Rancher Under Cover

by Carla Cassidy

  From the photos he’d seen of her he knew her face had beautiful, delicate features, that her eyes were gray and her lips plump without looking fake.

  At least the intel he’d received that she was coming home from her work in Central America had been true. As her bedroom light went out he walked the short distance to the small corral near his foreman’s cabin; a single horse stood in the center.

  By the brilliant light of the full moon overhead he could see the emaciated condition of the young mare and the festering wounds on her flank that had been made by the rusty old barbed wire she’d tangled with at some point in time.

  “Hey, girl,” he said softly. The horse’s ears flared back as she sidestepped, the whites of her eyes gleaming wildly in the moonlight that spilled down.

  “You and I are going to become friends,” he said. The horse backed up as if to protest his words.

  Rhett remained at the corral for a few more minutes, sweet-talking the horse, who obviously wanted nothing to do with him. He finally left the corral and headed for his room in the nearby building. The horse needed wound care, but she was so stressed he worried she’d either kill herself or kill him if he tried to tend to her.

  He was hoping to gentle her, to get her to trust him enough to allow him to take care of her, but that took time and he wasn’t sure she—or he—had that kind of time.

  All the other ranch hands lived off-site, which was fine with Rhett. He wasn’t here for any male bonding. The last thing he needed was to make friends. His thoughts returned to the woman in the window.

  Surely her presence here would work to his advantage. Mickey O’Donahue would get in touch with the daughter he loved, and if Rhett got close enough to Caitlin O’Donahue then he would be able to find out where the elder O’Donahue was hiding.

  And he needed to find Mickey O’Donahue. Mickey had vital information that affected national security. It was crucial that he find him before other people did, people who wanted Mickey dead.

  The cabin for the ranch foreman was located beside the stables and was small and furnished sparsely, holding a single bed and a chest of drawers. On top of the dresser was a microwave, and a mini refrigerator stood in one corner. The adjoining bathroom held a stool, a sink and a shower. Certainly not the lap of luxury, but it contained everything he needed, and besides, Rhett had been in much worse surroundings.

  It took him only minutes to prepare for bed. He got comfortable, pulled up the sheet and fell asleep thinking about how best to use Caitlin O’Donahue to achieve his ultimate goal.

  It was nine the next morning when he walked to the big house and knocked on the back door, eager to meet Caitlin in person. Esmeralda greeted him with a wide smile as she gestured him into the kitchen.

  “Good morning, Mr. Kane,” she said.

  “Randall, I told you to call me Randall,” he replied with a chiding grin.

  Randall Kane existed for the sole purpose of finding the whereabouts of Mickey. The identity included a résumé of ranch work that would make him a desirable employee, a résumé that was surprisingly close to the life Rhett had led before tragedy had struck. Rhett knew the false identity and the résumé would stand up under normal scrutiny, and he was expecting nothing more than that in this case.

  “Then it’s Randall,” Esmeralda agreed. She nodded and reached a hand up as if to check the tidiness of the dark, plump bun at the nape of her neck as her cheeks pinkened in pleasure. “Would you like a cup of coffee, Randall? I just pulled homemade cinnamon rolls from the oven. Perhaps you’d like one of them?”

  “They smell wonderful, but actually I was just wondering if you’d heard from the boss. I have something to discuss with him.”

  Her smile instantly fell and she shook her head. “No word from the boss, but his daughter, Caitlin, arrived last night. She should be down any minute and you can discuss whatever is necessary with her.” She motioned him to the table. “Sit, and while you wait for her to come down you can have one of my rolls and a cup of fresh coffee.”

  Rhett slid into a chair at the table and watched as Esmeralda poured his coffee and then carried the cup and a saucer with a fat, iced cinnamon roll to him.

  “I hope you slept well, Mr…Randall,” she said as she sat in the chair opposite him.

  He gave her a lazy wink. “When you work hard and live right you sleep like a baby every night.”

  She laughed, as if pleased by his words. He’d worked hard since arriving here to charm the older Hispanic woman, knowing that if for any reason Caitlin didn’t show up at the ranch, the housekeeper might be his only path to finding Mickey O’Donahue’s whereabouts.

  He took a big bite of the cinnamon bun and rolled his eyes heavenward in pleasure. “Esmeralda, these are fit for the gods.”

  The plump housekeeper giggled and preened like a woman half her age. He finished the roll in two more bites.

  “Good morning.”

  Esmeralda jumped out of her chair and Rhett turned to see Caitlin standing in the doorway. She was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a navy T-shirt that clung to her full breasts and emphasized her tiny waist, and her beauty momentarily stole his breath away.

  Her glorious hair was pulled back at the nape of her neck, fully exposing the delicate bone structure of her face and emphasizing her gray eyes. He got up from his chair as she entered the kitchen.

  “Caitlin, this is the man I told you about, the one I hired to take over for Garrett as foreman,” Esmeralda said. “He’s here to discuss some things with you.”

  “Randall Kane.” He walked toward her and held out his hand with a smile.

  She hesitated a beat and then gave his hand a quick, perfunctory shake. “Please, sit.”

  She smelled of something clean and lightly floral, a scent that instantly went to his head and kicked off a slight spark of warmth in the pit of his stomach. He returned to his chair and she slid into the one across from him that Esmeralda had vacated.

  “I knew you’d be down as soon as you smelled these rolls,” Esmeralda exclaimed as she poured Caitlin a cup of coffee and served her one of the hot treats. “My girl loves my cinnamon rolls.”

  Up close Rhett noticed that Caitlin’s eyes weren’t just an ordinary gray, but had indigo rings around the gray. They were beautiful eyes, but at the moment they gazed at him warily. “Where are you from, Mr. Kane?”

  “I grew up in Wyoming,” he replied. “And please, make it Randall. In recent years I’m from no place in particular. I go wherever I can find ranching work.” He consciously willed away thoughts of the woman who had once been his home. The last thing he needed at the moment was to think about the wife he’d lost.

  “Esme mentioned that you have references?”

  He nodded. “I’ve got a résumé in my room. I’ll bring it to you when I get a chance.” He leaned forward and gave her his best charming grin, the one that he knew made the dimples dance in his whiskered cheeks. “Used to be all you needed to do for a ranching job was show up sober two days in a row. Nowadays everyone wants an official computer résumé.”

  “As far as I’m concerned computers are the devil’s work,” Esmeralda exclaimed. “And it’s the same with cell phones and all the other electronic geegaws that suck the brains out of our youth.”

  Rhett laughed and then looked at Caitlin, surprised to see that she had paled to the point that the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose appeared darker than they had moments before. “Are you okay?” he asked curiously.

  “I’m fine.” She wrapped her fingers around her coffee mug, as if seeking the warmth. “You needed to discuss something specifically with me?”

  It was obvious she wanted him to state his business and then get out of her kitchen. “I don’t know what your previous foreman did with his time, but it’s obvious he wasn’t paying attention to the health and welfare of your horses.”

  Her lovely eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “The horses are too lean, and
yesterday afternoon I found one down in a bramble patch on the west side of the property. I don’t know how long she’d been there, but she’d gotten tangled up in some old rusty barbed wire and she has a couple of festering wounds.”

  Caitlin’s cheeks flared with color. “That good-for-nothing Garrett. I knew Dad should have fired him a long time ago. Where’s the mare now?”

  “I managed to get her up and into the small corral, but I haven’t been able to tend to her wounds. She’s scared and so thin I’m afraid the stress might kill her.” A touch of anger lit up inside Rhett. Garrett Simms had obviously been a piss-poor foreman who hadn’t regularly checked on the welfare of the livestock.

  “Why don’t I meet you at the stables in fifteen minutes,” Caitlin said. “We’ll ride the pasture and then I want to see that mare.” She picked up her coffee cup and took a sip, her gaze going to the nearby window.

  Rhett knew it was a dismissal and he got out of his chair and headed for the back door. “I’ll see you out there,” he said and then left the house.

  As he walked back toward the small corral his thoughts raced with his impressions of Caitlin. Beautiful and sexy, there was no question about that, but she wasn’t some bubble-headed woman riding on her outer appearance. There had been a keen intelligence shining from her amazing eyes.

  What had shocked him more than anything was the swift kick of lust that had momentarily flared inside him when he’d been near her.

  She’d certainly seemed unaffected by his attempt to charm her with his smile. In fact, she’d appeared reluctant even to touch his hand for a quick shake.

  Her presence here could either be a gift from fate or a complication. He’d been intent on charming Esmeralda to get the information he needed in case Caitlin didn’t show, but he knew the best way to find out about Mickey O’Donahue’s whereabouts was through his daughter.

  He’d use whatever means necessary to achieve his goal. He could be an accomplished liar and a pleasing lover if his role called for it.

  Despite the fact that he’d felt a kick of desire for her, he didn’t worry about getting his heart involved. He didn’t have a heart to worry about. It had been trampled years ago and had never recovered from the wounds.

  As far as he was concerned this was just another job and Caitlin was simply a hot, sexy mark to be used to get what he needed.

  Chapter 2

  Caitlin wasn’t sure why she was reluctant to meet Randall outside. Although she was worried about the horses, the tall man with the shaggy blond hair and the five-o’clock shadow that darkened his firm jaw was too sexy, far too male for her comfort.

  His brief laughter moments before had sounded nothing like the laughter of the men in the jungle, but for a moment sick memories had slammed into her and she’d felt an internal tremble.

  She lingered over her coffee as Esme left the kitchen to attend to some household chores in another room. Caitlin felt fragile and weariness weighed heavily on her shoulders.

  Terrible nightmares had plagued what little sleep she’d gotten and she’d awakened feeling no more rested than she’d felt before going to bed the night before.

  Glancing at the clock on the stove, she reluctantly got to her feet and carried her cup to the dishwasher. There was a part of her that didn’t want to do anything but go back upstairs to her room and hide. Anxiety simmered inside her, threatening to explode into a full-blown panic attack.

  She’d had enough psychology classes to recognize that what she was experiencing was normal for a woman who had been through what she’d endured. She suffered from more than a little bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. She understood the symptoms, but didn’t feel as if she were in control of any of them.

  She’d also learned in the past two weeks that the easiest way to cope with the emotions that churned just beneath the surface was to completely ignore them. She’d rather be numb than feel anything because she was terrified of what she might feel if she allowed herself.

  With another glance at the clock she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She walked into the living room and to the ornate desk in the corner where a fat ceramic leprechaun smiled from his perch on the top. His stomach was hollow and stored paper clips, thumb tacks and the key to the gun cabinet.

  She plucked out the key and moved to the large glass-enclosed cabinet and withdrew a revolver. After checking that it was loaded and the safety was on she tucked it into her jeans waistband and then returned the key to the leprechaun.

  She knew how to handle a gun, was a good shot. Although her father often encouraged her to carry a gun when she was out riding the range because of wild critters like mountain lions and coyotes, Caitlin rarely did. She’d always figured any animals she might encounter would be more afraid of her than she was of them.

  Today she wanted the weapon with her. She didn’t know what kind of critter Randall Kane might be and she was determined never to be vulnerable again.

  She stepped out the back door and into the warm November sunshine. The air smelled of earth and grass and horse, a familiar scent that momentarily filled her with a sense of home, of safety. However, the sense of safety vanished as she saw Randall Kane near the stables with two saddled horses.

  You can do this, a little voice whispered inside her head. A ride around the pasture to check out the livestock didn’t sound threatening in any way. Still, it would be the first time she’d been all alone with any man since the horrible event in the jungle.

  As she approached him a lazy smile curved his lips and his hot, slightly scruffy handsomeness slammed into her chest with a force that surprised her.

  She ignored the tightness in her chest and instead focused on the fact that one of the horses he’d saddled up was her favorite, Buttercup.

  The horse greeted her with a soft whinny. “Hey, girl,” she said as she stepped closer and rubbed Buttercup’s nose.

  “She looks happy to see you,” Randall said. “One of the other hands told me she’s the one you usually ride.”

  “She’s definitely one of my favorites.” She mounted the horse in a fluid motion that came from years of practice and then looked at Randall expectantly. “Let’s ride.”

  He mounted his horse, Samson, with equal ease. “Are you expecting trouble?” Those gorgeous green eyes of his gazed pointedly at the gun she’d shoved in her waistband.

  “No, just prepared for it if it comes,” she replied and then with a flick of her reins headed toward the distant pastures.

  He rode like a cowboy intimately familiar with the saddle, and she found herself wondering how he’d shown up at the O’Donahue ranch at such an opportune time.

  Caitlin knew her father had been dissatisfied with the former foreman, Garrett Simms, for a long time, but had felt sorry for the alcoholic who played the victim card each time Mickey had tried to fire him.

  But even Mickey wouldn’t be able to overlook the abuse or neglect of any of his beloved horses, and there was no way Simms would be welcomed back this time. If nothing else she’d make sure of that.

  She glanced at the man next to her and told herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Who knew why his timing was so perfect? The fact of the matter was, he was here and he seemed competent, and that would do until her father got home.

  All thoughts of the man fled from her mind as the herd of horses came into view. Mickey O’Donahue had never wanted to raise champion race horses; rather he’d made part of his massive fortune raising good-natured saddle stock that was sold to individuals and various stables around the country.

  The herd consisted of Tennessee walkers, mustangs and American quarter horses in a variety of colors and sizes. Caitlin pulled the reins to bring Buttercup to a halt and Randall reined in next to her.

  “The pasture is a bit thin from lack of rain,” he said. “What I’d like to do is add some oat hay into their diets until spring.”

  The horses did look lean…a little too lean. “Sounds reasonable,”
she agreed. “We work with Wilson’s Feed Store. I’ll call them when we get back to the house and place an order. They should be able to deliver it first thing in the morning.”

  He nodded and then pointed into the distance. “Over there by the fence is where I found the mare tangled up in the barbed wire.”

  She headed for the area with Randall close behind. Once again they came to a halt and she looked around with a frown. “I can’t imagine how any barbed wire got here. Dad has never used it anywhere on the property.” Despite the higher cost, solid wooden fences surrounded the pastures on the O’Donahue ranch. Mickey had never considered the cheaper alternative of barbed-wire fencing.

  “It looked as if somebody had just driven by and tossed it out of a truck or something,” he replied. “After I got the horse loose I pulled it all out and took it to the dump.”

  She slid another glance his way, once again wondering where he’d come from and how he’d wound up here. “I’d like you to bring me that résumé we discussed earlier sometime this afternoon,” she said.

  “Not a problem,” he replied agreeably. He shifted his weight in the saddle. “I understand you’ve been out of the country for a while.”

  “For a couple of months. I’m a plastic surgeon and was working in South America with Doctors Without Borders.”

  “Wow, must have been an amazing experience.”

  A sudden surge of emotion rose up in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard against it. Amazing wasn’t exactly the adjective she’d use to describe her experience.

  “I’m ready to see that mare now.” She turned Buttercup around and as she headed back to the house she allowed the horse full rein. Buttercup responded by breaking into a run.

  Caitlin hunkered low, the breeze in her face, the power of the animal beneath her easing some of the tension that had coiled tight inside her in the time since the attack.

  She was vaguely conscious of her hair coming loose, flying wildly around her head as Buttercup raced like the wind. A sweet exhilaration filled her.

  She’d needed this…the wild abandon that coursed through her as she became one with the powerful horse. She gave herself to the moment, giving up any effort of control as she raced across the pasture.