"But why? And why Allen Dunbar?" Gillian tapped the end of her pencil on her desk. None of this made any sense.
"Well, I'm not saying it's Dunbar for sure," Harold said. "Every man is innocent until proven guilty. But Dunbar has been on duty, or nearby, every time something's gone wrong."
Gillian stopped tapping her pencil. "That's not enough to prove Allen did anything. There must be something else. And besides, what possible motive could he have for doing all those things?"
"Money can motivate and tempt most anybody."
"Whose money?" She asked the question even though she knew what his answer would be.
Harold stroked his mustache slowly. "I looked up Dunbar's employment record, as well as the others. He used to work on the Diamondback Ranch. He was foreman for ten years, before signing on here as a derrick hand. Mighty coincidental, ain't it?"
"So, you think Dallas McCade is behind all of this?"
"Who else could it be?" he asked. "He's the only one with a motive that I can think of."
Gillian sighed. "I've thought of that possibility, too. Keep an eye on Allen and those other two. So far, most of the 'accidents' have only caused a couple of days delay in drilling. But this last one could have cost lives as well as shut down the operation."
Harold nodded. "I'm going to keep watch all right. Ben Dawson will, too. You can bet on that. The less people who know about this the better. If the guilty party thinks the sugar was added to the mud, and no one the wiser, he'll probably sit back and wait for the results. We should have a quiet spell for at least a week or two."
"And then?" Gillian asked.
"Who knows? Time's running short. Won't be long until we know whether we're going to strike oil. It all depends on how badly someone wants to shut us down."
He stood, settling his hard hat in the crook of his arm. "I'm going to town to grab a bite to eat. Want to come along?"
"I don't know. They say three's a crowd." Gillian smiled when the older man's cheeks turned red.
"What do you mean by that?" Harold asked, frowning mightily.
"I mean, Sarah Sue's face always lights up when you walk into her cafe." Gillian couldn't help teasing him.
"Hell, I can't help that, now can I? A man's got to eat. Besides, it's the only place in town," he said, the twinkle in his eye more pronounced than ever.
"I don't think the food is the only reason you eat there every night," she said.
"Maybe so, maybe no. It's really none of your business, boss lady," he said with a grin.
Gillian grinned back. She enjoyed the friendly give and take between the older man and herself. "I'm not sure. Maybe I shouldn't tag along."
"Nonsense," he said. "Sarah likes you, too."
"From what I've seen, she's friendly to all of her customers," Gillian said. "Yet somehow her eyes don't shine as brightly when she's taking my order."
"You coming, or not?" He held the door open, ignoring that last gibe.
She laughed and shook her head. "Go on. I'll catch up in a little bit."
"Better not wait too long. It's Wednesday, and it'll be crowded. Chicken-fried steak night, you know. I'll save you a seat." The door slammed behind him.
Gillian straightened the papers on her desk, filing some reports, stacking others to be read later in the week.
She couldn't believe someone was trying to shut down the drilling operation. In her wildest dreams, she never thought she would be investigating criminal action on a project. It was definitely not in her job description.
Was Dallas McCade really behind all of it? Gillian closed her eyes and thought about her one encounter with the cowboy. Her body instantly responded to the image of his muscular body, the intensity in his eyes when he'd looked at her. She hadn't been near him since that day, but awareness crept over her every time she saw him standing on the ridge.
Dallas McCade had to be one of the most attractive men she'd ever met. And the most frustrating. He didn't like her. Was actually antagonistic toward her. And she certainly didn't like him or his attitude, she reminded herself. But damn, he turned her insides into a quivering mass of jelly. When he had stepped closer to her at the garage, something suspiciously like desire had glowed in his eyes. An answering awareness had flickered low in her tummy. That hadn't happened to her in years.
Gillian opened her eyes and took a deep breath, shaking off the dangerous thoughts. She had no business thinking about Dallas McCade like that. She had given up on men a long time ago. With good reason.
Glancing around the small office, she decided everything was in order for the night. She grabbed her purse and keys and headed out the door.
Her stomach grumbled with hunger as she pulled into a parking spot in front of the little cafe. It looked like a hole in the wall, but the food tasted great. Sarah Sue was a character, Gillian thought with a smile.
Every table was full, exactly like Harold had predicted. The pleasant buzz of conversation and laughter filled the place. Gillian quickly scanned the crowded tables and booths trying to locate Harold.
She turned toward the counter when she heard her name called. Harold waved from a barstool, indicating the seat next to him at the counter.
"The whole town seems to be here tonight." Gillian sat down and placed her purse near her feet.
"Told you it would be crowded," Harold said. "Not one empty table. If it wasn't for Sarah Sue, this seat would be taken, too."
"I bet you sweet-talked her into turning away a customer just to save me a seat."
"Darlin', he didn't have to sweet-talk me, though I'd give something to hear him try to do it," said the tall middle-aged woman, coming from the kitchen. She set a plastic tumbler of water in front of Gillian and two menus on the countertop.
"And I never turn away customers," she said with a wink, before hurrying to a nearby table to take an order.
"That's a fact," said the man seated next to Gillian. "Never seen Sarah Sue make a customer wait long. She'll seat you at a table with strangers if she has to. Though no one's a stranger to her. But that's Sarah Sue all over."
The man smiled and waved his fork before returning his attention to his dinner.
Gillian held back a bubble of laughter as she stared at Harold in wide-eyed amusement. She couldn't get used to the friendly, outspoken ways of small-town people. Very much different from what she was used to in Los Angeles.
"Let me guess what you're going to have," she said to Harold, as she opened her menu.
"I don't even have to look." He pushed the menu away and took a sip of water.
"Ready to order?" asked Sarah Sue, taking the pencil from behind her ear and holding it poised above the pad of paper. "What'll it be, darlin'?" She spoke to Gillian, but her smile was for Harold.
Gillian folded her menu. "I'll have a salad and some tea, please."
"You need something more filling than that, darlin'," the waitress said. "How about some of the steak?"
"I'm really not very hungry," Gillian said. Sarah Sue's frown made her reconsider. "Okay, make it a chef salad and bring a couple of hot rolls. Are you satisfied now?
"It's not much, but it's a start," said Sarah Sue, jotting down the order.
"And what about you?" she asked Harold.
"You know what I want," he said, taking another drink of water.
"I think I know what you want, but you never will come out and say it now, will you, darlin'?" Sarah Sue stared at him.
He choked on his water.
Gillian saw his cheeks redden slightly, and his eyes glitter brightly. She knew he liked the outspoken waitress, but he'd never asked her out. This was a very different Harold from the rough, hard-working man on the drill site.
He was still choking and sputtering. Gillian thumped him on the back and took pity on him.
"He'll have the chicken-fried steak," she said.
Sarah Sue smiled as she wrote the order. "I knew that, darlin'," she said with a wink. "I just wanted to hear him ask for it."
&nbs
p; Gillian felt the undercurrents of the seemingly innocent conversation, and wondered how many others were aware of the by-play.
The man beside her pushed his plate away and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "I'm ready for my check, Sarah Sue."
"Hold your horses, George," she said. "I've only got two hands." She pinned the order slip on the wire hanging in the window behind her. Digging in her apron pocket, Sarah Sue found George's ticket and slapped it on the counter. She picked up his plate and headed for the kitchen.
George counted out his money and laid it on the bill. He grabbed his Stetson and leaned toward Gillian. "You folks have a nice dinner."
Gillian smiled, then turned to Harold. "Very friendly, wasn't he?"
Harold nodded. "Friendly to you," he teased. Suddenly, his eyes hardened and he stiffened.
"What's wrong?" Gillian asked. At that moment, she felt a muscled thigh brush hers when someone slid onto the barstool next to her. Turning, she met the surprised look on Dallas McCade's face.
For a split second, he stared at her with such intensity she had to remember to breathe. Almost immediately, a shuttered look came over him. He stood and looked around for another place to sit. Every table and booth was full.
The impact of his actions, the deliberate act of rejection, made Gillian's insides reel. How could he act so rudely? And why in the world could this man affect her so strongly?
Sarah Sue bustled in with a tray of food. She looked at Dallas. "Sit down, darlin'. I'll get to you in a minute."
Dallas glanced at Gillian and the stool. With an infinitesimal shrug, he sat on the stool, careful not to touch her again.
Sarah Sue placed Harold's plate on the counter. "Careful, it's hot," she warned. "Not yours, darlin'." She set a large salad in front of Gillian, along with a basket of hot rolls.
Gillian began eating, all the while conscious of the big rancher beside her. Her body hummed with awareness caused by the heat radiating from him. She mechanically lifted her fork, going through the motions of eating, not really tasting the food.
Her ears buzzed. She felt like she was in a tunnel of sorts, the walls closing in. Was she about to faint? She had never fainted in her life, and she wasn't about to start now. Dallas McCade could go to hell for all she cared. She refused to let him get the best of her. Taking two deep breaths, she calmly ate her salad, focusing on the crisp cool crunch of each lettuce leaf.
Sarah Sue tucked the tray under one arm and brought a menu from under the counter, handing it to Dallas. "Haven't seen you in here for a long while," she said. "Your mama gone out of town? You usually don't come in for supper, unless Ruth's gone somewhere."
"She and Jessie are in Lubbock," Dallas said, keeping his eyes on the menu. "They took Cameron to the airport and they're going to do some shopping and spend the night."
"That's right," said Sarah Sue, taking her order pad from her apron pocket. "Cameron's going to Honolulu for a medical conference, and Jessie's staying at the ranch while he's away. I'd forgotten all about that. So, what'll you have, darlin'?"
"Make it the special, with mashed potatoes, carrots and broccoli, and a large tea."
"One Wednesday night special, coming right up." She jotted down the order, then rushed off to wait on another customer.
Gillian, concentrating on her salad, heard every word of the conversation between Dallas and Sarah Sue. The low rumble of the cowboy's voice reminded her of their time together in his truck. Only now, the animosity was absent from his tone as he talked to the waitress. The deep baritone flowed over her, making her want to snuggle against the solid body. Gillian almost choked on a bite of tomato and her cheeks burned at the thought.
She glanced to her left at Harold. He was busy eating his dinner. Taking another bite of salad, Gillian looked across the counter. Through the kitchen window, the cook was flipping burgers and preparing dinner plates. A mirror stretched along the wall near the ceiling. The whole cafe was reflected in the shining glass, but it was one pair of brilliant blue eyes that snagged her attention. Dallas McCade was watching her. He held her gaze, and Gillian couldn't look away. She lost herself in the ocean-colored depths of his stare.
Sarah Sue walked up to the counter and broke the spell. Gillian had the distinct feeling the waitress had witnessed the byplay. The knowing look in the older woman's eyes made her uneasy.
Sarah Sue smiled at her. "Darlin', this here is Dallas McCade. He owns the Diamondback Ranch." The waitress ignored Gillian's widened eyes. "Dallas, this is Gillian Bankston. She's working at the drilling site on your ranch. Make your howdies to one another."
The silence was palpable. Sarah Sue frowned. "Go on, Dallas. Say howdy to the little lady."
"We've already met," Gillian said quickly, before Dallas could say anything, if he would say anything. She laid her fork down. Eating was impossible. "Could I have my check, please?"
"Why, darlin', you barely touched your food."
"I know. I'm not really hungry." Gillian stood. She positioned her purse strap on her shoulder. Her fingers clasped the thin strip of leather, testing the weight of the heavy bag. What she really wanted to do was hit Dallas McCade over the head with it. She was shocked by her violent reaction. Something about the rancher made her feel things she wasn't used to feeling.
Without looking at Dallas, Gillian made her excuses to Harold, paid her bill, then quickly left the cafe. At the door, she glanced back. Dallas McCade's eyes glittered strangely, leaving her panting for breath. Thank goodness, the man didn't like her. If he ever decided he did, she would be in big trouble. Gillian didn't think she could handle the promised passion banked in the depths of those vivid blue eyes.
****
Dallas watched Gillian leave. God, she looked good enough to eat. He hadn't seen her up close in over two weeks. Oh, he'd managed to see her almost everyday. But standing on the ridge, looking down at the drilling site, catching glimpses of her had only whetted his appetite. He couldn't get Gillian Bankston out of his mind. And he didn't like it one bit.
Before she arrived, he had been in the habit of going several times a week to look at the drilling site, inwardly fuming, watching the progress, hoping they would pack up and leave. He had been drawn to the site against his will, hating to see what they were doing to his land, unable to stay away.
That was nothing compared to the last two weeks, knowing Gillian was working and living on his land. Going to the ridge had become an obsession. Hell, he barely spared a glance at the progress of the drilling anymore. All he wanted to see was the slim feminine figure moving about the site, her black wavy hair flowing beneath the hard hat, sometimes a glimpse of her face turned toward the ridge.
Dallas shook his head in disgust and quickly ate the steak Sarah Sue placed before him. He was acting like a moonstruck kid. It was embarrassing, that's what it was. Hadn't his failed marriage taught him anything? Pushing the plate away, he stood up to leave.
Sarah Sue came back, looked at his empty plate, then looked at him. "Finished already? You want some dessert or something? Or someone? You sure are in a hurry all of a sudden."
"Don't start with me." He peeled several bills from his wad of cash and stuffed the rest in his pocket. "And don't get any ideas."
He frowned at Harold, not liking how close the man had sat next to Gillian, even though he knew the tool-pusher had the hots for Sarah Sue. Sarah Sue, of all people. Everyone in town knew something was simmering between the oilman and the waitress.
Dallas crammed his hat on his head and turned toward the door, bumping into a woman who had walked up behind him. He automatically caught her arms, preventing her from being knocked down from his abrupt movement. He swallowed a curse when he realized it was Nadine Cooley. They had gone to school together and graduated the same year.
"Hello, Dallas," she said, her baby-like voice breathless and excited. She clasped her hands around his forearms, stroking her fingers sensuously over his skin.
Dallas quickly disentangled himself and stepped ba
ck. Nadine promptly closed the space between them.
"You're not trying to avoid me, are you?" she said with a pout.
"No, I need to get back to the ranch." He moved away from her. "Here, take my seat. Sarah Sue will bring you something to eat."
Nadine giggled and sat on the barstool. "It's still warm. Your warmth, Dallas. Thank you so much." She fluttered her eyelashes at him before picking up a menu.
Jesus! Dallas couldn't leave fast enough. He hurried out the door and made his escape. He didn't want anything to do with Nadine Cooley. All the Cooleys were crazy. Nadine had been in and out of the state mental institution any number of times since graduation.
The Cowboy's Surrender Page 3