Wild Horse Springs

by Jodi Thomas

  She felt her anger at this hard man melt away. He must be hurting and cold, but he’d stepped outside to be with her. To set things right between them.

  “No, you’re right,” she said. “I should have asked before I painted your kitchen, but the cabinets did need organizing. I don’t see how you could ever find anything it there. You had two cans of motor oil next to the beans.” Suddenly she was rattling and didn’t know how to stop. “I get nervous sometimes and have to keep busy. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “I know that,” he admitted. “Before you found me that night, it had been weeks since I’d talked to anyone.” One crutch tumbled to the porch when he brushed her shoulder as if he worried that he’d gripped too hard. “Can we start over?”

  “From where? From when you fell and were hurt? From the hospital? From...”

  He lowered his lips to almost touching hers. “From right here.”

  His kiss was tender, hesitant and familiar.

  Tess closed her eyes and accepted his apology.

  When he pulled away, he stared at her as if seeing her, really seeing her for the first time. “I’m not used to being around people, honey. If you’ll give me some time, I swear I’ll make an effort to get back to being human. Only you have to let me this close to you because I have a feeling you’re all the medicine I’m going to need.”

  She grinned, knowing he was trying. “When this assignment is over, no matter how much you yell at me or don’t want me around, I’m holding you to your promise for a date.”

  He looked surprised. “I thought I’d blown any chance of that, but if you’re still willing, I’d like to take you out. Only no uniforms.”

  She thought of telling him that her other clothes weren’t much different. It crossed her mind that she could change, reinvent herself for a date, but that wasn’t her style.

  Picking up his crutch, she held it out. “You need to get inside and off that leg.”

  Mothering again, she thought as she bit the tip of her tongue.

  He growled, but it didn’t frighten her as much as it had before.

  “You running my life again, Tess?” His words held no anger.

  “Of course. Someone has to, Cody.” She smiled at him, hoping to take the edge off her comment.

  He leaned on her as they moved to the door, his hand a caress along her side. “I’m counting the hours till we get rid of this kid.” The tips of his fingers brushed the side of her breast, letting her know his thoughts.

  He’d leaned to kiss her again, when they heard Thatcher yell, “I heard that, Ranger, and the feeling is mutual. If I didn’t have two idiots trying to kill me, I’d be out of this place like lightning over grease.”

  Tess held the door for Cody as she fought down a giggle.

  “Maybe we should think about having a dozen or so kids so you can get over this need you have to collect the wounded,” he whispered as he passed.

  “We’ll discuss it when you’re out of the cast.”

  “We’ll discuss what?” Thatcher yelled.

  They both answered, “Nothing.”

  Cody didn’t argue when she pointed to the chair across from Thatcher.

  She thought her ranger looked a bit pale, but she didn’t comment. If she was going to date a bear, she needed to limit the number of times she poked him.

  Long after dark, when she fussed over Cody’s covers on his half bed beside the door and asked Thatcher a dozen times if he needed anything, Cody told her to go to bed.

  “I’ll wake you for the next shift.” His voice was gruff, an order, nothing more, but his eyes watched her every move.

  She vanished into the bedroom. A few minutes later, in her flannel pajamas, she crawled into Cody’s bed and wished he was sleeping with her. They’d only kissed twice on the porch. A few fiery kisses, that was all. This time she wouldn’t make the mistake of thinking it meant more. He’d been joking from the first that they should get married. It didn’t mean anything.

  For a moment this afternoon he’d stood in the cold, looking like he had something more he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.

  She fought the urge to help him, suggest topics, rattle on about nothing until he got his thoughts in order. But she hadn’t. She was in uncharted territory with this man, and she had a feeling he felt the same way with her.

  Cody was different than any of the men who’d asked her out or looked at her with need in their eyes.

  He was different because she wanted him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  LAUREN WALKED INTO the diner a little after dawn and saw Lucas sitting at a table alone.

  Strange how things worked out. They’d ended what was between them, and it somehow freed her to believe they might be just friends for a change.

  Lauren smiled at the cracks in the old linoleum as she crossed the diner. She didn’t miss the bald spots on the counter where some waitress had wiped the color off. At twenty-five, her life was starting to be that way. No longer perfect, but still workable. There were places on her heart that were worn, scrubbed raw by tears.

  A grin suddenly spread across her face. Better worn than unused. Hope was always around the corner.

  On a whim, Lauren had invited her roommate from college to spend Thanksgiving with her. Polly had texted that she wasn’t flying home, and the drive from Amarillo would take her only a few hours.

  Thanksgiving at the Brigman lake house was sometimes no more than takeout and football, but Polly would enjoy it.

  Plus, Tim had always been drawn to Polly more like a moth to fire than a bee to honey. No matter how many times he saw her, he never seemed to mind getting burned. Polly had broken his heart half a dozen times. Lauren didn’t want Polly to go that far again, but she wouldn’t mind if Tim’s old lover took his mind off their “breakup.”

  Tim deserved someone who could love him completely, and she’d made up her mind she’d rather be alone than in an almost-enough relationship. Polly would flirt with Tim, so he’d get over Lauren faster. Knowing Polly, Tim and she would probably end up in bed together, and Polly would be so much better than Lauren ever was. Tim would count himself lucky.

  When she walked up, Lucas stood. “Okay if I sit down?”

  He nodded but didn’t meet her eyes.

  Several people in the café watched. Lauren fought the urge to announce, “Just having coffee, nothing else.”

  Lucas waited for her to slide into the booth, then moved to the other side.

  She didn’t miss the confusion in his lawyer eyes, as if he was silently saying, we’ve talked out this and the case is closed.

  Dressed in the worn clothes of a working cowboy, he didn’t look much like the lawyer she’d seen less than a week ago. Being this close to him was a walk down memory lane. They were in high school again, and she thought he was perfect.

  Only today, memory lane was only a short sidewalk.

  She didn’t start the conversation. She was too busy wondering what she would say to the eighteen-year-old Lucas if she could go back in time. Maybe everyone wondered that when the time and the love had passed. Would they go back and say one thing that would alter history?

  Lauren climbed out of her melancholy thoughts.

  “Do you have any news from Thatcher? I talked to Pop this morning, and he says the Little Red Riding Hood is doing better, but she still doesn’t say a word.”

  “That’s some good news,” Lucas said, as if he thought he was expected to answer.

  Lauren just waited.

  He folded his hands atop the table and finally said, “I called Thatcher this morning. He claims he’s well. Said none of his cuts are dripping, so he might as well stop complaining. He wants to go home.”

  “Pop’s not going to let that happen until he finds the two guys
who attacked him.”

  Lucas shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense. How hard could a one-eared druggie be to find in a town this size?”

  A noise at the front distracted both of them. Tim had banged his way inside and managed to knock over the coatrack.

  Lucas moved to help, but Lauren motioned him back. “No,” she whispered. “He hates it when people help him or even look like they notice he limps.”

  Lucas shook his head. “He’s not limping, Lauren, he’s drunk.”

  She watched with everyone else as Tim straightened and carefully walked toward the back booth without the usual limp he had when he thought no one was looking. Lucas was right; he had been drinking. The goofy smile on his face always gave him away.

  “Why does he drink?” Lucas whispered. “Trying to get over you, maybe?”

  Lauren shrugged. “He started in college and just never stopped. I don’t think it’s me. He hasn’t seemed to need a reason for years.”

  Lucas stood. He walked straight to Tim and put his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Join us for coffee.”

  Tim looked surprised to see him and went along, even though the last time they’d talked hadn’t been friendly.

  Lucas shoved him into the booth across from Lauren and pulled up a chair at the end of the table. “We need your help, Tim,” he said, as he held up two fingers to the waitress.

  Tim straightened, obviously believing no one in the room knew he was drunk. “I’m at your service. I’m considering switching to writing crime novels. My hometown appears to be a hot spot of activity, and I might as well use my skills to help.”

  Sissie clunked down two coffees in front of Tim and looked at the other two people at the table. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Two more coffees,” Lucas said. “And a round of apple turnovers if Dorothy still makes them.”

  “She does.” Sissie pointed with her thumb. “How about I bring the whole pot of coffee over here? I got better things to do than walk the length of this place.” She winked as if she thought she was funny. “If you want better service, you might think of parking closer to the counter.”

  “Noted.” Lucas frowned at her.

  The waitress darted off so quickly Lauren thought she vanished.

  Lucas grumbled, but Tim didn’t seem to get what they were talking about. He simply stared at Lauren with a kind of sick-puppy-dog look.

  “We still broken up, L?” His voice was steady, but his eyes looked like fog had settled in them for the winter.

  “Yes.” She smiled at her best friend.

  Tim grinned back. “That’s nice. Do tell the next guy you’re frigid, would you, L?”

  “Of course, but it’s winter. Maybe the next guy won’t notice.”

  Tim downed half the cup of steaming coffee. The fog seemed to clear a little, but reality obviously still drifted only at the edges of his mind.

  “Polly is coming in to spend the weekend with us. Be nice to her, will you, Tim?”

  He shrugged. “I’m always nice to her.” The coffee was sobering him a bit. “No,” he said with only a slight flavoring of bitterness in his voice. “Maybe I won’t be nice this time. Being nice doesn’t seem to be getting me anywhere in life.”

  Lauren couldn’t speak. Tim had never been so cold, so honest before, and it hurt her to know that she’d hurt him.

  Lucas interrupted. “Now that’s settled between the two of you, we need to help out the sheriff whether he wants it or not before this mess with Thatcher drags on into Thanksgiving. One man cannot worry about a little girl, guard Thatcher and solve a crime at the same time.”

  “I agree. As a crime writer, I know a few things. We need to expedite the conclusion.”

  Lauren remained silent. Pop was not going to like them interfering, but if she didn’t go along with Tim and Lucas, there was no telling what mess they might step into.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “YOU AWAKE, RANGER?” Thatcher whispered. “Something’s wrong outside. It’s too quiet.”

  “I’m awake and I agree. I heard a car turn off the road about five minutes ago.” Cody’s voice was stone-cold alert.

  Thatcher had no doubt Cody already had his rifle pointed at the door.

  “I thought I heard it, too. From the sounds, they circled around and parked behind the corrals. I’m guessing they’re coming in on foot through the barn.” Thatcher had grown up listening to the sounds of the night. “You think we’re about to be attacked, Ranger?” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice.

  “I know we are. Slip on my boots and grab my coat.” Cody moved from his bed to the far wall, where he could see every window. The slight tapping of one crutch was the only sound.

  Thatcher did exactly as he was told. The coat was way too big, but the boots almost fit him.

  “I need you to follow orders.” The ranger wasn’t asking, he was telling. “Stay low. I want you to crawl to the bedroom. There’s a .22 behind the door, and it’s loaded. It won’t be much help in a fight, but it will sound an alarm if you’re in trouble. Can you do all that?”

  “I can.” Thatcher’s nerves were popcorning out of his skin. He was about to be involved in a shoot-out. Holy cow!

  Cody’s voice was low and steady. “Next, wake Tess. Say exactly this or she won’t go. Tell her to get you out the bathroom window on the far side of the house, and the two of you run for my pickup parked in the back shed. You got that?”

  Thatcher thought of arguing, but the ranger didn’t sound like he wanted a discussion.

  As Thatcher moved, Cody kept up his low orders. “When you hear the first shot, start the truck and press full throttle when you put it in Drive. You’ll fly out the back of the shed and be halfway to the road before they’ll have time to glance in your direction.”

  “I can stay and help fight,” Thatcher whispered back. “I’m one hell of a shot, Ranger.”

  “No. You’re who they are after. I can’t run with this leg, so I’ll keep them busy here. You get your ass and Tess out of range as fast as possible, then call the sheriff. He’ll find a way to get to me.”

  “Tess isn’t going to like leaving you,” Thatcher whispered as he began to crawl across the floor toward the bedroom door.

  “Tell her it’s standard procedure. One stands guard. One protects the witness.”

  “I could double back?” Thatcher was at the closed bedroom door. “Once I get her to safety, of course.”

  “Not necessary,” Cody said so calmly Thatcher believed him.

  Thatcher disappeared into the bedroom. The rifle was exactly where Cody said it would be. The weapon felt good in his hand. He couldn’t see himself firing it in a gunfight, but a few shots might send anyone within hearing distance running.

  With a quick shake of her arm, he woke Tess and told her what was happened. “It may be nothing outside but a stray coyote,” Thatcher lied. “The ranger just wants us to take precautions. If a shot is fired, we’ll be out and safe before a round is fired in answer.”

  Tess nodded and slipped on her boots as she grabbed her cell. She didn’t look too official in her flannel pajamas with elk footprints in the designs, but at least she’d be able to move fast. Without a coat, she slipped out the bathroom window and followed him across the silent night.

  “It’s probably nothing,” he whispered.

  “I know,” she said.

  Both kept low, folded at the waist. They moved with their feet making a swishing noise as they brushed across the earth, one that sounded more like tall grass in the wind than footsteps. They ran even with each other so their shadows blended.

  Fifty feet from the back of the house was a two-car garage, built tall to handle large pickups. Of course, it wasn’t locked. They slipped through the small door, which faced away from the
main house, and climbed into a huge Dodge made for rough roads. Thatcher took the wheel and passed her the rifle.

  He was so excited he felt like he might just jump out of his own skin and take off running with only muscles and bones. Tess, on the other hand, was calm. She checked the rifle to make sure it was loaded.

  All was silent inside the garage. It was dark except for the sliver of moonlight shining from the slightly open door. The truck faced away from the house, and the garage door was still down. They could see nothing. Hear nothing.

  The men coming after Thatcher could be sneaking up to the house right now. There might be more than two this time. There might be five or six or even more.

  “We need to go back and help the ranger,” he whispered.

  “No,” Tess answered. “These were his orders. My job is to protect you, and the best way to do that is to get you away safely.” She sounded like she was quoting from a rule book, not doing what she wanted to do. “If you hear a shot, your orders are to turn on the truck and go right through the back of this garage. We’ve no time to back up. That might give someone time to fire at us.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Thatcher answered, wondering when he’d joined the service. But, in the past, any time he thought he was in danger, his plan was always to run. So this plan went along with his own. Now he might be doing it in a truck that looked like it was powerful enough to cross the Alps. Not that he’d ever seen the Alps. Hell, at the rate his life was going, he might not even see daylight.

  She was silent for a moment, then answered, “It’s Miss. I’m not married.”

  Thatcher tried to make out her face in the darkness. Was she confessing something or just trying to distract him from mentally writing his will? “The sheriff told me you were. You’re married to the ranger.”

  “No, it’s just a joke Cody started the night I found him in the canyon. I heard he even told the nurse I was his wife. I guess he just wanted kin around.”

  Thatcher thought about it in the silence. “No, ma’am. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve heard the way you two fight. You’re married.”