Cowboy Justice cc-2

by Melissa Cutler

  She unwound her arm from his neck and propped her back against his. “In the southwest field, Ben and I found an underground meth lab, of all the goddamn things.”

  He craned his neck to look at her. “You’re kidding.”

  “I wish.”

  She could almost hear the wheels turning in his mind. “How was it ventilated?”

  “Swamp coolers disguised in the irrigation flow vents.”

  “How did you discover it?”

  The prospect of answering that question for the hundredth time made her weary. “No offense, but I can tell you’re going into sheriff mode, and let me tell you, I spent the whole day answering questions like that for your deputies and Undersheriff Stratis. I could use the night off. I’m sure Stratis will fill you in tomorrow.”

  “Stratis called me this morning, but I was too wrapped up in getting my parents out of custody to hear what he was saying. I designated him in charge of everything that came in and turned off my phone. I can’t believe the one day I was off the grid, you needed me and I had no idea.” With a groan, he shook his head, and Rachel swore she felt his shoulders hitch another notch toward his ears.

  She did need him, but not in the way he was prepared to help her. More than anything, she needed him to ask her to stay. She needed strong arms around her that wouldn’t let go no matter what. But she wasn’t going to ask. She was done giving her heart over to men.

  She cleared her throat. “There wasn’t anything you could’ve done differently from your deputies. When you didn’t come to investigate along with your men, and then you weren’t at the station house, I assumed it was because”—the truth hurt to think, much less say in a neutral tone of voice—“because you didn’t want to have contact with me.” She registered the strain in her words and, panicking, added, “Which was fine because you have a really great team of people working for you and they did an excellent job. Even Stratis was polite, which was a nice surprise.”

  He cursed under his breath.

  “I can’t tell you what it was like today, learning that my father destroyed my career, my future, and my ability to provide for our family. All these years, I thought our business went under because I wasn’t a good enough farmer. And he let me believe it.”

  “You’re a great farmer.”

  She scoffed. “Not yet, but I’m going to be someday.” Picking her fingernails, she added, “Did I ever tell you how I got into photography?”

  He didn’t answer right away, like it took him a few seconds to make the mental U-turn. “No. I’ve always wondered.”

  “I was seventeen. Riding along the northwest fence line with Cressley, the American Paint horse my dad got me for my tenth birthday. Going through an alfalfa field, I spotted a coyote crouched along the edge. Right there in the heat of the day. I figured he was sick or hurt, but before I could steer Cressley away, it sprang at us. Cressley reared and I fell.”

  Vaughn eased away from her slow enough that she had time to shift her weight. He repositioned on the step so that his back was propped on the railing and he was looking at her. He patted the concrete next to him. “Sit here with me.”

  She settled next to him, their shoulders touching. She fought the surge of affection the gesture evoked, but that proved impossible once he took her hand and cradled it in his.

  “That’s better. Keep going. You fell . . .”

  “I hit the ground hard and face planted in the dirt. I knew right away something in my body had broken, but couldn’t tell what.” The pain had radiated through her, tightening her throat, constricting her chest. It was the moment that marked the first time in her life she’d experienced real fear. The kind of bone-deep, suffocating fear that leaves the soul scarred. The soil had vibrated with the energy of hooves churning over the ground as Cressley fled. Then the world went silent but for the beating of her heart and the rustle of alfalfa in the breeze.

  “What did you do?”

  “I rolled to my back and held my right arm up for inspection. My hand dangled limp. The broken bone had cut through the skin near my wrist.” She spared him the gory details, but she saw them as plain in her mind as she had that day.

  Vaughn sucked a breath in through his teeth and squeezed her hand. “Damn.”

  “I couldn’t stop thinking about what the broken bone meant. I had responsibilities. I didn’t have the luxury to nurse a broken wrist. I was terrified for the future of the farm, and who was going to do the laundry or fix meals or get Amy and Jenna to school.”

  “You were a child, but you were already running the show around there.”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t have a choice. Somebody had to. I sure didn’t know how I was going to manage with my right arm out of commission. Not to mention the coyote was out there, and it wasn’t going to chase Cressley for long, not with a smaller, more helpless creature on the ground. I remember praying, Please don’t let me get bitten by a rabid coyote.”

  “You would’ve died. Out there in the middle of nowhere, in the time before cell phones. Did anybody know where you were, at least?”

  She rested the side of her head on his shoulder. He was so warm, so solid, it was hard not to crawl into his lap. “Not a soul, or so I thought. The longer I lay there, the more my fear subsided. Probably due to the shock I was in. I was at peace with the reality of the situation, you know? I settled into my fate. It was a typical June day, beautiful but hot. I remember looking up at the sky, framed as it was by alfalfa shoots. I remember breathing in their baked grass smell. Used to be my favorite smell in the world.”

  He released her hand to wrap his arm around her, pulling her tight against his side. “Why’s that?”

  Thinking about it made the smell tangible. She inhaled deeply through her nose. “That was the smell of survival for another crop season. It meant we were going to be okay.”

  He drew lazy circles on her arm below her injury. “For me it’s the smell of metal heating in the forge fire of my father’s workshop. Best smell ever.”

  “I don’t know that smell.”

  “Guess I owe you an invitation to dinner at my parents’ house.”

  Her throat constricted. What was she supposed to do with a loaded comment like that? “Does their house smell like a forge fire?”

  He let out a soft laugh that vibrated against her ear. “Pretty much. My dad turned the original garage into a blacksmith workshop before I was born, so yeah, everything from the furniture to the carpet smells like a forge fire.”

  “I’ll bet.” Before he could reiterate his offer or push the issue on dinner, she steered the conversation to neutral territory. “You want me to tell you what my long-winded story has to do with photography?”

  “I was curious, but I didn’t want to rush you.”

  “I was lying on the ground, looking at the sky. It was peaceful. I could make out the peak of Sidewinder Mesa in the distance. A smear of clouds pulled vertically behind it, like taffy, and I wished I’d had a camera.”

  His hand stilled against her arm. “Seriously? Your arm bone was exposed and a possibly rabid coyote was lurking nearby, and you wished you’d brought a camera?”

  She grinned. “Yeah, you’re right. It was an absurd thing to think about, but it’s the truth. Funny how the mind works when it’s in shock. Nevertheless, after that day, I was never without a camera again.” Knowing it would get a reaction out of him, she added, “End of story.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on a minute. That’s not the end of the story. What happened next? Did the coyote come back?”

  She smiled at his indignation. “Yes, it did. It walked right up to me and sniffed my injured arm.”

  Vaughn gave a low whistle.

  “Right when I was sure it was going to start chowing down on me, I felt more vibrations in the ground. Horse hooves. The coyote sensed it too, because it raised its head, listening.” She’d stared, unblinking at it, not breathing. Its chin whiskers were coated in her blood. “A loud whoop sounded. The coyote lit off in a f
lash. Then my dad fell to my side and examined my break, all the while firing questions so fast, I had to interrupt to answer.”

  Bitter grief rocketed through her. That had been one of her favorite memories until today. She’d adored her father in that moment. Worshiped him.

  “How did he know where to find you?”

  “Cressley had run home, and Dad sensed right away something was wrong. I never found out how he knew where to look for me. I was too busy idolizing him.” Had he been cooking drugs even that far back? While she was laid up with her injury, afraid for the farm’s future, was he already actively working to destroy it?

  “You’d been afraid of how the farm would stay running while your arm healed. Did that end up being an issue?”

  “Not as much as I’d feared. Dad stuck close by me for a few weeks. I thought he’d turned over a new leaf.”

  “It didn’t last?”

  “Not much in this world does.” A shiver started at her legs and crawled its way through her body. She pressed her face into his neck as her body trembled.

  He hooked a hand under her knees and pulled her onto his lap.

  She thought about protesting, but it was such a relief to be held tight, to feel loved. “I don’t know how to reconcile what I’ve learned about him with the man I thought I knew. I’d been so wrapped up remembering the times he saved me, I was blind to the lying, cheating criminal he really was. I’m not sure he ever really loved me.”

  He stroked her hair. “Of course he did, and he’s still the man who found you when you were lost and hurt. Nothing can change that. But all this talk about him saving you makes you sound like a damsel in distress, waiting for your knight to ride up and slay the monsters for you. That’s not who you are. All those times your dad failed you, you know what was really going on? You figured out how to slay your own monsters. You learned how to save yourself. It’s one of the things I admire most about you. Someday, after your grief fades, you’ll be able to see it better.”

  Maybe, but she sure didn’t feel strong at the moment. She didn’t want to be. She wanted to stay curled on Vaughn’s lap forever.

  He smoothed a hand along her calf. “Your legs are cold. What are you wearing down here, shorts?”

  “Your underwear.”

  His head lolled and he groaned. “You shouldn’t say stuff like that to me. I might have a heart attack picturing you walking around in my underwear.” His hand crept higher on her thigh until his fingers snuck beneath the hem of the briefs. “I always thought I was a leg man, but I’m starting to think I’m more of an ass man, because I can’t get enough of yours.”

  She grinned. She’d known that about him from the get-go.

  Then he placed a finger on her chin and tilted her head, aiming his lips for hers, and she knew what would happen next. Exactly what she’d promised herself she was done doing.

  She evaded his efforts. “It was two-thirty on the alarm clock when I woke up, which means it must be after three now. That’s not enough time for us to start something new and still allow me to make it home before my workers show up. And I’m sure as hell not going to drive up with them standing there to watch me get out of my truck in the same clothes I wore yesterday.”

  That cheap, filthy feeling bubbled up inside her. She was so sick and tired of sneaking around with him.

  “Let me love on you a few more minutes.”

  She pressed her palms against his chest and scooted away, feeling strong for the first time in too long. “Either ask me to stay through morning or let me go. The choice is yours.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Vaughn’s hands fell away from her. He looked out at the darkness for a long beat before turning to face her once more. “What do you want me to say, Rachel? They took my mom away in handcuffs. I can’t afford to make selfish choices like sleeping in with you or taking a chance that someone would see your truck parked out front come morning. I thought you understood that. You and I agreed to wait until the case is settled. I can’t tell you how frustrated it makes me that it has to be that way, but there it is. I’m sorry.”

  The lack of sting she felt from his words didn’t surprise her. She’d already known what he was going to say. What floored her, instead, was the realization that she’d said almost exactly the same words to him after her mom’s suicide attempt. I can’t afford to make selfish choices.

  What was it with the two of them that they valued their own happiness so little? Whatever it was, Rachel was done with it. Time to start over. Time to focus on herself and being happy. Because, damn it all, Vaughn had been right when he said she was no fainting damsel. No one was going to save her but herself, especially not a man, even if she did love him like crazy.

  She stood, her legs strong and capable. No more trembling. No more weak knees.

  “I know what we agreed to, but I thought maybe things had changed. You don’t owe me an apology. You don’t owe me anything.” She’d spouted that line so often to him it’d become her mantra, but this was the first time she knew in her heart it was true.

  “Of course I do.”

  She straightened the T-shirt and briefs, feeling more powerful with every breath she took. “No, you don’t. All you need to worry about is taking care of your parents and running your investigations. I’m going to go live my life, and see if I can make sense of everything that’s happened. And I’m going to plant a crop of alfalfa this year if it kills me. When the case is settled, you know where to find me.”

  She walked through the kitchen, stripping off his shirt and briefs en route to the front entryway, where her clothes sat in a pile. Vaughn followed. She felt his eyes on her while she dressed, but kept her back to him until she was fully clothed.

  When she faced him, his expression was guarded as he handed her his folded shirt and briefs. “I’d like to imagine you wearing these when you sleep. Would you do that for me?”

  Refusing to engage in a conversation about it, she took them. He set the box of cigarettes on top.

  “I’d forgotten about those,” she said.

  His lips curved into a pained smile. “Believe me, I hadn’t.”

  “Any other smokes you want to send with me before they tempt you?”

  He shook his head. “I already smoked all the rest. That was my last box. You want to borrow a jacket for the drive?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She unlocked the dead bolt and stepped outside, Vaughn behind her. They crossed the street to her truck in silence.

  He held her door while she climbed in and buckled up, then stroked her cheek with his thumb. “You’d never before wanted to stay until morning. If I’d have asked you, would you have?”

  Turning her face into his hand, she smoothed her lips over the inside of his wrist. “Yes. This time I would have.”

  He released her and stepped away, his jaw tight. Looking down the length of the dark street, he nodded, his lips twitching like he was torn about what to do. Maybe he was going to change his mind and invite her to stay after all.

  Then he returned his world-weary gaze to her. “Good night, Rachel.”

  Okay, then. Enough was enough.

  She closed the door, fired up the engine, and rolled down her window. “Good-bye, Vaughn.”

  She felt empowered, saying the words and meaning them. Freer and lighter than she had in years. She wasn’t a failure as a farmer. She wasn’t to blame for her mom’s death. And, for the first time in sixteen months, she didn’t feel like her happiness hinged on Vaughn. She’d hit rock bottom this week, sure, but that only meant there was nowhere for her to go but up.

  The drive home was uneventful. One lonely road after another. Her headlights picked up a coyote dashing across the road into the bushes near the turn from the highway, and another time, her truck’s radio started playing Glen Campbell’s “Rhinestone Cowboy.” Less painful than “Southern Nights,” but she still couldn’t stand to listen to it. Other than that, she made it to the dirt road into their property without incident.

/>   An unfamiliar black sedan was parked on the south side of her house. She didn’t see it until she was right up on it, given the blackness of the night. Who knew which new misfit or lost soul Amy had invited to stay? They were already housing Tina, Sloane, and Ben. More and more, Mr. Dixon or Kellan stayed over too. The last time Rachel went to Tucumcari to have new keys made, the man at the hardware store had joked about giving her a bulk discount.

  She pulled into her usual spot in front of the porch, grabbed Vaughn’s clothes and cigarettes, and stepped outside, stretching her back. She had an hour until Rudy, Damon, and Ben showed up for work. Plenty of time for a shower and a cup of coffee. The coffee might get her through morning chores, but given how little sleep she’d gotten, there wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to keep her energized until the end of the day.

  Movement to her right made her turn.

  A man in dark clothes flew at her, hitting her to the ground, the air knocked clean out of her lungs. He backhanded her across the cheek, and she was too stunned and hurt to react. He was so strong, crushing her with his body. She pedaled her boots against the gravel, but couldn’t break free. He wound back to hit her again, so she flailed her hand, smacking his face with her ring of keys.

  He grunted, like maybe she hurt him, so she swung again and he grabbed her arm. But his weight had shifted enough so that she was able to push her boot against the ground and roll him off her. Scrambling to her feet, she sucked in her first real breath of air and screamed. Less than ten yards away was a house full of people. If she was going to go down, she at least needed to warn her family of the danger.

  The man lunged at her again and she tripped back, running for Ben’s truck across the yard. Desperate for a weapon, she had the driver door open when the man slammed into her back. He knocked her head against the side of the truck. She elbowed him, catching him in the soft part of his belly. Her movements were imprecise and unskilled, but got the job done.

  She pulled herself away from the attacker by sheer will and flung her upper body onto the floor of the cab. Ben’s rifle was easy to find under the seat. The ammo sat behind it in a box. She grabbed some, but didn’t have time to load. So she pivoted, swinging the rifle around like a club.