“I believe I’ll start right now,” Carter gloated.
“Yes, I did mean the entire barn.” Trevor positioned himself in front of Carter’s bulk. “But you won’t start now. You’ll finish your normal duties. When you’re done, you’ll clean the stalls. And,” he continued with barely restrained anger, “only when Miss Weston is finished with her work for the day and has left the barn.”
“You have no idea what you’ve done.” Ketra stormed down the corridor, the odd little man following like a puppy.
The men filed out of the barn, talking among themselves. Carter mock saluted before following the group. Rocky remained rooted in place, a grimace tightening his jaw.
“What the hell was that all about?” Trevor exploded when he and Rocky were alone.
“The hands have been informed, in no uncertain terms, that they are to stay away from Ketra and her horses.” Rocky took a step closer. “I told you to stay away from her, and I meant it.”
When Trevor tried to protest, Rocky raised a hand. “I heard your reasoning, but there’s something you need to know, boy. She’s going through a real rough patch right now and the best thing you can do is stay away from her. She needs a lot of space to work some things out on her own.”
He motioned out the door where the crew had exited. “As for the rest of those yahoos, you need to keep a firm hand. I don’t cotton to folks fighting on my ranch. Carter Applewhite can be a loose cannon if you don’t keep a tight rein on him. He’s a hell of a roper and he’s great on a drive because he’s durable and tough, but don’t piss him off and don’t,” he laid his hand on Trevor’s arm and leaned in, “let him near Ketra.”
Trevor stared until Rocky released his arm. His revelation about Ketra was unexpected but not shocking. Despite his earlier words of endearment to the petite beauty, he hadn’t indicated a love interest or laid any claim to her whatsoever. Puzzling over their reactions, it finally dawned on him. He’d let his own pent up anger blind him of the obvious.
“It’s not me she’s afraid of. She’s afraid of all men.” Receiving no response, he continued, “Why the hell is she here, surrounded by men and only men, if she’s afraid of them?”
Rocky remained silent. “What’s her story?” Trevor asked with a nod down the aisle where Ketra led a saddled horse to the arena.
“That’s hers to tell or not.” Rocky moved to block Trevor’s view of Ketra’s backside. “I don’t expect you to change your orders, but I do expect you to stay in this barn when Carter’s cleaning the stalls if Ketra’s still out here.”
Trevor pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. Working at the ranch seemed like the perfect solution, a place to lie low and regroup, away from the cameras and the questions, the memories and the pain. So far, all he’d experienced was more confusion and frustration.
“Get your gear. I’ll show you to your house.”
Trevor nodded. Stopping at his truck for his duffle bag and computer, he consoled himself by remembering that his stay here was temporary. Despite the chaos and secrets, this position was secondary to his primary goal, to heed Denny’s suggestion and use this time off to adjust his frame of mind.
He’d have to be careful though. He glanced at the arena where Ketra coaxed the appaloosa around the final barrel in her journey back toward the barn. The last thing he needed was another hornet’s nest exploding all over him. Especially one involving a woman who enchanted him like a siren from the deep blue sea.
Chapter Six
Besides the main house and barn, two smaller houses occupied the property. Trevor had been assigned the cabin between the main house and another cabin, slightly larger than his, both painted the same bright white with black trim. Both with small front porches, similar to the main house. The simple interior consisted of two small bedrooms, a compact kitchen, and combination living/dining room.
After opening a window to dispel the stagnant air, Trevor carried his duffle bag into the larger of the two bedrooms. He opened another window. The breeze, although warm, circulated the stale, stifling air inside the house. He put away his clothes and placed his toiletries in the bathroom separating the two bedrooms. Sufficiently moved in, he examined the kitchen to see what he needed to pick up in Flagstaff. To his delight, someone had stocked the cupboards, refrigerator and freezer to last quite a few days.
He checked his watch then punched his boss’s private number into his cell phone.
“How’d it go?” he asked when Holliwell answered.
“You’ve been a detective long enough to know how this works.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never shot another cop before. And I’ve never been the only witness to a shooting before. So, I really don’t know how this works.” Trevor perched himself on the edge of the comfortable leather sofa, hoping Denny had good news. “What happened with Hawkins?”
“Well, according to Hawkins, all available resources are being used to figure out what happened.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means—he doesn’t want to tell me anything.”
Trevor rolled his head, wincing at the crunching sounds inside his neck as cartilage and bone rubbed together.
“Everyone’s shown up and anted. One badge trumps. Everyone else complains about the hierarchy. No one works together. That’s how it always goes down when the Feds show up.”
He rested his head on the back of the sofa and stared at the ceiling. In whose hands does his career rest? “So, who’s got the high hand then? Who’s running the show?”
“Right now, it’s Hawkins’ FBI team.”
“Why the hell was FBI even there that night?”
Papers rustled in the background. “They’re not sharing that information. But, if I were a betting man, I’d say either someone at Southwestern tipped them off, or they got the same lead we did.”
“What about IA? What’re they doing?”
“Same thing they always do, drag things out.”
“They’re not talking either?”
“The only sure thing is that the identity of the officer you shot, Sean Glaskel, new to Glendale PD, relocated from Oklahoma.”
“Why the hell was Glendale PD there?” Trevor voiced the same question he’d been asking since the night his partner got shot.
“That’s what everyone wants to know.”
The ticking clock on the wall drew his attention. With quite a bit of daylight remaining, he’d have plenty of time to ride around the ranch, get his bearings and reacquaint himself with the land before dark. And hopefully relax a little. He remembered from years ago that several ponds and other water sources were on the property. He was anxious to see if he could remember their exact locations. In a few days, the hands, such as they were, needed to be ready go into the high country to drive the free-range cattle down for the winter. It’d be a good idea to map out all available water sources and potential hazardous areas beforehand.
Rising from the sofa, he stood in front of the window overlooking his front yard. Several quail pecked the ground. “I’m settled for the time being near Flag. I’m not far away if you need me. It looks like I’ve got good cell service so call me the minute you hear anything.”
After disconnecting and returning the phone to his pocket, Trevor left the house and crossed the yard. Halfway to the barn he stopped. Ketra walked a blue roan filly around the barrel pattern. The horse shied away from the barrels, but Ketra’s patience and soothing encouragement calmed her. The woman he’d encountered when he’d first arrived was nervous and scared. The same woman’s actions now with this filly suggested a gentle disposition and self-assuredness to the contrary. Perplexing for sure.
She caught him staring, stopped and glared back, holding eye contact until he entered the barn. At least he hadn’t found her belly up in the dirt.
He wandered down her wing of the barn, stopping
to inspect each stalled animal. The horses were impressive and well groomed, several nickered a greeting. He rubbed the velvety nose of a tall paint mare with soft dark eyes.
“Hello, girl,” he murmured, inching the door shut behind him. “Aren’t you a beauty. And a big girl, too.” He rubbed the mare’s withers and nose, patted her belly, bent and lifted a front hoof.
“What’re you doing?”
“Admiring this beautiful mare.”
“These horses are here for training. They’re not your concern.”
“Well, since I’m the new boss here for a while, and since these horses are part of this ranch,” he hooked a thumb in one of his belt loops, “they are my concern.”
She aimed her challenging blue gaze at his. “You’re not the boss of me. And no one messes with my horses. Get out!”
The mare shuffled. He stroked her neck. “Suppose I don’t want to. How you gonna make me?”
Baiting her was not the thing to do. But she was adorable all riled up, her golden hair haloing her flushed face. He imagined her in his bed, naked, after a night of crazy, wild sex. What the fuck? Do. Not. Go. There!
He struggled to replace the lusty thought of the petite blonde before him with a painful memory of his ex-wife’s treachery. His efforts failed. The beautiful blonde stomped away from the stall with a huff.
He chuckled and bent to re-examine the mare’s feet.
The very familiar sound of a shotgun chamber being loaded captured his undivided attention. He straightened from behind the horse. Ketra glared at him through the top grate on the stall door, an ancient shotgun aimed at this head. Even though his heart rate increased, he still fought the urge to laugh. He was almost certain she wouldn’t shoot him. At least not with the horse in the stall. The gun looked huge in her delicate hands.
“You gonna get away from my horse, or am I gonna shoot you?”
One half of his mouth twisted upward. “You think you can hit me and not this big beauty in front of me?”
She lifted the gun higher on her shoulder and cocked her head to look down the sight on the barrel. He locked gazes with her, watching for a change in her eyes. When they narrowed to slits, he wondered if perhaps she might shoot him after all. He put his hands in the air. Just in case.
“Knock it off. I’m coming out.” He lowered his hands a fraction and moved around the mare, stopping when he was next to the horse’s nose. “Put the gun down.”
He waited for her to comply before moving out of the stall. She held the gun slack in front of her but still pointed at him. He could grab it from her in a split second. Instead, he put his hands up again, creating a mock stand-off. He’d let her have the upper hand. For now.
“These are Kettie’s horses.”
Trevor pivoted toward the voice behind him, still mindful of the gun targeting his gut. As a trained law enforcement officer, he knew better than to turn his back on a gun, no matter how trivial the threat. In this case, he was pretty certain she wouldn’t intentionally shoot him, but she could accidently pull the trigger. Or she might even drop the antiquated piece of crap. That could cause some real damage.
The odd little man who’d befriended Ketra earlier stood a few feet away. He had some kind of disability, childlike but mature at the same time. Although his words slurred, Trevor didn’t think he’d been drinking.
“She doesn’t like anyone to go near her horses. They’re here for training. Only Ketra rides them.”
“I see,” Trevor said. “Thank you for explaining that to me.”
He looked at Ketra, more relaxed but still irritated. The gun was in her right hand, the barrel pointing toward the floor, while she rubbed her temple with her left. Taking advantage of her negligence, he reached for the gun. She immediately backed away. “Get out.”
“Which horses I can ride?”
She stood taller and rolled her shoulders back, which thrust her bosom forward. Of their own volition, his eyes dropped to her chest. Realizing that her posture adjustment had attracted unwanted attention, she slumped and grabbed hold of her right shoulder with her left hand.
Trevor smiled, knowing his admiration of her body made her uncomfortable. He shrugged. Using the gun, she pointed toward the other side of the barn. When he instinctively ducked, the corners of her mouth turned up. She waved the gun around some more, pretending ignorance about which horses he could ride.
She lowered the gun and smiled; the transformation mesmerizing. Her angelic face and upturned lips vacuumed the breath from his lungs. Long blond locks shimmered like white gold, framing flawless skin and luscious full lips precisely sculpted over straight, pearly teeth. High rosy cheek bones bronzed from the sun. The most astonishing woman he’d ever seen stood mere inches away from him.
“There’s a big paint stallion out in the pasture,” she cooed. “He’s perfect for you.”
Trevor tore his eyes away from her cherubic face and gazed at the stallion grazing in the distance. When his eyes returned to hers, she blinked and produced another heart-stopping, yet phony, happy face. Kicking himself for allowing her charms to erode his defenses, he took a step toward her. Her grin vanished. He frowned, grabbed the gun with his left hand and her chin with his right. When panic flared in her eyes, he winced. After his earlier treatment, he couldn’t blame her for thinking that he might hurt her.
“Nice try.” He released her chin. “I’ve been warned about Lucifer.”
“I’ll show you where you can find a horse, Mr. Trevor.” The peculiar little man shuffled closer to Ketra. He shifted his feet and wrung his hands. It was hard to tell if he had some kind of physical condition or if something made him edgy.
“What is your name, sir?”
“Brooks McCall. I help Ketra in the barn and I help Silas in the kitchen.”
“Well, I’m glad you do, Brooks.” Trevor clapped him on the shoulder. “Miss Ketra obviously needs lots of help.” He winked at her, earning a scowl.
“I know,” Brooks responded, oblivious to Trevor’s double meaning. “She’s so small. Sometimes she needs help with heavy stuff. Or when the horses won’t behave, I help.”
So, his suspicions about the woman weren’t unfounded even though Rocky had denied that she couldn’t carry her own weight.
Trevor let his gaze wander up and down Ketra’s body. “Well not all of her is small,” he said with a wicked grin. Lingering his gaze overly long on her lips, he added, “She does have a nice big—attitude.”
“You’re an ass.”
“I rest my case. And for the record, I’m on to your little secret.”
Her amazing eyes narrowed.
“I mean you no harm. You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He stared at her for a couple of minutes, wondering if she’d deny it. With a sad smile, he added. “Tell you what. Lose the attitude and I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Deal?”
She eased away from him without answering.
“Brooks, let’s go have a look at those horses.”
With a backward glance at Ketra, Brooks led the way toward the opposite side of the barn.
“I’ll tell you what,” she called after them. “Stay the hell away from me or I’ll shoot you. Deal?”
Given her performance so far today, Trevor was almost positive she’d require his assistance again, though she’d never admit it. He offered her his most charming smile. “Do what you gotta do, sweetheart.”
Chapter Seven
Ketra wished she had something to throw at his backside. Not that it wasn’t a nice tight backside, but still—what a pompous jerk. Pulling her eyes away from his butt, encased in tight-fitting Wranglers, she got a bottle of water from the small refrigerator in the tack room and took a long swig.
She leaned her forehead against the tack room wall. Why does he have to be so good looking? Upon closer inspection, he didn’t really look all that much like Kyle
, except they were both ridiculously tall with dark hair and light eyes. While Kyle’s had been blue, Trevor’s were dove gray and they darkened when he was irritated. When had she noticed that?
Disgusted with her wayward thoughts, she removed the dusty hat and ran her fingers through her tangled curls. She had to force her mind away from the annoying, arrogant foreman or she’d never get any work done. Maybe a snack before working with the next horse would help clear her mind.
She tucked her hair back under her hat and left the tack room. Trevor was leading a big buckskin mare from the far side of the barn. It figures he’d choose my favorite ranch horse. She considered telling him to pick another one, but the thought of being near him made her stomach flutter. Why did his closeness make her weak-kneed? And for God’s sake, why was she even standing here thinking about him?
He swung into the saddle with ease and natural grace. Where did Rocky find him anyway? No question he had enough arrogance to lead Rocky’s group of ragtag cowboys. And he seemed comfortable enough in the saddle. But, given his penchant for annoying her, and that fact that he skewed her out of orbit and made her feel things she believed long dead inside her, his presence here was not good. Godawful in fact.
Brooks waved at her. Before she could stop gawking and move her feet, Trevor turned in the saddle. He tipped his hat and moved the horse between her and her house. He sat looking down at her as if he was trying to speak but had swallowed his tongue in the process. Damn her stomach to hell for filling up with overzealous butterflies. Fighting the urge to return to the barn, she stuffed her hands into her pockets.
“Miz Weston?”
Silas Green, the bunkhouse cook, approached from the barn holding a square glass dish wrapped tightly with aluminum foil. She felt a bit less light-headed as she moved away from the compelling foreman. Silas was one of three men at the ranch she was comfortable being around.
“I made this for you. I want you to take it with no argument. It’s lasagna. I made extra for you for fixin’ those shirts of mine.”
On Common Ground Page 4