by Diana Palmer
“I think so. Didn’t really have time to count toes,” Parker added, “or see his face to identify him. But he was snow white and limping and he looked like ten miles of rough road. That limp pretty much identifies him as Two Toes.”
“We need to adopt him, lock him up, and feed him canned chicken,” JL said whimsically. “He’d be a threat to nobody, then.”
“Or find a wildlife rehabilitator who could be bribed or threatened to take him on and feed him canned chicken.”
JL chuckled. “That’s really not a bad idea,” he said. “I’ll talk to Butch Matthews and see if I can sell him on the idea. He’s always talking about wolves. He loves them.”
“I don’t mind them in a pack. Mostly they avoid ranches. Two Toes is a separate and individual case. You can’t scare him, you can’t intimidate him, he just does what he wants to and lopes off when he gets a scent of you.”
“We’ll be old and toothless and hungry one day.”
Parker gave him a dirty look. “Well, I won’t be eating poor little calves who get lost,” he returned.
“If you were starving, you just might.”
That earned him another nasty look.
JL sighed. “Well, I’ll go back home. I’ll let you know when I talk to Butch. We may have to take a few men and hunt Two Toes, in that case.”
“Don’t mind hunting him if he’ll be leaving here,” Parker replied. He pursed his lips. “I have been wondering if wolf stew tasted any good.”
“You’d have to parboil that old devil for a week to get him tender, and he’s too stringy to do much for your taste buds,” JL pointed out.
Parker chuckled. “Point taken.”
* * *
Cassie was back at work at the Gray Dove two days later. At least, she thought, she’d learned to carry a tray without dumping half the drinks on it. Her boss, Mary Dodd, had been very kind and patient. It made Cassie work even harder. So few people these days were patient at all.
“You’re doing very well,” Mary told her.
“Except for the coffee,” Cassie said, grimacing. “I’m so sorry.”
“You’ve only dropped a cup one time this whole week,” Mary said, trying to find a bright note. “And we allow for ceramic breakage in the budget, you know.” She leaned forward. “When I used to work here, years before I bought the place, I turned three plates of spaghetti on a tray into the lap of a vacationing millionaire from DC.”
Cassie’s lips fell open. “What did you do?” she exclaimed.
“I bawled and apologized and bawled some more.”
“What did he do?” she persisted.
Mary smiled. “He married me.”
Cassie chuckled. “I begin to see the light.”
“He gave me the money to buy the restaurant, with the idea that I might never improve enough to be able to hold down a job in it. So I hired people who were less clumsy than I am.”
“Not so much,” Cassie began.
Mary patted her on the back. “You’re doing fine. Really you are. Don’t worry. Life is an adventure. Every day is a gift. You have to live an hour at a time, kid. It’s what keeps you going.”
Cassie smiled. “Thanks. I really mean that.”
“You’re welcome. Back to work.”
“Yes, ma’am!”
* * *
It had been several days since Cassie had gone haring off to JL Denton’s ranch. The rancher had been very kind to her, despite her antagonism when they first met. She still hadn’t called him about getting her clothing back. She was too shy. Besides, she had plenty of other clothes. She wouldn’t have to go naked.
Secretly, she wished she had the nerve to call him. There was an odd vulnerability about him. He loved animals. He had a kind heart. That was far more important to Cassie than wealth. Not that JL was rich. The peeling paint on the house and fences testified to that. If he’d had money, he’d have kept the ranch up better than he did.
But he had told her that he ran purebred cattle, which her father said only a rich rancher could afford to do. Still, he might have inherited them from a wealthy relative. Cassie always tried to make allowances for people. Most people. It was hard to make allowances for the woman who’d ruined her father’s life and driven her poor mother to a desperate act after the scandal broke.
She cleaned tables and filled orders. It was getting easier as she went along. Mary had known that Cassie had never waited tables in her life. But she was getting the hang of it, and she worked hard.
That Friday, she had a familiar customer at her table. She glared at him.
Cary held both hands up. “I’m sorry,” he said before she could go on the attack. “I’m really sorry. Cousin JL read me the riot act. I swear, I’ll never tell another lie. Well, not to anybody he knows, at least,” he added with a charming smile.
“That was a really nasty thing to do,” she pointed out.
He shrugged. “Life gets boring. I like to liven things up.”
She sighed. He wasn’t getting it at all. She pulled out her pad. “What would you like to eat?”
“What’s good?”
“The beef stew and the lemon pie.”
“Fine. I’ll have that, with black coffee. You off tomorrow?”
She gave him a cold, hostile look.
“No more games,” he promised. “I’m not planning any more nonexistent picketing parties.” He pursed his lips. The scar on the lower one was blatant. She could picture a furious JL slugging him.
“Why did your cousin slug you?” she blurted out before she thought it through.
He grimaced. “Sorry. Best not to drag up painful memories.”
“I shouldn’t have asked,” she said quickly. “Stew and lemon pie. Be right out.”
She turned to go.
“There’s a bowling alley in downtown Benton,” he said before she walked off. “I wondered if you might like to try it out with me. It’s brand-new.”
She was disconcerted. She gnawed her lower lip. She didn’t quite trust him after he’d played that practical joke on her. She didn’t know him, either. JL had been disparaging about him. Those things added up to a distrust she was too polite to admit. She forced a smile. “Thanks, but I promised Dad I’d help him with a project this weekend.”
He just smiled, seemingly not offended at all. “No problem. Maybe I’ll ask you again sometime.”
She didn’t reply. She went to get his order. His narrow eyes watched her go and there was a calculating expression that she couldn’t see.
Nobody told her, but Cary held grudges, especially when women gave him the cold shoulder. The woman who’d messed up JL’s life had started out as Cary’s girl. JL thought that when she’d seen the size of his ranch, and knew he was rich, she tossed Cary out of her life and wormed her way into JL’s affections. It wasn’t true, but Cary had told JL all about it when he succeeded in prying Marge out of his cousin’s life.
Cary had been shattered when Marge walked right over him to get to his cousin. She’d been really in love, but Cary felt that she belonged to him. They’d dated for several weeks before he introduced her to JL. He’d wanted her for keeps, but she’d gone running to his cousin.
Well, it had turned out badly, especially when he told JL a few things that caused him to throw her out of his life. JL had started drinking shortly thereafter and he wanted nothing to do with Cary. His cousin had never admitted to being the serpent in paradise, but JL was suspicious these days. It had soured their relationship. Cary was sorry about it, from time to time, but she’d been his girl first. He’d been upset about losing her to a richer man, even if the man was his cousin.
He’d sent the red-haired waitress out to picket the ranch as a joke, but he’d found Cassie interesting and he wanted to take her out. She was cool with him, which made her a challenge. He liked a woman he had to chase. Now it was just a matter of finding a way to get close to her. And keep her out of his cousin’s sight. He wasn’t going to lose another woman to JL.
&nb
sp; * * *
Cassie, blissfully ignorant of her customer’s thoughts, brought out his meal and dessert, along with the strong black coffee he’d ordered.
“Bowling is fun,” he remarked as she wrote out the ticket. “You really ought to put off your father’s project and come with me.”
She just smiled. “Sorry. No can do.”
He shrugged. “Your loss.” He tossed her a flirty smile. “I don’t have any trouble getting women to go out with me.”
“How nice for you,” she said with a careless smile.
He glowered at her. “Look, I’m sorry I tricked you into picketing JL’s ranch,” he said reluctantly. He didn’t like apologizing; it made him feel weak.
She laid the ticket beside his plate. “No problem.”
He slid a hand around her waist and smiled. “You might give me a chance to make it up to you. . . .” he began, and his hand slipped lower, whether accidentally or not.
She turned her hand, bent his the wrong way, pulled him out of his seat, and put him on the floor.
He lay there, looking up at her with wide eyes and a bruised arm.
“You touch me like that again,” she said very softly, “and I’ll cripple you, before I sue you for sexual harassment.”
Mary Dodd had seen what went on. She moved to the table and stood over Cary. “And that’s called just deserts,” she told him coldly.
“My hand slipped!” he said, wincing as he dragged himself to his feet. “I swear!” He turned to Cassie. “I’m really sorry. It truly was an accident! I’d never treat a decent woman that way on purpose!”
He looked so pitiful that Cassie believed him. “Never again,” she cautioned him.
He put his hand over his heart. “I’ll just sit here and eat my stew and pie, and not make another accidental move!”
“If you do,” Mary said softly, “it will be the last time you eat here. Is that clear? Nobody harasses my waitresses,” she added.
“I’m really sorry,” he repeated. He grinned. “No more slippy hands. Honest!”
He was incorrigible. Mary rolled her eyes. She walked off, shaking her head.
Cassie laughed. He did look so miserable.
“Am I forgiven?” he persisted.
“This once,” she replied.
He crossed his heart. “I’m turning over a new leaf right now, ma’am,” he said, and grinned. “Honest.”
He sat down and dug into his stew.
Several people had amused smiles on their faces as Cassie went on to the next table and the next order.
* * *
“You okay?” Mary asked Cassie a little later, after Cary had left and the customers had thinned out a little.
Cassie smiled. “I’m fine,” she said. She was uneasy. Confrontations unsettled her, especially after what she and her father had suffered publicly only a short time ago. “I’m sorry I caused a scene.”
“Nonsense,” Mary said. “Just as well to let that man see his limits. He’s not mean, but he can get overbearing. He won’t again. Not with you,” she chuckled.
Cassie smiled. “I almost felt sorry for him,” she confessed.
“How did you do that, if you don’t mind saying?” she asked.
“I’m a black belt in tae kwon do,” she said simply. “I’ve taken lessons for five years. I used to compete,” she added sadly. She smiled. “I can’t do it anymore.”
“That’s a shame. It was a sight to see,” Mary told her.
Cassie grinned. “I truly enjoyed the look on his face. And maybe his hand did slip.”
“Maybe it didn’t,” came the amused reply. “But that’s Cary. He’s been no end of trouble to JL, his cousin,” she added in a lowered voice as they walked back behind the counter. “In fact, he was responsible for his cousin’s broken engagement.”
“He was?”
“He carried tales to both of them. It was a shame what he did to JL. He really loved the woman,” she said. “Gossip was that she fell hard for JL, too. Cary put a stop to that with a few whispers in her ear and JL’s. There’s no excuse for the way Cary treated her. He was jealous, you see, because she was his girl first and she threw him over for JL.”
“He was trying to get me to go bowling with him. I don’t like going out with men I don’t know,” she added softly.
“Wise woman,” Mary said. “In Cary’s case, very wise. He drinks to excess. JL just goes to bed when he’s had too much liquor. Cary gets in fights. Or he used to.” Her eyes twinkled. “Not so much since the last one. Anyway, JL can handle him when he’s drunk, if he has to. When JL’s sober, that is,” she added.
“When he’s sober . . . ?” Cassie probed.
“Best not to carry tales,” Mary replied. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just that Cary set me up picketing Mr. Denton’s ranch because Cary said he was torturing chickens in his henhouses.” She made a face. “I must be far more naïve than I thought I was. I went out there alone and stood in the freezing cold and rain until Mr. Denton drove up and found me. He took me to the ranch house and let me dry my stuff. He even made me coffee.” She sighed. “He’s very nice. I felt so bad about what I’d done.”
Mary grinned. “Trust me, JL will dine out on that story in a few weeks. Chicken houses.” She shook her head. “Eastern tenderfoot,” she chided affectionately.
Cassie laughed. “That’s what he called me. I guess I am. I’ll get back to work. Thanks for standing up for me,” she added softly.
“Nobody messes with my employees,” Mary said simply. And she smiled.
Chapter Three
Cassie didn’t tell her father about the unpleasantness in the restaurant with Cary. He had enough on his mind without having to worry about her. She fixed supper for him and they watched a movie on the little television set he’d bought from a coworker. She didn’t let on that she had a care in the world.
The next morning, she was surprised to find JL Denton occupying a booth in the restaurant where she worked. He’d dropped his white Stetson onto the seat beside him. He had thick black hair with a faint wave, and he was wearing a western-cut shirt with jeans and boots. Cassie’s heart skipped when he looked up at her as she came to take his order. But he wasn’t smiling.
“What did Cary do to you yesterday?” he asked quietly, and there was a look in his dark eyes that made her faintly nervous.
She hesitated. She didn’t like carrying tales. Gossip was what had cost her father his job, and the ensuing notoriety put Cassie on the run as well.
“Come on,” he said, his deep voice dropping softly. “Tell me what happened.”
She took a breath and glanced around. The boss was in the kitchen and there was only old Mr. Bailey in the restaurant this early and he couldn’t hear a cannon go off.
“He wanted me to go out with him,” she said, lowering her voice. “I didn’t want to. He kept trying to coax me and then he slid his hand over my, well, my bottom”—she fought a blush—“and I put him on the floor.”
“You . . . ?” he asked, spellbound.
“I put him on the floor,” she said simply. “I’m a black belt in tae kwon do.”
“Did Cary know that?”
She pursed her lips and her blue eyes twinkled. “I think he might suspect it, now. He was very apologetic. The boss saw what happened from the kitchen. She told him if he ever did that again, he’d never get back in here. He apologized for three minutes straight. He said his hand slipped,” she added. She drew in a breath. “I’m so sorry for making a scene. . . .”
“Why?” he asked, searching her eyes. “That’s what should have happened. No man has the right to harass a woman on the job. I’ve fired cowboys who got fresh with my housekeeper’s daughter.”
She was impressed. “I thought you might be mad,” she said. “He’s your cousin. . . .”
“By marriage, not by blood,” he said shortly.
She didn’t mention what she’d heard about Cary and JL�
��s fiancée, but it ran through her mind.
“If he starts giving you any trouble, you call Todd Blakely. He’s the police chief here in town, and a friend of mine. Tell him I told you to call. He’ll take care of Cary, and he’ll enjoy it,” he added. “It was Todd who put Cary in jail for assault. Cary’s girlfriend slapped him. He called the law on her.” He smothered a grin at Cassie’s expression.
“He called the police because his girlfriend slapped him?” Cassie asked, wide-eyed. “But you said he went to jail for assault,” she added, confused.
He pursed his chiseled lips. “Well, see, when Todd got there, Cary swung on him. Our chief’s a martial artist, too. Cary had lots of bruises. But assault on a police officer is a felony and Cary couldn’t talk Todd out of the charge. So he spent a couple of weeks behind bars before his attorney pulled a few strings and got him out.” He shook his head. “Whatever he is, Cary’s still part of one of the founding families of Benton. That reputation goes a long way around here. And Cary had been drinking, which he almost never used to do.”
“I heard about him going to jail,” she said. “I thought it was because he was dangerous.”
“No, he’s not dangerous and he doesn’t want to go back,” he assured her. “So he’ll be more careful. But don’t trust him. I don’t mean that he’s dangerous. He’s mostly mischievous. He’s like old Two Toes; he’s a sneak.”
“Two Toes?”
“Our resident bad boy. He’s an old wolf. He preys on our calves because he can’t get a pack to take him on, apparently, and he sneaks around my ranch looking for helpless little strays.”
“Oh, how awful,” she said softly.
He smiled. He liked her nurturing attitude. She reminded him of his mother, long ago, when he was small. She’d been like this, all heart.
“We’re hoping we can talk the local wildlife rehabilitator to take him on. I don’t want to kill him, but we have to stop him.”
“Do they let people keep wolves as pets?” she asked.