Colton 911--Caught in the Crossfire

by Linda O. Johnston

  She’d stopped walking again at his outburst, which was a good thing. She seemed to study his face, as if hoping the truth was there.

  And then she nodded. “I trust you, Casey,” she finally said. As if to punctuate and underscore her words, she stood on her toes, pulled down his neck and gave him a big, hot kiss right on the mouth.

  Which made him want to swear he’d do anything she wanted.

  “Good” was his somewhat strangled response. “Now, let’s go.”

  * * *

  She needed to trust Casey, Melody thought. And she did. He seemed sure of himself, at least in some ways. He might not have all the answers yet, but he seemed certain they’d—he’d—figure out a way to end this appropriately: cattle saved, rustlers arrested.

  But...well, he kept going, and so did she. He led her not to the edge of the hill, but into the bushes off to the side where a path had been cleared. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt as he moved small branches out of her way.

  “Hey, you know, if nothing else maybe we can locate some interesting birds or other animals here in the forest,” he said, clearly joking. “And then you can herd them, keep them together right around here while I go ahead and grab the bad guys. Okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” she said, enjoying the slight respite. “Maybe some more kestrels, or spotted owls, if you like birds, but I doubt I’ll be able to manage their flocks. Maybe rabbits or rats, though. They might have some interest if I find food for them.”

  But then she turned back to flash a grin at him and gesture for him to follow—as if he wouldn’t. It was her own stab at a joke, sort of. This might be a fun exchange, but she was worried.

  What was he really thinking? Was he hoping she’d stay out of his way while he performed his job? Was he thinking about how to protect her?

  “Right,” he said, catching up with her. “You can go look for some rabbit or rat food, and—”

  Stopping again, she glared at him. “Cut it out,” she said, nearly exploding. “I know what you’re doing. And I appreciate it, if I’m right—that you want to protect me while you go finish this. But I’m doing my job, too. You can go get those evil rustlers, and I’ll be delighted when you do. But I’ll be right with you, taking care of the cattle. Got it?”

  “Yeah,” he said, his deep, throaty voice a grumble as he glared at her. “But—”

  “No buts. Let’s do it.” Yet again, she hurried ahead of him.

  When they’d gone maybe a quarter of a mile farther, Melody noticed that the path they were on had another section, one that didn’t parallel that hilltop but connected with their path perpendicularly. Since she was the one ahead at the moment, without even asking his opinion, she headed that way. Plenty of plants appeared at the edges—places they could hide as they looked down.

  She felt Casey’s hand grasp her shoulder. “Hey, wait a minute. Good idea to go that way, but bad idea to do it like this.”

  “So tell me how.”

  “I’ll show you,” he said. “And, yes, you can join me, as long as you’re careful and follow my instructions. Got it?”

  They’d stopped walking at the edge of that side portion of the path, and Casey looked down at her sternly. In his face, Melody believed she saw that he was not only taking charge, but there was also concern.

  “Got it,” she said and grabbed his hand. She gazed up earnestly into his handsome but clearly worried face. Okay. Much as she hated to keep admitting it to herself, he was in charge. She knew it and appreciated what appeared to be his caring nature.

  She’d go along with his instructions as long as he didn’t shut her out, tie her to a tree like the horses or whatever to end her participation.

  His hand felt warm and strong in hers. His expression softened somewhat, and she had to prevent herself from reaching up to bring his head down for another kiss.

  “Fine, then,” he said. “Here’s what I’m planning. For both of us.”

  * * *

  He expected some argument when he told her he would do it all from now on.

  “I’ll head toward the end of this part of the path,” he said, “then hide and look down at the area below, and, if possible, make my way down this part of the hillside, preferably totally surrounded by brush so I can’t be seen.” When Melody nodded, he continued, “You’ll stay near the top and watch and, if necessary, you can call out the troops.”

  Casey informed her he would even exchange phones with her so all she’d need to do would be to push a button to call the sheriff’s department, request backup and explain why. He knew the number so, if necessary, he could call them, too, on her phone.

  Simple enough.

  And he was pleased that, though she stared hard at his face in the shadows as he told her his plan, she didn’t argue, despite her increasingly angry frown. Would she yell at him when he finished?

  Nothing. Silence when he stopped talking. He sighed inside in relief. He’d go ahead. She’d stay safe. End of story, assuming he did apprehend the rustlers and was able to do that before they could injure any more of the cattle.

  “Great,” he said after a few moments of silence. “So give me your phone, and here’s mine.” He pulled it from his pocket, allowing himself to once more feel the hardness of the gun stuck into the back of his belt as further reassurance all would be well.

  “That sounds reasonable,” she said as she exchanged her phone for his, though she checked the GPS first and showed him that the group of red dots below them was not moving. “Or at least this part of it sounds reasonable.”

  Uh-oh. “What do you mean?”

  Surprise, surprise. She didn’t like being left behind, even when he again attempted to make it appear that what he was doing was best for the cattle, not just her safety. But he did remind her about what had happened to Pierce, and that the rustlers clearly would have no compunction about killing Casey and her, too. Coming after them both, if they knew there were two of them.

  Beyond saying she would do what seemed right, she didn’t argue with him. She just glared into his eyes, her expressive, deep brown eyes hardening beneath her long, dark lashes. Her gaze was much icier than he believed he’d ever seen it before.

  Which hurt, damn it, even though he shouldn’t care what she thought.

  He did.

  So he pulled her into his arms and held her close. “It’ll work out fine this way,” he promised her, hoping it wasn’t a lie. “You’ll see. And you can call my department if there’s any sign of trouble. You’ll be in charge.”

  “Right,” she said, speaking against his chest. And then she moved back just a little.

  Just enough to pull down his head to hers, where they engaged in what was probably the hottest, most emotional kiss they’d shared. Her use of her tongue reminded him of their night of sex, and her holding him tightly against her seemed a hug of utmost caring. And desire.

  Which made his body react. Made him want more. A lot more.

  That wouldn’t happen, though. Not now, and not later when this was all over. Successfully.

  And when the kiss was ended, she pulled back again beneath the tall bushes where they stood and looked at him, those gorgeous eyes of hers moist but intense.

  “Now go for it,” she said. “Be careful, okay? I’ll be watching. If I see anything that looks like trouble, I’ll make that call. And if you want me to call, just put your hand up and wave as if you’re waving to the cows. That’ll be our signal, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said, grabbing her for another kiss before heading forward.

  Sure enough, she stayed behind him.

  He kneeled on the ground as he reached the area where this part of the hill finally sloped downward. He looked where the cattle were.

  He could make out three people there at the edge of the herd, though they were far enough away he couldn’t tell much about them.

 
There was one of him. And he had one gun.

  Hell. He was glad he had Melody as backup and they had a plan for him signaling her.

  It was time for him to ease his way through the bushes and head down the hill.

  Chapter 17

  Melody sat on the hard, leaf-covered ground beneath a healthy-looking bush that gave her plenty of cover. But back here, within the shrubbery, and still a distance from the end of the path that led down the hill, she hardly needed any cover.

  She needed finality. A successful close to their stakeout.

  Victory by Casey in what he had just set out to do. Safely. With neither of them harmed, certainly not like poor Pierce. And hopefully they would learn why the murderers killed Pierce.

  She hadn’t needed Casey’s reminder about Pierce. She wondered yet again if her fellow ranch hand had worked with the rustlers, which she didn’t want to believe, or, more likely, attempted unsuccessfully to face them down.

  And as Casey had mentioned, she couldn’t help feeling worried that he, or even she, could be hurt, or worse, too.

  She had fought any kind of emotion deep inside her—and not so deep—as he had set off away from her, partly bent over, through the underbrush. She’d watched him head away on the bush-shrouded path ahead of her, finding herself staring at his wide-shouldered back in the dark blue shirt, his jeans-covered butt and legs, and his boot-clad feet until he disappeared. She forced herself to stay put. Not follow.

  But did she feel comfortable he’d handle it completely successfully on his own? Of course, she hoped so—but she wasn’t going to make the assumption he would and could.

  And so she kept his phone clutched in her hand as she made herself remain seated, wanting to count the seconds since he’d left her there. She intended to head after him, no matter what he’d told her, once she’d reached a minute. At the most, two.

  But to be as safe as possible that she wouldn’t catch up with him, she waited maybe five. Even so, she worried that he’d hear her. Sense her presence some other way.

  They didn’t need to take the time to argue now. And arguing would definitely make noise, perhaps even enough to let their quarry know they were on their way.

  Why follow him? Because she intended to protect him, at least somewhat. She would stay way back, just watch, stay safe herself. And call for help immediately if he needed it. Soon, though, it was time for her to get on the move. She stayed alert, listening and watching to the extent she could under this cover of leaves and undergrowth as she moved quickly forward.

  Where was Casey now? Had he hurried his way to the bottom of this part of the hill, or had he stopped to try to observe where the people below were and the best way he could approach them without being noticed, until he was close and aimed his gun at them to bring them down?

  Or was there something else a skilled deputy like him would do, some other way to capture the criminals with as little risk to himself as possible?

  Heck, she thought as she continued to head in the direction he’d gone. If his main goal was to minimize risk to himself, he’d have had her go with him, from the first, to help. Though she wasn’t armed, she could make that call to his real backup immediately when he said to.

  But he’d still wanted to protect her. Sweet, but impractical. And more dangerous to him. After all, there were also other ways besides aiming a gun that she might have been able to get the bad guys under control.

  That thought made her sweep her gaze around for any sign of a nice, large branch she could use as a weapon if she needed to.

  Well, she saw nothing in this confined area, and even if there was something she’d hardly be able to drag a big, heavy branch with her. But she’d keep watching for something compact and potentially usable as she continued forward.

  Rationally, though, she realized she would be doing this without a weapon.

  At least she didn’t see any of the rodents she’d teased Casey about before. Insects, though, and worms...but she worked outdoors. She might not love them but she was used to them.

  She had recognized that this part of the downward-sloping hillside was long, but she hadn’t considered the amount of time it might take for her to reach the bottom, particularly since, though she attempted to be fast, she tried to move as little visible plant life and make as little noise as she could.

  Was Casey going even more quickly than she was? She hoped not. She didn’t want to catch up with him, but she wanted to be there for him if he needed any assistance, as soon as she could, once he reached the base of the hill.

  Casey. They were partners in this challenging enterprise. They had different skills that should meld well together for finally dealing with the killers and retrieving the stolen cattle. Or so Melody believed, although Casey and she hadn’t really discussed it. But she trusted that wonderful deputy sheriff.

  And they’d been working on at least finding the cattle for days. Nights.

  Night. No more nights together with Casey now. She ought to be glad. Oh, she’d enjoyed their time together—their amazing encounter last night. But there were many reasons for their closeness then—partly to distract and support her after the murder of her coworker.

  But she didn’t want to think about Pierce now. She wanted to think about Casey.

  It had been fun. It had been memorable.

  And it had been a one-time wonder.

  Still, maybe they’d remain friends and potential colleagues in other ways. She hated the idea of never seeing Casey again after what they’d been through...and what they were likely to go through soon.

  She was thinking too much again. She realized it. And yet how could she keep her mind primarily on sneaking down the hill and remaining off Casey’s radar and certainly that of the horrible rustlers?

  For the next few minutes, she tried to think of something besides Casey. As a ranch hand, she was outside a lot, anyway. Not creeping down hillsides decked with foliage, but out there wrangling cattle.

  She hoped she would be doing that again soon. Very soon. With the remaining eleven of the stolen cattle.

  Hey. What was that? She stopped moving and just remained where she was, listening.

  Cattle, somewhere far ahead of her. Their sweet, soft lowing. She had to be getting close, and fortunately they didn’t sound in distress.

  But with them, Melody heard voices, too. Must be the thieves. Assuming she heard what she believed she did. It all seemed so hushed at this distance.

  Was one of the voices Casey’s? Was he with the rustlers now? Had he already arrested them, gotten possession back of the missing cows?

  Or...was it something else? Someone else? Who was talking?

  Was Casey just listening, too?

  Or was he participating?

  She just stayed still...for now. Trying to decide what to do.

  When to move forward.

  She couldn’t see Casey yet. Wouldn’t be able to view his hand signal, even if he gave it.

  Not sure where he was, she figured she might not have been able to see a signal from him even if she’d listened and remained at the top of the hill.

  Well, she was going to help him, like it or not. At least she would be there to call in his real backup if he got into trouble.

  * * *

  Their backs were toward him—all three of them. They all wore jeans and thick, full hoodies, as well as tennis shoes, and somehow they appeared nearly the same height that way, though maybe that was because where they stood was somewhat rough.

  They were still too far away for him to hear what they were saying, even though it was loud enough that Casey knew they were having a conversation. About the lowing cattle, whose moos helped to obliterate the people’s words, that they stood near?

  He gathered that was the case, since the few words he made out included “forward” and “keep going.”

  He had ne
arly reached the end of the foliage-strewn path and was still hidden within the underbrush, as he intended. Of course, since the perpetrators were looking in the other direction, they might not have seen him, anyway, or any movement he had caused in the foliage.

  Damn, but this was frustrating. He wanted to get near enough to at least hear what they were saying, figure out what their plan was, if any.

  And then turn his own rough outline of a plan into reality.

  Were they all armed? One had shot Pierce. He couldn’t assume the others weren’t carrying, too. Therefore, what he really would like to do—just dash out there, gun drawn—wasn’t a great idea.

  Besides, he didn’t really want to shoot them, even if they all charged him. He wanted to bring them in, if possible—healthy and whole and able to stand trial. And if they ran away, he definitely didn’t want to shoot them in their backs, but how would he stop them? Plus they might all go in different directions, so he would only be able to follow one.

  The worst scenario, and perhaps the most likely, was that they’d all go hide among the cattle, in which case there was no way Casey could fire his gun at all.

  At least he’d found them, and they remained in one spot for now. This was probably the time to pull Melody’s phone from his pocket and call in his backup, though talking here, even softly over the phone, might give him away. He could, instead, reach up and send the signal he and Melody had planned to her. But would she, at the top of the hill, be able to see him?

  Would the rustlers see him instead?

  What had he been expecting? Something like this, of course. And what was he going to do about it?

  Confront them soon. He had to.

  First, though, he’d—

  He heard some rustling of the undergrowth behind him and pivoted abruptly. Was there a fourth one who—?