by Jillian Hart
“Autumn?” A satin-smooth alto startled her from her thoughts. Cady wove her way through the crowd and into sight. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” And it was true. She let Cady slip an arm around her in a quick friendly hug. She’d had to cancel their riding lesson last week. Funny how accustomed she’d gotten to seeing Cady so often. “How is the new designer working out?”
“Better than I could have expected, especially since she has to drive out from Jackson every morning.” Cady lit up. She clearly loved her work with the inn. Her gentle green eyes glittered like emeralds, and her delicate features softened in the most luminous way. She swept a lock of brown hair behind her ear. “We’re actually ahead of schedule. The rooms are taking shape. It’s starting to look homey.”
“And thoroughly classy, I’m sure.” Knowing Cady’s understated elegance, her inn would be a breathtaking place of comfort and beauty. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“I’m taking up the suggestion of having an open house. You and your family are on the guest list.” Cady grew serious. “How is Tucker?”
“The doctors say he’ll fully recover to return to rodeo riding and be trampled by a horse again,” she quipped. “Well, they didn’t say that exactly. It was—”
“—your dad,” Cady finished, growing faintly pink. “It sounds like him.”
“Yep, that’s my dad, the comedian.” She missed him. And if there was another man whose presence she was missing, she did not have to think about it. Where had Addy gone? She couldn’t spot her sister anywhere.
“I’ll keep my prayers coming,” Cady promised. “If there’s anything you need, or if you need to talk, call me. Got it?”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” She squeezed Cady’s hand and she felt instantly as if the shadows inside her were not as bleak. It had been a long time since she had longed for her mother or anyone in that role she could look up to. It felt good to know Cady’s friendship was there. “I’ll see you at the Christmas Eve service?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” The older woman tilted her head, as if listening. “Oh, Martha is calling me. I’m supposed to be helping Arlene. Take care.”
“You, too.” Alone again in the crowd, Autumn headed for the door. Knowing Ford was in the next room made little stabs of regret lodge in her midsection. She wished she could take back what she’d said, but she couldn’t. And it wasn’t even true, she realized. Her emotions were tangled up so thoroughly it was hard to tell exactly what she felt. Just because she wasn’t ready to leap without looking didn’t mean she hadn’t come to care about Ford.
Even if she didn’t want to care about him.
She waved goodbye when Doris called out to her and stepped onto the shadowed sidewalk. It felt colder here alone, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, holding her parka closed. Her breath rose in great clouds, and she tried to block out the realization she’d come to.
She wished she could get a do-over for that one moment in time. She would go back and erase those words that had hurt Ford. She didn’t want to let another man disappoint her and try to change her. So why did she want to fix things with him? Why weren’t her feelings listening to her head?
She plucked her key ring from her pocket and sorted through it for the truck key. A movement across the street caught her attention—a familiar Jeep. Ford’s rig had moved and was now angled in front of an old Ford Falcon, elderly Mrs. Tipple’s car. The Falcon’s hood was up. It looked like she had engine problems, the poor lady.
Quick, get in the truck. Get off the street. But her feet weren’t obeying. She stood rooted to the sidewalk as Ford strode into sight. Her brain cells screeched to a halt. Her nerve cells lost their ability to fire. Her entire attention was riveted to him as he lowered the Falcon’s hood.
“There you go, Mrs. Tipple. I’ve got you running again.” Had he always seemed that strong and sounded as kind? “You drive straight home, and if you have to stop, don’t turn off your engine. I’ll give your son a call and let him know to get that battery changed.”
“I don’t know how to thank you.” Frail Mrs. Tipple leaned out of her rolled-down window. Her silver curls framed her adorably wreathed face. Even at Autumn’s distance it was plain to see her gratitude. “You’re a good man, Sheriff Sherman.”
“It’s my pleasure to help, ma’am.” Ford tipped his hat like a cowboy of old.
Her heart tumbled and fell helplessly. Ford had accused her of not seeing the man he was. He’d been right. Why could she see him clearly now? She tried to shuffle her feet forward, but her neurons continued to misfire. You know what the problem is, Autumn Granger. You’ve destroyed any chance with him, and so the fear is gone.
Fear had clouded her vision. It had kept her from seeing what was right in front of her. Regret wrapped around her like the cold night air. She’d always thought of herself as fearless. In her life she’d chased off cougars hunting Granger cattle, she’d faced armed cattle rustlers and wouldn’t hesitate to put herself in danger to protect anyone she loved. But when it came to opening her heart, she’d failed.
The back of her neck prickled. She realized Mrs. Tipple had driven off while she’d been lost in revelation, and Ford had spotted her. He didn’t move a muscle. Just towered like he was made of granite, staring but not speaking. The street separating them felt like an impossible rift to cross.
It’s too late, a voice in the back of her head told her. She’d taken the safe path and look where it had led her, right back where she started. Alone.
“Autumn?” Addy clattered onto the sidewalk, her purchases and Christmas candy in hand. “There you are! I scored some great stuff and some candy canes, too. They had a whole lot left over. I got you some.”
“Th-thanks.” The word came out scratchy and raw. Across the street Ford turned his back, a deliberate act. The temperature suddenly felt colder.
“There’s Ford. Hi, Sheriff!” Addy called across the street, perpetual motion and merriment. Across the street Ford lifted a hand in response, but he didn’t turn around. The unyielding plane of his back said it all.
The keys slipped from her wooden fingers and crashed to the concrete. She knelt to grab them, hating that it took time away from her escape. She yanked open the door and dropped into her seat. Behind the barriers of the glass and the steering wheel, she felt somewhat shielded.
“So, has he asked you out on a date yet?” Addy yanked her belt and buckled it. “Inquiring minds want to know.”
“I haven’t said yes.” That was the truth. She doubted she would get another chance. She plugged the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life.
“You should go out with him.” Addy tore into her sack and plucked out two peppermint hard candies. She handed one over. “He’s a lot like Dad, don’t you think? He’s got that strong, kind, honorable thing going on.”
“He does.” It had taken her forever to see it. She checked for traffic before pulling onto the street. Now that she believed him, Ford no longer wanted her.
It took all her willpower not to glance in the rearview mirror for one last sight of him as she drove away.
He’d never known pain as deep as the hit he took every time he saw Autumn. Ford stumbled in the dark of his bedroom, yanked on a thermal shirt and rummaged for his warmest sweatshirt. He did his best to ignore the fact that he’d come close to crossing the street earlier in the evening just to talk to her.
You are a man who doesn’t know when to quit, Sherman. He pulled on a second pair of wool socks and padded down the hall. His parents were in the second bedroom, and he didn’t want to wake them. They’d flown in today and had loved everything about the area. It felt good to have them here. Mom was already making noises about buying a Christmas tree and hunting down all shopping prospects in the area. He saw a trip to Jackson in his future, which would be fun. Maybe they would take a family ski trip to the resort and make it an event.
“What’s up?” A sleepy voic
e slurred in the dark living room.
“Nothing.” Ford sat down to drag on his hiking boots. “Go back to sleep.”
“You goin’ to the Grangers’?” Shay sat up on the couch, which he’d been relegated to since there wasn’t a third bedroom in the house. He rubbed his eyes. “I could come.”
“Forget it. I need someone who can stay awake.” He grabbed his coat from the small closet by the door. “I didn’t know it was physically possible for you to open your eyes this early in the morning.”
“What time is it?”
“A little after one.” He shrugged into the garment.
“Boy, you must sure like her.”
That was putting it mildly. He zipped up and went in search of his hat and gloves. He found them along with his keys. He didn’t know if he was stubborn or just plain dumb, but Autumn was shorthanded and he’d sworn to pitch in. His brother emitted a loud, long yawn and dropped back into his pillows. Ford wished he could do the same. He opened the door and stepped into the cruel cold. A few quick steps took him across the porch and onto the walkway. Since he’d given his folks the carport for their rental car, he had ice to scrape off his windshields before he could get on his way.
He hit the remote to unlock the doors, and that’s when he noticed the flat tire in the front. Strange. The tires were brand-new, right along with the vehicle. He squinted through the dark at the rear tires, but he already knew what he would find. Slashed, just like before. He thought of the aerial maps he’d been studying on all of Wyoming and the reports of other incidences in three states, all using a helicopter and cattle trucks on section lines. Only big ranches were hit in all cases. The rustlers were methodical, careful in their research and smart in their execution. They didn’t have qualms about shooting first. And they were back.
That meant Autumn was out there alone. The only other help she had were the two other ranch hands in the line shacks over a mile away in either direction. They were stretched pretty thin. Fear licked through him, threatening to turn into panic. He fought it and glanced around. The cows in the field drowsed, motionless humps in the darkness. This was the problem with having cattle for neighbors. He glanced in the direction of the garage—the Plums. He turned on his heel and, running all-out, fished out his phone and dialed.
No answer. Autumn’s cell went to voice mail. Frustrated, he ground out a message. “Someone cut my tires tonight. Looks like the same kind of knife the rustlers used on your family’s rigs. Keep an eye out. They are going to hit tonight.”
He shot into the house, fighting a bad feeling in his gut. Was Autumn all right? Did his warning come too late?
Please God, let her just be screening her calls. Please.
“Get up, Shay. Pull on some pants. Quick.” He flipped on the kitchen light and punched in the phone number Velma had written down for him. The Plums were good neighbors. He was about to find out exactly how good.
Chapter Sixteen
With no moon to see by and no moon to guide her, the night felt ominous and potent as it did before a powerful storm hit. She’d been unsettled enough so that she’d taken Aggie out on another sweep of the field. Louis in the northeast line shack had called to report the Angus herd was restless. Probably nothing more than a cougar nearby, but he had a bad feeling.
She had one, too. The Herefords had been asleep thirty minutes ago and were now on their feet, milling around. The bull scented the wind, his head up and ears alert.
“Hey, Clancy.” She dismounted and held out her gloved hands. The bovine ambled up to her and burrowed his face into her abdomen. He was a gentle giant, a calf she and Dad had bought at auction and raised from a bottle together. She’d tumbled instantly in love with the snuggly little baby with the big doe eyes. She could still hear her father’s rumbling laughter as they taught the calf to drink from a bottle. That had taken a few tries because the little guy would butt the bottle with all his might and it would fly out of her hands and land anywhere—in the next pen or in the aisle. It even bonked Dad in the head.
She missed her father. She was used to turning to him for guidance or help. He was a consummate rancher, and she still had much to learn. If he were here, she wouldn’t feel quite as alone. The night stretched out endlessly in a pitch-black void, and she didn’t know if it was her instincts warning her or her own fears troubling her. No one could read cattle like Frank Granger, but she’d picked up a thing or two from him. It was her turn to be in charge, her responsibility to make the right decisions for the animals who trusted her.
She thumbed her phone from her pocket. Clancy squinted at it curiously as she glanced at the screen. The LCD came to life. Excited by the glowing gadget, his tongue shot out, and he tried to steal it from her.
“Sorry, buddy.” She rubbed his cheek, but he stomped his front hoof, perplexed by why she would not share. She gave him a treat from her pocket instead and he chewed happily, jowls working, but his ears remained up and alert.
She frowned at the screen, ignored the new message icon from Ford and dialed the house. Thick silence had settled across the land. Not one owl hooted. Not one coyote howled in the hills.
“’lo?” Addy answered on the fourth ring. “Autumn?”
“I want you to make some calls for me.” She watched as Clancy twisted to face the Kents’ property, miles away. “Call in the rest of the hands. They are officially on night shift pronto. Louis, Scotty and I are out here all alone.”
“Will do!” Addy slammed down the phone.
“What do you think, Clancy?” She laid her hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch, as if needing her comfort. She stared down at the screen and winced. Should she listen to Ford’s message? He was canceling out on his shift tonight. Why else would he be calling at one in the morning? Disappointment hit her. She’d pushed him away. She couldn’t fault him, but it hurt. Seeing him earlier on the street with his back to her, a cold unbreachable wall, hurt, too.
A feeling deep down urged her to listen to the message, but could she put herself through hearing his voice? Of thinking about what might have been if only she’d had more courage?
One of the cows began to moo, and the others joined in. That was definitely not right. She scrolled through her electronic address book and hit the number for the Kents. No answer. The bad feeling multiplied in her stomach. She went to dial the Parnells when Aggie gave a nervous nicker.
“You hear something, girl?”
The mare stood at alert, too, as if waiting for her to mount up, so she did. Time to check the fences again. As long as they weren’t cut, the animals weren’t going anywhere. She wheeled Aggie toward the line when Clancy charged in front of her, head down like a rodeo bull on a rampage. The shot rang out before she could react. Clancy kept charging into the dark, Aggie kept cantering and she was still in her saddle, so the bullet had to have missed.
She pulled the Winchester from the saddle holster and hit the safety. Her arm was strangely shaky as she aimed. Adrenaline coursed through her until she didn’t feel the biting cold on her face. Time slowed as she looked through the scope trying to trace the line of fire back up the hill. A sniper was up there, and she had to find him before he fired again. Frantic, she searched the inky shadows. Nothing.
A little help, please, Lord. She saw the flash before gunfire rang out. Aggie’s rocking gait, the dull heaviness in her arm and the knowledge that she was alone against armed men fell away into nothingness. She sighted, exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked hard against her shoulder.
That she felt. It radiated down her arm, up her neck and through her ribs in one great crash of pain. Funny how firing the rifle had never felt like that before. The Winchester was a big firearm, but it had never felt like a hundred-pound lead weight. Her arm buckled, and the rifle came to a rest across her lap. Something warm and wet was spreading along her shirt. When she looked down there was a dark, coin-shaped stain on her parka.
She’d been shot. Nausea gripped her stomach. Her head went
fuzzy and woozy. Tiny tremors rolled through her. Not exactly convenient at the moment, because she could see Clancy disappearing into the darkness. She heard a thud as he ran into something or someone and realized another sound had replaced the cattle’s mooing. A helicopter banked, coming in to drive the five hundred head of cattle out of their field.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” She dropped Aggie’s reins, shifted the rifle to her left shoulder and squinted through the scope.
The beat of the blades grew deafening as the helicopter bellied over her, dipping low to take a position closer to the ground. If she took out the rotor the way Dad had, she could bring them down. The tip of the rifle kept bobbing. Her right hand trembled. She had to keep it steady.
Concentrate. She dug deeper for a reserve of strength. Gunfire popped, bullets whizzed and chunks of dirt flew. She blocked out her fears, the Winchester steadied and the safety lights near the blades slid into the crosshairs. She squeezed the trigger, and the gun’s kick knocked her out of the saddle. She fell. The ground came at her hard. She hit, bleeding again from another bullet, and she couldn’t seem to breathe.
Defenseless, she watched the helicopter swing low and close in. The gunman kneeling at the open door took aim. She was exposed, an easy target. A single shot rang out.
Ford. Her thoughts arrowed straight to him. She longed for him so intensely she actually could see him hovering over her, a perfect dream. One last desperate wish. Ford, the one man she needed. Love for him filled her and brimmed over. Too late now to change what had happened between them. Overhead the helicopter sputtered, which was strange since she’d only winged it, and smoke rose against the velvet sky.
The dream in front of her moved and dropped to his knees at her side. “Autumn? Can you hear me?”
Maybe he wasn’t a figment of her imagination. He was here. He’d come just like he’d promised. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She felt cold and oddly weightless. Air rasped in her throat. She couldn’t seem to breathe in it or out. Scary, but his hand curled around hers, holding on tight and giving her strength.