Hard Ride to Dry Gulch

by Joanna Wayne

  Leif and Travis added their agreement.

  “You don’t have to tell me twice, lover boy.” Hadley handed Adam an apron and kissed him on the cheek. “Besides, I’d best check on Angela and make sure Lacy and Lila haven’t worn her out.”

  “It was thoughtful of her to take them outside to catch fireflies while we visited over dessert.”

  “I think the girls with their energy and giggles are just what Angela needs,” Faith said.

  “I’d love to hear her life story,” Joni interjected, “but no rush. I know everything is still part of an ongoing investigation.” She put her arm around Faith’s waist. “I’m just glad you’re both here on the ranch with friends and family. One of the things I’ve learned from my brilliant, marvelous husband is that everything is easier to face when you’re with people who love you.”

  Faith wasn’t actually family, but she had to admit she felt more at home here tonight than she had anywhere since Cornell’s disappearance.

  But then anywhere with Travis might feel like that.

  * * *

  R.J. STAYED AT the table nursing a cup of decaf coffee that had grown cold. He looked surprised when the men rejoined him, each with a cold beer in hand.

  He pushed his cup away. “Where’s Gwen?”

  “Do you mean Mattie Mae or Hadley?” Adam asked.

  “If I’d meant ’em I would have said ’em. What did you do with Gwen?”

  It was the same name he’d asked about the night of the wedding reception, when Travis had found him disoriented and confused.

  “Gwen don’t like beer in the house. If she sees you guys with those beers, she’s gonna throw you out.”

  “It’s okay,” Adam said, trying to calm him. “She’s probably already gone to bed. Why don’t I walk you to your bedroom and then we’ll throw out the beers?”

  “You better. She gets so mad she’s like a cranky mule. No reasoning with that woman.”

  “You got that right,” Adam agreed. “Let her sleep. I’ll take care of things in here.” He helped R.J. from his chair and then led him out of the dining room.

  “What’s with all the Gwen stuff?” Travis asked when Adam returned.

  “Time travel, we think. Gwen was the middle name of his first wife, though who knows if that’s the Gwen he’s looking for. His doctor said it’s not unusual for a brain-tumor patient to confuse the past with the present. It also happens with a lot of healthy elderly folks.”

  “Does he get confused like that often?”

  “Usually once or twice a week, but it never lasts long. It usually occurs when he’s excited or upset about something. He’s been worried about you and Faith ever since you flew to Laredo.”

  “How much does he know about that?”

  “Just what I told him on the phone yesterday,” Leif said. “That you found her missing son and he’s in the hospital. I didn’t mention the shooting or the arrest, so he thinks Cornell is sick.”

  “I don’t know much more than that,” Adam admitted. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “Actually, it is,” Travis said. “Leif and I talked just before dinner, but I won’t make any decisions about having Faith and Angela stay here unless you okay my plan. After all, this is your home. I’m the outsider.”

  “Then let’s hear it.”

  “Better get another beer first,” Travis said. “This gets complicated.”

  An hour later, they’d agreed on a plan that they could all live with. Hadley and the girls would spend a few days with her mother, a visit they’d already been talking about.

  Joni would have the option of staying with the Lamberts for a few days or at the big house anytime she was at the ranch when Leif wasn’t around. That wouldn’t be often, since most of the day she was making her rounds as a large-animal vet.

  Angela, Faith and R.J. would have two police officers on duty at the ranch house anytime Travis couldn’t be there to protect them. That way, if any of them left the house to go horseback riding or just to get outdoors for a walk, they could have an armed bodyguard with them.

  “How do you think R.J. will react to having guards around?” Travis asked.

  “I’ll tell him they’re some of your cop friends, just here on vacation to do some riding and get in some target practice,” Leif said.

  Adam nodded. “R.J. will buy that and talk their ears off. I’m a former marine, you know. Getting in some target practice of my own against a man like Georgio would be downright fun. But do you really think he’d be crazy enough to try to get to Angela or Faith out here at the Dry Gulch Ranch, where any one of us might see him?”

  “No,” Travis admitted. “Georgio normally plays it smart. No witnesses. No obvious risks. But if he thinks Cornell told Faith something that implicates Georgio in the smuggling or Walt’s murder, he’ll be desperate to shut her up. And Angela definitely knows too much, so he might be just as desperate to silence her.”

  “Time to take him down,” Adam muttered. “And would I love to be the one who did it!”

  Travis lifted his empty beer bottle in a toast. “Get in line, podner.”

  “Hate to break up a good battle-strategy session,” Adam said a few minutes later, “but I’ve got two little girls who are hopefully ready for bed.”

  They all walked him to his truck. Travis, Faith and Angela waved goodbye to the others from the driveway.

  The moon came out from behind a cloud and frosted the world in silver as they climbed the stairs to the porch. Faith waited for Travis to catch up with her, and he wondered if she had any idea of the sensual upheaval she caused him.

  He should hate being here at the ranch. But how could he hate anyplace that included Faith? Unwanted urges surged, making his mind soft and his need rock hard.

  Angela reached the door before them. “You have a really nice family, Detective Travis. You’re lucky.”

  Thankfully, her interruption of his lustful thoughts cooled his desire enough that the bulge in his jeans didn’t give him away.

  “My family life growing up was far from normal,” he answered truthfully. “But I am lucky that I didn’t let my rotten childhood poison me on life.”

  “I wish I’d been that smart.”

  “You’re young, Angela,” Faith reminded her. “You still have time to turn your life around.”

  “Not if Cornell goes to prison for killing Walt. I won’t deserve to be happy if that happens. It was my fault, even though if Cornell hadn’t killed him Georgio would have.”

  “What makes you think that?” Travis asked.

  “I heard Georgio tell him that one more screwup and there would be hell to pay.”

  “When did he say that?”

  “Two days before Walt was killed.”

  That added a lot of weight to Travis’s hunch that Georgio had been behind the murder all along.

  “How did you ever get mixed up with a man like Walt?” Faith asked.

  “He was big and tough and he looked out for me. I’d never had anyone want to protect me before. But then he started roughing me up and I knew he was just like my stepfather. Mean to the bone.”

  Kind of like Travis’s early foster parents. Thanks to R.J. never coming for him and Leif after their mother died.

  Angela opened the door and stepped inside. “I’m going to bed now, but thanks for everything, Detective and Mrs. Ashburn. I’ll be praying for Cornell.”

  “Me, too,” Faith said. She reached over and gave Angela a hug.

  A nice gesture, Travis thought, a hug for the young woman who’d been the root of all Cornell’s misfortunes. Faith was far more forgiving than he had ever been.

  He walked Faith to the guest room. She lingered at the door, looking up at him in the dim glow of moonlight filtering through the window at the end of
the hall.

  A ravenous hunger that mere food would never satisfy rocked through him.

  “I don’t know what I would have done without you,” she whispered.

  “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.” He trailed his fingers down her right cheek and the smooth column of her neck. He ached to kiss her, had to keep reminding himself that she was vulnerable, under his protection, nowhere near ready to deal with all that he was feeling.

  And then she kissed him. One long, wet, sweet, tantalizing kiss that delivered a jolt clear to his toes—and elsewhere. He was on fire when she pulled away.

  “Good night, Detective.”

  “That’s it?”

  “For now.”

  She backed away, closed the door and left him standing there. He walked away, still trying to get a handle on what had just happened. All he was sure of was that he needed a very cold shower tonight.

  And tomorrow he’d need to find a way to prove that Cornell Ashburn was as innocent as his mother believed.

  Without that, Travis might never get to see where that kiss could lead.

  * * *

  FAITH SLEPT LATER than she had in days. She woke to bright rectangles of sunlight pouring through the slats in the blinds and to the taste of the heart-stopping kiss still on her lips.

  She kicked the sheet away and threw her feet over the side of the bed. The thrill of the kiss continued to titillate her senses as she padded to the bathroom.

  Looking back on last night, she wasn’t sure why she’d pulled away. She could have slept in his arms. Could have made love to him and woken up to his naked body stretched between her sheets.

  But it wouldn’t have been right. Not yet. Not with Cornell in a coma, not even aware that he was safe and home again.

  When she made love to Detective Travis Dalton, she wanted everything to be perfect.

  She splashed cold water on her face and smoothed her hair. She’d have breakfast and then see if Travis would drive her to the hospital.

  Her cell phone rang and she hurried back to get it from her bedside table. She checked the caller ID. It was the trauma center. Calling this early had to mean something was wrong.

  Her blood ran cold.

  “Hello?”

  “I’m calling for Faith Ashburn.”

  “This is she.”

  “I have good news, Mrs. Ashburn. Cornell has come out of the coma and he’s asking for you.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Travis drove Faith to the hospital. They took the elevator to the trauma unit and went directly to the nurses’ station, as she’d been instructed, and asked for Betty Norton, the head nurse.

  The nurse was smiling when she greeted them. “You must be Cornell’s mother.”

  “Yes. I’m Faith and this is Detective Dalton.”

  “You got here quicker than expected.”

  “I may have exceeded the speed limit a few times,” Travis admitted.

  “Are you a relative of the patient?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m a friend of the family’s, but I am with the Dallas Police Department.”

  “But you’re not here as an officer?”

  “Not this morning.”

  “I have to ask, because no one with law enforcement has clearance to talk with the patient yet—doctor’s orders.”

  “He’s only here as a friend,” Faith assured her. “Is there anything else I should know before I see my son?”

  “Only that the doctor does not want the patient to become stressed. Keep things on a light note. If he starts to get upset, I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

  “I understand. May I see him now?”

  “Yes. Just don’t be upset when he exhibits confusion. That’s to be expected. Even though he asked for you, he may not recognize you at once.”

  Faith hadn’t thought of that possibility.

  “Visiting times will be limited until his lead doctor indicates otherwise,” the nurse continued. “You can have thirty minutes with him, but then he’ll need to rest.”

  “How often can I return?”

  “Every two hours, unless the visits unduly upset him.”

  As badly as Faith wanted to see Cornell, the warnings were making her increasingly anxious. She didn’t want to do anything to cause him to suffer a setback.

  Ten months without knowing where he was or if he was dead or alive. Ten months of longing to hear his voice. Now he might not even recognize her.

  Travis took her hand, as always seeming to read her fears. “It’s going to be fine. Just don’t expect too much too soon. Give him time to open up to you.”

  “I’ll try.”

  The nurse led them to his room and the cop standing guard gave them clearance to enter.

  A lump formed in Faith’s throat. She couldn’t swallow. Her hands were clammy. Her stomach was churning.

  Travis opened the door and silently nudged her inside with a hand to the small of her back. The nurse followed them.

  Cornell’s eyes were closed. The tube had been removed from his throat, but there was an IV needle in his arm. The monitors were on, clicking rhythmically.

  “Say his name softly,” the nurse urged.

  “Cornell.”

  His eyes opened a slit. He closed them and then opened them again, wider this time. He looked from Faith to Travis but showed no sign of recognition.

  “I’m your mother, Cornell. It’s me.”

  He ran the tip of his swollen tongue across his chapped lips. The nurse dipped a cloth in a bowl of water and handed it to Faith. “His lips are dry. Why don’t you wet them for him?”

  She took the cloth and gingerly dabbed his mouth. “I love you, Cornell. I’ve missed you so much. I’m glad you’re home.”

  “Mom?”

  Her heart sang. “Yes, son.”

  “What happened to me?”

  “You were in an accident, but you’re in the hospital and the doctors and nurses are taking very good care of you.”

  The nurse smiled, patted Faith’s arm approvingly and tiptoed out of the room.

  “What kind of accident?” Cornell asked.

  She looked to Travis. He nodded for her to tell Cornell the truth.

  “You were shot.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but we’re going to find out.”

  “Did you call the school?”

  “The school?”

  “To tell them I won’t be there today?”

  He was more confused than she’d guessed. It was as if he’d never left home.

  “The school knows you’re out,” she said. “They said to take as long as you need to recover.”

  He looked at Travis. “Who are you?”

  “A friend of your mother’s.”

  “I’ve never seen you before.”

  “No, but I hope we’re going to become good friends.”

  Faith had to smile at that. Her anxiety began to dissipate. Cornell might have been forced into a life of smuggling, but deep down he was the same as he’d always been. A good kid. With a good heart. He couldn’t have possibly killed Walt Marshall or anyone else in cold blood.

  When his memory returned, he’d tell them that. He’d explain everything.

  “Do you think I could have a Coke?”

  “I’ll see.”

  “If not, just get me some water. My mouth feels like I’ve been eating sand.”

  “I’ll bet it does.”

  “I’m sorry, Mom....”

  “You don’t have to be sorry, Cornell. Whatever happened...”

  “Yeah, I know, not my fault. But if you have to take your sick days to take care of me, you won’t ever get to go on that cruise to Bermuda y
ou’ve been saving for.”

  “You take care of getting well, and I’ll make sure she goes on that cruise,” Travis offered. “Is that a deal?”

  “Yeah. Deal.” Cornell closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

  Tears filled Faith’s eyes as she wiped his mouth again with the damp cloth.

  “He didn’t kill anyone, Travis. We can’t let him go to prison. You have to find a way to prove he’s innocent.”

  “I’m working on it. All I need is proof of his innocence.”

  “You’ll get it. As soon as Cornell can explain everything.”

  He was glad one of them believed in miracles.

  * * *

  “ARE YOU SURE you’re not so hung up on this woman you barely know that you’re feeding into her delusions?”

  “I told you, I’m following a hunch.”

  Reno shook his head. “If Cornell didn’t commit the murder, what did Georgio use to blackmail him into smuggling the artifacts into the country?”

  Travis pushed a stack of folders aside and propped his feet on his cluttered metal desk. “That’s the little detail I haven’t quite figured out.”

  “If that’s a little detail, the Gulf of Mexico is a nice little fishing pond.”

  “My hunch isn’t that far-fetched. Look at the facts I’ve put together.” Travis pointed to a chart he’d hung on his office wall. “Up until the time he met Angela Pointer, Cornell had no criminal record. No juvenile charges. No school offenses. He’s never even been suspended.”

  “Right. Good kid. I get that part of it. Kids can change.”

  “Walt Marshall is a hothead with a rap sheet long enough to paper your bathroom wall. Lots of people would probably have loved to put a bullet in him, including Georgio Trosclair.”

  “You don’t have proof of that.”

  “I have no reason not to believe Angela.”

  “Except for her statement that Cornell killed Walt.”

  “She wasn’t there when Walt was shot.”

  “Even if Georgio paid or persuaded Cornell to kill Walt, that’s still murder.”

  “But what if he didn’t kill him?” Travis argued. “What if Georgio or one of his paid thugs actually pulled the trigger and made Cornell believe he did it?”