Rustled

by BJ Daniels

  As an old homestead cabin came into view, she saw Dawson rein in. Like her, he must have spotted the small creek nearby and the meadow of grass. They could push the calves only so hard. It had been slow going and they hadn’t made much headway, but she also didn’t think they’d left any strays for the wolves and grizzlies to eat.

  “We have to stop,” he said as she rode over to him. He looked as if he expected an argument from her. He knew how badly she wanted the leader of the rustling ring. So much she could taste it. But she couldn’t leave him and the calves. She figured he was counting on that.

  Rafe would be pushing the cattle down to the next corral, but he couldn’t move up the delivery date because he would have no way to contact the truck drivers with no cell phone service for miles around.

  There was time, she told herself as she swung down from her saddle. The calves had already found the creek. She headed for the old cabin. It looked as if it had been used by ranchers who brought their cattle up to summer range, maybe even the Chisholms, though not Dawson. He apparently liked the cave better.

  “You can catch up to the herd if you leave now,” Dawson said behind her. “I don’t want you staying for the wrong reasons.” She didn’t turn, didn’t answer. Rafe would be pushing the cattle toward the last corral, afraid something was amiss with her disappearance. She figured that meant he wouldn’t be doubling back again to look for her—or anyone else.

  Too bad that wasn’t the real reason she was staying here.

  “Jinx,” Dawson said behind her. There was a softness to his voice as light as a caress. She turned around to face him, saw his expression and told herself she should have taken his advice and ridden out before she got in any deeper.

  “LOOKS LIKE THINGS GOT ROUGH,” McCall said in her office. Marshall had brought her what was left of the listening device after the brothers had put on the fight at the kitchen table. “It’s not a smoke alarm. It appears to be some sort of listening device, just as Emma suspected.”

  Marshall nodded. “She didn’t bail on my father, did she?”

  McCall studied the pieces he’d brought her. She was beginning to believe more and more that Emma had been right about a lot of things.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “We have to assume whoever put this in the kitchen will have heard the fight up until the point where the device was destroyed,” the sheriff said. “With luck, that person will wait until he or she is sure all of you are away from the house and then try to replace it.”

  He smiled, obviously noticing the way she was trying not to say Aggie’s name. “Leaving yourself open just in case it isn’t Aggie?”

  “Just trying not to jump to conclusions.”

  He nodded. “I checked the house. There are at least two more of these things, one in the living room and another in my dad and Emma’s bedroom, just as you said she told you in the letter.”

  McCall could see how angry he was. “We have to keep our cool,” she warned. “If she gets any hint that we’re onto her…”

  “I know. We need her to lead us to Emma—if she has her.”

  “Have you heard anything from Zane?”

  “He called this morning in the middle of the fight. I called him back from my cell phone away from the house and told him what was going on here,” Marshall said. “He’s flying to some place in California today, the last address he could find for Emma. I told him to keep looking for her—just in case we’re wrong and Emma really did leave. I guess we’re covering all our bets.”

  “Didn’t you say your brother Dawson went to check on your cattle up on summer range?”

  “Yeah.” Marshall frowned. “I got the feeling he’d be gone for a couple of days at least. I don’t think we need to worry about him showing up unexpectedly. My brothers and I were talking. We have some new fence we started putting in before Dad was arrested. It’s up in the north forty far enough that we wouldn’t be coming back to the ranch until late.”

  “That sounds good. We want her to know you’ll be gone for a while. I’ll take it from there,” the sheriff said.

  “You sure you won’t need any help?” Marshall asked.

  McCall smiled. “Thanks, but I think I can handle it.” She knew that all the brothers would be there in a heartbeat if they thought they were needed. She liked the Chisholm men. They were all gallant, all loyal to family.

  She thought of her newest deputy, Halley Robinson, and her fiancé, Colton Chisholm. They made a cute couple. Halley made a darn good deputy. McCall was happy for her and hoped Emma’s situation had a happy ending, as well.

  “Set it up for tomorrow,” she said, afraid to put it off.

  Marshall nodded. “Dad said Emma swore she smelled the woman’s perfume in the house several times. The last time he didn’t believe her. That’s really weighing on him right now. He’s convinced that not only is Aggie alive but that she might have already hurt Emma. He is doing everything possible to get out on bail. I know he has a call in to the governor.”

  “Hopefully this will all be over by tomorrow,” the sheriff said. If Aggie showed up, McCall was just praying she would lead her to Emma. If Emma was still alive.

  THE LOOK IN DAWSON’S DARK EYES spurred Jinx’s heartbeat into a gallop.

  “Jinx,” he said again, the soft timbre of his voice melting her resolve. She watched him yank his Stetson from his head and rake his fingers through his thick black hair. His expression was one of both desperation and desire.

  She felt the same stir in her. “Chisholm…” She said his last name as if that could stop him.

  It didn’t.

  In two long strides he closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her, dragging her to him, his mouth dropping to hers, stealing her breath, making her heart drum in her chest. She looped her arms around his neck, holding on tight as if in a fierce gale.

  “What if Rafe comes back?” she said when he let her come up for breath.

  “I don’t give a damn about Rafe,” he said as his mouth hovered over her lips. And then he was kissing her again, deepening the kiss.

  Desire shot through her veins, hot and sweet. She told herself this was a mistake, but she no longer believed that as Dawson cupped her jean-clad bottom and lifted her against him. His mouth dropped from hers and trailed along her jaw to her throat to the tops of her breasts. She felt the heat of his breath, his mouth, as he ferreted one rock-hard nipple from her bra, then another.

  With a cry, she arched against him and he lifted her higher, pressing her against the sun-warmed wood of the cabin as he peeled back her shirt, her bra, and found bare skin.

  They never made it inside the cabin. As the sun rose high above the pines and clouds drifted past in the endless sea of blue overhead, they made love on their discarded clothing spread across the summer grass as the calves rested in the shade of the trees along the creek and the breeze stirred the leaves on the cottonwoods overhead.

  Chapter Eight

  The plane banked, giving Zane a view of manicured golf courses, red tiled roofs and shimmering aqua-marine swimming pools. After landing in Palm Springs, he rented a car and headed south toward the Salton Sea.

  Caliente Junction was pretty much as he’d expected. A convenience store with lots of bars on the windows, a gas station, a boarded-up Mexican food place and several more empty buildings.

  He could see what looked like a couple of houses behind the convenience store, small stucco houses sitting out in the middle of the desert. But he had little hope that the address Emma had used was anything more than one she’d pulled out of her hat.

  Parking in front of the store, he got out and went inside. He was betting that Emma had some reason for wanting to hide her past and that was why she hadn’t shared it with Hoyt.

  A bell jangled over the door and he was hit with the rich wonderful scent of homemade tamales. His stomach growled.

  An elderly Latino woman appeared behind the counter. “Can I help you?”

  “I sur
e hope so.” Zane pulled out the photograph he had of a smiling Emma McDougal Chisholm. “Do you recognize this woman?”

  She barely glanced at the photo before asking, “What has she done?”

  “She’s missing and I’m trying to find her. Her last known address was Caliente Junction.”

  “Why do you want her? Are you a cop?”

  He shook his head. “She’s my stepmother. My father is worried something has happened to her. So am I.”

  The woman studied him for a moment. “You need to talk to Alonzo.”

  When she didn’t say more, he asked, “Where do I find this Alonzo?”

  She pointed toward the back of the building. “Last house at the end of the road. You can’t miss his truck parked outside. It’s blue.”

  The truck was a lot of blues, a monster vehicle with huge tires and a body that looked as if it had been pieced together by Frankenstein during his “blue” period. Zane parked and walked up to the door. It opened before he could knock.

  “Yes?” the large elderly Latino man asked suspiciously. Alonzo was wearing baggy shorts and a huge faded Grateful Dead T-shirt. His feet were bare and it was impossible to tell his age. But if Zane had to guess, it would be late seventies.

  He gave Zane the once-over. Zane had wisely left his Stetson at home even though he felt half-naked without his hat. No way was he going anywhere without his boots and jeans, though, so he wore them and a Western shirt, which back home would have been standard ranchman’s wear. He had fit right in back in Denver.

  Now, though, he felt overdressed. “I just spoke with the woman at the store. She suggested I talk to you. I’m looking for Emma.” He handed the man the photo. “I’m not a cop or a bill collector. Emma is my stepmother. I’m afraid she might be in some kind of trouble.”

  “Your stepmother?” The old man sounded disbelieving and for the first time, Zane thought he might be at the right place.

  “My dad recently married her.”

  “Your dad?”

  But he was getting tired of the echo. “Hoyt Chisholm of Chisholm Cattle Company out of Whitehorse, Montana.”

  The man laughed. “So Emma really did marry a cowboy? Come in,” he said, pushing the door open wide and stepping back. As Zane entered, Alonzo said, “What’s this about Emma being in trouble, though? If anyone can take care of herself, it’s our Emma McDougal.”

  DAWSON LAY ON HIS BACK staring up at the sky overhead. Not since his childhood could he remember watching clouds float by on a summer day and feeling so content. He breathed in the sweet scent of the crushed grass beneath him. It mingled with the scent of the woman next to him.

  He never wanted to leave here, didn’t even want to get up. Right now he would have let the rustlers take the cattle. All that mattered was being here with this woman on this summer day because he knew it couldn’t last.

  Jinx lay beside him, looking up at the expanse of blue sky dotted with big white clouds. There was a small smile on her lips, a softness to her expression that made him smile as well. The breeze ruffled her short blond curls and he felt an ache for her, a longing. There were some women you could never have, not in a way that promised they would always be there. Jinx was one of them.

  “I can’t let you go after the rustlers,” he said, speaking the fear in his heart.

  She turned her head slowly toward him. “Please don’t, Dawson.”

  Dawson. Not Chisholm. He liked the sound of his name on her lips. Hell, he liked her lips on him.

  He pushed himself up on one elbow and laid an arm over her warm stomach. Her soft skin spurred another jolt of desire that burned through him like an out-of-control wildfire. He knew that if he had a lifetime, he would never get enough of this woman, this capable, stubborn, determined woman who didn’t think she needed anyone.

  Well, getting the leader of the rustling ring was one thing he couldn’t let her do alone. “Jinx—”

  She slid out of his hold, picking up her jeans from the ground as she did. Her panties were still inside the jeans. She moved a few feet away and pulled on both before turning back to him.

  He was sitting on the ground, his gaze on her. “You’re still determined to go after him alone, aren’t you?”

  She reached for her Western shirt lying on the ground next to him. He grabbed her wrist, met her gaze, and then slowly let go. “I have to finish what I started.”

  “Let me help you get him,” he said.

  “No.” She shook her head, the look in her eye warning him not to bother arguing with her about this.

  He nodded, chewing at his cheek as he tried to stem his anger. And his hurt. “What about this?” He motioned to the crushed grass, the scent of the two of them still lingering, the memory of the feel of her still fresh on his skin.

  Jinx looked into his eyes and said the only thing she could. “It was a mistake.” She wanted to take back the words the instant they left her lips. She saw the hurt in Dawson’s eyes, but she knew that the one thing she couldn’t risk was this man’s life.

  This was her crazy crusade for justice, a promise she’d made her father as she stood over his casket. She had to do this, but she wouldn’t let Dawson get any more involved than he already was.

  “I’ve come too far to stop now,” she said, the words like gravel in her mouth as Dawson rose and began to dress, his movements hasty with anger. “It’s something I have to do on my own.”

  “You go back to Rafe alone and you’re a dead woman.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she snapped. “This is something I have to do. Alone, because that is the only way I can get near the man behind these rustlers. I thought you knew that.”

  “Knowing it is one thing. Accepting it…” He shook his head.

  “I know how dangerous this is.” Her voice broke. Dawson Chisholm was another danger, one she hadn’t planned on, one she couldn’t regret either. But now she had him to worry about and she was desperate to see that nothing happened to him because of her.

  “I should have ridden out this morning,” she said, pushing her straw hat down over her tangled blond hair.

  “Why didn’t you?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers.

  She could still smell him on her, still feel his phantom touch on her flesh. “I’ll ride with you as far as the next corral. After that, you just concern yourself with your cattle.” She turned and headed for her horse.

  IT TOOK ALL OF HIS STRENGTH not to go after her and pull her into his arms again. But Dawson knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Hell, he’d hog-tie her, whatever he had to do to keep her safe, and she would hate him for it until the day she died.

  One look at her and he realized short of taking her prisoner again, there would be no keeping this woman from doing what she’d set out to do from the beginning.

  Just as he’d felt about the first woman he’d loved.

  The reminder sent an arrow of pain through him. Jinx had nailed it when she’d said there’d been a woman in his life who had been taken from him. Only, Jinx had thought the woman had been taken by another man. He’d lost her nonetheless and he still felt the pain of that loss.

  And now he’d met another headstrong woman who was determined to get herself killed. He rose and quickly dressed.

  As he swung up in his saddle, she said, “I need you to let me finish this, Dawson.”

  “Could I stop you?” He shook his head, furious with himself for letting this woman get to him. And she had. Maybe from the moment he’d tackled her thinking she was one of the rustlers. Maybe in the firelight of the cave. But she’d gotten to him. He thought now how apt her name was.

  “I’ve already tangled with one headstrong woman who wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to her welfare,” he said. “I’m not up to trying to corral another one.”

  Anger flared in her eyes like a blue flame. “I’m not one of your cattle, Chisholm. I don’t need herding—or corralling. I’m my own woman.”

  “You don’t have to
tell me that,” he said. “I get it. And you’re right. This was a mistake.” With that he reined his horse around and rode down to the creek to get his cattle. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He wasn’t letting another dangerous woman get her spurs in him—at least not any deeper than Jinx already had.

  MCCALL REALIZED that telling her husband her plan had been a mistake.

  “I don’t like this,” Luke said. “If you’re right and Aggie Wells is alive and has Emma, then I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous she is.”

  “I’m the sheriff,” she said with exasperation. “Forget for a moment that I’m your wife.”

  “I never forget you’re my wife. And I thank my lucky stars.” He took her shoulders in his big hands and drew her closer. He had stopped by the sheriff’s department on his way to work and now the two of them stood in the middle of her office, the door closed. “I just don’t like you being out there alone without backup.”

  “I’ll have backup on the roads in and out of Chisholm Cattle Company. I’ll radio if I need help, but I think I can handle one woman.”

  “Are you sure that’s all you’re going to have to handle?” he asked. “You’re that sure she’s working alone?”

  The question took her by surprise and it shouldn’t have. If Aggie had abandoned her car out by the highway, had someone picked her up? Or had she already arranged for another vehicle that she simply got in and drove away?

  “Uh-huh,” Luke said. “You’re convinced she has been working alone. What if you’re wrong?”

  “If it turns out she has a small army at her disposal, I will call for backup.” She smiled at her husband. Touched that he was worried about her and a little concerned.

  “How’s your grandmother?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Pepper?” McCall hadn’t seen much of her lately. They’d both been busy. “Last time I talked to her, she and Hunt were settling in nicely. She loves having all her grandchildren on the ranch. They’re building houses all over the place out there. Why are you asking about her?”