“I know.” With a wave at Cath and a nod to Gray, Dylan left the suite. Gray closed and locked the door behind him.
“That was hard,” Cath said and patted the chaise next to her. “He looked so shell-shocked.”
“I think he had a suspicion for a long time that his mother had never married and that the story of his wrangler father was fantasy. But I think the birth certificate threw him for a real loop.”
“So, who left us a note on the door?” Cath asked.
“Oh.” Gray realized he still held the folded piece of paper in his hand. He opened it and his blood iced in his veins. As Cath gasped, he grabbed her hand and held tight, knowing she could see the big black block letters on the paper.
STOP PUTTING YOUR NOSE WHERE IT DOESN’T BELONG OR YOUR NEW WIFE WILL END UP DEAD.
Chapter 16
“We’ve obviously stirred up somebody,” Gray said as he remained holding Cath’s ice-cold hand. “What I can’t figure out is how anyone knew we’ve been asking questions about anything. We’ve been so careful to take it all away from the ranch.”
“Maybe somebody overheard you and Dylan talking in the stables when he first asked you for help finding out about his mother.” The iciness in her hand apparently had travelled up her arm and through her body for her voice quivered as if she were standing naked in the middle of a snowstorm.
“Maybe,” he replied. He scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “This doesn’t change anything,” he said as he wadded up the note and tossed it onto the coffee table. “This is just the work of a coward. If somebody really intended to kill you, a note of warning wouldn’t have been delivered. It’s just an empty threat, Cath, taped to the door to freak us out.”
“I have to admit, the tactic worked. I am more than a little freaked out.” She curled into him, as if seeking his strength and the warmth of his body. “Before now I was just being threatened with kidnapping. Now somebody is threatening to kill me.”
He tightened his grip around her. “And I have no intention of allowing either of those things to happen to you. I just wish I knew who left the note. Who had the nerve to walk right up to your suite door and leave it behind?”
“It will soon be time for dinner. Maybe somebody saw someone pass by my suite door.”
“Yeah, and maybe the moon really is made of green cheese,” he replied dryly. He doubted that whoever had left that note had been seen by anyone. The person behind all this was cunning and insidious, clinging to shadows and never showing a hint of identity.
Some of the bad guys had already been caught or killed, names had been on and then off an ever-changing suspect list. On the surface it would be easy to write off each of the crimes and deaths as isolated incidences, but Gray knew in his gut it was more, far more. There was somebody in this house behind it all, somebody pulling strings like a Machiavellian puppet master.
“Don’t worry, Cath.” He focused his attention back to the woman curled into him, her face pressed into the crook of his neck. He stoked her shoulder and then squeezed her tightly against him. “You and me, kid. I’ve got your back.” And it was definitely a beautiful back.
“Stuck like glue,” she said softly and then turned her face up to look at him. “Tell me again why you left here nine years ago,” she said. “I don’t feel like I really got the whole story from you before. Tell me why you never even took the time to tell me goodbye.”
He was shocked by the sudden change of conversation and by the expectation that gleamed from her eyes. She wanted answers, real answers, not the flimsy excuse he’d offered her before when she’d asked.
He frowned thoughtfully. “That last night we spent together you had a friend come over and the two of you sat on the front porch and talked. Do you remember that?”
She looked puzzled and then nodded and sat up. “Sunny King. She was my very best friend at the time, although her family moved away the following year.” Her frown deepened. “What does she have to do with anything?”
“The two of you were talking very loudly and I was just outside of the stables working so I could hear most of your conversation.” As always, when he thought of that particular night a tight knot formed in his chest, right in the center of his heart.
“I don’t understand. What were we talking about that would make you leave the ranch the next morning?”
“Marriage,” he replied without hesitation.
“We talked about marriage a lot when we were together. She was going to be my maid of honor and I was going to be hers. We talked about color schemes and styles of dresses.” She frowned. “But why would that conversation have made you decide to pick up and leave here?” Leave me? Although she didn’t say those two words aloud he heard them ringing in her voice.
“I heard you tell your friend that your father would expect you to marry some rich, connected man and I suddenly realized I could never be that man. I ran into the stables and my father could tell I was upset. He’s the one who told me that carrying on with you was nothing but foolishness, that not in a million years would a Colton be interested in marrying a ranch hand. He reminded me that you were young and carefree at that time, but soon the responsibilities of your station in life would be the end of us anyway.”
His words tumbled over themselves, the hurt of that night and what he’d overheard her say trapped for so long and now loosened in a way he couldn’t halt.
“Deep in my heart I knew Dad was right, so he hooked me up with the job with his friend in Montana and the next morning at dawn I left. I figured I was getting out of your way so you could grow up and find the kind of man who fit into your family, a man who would please your father.”
She stared at him for several long moments, her eyes holding a well of sadness that resonated inside him. “Oh, Gray, you should have stuck around for the rest of that conversation. You should have heard the part where I told Sunny I didn’t care what my father wanted for me. You should have heard me tell her that I knew what I wanted and that was you and a little ranch where we’d live together and raise cattle and babies.”
The sadness inside him grew exponentially with each word she spoke. He thought of time lost, of passions denied because he’d heard half a conversation and run off half-cocked. And yet another part of him recognized that even if he’d stuck around it didn’t mean a guarantee that there would have ever been any future for them together.
He raced a hand through his hair and released a deep sigh. “I guess at this point it doesn’t make any difference. The past is the past and we can’t go back and change it. Besides, we were so young. I seriously doubt that we would have gone the distance even if I’d stayed here.” He needed to believe that, because he still believed her future didn’t lie with a ranch hand.
“Probably not,” she agreed with a faint cool edge to her voice, an edge that let him know his words had emotionally distanced her from him and that’s exactly what he’d intended. “But you still owed me a goodbye,” she added.
“You’re right. I should have told you goodbye.” He got up from the chaise, needing to physically distance himself from her. “But I didn’t and that was then and this is now.”
There was no way he would tell her now that he couldn’t have told her goodbye, that he’d known if he’d seen her or talked to her one more time he wouldn’t have been able to leave her.
“So, where do we go from here?” she asked. Her gaze fell on the note he’d wadded up and tossed in the center of the coffee table.
“We do the same thing we’ve been doing. Stuck like glue. I told you that I’m here to protect you from anything bad happening to you and nothing has changed that.” He turned away from her, unable to look at her without fearing he’d fall into the depths of her eyes and do something stupid...like tell her he was sorry he’d left, that he’d never stopped loving her. “We should probably start getting ready for dinner,” he said.
She rose from the chaise and disappeared into the bathroom where he knew s
he’d probably change her clothes and freshen up her makeup.
He sank down on the chaise once again and picked up the wadded piece of paper. Spreading it out and reading the words once again, an unexpected chill slowly walked up his spine.
Although he’d tried to downplay the note to Cath, the truth was it scared the hell out of him. A kidnapping for ransom would require that Cath be kept alive, otherwise nobody would ever pay for her return.
This note threatened death and there was no way for him to guess if it was an empty threat or not. He had to take it seriously and he had to wonder what questions he and Cath had asked that had made somebody uncomfortable enough to threaten to kill her?
Who was Faye Donner? And what role did she—even after death—have in what was happening at the Dead River Ranch? What secrets had she taken to her grave and who did those secrets worry?
The only thing he knew for certain was that as he stared at the note in his hand he felt a fear for Cath that he’d never felt before. For the first time since their marriage he hoped and prayed that he was the right man and would be in the right place to save her when danger reared its ugly head again.
And he knew it wasn’t over. The note had raised the stakes in this deadly game somebody was playing. He mentally cursed himself for wadding up the note and allowing Dylan to touch it. What he needed to do was get this note to Chief Peters and see if he could pull some fingerprints off it, somehow identify something about the paper and the writing that might point to a perpetrator.
The stakes had been raised and in the meantime he had one job to do, to keep Cath alive and well.
* * *
Over the next three days life continued as usual, but an anxiety deep in Cath’s heart simmered and never went away. The note they’d received had shaken her up more than she’d expressed to Gray. Somehow, someway, by digging into Faye’s past she and Gray had attracted the attention of somebody who obviously didn’t want anyone asking questions.
And if that particular issue wasn’t enough, there was Gray. Constantly by her side whether they were inside the house or out, he’d continued to show all the characteristics that had made her love him years ago.
In spite of the note and an increased sense of wariness and distrust emanating from him toward everyone else, he kept things light and fun between them. He appeared to be going out of his way to make her happy, to keep her smiling and while she was grateful for his efforts, she never forgot that this all was going to end in a new heartache for her.
She found it tragic that he’d left the ranch so many years ago because he’d believed he wasn’t good enough for her, that somehow she’d stop loving him and find some dandy to marry. She found it heartbreaking that he’d written off those days and nights of love as nothing more than youth and hadn’t believed in the lasting power of that love.
Maybe on his part that was true. He made her believe that he’d moved on from her long ago, that he’d managed to put her where she belonged...in his past. Until now, until danger had circled around her. He’d given no indication that he had any desire to continue their marriage once things were settled and she was safe again.
In fact, he was making plans to move on with his future. He’d already written to the police academy and training center in Cheyenne to get information about becoming a police officer. He was planning a future without her as he should be, and yet she certainly wasn’t ready to let him go now and wasn’t sure she’d ever want him to leave her again.
He now sat on the chaise, reading one of his mysteries, and she was the one who paced the sitting room with restless energy. In a few minutes they would go to dinner, and after that they’d once again lie in bed side by side, careful not to touch until their bodies found each other’s in slumber.
“You’re wearing a rut,” he said, not looking up from the book he held in his hands.
“I know.” She perched on the edge of her chair and wondered why she felt as if a bomb was going to explode at any moment.
It would be Halloween in a week, but nobody in the house had ever done much to celebrate the night. Their ranch was too isolated for trick-or-treaters. Besides, she had a feeling there were already too many ghouls and goblins in the house to suit her.
She released a deep sigh and Gray looked up at her. “What’s wrong? You’ve been on edge all day.”
“I know and I don’t know what’s wrong. I just feel like there’s the portent of a bomb about to explode in the air.”
He smiled at her. “That’s the way I always feel before we go to dinner with your family.”
She returned his smile, acknowledging that dinners were never particularly pleasant. “I hope Agnes cooked something especially good tonight. It feels like it’s been days since lunch.”
Gray laughed. “Your appetite has definitely grown over the past couple of days.”
“It’s the bean,” she replied. “I’ve never been so hungry in my life. I finish one meal and am already looking forward to the next.”
“You must be carrying a boy,” he replied. “Maybe instead of calling it the bean we should start calling it Big Bruiser.”
A giggle escaped her. “That would be a terrible thing if it is a dainty little girl.” Her giggle died as she realized he’d neatly turned the conversation from her anxiety to thoughts of the baby. “Nice work,” she said knowingly. “You managed to calm my nerves.”
He nodded, his features showing his pleasure. “Then my job is done.” He closed the book and set it on the nearby end table. “And now we’d better head to dinner. We wouldn’t want to miss a single snipe from Darla or a whine from Tawny or Trip’s amazing speeches about his sexual prowess.”
Once again Cath laughed, and her love for him expanded her chest a little fuller. She would always remember how easily he’d made her laugh when she’d been tense or anxious just like she would always remember the early mornings when she awakened with their bodies tangled warmly together.
He held on to her elbow as they left the suite and went down the long hallway toward the dining room. Mathilda greeted them before they entered, nodding her head and smiling at the two she still considered newlyweds.
Trevor and Gabby were already seated at the table. Amanda was missing as were Levi and Katie. “Is it just going to be us tonight?” Cath asked as she sat in her chair and Gray eased down next to her.
“I know Amanda got called out for a sick cow. I’m not sure about Levi and Katie, but Darla and her darling children should be showing up anytime,” Gabby said.
“And here I was hoping to eat without indigestion tonight,” Gray replied under his breath. He whooshed out air as Cath elbowed him in the ribs.
“Be nice,” she said. “I’m hungry and I just want to enjoy a peaceful meal.”
At that moment any peace in the room was destroyed as Darla, Tawny and Trip came into the room. Darla took her seat and looked at Cath. “Has there been any change in Jethro?”
“When I spoke to Levi at noon today there had been no change,” Cath replied.
Darla scowled. “You’d think with all his money he could just buy a donor who could give him what he needs to beat this cancer.”
“Don’t forget he was refusing any treatment at all before Levi got here,” Gabby said. “At least Levi managed to talk him into some drug therapy.”
“If we could just find Cole,” Cath said. “Not only would it rally Dad’s spirits, but Cole also might be a perfect match as a donor.”
“For all we know the old man is brain-dead by now,” Trip said. The others at the table gasped. Trip shrugged as if surprised that anyone would find his words shocking. “Come on, he’s been in a coma for a month. Do you really believe that finding his long-lost son is going to make him wake up and jump out of that bed with joy?”
“Jethro isn’t that old,” Trevor said. “He should still have a lot of fight left in him.”
“And I’ve heard that people in comas sometimes hear the people around them talking. Maybe the sound of Col
e’s voice will call him out of the coma,” Gray added, making Cath want to jump out of her chair and give him a hug.
Thankfully Gabby took over the conversation, talking about her work with her kids, the renovations in the big red barn and the lunch she and Trevor had shared the day before at a new restaurant in Laramie.
As the meal was served, Agnes stood in the doorway, her arms folded over her ample bosom and a critical eye on the servers. The only person who terrified the staff more than this short, plump red-haired cook was Bernice with her milky eye whose domain was in the bowels of the house.
Cath smiled at Agnes, seeing that the woman had prepared one of her favorite meals, roasted chicken with crisp cooked carrots and new potatoes. Agnes nodded, then whirled on her tiny feet and disappeared back into the kitchen.
“That woman gives me the creeps,” Tawny said. “She’s like a troll who lives under a bridge and jumps out at you when you least expect it.”
“I went into the kitchen late one night to get a tea bag, and I thought she was going to hit me over the head with a rolling pin,” Darla replied.
Gabby grinned despite Tawny’s less than kind description. “She is very territorial about the kitchen.”
“But nobody can master the art of her roasted chicken,” Cath said, digging into the dish with relish.
“I think that’s the one thing we can all agree on,” Trevor said.
Surprisingly, the dinner remained pleasant, the conversation devoted to favorite foods and Agnes’s specialties. Even Trip stayed on his best behavior and joined in the discussion by praising Agnes’s beef Wellington.
They finished eating and Cath and Gray returned to their suite where Cath sank down on the chaise and released a sigh of contentment. “So, this is the way it’s supposed to feel like after a nice dinner with no stress,” she said.
“Amazing, isn’t it,” Gray agreed as he sank down next to her.
She could tell he was relaxed and she fought the desire to lean into him, to snuggle against him as if their marriage was real and forever, like he would never, ever want to leave her.
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