“But you are aware that the Chaparral Ranch has been experiencing some problems.”
“That’s a damned fool remark! You bet your ass I’m aware of it! I run purebred Herefords up here. I don’t want any of their Angus bulls over here breeding my cows! I don’t want my fences cut or my cattle straying off their home range! I’m sick of Cantrell problems turning into mine!”
His icy eyes were now spitting fire, making it clear to Rosalinda that he was a passionate man.
“I can appreciate that,” she told him.
“Somehow I doubt that.” As quickly as it flared, the anger disappeared from his face. “The Cantrells are an old, established family around here. They’re known and loved by a lot of folks. I’m still considered a Texan, an interloper. Nobody gives a damn what happens on the the Pine Ridge Ranch.”
She turned a thoughtful gaze toward the busy ranch yard. “Frankie Cantrell, Quint’s mother, is from Texas. In fact, she’s back there now visiting her older sons. Did you know that?”
“Is that question a part of your investigation?”
“No. Just my curiosity.”
A disapproving groove appeared between his brows, and Rosalinda got the impression he wasn’t used to having personal questions directed at him. And suddenly she was wondering about far more than his feelings toward the Cantrells or their adjoining land. This ranch was even more remote than the Chaparral and he’d already admitted that he lived here alone. Outside of raising cattle and horses, what did he do for companionship?
Apparently deciding she was simply talking as one person to another, he said, “Yes, we’re both from Texas. Back there I lived on my parents’ ranch, the Rocking P, just west of Austin. But Mrs. Cantrell said she’d lived in the southeast, in Goliad County, and we’d never met before I moved here.”
“What made you want to come to New Mexico?”
“To make a place of my own. And I like this area.”
“It’s a far distance from Austin,” she stated the obvious.
“That’s one of the reasons I like it,” he said flatly.
Which could only mean he’d left something behind there, Rosalinda decided. The same way she’d left a part of her life behind in Gallop. But none of that had anything to do with the present.
“Well, concerning the fire, Mr. Pickens, do you have any reason to think one, or more, of your hands might have set the blaze?”
Expecting him to lash out again, he surprised her by shrugging. “All my men have been with me for several years now. They’re good, dependable guys.”
Folding his arms against his chest, he turned toward her and Rosalinda’s gaze was drawn to the fabric stretched across his biceps, the cuffs rolled against his corded forearms. “Don’t get me wrong, Deputy Lightfoot. There’ve been squabbles among my hands. Throw ten men together for eight, ten, twelve hours a day and eventually there’ll be friction. But nothing serious between them and the Chaparral hands.”
“Do you know if any of them are buddies with Chaparral hands?”
“Not that I’m aware of. You’d have to ask them.”
She nodded. “Well, I would like to speak with your men. Ask them a few questions,” she told him.
“If you want to talk with Gib, you’ll find him in the kitchen. The rest you should find down there.” He jerked his head in the direction of the ranch yard. “But I wouldn’t expect any confessions,” he added wryly.
She shot him a cool smile. “I’m not expecting confessions, Mr. Pickens. I’m looking for pieces of information that will tell me the comings and goings of your men prior to the fire.”
She drew a card from her jeans pocket and handed it to him. “Here’s my name and a sheriff’s department number where you can reach me. If you think of anything that might be helpful in this matter, don’t hesitate to call.”
He took the card and without looking at it, stuffed the piece of paper into the pocket on his shirt. “I’ll do that.”
Extending her hand to him, she said, “Thank you, Mr. Pickens. I, or someone with the department, will keep you informed.”
“I would appreciate that,” he said.
He took her hand again, only this time he didn’t shake it, he simply held it. Heat swam beneath the surface of her cheeks, and Rosalinda felt a strange current pulling her toward the rancher.
Disturbed by the sensation, Rosalinda withdrew her hand and stepped off the ground-level porch. As she strode to her truck, she felt his gaze following her, but she didn’t look back to confirm her feelings. For now, she’d seen enough of Tyler Pickens.
Chapter Two
Back on the porch, Tyler picked up the deputy’s empty cup and entered the house. In the kitchen he found Gib cleaning up the aftermath of their breakfast.
Upon hearing Tyler’s footsteps, the older man, who possessed a head full of snow-white hair and a brown, leathery face, glanced over his shoulder to study him with faded blue eyes. “That was short and sweet.”
Short? Tyler felt as though his time on the porch with Ms. Lightfoot had stretched into hours instead of a few minutes. As for the sweet, he couldn’t deny the deputy had caught his attention. Not with her words, but with her looks.
He didn’t know what the hell had just happened to him. He wasn’t interested in women in that way. Not since DeeDee. She’d torn a hole right down the center of his dreams, his hopes and everything he’d planned for his future. She’d driven a wedge between him and his family and ripped his world apart in the process. Because of DeeDee, the thought of any woman these past ten years had chilled him. Yet something about Rosalinda Lightfoot had snared every masculine cell in his body and had him staring at her like a damned fool.
“She didn’t have that many questions.” He dropped the cup into a sink of sudsy water. “I tried to tell her she’s wasting her time questioning me and my men.”
Gib walked over to a round wooden table and gathered up a handful of condiments. “Is she?”
His mind still swirling with the image of the woman’s long, dark hair, chocolate-brown eyes and soft pink lips, Tyler looked at his longtime friend and employee.
“Are you implying that one of us is an arsonist?”
The crevices around Gib’s mouth curved downward toward his chin. “Sometimes people are good at hiding things about themselves.”
Gib Easton had once worked on the Rocking P for Tyler’s father, Warren, but when Tyler had decided to make the move to New Mexico, the man had chosen to accompany him here to this mountain ranch. Gib had been one of the few people who’d clearly seen that Warren Pickens played favorites with his twin sons and that Tyler had always ended up with the short straw. He’d always been grateful for Gib’s support. Now their years together had made Gib the one man Tyler could completely trust.
“That’s true,” Tyler admitted. “But I have faith in my men.”
“Art and Joey were riding fence in that area yesterday. Sawyer told me that much.”
“Think about it, Gib. Can you picture those two carrying jugs of gasoline on their horses? Not likely.”
The older man cocked a curious brow at him. “Gas was used to start the fire?”
Clearly annoyed with himself for letting a woman rattle him, Tyler muttered, “Damn it, I don’t know. Deputy Lightfoot said some sort of accelerant was used. I just assumed it was gasoline.”
Gib crossed the room and shoved the salt and pepper shakers onto a cabinet shelf. “What else did she say?”
Pausing at the table, Tyler glanced out the glass patio doors situated a few steps away. From this angle, he could see the deputy’s truck parked near the main barn, but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. Nor were any of his ranch hands. She probably had them gathered in the barn. Or maybe she was cagey enough to talk to each of them independently. Either way, Tyler could imagine how the men woul
d react to her. She was as sexy as hell. The kind of woman that made a man think of long, pleasurable nights.
“She wanted to know if I was angry enough at Quint Cantrell to want to burn his land.”
Comical confusion wrinkled the older man’s features. “Where did she get that idea? Quint is a friend. At least, he’s always appeared to be friendly.”
“Because Quint wouldn’t sell me that tract of land near the river she thinks I might have wanted revenge.”
Gib shook his head. “Why, that was more than two years ago. Took you a damned long time to retaliate.”
Tyler sighed. “It’s her job to ask questions. She’s down at the ranch yard now with the men.”
“And you didn’t go with her?” Gib was clearly aghast. “Those guys will eat her up.”
“I wasn’t invited. Besides, I have a feeling Deputy Lightfoot can handle herself.” And if he got wind that even one man was rude to her, he’d personally punch him out. He wouldn’t tolerate his men behaving in any way less than respectable.
“I hope you’re right,” Gib replied.
Tyler walked over to a corner of the room and after plucking his cowboy hat from a hall tree, he levered the gray felt onto his head. “I have to go to town, so I won’t be here for lunch.”
Gib’s voice followed him as he strode to the door. “You know what people think of you, Ty. They think you’re trouble.”
Tyler’s jaw tightened. Yeah, he was trouble, he thought bitterly. All he’d ever done in his life was try to walk the straight and narrow, to do the right thing no matter what it cost. And it had cost him one hell of a lot.
“I don’t give a damn what people think,” Tyler muttered.
“Not here. But back in Texas...”
“Was a lifetime ago, Gib. That doesn’t matter.” He paused at the open doorway long enough to cast the cook a pointed look. “If you’re worried my reputation is going to get you in trouble, you don’t have to hang around and wait for the axe to fall. You going back to the Rocking P would give Dad one more reason to gloat.”
“Gloat, hell! Warren Pickens will never see this old man again. Dead or alive.” The older man shoved his hands into the soapy water and began to scrub a plate. “My home is here with you. Is that settled?”
This was the perfect time to tell Gib just how grateful he was for his unwavering loyalty, Tyler thought. But he’d never learned to actually form the sentiments in his heart into words. He’d always believed in letting his actions speak for his feelings. While his twin brother had been exactly the opposite. He’d had a gift of gab and affectionate phrases had rolled off his tongue like molasses off a hot biscuit. And they’d meant little more.
“It’s settled,” Tyler said, then moved to the older man and clasped his shoulder briefly. “I’ll be back by midafternoon.”
Minutes later, Tyler was driving through a section of road where flames had eaten grass and underbrush right up to the edge of the bar ditch. Slowing the truck, he stared with disgust at the soot-covered ground, the charred tree trunks. The person responsible needed to be choked to within an inch of his life, just to show him how the wildlife felt when they were being consumed with smoke and running for their lives.
But he wasn’t going to hold out much hope that the sheriff’s department would find the culprit. Unless they’d found plenty of worthwhile clues at the origin of the fire. And if that had been the case, Deputy Lightfoot hadn’t let on. No, she’d been wasting time with useless questions about his feelings toward the Cantrells.
Trying not to think about Rosalinda Lightfoot, he pressed down on the accelerator. After rounding a sharp bend in the road, he spotted a Chaparral truck parked at the edge of the narrow dirt path. Seeing Laramie Jones sitting beneath the steering wheel, Tyler pulled alongside the vehicle and stopped. As he rolled down his window, Laramie did the same.
“Out surveying the damage?” Tyler asked the dark-haired cowboy. Laramie had been the foreman of the huge neighboring ranch for far longer than Tyler had lived in New Mexico.
He shot Tyler a weary grin. “Could’ve been worse.”
“Amen to that. You lose any cattle?”
“No,” Laramie answered. “What about yourself?”
“One cow cut her leg, that’s all,” Tyler told him. “She must have spooked and bolted through the fence. Thankfully, most of the herd was up on a higher range last night.”
“That’s good,” Laramie replied.
Was the other man thinking how convenient that sounded? Tyler wondered. Was Laramie part of the group that considered him to be nothing but trouble? He didn’t want to think so. Laramie Jones was one of the few men who had befriended him since he’d moved here.
I don’t give a damn what people think.
Tyler’s outburst to Gib a few minutes ago hadn’t been completely true, he thought. He didn’t mind if people considered him cocky, or hot-tempered or a weird recluse. Those were trivial and sometimes even accurate descriptions of him. But the idea that anyone might consider him a criminal was another matter completely.
“A deputy is up at the ranch right now questioning my men.” Pulling off his dark aviator glasses, he looked directly at the foreman. “If any of them had anything to do with this, Laramie, I want them to be severely punished.”
“I have no doubts about that. A couple of deputies are at our place, too. Let’s hope they get to the bottom of this. And quick.”
Tyler released a heavy breath. “So how is Quint taking all this? Last night when we were moving cattle I didn’t see him around.”
“He’s angry and worried. That’s how he’s taking it. His wife, Maura, is pregnant and last night she was so upset over the fire that I convinced him to stay with her and let the rest of us men handle the cattle.”
From what Tyler understood, the baby was going to be Quint’s third child, coming after two young sons. In all honesty, Tyler had to admit he was envious of the man. At one time in his life he’d wanted children desperately. More than anything, he’d wanted to be a father and raise his children far from the stranglehold Warren Pickens had placed upon him. But DeeDee hadn’t wanted to be a mother. Hell, after less than a year of being married, she’d not even wanted to be his wife. She’d wanted to have fun and enjoy herself. And Tyler’s twin, Trent, had been more than eager and willing to show her a good time.
Now, nearly ten years later, Tyler fought to forget how he’d bent over backward to please his young but fickle wife. In the end, she’d not been worth his efforts and all his trying had made him look like an even bigger fool. Especially with his father continually taunting him with warnings that Trent was the man DeeDee really loved. And as it turned out, Warren’s stinging predictions had come true. In the end, DeeDee had divorced him and married Trent. Not only that, the two of them had moved in to the very house that Tyler had originally built for himself and his wife.
Hell, what was he doing thinking about DeeDee or Trent at a time like this? Tyler wondered, as he gave himself a mental shake. He didn’t give a damn about either one of them. They deserved each other.
Putting the truck into gear, he said, “Well, you and Quint have my number. If either of you need me for anything, just call.”
“Thanks.”
Tyler lifted a hand in farewell and put the truck into motion. A quarter of a mile down the road, his cell phone rang and seeing the caller was his foreman, he quickly answered. “Yeah, Sawyer?”
“Sorry to bother you, Ty. But you’d better get back here to the ranch. Quick.”
Tyler bit back a sigh of frustration. Sawyer was a competent man. He didn’t annoy Tyler with trivial problems, so clearly something had to be wrong. “What the hell has happened now?”
“It’s that deputy. Seems as though Santo didn’t take too kindly to some of her questions. He blew his stack and told her he’d taken
feed sacks, a jug of kerosene and a cigarette lighter down to the property line and set the fire. Said he’d wanted to burn every damned Cantrell to a crisp! Now she’s about to haul him to jail!”
Muttering a curse under his breath, he promptly jammed on the brakes and wheeled the truck around in the middle of the road. “Stall her if you can! I’ll be right there.”
When Tyler reached the ranch yard he instantly spotted Santo standing at the front of the deputy’s vehicle with his hands cuffed behind his back. Sawyer and two other cowboys were standing several yards away, anxiously watching the scene unfold. Instead of worrying that his men might cross the line with the pretty deputy, Tyler realized he should’ve been more concerned about her taking advantage of his men.
After braking the truck to a jarring halt, Tyler leaped to the ground. He trotted over to where Deputy Lightfoot was speaking on a two-way radio affixed to the dashboard of her truck.
He waited until she leaned across the seat to hang the mike back on its holder before lashing out at her. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Slowly turning from the vehicle, she fastened a look of warning on him. “That should be clear to you. I’m taking your employee into custody.”
Tyler would be the first to turn over any man on this ranch if he was guilty. But the only thing Santo would set a match to was a candle when he said a prayer. “That’s stupid! Santo hasn’t done anything!”
Her lips pressed tightly together as her dark brown eyes leveled a pointed look at him and at that moment the odd thought of kissing her shot through his mind. What would it feel like to pry those lips of hers apart and feel the soft skin of her cheek pressed against his?
Her voice suddenly interrupted his wandering thoughts. “Mr. Pickens, I suggest you let the law do its job. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a pair of handcuffs.”
He didn’t know whether to burst out laughing or curse. “If you haul Santo to jail, you’ll be making a huge mistake.”
The Deputy Gets Her Man Page 2