by Cindi Myers
When he was a few feet away, he tucked the gun into a holster on his right hip. “Are you all right, Asteria?” he asked.
She nodded, her gaze focused on the ground.
Metwater turned his attention to Kayla and Dylan. “If you want to talk to me or one of my followers, it isn’t necessary to sneak around outside the camp,” he said. “We have nothing to hide.”
“What are you doing with that gun?” Dylan asked. “I thought you preached nonviolence.”
“As the unfortunate events of yesterday prove, the wilderness is not as safe a place as it would seem,” he said. “And before you ask, we’ve had hordes of officers swarming over the camp searching for weapons. They have already examined this particular gun and determined it isn’t the same caliber as the one that killed Agent Asher. And they haven’t found any other guns among my followers.”
“Why do you need a gun if you don’t allow your followers to be armed?” Dylan asked.
“It is my job to protect my people.”
“Have you been threatened in any way?” Dylan asked. “Have there been other incidents you haven’t reported to the police?”
“No.” He took Andi’s arm and pulled her toward him. “Come back to camp now,” he said. “You must be tired. You need to rest.”
Kayla’s skin crawled as she watched any hint of the young woman’s personality vanish in Metwater’s shadow. “Andi, you don’t have to go with him if you don’t want,” she said.
“No, it’s fine,” Andi said. “My place is with him. With the Family.”
Metwater fixed his gaze on Kayla, an intense scrutiny that made her feel naked and exposed. “You fear us because you don’t understand us,” he said. “You don’t understand the security and refuge I offer my followers. We are having a special ceremony this evening to welcome a new Family member. I’m inviting you both to attend. It will help you to understand us better.”
“All right, we’ll be there.” Dylan took Kayla’s arm and squeezed it, cutting off her protest. She had no desire to spend any more time than necessary with Metwater and his followers, but if Dylan thought attending the ceremony would help in the investigation, she was willing to play along.
“Come along, Asteria.” Metwater prepared to lead Andi away.
“Ms. Matheson, when was the last time you spoke to your father?” Dylan asked.
Andi stumbled. Only Metwater’s grasp on her arm kept her from falling. She looked over her shoulder at Dylan. “My father?”
“Yes. When was the last time you were in contact with him?”
“Months ago,” she said. “We haven’t spoken since I joined the Family.”
“You haven’t heard from him recently, in the past few days?”
“She told you she hasn’t,” Metwater said. “We’re leaving now. We’ll see you both this evening. Come at dusk and someone will be waiting to escort you to the ceremony.”
“Andi, have you heard from your father in the past few days?” Dylan asked again.
She shook her head. “No.”
“I’m sorry to have to tell you he’s missing.”
Andi’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t know anything about that.” Then she turned and, holding Metwater’s hand, walked away.
Kayla frowned after her. Dylan nudged her. “Let’s get out of here.”
Neither of them spoke as they made their way back to Dylan’s Cruiser, but once they were inside the vehicle, he turned to her. “Does it strike you as cold that Andi didn’t react to news of her father’s disappearance? She certainly cried buckets over Frank Asher.”
Kayla nodded. “Something was off about her reaction—maybe because Metwater was there.”
“But we’re talking about her father. Her only living parent.”
“I wouldn’t necessarily have much of a reaction if you told me my father was missing,” she said. Her father had been missing from her life—or at least, the fatherly part of him had—for as long as she could remember. “I don’t think that makes me a horrible person.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He started the Cruiser and pulled out of the parking area, his face grim. Kayla turned away, staring at the stark landscape. She didn’t think of her father much these days, or of any of her family, really. She was sure they seldom thought of her. Since she had refused to work with them in their con games, she had ceased to be useful to them.
Dylan guided the vehicle over the rutted BLM road to the highway, but instead of turning toward Ranger headquarters or town, he took another road that led south. “Where are you going?” Kayla asked.
“We have a few hours to kill before we have to be back at the camp for their ceremony,” he said. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”
She always had work to do, but it was nothing that wouldn’t wait. “No.”
“Then there’s someone I want you to meet.”
* * *
THE BLEAKNESS IN Kayla’s voice when she spoke of her father made Dylan want to punch something. All his life he had known he could count on his family to be there for him. He knew they loved him as surely as he knew the sun would rise tomorrow, and if he needed anything at all, his parents and siblings would move heaven and earth to help him. Kayla didn’t have that kind of reassurance, and knowing that made him sick at heart.
“Where are we going?” she asked again, when he turned onto the narrow county road that formed one boundary of his family’s ranch.
“I’m taking you home,” he said.
“To your home?”
“Yeah. This is my family’s ranch.” He gestured to his left, and the rolling pastureland dotted with Angus heifers and calves. They rounded a curve in the road and the main house came into view—a two-story log cabin with a green metal roof. A deep porch stretched across the front of the house, and assorted log-sided sheds and other outbuildings dotted the land around it.
Kayla sat up straighter, her back pressed against the seat as if she was trying to put as much distance as possible between herself and the house. “I don’t think we should barge in like this without calling first,” she said.
“This is my home. I don’t have to call before I show up.” He guided the Cruiser under the iron archway that proclaimed Holt Cattle Company, and over the cattle guard, to the parking area under a trio of tall spruce.
“You live here?” She stared at the house.
He laughed. “I live in a smaller cabin on another part of the property. But I grew up here. My parents live here.”
They exited the car and a pair of Border collies shot across the yard to greet them. Kayla bent to run her hands over their wriggling bodies. “Oh, aren’t you a pretty pair!”
“Their names are Lucy and Desi,” Dylan said.
“They’re beautiful.” She grinned as both dogs fought for her attention.
“I see you’ve met our vicious guard dogs!”
They looked up from the dogs as Dylan’s parents approached. As was his habit now, Dylan found himself assessing the older couple. Dad was thinner than he had been before his heart attack three months ago, and he had a little more gray in his reddish-blond hair, but he looked good. So much better than he had when Dylan had first seen him in the hospital.
The ordeal had aged his mom, too, added a few more lines to her face, but she, too, looked stronger than she had when Dylan first came home. “Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet Kayla Larimer. Kayla, this is my mom and dad, Nancy and Bud Holt.”
Kayla straightened. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
“Good to meet you.” Bud offered his hand.
“So nice of Dylan to bring you to see us,” his mom added. Dylan could read the unasked question in her eyes. He wasn’t one for bringing women around to meet the family.
“I wanted Kayla to see the ranch,” he said,
an answer he knew wouldn’t really satisfy his mother, but she was too polite to demand more information in Kayla’s hearing.
“Well, come on in.” Bud took Kayla’s arm and escorted her toward the house. “Are you from around here?” he asked.
“I live in Montrose. I’m a private detective. Dylan and I are working a case together.”
“Are you now?” His dad’s sharp, assessing gaze made Dylan feel like the kid who had been caught sneaking out of the house his freshman year of high school.
“Where are you from originally?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, my family moved around a lot when I was growing up,” Kayla said. “I love your dogs.” She gestured toward the two pups, which had run ahead. “I’ve always heard how intelligent Border collies are.”
“Oh, they’re smart, all right,” Bud said. “Smart enough to get into all kinds of trouble if you don’t keep them busy.”
The four of them mounted the porch. At the top of the steps, Kayla turned to look out across the yard, and at the snow-capped mountains beyond. “What a gorgeous view,” she said.
“Yes. I never get tired of the view,” Bud said. “This country has a way of growing on people, I think. Pulling them back when they try to leave.”
This last comment was for Dylan’s benefit, he knew. “I missed all of this while I was in Denver,” he said. “I’m glad to be back.”
“And we’re glad to have you back,” his mother said. “Now come, sit down.” She gestured toward the grouping of chairs on the porch. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you.” Kayla perched on the edge of one of the oak rockers lined up against the front wall of the house. Dylan took the chair next to her, while his parents chose the adjacent swing that hung from the porch beams.
“What kind of case are you working on?” Bud asked. “Or can’t you say?”
“We’re investigating some goings-on that might be related to a group that’s been camping in the Curecanti Wilderness Area,” Dylan said. “Followers of a man who calls himself the Prophet.”
Bud nodded. “I heard a little about them. Sam Wilson ran into a bunch of the women at the farmers’ market last Friday. They bought a lot of his produce. He said they seemed nice. Are they causing trouble?”
“We’re not sure. Let’s just say some things have aroused our suspicions.”
Bud rested his arm along the back of the swing and gave it a gentle nudge with the toe of his boot. “There’s always a few of these types who take to the wilderness,” he said. “Back-to-the-landers or survivalists or religious zealots looking for a better way. Most of them peter out after a while when people find out how tough it really is to live without modern conveniences like indoor plumbing, refrigeration and heat.”
“There was a group that passed through here in the seventies,” Nancy said. “The rainbow people, or something like that. A bunch of hippies who said they were all for peace and love, but all they really did was sponge off anyone they could, do drugs and leave a mess behind. Bart Tillaman had to take his front-end loader out to the campsite after they left and haul off two or three Dumpsters full of garbage.”
“We won’t let things go that far,” Dylan said. “That’s why we’re keeping an eye on them.”
“And you’re helping the Rangers with their investigations?” Nancy asked Kayla.
She looked up from petting the dogs, who had settled on either side of her. “A client hired me to find his daughter,” she said. “She’s living with this group.”
“Those poor parents.” Nancy shook her head. “I can’t imagine having one of my children run off like that, having to hire a private investigator to track them down.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Dylan said.
“No. Especially now that all three of you are living on the ranch.” She smiled at Kayla. “Do your parents live near here?”
“I don’t have any close family anymore,” Kayla said. She shot Dylan a warning look. As if she had to warn him not to air her private business for his parents.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Nancy said. “But a small town can be a good place to be when you’re alone in the world. Stay here long enough and people will be treating you like family.”
“Which is another way of saying they’ll want to know all your business,” Dylan said, but he winked to let his mom know he was only teasing—sort of.
“Speaking of family business...” Bud put his hands on his knees and leaned toward Dylan. “I hope you plan on being at the Cattleman’s Club meeting next week.”
“I don’t know, Dad. Work is taking a lot of my time.” The monthly meetings of representatives from all the local ranches had never struck him as very productive.
“The board is really trying to get some of the younger members of local ranching families involved,” Bud said. “And you could learn a lot about the way the cattle business works in this part of the state.”
“All right. I’ll be there if I can.” One of the reasons he had returned to the ranch was to take on more of the responsibility of running cattle operations, to ease the burden on his parents. And he knew his dad got a kick out of showing off his son, the cop.
“Private investigation must be interesting work,” Nancy said, once more including Kayla in the conversation. “I would think a woman would have an advantage in that field.”
“Why do you say that?” Bud asked. “Because women are nosier than men?”
Nancy gave her husband a scolding look. “No. Because criminals would be less likely to suspect a woman—especially one who is so young and pretty.”
Kayla shifted, clearly uncomfortable. “I’ve always enjoyed solving puzzles,” she said. “And I like working alone and being my own boss.”
“I’d love to hear more about it,” Nancy said. She turned to Dylan. “I hope you’re planning to stay for dinner.”
“Oh, I don’t know—” Kayla began.
“We don’t have to be back at the camp until dusk,” Dylan interrupted. “Might as well not go on an empty stomach.”
“We’ll grill steaks,” Bud said. “Some of our own beef.”
“And a salad from the garden,” Nancy said.
“Right. The doctor says I’ve got to eat my vegetables.” Bud grinned. “Say you’ll stay.”
Kayla nodded, and even managed a small smile of her own. “All right.”
Nancy stood, and the others rose also. “While I’m cooking, Dylan can give you a tour of the ranch,” she said.
Chapter Nine
Kayla eyed the horse, swallowing her trepidation. The animal was considerably taller than her, with a lot more teeth. “I’ve never ridden a horse before,” she said.
“Sunset is an easy mount.” Dylan moved alongside her, so close she could feel the heat of him, which sent a corresponding warmth through her. “I’ll be right with you, so you don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Couldn’t we drive? Or take an ATV?” She looked longingly toward a trio of all-terrain vehicles parked outside the barn.
“Horseback is the best way to see the place,” he said. “Besides, my horse, Bravo, needs exercise. It’s been a few days since I rode him. We won’t go far, I promise.”
The horse snorted and tossed his head. “I don’t think he agrees with you,” she said. She took a step back, which sent her stumbling into Dylan. His arms encircled her, steadying her. The hard planes and bunched muscles that defined him as so very male stirred something deep in her female core and she stared up at him, lips parted, breathing grown shallow, bracing herself against the flood of longing that weakened her knees.
His eyes locked onto hers, then darkened, and his arms tightened around her. He bent his head, hesitating a fraction of a second with his mouth near hers. Impatient, she slid her hand to the back of
his neck and pulled him down.
His mouth was warm and agile, caressing her lips and sending liquid heat through her. He angled his head to deepen the kiss, the brim of his Stetson brushing the top of her hair, the faint afternoon shadow of his beard a pleasant friction against her skin.
When at last he raised his head, she blinked up at him, trying to clear away the fog of lust. “Wh-why did you do that?” she stammered.
“Because you wanted me to. And because I wanted to.” He patted the horse’s neck. “It stopped you from being afraid of Sunset, didn’t it?”
Wishing to deny both the accusation that she had wanted him to kiss her and that she had been afraid of the horse, but knowing she wasn’t that accomplished a liar, she turned away him and stuck her foot in the stirrup. “Let’s get go—”
Before she could complete the sentence, he had moved to boost her onto the horse, the feel of his hand against the seat of her jeans staying with her even when she was settled in the saddle. He handed her the reins. “Don’t jerk on them,” he said. “Mostly, Sunset will follow Bravo. You just relax and enjoy the scenery.”
That scenery included Dylan on horseback as he rode ahead of her down a trail that led away from the house. He sat relaxed in the saddle, tall and broad-shouldered, his Stetson cocked just-so on his head. What had possessed her to kiss the man like that? The move was unprofessional and impulsive and probably a lot of other things that in no way described her.
For the next half hour she followed him down the trail. He pointed out various outbuildings and pastures, and talked about some of the livestock and the history of the ranch. “My great-grandfather bought the land during the Depression, when it cost next to nothing. He worked for years adding to it and building it up to make it what it is today.” Kayla heard the pride in Dylan’s voice and felt a stab of jealousy. What would it be like to feel so connected to a place? To the land?