by Cathie Linz
He still wasn’t sure where things had gone wrong this morning. One second, they’d been snuggled together in bed, and the next minute, she’d taken off in a huff. He knew it had something to do with his reaction to her saying the word wedding.
But she’d said she’d only been kidding and then added the kicker, that he wasn’t the kind of man she was looking for. What the hell was that supposed to mean? How was a man supposed to know if she was mad at him for bringing up marriage or for trying to duck out of it?
As he neared the front porch, Dylan saw the orange barn cat sitting on the railing near the swing. He remembered how that cat had stuck her nose in the air after the fight Dylan had had with Abigail in the barn last week. Ever since then, the cat had been distant with him. Just like Abbie. Until last night. Abbie hadn’t been distant last night. She’d been…incredible.
Deciding to practice his “making up” skills, Dylan approached the cat. “So, are you not speaking to me, either, hmm? I didn’t mean anything insulting before, but you’ve got to admit that males do have a hard time figuring out the female of the species, whatever the species.”
“Abbie just painted that swing this afternoon so I wouldn’t get too close to it if I were you. It’s probably still wet,” Raj warned him as she stood in the doorway, a kitchen towel in her hands.
“I can see that. Where is Abbie, by the way?”
“I don’t know. She wasn’t here when I got back from Big Rock. She must have left in a hurry—the can of paint and the brush were still out here on the porch. Her horse is gone. So is Randy’s.”
This news immediately raised an internal red flag as far as Dylan was concerned. “It’ll be time for supper soon.”
“I know. She should have been back by now. I’m getting worried about her. When I left, she didn’t say anything about going riding. In fact, she was expecting an important call from her agent.”
“Maybe the agent called, and Abbie decided to go for a ride.”
“That’s the thing. The phone was ringing when I got in, and it was Abbie’s agent. She still hadn’t reached Abbie. And this was a very important call. Abbie wouldn’t have blown it off like this unless something happened.”
“Well, she was sort of upset…” Dylan began.
“Because of you.” Raj’s look was a piercing accusation.
Not knowing how much Abbie had told her friend about what had gone on at the homesteader’s cabin last night, Dylan was at a temporary loss as to what to say.
The telltale sound of the musical horn on Ziggy’s fourwheel-drive vehicle diverted Dylan’s attention.
Ziggy approached Dylan with a thunderous expression. “Abbie iz too goot vur you,” he growled, his accent even more noticeable than normal.
“Have you seen her?” Dylan demanded.
“Of course. I am here to make fondue for her.”
“She isn’t here,” Raj told Ziggy.
“But I told her I was coming at this time. Where is she? I talked to her this afternoon, and she said she would be here. She was going to paint the swing.”
“When was the last time you saw Abbie?” Dylan asked Ziggy.
“This afternoon. Maybe three o’clock. Randy and Abbie went by riding hell-bent for leather a few hours ago.”
“And you didn’t find any note or anything in the house when you got home?” Dylan asked Raj.
She shook her head. “Do you think something happened to them?”
“It’s unlikely. Look, there’s Shem and Hondo coming back, maybe they know what’s going on.”
“Shem might, but Hondo never has known what’s going on in the past, so I seriously doubt if he will know anything now,” Raj muttered.
“Shem, have you seen Abbie or Randy?” Dylan asked.
The older man shook his head. “No, can’t say that I have.”
“Did Randy say anything about going riding with Abbie today?”
“Randy hasn’t been saying much of anything to me lately,” Shem admitted. “He’s been acting mighty peculiar, even for him.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t mean to be impugning my son’s reputation none, but he’s been gone a lot, not been keeping up with all his chores.”
“Where does he go?”
“That’s just it. He won’t say. I interrogated him about the matter, but he remained recalcitrant.”
“Don’t they have medicine for that?” Hondo asked.
“I don’t like this,” Dylan muttered. “I don’t like the sound of this one bit.”
“Where are you going?” Shem asked him.
“To see if I can find Abbie.”
“Randy would never hurt her.”
“He better not, or he’s dead meat.” Dylan’s voice was as rock hard as the surrounding Bitterroot Mountains.
“He’s sweet on her,” Hondo blurted out. “Made me promise not to tell.”
“Great,” Dylan muttered.
“And he’s not real happy with you,” Hondo continued.
“Well, the feeling is mutual,” Dylan growled. “Come on, the four of us will ride out, fanning out in each direction. Ziggy, you use your Jeep and go south. Hondo, you go east, and Shem, you take the ground to the west. I’ll go north.”
“What about me?” Raj asked.
“You stay here in case she should come back to the ranch house.”
“Classic Western,” Raj muttered as the men departed. “Leave the little woman behind to mind the fire.” In a louder voice, she called out, “Dylan, take Abbie’s cellular phone with you. She’s got it recharging in the barn. Call in and bring her home.”
Dylan’s first stop was the hill behind the ranch house, the one he’d kidnapped her from…was it just yesterday? But there was no sign of her today. He called out her name, afraid that she might have taken cover when she’d heard him coming. Not that she’d be in the best mood to answer him, either.
“Ziggy is here for fondue. Come on, Abbie, if you’re up here, let me know. I won’t bother you, I promise. I just need to know you’re okay.”
But his words were only answered by the wind and a noisy magpie. Golden sunlight hit the hilltop, reminding Dylan of how the sunlight hit Abbie’s blond hair, turning it into spun gold. The smell of wood smoke from the ranch-house fireplace reminded him of the fireplace at the homesteader’s cabin, and Abbie’s teasing comment about him knowing how to start fires and his comment about not being able to control them. The same might be said about relationships. Dylan knew how to get things started, but keeping the fire going, tending to it and making sure the embers didn’t burn out—that wasn’t anything he had any experience with.
His own parents had been married forever, it seemed. It was a happy marriage. But since Dylan had started chasing rodeo, he’d seen few happy marriages. The life-style didn’t leave much time for family and all too much opportunity for trouble. But Dylan didn’t have that life anymore. He didn’t know what life he did have, but in that instant it hit him that he wanted Abbie in his life.
He might be a rolling stone, but he’d never lost anything he’d ever really missed. Until now. Until Abbie.
His stomach clenched, and his hand sought the reassurance of the red button in his shirt pocket. It had come off Abigail’s shirt before they’d made love last night. He’d found it after she’d gone galloping off and left him alone. As a kid, his dad had always told him that finding something red, like a button, was a sign of good luck. Dylan sure hoped so. Because he was getting a very bad feeling.
It was the same kind of feeling in the pit of his stomach he used to get in the chutes, a sixth sense that would warn him something was about to go wrong. He’d ignored that feeling at his own expense that last goround, and he’d bit the dust big time, smashing his leg when a horse named Devil Dare had gotten the better of him.
Dylan had that same concrete-butterfly-in-the-gut feeling again now. And this time, he wasn’t about to ignore his instincts. This time, he wasn’t going to take any risk
s. He was going to find Abbie.
Nine
The sun had set and the twilight shadows darkened to blackness when Dylan returned to the ranch house. He knew even before Raj told him that Abbie still hadn’t been found.
“Nothing?” Dylan asked, his voice ragged.
Raj shook her head.
“I learned tracking in army,” Ziggy said. “I found some tracks where I saw Randy and Abbie riding, but they went into the river.”
“Randy is trying to cover his tracks,” Raj said. “They do that in the movies all the time.”
“I’m calling the police,” Dylan said.
“I already did that,” Raj replied. “The sheriff said he’d be here an hour ago. Ah, maybe that’s him now.”
Sure enough, Sheriff Tiber came driving up, as if he had all the time in the world. Already Dylan was ready to throttle him.
“Misplaced your boss, have ya?” Sheriff Tiber laughed before spitting a wad of tobacco out of the side of his mouth.
It was all Dylan could do not to grab the weasely lawman by the throat and slam him against his fancy police car. But that would only land Dylan in jail, and he couldn’t do Abigail any good there. So he kept his cool.
“She’s been missing since early this afternoon,” he said curtly.
“Well like I tol’ your little foreign friend over there on the phone, I can’t call out a search party until daylight. You say she rode off with Randy Buskirk? Maybe the two of them are sparkin’ and snugglin’ under the stars somewheres.”
“And maybe Hoss Redkins took her to do a little personal convincing that she should sell this ranch,” Dylan shot back.
“You watch your mouth, boy. I haven’t forgot about you pullin’ somethin’ fishy at the dance, resultin’ in Hoss Jr. injurin’ himself. Charges might still be pressed against you regardin’ that incident.”
Not the least bit intimidated by the threat, Dylan retorted, “Last I heard, it wasn’t illegal to look at someone. ”
“It might be in this county,” Shem muttered.
“What did you say, old man?” Sheriff Tiber demanded.
“I said that it might be that in this county, folks don’t have the percipience to know what they’ve got with you as their lawman,” Shem said.
Sheriff Tiber frowned, clearly unsure if he’d just been complimented or insulted.
“I hardly ever know what he’s talkin’ about, either,” Hondo told the sheriff in sympathy.
“If Abigail is still missing by tomorrow, I’ll see if I can get a man to come out and help in the search,” the sheriff said. “But she’s got to be missing twenty-four hours before I can do that.”
Shem’s hand on Dylan’s arm prevented him from doing something he might regret. Dylan froze, remembering how Abbie had always been the one to put her hand on his arm. Would he ever see her again?
In the past, the thing Dylan had always feared the most in life was losing his freedom. But now, with Abbie’s disappearance, he realized that the thing he really feared the most was losing her.
Dylan watched the red taillights of the sheriff’s car until they disappeared in the darkness. It had been a while since Dylan had prayed, but he prayed now, prayed that Abbie wasn’t hurt, that she was okay, that he’d find her.
Then he went inside and phoned Hoss Redkins.
“He’s out of town on business,” a Mexican woman told him.
“Tell him that I’m holding him personally responsible for Abbie Turner’s safety,” Dylan grated before slamming down the phone.
“Maybe I should just drive over there myself,” he muttered. “Maybe he’s got her at the ranch.”
“His wife would never go along with that,” Shem stated.
“There are plenty of places on his spread to hide out.”
“We don’t know Redkins is behind her disappearance. She rode out with Randy,” Shem reminded him.
So Dylan’s options were that either she’d been kidnapped by a lovestruck cowboy or she’d been taken by an overbearing bully who wanted her land. Neither scenario boded real well as far as Dylan was concerned. He was seriously considering driving over to Redkins’s place himself when the phone rang.
“It’s for you,” Raj told him.
Thinking it might be news about Abigail, Dylan grabbed the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, little brother, how are things going in the damsel-rescuing business?” Michael cheerfully inquired.
“She’s gone.”
“Who? What’s going on up there?”
“Abbie. She went out riding with one of the hands this afternoon, and neither one of them has come back. The local sheriff won’t do diddly squat. I’ve got this gut feeling that she’s in trouble, maybe hurt. I’ve got to find her. Listen, I can’t talk now. I’ve got to go.” Dylan hung up the phone.
Not even five seconds later, it rang again. He automatically picked it up.
“Put Dylan Janos on the phone,” a muffled voice demanded.
“This is Dylan.”
“If you ever want to see your girlfriend Abbie alive, you’ll ride out to the high-country cabin—alone. At dawn. You get there any earlier or later, and she’s a goner.”
“You hurt one hair on her head…” Dylan growled, but he was speaking to silence. The caller, whoever it was, had already hung up.
“Randy, you know what’s going to happen,” Abbie said, using what the librarians at work would have recognized as her analytical voice. It was the one she used on the library director whenever he wanted to cut the budget. Now she wanted to cut the rope Randy had used to hobble her to the cabin’s center support beam. “They’re going to come looking for me.”
“Not in the dark. And even if they do, they won’t know to look for you here. Not until we want him to.”
“Him, who? Who are you talking about?”
“Dylan. Who else?”
“What do you have against Dylan? What do you have against me? Why are you doing this?”
“You should never have come up here to this cabin with Dylan.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t talk about it. You sure you don’t want something to eat?”
Abigail shook her head, trying to keep her fingers from shaking. Randy had tied her right ankle and wrist to the cabin’s center support beam together, effectively hobbling her. Then he sat about two feet away from her, never taking his eyes off her so she could test the intricate knots he’d tied. He’d moved the bed closer to the center post so she could sit on it.
Abigail had ridden all the way out here thinking that Dylan had been hurt, that he was lying up here injured. It hadn’t been until she’d rushed into the cabin that she’d realized something was wrong. The place had been deserted, the wildflowers she’d picked when Dylan had kidnapped her as his make-believe bride already dried up in the mason jar.
The bed where she and Dylan had made love offered her no comfort now. Instead, it was a mocking reminder of everything that had gone wrong. She still couldn’t believe everything that had happened in the past thirty-six hours. She’d been kidnapped, wooed, skinny-dipped, smoked out, courted, kissed, caressed and made love to.
After that, things had gone downhill fast, starting with her humiliation about misunderstanding Dylan’s intentions. Her heart had been broken, and she’d been furious, hurt, depressed. Then Randy had told her Dylan had been hurt, and she’d been panic-stricken, anxious, kidnapped again. Only this time, she was not having a good time. In fact, she was scared, even though she was trying not to show it.
“Randy, can’t you loosen this rope?”
“I’d really like to, but I can’t risk you taking off.”
“And what’s going to happen when I have to visit the outhouse?”
“I’ll go with you and stand guard outside.”
“Great,” she muttered.
“This wasn’t all my idea,” Randy said defensively.
“Then whose idea was it?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
<
br /> Five minutes later, Abigail asked, “Are you going to start a fire? It’s getting chilly in here.”
“Good idea.”
Abigail had it all mapped out. The blocked chimney would fill the cabin with smoke. Randy would have to untie her and take her outside. In the confusion, she’d make her getaway. It was a great plan.
Unfortunately the chimney did not cooperate.
“Ah, that’s a nice fire going now. Some birds had put a nest in the chimney flue, but I cleared that out right after Dylan left this morning.”
“You mean you were up here spying on us?” The thought of Randy seeing her as she’d gone skinny-dipping, or when she’d made love with Dylan in the candlelit cabin, made her skin crawl.
“I only got here in time to see you go riding off alone on that big Appaloosa of his. But I knew what you’d been up to up here. And I won’t hold it against you. I know that none of that was your idea.”
“None of this is my idea, either. I’d much rather be back home.”
“I know that. I’m trying to make it as comfortable up here as possible. Now, I’m not a man to go getting my feelings hurt easily, but I think you could be a bit more understanding about how difficult this is on me.”
“Difficult on you?“ she repeated in disbelief. “You should try it from where I’m sitting.”
“How about I read you some excerpts from your last book? I think I resemble Ramon, don’t you?”
The way a chipmunk resembled a lion. Instead of answering, she said, “Don’t read my book.” She knew from the look on his face that he’d planned on reading her the love scenes. She didn’t want him getting any ideas. “Tell me about yourself instead.” She could only hope to keep him busy until help came.
“Who was on the phone?” Raj asked.
“My brother, Michael, from Chicago.”
“Both times?”
Dylan didn’t know whom to trust. Raj had been Abbie’s friend for years. But how was he to know if she was involved in this mess? He just couldn’t risk it. Not with Abbie’s well-being at risk.