Colton Cowboy Protector

by Beth Cornelison

  “Damn it, Jack!” Brett interrupted. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

  He ignored him and continued, “What’s more, I don’t want to dilute the focus of the ranch from our tried-and-true business model. Big J entrusted me with the running of the ranch, and I take that responsibility seriously.”

  “Tell me about it,” his brother grumbled, looking away.

  “What’s that mean?”

  Brett squared his shoulders and turned fully to face Jack. “It means you used to be willing to take risks. You rode the wildest bulls at competition and took gambles in business most people wouldn’t have the guts for. You weren’t afraid to lose a few dollars in pursuit of a high-dollar payout.”

  “That’s different. I was risking my own money, not the ranch’s.”

  “You worked hard, drank hard and rode hard,” his brother continued, getting more worked up. “You weren’t afraid to try something new. What’s happened to you?”

  Jack huffed a quiet laugh and shook his head. “You know what happened. I became a father. I had to settle down to raise my son, especially after Laura walked out on us.”

  Brett looked unconvinced.

  “And I took the reins as manager. That means something to me. I won’t let Big J down by screwing up his legacy or running the ranch into the ground.”

  Brett shook his head, giving Jack a narrow-eyed look. “Naw. I don’t buy it. The change in you is more than a factor of new responsibility. Your spark is gone, man. You just don’t seem...happy anymore.”

  “I’m plenty happy, Oprah. I have a good life and a great kid.” He waved off that conversation. “What does this have to do with Daniel and the breeding program?”

  Brett blew out a long breath, making his lips buzz. “Nothing, I guess. Only that ten years ago you would have been all over this horse-breeding venture. I know you would have.”

  “Maybe so. But that was then, and this is now. I hope I’ve made my point. I’m really not interested in debating this again.”

  Brett continued staring at him speculatively. “It’s Laura, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “That’s when the big change happened. Not when you became manager or when Seth was born. You changed when Laura left.”

  Jack swiped a hand down his face as he groaned. “Don’t you have something better to do than psychoanalyze me?”

  “Why don’t you date?”

  Jack jerked his head up, sputtering a laugh. “What?”

  “When’s the last time you slept with a woman or so much as had a dinner date?”

  Stomping down the last few steps, he crossed the foyer and yanked the front door open. “Goodbye, Brett.”

  “I know she hurt you, but you gotta stop living in the past, man.”

  He gritted his back teeth and gave Brett a warning glare. His history with Laura, and especially their divorce, was his absolute least favorite topic.

  “I could fix you up with someone if you want,” Brett said, undaunted by his brother’s glower. “Or...hey, that Tracy McCain’s a hot little number. I’ve seen the way she watches you. I think she’s into you, bro.”

  The air in Jack’s lungs stilled briefly, and a ripple of heat streaked through his veins. He’d been trying hard all morning to keep visions of Tracy’s sleek legs, her wide blue eyes and her bowed lips out of his head. “I don’t need dating advice, Brett.”

  His tone was darker than he intended, but the coil of lust that tightened inside him every time he thought about Tracy made him grumpy. Maybe he did need a night of no-strings sex with someone, just to work off the tension pounding through his blood. But not Tracy. Anyone but Tracy. He would not, could not get involved with Laura’s cousin, of all people. For cripes’ sake!

  “Speaking of the lovely Miss Tracy...” Brett flashed a simpering grin. “I saw her head out toward the bull pasture about an hour ago with Seth.”

  Jack stiffened. “What?”

  He’d told her she wasn’t allowed to be alone with Seth. And what was Seth doing, taking off somewhere without telling him? The heat of anger filled him and kicked his pulse up.

  “You ought to head out there and spend a little quality time with her,” Brett suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows.

  “Oh, I’m going out there after them, all right,” he said with a growl as he reached past his brother to retrieve his Stetson from the hat rack by the door. “If you’ll excuse me...” He pushed his brother out the door as he exited. “I have to go collect my son and have a word with Miss McCain.”

  “Will you at least think about underwriting Daniel’s horse breeding program?” Brett called after him.

  “No!” Jack stomped down the porch steps and set off at a jog. “The subject is closed!”

  * * *

  I told Seth his mother died shortly after he was born. That’s the story you need to stick to. Telling him anything else will only hurt him. It will lead to questions about where she’s been, why she left...

  Tracy dug her fingernails into her palms as she gazed at Seth’s expectant face, and she swallowed hard. She searched for truths she could tell the boy that wouldn’t violate her agreement with Jack. “Well...she was my cousin, and even though we were estranged for a number of years—”

  Seth’s head tilted, and his nose wrinkled.

  Before he could ask, she said, “Estranged means we didn’t get to see each other or talk to each other.”

  “Why not?”

  She balled her hands tighter. Because my husband was a selfish, controlling bastard.

  “Because...we, uh, both got busy with our lives and, uh, well...”

  “Ms. Tracy?”

  She stroked his hair, thankful for the reprieve from that question. “Yes, sweetie.”

  “I hope we don’t get stranged.”

  Her insides turned to goo, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his sweaty head. “I hope not, too.”

  He picked at his tennis shoe again and murmured, “How did she die?”

  Visions of shattered glass, crumpled metal and a tumbling landscape flashed in Tracy’s mind’s eye. She heard screams—Laura’s and her own—smelled the leaking gas, tasted the tang of blood, felt again the pain that had streaked through her. And she remembered Laura’s lifeless eyes, the wrenching realization that her cousin was dead.

  Tracy drew and released a deep, cleansing breath. “She died in a car accident, sweetie.”

  Seth blinked and frowned as he scratched his arm. “Oh.”

  Tracy covered his hand with hers and squeezed. “Seth, the most important thing you need to know about your mom is that she loved you.”

  He raised a wide-eyed look to her as if this was news to him.

  Tracy sighed with disgust. Of course it was news to him. Jack wouldn’t have told him that, and obviously, none of the gifts or messages Laura had sent to her son had been delivered.

  Tracy cupped his chin in her hand and met his bright blue eyes evenly. “Your mother always wanted the best for you. She sometimes made bad choices, but her choices never changed the way she loved you. You were very important to her, and she was so very proud to be your mommy.”

  His eyes filled with tears, and Tracy pulled him close for a hug.

  “I wish I knewed her,” he said, his voice muffled against her shoulder.

  She fought down the spike of pique toward Jack that swelled inside her. It served no purpose for her to hold a grudge against him for the past. Instead, she kissed Seth’s head again and patted his back. “I wish you had known her, too.”

  Pulling out of her embrace, Seth swiped his arm over his eyes and nose and rose to his feet. “So, um, do you wanna see the fishing pond now?”

  She knuckled away a tear from her own eye and flashed a smile. “Lead on, good sir!”

  After fumbling down the ladder, a task that gave her a scraped knee and a splinter for her trouble, she followed Seth back through the wooded area. Once again, he set a brisk pace that forced her to jog to keep up.
As she batted limbs out of her way, she kept an eye out for spiderwebs and snakes, certain such creepy crawlies were about somewhere.

  A short distance later, they reached a stream, gurgling slowly toward a small pond before continuing its journey through a lower pasture. As they stumbled to a stop, Seth laughing while she wheezed and fought for a breath, she noticed hoofprints in the mud along the bank of the stream. “Is this...part of another...pasture?”

  “Yep. The cows like to drink here. See? There’s one.”

  She turned her gaze the direction he pointed and found a rather stern-looking bull glaring at them. “Oh. Uh, that’s a bull, not a cow. He doesn’t look too happy to see us. Maybe we should move on?”

  She took Seth’s hand, and they started down the stream. Tracy picked her way carefully across rocks, trying to avoid the muck, and Seth traipsed contentedly through the shallow water, getting his shoes wet and muddy. Hearing a rustling noise in the trees near them, Tracy paused and glanced toward the trees. Two more bulls wandered in the shade of the wooded area, flicking their tails. Her heart kicked. Hoo-boy.

  Distracted by the bulls, she stumbled a bit over a rock, and Seth squeezed her hand. “Careful, Miss Tracy. Don’t hurt yourself. You’re too heavy for me to carry home if you fall.”

  She snorted a chuckle, amused by his childlike bluntness. “So now I’m old and fat?”

  He giggled. “Not fat. Just big like a grown-up.”

  “Okay.” She ruffled his hair and had it on the tip of her tongue to ask him about his favorite TV shows when she spotted another impression in the mud. A footprint—man-sized.

  “We shoulda brought fishin’ poles with us. Have you ever been fishin’, Ms. Tracy?”

  “Nope. I’m a city girl. Remember?”

  “Gol-ly!” Seth dragged the word out in dismay. “Never? In your whole life?”

  Tracy grinned at the emphasis he put behind the question, as if she was ancient and the omission from her life was nothing short of tragic. “Not that I recall. But I—”

  A loud cracking sound cut her off. She was hyperaware of the bulls around them and paused to look for the source of the sound. Though it wasn’t quite right to be a limb breaking under a bull’s hoof, the noise was definitely out of place and sent a tingle up her spine. If a bull charged them, what would she do? Where would they go?

  Seth hadn’t waited for her when she’d stopped to listen, and now she hurried over the creek bank to catch up to him. “Wait for me, Seth. I—”

  She gasped as her foot slipped on the wet, mossy rocks, and she went down. In the same instant, a loud, echoing bang shattered the calm. The gravel just past her hand scattered like shrapnel. For a stunned second, she simply stared at the spot where a large shiny rifle bullet gleamed in the sun.

  “Miss Tracy! Are you okay?” Seth’s frightened voice reached her through her shock as he scurried back to her. “That was a gunshot! And it was close!”

  She shook herself from her momentary stupor, now fueled by adrenaline. By panic.

  She reached for him, needing to feel him close to her, assure herself he was safe. “Yeah, I—”

  Another cracking sound rode the wind, and she knew immediately what it was. A rifle cocking.

  “Seth!” She grabbed his shirtfront and jerked him to her. Just as she threw them both down in the mud, another blast rang out. She screamed. Seth hollered. A bull bellowed and ran away, hooves thundering.

  This time, Tracy didn’t squander any time on shock and disbelief. The simple truth blared in her brain. Someone was shooting at them. On purpose. Someone was trying to kill them.

  * * *

  Jack trudged through the bull pasture, headed toward the pond where Seth liked to fish, fuming to himself about Tracy’s defiance, Seth’s disobedience and Brett’s continued challenge to his business decision. He wasn’t against making money. He wasn’t against breeding horses at the Lucky C. He just didn’t want to force Daniel’s hand or guilt him into staying at the ranch if he felt a calling to go elsewhere. If Daniel came to him and said he wanted—

  The blast of a rifle brought Jack’s head up. The nearly simultaneous scream sent a chill to his bones and jacked his heart rate into overdrive. A fist of panic squeezing his throat, he spun to race in the direction the scream had originated.

  “Miss Tracy!” he heard Seth shout.

  “Run, Seth!” she answered, her voice taut with fear.

  Another gunshot rent the air, reverberating in Jack’s chest.

  Tracy yelped. “Seth! Hurry!”

  Horror punched Jack’s gut as a frightening realization dawned. The shots were being fired at Tracy. At his son. Jack darted into the line of trees, scanning the area, desperately searching for Seth. His hand went to his hip, where he found only his cell phone. He thought of the handgun back at his house, cursed the fact he didn’t have it with him. He glanced at his phone as he ran through the maze of trees and underbrush, thumbing the speed dial for Brett’s cell.

  Another shot was fired. He heard the terrified whimper of his son.

  Brett answered his phone, and as he sped toward the creek, Jack panted, “Shots fired...bull pasture...call cops...bring my gun.”

  Chapter 10

  Tracy seized Seth’s hand as she scrambled for cover. Her feet slipped on the slick creek stones, and her ankle wrenched to an awkward angle. She ignored the bolt of pain in her shin. Her only thought was of protecting Seth. Finding shelter. Getting them to safety.

  “Run!” She towed the boy behind her as she stumbled toward the trees. His frightened whimpers broke her heart, but they had no time for comfort. Her brain clicked in fast-forward, trying to find the best plan of retreat, the safest place to hide. A ditch? A tree? She discarded these ideas in rapid succession, even as she squeezed Seth’s hand and clambered up a muddy bank and into the trees. Another shot whizzed past them, so close she felt the heat of the bullet just before it splintered the bark of a tree beside her.

  Another scream slipped from her throat, and she dropped to the leaf-strewn ground, dragging Seth with her as she scuttled behind the tree.

  “Miss Tracy, I’m scared!” Seth whispered, his voice shaking as much as her hands were.

  “I know, sweetie. Me, too. But we’re gonna be fine.” She prayed she was right about that.

  Groping in her pocket, she felt for her cell phone. Could she get a signal out here to call 911? Or should she call Jack? He was closer.

  But her pocket was empty. She’d lost her phone somewhere when she fell or as they’d scrambled for cover.

  As she gulped in air, her gaze searched the thin line of woods that bordered the pasture. If only they were nearer to the outbuildings or an old shack or... Her breath caught. “Your tree house!”

  “Huh?”

  “Come on, Seth. We gotta get to your tree house. It’s the only shelter we have out here.”

  His eyes were round with fear, but he gave her a trusting nod. Shoving herself to her feet, she led him at a sprint through the tangled weeds and branches. Thorns clawed at her, limbs slapped her cheeks and her injured ankle throbbed. But she plowed on, determined to get Seth to the relative safety of his fort.

  She could hear the rustle and snap of foliage behind them as their assailant pursued them. Another gunshot fired and another. She tried to weave as she ran, making herself and Seth harder targets to hit. Finally, they skidded to a stop at the base of the homemade ladder. She lifted him up the first several rungs, strengthened by the rush of adrenaline coursing through her. “Go!” she rasped. “I’m...right behind you!”

  Seth scrambled up, and she placed her feet on the first rung. Her legs shook, her hands trembled and her heart beat so hard she could barely catch her breath. In her haste, her feet fumbled once, making her slide back down a rung and sending a fresh wave of pain through her twisted ankle.

  Another blast of gunfire accompanied something hot searing her back near her shoulder. She cried out, frightened more than hurt. She knew she’d been hit, knew th
e next bullet could hit home, knew her next breath could be her last.

  “Miss Tracy!”

  “Seth, stay down!” She shook off the buzzing in her ears and put one hand, one foot after the other. Climbing. Hurrying. Praying.

  As she reached the floor of the tree house, she rolled away from the ladder, hunkering low and away from the wall nearest the assassin. Seth clutched at her, hugging her and crying. She pulled his head to her chest and kissed his hair as she panted for oxygen. “It’s okay. We’re...safe.”

  A bullet pinged as it hit the corrugated metal and cracked the plywood. The walls of the little tree house would protect them only for a short while. They needed help. Rescue.

  Jack.

  * * *

  Weaving through the underbrush at full speed, Jack spotted the flash of a muzzle. He skidded to a stop and used a tree for protection as he narrowed his sights on the area where he’d seen the flare of light. Approximately fifty yards ahead, he made out the hulking form of the shooter, a lever-action rifle lifted, and his attention focused on his target. Jack’s mouth dried as he spotted Tracy at the foot of the ladder to Seth’s tree house. He drew a deep breath to shout a warning to her but stopped it in his throat. Rather than draw attention to himself or distract Tracy in her escape, he needed to concentrate on the man with the rifle. He had to take the bastard down.

  Moving with the stealth and silence he’d learned through years of hunting, years of hiding from his younger brothers, years of exploring these very woods, Jack crept closer to the gunman. He edged one careful step at a time, moving from tree to tree, avoiding anything in his path that would give his presence away. His footfalls were quiet, but the thump of his own heartbeat in his ears sounded loud enough to wake the dead. Holding his breath, Jack slipped to the last bit of cover he’d have before making his move on the shooter.

  And, as if sensing Jack’s approach, the gunman whirled around. Jack lunged. He shoved the barrel of the rifle up with his left hand, even as he swung at the man’s jaw with his right fist.