Ladies Love Lawmen: When It's A Matter of The Heart or Death...

by D'Ann Lindun

  “All that?” He rummaged around and found the coffee, water and the fire scarred pot before he poured the stew into a pan and hung it from the hook over the fire.

  She shrugged. “Martin and I used to come up here and camp. I learned how to pack a lot in a small space. We have enough to last until Friday.”

  Jake shot a glance her way. She looked a million miles away. Thinking about her brother, no doubt. Jake took the moment to study her. Long hair, disheveled by the rain, and nipples pressing against her T-shirt jolted him in places he couldn’t allow. He wouldn’t mind being stranded with her a lot longer than a few days. His mind better stay on Martin, not his sexy sister. The last time he got caught up with a woman in an investigation he almost woke up dead. He had to keep his guard up. She hadn’t answered his question. “So . . . Briar Rose?”

  She hesitated and he waited for her to make up her mind. Finally, she spoke. “She’s not what I would expect.”

  “Why not?”

  Her words came slow. “Martin’s very traditional. He’s always preferred women of his own race.”

  “Maybe Briar Rose knocked him out.” He had an inkling how Martin felt. When Jake looked at Castaña she could take his mind off business without even trying.

  “Maybe.” She didn’t sound convinced.

  “Does she strike you as being up front about Martin?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know her well enough to judge, but no, I don’t think she’s telling me all she knows.”

  His instinct, too.

  The stew bubbled in the pan and Jake stirred it. Water boiled in the coffee pot and he tossed in a few grounds. The aromas filled the small space and he inhaled appreciatively. With the low light flickering on the table, the fire cracking and Castaña moving about, Jake was enjoying himself. His muscles were a little stiff from riding, but he was a hell of a lot better off than he’d been less than two months ago, when he’d been lying in a hospital room with a bullet wound in his shoulder and his career on the line.

  His gaze strayed to Castaña again. Her long brown hair had been pulled back in a tight braid, but the storm had ripped some strands loose and the light from the fire skipped across them, catching his eye. Even from across the room, he caught the light floral scent of her shampoo. He forced his attention to the stew, stirring it again. “It’s hot.”

  “I’m starving,” she declared.

  Using his sleeve as a hot pad, he carried the simmering pot to the stone table and set it there. She had wiped the rock table with paper towels and placed their plates on it. Jake waited until she sat, then joined her. They ate in companionable silence until he asked between bites, “Do storms around here usually last this long?”

  She shrugged and he couldn’t help noticing the way her firm breasts pressed against the clingy fabric of her gray shirt. “Sometimes. It depends. When the monsoons hit, we have showers every afternoon. But this is just a freak thing.”

  “Have you ever brought someone special here?” Why did he care if she’d ever spent the night here with another man? Her love life was none of his business.

  “Just my brother.” She looked away. “Martin and I decided to run away and we came here. We were gone four days before we gave in and went home.” A wry smile crossed her lips. “It never occurred to either one of us that our parents knew exactly where we were the entire time.”

  “It sounds like you and your brother were close.”

  She looked at her plate and stirred the stew. “When we were kids.”

  “But not now?”

  When she looked up tears glistened in her hazel eyes. “Not since my father corrupted Martin into believing the only thing in life that mattered was those damn mustangs.”

  Jake waited.

  “Martin was a happy kid, but when my father’s lost cause took him over it turned Martin into a sour, bitter man.” The coffee boiled over, making the logs pop. She stood and took it from the heat. “Want some?”

  “Please.”

  She poured two cups, placing one in front of him. Then she sat. “I can understand having a passion—mine is also horses—but Martin couldn’t take the setbacks. Whenever he won a scuffle with the government they’d come back and beat him twice as badly. This latest change in the law is bound to make him crazy.” She changed the subject. “What about you? Do you have a brother?”

  He should stay deep undercover, but sharing a little background shouldn’t hurt anything. “No. Just a sister who died of an overdose.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Me, too, but it was a long time ago.” He’d never stop missing his baby sister, but the pain had dulled a little over time. “It was ten years ago. Nikki went wild and ran with some of the worst street gangs in Phoenix. We tried everything to get her shook loose, but nothing worked.” The heartbreak had made old people out of his parents and made him determined to save someone else from the same fate.

  “That’s terrible.” Castaña’s eyes brimmed with compassion. He hated pity of any sort. But coming from her, sympathy didn’t bug him as much as it usually did.

  “Yeah.” He blew on his steaming coffee. “It is.”

  One of the horses neighed and she cocked her head. “That’s odd.”

  “What?”

  She stood and walked to the door without answering. When she opened it a gust of wind and rain blew in. The horse neighed again. The sound of galloping hooves reached him over the storm. “I think someone’s out there.”

  She grabbed her slicker and slipped out the door.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  For a minute, Castaña couldn’t see through the dark night. Rain still poured down in buckets and the wind picked up speed. This was an unusually strong storm for summer. Lightning flashed on the hillside above her, and for just a moment, she saw her three horses silhouetted in the light. Galloping madly, they spun around the corral with manes and tails flying. The weather really had them riled up. She opened the gate and stepped through. Sticking close to the fence so that the running geldings didn’t mow her over, she called to them. “Hey, boys. Settle down now!”

  Somewhere above them, a horse neighed shrilly.

  Wild horses!

  She heard the sound of their pounding hooves.

  They were coming this way. When another flash of lightning lit the night sky she spotted them along the ridge. Although she couldn’t see them clearly, she could make out shadows. One, two, three . . . four . . . five. More. Probably close to twenty.

  The geldings in the corral grew even more agitated. Rojo neighed, trying to entice the wild horses to him, Cloud plunged along the fence, and Gato spun circles. The mustangs disappeared into the trees along the ridge. About the same time, both Castaña and Cloud spotted the gate she’d left open behind her. Before she could stop him, he charged through it at a hard gallop, Rojo hot on his heels.

  Gato, too, rushed for the opening. Castaña made a wild dive for his halter. Her fingers found purchase on the nylon, and she held on with everything she had. Her 120 pounds couldn’t do much to stop a charging 1,000-pound horse, and he dragged her alongside, her heels making furrows in the wet earth.

  “Let go,” Jake shouted from somewhere behind her.

  She couldn’t. It was as if her fingers were melded to the halter. If she fell, she’d be trampled. She had one other option. Praying she could make it work, she took two running steps, grabbed Gato’s mane with her right hand and swung her leg over his back.

  Made it!

  Her breath rushed out and she fell forward, wrapping both arms around Gato’s neck and her legs tight against his slick torso. Without reins, there wasn’t any way to guide or stop the runaway horse except to try to grab his halter and spin him in a circle. Afraid that might cause him to fall on the slippery ground, Castaña prayed he wouldn’t step in a hole or trip over a log, but he could see better than she could. Ahead of her, the herd charged as if they were being chased.

  Too busy concentrating on not falling off, Castaña di
dn’t give it too much thought as Gato lunged up the steep hillside, wove through cottonwoods and dove over downed trees and small ravines. Wind rushed through her hair, and a wet branch slapped her cheek.

  Sitting up, she held on with her knees and with her fingers tangled in the dun’s mane. She hadn’t ridden like this since she was a kid. She and Martin never used saddles when they were young. How had she forgotten to ride bareback? The ground shook from the horses’ hooves, and around her the air vibrated with an intensity that stimulated her soul.

  She caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of her eye. Sure it was human, she turned her head for a better look, but nothing was there. Her imagination had to be working overtime.

  She forgot about the weird shadows as the herd made a sharp left turn, disappearing over the steep hillside, back into the canyon. Beneath her, the dun finally began to tire, although the horses ahead showed no signs of slowing.

  “Whoa, boy,” she called.

  The gelding ignored her and continued to follow the other horses. Castaña grabbed for Gato’s halter, but he jerked his head out of reach. She tried again. Her fingers brushed the nylon halter, but didn’t grip the slippery material.

  When he began to lope, then trot, she reached up and grabbed the side of his halter, pulling hard. The gelding reluctantly obeyed her command, spun in a tight circle and stopped.

  She slid off and would have collapsed if her hands weren’t wrapped around the halter. She leaned against the horse’s sweat soaked neck and tried to calm her raging heartbeat. Still anxious, the gelding lifted his head and neighed. Somewhere down the ravine another horse answered.

  Rojo, maybe?

  Cloud would probably keep running with the mustangs until they stopped. The appaloosa had lived in captivity since he was a colt, but his wild instincts wouldn’t be easily forgotten. Catching him wasn’t going to be easy; it might even take herding him in with the mustangs when the BLM did their annual fall roundup. Luckily, he had the white freeze branded numbers on his neck that would signal the BLM employees he belonged to someone. Martin would kill her if anything happened to his prized mustang.

  Without a grain to entice Rojo, or even a way to lead him, Castaña turned back the way she’d come and trudged up the canyon floor pulling the reluctant gelding with her. He flicked his ears back, still worrying about the other horses. Once in a while he’d snort and try to toss his head, but she held him with a death grip. If he broke loose now there’d be no catching him.

  “Come on,” she said. “The sooner we get back to the cabin, the sooner we can get Rojo.”

  Ahead she heard the dim sound of Jake calling her.

  “Down here,” she shouted back. “I’m okay.”

  Rounding another bend, she could hear him better.

  “Castaña? Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” she answered. The rain pushed at her back and she bent her head, trudging. She was almost upon Jake when she realized he was hunched over something in the mud. “What’s wrong?”

  He looked up, rain running down his face. “I think I found your brother.”

  A low moan slipped out of her as she joined him. The horse half reared and his eyes rolled wildly. “Hold Gato.”

  Jake took the gelding from her, and she fell to her knees next to the body. Face-up, he laid spread eagle with his arms thrown out as if to ward off something. Not something. A herd of horses. His clothing had been torn from his body and dozens of hoof prints branded his skin. One of the running horses had stepped on his cheek.

  Bile rose in her throat as she remembered the wild jump Gato had made here. With shaking hands, she reached out and tenderly wiped mud and blood from the face. Relief shot through her. “Jake,” she cried, “this isn’t him. This is not Martin.”

  “What?” He leaned over her shoulder. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.” She rocked back on her heels. “I haven’t seen him for a while, but I’d know my brother anywhere.” She wiped away more gore. “See? Martin has a running horse tattooed on his neck. This man doesn’t.”

  “Maybe he had it removed.”

  Her fingers lingering on the man’s neck felt a flutter. My God he had a pulse. “Jake, this man’s alive.”

  “What?” He knelt beside her and replaced her fingers with his own. “Just barely. He needs immediate medical attention. We shouldn’t move him. If he has a neck or back injury, we could paralyze him if we move him.”

  “Getting help is going to be very difficult. Cloud and Rojo are somewhere with the wild horses. Rojo is used to being handled, but Cloud is another story. I don’t know if we’ll ever catch him.” She glanced at him. “And you’re in no shape to walk. I’ll ride for help.”

  He shook his head. “You shouldn’t be riding in the middle of the night. It’s dangerous.”

  She stared at him. No man had ever taken her well-being into consideration before. “Galloping in the dark is dangerous. Following a trail I’ve known all my life is a piece of cake.” She glanced at the injured man. “Besides, I don’t have any medical training to help him.”

  “Who said I do? You do know the way better than I do, though, so you should probably go for help . . . if you’re certain you can make it safely. “

  “I’m positive.”

  Frowning, he nodded. “Okay.”

  “I’m going to saddle Gato. I’ve had enough bareback riding for one night.”

  “Be careful.”

  “I’m not afraid.” Even as she said the words, a chill skittered down her back. Had she imagined the man in the trees, or had someone actually been there? What had spooked the mustangs? They had been running as if they were being chased. Where had the injured man come from? Why had he tried to turn the herd? If he knew anything about horses, he should’ve known that it would be impossible. Sort of like stopping an ocean wave with a surfboard.

  After Castaña saddled Gato, she went inside the cabin and picked up a sleeping bag and a thermos. She stowed the coffee in her saddlebags and carried the sleeping bag back to Jake. “I’ll be back as soon as I get hold of the sheriff. There’s no way to drive in here so he’ll have to ride, too. Don’t look for me until morning.”

  Jake brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Don’t put yourself in danger.”

  “I won’t.” She opened her left saddlebag and lifted out her pistol. “I have this.” Then she swung up on the gelding and reined him toward the trail.

  ~*~

  Castaña couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being followed. Her skin had goosebumps and her scalp tingled. She watched Gato for any signs of nervousness, but he didn’t seem fazed by the night and strode along in an easygoing manner. The rain let up, but an eerie mist swirled around in its wake. The clouds parted and a half-moon glittered through. Like dancing ghosts, the fog swayed and twirled around the trunks of the cottonwoods. She was imagining things again, just like she thought she’d seen the man in the trees. Nothing was out there. Nothing.

  She’d ridden these hills since she’d been a small child, but it wasn’t every day she saw a trampled man and it wasn’t every day that Martin came up missing. She had been so scared when she thought it had been him squashed in the mud. They might not have been close for the last few years, but she didn’t want anything terrible to happen to him.

  The lights of the barnyard broke through the fog and she drew a grateful breath. She’d be out of the forest in a matter of minutes. With no watch, she guessed it to be around midnight. The clouds were separating, blowing away. By morning, there would be no sign of the storm.

  Riding through the gate at the north end of the pasture, she quickly crossed it and entered the barn. Dismounting, she tied Gato to a post and dragged off his saddle. Too tired to do much more than throw him a few flakes of hay, she led him in his stall and removed his bridle. With a soft pat to his shoulder, she bolted the stall door and headed for the house.

  Briar Rose met her on the doorstep with wide eyes. Wrapped in a blanket, hair
unbound and no shoes, she’d obviously been sleeping. “What’s wrong?” She darted a look over Castaña’s shoulder. “Is it Martin? Did you find him?”

  “No.” Castaña stepped up on the porch. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you all about it.”

  They moved in the kitchen and Briar Rose turned on the teapot. Mama’s old hen shaped clock over the door showed it was later than Castaña thought, almost 2 a.m. Now that she was home, Castaña realized how tired she was. And soaked. She reached for her cell phone. “I need to call the sheriff. I couldn’t get service out in the woods.”

  Briar Rose stood within earshot while Castaña dialed the number Deputy Perez had given her earlier. He answered with a gruff, sleepy, “Perez here.”

  “Deputy, this is Castaña Castillo. I need you to come to the ranch right away. Bring a saddle horse and some way to pack an injured man out of the forest. He’s hurt badly and in the bottom of Dead Horse Canyon.” She hung up before he could ask any more questions, preferring to answer them on the move. Jake might be in danger out there alone.

  Castaña slipped into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt before rejoining the other woman in the kitchen. Briar Rose had placed two cups of tea on the table. Castaña added a generous amount of sugar and milk to hers. “Thanks.”

  “Martin’s hurt?” Briar Rose’s sounded as scared as Castaña felt.

  “As far as I know, no. The injured man isn’t him. There’re lots of places he could be.” Who was she trying to convince, herself or the other girl? “But we found a guy who was run over by a herd of mustangs. We thought he was Martin, but he’s a stranger.”

  “He wasn’t . . . shot?”

  “I don’t think so, but I couldn’t say for sure. The damage was pretty bad.” Castaña closed her eyes and tried to will away the image of the broken, bloody man. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s what happened to those other two men, isn’t it? The idea of someone running around shooting people makes me nervous as a cat.”