Rancher's Wife

by Anne Marie Winston

  She went back inside and put away the unused breakfast things. The men would be starving when they returned, but she wouldn’t know whether to feed them breakfast, lunch or dinner until they came back. Horse thieves. She couldn’t believe they’d come so close to the house! Reaction set in, and as she replaced boxes of cereal in the pantry, her hands began to shake.

  She linked them together and squeezed until her wedding band cut into her flesh. Then she realized that Day had ridden out so fast he hadn’t had a chance to call the sheriff, so she did.

  “I’ll be out as soon as I can get away,” he promised. “Don’t let anyone disturb the barn area. There might be prints or tracks we can lift. If Day comes back, tell him to stay put until we talk.”

  It wasn’t until after she’d hung up the receiver that she realized she’d completely forgotten to ask him if he’d made any progress finding out who was after her. Oh, well. Right now they had bigger things to worry about.

  Beth Ann awoke an hour later and she fed her breakfast, grateful for the child’s constant chatter that kept her fears at bay. As she was surveying the contents of the big freezer, trying to decide what to thaw for the evening meal, she heard the unmistakable sound of a car coming up the ranch road.

  “Angel! Somebody’s coming!” Beth Ann’s excited voice confirmed it.

  She closed the freezer and walked through the house and onto the front porch, shading her eyes for a better view in the too-bright day. She’d hoped that it was Karl again, but this car was a smaller sedan in a dusty dark blue. Probably a salesman, she thought.

  As the car rolled to a halt, she walked out to meet the dark-haired man just visible behind the wheel. He must have missed the No Soliciting sign posted at the main highway. If the guy was lucky, she could send him on his way before Day saw him. Day’s impatience with salesmen approached dangerous proportions sometimes.

  “Hello,” she said as the man stepped from the car.

  “Hello.” He was tall and slender, soft voiced, with a carefully knotted tie and large reflective sunglasses hiding his eyes from the fierce desert sun.

  She smiled, puzzled when he didn’t state his purpose for being on the ranch. “You must have missed the sign.”

  “No.” He smiled back. “I didn’t have any trouble finding the ranch.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize—” She stopped, more than a little confused. Day hadn’t mentioned inviting company today. “I thought you were a salesman.”

  His smile faded. “Angelique. Don’t you recognize me?” The wattage in his smile increased again. “It must be the glasses,” he said, reaching up and removing them.

  The moment she heard him utter her name, she knew. Time slowed and stopped, and for a moment she honestly thought she might swoon, the world swirling and whirling around her until everything faded into black.

  But she didn’t. As he took off the glasses, she took deep, fortifying breaths. Oh, God. She did know him! Though she never would have remembered him in three lifetimes if she hadn’t seen him again. He was the man who had tried to get her number from Karl several weeks ago!

  What was his name...Jared? Jason? No, Janson. That was it. Janson Brand. A stage name if she’d ever heard one. He’d been an extra in the first film she’d ever done, the one that had started her career, and she’d gone out with him once, maybe twice. As memory returned, so did understanding. He’d grown up in Las Cruces, he’d told her, and she’d been so homesick for New Mexico and so pleased to meet someone from close to home that she’d told him of her early life around Deming. No wonder he’d been able to find her so easily. He was one of the few people in the world who knew where she’d come from. He must have guessed she’d come back here when she vanished—she’d probably even told him Dulcie was her best friend when they were trading “did-you-knows” and “do-you-remembers” all those years ago.

  Uncomfortably she remembered how intense he’d been, how crushed, when she’d decided not to go out with him anymore. She’d still been too raw from her failed marriage and losing Emmie to be looking for a serious relationship. As soon as she’d realized that he was beginning to consider her more than just a friend, she’d backed away.

  With a start, she realized he was waiting expectantly for her response. Fear rose in her. She couldn’t imagine this man writing those horrible letters, but he must have. Heaven only knew what was going on in his head.

  “Janson!” she said. “How nice to see you. How have you been?”

  His expression clouded momentarily. “All right.”

  If she treated him normally, courteously, perhaps he’d respond in kind. She could invite him in for coffee and keep him there until the sheriff arrived. Keeping her voice carefully friendly, she asked, “What have you been doing with yourself since I last saw you? A list of credits a mile long, I’ll bet.”

  “No,” he said slowly, and she could almost see him wilting. “Actually, work has been rather difficult to find. I’ve never...hit it big like you did.”

  She didn’t know what to say. Once they’d both been young unknowns. He still was. “There’s still plenty of time,” she offered gently. “Your big break is probably right around the corner.”

  “I hope so.” She found the way he brightened again somehow pathetic. “And won’t it be wonderful to share our successes together, darling?”

  She froze. His voice was far too intimate. “But, Janson, you know I’m married now—”

  “You can get a divorce.” His voice rang with impatience. “I’ve waited so long to be with you. I can’t wait any longer. Are you ready to go?”

  The jarring switch from reality to...to whatever he was thinking had her fumbling for a reply. “Go? I can’t go anywhere.” She gestured to Beth Ann, who had come forward and was hovering at her side peering out at Janson. “I have a child to take care of now.”

  “We have to go.” Out of nowhere, it seemed, he produced a sleek black pistol. As he waved it at her, a huge ball of fear expanded in her stomach.

  Automatically she shoved Beth Ann behind her.

  “Come along, Angelique. We’ll have to take the child along, I suppose.”

  “No, wait!” Her brain was racing ahead, examining all the angles of this bizarre turn of events. It was clear that Janson Brand had been the one stalking her all this time, just as it was becoming increasingly obvious that he wasn’t rational. At least, not about her.

  If Beth Ann went with them, she was afraid he might turn on the child as he thought more about the relationship between Angel and Day. She couldn’t allow him to hurt Beth Ann.

  “Look,” she said desperately, “she’ll get in our way. Besides, if I take her, her father will be sure to come after us. It would be better to leave her here.”

  “All right, but hurry.” He turned his wrist and checked his watch. Dull sparks of light shot off the surface of the dark pistol. “We’re already late.”

  Late for what? Terrified and praying that Beth Ann wouldn’t realize it, she snatched up the little girl and hurried to the porch. Setting her on the steps, she took Beth Ann’s face between her hands, hoping against hope that the child could absorb everything she was going to say. “Beth Ann, listen carefully. I need you to be a very big girl for Daddy and me right now.”

  The child’s eyes were wide. “Dat man has a gun.”

  Angel nodded. “I know. Listen. I’m going to get in the car and go away with that man. As soon as you can’t see the car anymore, you run out to the fire bell—” she wanted to point to the tall pole on which the fire bell was mounted but she didn’t dare “—and ring that bell until Daddy comes home. He’ll come fast when he hears the bell. Tell Daddy that the man took me and that he has a gun and that we’re in a blue car. Can you do that?”

  Beth Ann nodded, her small face pinched. Her lower lip began to tremble. “But I don’t want you to—”

  “I have to! I don’t want to but that bad man is making me go.” She kissed the child and stood. “Run and ring the bell as soon as
you can’t see the car anymore, okay?”

  Beth Ann nodded again. “Okay.”

  “Good girl!” Angel was already turning and walking back toward the blue car. Janson was waiting, the pistol held casually in one hand as he opened her door with an old-fashioned courtesy that didn’t match the gun’s menace.

  Surely there had to be a way to get that gun. Everything she’d ever learned warned her not to get in that car and go with him. Then she’d be at his mercy.

  But if she didn’t, he might hurt Beth Ann.

  * * *

  Day was miles away on the range when he heard the fire bell. They’d found the mares a while back, loose on the range. Puzzling. It almost made him think they’d gotten out by accident, but he didn’t know of any way a horse could open the barn doors.

  They’d rounded up the mares and started back toward the house. Then, twenty minutes ago, one of the men had discovered Corky, drugged and tied to a cottonwood tree near the wash.

  His heart had nearly stopped when he’d realized the implications of that find. Leaving one of the men to bring the barely conscious dog home across his saddle, Day had wheeled his horse and started back for the house as fast as he’d dared.

  Whoever had taken the horses hadn’t wanted them. All he’d wanted to do was create a diversion. And once Corky had been put out of action, there was absolutely nothing to stop him from coming right into the house after Angel.

  He couldn’t ever remember being so terrified in his entire life, not even when he’d thought he might really lose Beth Ann.

  Beth Ann! His child was with Angel. Unprotected. As he raced for the house, the fire bell began to ring, and after that first terrible moment of understanding what the noise was, he began to curse steadily, outrage and anger building inside him with every hoofbeat.

  He’d kill anyone who tried to harm the woman and child he loved.

  He was wild-eyed when he finally rode into the yard. Spotting Beth Ann holding the long rope on the fire bell, her little body jerking as she pulled, he dismounted before his horse had come to a halt and scooped her into his arms. Relief made his muscles weak as he clutched her to him.

  “Where’s the fire, filly?” He was straining his eyes for smoke, sniffing for the telltale odor, and it was a minute before he realized Angel was nowhere to be seen. Beth Ann was shuddering and crying in his arms, and he had to take precious moments to calm her down before he could understand what she was trying to tell him.

  “N-n-no fire, D-Daddy. A b-b-bad man taked A-A-Angel away.” Tears rolled down her chubby cheeks and she gasped between sobs, “Wif a g-g-g-gun.”

  His entire body went still. This was beyond his worst nightmare. “What did the man look like, Beth Ann? Can you remember anything about what he was wearing or his hair color?”

  “H-he had a blue car.” Beth Ann sobbed again and he rubbed her back soothingly. “Angel said she didn’t w-want to go and she told me to ring the b-b-bell ’til you comed.”

  He carried her with him, wrapped around his neck like a monkey, as he ran inside to call the sheriff, only to find the man was already on his way to the ranch, thanks to a call from Angel earlier in the morning. In a few terse sentences, he explained what had happened to the dispatcher, who promised to call for reinforcements.

  In a few more minutes, the yard was filled with men and horses. He stood on the hood of his truck and told them what he knew, then prepared to leave. Joe-Bob and Smokey were going to follow in a second truck, while Wes would stay and supervise the rest of the hands and care for Beth Ann.

  When he handed her to Wes with a last kiss, she began to scream and beg him not to leave her. She was too little and too scared to understand that he had no choice, he thought grimly. As he gunned the engine and raced down the lane, her little voice rose to a frantic shriek. “Da-a-a-ad-deeee!”

  Leaving his traumatized child behind was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do in his life. It ranked right up there with setting out to find his wife, fearing she might be dead at the hands of a madman already.

  * * *

  Janson Brand talked the whole way down the bumpy road to the main highway.

  Angel barely heard a word he said. All her attention was focused on that ugly black pistol he clutched in his right hand as he gripped the wheel. How to get that gun away from him? Her mind raced, but no incredibly brilliant solutions appeared.

  Twice they stopped at cattle gates and he asked her to open them. She could practically feel the intensity of his interest directed at her as she got out of the car and opened the heavy gates, then closed them behind the car again after he pulled through. The urge to run was so strong she nearly couldn’t resist it, but she beat it back.

  There was no place to run out here. The land was so flat he could see her for miles. Even if she did manage to get away from him, up to where the land sloped into rolling hills, she’d have to be found fast or she’d die without water.

  She was still working on that problem when they came to the third and final gate. There was a sparse scattering of cattle nearby. With a start, she recognized Old Red, the dangerous bull Day had cautioned her about time after time. She opened her mouth to warn Janson, then caught herself and shut it again.

  How could she use the bull’s dislike of humans to her advantage? He’d kill her if she got out of the car. And Janson might kill you if you don’t. Some choice.

  “Angelique, would you please open the gate?” His voice was courteous and pleasant, but she’d already learned that he would shift into a frighteningly unstable fury if she challenged him. With the fingers of her right hand, she cradled her left forearm. He’d grabbed it in a blind rage minutes ago when she’d tried to reason with him once again. She knew there were going to be marks.

  The only good thing was that he seemed to forget almost instantly that she was his prisoner. In whatever fantasy he inhabited, she was with him because she loved him.

  And she’d better not forget it.

  “Angelique!” His voice had risen and she jumped. When he went on, the fracture in his smooth tones warned her he would explode again if she wasn’t careful. “I asked you to open the gate.”

  “But, Janson, I’m afraid.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  He laughed, not unkindly. “It’s a good thing I’m taking you away from ranching, if you’re afraid of cows. They’re harmless.”

  “Not that bull.” She hesitated, then seized the only excuse she could think of, the only thing that might help her now. “That bull hates women. Everyone on the Red Ar-row knows it.” If he knew much about cattle, she was sunk. No bull she’d ever heard of could tell a man from a woman if the woman wasn’t wearing skirts.

  “He hates women?” Janson repeated.

  “He’ll go after a woman every time, but he won’t bother men,” she elaborated. Was he swallowing this or was he going to break out in another one of those maniacal rages? A trickle of sweat rolled down her temple, despite the air-conditioning cooling the interior of the car.

  Janson appeared to think that over. Then he shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to open this gate, then, won’t I? You’re too precious to risk.”

  Her whole body felt shaky with relief as he put the car in park with the engine idling, then opened his door and stepped out. When she saw that he was taking the gun, her heart sank even though she’d expected it. As soon as he was out of earshot, she unclipped her seat belt.

  Old Red was on the far side of the car from the driver’s door and he didn’t see Janson immediately. But as the man cleared the vehicle’s hood and strode toward the gate, the bull snorted and pawed the ground.

  Janson’s head swung toward the bull, then back to the car, and she could see the uncertainty and dawning fear in his face. It was now or never.

  She lunged across the seat, fumbling for the automatic gearshift and shoving it into reverse at the same instant that she slammed her left foot down onto the pedal. As the car picked up speed, she righted herself in the seat,
transferred her right foot to the gas and grabbed for the door handle.

  Janson was screaming and running toward her, but he couldn’t run fast enough to catch the car as she lurched backward. And coming at him, faster than anyone would ever believe, was Old Red. Turning the wheel, she veered into a sharp backward turn, slammed on the brake and started forward, flooring it on the road back to the ranch.

  A shot rang out and she ducked reflexively but didn’t slow her speed. A quick check in the rearview mirror, however, showed her that Janson wasn’t shooting at her. He’d gone down on one knee and was aiming straight at the raging bull surging toward him.

  She averted her eyes, unable to bear the thought of Old Red dying because of her.

  * * *

  Day was a little more than halfway out the ranch road, driving like a bat out of hell, when he saw a cloud of dust in the distance. It quickly resolved itself into a blue sedan, driving a whole lot faster than was safe or comfortable on the rutted road.

  Without hesitation, he braked the pickup, grabbing his rifle and opening the door in one smooth motion. Vaulting into the bed of the truck, he braced the gun on the roof and sighted down the barrel. Give me a reason to kill you, mister.

  As the blue car approached, it slowed. He lined up the cross hairs on the driver’s door as the car skidded to a halt. “Get out and get your hands up!”

  Sunlight bounced off the windshield, hiding whoever was inside. Slowly the door began to open. A blond head appeared, and with dawning incredulity, he realized he had Angel squarely in his sights. He damn near jumped down and ran toward her before he remembered that the man might be hiding in the car.

  “Walk over here if you can,” he called to her. “Are you alone?”

  Her eyes focused on him and she nodded. She took a step, then another, and as he watched, slowly dropped to her knees in the dusty road.

  He did race to her then, his heart pounding with fear. Had the guy shot her? Was she bleeding? The second he reached her, he began to run his hands over her in a frantic quest for her injuries. “Where is he? What did he do to you?” It occurred to him that he didn’t even know who had taken her. “Do you know him?”