by Janet Dailey
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Luke, mounted on a bay stallion named Ranger, took a long gulp of water and passed the canteen back to her. “Every place out here looks the same to me.”
“I’m sure,” Erin said. “I grew up riding out here, and going bird hunting with Jasper. When the sheriff described the place where they found him, I knew exactly the spot he meant. Jasper and I could always find quail and doves in that wash. I’d flush them out and Jasper would bring them down with his shotgun. They make good eating if you’ve got the patience to dress them.” Her throat tightened at the mention of her old friend.
“I know about quail and doves. My grandmother was the devil with a shotgun. I used to dress the ones she bagged on the farm. It took about a dozen of them to make a meal for us.” Luke scanned the horizon.
Erin had told him about the circumstances of Jasper’s death and the missing pistol they’d be looking for. She still wasn’t sure whether he took her suspicions seriously or if he’d only come along to make sure she was safe. Either way, it was reassuring to have him with her, especially since he was wearing a gun belt with a Smith and Wesson .38 in the holster.
“Over there, about fifty yards.” She indicated the direction with a nod. “See that crooked bush? That’s the spot.”
“I see it. Let’s find some shade for the horses. We’re more likely to see something useful if we go on foot from here.”
“Maybe—providing the sheriff’s men left anything for us to see. I can imagine their big clumsy boots stomping out any evidence that might’ve been left behind.”
They tethered the stallions in the lacy shade of a mesquite. Erin felt a painful twinge as she put her weight into the left stirrup and swung out of the saddle. Tightening her jaw, she willed herself to ignore it.
They walked carefully toward the edge of the wash, looking down. “I see plenty of tire tracks,” Luke said.
“That would be the sheriff’s Jeep.” Erin walked a little farther, trying not to limp. “See, right here is where they got out, the sheriff on this side, and his deputy, Roy Porter, on the driver’s side. I went through school a year behind Roy. I’m hoping he’ll be willing to talk to me about what they found here.”
“I don’t see anything else yet, do you?”
“Just the tracks that Roy and the sheriff left. At least we know what they look like.” Erin paused, scanning the ground ahead. “There’s a trail that goes along the edge of the wash. There—those tire tracks are from Jasper’s ATV. See where they swing and go right off the edge? Careful where you step. If anybody else was here, this is where they would have been.”
“I don’t see anything but those damned big boot prints. They’re all over the place. If there were any other tracks here, they’ve been covered.”
“Let’s keep going,” Erin said. “Farther up the trail there’s a place where we can climb down into the wash.”
They followed the ATV tracks up the trail, finding nothing else. “Maybe I was wrong after all,” Erin said as they made the rocky descent into the wash. “Maybe Jasper just had a stroke or heart attack and went over the edge.”
“Wouldn’t the medical examiner have discovered that?”
“The medical examiner for this county is just a general practitioner. He made an educated guess, with Jasper’s age as a factor. According to the sheriff, the only marks on Jasper were from the wreck. If we find that missing pistol where it would have fallen, there’ll be less reason to suspect that someone else was there when he died.”
Moving down the wash, they could see the wrecked ATV ahead, still waiting to be pulled out and hauled away. It had gone over sideways, crushing a deep-rooted clump of sagebrush where it had landed top-down. The bed of the wash was covered with rocks, gravel, and small boulders, carried down from the escarpment by untold years of flash flooding. No tracks were visible here, even though the sheriff and his deputy would’ve taken plenty of steps, recovering Jasper’s body and searching around the ATV for any evidence.
But had they looked under the wreck? Glancing at Luke, Erin met his eyes and realized they both had the same idea.
The four-wheeler was lying at a slant, its wheels in the air. One corner was propped up by the partly crushed branches of the sagebrush plant.
“If the pistol’s anywhere, it would be under here.” Erin dropped to her knees. As she leaned forward for a better look, Luke stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t try to go down there until we get it braced,” he said. “And no reaching under with your hand. You never know what might’ve crawled in there to get out of the sun. Stay put while I look for a rock to shore up that corner.”
He moved down the wash, searching among the rubble for a boulder substantial enough to stabilize the ATV but not too heavy to carry. Erin watched his easy stride, admiring the way his perspiration-soaked shirt clung to his muscular arms and shoulders. He looked like a man who could handle anything—a man who would keep her safe.
When she’d first thought of coming here, she’d planned on coming by herself. Now she realized what a foolish idea that had been. This was a dangerous place, where it would be all too easy to lose her balance on the rocks, to be crushed by a slip of the ATV, or even bitten by a rattlesnake. A man had died here under suspicious circumstances. If anyone was involved in Jasper’s death, they might not like her snooping around. Alone, she would be almost helpless.
Still searching, Luke moved beyond her sight. A shiver of apprehension crept up Erin’s spine. Even knowing that he was minutes away, she felt vulnerable without him.
The seconds ticked by, only to be broken by the sudden, loud report of a gunshot. Acting on reflex, Erin ducked low, her heart slamming. “Luke!” she called. “Are you all right?”
“Fine. But I can’t say the same for the rattler.” He strode into sight, one hand holstering his pistol, the other hand carrying a hefty rock. “Blasted critter almost got me when I reached for this rock. That’ll teach me to keep a better lookout.”
Kneeling, he shoved the rock under the corner of the ATV, where it would catch the weight if the vehicle shifted.
“One more thing.” Picking up a broken branch, he thrust it under the overturned chassis of the ATV and moved it around to check for anything hiding in the shade. “Nothing there, as far as I can tell,” he said. “Want me to take a look?”
“You don’t know what to look for. I do.” Erin took off her hat and got down on her belly. There was an eight-inch space between the chassis, which had no roll bar, and the ground. She crawled close enough to peer into it. As her eyes became accustomed to the dim light, she could make out what would have been the top side of the ATV—the seats, the steering mechanism, the brake, and the holster where Jasper would have put his pistol. But there was no pistol, not on the vehicle or on the ground beneath.
She sat up. “I couldn’t see a gun, or anything else that might be a clue to what happened.”
Luke took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Her ankle had become so tender that she could barely put weight on it. “I’ve looked all around for the pistol,” he said. “If you didn’t find it, I think it’s safe to say that it isn’t here. Now let’s get you back to the ranch before somebody thinks you’ve run off with the hired help.”
Erin laughed because she knew he was joking—although she had to admit the idea had some appeal. Being with Luke was intoxicating, and the forbidden element lent an extra spark to every meeting of their eyes, and every accidental touch.
But she was a sensible young woman. Luke wasn’t interested in her. And even if he were, such a reckless choice on her part would break her father’s heart.
To climb out of the wash, they would need to go back up the narrow, rocky trail where they’d come down. Luke walked slightly behind her, lending his arm for support as they climbed toward the rim. Erin’s ankle was throbbing, but she knew better than to expect him to carry her as he had last night. On the treacherous ground, unable to see where he wa
s stepping, he could lose his footing and send them both tumbling.
“Stop! Look at this!” He caught her arm to steady her as she turned back. Erin went cold as she saw what he’d found.
On the right-hand side of the trail was a spot where sand had washed down and filled a space between the rocks, leaving a smooth patch that glittered in the blazing sun. There on the sand, faint but unmistakable, was the shallow print of a boot sole—a narrow cockroach kicker with a long, pointed toe.
* * *
From her hiding place in the rocks above the wash, Marie Fletcher watched the man and the slender young woman walk back toward the place where they’d left their horses. Spitting her chew on the ground, she uttered a string of curses that would have made a drunken sailor blush. Seven years in the hell of Gatesville Women’s Prison, where she’d served time for armed robbery, had done wonders for her vocabulary.
Now she was out on parole, planning to slip across the border and start a new life in Mexico. But for that she was going to need money—and getting that money, along with the right business connections, depended on her carrying out a mission of revenge.
Marie had nothing personal against Erin Tyler. But Stella Rawlins did. And Stella held the key to everything Marie wanted.
Stella and Marie had a long history. In Blanco Springs, back when Stella had owned the Blue Coyote, they’d gone from being partners in crime to bitter enemies. When they’d reconnected in Gatesville, where Stella had been sentenced for kidnapping and murder, they’d circled each other like a couple of hissing cats before deciding to join forces once more. It had been a good idea. Together, they’d become powerful and feared in the complex social structure of prison life.
Stella would never leave Gatesville. She was serving a life sentence with no parole. She also suffered from emphysema and diabetes. Wheezing and overweight, she would almost certainly die in prison. But there was one thing Stella wanted—revenge on the young kidnapping victim whose testimony had put her behind bars.
Even now, remembering what Stella had said, Marie could almost hear her rasping voice. “If it wasn’t for that little Tyler bitch, I’d be free and living high. When you get out, Marie, I want you to find her and make her pay. I don’t care how you kill her. Just do it, so I can die happy.”
“So, what’s in it for me?” Marie had asked.
Stella had smiled, showing a missing front tooth. “Don’t worry, I’ve got that covered. When I left Blanco Springs, I left a stash of heroin—solid bricks, at least a half million dollars’ worth—as a sort of insurance policy. Nobody knows where it is but me. Bring me proof that the girl’s dead, and I’ll tell you where that stash is. Not only that, I’ll tell you how to contact my friend Don Ramón, in Mexico. He can shelter you and set you up fine.”
Agreeing to kill the girl had been an easy decision. Marie had killed before. She killed coldly and efficiently, without a twinge of regret. Killing the girl would be no problem. But the last thing she wanted was to end up back in prison for murder. However the young Miss Tyler was to die, it couldn’t be traced back to Marie. Ideally it would look like an accident.
Much like the real accident that had killed the old man.
His death hadn’t been part of Marie’s plan. In fact it hadn’t even been her fault. She’d encountered the old man on the trail by pure chance. His startled expression told her he’d recognized her from years ago, which meant she’d be smart to kill him. But before she could act, he’d gone rigid and run the ATV off the rim of the wash. When she’d climbed down there, she’d found him dead.
Since there was nothing she could have done, even if she’d wanted to, she’d picked up his loaded pistol from the ground, picked his pockets with a handkerchief covering her fingers, and left the scene.
She examined the .38 now, hefting its weight and checking the cylinder. She’d needed a gun, and this one had almost fallen into her lap. She could use the $360 cash she’d found in his wallet, too. Sometimes she got lucky. Too bad she hadn’t had better luck with the girl.
If Erin Tyler had ventured out here alone today, arranging an “accident” for her would have been easy. Unfortunately, she’d brought along that dangerous-looking man. But never mind. With patience and careful planning, sooner or later, another chance would come.
As the pair mounted up and rode away, Marie settled back into the shade to think. Her fingertip stroked the ugly scar on the left side of her face. Running from her temple to the corner of her mouth, it was a lasting souvenir from the abusive husband she’d left years ago, back in Oklahoma. If she could kill the girl and sell Stella’s drug stash, she should be able to pay for plastic surgery in Mexico. That would be a dream come true.
But to do this right, she would need to know more about Erin Tyler—where she liked to go, what vehicle she drove, where and when she was most likely to be alone. Once she knew those things, she could make a plan and set her trap.
Stella would have her revenge, and Marie would be free.
CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER A TWENTY-MINUTE RIDE, LUKE AND ERIN CAME WITHIN SIGHT of the ranch yard. Even in the blazing heat, Luke could see that Erin was shivering beneath her perspiration-soaked shirt. Someone was stalking the ranch—a sinister stranger who had no good reason to be here. And she was too proud to admit that she was scared.
“You should tell your father about this,” Luke said.
“Not yet.” Luke could sense her resistance as she answered. “It would just add to the strain he’s under.”
“And Sky? Maybe he could help.”
“Sky works for my dad. He’d feel obligated to tell him. For now I can handle this by myself. Nobody else knows about it but you—and you promised not to tell, right?”
“Right.” Luke was beginning to regret that promise, but if nothing else, he was a man of his word.
“At least I’ve got a photo of the boot print on my phone,” she said. “I’ll take it to the sheriff’s office tomorrow. When I tell them about the missing gun, they’ll have to listen to me. I’ll even take that box of his personal effects, in case the sheriff needs to dust them for prints.”
She eyed him, cocking her head. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you think I’ve been watching too many crime shows on TV?”
“No. But I think you’re being foolish. This isn’t a game, Erin. We know somebody’s out there. If that person killed your friend, you could be in danger, too, especially if you get too close. Don’t do this alone. Bring in the troops—that includes Sky and your father. The whole ranch needs to be on alert.”
“Not until I’ve talked to the sheriff. Otherwise, who’s going to believe me?”
“I believe you.” He hesitated, deciding to be honest. “At least I believe what we saw.”
“See?” Her chin came up in a defiant thrust. “Even you have your doubts. You think I’m just a silly girl, overreacting from grief. Fine. Think what you want to.”
She nudged her palomino to a gallop that carried her well ahead of him, toward the barns. Luke muttered a curse. The stallion would be all right. The barns weren’t far, and they’d both been careful not to exert the horses in the heat. But Erin’s headstrong recklessness made him want to grip her shoulders and shake some sense into her.
Not a wise train of thought—especially since what he really wanted had nothing to do with shaking her.
Back off. She’s not your problem. Let her go her own way. Until last night he could have done just that. But now he was concerned. Whether he liked it or not, he cared what happened to her—cared deeply. But anything beyond caring would have to stop right now. He was already treading a thin line. To step over it would mean trouble, not only for him but for Erin.
* * *
Erin slowed the stallion to a walk as they entered the ranch yard. Tearing toward the barn as if in a panic could draw unwanted attention and raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
At least Luke hadn’t come after her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed tha
t he’d stayed back and was barely in sight. Maybe he was thinking of her reputation and his own. It was just as well that they hadn’t ridden in together. Even that might have been enough to cause some damaging talk.
She’d be smart to stay away from Luke, she told herself as she rode into the shadow of the stallion barn. The man was a stickler for propriety. But what she found herself wanting from him was anything but proper. She remembered how, after they’d left the wash and returned to mount their horses, pain had stabbed her swollen ankle when she’d tried to put her weight in the stirrup. Without a word, he’d clasped her waist with his big, hard hands, hoisting her high enough to grab the saddle horn and swing her right leg over the cantle.
The pressure of his hands and the brief contact with his body, her breasts skimming his face as he lifted her, had sent a shock of sheer pleasure rocketing through her senses. The feeling had been so intense that she’d swallowed a gasp. Never in her life had she felt anything like it—certainly not with Kyle, not even when he kissed her.
But kissing Kyle was safe. It came packaged with the idea that this was how things would be, maybe for the rest of their lives. Being with Luke held the lure of the forbidden, heightened by a spark of danger.
Even touching him made her blood race.
What would kissing him be like?
But that was only a fantasy. She was a sensible young woman, raised to make the right choices. And Luke was older, a man of experience. He probably saw her as a willful child who’d gone riding off in a huff when he hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. What she was imagining was out of the question.
She had to stop thinking about it.
* * *
Luke held the bay stallion to a walk, cutting around the periphery of the yard to enter from the back road to the syndicate property. By the time he arrived at the barn, Erin had unsaddled Tesoro and was in his stall, rubbing him down. Leaving her alone for now, he unsaddled the bay stallion, gave him a quick rubdown, checked his food and water, and put him away. When he came out of the stall, Erin was there, her damp hair clinging around her face where her hatband had covered it. Her blazing blue eyes and the set of her jaw told him she still had a score to settle.