The Danger Within

by Valerie Hansen

  Michael put down her suitcase and backed toward the door. “Well, then, I’ll say good night. Get some shut-eye. The hands and I usually eat about seven, after morning chores. Dorothy used to start baking before dawn but Imelda never got going that early.”

  “Refresh my memory. Who’s Dorothy?”

  “Dorothy kept house and cooked for the Double V for years. She retired last year. I hired Imelda to take her place because her husband, Norberto, already worked for me. I thought it would be good for them both.” Michael grimaced. “I just hadn’t counted on her getting hurt and distracting him from his regular chores.”

  Layla was nodding. “Okay. Got it. Breakfast at seven.” She yawned and covered her mouth. “I usually have a handful of granola and some yogurt. I don’t suppose that’s the kind of breakfast you have in mind.”

  “Not hardly. You can look over the grocery supplies and make out an order list tomorrow. In the meantime, I know there are plenty of fresh eggs in the refrigerator. You do eat those, don’t you?”

  Layla nodded and yawned again. “I’m what they call an ovo-lacto vegetarian. I eat eggs and dairy products.”

  “That’s comforting. Would it kill you to fry a little ham to go with the eggs?”

  “It wouldn’t hurt me nearly as much as it did the pig,” Layla quipped. “How about an omelet?”

  “Okay. Whatever. Just hot food and plenty of it. Plan on a maximum of six. Some of the men have been fending for themselves and doing their own cooking since Imelda got hurt, so I’m not sure how many will show up. We can discuss the week’s menus in the morning, after you’ve had a chance to look over the pantry.”

  “Um-hum.” Layla bit back the urge to quit the job then and there. When the rancher had asked her if she could cook, she hadn’t thought it would be for a horde of hungry men. Most of her meals were eaten raw. How in the world was she going to please a bunch of guys whose idea of a good cook was anyone who could char a hunk of some poor defenseless animal to their taste?

  She opened her mouth to ask Michael if he had any tofu in his refrigerator, then decided against it, said, “Good night,” and watched him depart.

  Smokey came up and laid his head on her lap as soon as they were alone. She scratched behind his pendulous ears. “I’ve fallen in with a bunch of carnivores,” she told the dog. “Your kind of people. The table scraps around here should please you more than mine do. Ugh.”

  He thumped his tail against the couch as if he understood and sympathized.

  Layla smiled. “It’s okay, baby. I can stand almost anything for a little while. We won’t be here for long.”

  When Michael entered the ranch house kitchen the following morning he was greeted by a scene that nearly made him burst out laughing.

  Layla had tied her hair back with a ribbon, which was just as well, since she had flour from her fingertips to her elbows, dusted on her cheeks, and spotting her makeshift apron. The dining table wasn’t set because she’d apparently rolled out her biscuit dough there and had yet to clean up the residue.

  “Something smells great,” Michael said.

  Layla whirled. “Oh, no! Is it seven already?”

  He checked his watch. “Actually, it’s ten after. Don’t worry. Norberto’s gone to fix Imelda breakfast and the other men have already eaten. It’s just you and me. And maybe my foreman, Hector Delgato. I haven’t talked to him this morning so I’m not sure.”

  “Whew!” Layla drew the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving more white streaks behind. “That’s a relief. I was afraid I was going to have to start frying eggs before I got this mess cleaned up.”

  One of Michael’s eyebrows arched. “You do get into your work, don’t you?”

  That brought a grin. “If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing all-out.”

  “So, I see.” His glance briefly rested on the remains of her biscuit-making project, then traveled back to her. “Looks like you got dough on your necklace.”

  “I know. I took my bracelets off before I started. I guess I’m going to have to leave my other jewelry for later next time, too.” Blue eyes twinkling, she looked into his darker gaze. “I hate that. I don’t feel normal without it.”

  “I like it, too.”

  “My jewelry? You do?”

  “Sure. You jingle. I can always hear you coming.”

  “Kind of like belling a cat, you mean?” Layla was wiping down the table, trying to gather the loose flour and little globs of dough as she talked.

  “You could put it that way.” Michael paused as they were joined by a third party. “Hector. I wondered if you’d make it back for breakfast. Norberto said you were checking the south fence.”

  “I was,” the other man said. Though he answered Michael, his attention was on Layla. Michael didn’t like the way he was obviously sizing her up.

  “Dr. Dixon, this is Hector Delgato, my foreman,” Michael said.

  “Pleased to meet you.” Layla smiled amiably and held up her floury fingers. “I’d shake hands, but…”

  “Doctor? Of what, biscuits?” Hector said with a smirk.

  “This morning, I am,” she replied. “When I’m not up to my elbows in food, I’m a veterinarian.”

  “I see.”

  Michael watched, curious, as his foreman’s expression became unreadable. Where before he’d seemed lecherous and snide, he now appeared put off. Perhaps he was one of those egotistical men who didn’t approve of educated women. It was entirely possible. Michael knew too little about him personally to judge.

  “I just stopped in to tell you I fixed the fence,” Hector told him, pointedly ignoring Layla. “I need to run into town. We’re out of calf supplement.”

  “You’re not staying to eat?” Michael asked.

  “No. Not interested. Too much to do.”

  “Okay. See you later.”

  Michael watched Hector leave, then turned to Layla. “I’m sorry he was so abrupt. I don’t know what got into him. Guess you scared him.”

  “Me? How?”

  “By being a college grad and a vet to boot, I suppose. Hector came with good references but he doesn’t have a fancy degree to prove how smart he is.”

  “It’s not just that,” she said thoughtfully. “There was something else that bothered me.”

  “Like what? His voice is always kind of raspy.”

  “I don’t think it was that.” She carried her washrag to the sink and rinsed it out before returning to the table. “His eyes, maybe? I really can’t say. I’ll tell you one thing, though. If he was a dog, I’d think twice before I’d turn my back on him. He’s—”

  She hesitated. Sniffed. Straightened. “Do you smell smoke? Oh, no! My biscuits!”

  Michael got to the oven first and yanked open the door. The room immediately filled with so much smoke the alarm on the ceiling in the hall began to wail.

  He grabbed a couple of pot holders and lifted the pan filled with the charred remains.

  “Are they edible?” she shouted over the pulsing squeal of the ongoing alarm.

  “Not in my book. Open the back door, will you? I’ll take them outside so they stop making that stupid alarm go crazy.”

  As he passed, she sheepishly asked, “How do you like your eggs?”

  Michael was coughing and laughing too hard to answer.

  The private line rang in the office. The voice was familiar. And expected. “Good morning, Chief.”

  “Don’t call me Chief,” El Jefe growled into the phone.

  “What should I call you, then? Escalante?”

  “No. I told you to never use that name again.”

  “Sorry. What’s wrong? Is there a problem with the shipment?”

  “I hope not. It should arrive in the States tomorrow. Once it’s in the tunnels and our men have cut it for the street, I’ll feel better.”

  “Just keep telling yourself how filthy rich you and I are going to be.”

  “Among other things.” He cleared his throat. “I have so
me unexpected details to see to today. Don’t look for me until after the shipment arrives.”

  “What’s so important that you’d stay away when such a big deal is going down? The others in the cartel won’t like that.”

  “It can’t be helped. I heard Vance found himself a new veterinarian.”

  “So?”

  “So, I intend to look up her background and see where she went to school, where she’s worked. I don’t want anybody to figure out what’s going on with his cattle before I’m ready.”

  “You going to lay off for a while?”

  El Jefe cursed. “I wish I could. I poisoned another batch yesterday. They haven’t died yet but they will.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, we’ll find out how good at her job the pretty doctor is. If it looks like she’s on to me, she’ll have to have an accident.”

  “Fatal?”

  Laughing, El Jefe said, “I certainly hope so.”

  Chapter Four

  Layla was cleaning up after breakfast when Marilyn showed up again, this time at the back door.

  “Morning,” Layla called out. “I think Michael’s gone to the barn with Norberto.”

  “Good morning, yourself. Actually, I wasn’t looking for Michael.” She stepped aside and gestured proudly. “I brought someone to meet you. This is my daughter, Holly.”

  Layla smiled. Mama had brought reinforcements this time. How funny! She dried her hands and held one out to the willowy brunette. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Layla Dixon.”

  Returning her smile, Holly asked, “DVM?”

  “That’s what my diploma says. I still can’t get used to being called Dr. Dixon, though. Just call me Layla.”

  “I’m Holly Montgomery. Mom keeps forgetting I’m not a Vance anymore. Jake and I were married the same time Peter and Emily were.”

  “I’m afraid you’ve lost me there,” Layla said. “I haven’t lived around here for years. I’m not up on the latest gossip.”

  “Just as well,” Holly said, laughing lightly. “There are way too many Vances and Montgomerys anyway. If I hadn’t been raised in Colorado Springs I’d get the relationships confused, too.”

  Marilyn had remained near the door. “We just stopped by to pick up Lidia’s casserole dish. While you two girls get acquainted, I think I’ll run out and say hello to Michael.”

  Giggling, Holly shook her head as her mother beat a hasty retreat. “Subtle, isn’t she?”

  “Not really. Did I scare her that much last night?”

  “You floored her,” Holly admitted. “My brother hasn’t had a girlfriend since Tammy broke his heart and headed for California to be a movie star.”

  “Takes all kinds,” Layla said. “But I’m not anybody’s girlfriend. I really was hired to fill in for Imelda and help with the livestock.”

  “I believe you. Mom, however, has already started imagining you and my big brother as a couple.”

  Thoughtful and sympathetic, Layla took the opportunity to ask more about her boss’s past. “I can’t imagine anyone choosing Hollywood over the peacefulness and beauty of this country.” Let alone jilting Michael Vance. “Maybe Tammy will change her mind and come back.”

  “Not likely. She actually landed a part on a soap opera, in spite of having virtually no acting experience except for a few school plays.”

  “That’s amazing. I thought it was supposed to be next to impossible to break into show business.”

  “It is. Tammy knew what she wanted and went after it. That’s more than I can say for Mike.”

  Layla shook her head. “You’re wrong there. Michael—I mean Mr. Vance—knows exactly what he wants and puts his whole heart into it.”

  “This ranch, you mean?”

  “Yes. How long has he owned it?”

  “It’s been in our family since Grandpa Bennett bought it from Frank Montgomery Sr. to bail him out of debt. That was back in the forties. Bennett’s the one responsible for building Vance Memorial Hospital.”

  “Now I know why that name sounded familiar. The hospital was already in operation when I was a kid.”

  “Right. If the Montgomerys hadn’t sold this ranch and moved to Colorado Springs to start over, my Jake’s folks might never have met. It’s actually pretty incredible when you think about it.” She grinned. “So is your showing up at Fiona’s just when my brother needed a vet.”

  “He’d have found someone else if I hadn’t been there. The phone book is full of veterinary practices.”

  “True. And I’m sure they’re fine doctors. But he didn’t know any of them well enough to feel comfortable confiding his deep dark secrets.”

  Layla’s forehead knit. “What deep dark secrets?”

  “Uh-oh. I’m in trouble now.” Holly groaned. “Mike’s going to kill me.” She backed toward the door, groping for the handle. “Well, gotta go. See you later.”

  “Holly, what—”

  Protesting was useless. The younger woman was already outside and hurrying toward the barn. What could she have meant? Layla wondered. What kind of terrible secrets could Michael Vance have that he needed to hide from local veterinarians?

  Layla shivered. Several possibilities came to mind, none of them minor. What had she gotten herself into?

  Waiting until Marilyn and Holly drove away, Layla made a beeline for the main barn. The sooner she had it out with Michael, the better. If, as she suspected, he was trying to hide a communicable bovine disease, she was going straight to the authorities.

  She found him talking to Hector, so she stood back till the men were through and the foreman had left.

  Michael smiled. “Hi, Doc. I hear you met my baby sister.”

  “Yes.” Though Layla tried to hide her displeasure, she could tell from Michael’s changing expression that he was sensing something amiss.

  He sobered. “What’s wrong? My mother didn’t insult you, did she?”

  “No. She was very pleasant.”

  “I know Holly wouldn’t get out of line. She’s the sweetest one of the bunch.”

  “She did mention something that has me worried. How long were you going to wait before you told me your cattle are sick?”

  “They’re not.” Michael’s jaw muscles knotted, his hands curling into fists. “At least I don’t think so.”

  “Then what did your sister mean about you having a deep, dark secret that involved needing the services of a veterinarian?”

  Stepping closer to her, he gestured toward a stack of hay bales. “Have a seat. It’s a long story.”

  Layla perched on the farthest edge of the bottom row of bales, hoping he wouldn’t crowd her. She’d been trembling ever since Holly’s slip of the tongue and didn’t want Michael’s nearness to make her nervousness worse. It was one thing to admire his rugged good looks from a distance and quite another to let him get too close for comfort. No matter what his mother thought, she was not about to take her attraction to the rancher seriously. They were as unsuited to each other as any couple she’d ever met.

  Layla’s active imagination compared them to Beauty and the Beast, with a slight modification. They were more an Appreciator of Beauty and a Consumer of Beasts. Totally mismatched. To her relief, Michael sat down two bales away.

  He sighed. “It all started about three months ago.”

  “Three months! And you’re just getting around to looking into it? I don’t believe this.”

  “Hear me out before you jump to conclusions. Why do you think I didn’t want word to get out? That’s exactly the kind of reaction I’d expected from the public. You’re a professional. You should want to know all the facts before you panic.”

  “I’m not panicking,” Layla argued. “Okay. I’m listening. Talk. And it had better be good.”

  “There was, and is, no sign of disease. None. The affected animals were born and raised right here so I know I haven’t imported anything infectious. They looked fine one day and were dying the next.”

  “How many?”

>   “Five, to start with. They were healthy cows that had missed their last breeding. We’d brought them up to the squeeze chutes to check them and change their ear tags before we sent them to the sale barn.” He made a face. “Sorry. I know you don’t approve but that’s how it was.”

  “My lifestyle is my choice,” Layla said. “I don’t insist everybody stop eating meat just because I prefer not to. Go on. What happened then?”

  “We gave them a ration of hay and a little grain and left them penned up for the night. Norberto checked on them after supper and noticed a few of them down but he didn’t think anything of it. It’s not unusual for the herd to bed down to chew their cud.” He grimaced. “I suppose you know that. I’m not being condescending. I just don’t want to leave out any details.”

  “You’re doing fine.” Layla propped one foot on the hay and laced her fingers together around that knee while she concentrated.

  “In the morning, two of the cows were already dead and the others were failing. Yet there wasn’t a mark on them. Nothing.”

  “Scours? Dehydration?”

  “They were real thirsty, those that could stand long enough to drink. They didn’t last long.”

  “What did you do then?”

  “Called Doc Pritchard. He came out and took tissue samples before we bulldozed a big hole and buried everything. The lab results came back negative.”

  “You sterilized the pen, the fences?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes. Even disposed of the top layers of dirt.”

  “Has the problem recurred?”

  “Yes.” Michael got to his feet and began to pace in front of her. “That was what brought me into town the other day. I was looking for Pritchard. He’s apparently on an extended leave of absence.”

  “So,” Layla said thoughtfully, “that’s what Holly meant. You’re not hiding the losses. Your regular vet does know but he’s currently unavailable.”

  “Exactly. What I don’t want to do is start a big panic over this. I’ve kept my cattle isolated since the first deaths so I know they haven’t spread anything, but there’s no way I can prove it. The last time U.S. beef was suspected of being tainted, over thirty countries closed their borders to our meat exports.”