The Reluctant Rancher~Badlands (Contemporary Western Romantic Suspense)

by J. D. Faver

  He was dressed in the prescribed black, and wore a black Stetson to cover his blond hair. He gazed around at George and the other men. They were alert, anticipating that their patience would prove rewarding.

  George grunted and pointed out toward the main road. A large truck had slowed and was turning onto the caliche road leading to the pasture. The driver killed the lights after he turned. A pick-up turned in behind the big truck and switched off his headlights as well.

  E.J. could see that the large one was a cattle hauler. It pulled forward and the driver sat inside, idling the motor.

  E.J.’s chest felt tight as the impact of what was about to happen hit him. The nerve of these guys. How could they just pull up a truck and steal someone else’s cattle?

  George and his men were silent and still as statues. It was as if they had stopped breathing.

  The pick-up driver turned off the engine and E.J. could hear the sound of doors opening and slamming shut. Men talked in low voices. Someone opened the gate and the cattle truck backed slowly into the pasture.

  Come right on in.

  As soon as the driver of the cattle truck turned off the motor and stepped down, George spurred his horse. “Get ‘em!”

  A bedlam of horses and riders pursued the men on foot. Most of the rustlers scrambled toward the parked vehicles, but one took off across the field.

  Gotcha’

  E.J. clapped his heels against Stryker’s sides and the magnificent stallion tore into action. The sound of hoof beats gave him a sense of elation as he bent close to Stryker’s neck. The stale air freshened as horse and rider sliced through the murky night.

  He quickly overtook the running man and circled around to face him. Stryker reared and pawed the air. The man turned and ran back toward the trucks, but E.J. got control of the horse rode the man down before he could escape.

  “Stop! Wait! I give up,” the man shouted. “Here’s my gun. Don’t shoot me!”

  E.J. heard the sound of something hitting the dirt. Gun? He hadn’t thought to be armed. Damn! What an idiot I am. The image of his father being proud of him was replaced by the all-too-familiar picture of Eldon ridiculing him.

  He blew out a huff of air. “Raise your hands and start walking back to the gate.”

  “Okay, just don’t shoot me.” The man began trudging back the way they had come.

  “I’ll try not to.” E.J. dismounted and felt around with his boot for the gun the man dropped. When he hefted it, the weight of the cold metal told him it was a large caliber. Why didn’t I bring one of these? There was a small arsenal at the house, but it hadn’t occurred to him to arm himself. He shook his head and remounted. Idiot!

  By the time he and his prisoner had rejoined the others, there was no sign of the pick-up. George must have called the sheriff, because the whine of distant sirens stabbed into the air.

  “Good job, Boss,” George said. “The others got away in the pick-up, but I got the license plate. The sheriff is on his way.”

  “Good job, yourself.” E.J. dismounted and gazed at the gaping rear of the cattle truck. He gave himself a mental head slap and opened the saddlebag. He hadn’t brought a weapon, but he had thought to bring a high-beam Maglite. He slipped the flashlight out of the bag and replaced it with the confiscated gun. Let’s see what else we can see.

  He turned on the torch and shone it into the empty cavern of the truck bed. Taking a few tenuous steps inside, he paused. The back of his neck tingled as a spiral of fear snaked down his spine. He halfway expected someone to step out of the darkness and blow a hole through him. George took a step onto the truck bed behind him. Good. Now they have two targets.

  “Man, what is this thing?” George asked.

  “Cattle truck?” E.J. wisecracked.

  “Not like any I’ve ever seen. Shine the light back there.” He pointed to the front of the bed.

  When E.J. lifted the beam to sweep the rest of the space, he almost dropped it. There was a partition running down the center of the truck bed. “That is weird.” He took a few steps forward with George right beside him.

  “It looks like some sort of room,” George offered. “There’s a door. Shit! It’s got a bolt on the outside.”

  George stepped forward and pulled back the bolt, throwing the door open wide. He made a sound and put his sleeve over his face. “What the hell?”

  The stench of human waste and something else reached E.J. and his gut clench up in sympathy. He pressed his forearm over his nose and tried to quell his gag reflex. He kept the light aimed at the back of the enclosure, which had obviously housed human cargo. There was fecal matter in the corner and the stench of urine was overwhelming. E.J. coughed and kept his sleeve tight over his nose as he tried to mouth breath into his shirt.

  “There’s blood!” George pointed to the forward part of the bed. A wash of brownish-red stained the wall with a series of what looked like bullet holes for punctuation.

  E.J. swallowed hard. The scream of sirens drew closer and whined down to silence. He heard the sound of slamming doors and turned away from the gruesome scene. “Let’s go talk to the sheriff.”

  When E.J. jumped off the back of the truck, he heard the unmistakable sound of a shotgun being cocked.

  “Hold it right there and get them hands up! Turn around real slow.”

  “Sheriff, it’s E.J. Kincaid. These are my men, except for the one who was trying to steal my cattle.”

  “So you say. Got some identification on you?”

  “Well, hell no! I didn’t come for a tea party.”

  “I ain’t the sheriff. He’s off tonight at some function over in Amarillo. I’m in charge now, and I don’t cotton to some smart-mouth kid telling me what’s what.”

  E.J. removed his hat and stared into the headlights of the sheriff’s cars.

  “Easy, boss. Don’t want you to get shot before you can sign my first paycheck.”

  Reluctantly, E.J. raised his hands.

  The shotgun-wielding deputy stepped forward, and patted E.J. down.

  “I’m not armed,” E.J. said through his gritted teeth.

  “Well, I am, sonny, so just you don’t forget it.” The deputy turned to George, who raised his hands higher.

  “I’m carrying a sidearm, sheriff.” George volunteered, and the deputy disarmed him. The other men followed George’s example.

  “In case anyone’s interested, Deputy, that guy is the one who was trying to steal my cattle.” E.J. pointed to the would-be rustler.

  “Keep them hands up, if you know what’s good for you, sonny,” the deputy snarled.

  E.J. blew out an impatient breath. “Look, deputy!” He gestured again at the man who had driven the cattle truck. “This man came to steal my cattle. The rest got away, but you need to be questioning him, not the rest of us.”

  The deputy squinted at both men. “Settle down sonny. I’ll handle it.”

  The would-be rustler assumed a cocky attitude. “Yeah, settle down, sonny.”

  The rage in E.J.’s gut overflowed and without thinking, he popped him one. E.J.’s fist flew straight out and landed on the man’s jaw with a loud crack, propelling him into the ditch.

  George grinned and applauded. The rest of the hands joined in.

  E.J. flexed his wrist. He hoped the guy in the ditch was enjoying twice as much discomfort as the shaft of pain that shot up his arm.

  “That does it, sonny!” The deputy in charge, called one of the others over. “Get this jackass in the back of your car. Read him his rights nice and slow ‘cause he don’t seem to understand English real well.”

  “Yes sir,” the other deputy murmured. He snapped handcuffs on E.J.’s wrist and fastened it to the other one behind his back.

  “Wait!” E.J. experienced a sense of panic. This is all wrong. “I’m not the one who should be arrested.”

  “Listen, dumbass. You just assaulted a man, right in front of all these witnesses. I can’t ignore that now, can I?”

  “George, t
ake care of Stryker, will you?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  E.J. was hustled to the back of the second patrol car and shoved inside. The deputy stood in the open doorway and read him his rights by the light of a small flashlight. He droned on and on, reading from a card he’d pulled out of his pocket.

  E.J. interrupted him. “Wait! That’s what I want. I want a lawyer.”

  “You can call one when we get to the station. In the meantime, just make yourself comfortable.” He slammed the door, effectively locking E.J. inside.

  “Aw shit!” He tried to see what was going on outside, but was too far away. Finally, he settled for just trying to find a way to lessen the pressure on his throbbing wrist with the handcuffs secured behind him.

  ~*~

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  She thought she’d surprise him. Jenna had helped deliver a new foal and the time had gotten away from her. After two nights away from E.J., she was ready to remind him why he’d given her that big rock.

  She’d barely even taken the time to go home and freshen up for her sweetie. But, the smell of horse and other horse-related organic matter had been pretty rank. A quick shower and change of clothes had done her a world of good. When she glanced at herself in the mirror, she was quite pleased with the results.

  On a whim, she had let Rufus jump in the truck. This having a boyfriend thing sure has put a crimp in my relationship with my dog. “Good boy,” she said, as he settled on the passenger side. “Might as well find out if E.J. is going to be a good doggie-daddy.”

  Now she was turning in at the entrance to the Kincaid homestead, but she could still smell the remnants of her earlier adventures. “Pee-yewww!” She would have to give the truck a good cleaning to get rid of the odor. She hoped the perfume she’d spritzed on would be stronger than the horse stench.

  “I think you could use a good bath too, my friend.” She reached over to scruffle behind Rufus’s ears.

  As she pulled up to the house, the lights were off, but E.J.’s Jaguar was parked close to the front and everything looked peaceful.

  She felt a little spooked by the eerie darkness on top of the total quiet. Not a breath of air stirred. It was a near moonless night, so the dark was almost pitch-black.

  She hesitated a moment before turning off the ignition. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all? Maybe he won’t be happy to be waked up? Maybe he has someone else in his arms? Maybe that damned Celeste Pigeon has finally gotten her hooks into him?

  As each possibility crossed her mind, the knot of fear turned into a cloud of anger. “You stay here, Rufus. I’ll find out if the welcome mat is out.” She turned off the motor and slammed the door when she got out. That will give them fair warning. He can hide her in the closet.

  In her heart, Jenna knew she was way off base, but somehow, in the back of her mind, she still wasn’t sure why E.J. claimed to be in love with her, and if he was just messing with her, she wanted to be prepared. She rang the doorbell and took a deep breath. I ought to be ashamed of myself. I’m the luckiest woman on the planet and I know it.

  She heard no response from inside the house. That queasy feeling in her gut returned. Maybe I was right. She leaned on the doorbell again.

  “He ain’t inside there,” a gruff male voice spoke from the shadows of the porch.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood at attention and her flesh crawled as she recognized the voice. “Leon? What are you doing here?”

  He came out from behind one of the tall columns holding up the porch. Even in the faint light cast by the sliver of crescent moon, she could see the glint of the revolver in his hand. “I was waitin’ for your boyfriend…my ex-boss.”

  She couldn’t breathe… couldn’t speak. She was frozen with fear. She glanced at her truck. She could outrun the man, but she couldn’t outrun the bullet. “What do you want with E.J.?” Her voice sounded shaky to her own ears.

  Leon emitted an indelicate snort. “Let’s just say, we got some settlin’ up to do.”

  “Well, I’ll just leave you guys to it, then.” She took a step off the porch.

  “Not so fast! I think you’ll be staying with me for a while. At least as long as it takes for your boyfriend to come up with a million dollars.”

  She sucked in a breath. Cold fear shot through her as Leon wrapped his rough fingers around her wrist.

  Rufus set up a ruckus of barks. He whined and scratched against the window of her truck.

  Her heart throbbed against her ribcage, like a frightened animal trying to get out. Determined not to show her fear, she tried to remain impassive.

  “Let’s you and me take a little walk.” He gave her a shove in the direction of the barn. “I’ll be right behind you, so don’t try nothin’ stupid.”

  She swallowed hard and tried not to think of the gun pointed at her spine. As she neared the outbuildings, she saw Leon’s truck parked in the shadows.

  Another stab of fear. Her breath came in short little gasps.

  He opened the driver’s side and gestured with the gun. “Git in.”

  ~*~

  The phone rang, jerking Cami from a deep sleep. She was nestled in Breck’s arms and somehow, moving from this haven seemed the cruelest of options. He stirred and reached for the phone, but she got it first. “Go back to sleep. You know it’s for me.”

  He sank back down onto the pillow, grumbling unintelligibly.

  “Hello?” she said.

  “Doc? This is Deputy Samuels. We got a prisoner here at the sheriff’s office who got injured and he’s asking for you by name.”

  She sat straight up. “A prisoner?”

  Those words caught Breck’s attention. He lurched upright and turned on the light. “What?”

  “Yeah,” the deputy said. “He says his name is E.J. Kincaid, but he ain’t got no identification on him.”

  She blew out a breath of air, mentally shaking her head. “Tall, blond man?”

  “Yeah, that’s him. He hurt his wrist and it’s all swole up now. Says he’s in pain.” The deputy paused. “And he’s askin’ for a lawyer, so you might want to see if Mr. Ryan will come with you.”

  She hung up and got out of bed, motioning for Breck to do the same.

  “You’re going to take care of a prisoner?”

  “No, we are. It’s E.J. Kincaid. He’s hurt and in jail, so get dressed and let’s see what’s going on.”

  “Oh, great! My favorite person. What did Mr. Fancy Pants go and do now?”

  Cami was climbing into a pair of jeans and looking for her shoes. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out. I wish you could get over your problem and get to know him. He’s a very nice person.”

  Breck was almost dressed and stuffing his feet into his boots. “So you say. I just wonder what this ‘nice guy’ did to get himself thrown in jail.”

  ~*~

  E.J. had been sitting in one of two small holding cells at the back of the sheriff’s office. The cuffs were off, but his left wrist was swollen twice its usual size and had a ring of purple bruise where the handcuffs had been. Throbbing pain pulsed his whole arm, keeping his anxiety level high.

  He’d inquired as to why the cattle rustler was not in the other cell and he’d been told the wrong-doer had been taken by ambulance to the hospital in Canyon. E.J. hadn’t realized he’d hit the thief that hard. After all, he’d punched with his left hand, but then again, he had been pretty irate. He didn’t think it possible for the rustler’s jaw to hurt any more than his own wrist.

  He hoped the deputy had gotten hold of Cami, and that she wasn’t off delivering a baby somewhere. And he hoped Breck wouldn’t keep her from coming. He heaved a deep sigh, leaned back against the wall and tried as best he could, to relax.

  Thankfully, Jenna hadn’t witnessed his performance this evening. He’d had high hopes of catching all the culprits and putting an end to the cattle rustling, once and for all. He was certain Leon Harwell was behind the thefts. But, no. Instead of roundin
g up all the rustlers, they had only been able to catch the cattle truck driver.

  He ground his jaw tight. If the sheriff was here, he would have handled things differently. Or maybe he thinks I’m a complete ass too.

  The door to the hallway leading back to the cells banged open and the deputy appeared. “Come on outta there. The doc’s here and she insisted that I bring you up front.”

  The cell door released and E.J. stood, suddenly feeling shaky. His terse escort ushered him to the front office where Cami and a tight-lipped Breck stood waiting.

  “Oh, E.J., what happened?” Cami stepped forward, but stopped short, staring at him open-mouthed.

  “Cami, Breck, I appreciate you coming at this hour. I seem to have twisted my wrist or something.” He held up his hand, displaying the puffy, purple appendage.

  “That looks bad,” Cami said. “We should have that x-rayed immediately.”

  “Hold on, now.” Deputy Samuels interjected. “This man’s under arrest for assault.”

  “Assault?” Cami opened her eyes wide.

  E.J. made a scoffing noise. “I popped the guy who was trying to rustle more of my cattle.”

  Breck stood up at that, his brows drawing together. “Rustler?”

  E.J. winced when Cami probed the swollen wrist. “Yeah, my new foreman, George Longbow, said there are a couple of hundred head missing. He was with me tonight, along with several other new hands.”

  Breck turned to the deputy. “If my wife says he needs to be X-rayed, then that’s what needs to be done.”

  The deputy sputtered a protest. “I can’t just let him go waltzing outta here.”

  Breck scowled. “I sure wouldn’t want to be you when the sheriff gets back. Especially if you refuse treatment for a local citizen who has never been in any trouble before.”

  The deputy squinted from Breck to E.J. and back. “How do I know he won’t just take off?”

  Breck made a scornful sound. “He owns half the county. Where’s he going to go?” He stepped closer to the deputy and waved a hand in E.J.’s general direction. “I personally vouch for him, and I plan to represent him if any charges are brought to bear.” He turned and walked back to stand beside Cami. “Which I doubt will come to pass.” He gave the deputy the benefit of a steely-eyed glare. “We cattlemen take the crime of rustling very seriously.”