn good time. The woman
could give lessons in obstinate.

He explained the Circle-S boss’s offer for Ghost
Mountain. “I wonder if his stubborn pride got him killed.”

Maddy shook her head. “I can’t see Will Rafferty
committing murder for Ghost Mountain. Hey, maybe there’s silver in that old
mine someone wants. But Will? No.”

“What little silver there was played out long ago. But
that wasn’t what I meant. I don’t know what I meant.” He scrubbed a hand over
his eyes.

Maddy lugged her saddle off the mare and deposited it
beside the other. “Family pride may not’ve caused Rob’s death, but it may have
kept the ranch from prospering. Like his older brother, he didn’t like
accepting help from others. Even old friends.”

She was something. Holt felt his mouth tilt in spite
of his doldrums. “Think you’re pretty smart herding me into having extra hands
for the branding.”

“Quid pro quo. The cowboy action shooting should be
fun.” She grinned and picked up a curry brush. Starting on her mount’s coat,
she said, “What did Will say about the drifter?”

“In March, he hired an extra hand to help finish the
stable. Fellow named K.C. Riggs was thirty-six according to his driver’s
license. Drove a small RV and kept to himself.”

“I imagine most of these drifters who sign on as
temporary hands are loners. So what else?”

“After he left, Will checked out his Social Security
number. No such animal. Keeping to yourself isn’t damning, but high-tailing it
when he did sure is suspicious.”

“So’s living under an assumed name. I read a mystery
once where a woman used old obituaries to find aliases. She pretended to be the
person and requested a card from Social Security to replace her lost one and
used it to get a driver’s license. Is it really that easy?”

“Unfortunately. Unless someone digs a little deeper,
like Rafferty did. I’ll phone the sheriff and grill Luke Saturday sometime
during the branding.”

“Do you suspect Luke?”

“Like I told Will, I suspect no one and everyone. I’m
just asking questions.”

He hauled the saddles over to the rack in the adjacent
tack room. After placing the saddle blankets upside down on the saddles to dry
out, he returned to slip the gelding’s bridle free. “Your turn, McCoy.”

Maddy had just finished placing buckets of water in
both stalls. A mischievous grin curved her lips. “The cliché of the strong,
silent type must have originated with the cowboy. It’s like coaxing a wild
animal to eat out of your hand. But he’ll talk if he has something to argue or
brag about.”

“You mean Slick.” Tension coiled in his gut, but he
forced himself to relax.

“A pretty face, but easily blinded by a little flash.”
She sashayed closer to Holt, swaying her hips seductively.

He knew exactly what she meant by flash, and it didn’t
come from a camera. Holt grabbed her upper arms and forced her to stand still
before him. Her scent drifted through his senses, obliterating horse and
leather smells.

“So you suckered him in.”
Just like me. And Rob.
He drew his brows together into a scowl, his only shield. “Go on.”

She smiled. “Slick boasted he could rope and wrangle
better than anyone in three counties. Faith had told me about that drifter, so
I let on I’d heard this Riggs was a fair hand with animals and a lasso.”

“Are you getting to the point anytime soon?”

Her smile faded to a grim line. “After he finished
sneering about the drifter not knowing a hammer from a horse, he dropped the
big one. He saw Riggs in his camper cleaning a high-tech high-caliber rifle.
Riggs slammed the door in his face.”

His pulse spiked at her words.
High-caliber rifle.
Like the one that shot out Rob’s tires and fired at Holt and Maddy that
morning.

“H-Holt. You’re hurting me.” She was prying at his
fingers clamped on her arms.

Horrified, he relaxed his fingers and dropped his
arms. He took a step back. “Shit. Sorry, Maddy.”

“Slick didn’t see anything else like a scope or
ammunition, I’m afraid.” Questions but not blame in her eyes, she rubbed her
arms.

Holt stalked back and forth in front of the horse
stalls. Flames of fury licked at him, but a cool head was the only recourse. He
had to be an investigator, not a brother, and not a target. “Riggs had no motive
for killing my family. According to Will, he didn’t even know them.”

But someone did. And that someone had wanted them
dead.

“Could he have met Sara when she went to the Circle-S
to visit Faith?”

“By the time Riggs showed up, Rob was keeping Sara away
from there.”

“Ah, the Ghost Mountain thing. And you don’t think he
was just hunting that morning? Maybe after the truck crashed down the mountain,
he took off because he was scared.”

“Any hunter who shoots game with an exploding .50
caliber bullet won’t have any trophy or meat to bring home. No, if he shot at
their tires, it was deliberate.”

“But why?” Her lower lip began to tremble, and she bit
down on it.

“The only explanation is that someone hired Riggs to
kill them.”

And the one behind the murder has returned. Or
hired another killer.

Fear for what could happen to Bobby edged into his
brain, and he pushed it away. He’d telephone the sheriff right away. If that
office had done nothing about finding Riggs, he knew a few guys in the Denver
DEA office who’d help him.

He had to do something. And fast.

Horror darkened Maddy’s eyes. “A paid killer? Like
a...hit man?”

“If it’s true, that about lets anyone at the Circle-S
off the hook. That operation’s in the black, but professional hired guns cost
more than a gold-trimmed saddle. Even if Will Rafferty expected to dig ore out
of Ghost Mountain, at the price of silver today, making any money would take
years.”

Gut as tight as a cinched saddle, he slammed a hand
against the tack room wall. “No, if someone’s paying this Riggs or whoever he
is, they have more resources than anyone around here. Why? And who would have
that kind of money to target Rob and Sara? And now maybe—”

“You...and me? Who indeed?” Tears glistened, and she
hugged herself, but not because of bruised arms.

He drew her into his arms, and she came as willingly
as she had by the stream. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave now. You
signed on for baby care, not murder.”

“I’ll stick. If I leave, it will be because I’m no use
to you. Or Bobby. And for no other reason.” She trembled, but didn’t raise her
face for his kiss.

Thank God. If she had, he might not stop this time.
Her warm curves fit him perfectly, and he could feel her contrasting textures
against his chest—the softness of her breasts and the insistent hardness of her
nipples. His need for her scraped at him with hot claws. He was no longer
certain sex with Maddy would cleanse her from his system.

He had a plan for finding K.C. Riggs or whoever the
shooter was, but what would he do about Madelyn McCoy?

*****

The telephone receiver dropped into its cradle with a
soft click. He spread his fingers on the polished mahogany of the desk, then
picked up a custom-made silver-and-gold inlaid knife and scraped it beneath his
polished fingernails.

The man standing before the desk took a cautious step
closer. “Success,
jefe
?”

“The fool!” The long knife blade snapped shut and open
again. “He has failed again.”

His employee licked his lips. “If you will permit,
perhaps it is just as well. Your enemy does not yet know why he should fear
your vengeance.”

His pulse faltered with sudden doubt, which he took
care not to show. With deliberation, he closed the knife and placed it on the
desktop. “Perhaps not.” He reached once more for the telephone. “I shall make
certain he does.”

*****

As if Bobby knew the day would bring excitement, he
woke the household up long before dawn on Saturday. Maddy didn’t mind. She was as
eager as he to begin the biggest day in the life of a ranch. Billowy white
clouds blocked the sun, but forecasters promised mild temperatures and no rain.

Esperanza and her sons, Danny and Sean, arrived as
Holt and Bronc were starting the branding fire and readying the tools. Maddy
held Bobby in her arms as she and Holt greeted them at the corral.

The two O’Grady boys looked like amalgams of their
parents. They had the blue-black hair of their Ute ancestry, but the Celtic
features and lanky build of their father. From the excited gleams in their
brown eyes, they couldn’t wait to be real cowboys, do real cowboy work. In
well-worn boots and trendy baggy jeans, they swaggered into the corral.

“You fellers ready to wrestle some calves?” Bronc
said, with a sidewise wink to their mother.

“You bet. I been practicin’ on little brother here,”
replied Danny, directing a punch at Sean’s shoulder.

Apparently used to his brother’s fists, Sean ducked.
“Danny couldn’t catch a calf if it sat on his feet, Mr. Bronc. I’m your man.”

“In the old days,” Bronc explained to the boys, “they
heated the irons over a wood fire, but our fire’s propane-fueled. More
reliable.” Spelling out their tasks for the day, he led them over to the pen
where the calves had been separated from their mothers.

When Holt approached, Maddy turned Bobby toward him.
Holt put a hand on her shoulder and bent to blow zerberts against Bobby’s
belly. She nearly purred at the warmth of his almost caress. The baby squealed
with delight and waved his fists.
Your fan club
.

“As long as Espie’s okay with both the cooking and my
little buddy here, you’re all set to do the vaccinations and ear notching,” he
said to Maddy.

“I can help Espie too if she needs me.” Maddy raised
her chin, ready to begin.

He tilted his hat to the women before disappearing
into the barn.

Her heart thumped at the sight of his long-legged
stride. He was every inch the proud rancher. The short chaps called chinks he
wore were more practical for working on the ground to do the branding, and they
accentuated his lean butt. And his denim shirt brought out the matching blue of
his eyes, compelling against his tan. She sighed.

He was working so hard to make a go of this shoestring
ranch, trying to be stoic and brave. Maybe he was even softening a little.
After all, he’d accepted the extra help she finagled without blowing up at her.

“He’s good with them, isn’t he?” Espie said, a bemused
expression on her broad face.

Maddy blinked in confusion. “Them?”

“My boys. Bronc’s good with them.”

Hoping Espie hadn’t noticed her distraction, Maddy
forced her gaze to where the ranch hand was showing Espie’s sons how to tackle
a calf. “A kind man,” she agreed. “He’s as patient with them as he is with the
horses. Do those boys know what they’re in for with this operation?”

The housekeeper laughed. “I don’t know. They’ve
watched from atop a fence before, over at a friend’s place, but there’s nothing
like the real thing.”

The real thing. Today was the real thing, for sure—the
real heart of ranch existence, rooted in tradition, branding the new spring
animals as your own. Protecting the calves by identifying them and vaccinating
them against diseases that could wipe out the herd.

Over the last few years, Maddy had pushed out of her
head how much she missed this life—its rituals, its animals, its oneness with
nature. Being part of it again brought home to her how artificial was her part
in it. How temporary.

Yesterday’s shooting had terrified her, for more than
one reason. Holt seemed convinced the shooter was the same person who killed
Rob. Slick’s glimpse of the drifter’s rifle seemed to support that. That the
killer might be after her and Holt was chilling enough, but the experience had
also forced her to face what lurked in her heart. And to see that she couldn’t
stay here.

She couldn’t leave with no one to care for Bobby and
with the grandparents’ lawsuit hanging over Holt like an executioner’s ax. Yet
if she stayed much longer, she feared she wouldn’t be able to leave at all. She
had long ago given her heart to Bobby. With every shared moment, every small
intimacy, every kiss, she felt herself falling in love with Holt.