“And maybe she wouldn’t have. What then?”
“Aw, hell.” Walker leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest. His glare made it plain that he didn’t plan to answer any more of Cade’s questions.
Cade looked at Asa. “You’re an old friend. A good one. I won’t tell you who to hire and who to fire. That’s your call. But I will tell you to send this one back to the ranch if you plan to keep him on. I don’t need him here.”
Walker stood up before either of the older men had a chance. “You’re going to be sorry about this. I didn’t do anything wrong. And that punk Luke’s going to be sorry to.”
“Shut up, damn it.” Asa’s tone brooked no argument as he stood and slapped his hat on his head. He shook Cade’s hand and thanked him. He placed a hard hand on Walker’s shoulder, propelling him through the door that Cade held open for their exit.
Cade had that feeling of being watched and turned to find Trouble taking his measure. When the cat stood and stretched, Cade suspected he’d passed some kind of test.
CHAPTER NINE
M alone fit her western hat a bit more snugly on her head and took a deep breath. She fought the urge to dismount and check her girth or the wrap on the front boots. She’d checked both only moments ago. So much was riding on this moment, so much preparation and hard work for this talented gelding’s owner, for Malone herself. They were as ready as they would ever be. Malone heard her name on the loudspeaker as being next to run. Another deep breath and it was time to move into the alley. No time, no need to check anything. Time to go.
The gelding held tight in the turns, flicked his ears and listened to every quietly spoken request, heeded every light touch on the reins, every easy nudge of a booted heel. Malone marveled that, even with the stakes this high, she was relaxed, thinking and acting rather than reacting. It was a good run. She knew it before they reached and rounded the third barrel. Their time was going to be good, something to be proud of, and, if she was blessed, something that would result in another paycheck.
As she passed the timers and slowed her horse, she sensed rather than saw the cowboy step from the side of the alleyway just beyond the gate and, for a moment, her heart lifted and she felt like that teenaged girl again. But it wasn’t Cade who reached up to put a steadying hand on the gelding’s reins.
“Great run, Malone.”
She sighed, irritated at her own disappointment, and swung down from the saddle. “I thought you were in hiding.”
Tyge gave her a familiar lopsided grin that did nothing to hide the look of strain in his eyes. “Too much unfinished business.”
For a long moment, Malone said nothing as she studied his face, the lines that hadn’t been as deep the last time she’d seen him. She’d cared a lot for him once upon a time. A part of her would probably always care – at least a little. But that was a road she wouldn’t travel again. “Just keep me out of it, will you?”
“That’s what I’m trying to do, babe. I promise.”
Malone turned to walk away.
“I need you to call me if anybody bothers you.”
Swinging back on one heel, Malone felt an all-too-accustomed and unwelcome rise of tension. “I have a feeling if you stay away from me, I won’t have any problem.”
Tyge looked at her a long moment. “If I thought that was true, you’d never have to lay eyes on me again. I swear to God. I need you to be careful. Please?”
Malone could feel his stare on her back as she led the gelding away. Joss caught up with her halfway to the barn, her face flushed with excitement and admiration. “You’re holding the lead, Malone!”
Despite the exchange with Tyge, it wasn’t as much effort as Malone thought it would be to smile at Joss’ enthusiasm. “There’s a few more super nice horses to go,” she cautioned but, still, it had been a truly good run.
She ran her hand along the gelding’s neck as she and Joss walked companionably. Malone crooned her pleasure to the horse and smiled her thanks to those she passed who congratulated her on having a fast, clean pattern.
“You have a lot of friends,” Joss commented as they reached the barn.
“We’re as much family as friends, I think. We compete in the same circuit, spend a lot of time on the road together. There’s always someone to lend a helping hand. If somebody needs me, I stop what I’m doing and help where I can.”
“But you’re competing against each other.”
Malone chuckled. “Not really. Not most of us. We’re competing against the clock. Or ourselves. I’m never out to beat any other barrel racer, just always trying to beat my own last performance.”
Joss fell silent and Malone supposed she’d given the girl food for thought. Going for casual, she said, “I didn’t get to watch the calf roping. How did Frank and Luke do, do you know?”
“Third, I think. That’s good, isn’t it?”
Well, that answered her question. Joss had cared enough to watch Luke rope and enough to pay attention to the other times to figure out where he was sitting in the go-round. But all she said was, “Just being here is good. Pulling a check for third place is pretty fantastic.”
They turned a corner in the barn and Cade straightened from his comfortable prop against the stall, Trouble and Townsend at his feet. Malone felt that lift again and fought to quell it.
“Nice job.” Simple words.
Malone smiled. “Thanks.”
“Shall I unsaddle?” The hint of impatience in Joss’ tone made Malone wonder how long she and Cade had been standing there staring at each other.
“I’ve got this,” Malone said. “Why don’t you start getting ready for the reception?”
Joss frowned at her. “I’m not going.”
“Of course, you are. All of the contestants and their families go.” Malone had thought Joss was adapting to the family atmosphere of the rodeo crowd and was dismayed at her refusal. Besides that, Joss would be better with her than alone in the trailer half the night. When Joss’ expression turned mulish, Malone tried tempting her. “Luke will be looking all over for you.”
“I’m not a contestant or family.”
“You’re my family at the moment.”
Malone was almost surprised when Cade broke in. “You’ll be with the two of us, Joss. It will be fine. It’s a fun event, food and a band and it only lasts a couple of hours. You’ll enjoy yourself. I’ll make sure of that. Go get ready. I’ll help Malone.”
And just like that, Malone realized, he’d paired them together. That didn’t set well with her but now wasn’t the time to argue the point. She wanted Joss to be comfortable enough to go with her. Besides, there was something in Cade’s tone that caught and turned her attention. He wanted to talk with her about Joss, most likely this morning’s incident.
Joss wavered, looking from one to the other. Her gaze came to rest on Malone. “I don’t know what to wear.”
Malone tilted her head, thinking through the clothes she’d brought on the trip. “Find some leggings or jeggings. There’s a long emerald green sweater in one of the drawers or the closet. You’ll like it and it will look great on you. I’ll be there soon.”
As Joss turned to go, Malone noticed Trouble leave his cozy position in the stall shavings to follow. She thought he gave Cade’s Australian Shepherd a supercilious look but she had too much on her mind to dwell on that.
She tied the gelding and began untacking him. “What happened with Joss?” She had deliberately not asked the girl any questions and Joss wasn’t ready to talk about it.
Cade sighed as he lifted the saddle from the gelding’s back. “A punk cowboy messed with her a little. Wanted to see her hair and apparently got a little obnoxious in his insistence.”
“Apparently?” Malone fought to keep hold of her temper.
“Either that or Luke over reacted. When I got there, they were taking swings at each other. A couple of them connected. Joss was pretty shaken up but not harmed.”
“Who is he?”
/> Cade laughed softly, “And at the end of that question, I hear the unspoken death threat.”
Malone laid her forehead against the gelding’s warm neck. That was exactly what she was feeling but she didn’t say so. She felt Cade touch her hair.
“I’m almost sorry I can’t turn you lose on him. Roland Walker is one of Asa’s hands. I told Asa to get him off the grounds and out of here. It didn’t matter if he fired him or sent him back to the ranch but he wasn’t working the event.”
She stepped back. That should have prompted Cade to drop his hand but he twined his fingers in her hair and tugged gently until she moved closer. For a moment, she let herself lean against his chest. With a deep breath, she straightened and said, “Go away, Cade. This isn’t going to happen.”
“It just did,” he told her softly before he let her go.
She wouldn’t let herself watch him walk away. But she wanted to.
IT WOULD BE MOST helpful if I had more information. But, alas, so it is at the beginning of any investigation. I must start with nothing, putting little together with little more, and produce amazing answers and astounding deductions. It is, quite simply, what I do. And I do it well.
But a starting point is critical. Unfortunately, I have more than one, and everything appears to be unrelated. As much as I enjoy the tempting layout of food, I must take this opportunity whilst competitors and rodeo staff are entertained to nose about a bit. But one last visit to the Amazonian brunette manning the generous display of roasted meats would not be amiss, I’m sure. And isn’t that an interesting spin of words. Why did humankind not coin the word ‘womanning’ when describing a person who attends to the success of a certain task? In general, I’ve found the female of the species to be a bit more cognizant of the critical aspects of such an undertaking.
Ah, see there! She has noticed my proximity to her post though I approach from a side angle and without fanfare. She lifts a plate and begins arranging the most delectable selections, nothing dry, nothing unappealingly spiced. Barbeque sauce, I shudder at the thought. Intuitively, she allows nothing of that nature to touch my plate. She places it on the floor beneath the table at her feet, ensuring I will not be trampled by the masses. Hers is the most popular table, though I’m not certain if that is because of the prime rib or succulent pork roast or the lovely Amazon herself.
If she treats every ‘repeat’ customer with the dignity, recall of preferences, and eye for comfort and safety as she does myself, then that would be explanation in itself.
Now that I am fortified, I must brave the sharp chill of late night and continue to earn my name as one of the foremost in the tomes of famous detectives. I don’t aspire to replace my father who is at the very lead, but I shall not rest until I feel myself worthy of being regarded as his equal. Humankind may have placed me there, as I have heard it said, but there’s no resting upon those laurels. I must earn that title in my own estimation.
I wait at one of the entrances until it opens to a pair of nicely booted feet. They are wearing the luxury of Lucchese, I do believe, that most famous Texas brand founded by Italian emigrant, Salvatore Lucchese in the 1800’s. That brand has been worn by some of the most famous personages throughout the 1900’s and is sought after to this day. I’m pleased at what I recall from my research into my current environment. Knowledge is power.
With a sense of fortitude, I exit and move forward on light feet toward the less traveled, business end of the facilities where stock contractors load and unload their prized animals.
I have given significant amount of thought to information Deputy Marshal Ryder shared. He implied that more than horses and cattle were being moved from place to place by some elements of the rodeo world. Drug and gun trafficking from Mexico is well-known to be heavy along the corridors that cross the lower United States. We’re central to that here, however, certain addictions are thriving throughout the continental states and drugs must reach those far flung places by some means. What better method than the ever-popular rodeo which has found a place in nearly every state if memory serves - as mine always does.
One never knows what one might learn when humans are otherwise occupied. The odors of heroin and the like are each distinct. I’m confident in my ability to detect the smallest whiff. While humans have elected to train canines to perform certain tasks, including drug detection, I believe that is only because they have accepted the fact that felines are not amenable to learning tricks. Admittedly, it did cross my mind to bring Townie along, but only for a moment. He’s a nice enough chap and not without a certain intelligence but clumsy in my estimation and this is a situation that calls for stealth.
I’ve no doubt I shall fare much better without his presence.
STEPPING out of the trailer with Joss, Malone acknowledged a pleasant sense of anticipation for the night ahead. There would be camaraderie and banter and laughter. And there would be music, though she had no intention of dancing. She’d loved it once and probably still did if the truth was told. It just wasn’t a thing she indulged in anymore. There were many idle pleasures she no longer allowed herself. Life’s lessons had been hard but she’d learned them well and felt no bitterness for the fact. Life was good and tonight she was eager to see old friends she hadn’t seen in a while.
Before they’d gone more than a few steps, Joss slowed then stopped. Malone glanced her way, prepared to offer encouragement for the festivities ahead. The color had faded from the girl’s face as she stared at a point just over Malone’s shoulder.
Malone tensed as she turned to look. Roland Walker stood opposite her trailer, his back propped against a light pole, arms crossed in front of his chest. But where Joss undoubtedly felt fear, Malone felt only fury. “Wait here.”
Joss shook her head and opened her mouth to speak but, before she could protest, Malone said firmly, “No argument.”
Malone strode to where the cowboy waited with a sneer on his face. He straightened slightly when she showed no sign of stopping until she was in his face. “You moron! You complete and utter idiot.”
“You’ll want to be a little careful with those insults.”
“No, you’ll want to be a little careful, you jackass! You’ve got about five minutes to disappear and I’d better not ever see you so much as looking sideways at Joss again.”
“What’s that girl to you?”
The effrontery of the question surprised her but she didn’t hesitate. “I’m not sure what you’re asking me or why you think you have the right to ask but I’ll tell you she’s in my care. Ask someone who knows me what that means. Now get out of my sight.”
For just a moment, she thought he might challenge her, but he pushed away from the pole, gave a last look toward the trailer, then turned and walked away. His footsteps echoed on the pavement as he disappeared into the dark beyond the soft glow of the security light.
CADE WALKED into the open area that had been set up for the opening night reception. The outer perimeter was distinguished by at least a dozen tables. Each was draped in black linen and laden with appetizers, meats, seafood, vegetables, or bread. Aleta had outdone herself in her instructions to the caterers. He noted with amusement that the meat tables outnumbered the remaining tables by half. Wise woman.
The DJ played a familiar country artist at an acceptable sound level but no one had taken to the dance floor. He knew they might not. Most cowboys preferred more than a couple of drinks before braving the dance floor and, though Aleta had made sure to have a good offering of higher class beer and wine available, he knew there’d be only moderate alcohol consumption tonight. This was a highly motivated group of competitors and their focus this week wasn’t hard partying. They were here to win, and that meant nothing to excess. But they all enjoyed the appreciation for their hard work and their support of the association that the reception was intended to convey.
As his gaze swept the room, Cade didn’t try to pretend to himself that he was doing anything but looking for one brown-haired, brown-eye
d drum runner. He’d missed her for so many years it had turned into a dull ache. He’d pushed thoughts of her to the back of his mind and heart while he earned a living in the sport he loved, vacationed in places most people only dreamed of, and drifted through several long-term relationships that never quite went anywhere. And now he knew why they hadn’t and none ever would. Having Malone at the back of his mind had only meant she was deeply rooted and always there. He finally accepted she always would be and he was determined to get it right this time. He only hoped she wouldn’t prove just as determined to deny him that chance. Malone was one hard-headed cowgirl.
It was her hair, the rich shimmer of what should have been just brown but was so much more, that caught Cade’s attention and pulled his gaze to Malone. Her back was to him and her shoulders were squared for a fight. She had Asa Morrissette in her line of sight. Cade started their way.
Asa looked as miserable as any real gentleman would be as he tried to fend off the fury of her comments. Cade heard a few of her castigations as he got closer. He understood her distress, but he also understood an employer couldn't necessarily screen his help for negative personality traits. Some, like Asa and other stock contractors, had to focus on knowledge of livestock and physical ability. They also needed hands willing to labor long, hard hours in temperature extremes from sweltering summer to winters of ice. Sometimes that came with honesty and integrity and a well-mannered disposition and sometimes it didn’t.
Asa saw him coming and his eyes widened with relief. “Cade.”
Malone turned at the sound of his name and Cade gave her a quick, appreciative glance. She’d traded jeans and boots for a long turquoise tunic of some sort, belted at the waist, over leggings that – while they looked warm – also looked sexy as hell. She said ‘hi’ but he couldn’t tell if she was glad to see him. She was much too angry with Asa for any other consideration.
“Malone, all I can tell you is I’m sorry and there won’t be any more trouble from Roland.”
Turning for Trouble: Book 7 of Cat Detective Familiar Legacy mystery series Page 8