“Coward,” Layla teased. “This sauce is delicious. Here, taste it.”
Becca waved her hands in front of her as if she were fending off a charging bull rather than a harmless cooking spoon. “I’ll take your word for that, too.”
She was nearly to the door when she hesitated. “You never did tell me what you think of Michael.”
“If you knew that,” Layla said, smiling, “you’d be way ahead of me. I have no idea.”
Becca was still laughing softly as she waved goodbye and left.
Alone in the kitchen, Layla stirred both the pot and her thoughts. Clearly, Michael liked her. He’d said so. The problem wasn’t with him, it belonged solely to her.
She’d been positive of what she wanted out of life until she’d met the attractive rancher. Was it time to seriously rethink those past conclusions? Or was it folly to dream of another kind of life—one that gave her the kind of roots she’d never had before?
Would it kill her to relinquish her independence? Would that eventually stifle her too much? Or would it allow her to be who and what she really wanted to be? The idea of becoming a wife and mother was scary, yet enticing.
Layla chuckled. “Whoa, girl. Get a grip. You don’t even know if the man is that interested in you!”
Yes, I do, she answered, recalling their kiss. He wouldn’t have kissed her that way unless he was more than merely flirting. She supposed the real question was his motives.
And mine, Layla added. Until she decided what her own goals were and faced them squarely, there was no use rehashing notions about Michael.
She turned the stove burner to simmer, laid aside the cooking spoon and closed her eyes. “Father, help? I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know what to think. I know You brought me here for a reason but I’m still confused. I thought it was to help Michael with his cattle. Is there more? Am I supposed to see something else?”
Peace and wisdom settled over and around her like a soft, warm blanket. Limiting God’s grace was like telling the sun not to shine or the grass not to grow. There were so many more amazing possibilities and blessings within His realm, it was mind-boggling.
Layla sighed. “Okay, Lord. I get it. All I have to do is trust You and do my best, right? Well, I am. At least I think so. If I’m missing something, help me see it? Please?”
She was concentrating so heavily on her prayer she failed to hear the door open. When she opened her eyes, Michael was standing there with a puzzled look on his face.
Layla gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“No problem.” He shucked off his coat and hung it on a peg by the door. “That smells like something Aunt Lidia would fix.” His lips curled in a lopsided grin. “Is it too much to hope there are meatballs in it?”
“Way too much,” Layla answered.
“Oh, well. I can always pretend.”
An amusing, if revealing, response came to Layla’s mind and remained unspoken. If anybody was good at pretending, it was her.
Chapter Thirteen
Days that had seemed to fly by at first, now dragged. Though Layla did her best to keep busy, she still had far too much time for introspection.
To her delight, Winona and Wilbur had developed into the perfect cow-calf pair. It was too cold to leave them outside all the time because they’d been spoiled by the luxury of residing in the barn, but they now had free access to an outdoor pen as well as their usual stall.
Every time Layla saw Wilbur, his explorations of the big, wide world made her laugh. Everything was exciting and new to the frisky, rusty red and white Hereford calf. He was like an awkward, long-legged puppy, investigating every inch of his domain and seldom slowing down except to eat or nap.
Thankfully, Winona was providing lots of milk for her little one and he was rapidly gaining weight. Layla had already managed to teach Wilbur to accept her presence and a bit of petting. Winona didn’t act as if she minded sharing his upbringing, either. Given his zest for life and sense of adventure, Layla figured the poor cow was probably glad to have his attention diverted, even for short periods of time.
Having prepared and served lunch, Layla had the afternoon to herself. Her truck was still in the body shop in town. Michael had assured her the repair work was progressing as expected but had ignored her hints that he take her to see it in person. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he was acting clueless on purpose.
She stepped out into the bright sunshine, took a deep breath and was immediately blessed by the purity of the mountain atmosphere. The air temperature was rising in spite of the traces of snow that remained. Unfortunately, the snowmelt had created more mud than Layla had encountered for ages, calling for boots instead of moccasins.
Picking her way across the yard she headed for the horse barn. If she took it slow, she and Fatima could enjoy another of their almost daily outings. Thankfully, Michael didn’t insist on accompanying them as long as they stayed in sight of the main ranch buildings.
The stable was deserted. Good. Layla greeted the mare with a smile and presented a raw carrot on her flat palm. “Hello, Fatima. Look what I brought you, baby.”
Layla chuckled as the mare’s velvety lips quickly snatched it up. “Hey, that tickles.”
She picked up a hoof pick and entered the stall. “Wanna go for a ride? Huh? Well, you have to let me clean your feet first.” Layla gently touched the horse’s front leg and ran her hand along it to the pastern. “Come on. Lift your foot. That’s a good girl.”
Bending over with her back to the mare’s head, she presented a perfect target. Fatima obliged by lifting one foot, then turned her head and nudged Layla in the rear, knocking her off balance.
She staggered, recovered and laughed. “No, smarty. No more carrots for you till we get you saddled.”
After cleaning all four hooves, Layla slipped a bridle on the mare and led her out of the stall. She’d just finished tightening the saddle girth when she heard a cow begin to bawl in the distance. Her heart sped. Had Michael’s livestock been poisoned again?
The agonized, repetitive mooing frightened Fatima and she danced away when Layla tried to mount.
“Easy, girl,” Layla cooed. “Easy. It’s okay.”
Swinging into the saddle, she rode the mare out of the barn, got her bearings in relation to the distressed animal and headed that direction.
Apparently, others had heard the frantic calling, too. Michael and Norberto met her at the barn where Winona and Wilbur were kept.
Michael was first in the door. Layla stayed aboard Fatima and rode around to the outside portion of Winona’s pen, hoping she was wrong about the source of the anguish.
To her relief, Wilbur wasn’t hurt or sick. He wasn’t even there! Winona, however, was standing at the fence, staring into the distance and calling her missing calf as if her heart would break.
Frowning, Michael emerged from the inside stall. Seeing Layla, he skidded to a stop. “What’s happened? Can you tell?”
She shifted on the mare’s back and leaned to scan the ground. “No. There’s no way Wilbur could have escaped without leaving tracks in this mud. Whatever he did, he didn’t come this way.”
“His mama sure thinks he did,” Michael countered, shouting over Winona’s continuing cries. “Look at her. She hasn’t taken her eyes off that pasture.”
“I know. But there aren’t any cattle out there. If he’d gotten loose, he’d have either headed for other cows because he was curious or stayed near his mother.”
“You could always ask her what happened,” Michael suggested, tongue-in-cheek.
“Very funny. It doesn’t work like that and you know it.” Layla peered into the distance. “I’ll ride out a little way and see if I can spot him or pick up his tracks. I won’t go far.”
Michael and Winona were hollering in unison when she spun Fatima in a tight circle, gave her a nudge and headed for open country.
Michael considered following Layla in one of th
e ranch trucks, then decided against it. If she left the road, there was no telling what kind of difficult terrain she’d get into. Besides, with all this mud and muck, even four-wheel drive might prove iffy. The only surefire method of travel was on horseback.
Norberto saddled the Appaloosa while Michael gathered extra gear. “I have a cell phone and the walkie-talkies,” he told the ranch hand. “And an extra slicker. Can you think of anything else?”
“Rope?”
“No. The calf’s still small. If we do find it, I’ll just sling it over my saddle like any other dogie.”
“It will be motherless like a dogie if you don’t hurry,” Norberto gibed. “That cow is about to holler herself to death.”
“Yeah. Sounds like it, doesn’t it?” He managed a smile for his old friend and trusted employee. “You hold down the fort. If I’m not back by dark, send a posse.”
“You serious, boss?”
“Naw. I’m less worried about the calf than I am about our cow mumbler. Wilbur’s probably sound asleep in a pile of hay somewhere while Layla’s running around out there getting herself lost.”
He swung effortlessly into the saddle and handed one of the walkie-talkies to Norberto. “Listen for me. I’ll keep you posted as best I can. Radio me if that calf turns up.”
“Si. Vía con Dios.”
“Thanks.” Michael held the Appaloosa back momentarily. He appreciated the words, praying that God was with them all while they searched for the calf. “And tell Imelda I’m sick and tired of eating rabbit food. When I get back, I want a big, juicy steak with all the trimmings waiting for me.”
“But, boss—”
“No buts. You and I both know she’s been up and around for weeks. I’m not asking her to go back to cleaning, just cooking supper. Got that?”
Norberto began to grin. “Imelda has missed you, too.”
“Not half as much as I’ve missed her.”
Michael kicked the Appaloosa and headed across the yard to pick up Layla’s trail. She’d be going slowly in order to check for the calf’s tracks. Catching up to her should be relatively easy.
His gut knotted. The crazy woman had gotten under his skin so deeply he couldn’t stop thinking about her, worrying about her. Would he be as concerned if there hadn’t been suspected attempts on her life? Probably. It was as if he’d elected himself her protector and was stuck with the job whether he liked it or not.
He chuckled with self-deprecating humor. “One thing about it, life is never dull with Layla Dixon around.”
Layla had been riding in an ever-widening arc, like a hunting dog casting back and forth to pick up a scent. She saw Michael making a beeline for her and reined in the mare.
“Anything?” he called as soon as he drew near.
She shook her head. “No. Nothing. Just tire tracks.”
“What?” She could see him scowling beneath the brim of his hat.
“Tire tracks. Looks like somebody’s been through here in the past few hours. You can see where they almost got stuck in the mud.”
“Where? Show me.”
Layla led the way with Michael following. “Here. See?”
“Yeah.” He dismounted to check the ground more closely. “That’s really odd.”
“What is? It just looks like one of your ranch trucks passed by.”
“Exactly. None of my hands were assigned to drive out here. I’d never send a truck under these conditions.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“Good question,” Michael said. “You go back to the ranch and tell Norberto what we found. I’ll follow these tracks, see where they go.”
Layla huffed. “No way, cowboy. You may have given up on Wilbur but I haven’t. I’m going to keep looking.”
“You’re supposed to be the expert in animal behavior. If you haven’t found his trail by this time, you know he probably stayed near the barn.”
“Winona didn’t think so.”
“No, she didn’t, did she?” He swung back into the saddle and gathered up the reins. “Okay. Suppose the calf didn’t wander off? Suppose somebody snatched him?”
“Why would they do that?”
“Beats me. Why have all the other weird things happened around here?”
“It’s been pretty quiet lately. I was beginning to think the worst was over.”
“Yeah, me, too.” Michael regarded her soberly. “Now that I think about it, you and I should stick together. Ride with me to check out the tire tracks, then I’ll come back with you and we’ll look for Wilbur. How’s that sound?”
“Okay, I guess.” As she watched, Michael pulled a handheld radio from his pocket and called Norberto to advise him of their new quest.
Layla stared. “Hey. How come you told me I’d have to go back to the ranch to notify Norberto? Were you trying to get rid of me?”
“I was trying to keep you out of trouble,” Michael insisted. “In your case, that seems to be impossible.”
“Who made you my official guardian, anyway?”
“I don’t know. Guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He wheeled the Appaloosa and kicked it into a canter.
Following, Layla denied her hurt feelings. “Fine. Be that way. I don’t care. As soon as I get my truck back, I’m out of here. You won’t have to bother about me much longer.”
She had to urge the mare to keep up with the larger horse’s long strides. Mud splattered from the Appaloosa’s hooves, landing in splotches on Fatima’s chest and neck. Layla reined to the side so she could ride parallel.
In profile, Michael’s jaw jutted stubbornly, his spine stiff. Well, too bad. He was the one who’d complained about their relationship, not her. The accident on the winding mountain road wasn’t her fault. Neither was finding the rattlesnake in her bathroom. So what if she’d gotten caught up in his problems by coming to the Double V? It still wasn’t her fault.
She thought about telling him exactly that, then decided against speaking her mind. No matter what she said at this point, he was liable to take it wrong. Besides, it shouldn’t matter whether he was upset with her or not.
That was the crux of her problem. It did matter to her what Michael thought. It mattered a lot. And the longer she remained on his ranch, the worse it would get.
Though her quick, initial comeback had been the result of bruised ego, she realized she’d spoken the truth. She did need to leave. As soon as possible. If she stayed any longer she was going to be so head-over-heels in love with the obstinate man she might never get over it.
Ahead, Michael caught sight of the ranch truck. It was apparently abandoned in the shadow of the same rise that held the mine shaft they’d used for shelter.
Layla slowed her mare to match the Appaloosa’s walking pace. “Is that the truck we’re after?”
“Looks like it.” He held out his arm, barring her way. “You wait here. I’ll go check it out.”
“Uh-uh,” Layla said. “Where you go, I go.”
He stifled the comment on the tip of his tongue and dismounted. “Have it your way.”
They left the horses and approached the truck on foot. Michael removed his glove to touch the hood. “The motor’s still warm.”
“Which means I was right. The tracks were fresh.”
“You were right.” Scowling, he glanced her way and found her wandering off. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Over here. Look!”
Joining her, he saw a soggy, trampled area about eight feet in diameter. It was filled with footprints of either an adult deer or a calf the size of Wilbur. Parallel furrows showed that an animal had been dragged from there into the mine.
Layla stared. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“I hope not. Did you bring a flashlight?”
“No. How about you?”
“There should be one in the truck. Hang on. I’ll go look.”
He opened the passenger side door and rummaged in the glove compartment, then proudly an
nounced, “Got it!”
When he turned, ready to escort Layla into the mine, she’d disappeared.
A quick assessment of the footprints she’d left behind told him exactly what had happened. As usual, she’d walked blithely into peril without the slightest concern for his orders to the contrary.
Furious, Michael ran into the dark tunnel after her. If they ever did anything together without experiencing a major crisis, he’d probably wonder what he’d overlooked!
Layla paused just inside the mine entrance to let her eyes adjust to the dimness. It was no surprise that whoever had taken Wilbur had had to drag the poor little guy into the shaft. Cattle were notorious for hating dark places. If they couldn’t tell what was ahead, instinct forbade them to enter. It was a survival skill.
“And a good one,” she whispered. A shiver snaked up her back beneath her sweater. Her self-preservation instincts were just as keen, except they were being overridden by the urge to mother and protect the innocent calf.
She started forward with a tentative, “Wilbur? Are you in here?”
In the distance, echoing off the rock and through the tunnels, came a weak, answering bleat.
“Wilbur!” Layla shouted. “Wilbur, where are you?”
The calf began to bawl. Layla’s heart leaped. He was alive! Strong! And lost somewhere within the labyrinth.
“Good boy,” she called. “Keep talking. I’ll find you.”
Feeling her way along the rough rock wall of the tunnel, she stepped cautiously. She sensed Michael moments before she saw the beam of his flashlight come from behind.
“Over here,” she yelled. “Shine the light over here.”
The circle of illumination passed over the pile of broken rock to her right and came to rest at her feet.
“Stop!” Michael ordered.
“No. Listen. Wilbur’s just a little farther.”
“No, he isn’t. Sound bounces off these walls. He could be half a mile away.”
“Don’t be silly.” She heard his boots crunching on the littered floor. Clearly, he was hurrying.
“Slow down,” Layla yelled. “I’m fine. There’s no reason to run.”
The Danger Within Page 15