Matt

by R. C. Ryan

  “I know. But as soon as the trial ends, so will the threat to you.”

  “Well, that’s our hope.” She met his look with a clear eye. “Unless, of course, DePietro has ordered revenge regardless of the outcome.”

  Matt clasped her hand. “In that case, we’ll keep on working until all of his men are caught and rendered useless.”

  She glanced at their hands. “Thanks, Matt. You’re a good influence on me. I’m almost ready to believe you.”

  “Believe me.” He held her hand a moment longer, closing it between both of his and giving her a long, lingering look before catching the reins and holding them while she mounted.

  When he was in the saddle, he kept Beau alongside Ginger as they crossed the meadow in silence and made their way to the barn.

  Once inside, as Matt turned their horses into stalls and added feed and water to their troughs, Vanessa sank down on a bale of hay and thought about what had just happened.

  She thought she would be safe here because of the isolation of this vast ranch. But even here, someone had managed to find her, and had been watching for a chance to do her harm. Unless, of course, the sheriff could find another plausible explanation.

  And if she wasn’t safe here, then where?

  She shivered.

  She wanted to believe that Matt and his family could offer her a refuge. But somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind was the thread of fear that an evil man, on trial in Chicago, had already found a way to carry out his threat.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As they stepped from the barn, Matt could see the sheriff’s car parked near the back door. A ranch truck came into view. Behind the wheel was Frank, with Gracie beside him in the passenger seat.

  Matt took Vanessa’s hand and strolled leisurely toward the house, hoping to give the sheriff time to speak privately to his grandparents, without fear of Vanessa overhearing.

  The three were standing on the back porch, heads bent in quiet conversation.

  As he drew near, Matt called out, “Sheriff? Any news?”

  The lawman shook his head.

  Matt’s eyes narrowed slightly on his grandfather. “You cut your date short?”

  Frank shrugged. “When Eugene called us with the news, we decided we’d rather enjoy Yancy’s dinner than whatever Dot and Barb were offering at the diner.”

  Matt held the door while the others trooped inside, where Yancy was frosting a four-layer torte.

  The cook looked up in surprise. “You’re back early.” He looked beyond Frank and Gracie to add, “Hello, Sheriff.”

  “Yancy.” Eugene Graystoke removed his Stetson. “You see any vehicles around here today?”

  Yancy glanced from the sheriff to Matt, who stood slightly behind his grandparents. “Has something happened?”

  “Nessa and I spotted a car up in the hills. It had darkened windows, so we couldn’t see inside.”

  Vanessa was worrying the cuff of her shirt. The only sign of agitation.

  Yancy shook his head. “I didn’t see a thing. Didn’t hear anything, either. Could they have driven in from the Interstate?”

  “Not likely.” Matt frowned. “But they could have taken a back road, if they knew the area well enough.”

  Eugene sighed. “I knew it was a long shot. If they’re checking out the ranch, they wouldn’t be careless enough to be seen from the house. But the fact that you spotted them, Matt, tells me they may not know a whole lot about just how sprawling your ranch is. They may have thought they could conceal themselves in the woods and watch all the comings and goings from a safe distance. I’d bet money they weren’t expecting you to come riding in practically on top of them.”

  He turned to Frank. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Burke and the boys up in the hills. They may have seen something unusual.”

  Frank nodded. “You want to call them or head on up there?”

  Eugene thought a minute. “No sense riding all that way when a call can let them know what I’m after, as long as they happen to be in an area that has phone service. I’d like everyone here, including your wranglers guarding the herds in hill country, to report anything out of the ordinary.”

  Frank clapped a hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. “Consider it done.”

  Eugene headed for the door. “I’ll make that call outside.” He paused and looked at Vanessa. “I’m sorry this adds to your distress, Miss Kettering. I hope you know I’m doing everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  “I know that, Sheriff.” She managed a smile. “And I appreciate all your help.”

  When the sheriff stepped outside, she turned to Matt’s grandparents. “I’m so sorry this caused you to cut your date short.”

  Gracie squeezed her hand. “Frankie and I have had more dates than we can count.” She shot a quick glance at her husband before adding, “On the way home, we talked about my next trek to the hills.”

  Matt raised an eyebrow. “You just got back.”

  “But I came back early because of the weather. Just look at all that sunshine. With new foals arriving, the mustangs will be forced to stay in one place for a while, until the mares and their newborns are able to travel. This is the perfect time for me to set up my gear and chronicle the new life cycle.”

  His grandmother exchanged a glance with her husband before turning to Vanessa. “I’d say it’s the perfect opportunity for you, too. Now that you’re not on any sort of timetable, how would you like to accompany me into the hills and immerse yourself in the life of wild horses?”

  Vanessa’s eyes widened with excitement. “You wouldn’t mind having me along?”

  “I’d welcome the company. But I need to warn you about a few things. I travel light, and it’s pretty primitive up there. I can’t count on the herd stopping near one of our cabins or shelters at night. I cook over a campfire and sleep under the stars, unless the weather turns. Then I sleep in my truck.”

  “But I’d get to see the mustangs up close?”

  “As close as they’ll allow. You may get to witness a birth or two. And sometimes a death. Just remember, this is nature, raw and natural. It won’t be pretty and airbrushed. It can be wonderful, but it can also be heartbreakingly brutal.”

  “I understand. When do we leave?”

  Gracie gave a laugh of delight. “Oh, what fun to have a traveling companion who’s young and eager. Let’s shoot for tomorrow morning. Unless Mother Nature decides otherwise.”

  “I’ll go up and pack now.”

  “Remember. We travel light. I prefer to dress in layers. You’ll need a parka and boots for chilly or rainy mornings and nights, and something for warm afternoons. We sleep in our clothes, and we have to be prepared to head out whenever the herd starts moving.”

  As Vanessa started up the stairs, Matt remained in the kitchen. His voice was low. “You think it’s wise to do this now?”

  “I can’t think of a better time.” Gracie linked hands with her husband. “Frankie and I discussed it on the way home. If someone is targeting our houseguest, it’s too late to keep her presence here a secret. But it would be almost impossible for them to find her in those hills.”

  “They found her today, while riding across the meadow.”

  “That could have been an accident. As Eugene pointed out, they may have thought they could hide out in the woods and watch the ranch. They may have been caught completely by surprise when you and Vanessa spotted them.”

  “Maybe.” His eyes narrowed. “But I don’t like the idea of you and Nessa alone in the hills.”

  She touched a hand to his arm. “I feel quite certain that you and Frankie will see to it that we’re never completely alone.”

  He smiled then and felt his tense shoulders relax. “You’re a sly one, Gracie Malloy.”

  “I just happen to know my men.” She turned away. “Yancy, I’m really looking forward to tasting that torte after dinner.”

  The old man smiled. “I’ll see there’s enough left over to send along
with you on your trek tomorrow.”

  “That would be grand.”

  As she and Frank walked away, Matt let himself out of the house and made his way to the barn.

  There he did what he always did when his mind was troubled. He chose a pitchfork from a hook along the wall and began mucking stalls.

  There was nothing like hard, physical work to free him to turn a problem over and over until he’d looked at it from every possible angle.

  He and his family, along with all the wranglers, would have to form a protective ring around the two women while keeping just out of sight. Not an easy thing anywhere, but especially in the wilderness. With mustangs, there was no set pattern. No trail or path. They moved at the whim of nature and their stallion leader.

  Still, it had to be done. If a vehicle could breach the safety of their isolated ranch, it made sense to take Vanessa high in the hills, and hope it was enough to discourage anyone bent on evil from following.

  He paused to clench a fist. He would move heaven and earth to keep Gracie and Vanessa safe, while still leaving them free to savor their journey into the wild.

  Vanessa studied the meager clothes in her closet. It wouldn’t be difficult making a decision about what to take along on her trek to the wilderness.

  The wilderness.

  Grinning wildly, she did a quick little turn. Oh, how she wanted to share this news with her father. She’d actually fished out her cell phone before it dawned on her that she could no longer indulge in that lovely ritual. Always, she’d enjoyed sharing every bit of good news with him, before calling her friends, especially her best friend, Lauren. Lauren McCotter, who’d been her BFF since kindergarten.

  Though she and Lauren had followed very different career paths, they managed to meet at least once a week or so, either for morning coffee or a drink after work, to catch up on each other’s life. They had a shared history that was a tighter bond than that of sisters. Lauren was the sister she’d never had.

  She sat down on the edge of the bed, fighting a sudden ache around her heart. The reality of her situation hit her with all the force of a physical blow. She’d been cut off from everything that was familiar and comfortable. Her father. Her friends. The people she worked with. And all because some madman, who thought himself above the law, was willing to do whatever it took to stay out of prison.

  She felt a rush of love for her father, knowing how he must be torn between his duty to the people who trusted him to prosecute such men, and his fierce need to protect his only child. How he must be suffering as he went about his daily routine, keeping his feelings carefully hidden beneath a façade of cool reserve.

  Through the years she’d watched him handle the media after a sensational criminal case. He’d earned a reputation for being low-key and thoroughly professional. One investigative reporter, eager to earn his stripes by breaking through that wall of reserve, had, after a particularly grueling interview, given Elliott Kettering the nickname Iceman.

  It pained Nessa to see the man she adored misunderstood and ridiculed. But, as he’d reminded her often, it came with the territory. The district attorney of any large city was fair game for criticism. As her father said, he was damned if he won a high-profile trial and damned if he lost. And always, he was suspected of hoping to use his position to move on to higher office, even when that wasn’t the case at all.

  And now this threat to her safety was just another price to be paid.

  As Elliott Kettering’s daughter, she needed to be as strong as he’d always been.

  She stood and paced to the window. She would put aside her fears and get through this. And what better way to spend her time than with Grace Malloy, one of the most respected researchers in the field of wild horses?

  Spotting movement outside the barn, she watched as Matt led a horse toward a corral. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Everything about the man exuded strength and confidence and purpose. The way he walked, those long strides matching that of the horse. The slow, easy lift of his hand as he removed the lead rope and ran an open palm over the horse’s muzzle.

  She gave an involuntary shiver, and thought about his hands holding her, touching her.

  He was the epitome of a Western hero. All muscle and strength and easy charm. And ever since their uncomfortable introduction, she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  She’d thought, earlier today, that he had chosen that isolated area near the stream for his own advantage. And when he’d kissed her, she’d been certain of it. But then he’d been the one to step back from that ever-so-tempting edge and suggest they return to the ranch. She’d actually had a moment of keen disappointment before coming to her senses.

  He’d been right, of course. They needed to keep this on a purely professional level.

  Maybe she was just a little annoyed that he’d been the first to do the sensible thing, when in the past she’d always assumed that role. Or maybe she was suffering some regret that they couldn’t have let the passion they were feeling play out to its logical conclusion. If so, she didn’t want to probe this too deeply.

  She huffed out a breath. And hadn’t she once again spent way too much time thinking about Matt Malloy?

  She crossed her arms over her chest, turned away, and walked to the closet.

  Time to make a decision about what to pack for tomorrow’s grand adventure. She was traveling to the wilderness to see, up close and personal, a herd of wild horses. While she and Gracie were alone together, she would have plenty of time to interview the foremost authority on how mustangs lived and how they survived.

  And when she returned to Chicago, and later to DC, she could report back to the wildlife organizations she represented how to make the lives of these beautiful creatures safer and better.

  This was a rare opportunity, one she’d never dreamed possible, and she planned on making the most of it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time Vanessa descended the stairs for dinner, she could hear muted voices in the kitchen. She walked in to find everybody gathered around the fireplace, enjoying drinks and appetizers. Even Colin, Luke, and Reed, as well as Burke, were there, fresh from their duties with the herds. It was obvious from the look of them that they’d barely had time to shower and change. Their faces were heavily bearded, their hair in need of a trim.

  Yancy held a tray of drinks for her inspection.

  “Thank you.” She accepted a glass of wine and turned to the others.

  Reed, heavily bearded, shaggy hair tied back in a ponytail, his well-worn denims faded and torn, had the look of an Old West gunslinger as he turned to her. “I hear you’re about to go on one of Gram Gracie’s famous wilderness treks.”

  Vanessa’s smile widened. “I can’t wait.”

  “It shows. You look like a kid at Christmas.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  Nelson, enjoying his martini, eyed her over the rim of his glass. “I can’t imagine a fashionable, big-city lawyer like you climbing over mountains and slopping through muddy fields just to get close to a bunch of smelly creatures.”

  “Where’s your romance, Dad?” Grace touched a hand to his arm. “If you were directing Vanessa in a film, you’d have soft music playing in the background while she danced through a field of wildflowers.”

  Something about her words had Matt lifting his head to stare at Vanessa through narrowed eyes.

  Nelson nodded. “I would indeed. Beautiful women in fields of wildflowers sell movies. But I was never fooled by what I was doing. Movies are pretend. You’re taking her into the harshness of the real world, Gracie Anne.” He turned to Frank. “Of course, there was a time when I couldn’t imagine a daughter of mine living on a ranch, let alone climbing all over Hell’s Half Acre chasing wild animals.”

  “And now, you’re living on a ranch yourself, Great One.” Luke tipped up his longneck and drank, while the others shared smiles.

  “True enough.” Nelson set aside his empty glass. “It took some getting used
to. But I have to say, Yancy’s fine food and excellent martini skills have made the transition smooth enough.” He looked around at his daughter and son-in-law, his grandson Colin, and then at his three great-grandsons, all of them rugged and handsome enough to have been leading men in his films. He gave one of those lazy, satisfied smiles. “Not that being with all of you hasn’t been enough reward. But there’s something to be said for fine food and liquor.”

  “Spoken like a true Hollywood icon,” Luke drawled.

  Burke accepted a longneck and, as was his custom, stood just outside the circle of family, like a guardian angel watching and listening in silence.

  When Yancy announced that dinner was ready, they moved across the room, settling comfortably at the big harvest table.

  Luke held a huge platter while his great-grandfather helped himself to a chicken breast. The others at the table easily passed around a Caesar salad, tiny new garden peas, and a basket of sourdough rolls fresh from the oven.

  Nelson took a first bite and turned to the cook with a look of absolute delight. “Chicken cordon bleu?”

  Yancy grinned. “You’ve been talking about it for weeks now. I figured it was time I took the hint.”

  “But this is—” the old man took a second bite and closed his eyes for a moment “—exactly the way they served it at the Brasseri.”

  Yancy couldn’t hide his pleasure. “Glad to hear I nailed it.”

  “More than. Oh, this takes me back…”

  Around the table the family shared knowing looks. They had no doubt they were about to be entertained by the Great One’s memories of a bygone Hollywood.

  “Anthony would pick me up in the limousine at exactly six o’clock. We would drive to the Brasseri, and Marcel, my favorite waiter, would set a martini in front of me the moment I was seated in a booth.”

  “Always a booth, and never a table,” Luke explained to Vanessa.

  “Exactly right. Tables were for the tourists who came in to stare at celebrities. Or for the gossip columnists,” he added with a trace of contempt, “who spent a fortune tipping the waiters for any hint of scandal they could reveal in their rags.”