Cowboy Under Siege

by Gail Barrett

  “Not safe how?” she asked.

  When he didn’t answer, her exasperation rose. “Come on, Dad. You’re not making sense. Cole’s shorthanded. He needs help, and he can’t find anyone else—not this time of year. And you know I can do the work. So what’s really bothering you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s just not safe. Now leave it alone.” Still scowling, he tugged his ear.

  Her heart plummeted. So he still refused to tell her the truth—but why? What didn’t he want her to know?

  She tapped her foot, her frustration growing. This wasn’t like her father. If he really did know something, how could he justify not speaking out? What if something happened to the men? How could he live with the guilt?

  Tempted to mention Lana, she bit down hard on her lip. Cole had sworn her to silence, and she couldn’t betray that trust.

  Instead, she pulled the browband she’d found from her pocket and tossed it to her dad. “Any idea who this belongs to? I found it in the field.”

  His gaze flicked to the leather strap. “No.”

  “Cole thought it might be Tony’s.”

  He shrugged. “It could be. He has some fancy tack. Hang it in the tack room. Someone will claim it.”

  Frowning, she picked it up. “So what do you think of Tony? He was a troublemaker in high school.”

  “He does his work. That’s all I care about.” His gaze sharpened. “I’m warning you, Bethany. Don’t start sniffing around the men, stirring up trouble for Cole. He doesn’t need more headaches, especially from you.”

  She sat back, stung. “What do you mean by that?”

  “I’m not blind. I may not talk much, but I can see what’s going on. You caused that boy a whole pile of heartache when you left, and he doesn’t need you to come back here, meddling in his affairs.”

  Her jaw went slack. Fierce hurt welled inside. Her father never criticized her. And he’d never questioned her decision to leave.

  “He hurt me, too.”

  He shook his head. “You don’t know the half of it. You’ve got a stubborn streak a mile wide, and when you think you’re right, you don’t budge.”

  “I wonder where I got that trait?”

  He wagged his finger at her. “I’m warning you. Mind your own business. That boy doesn’t need more grief. Stay out of his affairs.”

  Rising, he grabbed the crutches propped against the wall. “I’m going to watch TV.”

  Stunned, she watched him hobble away. The microwave dinged, but she ignored it, her appetite suddenly gone.

  She hugged her arms, feeling gutted, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. She’d only wanted answers about the sabotage. Instead her father had attacked her and accused her of hurting Cole.

  But he was wrong. Cole had shut her out at the end. He’d clammed up, refusing to discuss any options, even to consider leaving the ranch.

  And she’d had to leave Maple Cove. Her father should have understood that. He knew what people around here were like. Some were all right, like Donald and Bonnie Gene. But there were plenty who had disapproved of her—even threatened her when she’d dated Cole. And she couldn’t ignore the insults; she had too much pride.

  Her stomach roiling with emotions, she put her plate in the refrigerator and grabbed a jacket, needing air. She went to the front porch and sat on the swing, then stared into the dark. Light from the main house shimmered from the massive windows, spilling out over the lawn.

  She’d spent her whole life having proving herself, always having to work harder than anyone else. And by the time she’d graduated from high school, she’d been fed up. She was tired of battling stereotypes, tired of people judging her by her race. She couldn’t even enter a store without clerks following her through the aisles, afraid she would steal their goods.

  She’d wanted to live where her skin color didn’t matter, where people judged her for herself. Where people didn’t assume she’d only succeeded because of quotas, or that she hadn’t earned her success.

  And she’d found that place in Chicago. She had friends, a rewarding job where she could make a difference in people’s lives. No one stared at her with suspicion or called her names on the streets.

  She sighed, a headache building behind her eyes. She hated to argue with her father. He so rarely lost his temper that it left her shaken and hurt.

  And he was dead wrong about Cole.

  She rocked the swing, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes. Then, suddenly remembering her patient, Mrs. Bolter—and needing to put something to rights after the debacle with her father, she speed-dialed Adam on her phone.

  “Hi, Bethany,” he said, picking up.

  She sagged back in relief. “Adam. I’m glad I caught you. I’ve been waiting for your call all day.”

  “How’s Montana? Round up any buffalo?” His words were as light as always, but his joviality sounded forced. Her belly flip-flopped.

  Something was wrong.

  “No buffalo, just a bunch of ornery cows.” She’d fill him in on the danger dogging the ranch when she returned. “So what’s going on? Did you find out anything about Mrs. Bolter?” The official report wouldn’t come out for weeks, but as lead doctor in the trial, Adam would be the first to know.

  “Yeah, but it’s not good.”

  “Not good how?” He didn’t answer, and the anxiety in her belly grew. “Come on, Adam. You’re making me nervous and I’ve already had a bad day. What happened?”

  The silence stretched. Her forehead began to throb. “Adam? What’s going on?”

  He cleared his throat. “I probably shouldn’t tell you yet, but there was a problem with the dose.”

  “She overdosed?” Incredulity washed through her. “How? We didn’t change anything, and she’s been tolerating that level for weeks.”

  “You’re right. It shouldn’t have changed. But when we checked the records, it looks like you doubled the dose.”

  “What?” She sat up straight. “I did not.” She scrupulously followed the “five rights” she’d learned in nursing school, reciting them like a mantra every time she administered a drug: right patient, drug, dose, route, time. She even checked everything twice. “You know how anal I am about that. There’s no way I gave her the wrong dose.”

  “Hey, I believe you. You don’t need to convince me of that. I’m just telling you what they found.”

  “I’d better come back and clear this up.”

  “Don’t panic. Let me see what I can do first. The investigation has just started.”

  Her throat closed. “They’re investigating me?”

  “It’s routine, you know that.”

  “But—”

  “Bethany, don’t worry. I’ll sort this out. I know you wouldn’t have made a mistake. That’s why I recommended you for the job. Give me a chance to talk to some people and inventory the drug supply, and I’ll call you in a couple of days.”

  Not panic? When the investigators thought she’d made a mistake and caused her patient’s death? Adam continued to reassure her, and she ended the call, but she still couldn’t catch her breath.

  She should fly back tomorrow and defend herself. Her father didn’t need her here—and after warning her away from Cole, he’d be happy to see her go. Besides, she’d probably imagined his involvement in the sabotage just as she’d exaggerated that noise in the barn.

  But what if she hadn’t misjudged him? What if he needed her help?

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead, trying to reason this out. Adam could handle the investigation at the clinic. They would check the study-drug supply, see that she hadn’t made a mistake. And surely they’d do an autopsy which would further back her up.

  Still, she hated being under suspicion. And it felt wrong to sit here idly with her beloved career on the line. She’d worked too hard to let anything derail her now.

  She rose, still dithering, when a man emerged from Cole’
s house. He stood on the porch for a moment, the light shining from the windows silhouetting his powerful build. Gage Prescott, one of the senator’s bodyguards. His military bearing gave him away. Then he continued down the steps and disappeared into the night, merging with the shadows like a pro.

  She swallowed hard, the feeling of menace she’d experienced in the barn winging back full force. And she knew she couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not while danger threatened her father. Not while armed men lurked in the shadows and attacked Cole’s ranch.

  Shivering, she pulled her jacket’s collar closer around her throat. She’d vowed to keep her distance from Cole, sworn she wouldn’t get involved. But she couldn’t leave here with unanswered questions.

  Even if she didn’t like what she found.

  Chapter 5

  “The security system is down again.”

  Cole took a long swallow of desperately needed coffee, then dragged his attention to his father’s bodyguard, Gage Prescott, who stood by the kitchen door. Great. Another problem already and the sun had barely come up. “What happened? I thought they just fixed it.”

  “I don’t know, but the entire system is out.”

  “Any signs of intrusion?”

  Gage shook his head. “Not that I could tell.”

  “So maybe it’s just a glitch.”

  Gage’s expression stayed neutral. “Maybe.”

  Or maybe it was more sabotage. Cole closed his eyes and swore. His ranch had become a war zone.

  But it was a war Cole intended to win.

  He huffed out a weary sigh. “All right. Call the company, see if they can send someone out right away. They should be open by eight.”

  He downed the last of the coffee, then glanced out the window at the still-shadowy yard, the thought of someone lurking in the darkness chilling his blood. But Prescott knew what he was doing. He’d keep the senator safe.

  And come hell or high water, Cole would protect his ranch.

  He strode through the great room, his boots ringing on the hardwood floor. He opened the door for Ace, then paused on the front porch, his breath turning to frost in the air. That front was fast approaching. He had to hurry and get his calves shipped off, then hustle back up to the mountains. If he didn’t rescue those cows before the snow set in, he’d lose even more of his herd.

  His border collies circling his heels, he crossed the yard to the staging area by the barn. His men stood by their horses and four-wheelers, drinking coffee and warming their hands. No one spoke. None of the usual banter filled the air.

  He felt like snarling himself.

  He scanned their sullen faces and frowned. “Where is everyone?”

  Earl Runningcrane stepped forward. “They rode ahead to get the corrals set up.”

  “Good.” His gaze landed on Bethany. She stood apart from the men, holding Red’s reins. She’d donned a vest over her long sleeved T-shirt in deference to the cold. The rising light drew hollows beneath her high cheekbones and dark smudges under her eyes.

  His belly tightened, his ingrained response to her beauty ticking him off. He didn’t need this distraction. He had enough on his mind without his libido leading him off course.

  Determined to rein in the unwanted reaction, he turned to Earl, the seasoned wrangler by his side. “Wait here for the trucks, then direct them to the pasture. Call me on my cell as soon as they show up.”

  “Right, boss.”

  Kenny brought over his quarter horse, Gunner. Careful not to look at Bethany, Cole took the reins and leaped astride. “We’ve got a long day ahead. Let’s move out.”

  “Cole, wait!” He groaned when he heard the shout. His housekeeper ran from the house, waving for him to stop.

  “Hold on,” he told his men. He clucked to his horse, then rode across the yard, bracing himself for bad news.

  Hannah came to a stop. “The trucking company just called. There’s a problem with the trucks, a scheduling glitch, and they can’t get them here today.”

  “You’re kidding.” How the hell had that happened? He’d spent hours on the phone last night making sure it was all arranged. “When can we get them?”

  “Tonight, if you can send your own drivers to pick them up. Otherwise you’ll have to wait another week.”

  “A week!” His mood plummeted. No way could he wait that long. He’d lose more cows if he did.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, the dull ache behind his eyes turning into a full-fledged throb. “All right. Tell them I’ll send some men up there tonight.” He didn’t have much choice. But neither could he afford to waste the day.

  He wheeled Gunner around and rejoined the men. “Change of plans. We can’t get the trucks until tonight, so we’re driving the cattle to the barn instead.” That would speed up the loading later. But he’d have to dip into his winter hay supply to feed the cows overnight—another unwelcome expense.

  Exhaling, he turned to Earl. “Make sure we’ve got enough hay on hand for tonight. We’ll bring them all in except the ones by Rock Creek. They need more time to recoup.”

  “Got it.”

  The men began to move out. Cole fell in beside Bethany, a bad feeling swirling inside. Dawn had barely broken, and trouble had already struck twice. He glanced at Bethany astride her horse—her long, black hair shimmering in the rising light, her exotic eyes firing his blood.

  And he suspected his problems had just begun.

  Bethany trailed the last group of cattle to the barn that afternoon, so tired she could hardly think. Fatigue pounded her skull. Her thighs ached from hours astride the horse. Dust clogged her throat, covering every inch of her with grit.

  But even that discomfort couldn’t take her mind off Cole.

  He loped up the side of the strung-out herd, attracting her attention, just as he had all day. His shoulder muscles rippled beneath his T-shirt. Sweat streaked his dusty jaw. Her gaze lingered on his big hands gripping the reins, the tendons roping his powerful arms, and her body began to hum. Cole was the quintessential cowboy—tough, determined, sexy as all get-out. And there was something about a man doing physical labor that appealed to her in a primitive way.

  At least this particular man.

  A calf lunged from the herd. Glad for the distraction, Bethany went in pursuit, but the border collie beat her to it and steered it back into line.

  “Tony,” Cole shouted above the lowing cows. “Get up to the front and start turning them toward the corral.” While Tony trotted off, Cole spun around and continued monitoring the herd.

  He glanced her way. His amazing blue eyes captured hers, and her heart made a crazy lurch. His strong neck glistened with sweat. Afternoon beard stubble darkened his jaw. And the utter maleness of him rolled through her, inciting a riot of nerves in her chest.

  All day long it had been the same—her eyes seeking him out. Their gazes colliding, then skidding away. His incredible sexual appeal winding her tighter than barbed wire on a brand-new fence.

  But as he rode off to chase a cow, she had to admit something else. More than his animal magnetism kept drawing her thoughts to him. She couldn’t forget her father’s accusations, making her wonder if she’d hurt Cole.

  And whether it mattered now if she had.

  Renewing her resolve to ignore him—and stop obsessing about things she couldn’t change—she wiped her forehead on her sleeve and surveyed the herd. They’d worked since dawn, driving hundreds of cows to the corrals by the barn, and now they were nearly done. In a few minutes she could escape into the cabin, take a long, hot bath and finally forget about Cole.

  Bill swung open the corral gate, and the cows began filing inside. The men watched from their horses and four-wheelers, staying within the cattle’s flight zone, but not so close that they’d make them bolt. Bethany glanced at the corral and spotted her father talking with Kenny Greene. He’d hobbled from the cabin on his crutches to watch the calves arrive.

  Another calf broke free from the herd, and Bethany nudged Red forward to hea
d it off. Then she swung around, intending to give the calves some space, but Tony rode up, his big gelding crowding her in.

  “Back off,” she said, fatigue adding an edge to her voice. “You’re going to spook the calves.”

  “The hell I will.” His flat eyes narrowed on hers. “I’ve been handling cows all my life. I don’t need a squaw like you telling me what to do.”

  She flushed at his favorite insult, but held her ground. “Tell me that when you’ve scattered the herd.”

  As if on cue, the cattle behind her panicked. Several lunged for freedom, prompting even more to break from the herd.

  Earl Runningcrane trotted up on his quarter horse, dust coating his angry face. “Tony! What the hell are you doing? Give them some space.”

  Tony glared back. “You’re not my boss. I don’t take orders from you.” But he jerked on the reins and rode off.

  “Idiot.” Earl turned her way. He asked her something in the Blackfoot language.

  Still unsettled, she shook her head. “Sorry. I don’t speak Blackfoot.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why should I?”

  He studied her for a moment, something that looked a lot like disappointment in his eyes. “No reason.” He kicked his horse and went after the fleeing cows.

  Exasperated, Bethany turned her attention back to the herd. What was with everyone these days? First her father criticized her decision to leave after high school, now Earl insinuated that she’d ignored her roots.

  But why should she speak Blackfoot? She’d never lived on the reservation; she’d grown up in Maple Cove. And so what if she had Indian ancestors? She had Caucasian ones, too.

  Still fuming, she trailed the herd to the barn. That was the problem with Maple Cove. Everyone wanted to box her in and label her according to some stereotyped notion they had. No one accepted her for herself.

  Especially not Tony. Her belly tightened as he rode past her and shot her a vicious look. She raised her chin and held his gaze, refusing to back down. He was nothing but a mean-spirited bully who thrived on his victims’ fear.