The Gentrys: Cinco

by Linda Conrad

  Cinco grinned at her and removed his hands from her shoulders. "All right, darlin'. If you can't trust me to protect you, then let's go get you armed."

  "Really?" she said with a little too much enthusiasm.

  His eyes got a bruised look in them and she backed up some. "I mean, I do trust you, Cinco. More than anyone I've ever known. But … I just can't be so needy." She'd botched this whole thing somehow. "Please understand," she begged.

  "Oh, I do understand, sugar," he drawled. "Perfectly."

  An hour later Meredith and Abby walked toward the show barn in the crisp late afternoon with a deputy sheriff two strides in front of them, rifle at the ready. Another deputy, twenty feet behind, stayed in contact over a radio with his superior and the others stationed in various spots out of view.

  Meredith thought the whole thing was definitely a case of overkill. That said, she also felt exceedingly grateful for the .38 special tucked in the waistband at her back. Cinco had really made her feel safe by providing the means to protect herself. Bless him.

  "This ranch is huge, isn't it?" she asked Abby.

  Looking around at the light snowflakes beginning to fall, Meredith thought about how many men it might take to canvass the entire ranch. Would they be able to cover all of the ground in one day … or two?

  Abby seemed more than ready to tell her all about the homestead. "The Gentry Ranch is roughly 280 sections, um, that's about 180,000 acres. It takes twenty adult men to accomplish everything that needs to be done … not counting the cooks, housekeepers, pilots or vets."

  "Where does everyone live?" Meredith wanted to know.

  "Well, let's see," Abby began. "We have three bunk-houses that can hold six men each. Then there's also about six cottages scattered 'round the nearby area. Uh, in the late summer when we move the herds out to different pastures, a few hands move onto the range and into one of four line camps. The closest one of those is twenty-five miles from the main ranch complex."

  "Twenty-five miles away?" Meredith was nearly speechless. The Gentry Ranch was more than huge, it was massive.

  Abby nodded absently. "Uh-huh. We have over three thousand head of cattle, about twelve thousand sheep and close to a thousand Angora goats." She screwed up her face in concentration. "Oh, and at least two hundred horses that help us do the work."

  Now Meredith really became intrigued. The ranch was fascinating—and so were the people who lived here. She could scarcely believe that Cinco ran something on such a grand scale. Air Force generals didn't always command as much. And to think he'd taken charge of it all at the age of nineteen.

  Amazingly, she was starting to like it here way too much … along with the complicated and enticing man who ran the place.

  Cinco's phone jangled inside his coat pocket. He slowed his mare and answered it. He'd been headed out to one of the pastures with one of the Texas Rangers' tracking experts. For the last half hour they'd pushed through snow flurries and slush, looking for any sign of a stranger's presence.

  Sheriff Alvarez's tense hello captured Cinco's attention immediately.

  "I've got good news and bad, Gentry," the sheriff said. "Your partner Kyle Sullivan just phoned. Seems the border patrol just apprehended that Rourke fellow … trying to cross from upper Michigan into Canada."

  "Canada?" Cinco asked. He was shocked and wanted to make sure he'd heard correctly.

  "That's right. It don't look like your suspect was ever in Texas, let alone on the Gentry Ranch."

  Sheriff Alvarez waited a beat, and Cinco suddenly realized what that meant. "So the bad news is that someone else has been committing the acts of vandalism and violence on the Gentry?" Cinco ventured.

  "Yeah, I guess so, son. The FBI and the Rangers are pulling their men off the ranch and stopping their inquiries in the county," the sheriff told him. "I'm afraid it'll be up to you and me alone to figure out who's been causing all the ruckus 'round here."

  Another few words with the sheriff and Cinco turned his horse, heading toward the main ranch house. Sheriff Alvarez was right. The violence on the ranch had nothing to do with Meredith and must be directed toward the Gentrys instead.

  Oh, dear Lord. Rourke had never been there at all. The person who'd been smoking outside her window … the vandalism and arson … all the work of someone from around here? Someone who hated the Gentrys enough to cause all this trouble.

  Cinco's heart sank. Forget about protecting her, he'd managed to bring the trouble right to her instead. How could he be so stupid? He knew Rourke wouldn't have been vandalizing the ranch or advertising his whereabouts like that. The man was crazed but not crazy. Cinco had even told Meredith that Rourke's way would've been with a gun. Why hadn't he listened to himself instead of wasting time?

  Desolate and despairing, a hundred thoughts ran through Cinco's mind at once. But the overriding one was of an unsuspecting and unprotected golden-haired pilot that he loved more than anything else on earth.

  Love? That was a word he hadn't used, and certainly hadn't meant, in a very long time. Did he love her? Unquestionably he felt something close to love. And it was definitely more intense than anything he'd ever felt before, even for Ellen. But he was too smart to believe he had a chance in hell of having a long-term relationship with Meredith. She was a flyer and a city girl. And now that Rourke had been captured, she'd soon be leaving the Gentry ranch for her own world.

  Helpless to find a way around their differences, he refused to think about it anymore for now. There were other problems to face at the moment, anyway.

  Like what creep would've known the ranch and the routine well enough to keep from getting caught? And, more important, he wondered, exactly who hated the Gentrys—or him—badly enough to do such rotten and violent things?

  Meredith laughed at the little skit that a couple of the teenagers were performing inside the barn. They'd worked hard on making up a script and costumes for their friends' entertainment today. They were pretty good actors, too.

  Her gaze wandered over to a dark corner and landed on Bryan, who was sulking there, separated from the others. He looked so forlorn. Meredith had all along thought of him as a young boy. But Abby told her that he was the oldest of the teens at seventeen and had been in serious trouble in the city.

  Meredith still wanted to speak to him, to apologize for his embarrassment at the dance and offer a little sympathy. But she hadn't been able to find the right moment yet.

  Abby also told her that Bryan had only attended classes sporadically since the dance contest, and that he'd held himself apart from the other kids when he did. Meredith figured it was out of embarrassment or that maybe he hated her for walking away with Cinco. But she didn't know how to go about talking with Bryan or trying to befriend him.

  For the past couple of weeks, Cinco hadn't let her out of her cage long enough to even attend a class let alone talk to a needy kid. She'd decided that Cinco didn't trust her to take care of herself. Probably he couldn't trust anybody since his parents had just disappeared off the face of the earth. She wasn't so positive she'd be able to trust anyone after something like that, either.

  She sure wished she knew more about human relations and what was the right thing to say at the right time. But she'd never learned such things. All her life, human contact had always been based on giving and receiving orders. Only since she'd been on the ranch had she begun to learn anything about friendship, caring and trust. So she would just have to muddle through this little chat somehow and hope Bryan would listen. Maybe she could make a difference in his life.

  As the kids' skit ended and everyone applauded their efforts, Meredith made her way toward Bryan. She was determined to say something to him.

  "That was wonderful, gang," Abby told the group as the applause died down. "I'm very impressed with your dramatic abilities. And now I have a surprise for y'all too. Your mares want to say goodbye. I thought maybe we'd all go for one last trail ride this afternoon. I'm afraid it'll be a little on the chilly side, but we won't
stay out too long. Okay?"

  A general roar of agreement went up amongst the kids. It seemed they couldn't care less about a few snow flurries or cold temperatures.

  Meredith watched Bryan to see his reaction. He didn't smile but quietly moved off with the rest of the kids to saddle the horses. She decided to wait a while longer to speak to him until they were on the trail, not wanting to embarrass him any further.

  Meredith began to saddle her mare the way Abby had trained them to do when she suddenly remembered her guards. Would they let her accompany the kids on horseback? She'd been so sheltered for the past week, she was afraid that going riding would be out of the question.

  Abby offered to finish saddling her horse while Meredith stepped outside to speak to the deputy who'd been stationed at the barn door. But when she walked into the muted light of the overcast skies, she discovered the deputy was gone.

  She went back inside the barn to Abby.

  "The guard isn't at the door and I don't see him nearby," Meredith told Abby. "Can we call Cinco and ask what's going on?"

  Abby took out her cell phone and punched in her brother's number. After she'd told him what they'd found, she handed her phone over to Meredith.

  "Rourke's been captured in Michigan and the feds are pulling their men out of the county," he said. "I'm heading for the main house. Stay with Abby and the group. We have yet to find our arsonist, and I don't want you to accidentally run into trouble alone."

  Meredith agreed. As she led her mare out of the barn and prepared to ride with the group, she thought about what he'd told her.

  Rourke was in custody. There wasn't any reason left for her to stay on the Gentry Ranch. She could really be free.

  That was what she'd wanted all along, wasn't it?

  The more she considered the word, the more she wondered. Free to do what?

  Free to go back to a life of loneliness? Free to forever wonder what might've been? To think forever of the earthbound man on the Gentry ranch?

  Then she remembered the exhilaration she felt when she flew—the need she had to soar above the clouds. Ever since she could remember, flying had been the most important thing in her world. The very thought of flight had kept her going when, at times, the world around her felt so dark and forbidding it seemed about to swallow her.

  She shook her head. No matter how much she loved Cinco, she couldn't imagine a life with a man who refused to fly. But the thought of living without him nearly killed her, too.

  Meredith felt a cold wind and looked up to find that she was trailing the group as they slowly inched their way out of the corrals and barn arenas. The snow came down in increasingly heavier flurries, but hadn't begun to stick to anything except a couple of tall trees.

  Actually, riding through the snow might be quite beautiful, she mused. There were so many treasures and wonders yet to discover on the Gentry ranch, she could scarcely believe she wouldn't be around to see them.

  An hour later the snow had begun to fall in earnest. At the head of the group, Abby held up her hand to halt the little band of riders. Barely able to make out her friend's figure through the thick snow, Meredith imagined that Abby wanted to turn their party around and head for home.

  The scenery was so gorgeous—undisturbed white snow against the browns of the scrubs and trees. She'd even seen a couple of icicles hanging from low branches as they'd ridden by. It was almost too beautiful to comprehend. She wanted to banish thoughts of never seeing such a sight again.

  Meredith sighed heavily and brought her mare to a halt. Abby was indeed preparing to turn the group back toward home.

  Home. Meredith hadn't thought of anyplace as a real home since her mother died. But the Gentry Ranch, and the people who lived on it, seemed more like a home and family than she'd ever imagined she might have.

  When she looked up, she found herself at the end of the line again as the troop moved toward the main house.

  She guessed she probably should remain back here, a little behind everyone else.

  "Don't worry, babe. It won't be long now." Bryan had slowed his horse enough to drop back beside her.

  She was glad to see him there. This might be just the chance she'd been seeking to talk with him. But what had he said? And what had he called her—babe?

  "Uh, Bryan. Please call me Meredith," she told him. "And what won't be long now?"

  It suddenly occurred to her that he was riding too close by her side and she didn't feel that comfortable on horseback yet. Their knees were almost touching, and he seemed to be turning her horse away from the path the others followed.

  What did he think he was doing? She wanted to talk to him privately, but this might be a little much.

  "What's going on, Bryan?" she probed again. "You're riding too close."

  "Shush. I'm rescuing you. Keep your voice down," he muttered.

  "Rescuing me? From what?"

  "From that Gentry dude, and this godforsaken ranch, of course." Bryan tugged on her horse's rein and turned both their mounts in a different direction from the trail riders. The two separated riders headed toward the hills and away from the main house.

  "Wait a minute, please, Bryan. I don't need rescuing and I'm not sure we should leave the group, Abby will worry."

  He acted as if he hadn't heard a word she said, but she could hear him clearly enough.

  "I've been trying for weeks to create enough chaos around here to get you away from him," Bryan lamented. "This is my last real chance. We're near enough now to the shack that I've been using and the pickup I stole."

  It had been Bryan all along—not Rourke. Yes, now she could picture Bryan under that tree smoking a cigarette. But she couldn't comprehend that he'd been the one to cut Dickens's leg—or start the fire. He said he'd stolen a truck? Good heavens, the poor kid was truly misguided. She wanted to help him. Had it been her fault that he'd gone so far astray?

  Meredith swiveled in her saddle, looking to see how far away Abby had ridden with the kids. The snowfall was heavy enough now that she couldn't see them.

  She knew so little about giving advice. Never in her life before coming to the ranch had she cared enough about anyone to even try.

  No matter his real age, he's just a kid, she told herself. True, he'd done some horrible things, but he seemed so concerned for her welfare. Apparently, he didn't want to hurt her but just wanted to help her somehow. She needed to give him every chance. And she needed to give herself a chance to do some good for another human being.

  She'd go with him to the line shack. The only way to ever reach him was to talk. She would apologize but set him straight and try to talk some sense into him.

  Afterward she'd convince him to give himself up to Cinco and the sheriff. Childish pranks to grab attention were one thing, but arson and stealing were serious.

  "Okay," she said. "We'll go to this shack and talk, but you need to talk to Cinco, too. Maybe if you apologize, he'll find a way to keep you out of trouble."

  Rage crinkled around Bryan's eyes. "Apologize!" he screamed. "That guy embarrassed me. I warned him I'd get even."

  "Even? What are you talking about?"

  "I'm gonna kill that bastard with my bare hands," he bragged. "I stole one of the ranch cell phones. You're going to call him and tell him to come rescue you again. He's good at that."

  Bryan sneered at his own words and lowered his voice. "Then he's gonna get what's coming to him."

  * * *

  Eleven

  « ^ »

  Cinco knew he wasn't thinking clearly. It had only been about fifteen minutes since he'd received Meredith's phone message, but his heart still hadn't stopped racing.

  The kid. Just imagine, that dang kid had been the one causing all the trouble. When this was over, Cinco intended to find out exactly how that punk had managed such free access to the Gentry ranch. And … he intended to have a serious discussion with Abby about holding any more classes for troubled youths.

  The sheriff had been notified and m
ost of the Gentry's hands were aware of the situation. Deep down, he knew Meredith could take care of herself, he'd even given her a gun, for heaven's sake. He couldn't be sure, but he doubted that the kid had access to a gun.

  Cinco was just glad the dirt road running past Triple Creek came within a half mile of the line shack where the kid had led Meredith. As he rushed over to join the sheriff's deputies who were loading up a couple of four-wheel-drive trucks, Matt, one of the ranch's pilots called out to him.

  "Hey, Cinco! Hold up a second."

  "I'm in a hurry, Matt. We have a situation on the ranch that I need to take care of immediately."

  "I know, boss. We've all heard about one of Abby's kids being holed up with your friend at the Triple Creek cabin," the pilot told him. "But I just checked and the weather's clearing … at least enough to get the copter in the air. I'd be willing to fly the sheriff or a deputy out there. The shack's just a fifteen-minute flight away. The kid wouldn't be expecting any surprise like that."

  Cinco started to politely turn down the pilot's offer. After all, Cinco believed himself responsible for everything that happened on the ranch. He was the one responsible for Meredith … and especially for her current danger. And he should be the one to arrive at the line shack before anyone else. The kid was his problem, not the sheriff's.

  But Cinco hesitated—while thoughts of Meredith alone with that obviously disturbed teenager gave him the chills. Oh, hell. If there was a way to get to her faster and surprise the boy, Cinco knew he had to take it.

  "Thanks, Matt. I appreciate the offer," he began somberly. "Go get the helicopter ready. I'll go with you. Let me just tell the sheriff what's going on, and I'll join you on the airstrip in a few minutes."

  Meredith stepped from the outhouse and realized that although the wind still whipped around her ankles, the snow had stopped falling. Bryan took a last drag on his cigarette before he ground it out under his heel. His denim collar was pulled up against the wind, as he'd been waiting for her.