The Ranchers: Destiny Bay Romances Boxed Set vol. 1 (Destiny Bay Romances - The Ranchers)

by Helen Conrad

  “No,” she snapped, plunking down in a chair beside him. “Charlie Cruz got tangled in some barbed wire, cut his leg up real bad. We could have used some paramedics out there, if only you’d been alert enough to call them,”

  “Oh, my God.” Now he was sorry. “Where is the boy? Shall we call them now?”

  She pulled off her hat and threw it down on the Formica tabletop, revealing auburn hair with blond highlights wound tightly in a long braid. “Never mind.” She looked sideways at her father’s anxious face. She didn’t want to let him off the hook too quickly. “Just never mind. It’s too late now.” She almost smiled at his stricken expression. “The truth is, Norma Mae happened by in her new van and we loaded him in. She’s taking him over to Lincoln Memorial right now. I suppose they’ll sew him up.”

  “Oh, good.” Harley’s sigh was halfway between contentment and relief. His eyes strayed back to the game show.

  Jessie sat up straight, demanding attention. “But darn it all, Harley, why can’t you keep the walkie-talkie in mind? Last time I was trying to warn you that Aunt Jill was on her way so you could get out of here and hide somewhere, but you didn’t pay any attention then, either, and look what happened. She stayed a week.”

  The crunch of tires on gravel brought both of their heads around.

  “Sheriff Jensen,” Jessie said, though they could both see who it was. “Wonder what he wants?”

  “My last piece of cherry pie, I reckon. That’s what he usually wants. And that’s what he usually gets.”

  “Oh, no, he doesn’t,” she said, jumping up and heading for the kitchen. “Not this time. Where is it? I’ve had my mind on that pie since breakfast.” She rummaged in the bread cabinet and came up with the generous slice that was all that was left of the plump pie she’d seen arrive earlier that day. Grabbing a fork from the silverware drawer, she took a bite, savoring the tartness. Out in the dining room, she heard her father greeting the sheriff.

  “How are you doing, Harley?” the sheriff said. “I haven’t got time to stop and chat today. Got me this picture came in over the wire service. Some embezzler. Seems he was spotted in Bisbee earlier today. He might just come on through here. Mind if I put the picture up on your bulletin board? You all get a lot of through traffic. Someone might spot this guy.”

  “Go right ahead, sheriff. Who’s the fugitive?”

  “Michael Drayton’s the name. Took a mess of diamonds from his rich girlfriend and took a mess of money from her daddy’s company. Sky Matthews. You remember him? Old war hero from back in the day. Started Matthews Aviation, made his millions.” The sheriff chuckled. “Say, they’ve got a reward out for this guy. Maybe you can make yourself a few bucks. You all will keep your eyes open, won’t you?”

  Jessie forked up the last bite of cherry pie while her father showed the sheriff to the door. Millions. Her lids dropped and she dreamed for a moment. What even a fraction of that amount could do for the ranch and café.

  Her father came back in and she got up, slipping her dish into the sink but neglecting to wash it. “Guess I’ll get back to work,” she said, reaching for her hat. “Still got almost an hour before sundown.”

  Harley was staring at the picture the sheriff had pinned to the wall. “Come here,” he said softly.

  “Hmm?”

  “Come take a look at this. What do you think?”

  Jessie walked over and glanced at the picture. Eyes widening, she looked again. The dark hair with the streak of silver. The lean, hard face. “It’s him!” she exclaimed. “That guy who was here earlier. My God, catch the sheriff!”

  It was too late. Sheriff Jensen was just disappearing in a cloud of dust. Jessie and Harley looked at each other, then back at the picture.

  ‘”Fifty thousand dollars reward for information leading to the apprehension and conviction...?’” she read out loud. She turned to her father, excitement surging in her. “We could get that money,” she cried.

  Harley was doubtful. He rubbed his high forehead with the palm of his hand. “How do you figure that?” he asked. “It’s been a couple of hours since he was in here. He’s halfway to Tucson by now.”

  “But that’s just it! We know he’s halfway to Tucson. No one else knows that. When we tell the sheriff—“ Her mouth dropped open. “No, wait! He wasn’t going to Tucson tonight. Remember? You told him to go ahead and camp on our land.”

  Now Harley was beginning to believe in the dream, as well. “You’re right. I sure did. I told him about Silver Creek Canyon.”

  She nodded, eyes shining. “Oh, Daddy, this is it. I can feel it. We’re going to get that reward money.” She hugged him tightly. “And we’ll share it, half and half. You’ll be able to get new signs painted, buy a new furnace, and I—“

  “Wait a minute, wait a minute.” He carefully disentangled himself from her excited embrace. “We don’t have that money yet. And what if he didn’t camp where I told him to? What if he turned around and headed for Mexico?”

  “You’re right.” Jessie bit her lip, thinking hard. “Okay, here’s what we do. You stay here and try to get in touch with Sheriff Jensen. I’ll take Smoke and ride out to the canyon and see if he’s there.”

  Harley looked at his daughter as though she’d grown horns before his eyes. “Are you crazy? I won’t have you out there with some criminal.”

  “Oh, Harley, be serious. I’m not going to ride right into his camp and ask him if he’s the guy who stole the diamonds.” It had been a long time since Jessie had listened to much her father said. She loved him dearly, but for about half her life, ever since she turned thirteen, she’d been the one whose quick thinking and ideas had propelled their little family. And her father’s fears weren’t about to stop her now.

  She pulled open a drawer and rummaged until she came up with a pair of binoculars. “I’ll lay low and watch him through these. That way I can keep track of him in case it takes a while to get through to the sheriff. Meanwhile...” She took the walkie-talkie unit off the shelf and thrust it at her father. “Meanwhile we’ll keep in touch with this. If you think you can keep the TV off long enough.”

  Harley didn’t rise to the bait. “You know, that just might work.” He looked at his daughter wonderingly. She always did manage to surprise him.

  “Sure it’ll work.” She grinned at him. “That way we’ll keep tabs on him and get the credit when he gets arrested.” She jammed her hat on her head and turned toward the door. “You get busy on the phone. It ought to take me about fifteen minutes to ride out there. I’ll call in as soon as I spot him.”

  Harley went to the door and watched her swing up on to the large gray gelding. “Good luck, honey,” he called after her as she urged Smoke into a gallop. She waved and gave a small rebel yell. Harley laughed, shaking his head. Where had that rascal come from, anyway? When she’d been born, he’d expected a peaches-and-cream sort of girl, someone who wore lace and sat on velvet pillows with ribbons in her hair. Instead he got Jessie, wild as any boy in her time, and now in her mid twenties, as hard a ranch worker as any man.

  “Good luck, honey,” he said again, though she was halfway up the hill and nearly hidden by a small stand of cottonwoods. She was the dearest thing he had left. A tremor shook him, a premonition of danger and loss. He frowned, then shook it off, but he watched Jessie until she disappeared over the hill before he turned back into the café and went to the telephone.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Gotcha!”

  Jessie could almost taste that reward money.

  She’d left Smoke down the hill and had worked her way to the top of the rise on her belly, looking for the fugitive. He was there all right, the low-down thief. Binoculars raised, she confirmed it.

  “Michael Drayton,” she whispered. “Gotcha.”

  He’d pulled his black-and-gold sports car as far off the road as he could to a place where it was hidden by some creosote bushes. A sleeping bag lay spread out on the ground and he’d started a small fire. The man himself wa
s seated on a rock, still dressed in the suit and overcoat, throwing little sticks into the fire the way a kid throws rocks into a pond because there isn’t anything better to do.

  Luckily, the storm had blown over and the temperature was almost tolerable compared to how cold it had been just a couple of hours before. But twilight was falling and the light would be gone very soon. Jessie watched him for a moment, listening to the noise of cars speeding by on the nearby highway. It was the moment between the tag-end of day and the leading edge of nightfall when all the desert world seemed to be waiting, breath held, to see what would happen next. Jessie watched the city man look miserable for a little longer, then she wiggled back down out of sight and pulled out her walkie-talkie.

  “Harley?” she said hoarsely, cupping her hands to hold in the sound of her voice. “Harley? Come in, Harley.”

  “I’m here.” Her father’s voice was oddly reassuring as it crackled through the evening air. Jessie realized suddenly she’d been more tense than she’d let herself know. “You okay?”

  “Of course I’m okay. He’s here, just waiting to be arrested. Where’s the sheriff?”

  “Can’t get hold of him.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t get hold of him?”

  “His line’s still busy. If that dang fool would only get off the phone, I’d have him out there. Say, who do you think he’s talking to all this time?”

  “Liz Clark, most likely.” Jessie sighed impatiently. The sheriff had been head over heels for Liz for years and she held him off like a cat playing with a mouse. She swore she’d been a widow for too long to consider marrying again, so she held out, and the sheriff held on. “Look, Daddy, get the operator to break in. Tell her it’s an emergency.”

  “I already tried that,” he replied in a tone of injured pride. “I don’t think that works anymore. No one will answer at the operator’s number. The whole dang phone company’s been out to lunch since—“

  “Keep trying.” She clicked off and shimmied her way to the top of the rise again. Michael Drayton was pacing around the area, looking caged, and unhappy about it.

  “Watch out, Mister Jewel Thief,” she whispered. “You’ll ruin your Italian leather shoes.”

  That didn’t seem to concern him at the moment. As she watched, he stopped, took careful aim and kicked the side of a boulder.

  Jessie jumped. “Ouch,” she whispered. He probably said something similar, but she couldn’t hear him. He jumped around for a moment, holding his foot, and though she couldn’t make out the words, she knew he was swearing at himself.

  “I could have told you not to do that,” she muttered.

  Then he did a strange thing. Dropping to his knees, he began to roll up the sleeping bag. Jessie sat up, staring through the binoculars, but she didn’t wait long to come to a conclusion. He wasn’t going to stay. The stranger was moving on.

  Hardly caring any longer what noise she made, she scrambled back down out of his view and called her father on the walkie-talkie.

  “Did you get the sheriff yet?” she demanded.

  “No, I—“

  “Listen. He’s packing up! I think he’s moving on!”

  “What?”

  “I’m going down there. One way or another, I’ve got to stop him.”

  “Jessica.” Harley hadn’t used that tone since she was a child. “You’re not going down there. He might have a gun.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t do anything stupid. He won’t know who I am. I don’t think he saw me at the café. I’ll just wander down there. He can’t be so desperate he’d shoot any female who wandered into his camp.”

  “We don’t know that, Jessica. You listen to me, girl—“

  Time was running out and she couldn’t waste it arguing. She clicked off the walkie-talkie and set it behind a rock, then ran down to where Smoke was waiting.

  “You go on home, big boy. You’ve got oats waiting,” she whispered, rubbing his nose before she went to tie the reins to the saddle horn. “Git.” She gave him a swat and he started off complacently, never even looking back. She headed back up the rise. Her heart was thumping in her throat. Everyone had always called her brave. She’d never been so sure she was that. Now she was finally putting it to the test.

  Bravery was an issue Michael didn’t want to think about. Actually, he’d never given it much thought. He was the sort of man who did what had to be done and didn’t waste a lot of time on analysis. He’d taken care of himself in many an awkward situation—including prison. Even though it had been a minimum-security prison, he’d had a few run-ins where he’d held his own. He’d done high-rise construction work as a part-time job during his college years, and he’d put in enough solo flying time to get his private pilot’s license.

  Brave? No. Just unwilling to let danger keep him from doing what he wanted to do.

  But this was different. He glanced around at the gathering shadows and felt a tremor of unease he didn’t like to admit to. This place, this wild and lonely desert, didn’t even give you the odds of an average crapshoot. Someone else was holding all the cards here, and Michael didn’t even get to look at his own hand.

  Running impatient fingers through his thick hair, he let out a sigh of surrender. He had to get some sleep. He’d grabbed two or three hours’ worth at a rest stop along the freeway the previous night, but other than that, he’d been on the run since leaving San Francisco the day before. He’d thought he could camp out, that it would be safer than staying in a motel. Stopping at a sporting goods store, he’d bought his first sleeping bag. Then he’d brought it here to Silver Creek Canyon and spread it out on the rocky ground, knowing right away there was no way he was going to sleep in it.

  The man at the sporting goods shop had shown him a collection of desert insects molded into clear plastic mounds for use as decorative paperweights. Tarantulas. Scorpions. Ants the size of mice. Lizards. They all lived in the desert. Most of them came out at night.

  “You’ve got to watch your sleeping bag,” the man at the store had told him. “Check it every time you get inside. ‘Specially for rattlers. They love to curl up in a warm sleeping bag.”

  And still Michael had thought everything would be all right. Until night fell.

  He kicked out the fire and looked around at the darkness. God only knew what was out there. He didn’t want to find out. Turning on his heel, he walked quickly to his car, opened the door and slid in behind the wheel, enjoying the smell of well-oiled leather. The engine purred and he backed out from behind the ugly bush where he’d parked. Putting her into first, he started for the highway, his tires crunching over the rocky road.

  A sense of relief washed over him as he saw the lights ahead. Danger awaited him there, too, but at least he knew the odds and could work with the territory. He’d find some crummy little motel, he decided. Something on the outskirts of Tucson. He’d made it this far, all the way down to Bisbee, near the Mexican border, where he’d thought he would find Kerry Carter. Now he was traveling north, following a new lead.

  Something tumbled into the beam of his headlights and he jammed on the brakes, twisting the wheel at the same time to avoid hitting it. It was human. He could see that right away.

  He jumped from the car. “You all right?” he called out.

  The figure rose a bit shakily from the ground. At first he thought it was a boy, but then the hat fell off and he saw that the boots, jeans and leather jacket had been camouflaging a woman—not too tall and wiry, but full grown nonetheless. For some reason that annoyed him. You could pick a teenage boy up, dust him off and send him on his way. But some streak of primordial chivalry deep inside told him you couldn’t do that with a woman. You had to make sure she was safe.

  “What the hell are you doing jumping out in front of cars like that?” he demanded, stopping just short of where she stood.

  Jessie tossed her head, leaned down to grab her hat and stuck it back on her head. “I slipped,” she said simply, and it was true. She’d been
in such a hurry to stop him she’d forgotten to take care coming down the slope. Her heart was pounding. It was lucky he hadn’t hit her.

  “What are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere?” The exasperation was plain in his voice.

  “Riding.” Her eyes narrowed and she held his gaze with her own. The headlights from the car lit the scene with an unearthly white light. He looked like the devil himself with his dark face, black overcoat and the streak of silver in his hair. “Just riding,” she repeated, gathering her courage. “What are you doing here on my daddy’s land?”

  “Your daddy’s land?” he echoed, eyeing her sharply. “Does your father run that little greasy spoon down the road?”

  Her mouth formed a stubborn line. She might hate the place herself, but when threatened, her family had always closed ranks. “It’s a restaurant,” she said, enunciating every syllable.

  He almost grinned, enjoying her defensiveness. But he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He had places to go. So he frowned, instead, as though that would help speed her on her way. “If you’re out riding, where’s your horse?”

  Jessie shifted weight from one leg to the other. “He threw me. That’s why I’m walking.”

  Michael shook his head in derision. “Yeah, well, that’s why I always say, never trust an animal that’s bigger than you are.”

  She answered his frown with one of her own. This crook was not only from the city, he was anti-country. She didn’t like his sort. Not at all. But she didn’t have to like him to collect that reward money. If only the sheriff would get a move on. What was she supposed to do now, chitchat with this criminal until he arrived? She’d never been one for small talk in the first place.

  “I’ve got to get going,” he said, almost as though reading her mind. He started toward his car, betraying with a sideways look that he didn’t feel comfortable about leaving her there in the dark. “You going to be all right?”

  She glanced toward the highway. If there was no way to make him stay, she was going to have to go with him. She didn’t like the idea. In fact, her throat went a little dry at the thought. But what else could she do? That damn sheriff..,