She sat back down. Okay … this might not be going where she feared.
At her expression, he added, “I was, of course, advised of this morning’s event.” The pompous tone was back in his voice. “And I’m alarmed by the risk to all of the reenactors but – selfish of me, I suppose – I’m most concerned about the risk to my wife. Particularly, as it appears that its women who are being targeted. I would prefer Audra not take part in the event.”
Kylah blinked. What was she supposed to say to that? She certainly wasn’t going to tell him she knew from her conversation with Rita that he and Audra had argued about this at least once already and in public.
“And, regrettable as it is, you, of course, heard her response to my worry. She intends to go through with her participation. Worse, she has some nonsensical notion of expanding her role, participating in another scene or two she finds of particular historical interest. It would make her visible and exposed for additional periods of time.”
“I’m sure that’s difficult for you to contemplate,” Kylah offered.
“You have no idea. Worse,” he hesitated, “she’s pregnant. We’ve tried so long and had given up. I’m not concerned for her alone now. I’m concerned for our child.” He pressed his lips together, looking exhausted. “I doubt we’d get a second chance.”
Crap, she thought. “I’m sorry. Truly.” It was all she could think to say.
“I thought, perhaps, you’d talk with her. Share how it felt to know you’d come so close to death or being maimed.”
Part of her thought what a jerk. Another part of her understood his desperate request. “Dean Edmunds, I’ll make a deal with you. If you get her to ask me how I felt about being shot at and having a booby-trap set for my horse, I’ll tell her how it made me feel. But I’m going to be honest with her so I need to be honest with you. I’m way more pissed off than I am scared off.”
Looking startled, Grant leaned back in the chair that looked too flimsy for his size. “Well, I do understand you’re a tough woman. You’d have to be in the business you’re in. Show business of a sort, I suppose one could say. And traveling alone with your animals and … hired help.”
And with that, he was back to being a full-blown asshole who irritated her instead of a concerned husband with whom she could sympathize. She managed not to roll her eyes.
Kylah got to her feet. “Yes,” she agreed. “I am a tough woman. And I don’t quit. You should be glad for that.”
There was, Kylah thought, as she walked out, some petty measure of satisfaction in knowing she’d had the last word. That satisfaction, as well as the reminder of her own strength, had her feeling far less pensive as she and the black cat strolled back to tell Jake she was heading out for the evening.
* * *
What a strange bird. Well, to be fair, many humans are but the good dean is more so than most. I do understand his concern, however. It’s instinctual in most males to want to protect their mates and their offspring. I would be beside myself if I had a kit facing danger. Thank goodness, there’s no risk of finding myself in that position. Like Sherlock, I’ve disciplined myself to forego entanglements that would distract me from my work. And I’ve certainly got enough on my hands, what with bringing murderers to justice and protecting my temporary humans.
I have concerns of my own. The most critical is that Kylah has now been a target twice. Like Wolf, I don’t believe it to be coincidental. Yes, it’s possible the perpetrator fired the revolver without knowing it was Kylah but I consider it unlikely. This leaves me with two questions. First, was the failed revolver shot aimed at a uniform, a woman in uniform, or Kylah? Regardless of that answer, I can only believe the trip-rope was put into place to harm or even kill Kylah alone. Which brings me to my second question. Was the second incident, the trip-rope, out of frustration because the revolver shot missed or because Kylah was the target all along and the perpetrator wants to finish the job?
I’m also having difficulty meshing the skill of Maisy McGuire’s murderer with the rather clumsy attempts toward Kylah. It is difficult to believe two individuals are at work but harder to believe that the expertise which felled Ms. McGuire has turned into something akin to a Keystone Cop comedy in the attempts against Kylah. Although I find little to amuse me when it comes to Kylah’s security.
I feel I must share my concerns with Wolf man-to-man … er … cat-to-man. Regrettably, feline to human communication is always a challenge.
Chapter Fifteen
Trying to keep her mind focused on a shower and food, in that order, Kylah checked her phone as soon as the truck door closed behind her and the black cat. There were two missed calls, one from her mother, the other number she didn’t recognize. She hit play on voicemail. “Ms. West, Rita Stockton here. Please forgive me. I convinced Wolf to share your phone number. I’d like to talk with you at your earliest convenience.”
A groan escaped her. Wolf’s ex-wife was not necessarily someone she wanted to chat with. Regardless, she was one of the organizers. Even more, if she understood correctly, Rita Stockton was the energy behind the reenactment. She hit redial to return the call.
Rita answered at once and wasted no time asking to meet with her. They agreed upon a restaurant in town in 30 minutes. Kylah ended the call and looked down at her dusty jeans and boots and shared a glance with Trouble. “What the hell,” she said. If Wolf’s ex wanted to see her spruced up, she should’ve given her more time.
* * *
Kylah pulled into a parking space and killed the engine before glancing over at Trouble. “Are you going to stay in the truck, come in, or scout out the surroundings?” For answer, the cat curled up in the passenger seat. Good enough, she thought. She lowered the windows part way. As cool as it was with the sun sinking on the horizon, she wouldn’t risk the truck heating up in the last moments of daylight. Not with Trouble inside. No chance of rain and no chance of a thief taking advantage and stealing her truck. She’d hate to be the person who tried that with Trouble on board.
Before stepping out of the truck, she glanced at her phone. She’d heard two messages come in while she was driving. One from Wolf, suggesting he grill steaks for the two of them that evening. She liked the idea but wasn’t sure she liked that she liked it and that didn’t make sense even to her. About ten minutes after Wolf’s message was one from Rita to let her know she’d decided to ask Wolf to join them and she hoped Kylah didn’t mind, ending, ‘Hopefully he hasn’t already screwed up your friendship’.
Kylah thought about that a long moment. Before she stopped herself, she answered Rita with, ‘Is that what happened with your marriage?’ Second thoughts be damned, Rita was the one who had opened that door.
Rita’s answer pinged back immediately. ‘Mercy, no. I did that with no help at all from Wolf, but I don’t know what bad habits he’s learned in the ten years since.’
“Ten years,” she said out loud. Trouble pricked his ears and met her stare. “That’s a long time to be divorced.” Or was it?
Sighing, she got out of the truck and went inside. The restaurant appeared to be a bit above average, both outside and in. She gave a second thought to her appearance but there was nothing to be done about it now. A hostess escorted Kylah to the back of the restaurant where Rita sat alone in a booth. Kylah slipped in opposite her, keeping to the middle of the seat. She would rather Rita had chosen a table. She didn’t want to wonder if Wolf would choose to slide in beside her or his ex, didn’t want to think about what either choice might imply.
The other woman looked stylish in a cream-colored dress. “Thank you for coming on such short notice. Wolf should be here soon.”
Kylah glanced up as a waiter approached.
When she ordered water with lemon, Rita asked, “Not a fan of wine?”
“Sometimes.” She kept her answer noncommittal. She wanted a clear head until she knew what this meeting was about. Initially, she’d thought she might be going to receive a warning to stay away from Wolf, that Rita stil
l called dibs on her ex-husband. But she couldn’t see the sophisticated woman delivering that message in front of said ex. And learning they’d divorced so many years ago? Surely not.
Kylah saw Wolf before Rita did, perhaps because she’d been watching for him and Rita hadn’t. He stood at the hostess station as he scanned the room. As soon as he caught sight of Kylah, he moved without hesitation through the scattering of tables to her side of the booth.
“Hi,” he said, sliding in beside her without asking. She moved to make room for him as he greeted Rita. The intentional brush of his thigh against her jeans was distracting but she held her ground. Even when he gave her a faint grin.
Rita had been busy signaling the waiter back to their table. Wolf ordered a Malbec and that surprised Kylah. She’d seen him drink beer but not wine.
When the waiter left, Rita looked across at them. “I’ll dive right in, shall I? Grant called me earlier.” She focused on Kylah. “He said you were targeted again. I’m sorry. Again.”
Kylah sighed. “It isn’t anything for you, or Dean Edmunds, to apologize for.”
“He did talk with you then?”
“Briefly.” The Edmunds’ small disagreement was no one’s business but theirs, especially in light of the principal reason for Grant’s concern. Rita may or may not know about Audra’s pregnancy. If not, she wouldn’t hear it from Kylah.
“He’s concerned for the danger you were in, even more so considering how upset he found you afterward.”
Kylah could feel Wolf’s gaze on her. She felt a spurt of anger at Grant’s misrepresenting her. “Actually, Rita, what I told Dean Edmunds is that I’m more pissed than scared. If that makes me seem upset, then, yes, I suppose I am.”
Rita gave the faintest of chuckles. Understated reactions seemed her forte.
“What was the point of Grant’s call, Rita?” Wolf was blunt. “To let you know what had happened?”
Rita shifted her attention to Wolf at his question. “He’s less and less comfortable moving ahead with the reenactment. He suggested we postpone the entire event, perhaps to the fall, as midsummer is so hot and humid.”
“What are your thoughts? Do you agree?”
“At this point, I’m not certain. I spoke with the historical society. That entire group is adamantly opposed to any shift in time. The fear is that we’ll not only lose the momentum we have to this point – and it’s been considerable – we may never regain it, even in subsequent years.”
Wolf grunted. “And if someone else is murdered?”
Rita looked rueful. “Well, there is that possibility. And, human nature being what it is, that could push the outcome either way. Future participants and audiences will avoid us like the plague or they’ll come in droves out of morbid curiosity.”
“You’re not going to cancel, are you?” Despite wording it as a question, Wolf sounded certain of her decision.
“I’m not, no. I’ll leave that decision up to the historical society. It’s a great boon to our campus and I think we were right to take on the bulk of the work, but it’s their baby when all is said and done.” Rita looked from Wolf to Kylah. “I can and will however, return your contract to you, if you like. No hard feelings. No questions.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Kylah kept her tone quiet but very, very firm.
Rita nodded. “Good for you.”
Wolf said nothing. Kylah had no doubt she’d find out later how he felt about her decision. But, in the final analysis, it didn’t matter what either of them, what any of them thought. As she’d told Grant Edmunds, she didn’t quit. If she were inclined, she would’ve laid down and died five long years ago. Now, she was coming back to life and she’d be damned if she’d let anyone take that from her.
When the waiter returned, Rita paid their tab over Wolf’s protests and stood. “I’m late for a meeting but I appreciate that you both took the time to talk with me. I hope there won’t be any more incidents and all of this will go away.”
“Optimistic, isn’t she?” Kylah murmured as the other woman walked away on stilettos with more grace than Kylah had ever managed in boots.
“Nope. She’s hardheaded.”
Kylah smiled and cut him a sideways glance but decided silence was her best response.
Silence didn’t save her as he added, “You should recognize that trait.” He didn’t wait for a response. “Did you see my message earlier?”
“Hmmm … I think I saw something about some guy grilling me a steak.”
When Wolf got to his feet, she slid to the edge of the padded bench and took the hand he held out to her. He pulled her into his arms and it felt good. It felt right. Maybe it wasn’t time to stop thinking but maybe it was time to stop overthinking. They dropped her truck off at the hotel where she and Trouble climbed in with him.
When she woke in his bed the next morning, it still felt good. And it still felt right.
Chapter Sixteen
As appreciative as I am of the sunshine, the warmth is unseasonable. I note actors or reenactors or whatever they choose to call themselves tugging at their collars, many of which appear to be of wool, heaven help them. Our Kylah, however, is as cool as the proverbial cucumber. Not that I would know. I’ve sniffed one or two but neither touched nor tasted. The scent is not unpleasant but nothing to savor. I decline to taste that which does not please all three senses which are involved in culinary delight, sight and scent as well as taste.
I confess I failed to realize Jake would be dressed out, as they call it, as well. He cuts a fine figure in military garments and looks as comfortable as Kylah. With one hand holding the reins of a sturdy looking buckskin, he keeps the other on Kylah’s mount although that fabulous equine is so well-trained it’s obvious he needs no steadying. In the din of confused actors trying to find their places, Andre’s eyes remain steady and his ears are forward with interest but not alarm.
I see traces of his famous father, Flying Jackanapes, the illustrious stallion, once a kill-pen rescue who has since founded a line of talented equine. They’re all young yet but with a remarkable aptitude and most will remain within Avery Wilson Hanna’s equestrian therapy program at Summer Valley Ranch. The number of damaged humans she has helped warms my heart. But Avery is wise to accept that not every equine is suited to that lifestyle, whether Jack’s offspring or one she accepts from equine rescue teams. Some work out for her program and some do not. Those who do not, retire to luscious grazing unless she can find a happy match for them.
But though my three charges are unperturbed by the tumult around them, something pricks at my subconscious. Pricks hard. I have missed a clue or a warning but the harder my mental effort to grasp it, the more elusive it becomes.
* * *
Wolf walked the route Kylah would take from one end to the other. He stopped to talk with each of the boys who patrolled the course that had been laid out for her. He found them oddly, almost eerily, mature looking in their borrowed uniforms. Some of the uniforms fit better than others but he supposed that would have been normal even during that era. Soldiers weren’t given the luxury of clothing tailored to their measurements.
When he reached Case, the boy’s shoulders straightened. It struck Wolf hard that, at sixteen, Case had already reached the age at which Civil War volunteers were accepted. Some had been even younger. It struck him harder, still, that he was old enough to be Case’s father. He couldn’t fathom sending a son off in uniform. He and Rita had never had a child. They’d tried but it hadn’t happened. All things considered, that was probably for the best.
He hesitated before speaking but the drive to protect Kylah was stronger than the reasons for his hesitation. “Do you know Dusty McDaniel?”
“He’s older than me, right? Lives on The Boundary?
“Right on both counts.”
“I’ve seen him around. We don’t run with the same crowd.” That was all Case said but his expression spoke volumes.
“He’s a cousin.” Wolf paused, the better to
choose his words and his tone, keeping any hint of concern from either. “Let me know if you happen to see him around. I think he might be interested in today’s activities.”
He verified Case’s cell phone was in his pocket, clapped the boy on the shoulder, and moved on.
A few yards further, red-headed Adam tugged self-consciously at the sleeves of his uniform, sleeves too short for arms that matched the rest of his gangly build. He’d grow into his height at some point and be a figure to be reckoned with in a fight. Wolf hoped he’d only ever have to put his strength and height to winning basketball tournaments.
“It’s almost time, Wolf.” The teen visibly struggled to contain his excitement.
Wolf smiled. “Almost.” He wished like hell he could relax and enjoy the day as much as these kids.
“No one’s going to lay a trap for Ms. K.T. Don’t you worry.”
“I’m not worried.” But he lied. There would be another strike. It might not be here and it might not be today but with a woman dead and two attempts on Kylah, this wasn’t going to just go away. No matter how much Rita wished that it would. “You’ve got a good cell phone signal?”
“Yes, sir. I checked it.”
Wolf walked on until he’d talked with each boy, reminding them again they were to do nothing except call if they saw anything worrisome. But he didn’t trust them. Not for a minute. They were teenagers, six feet tall and bullet-proof in their own minds.
He’d been surprised when Les agreed to the boys’ plan but they’d talked at length and agreed it was better to be in the loop and keep tabs on them, than for the teens to decide to do something more drastic without either Wolf’s or Les’ knowledge and oversight. Now he was second-guessing himself. Again.
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