Chapter Five
“Imbécile! How could you have let her escape?” Etienne Gascoigne’s voice rose to a furious pitch.
“This situation should never have been allowed to get out of hand. How do you explain your inability to capture one small female, Frenchy?”
He sighed deeply as the voice on the phone blustered the reasons for their failure. He pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience.
John Whitehead was a fool—first, for letting gambling become an obsession, second for allowing a pissant bookie like Roland Bracewell to become a blackmailer. Bracewell was a two-bit hustler, a small fry who was beneath Gascoigne’s notice.
If banker Whitehead had controlled his desire to gamble, he would never have needed to resort to making fraudulent loans to come up with the sums he required to support his habit. That was not Gascoigne’s concern, however. Whitehead was welcome to his habit; it kept him under their control. But he should have been smarter about covering his tracks.
“You know I will not tolerate failure. You find that woman and bring her back here, whatever it takes. Until we are certain of the extent of her knowledge, she must not be left on her own. Do you understand me, Frenchy? Whatever it takes, comprends?” He slammed down the receiver and began to pace.
Whitehead had been useful to them in the past; he could still be useful in the future, if this distasteful situation could be resolved favorably. As a Senior Vice President, he had the authority to place their various legitimate cash businesses on the bank’s list of companies whose currency transactions need not be reported to the government. That greatly enhanced their ability to launder money. It would not be so easy to groom a replacement if Whitehead were rendered useless.
Gascoigne turned to the man who waited patiently for his orders. “What luck are you having tracing Bracewell?” He listened intently for moment, suppressing the urge to pound the desk.
Bracewell must also be found. He must turn over the evidence he had collected. He, of course, could not be allowed to live once he did. The niece was more problematical. Armand St. Claire’s high visibility in the community created difficulties, as did his straight-arrow reputation. Gascoigne hoped the woman would continue to be neutralized with the threat of harm to her family—that had proven an effective ploy. Perhaps he had erred in sending his men after her; her fear alone might have caused her to stay away for a long time. He had to give Frenchy that much; the man’s usual brutal tactics had certainly proven effective in terrifying her.
Gascoigne turned to his minion, pinning him with a menacing stare. His voice quietly intense, he spoke once more.
“Find Bracewell.”
And Frenchy, you lovely bestial machine, find the woman.
Chapter Six
Sammie stretched, arching her back like a cat. A sense of well-being suffused her.
Then reality flooded back, and she remembered all she’d fled.
How trouble had already caught up with her once.
How she couldn’t go home or she’d endanger her family.
Sound filtered in…cattle bawling, the voices of men. The whinny of horses.
She was really on a ranch. In some part of Texas she could barely identify. The breeze was cool in the early morning, and the scent of honeysuckle drifted through the screen.
She wrinkled her nose in delight. She always connected that scent with her maternal grandmother. At Nana’s house, the bedroom in which she slept had its window shaded by a trellis bowed under the weight of thick, lush honeysuckle. In the spring and summer, she would awaken to its aroma. To this day, she connected the aroma with a feeling of safety, of being cherished.
She arose from the bed and walked to the window, then leaned on the windowsill. Sure enough, a fence was covered with honeysuckle close by. Activity off to her right drew her eye. She quickly spotted Case on horseback, recognizing him in spite of the straw cowboy hat that shielded his face. He wore leather work gloves, jeans, a khaki shirt and boots. He and the big roan moved as one, working the cattle, cutting this one and that out of the herd and guiding them to the two gooseneck trailers lined up near the corrals.
This, she realized, was his natural element. He might drive a truck, for whatever reason, but he belonged on this ranch.
As though he felt her scrutiny, Case suddenly looked up at her window, pausing to grin and tip his hat in her direction. His movement drew the attention of the others working with him, and they all turned to see what he had spotted. Sammie stepped back, aware that she wasn’t presentable.
But oh, that smile…
Retrieving her lingerie from the bathroom, Sammie fervently hoped that the deep flounce around the neckline of the white blouse would serve to hide the vivid color of her bra. Going without went against every tenet with which she’d been raised, but her lingerie choices were even more limited than her wardrobe.
Just one more problem that couldn’t be held at bay indefinitely.
As she neared the kitchen, she heard Linnie Mae humming. Once again, nostalgic memories suffused her. Her grandmother had hummed as she worked in the kitchen.
“Good morning, young lady.” Linnie Mae was as cheerful today as yesterday. Looking Sammie over, she smiled. “They’re lovely on you.”
Sammie had the urge to apologize again for wearing her daughter’s clothes. “Good morning, Linnie Mae. I’m sorry I slept all the way through.”
“Oh, child, don’t worry one little bit. You were all tuckered out. I’m glad you got some rest, but I’m sorry you missed supper. How about some coffee and a good breakfast? I’ve got biscuits and gravy I can warm up, and it won’t take me two shakes to cook you some eggs and bacon.”
“Coffee is plenty—and maybe one of those gorgeous biscuits, if you don’t mind.” She’d never seen any so fluffy.
“But, honey, you didn’t have any supper.”
She really was starving. “I’m not going to ask you to cook for me.”
“It won’t take two shakes. Here’s a biscuit to tide you over, and coffee’s over there.”
“Is Case all right this morning?”
“That boy was ready to drop in his tracks last night. He should have taken a nap like you, but instead, he went out to help Wiley and the boys ready the stock for auction. I know he misses this place when he’s on the road, even if he won’t admit it. He always jumps right back in as soon as he returns, no matter how tired he might be.” She looked toward the back door. “They’re fixing to leave, if you’d like to say good morning.”
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do?”
“Not right now. Go ahead—they’re out back.”
Sammie put her biscuit on a napkin and carried it out to the back porch along with her coffee. She stood in the shade, leaning against a post, and broke off a bite of biscuit.
Oh, my… Pure heaven. She made short work of the rest of it.
She sipped coffee, strong and good if lacking the chicory she was accustomed to, and watched the activity with interest. She’d never seen cattle worked before, though she was familiar with horses, having learned to ride when she was younger.
She left her coffee on the railing, and walked out in the yard, slipping out of the gate but standing well away from the action. The last of the cattle were being loaded. Case turned to take his horse back to the stable, and saw her standing there. He dismounted and walked his horse behind him, moving toward her with only a slight limp.
As he neared, her breath caught, her pulse raced.
He was larger than life, yet very…real.
So very, very…male.
Case had awakened early out of habit, surprised by a sense of optimism.
The red lingerie he’d had to remove from the shower rod had nothing to do with it.
And now there she stood, looking for all the world like a picture he’d never realized he’d carried around in his heart. Home at the end of a long day, your woman waiting to welcome you.
She made him all but stop dead in his t
racks. Yesterday’s short skirt had shown off one fine pair of legs, and her blouse had hidden little of her lush figure.
But this outfit, soft and sweet and old-fashioned, made her seem to belong here. No longer the city girl, the princess, now she looked a part of the land, the soft dark waves of her hair framing her face and flowing over her shoulders. The long skirt swayed gracefully with the movement of her hips as she walked.
And aren’t you all flowery and sentimental?
“Good morning.” He moved closer, stopping with bare inches between them, the toes of his boots planted on either side of her slender feet.
“Good morning.” A smile curved her lips.
Caught up in the moment, Case tipped his hat back and bent to her, lured by the lush lips, savoring his memories of their taste.
“Whoo-ee, Case, so that’s what’s kept that shit-eatin’ grin on your face all morning!”
Case didn’t turn around. “Ralph, don’t you have something productive to do, or am I gonna have to come over there and kick your scrawny ass?”
“Aww, no call to get all huffy. I was just kiddin’.”
Wiley intervened. “Come on, kid, we’ve got to hit the road. You coming, Case? Good morning, Sammie.” He tipped his hat.
Sammie smiled.
God, she was beautiful.
Case disregarded good sense and closed in on her to grab what started as a quick, friendly kiss. But when his mouth touched her soft, full lips, he knew in an instant that quick was not what he wanted. He placed one hand on her waist to bring her closer.
A little gasp. The faint press of her curves.
No, quick was definitely not going to do it. He wanted more…a lot more.
Shaken by how much he wanted it, he let her go.
“I wish you didn’t have to go, Case.” Her wistful tone warmed him.
“Me, too.”
They lingered until Wiley started up the truck and revved the engine.
She stepped back. “Have a good time.”
He hesitated. “You’ll be okay?”
She smiled. “I’ll be fine. Thank you for letting me be here.”
They both sobered, knowing this was only temporary. Remembering that danger waited for her.
He tipped his hat to her. “I’ll see you later.”
“I’ll count on it,” she said in that dark chocolate voice.
Walk away. Now.
He did.
Barely.
She was still watching as they drove out of sight.
Sammie stood motionless until they left, then she turned to go inside, missing him already while knowing she shouldn’t.
But he’d been there for her as no one else had since this nightmare began. Still, she shouldn’t be counting on anyone. Her uncle’s misdeeds weren’t Case’s problem. The little she knew about his situation told her that he had enough to juggle.
She had to figure this out herself. She pasted on a bright smile before she entered the kitchen and rinsed out her empty cup. “May I be of help, Linnie Mae?”
“Why don’t you just rest today? Here you go.” She gestured toward a chair and set down a full plate.
Sammie’s appetite had waned. “I’m not used to idleness. I’d prefer to be useful, if you’ll let me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. You go ahead and eat now.” She hesitated. “If there’s someone you need to call, you go right ahead and use the phone. Even if you have a cellphone, coverage is pretty awful out here.”
Sammie swallowed and kept her eyes on the plate. “I’ll try my family later. They’re not early risers.”
She felt Linnie Mae’s piercing gaze. She didn’t like lying, but the warnings she’d received were clear. These people were solid and honest and kind, though. They deserved better than her lies. So did Case.
At last Linnie Mae turned back to the sink. “We’re happy to have you here with us. I haven’t had a woman around to visit with in some time.”
Sammie forced herself to eat while listening to the older woman move around the kitchen.
“Sammie, I have to go to town this afternoon. Would you like to join me and pick up a few things to tide you over?”
Oh, dear. She couldn’t let them spend money on her, but how on earth was she to come up with some when she didn’t dare access her own funds? She only had what was in her purse, and it might have to last a long time. She couldn’t imagine how she could earn the money for the things she needed out on a ranch in the middle of Texas. “Linnie Mae, I would but…”
“If it’s the money you’re thinking about, don’t worry. Case gave me some cash and asked me to take you.”
Sammie stifled a groan. “I don’t want to take Case’s money. I’ll figure something out—please, just bear with me. I’m not used to having anyone take care of me anymore. I like handling my own affairs.”
“Well, so do we all, hon, but sometimes we don’t have any control over that. Case wouldn’t offer it if he didn’t mean it. Heaven knows he’s got plenty of other uses for it.” Turning back to her work, she muttered in a low tone.
All Sammie caught was took off with all his money. “What did you say—”
Just then David’s wail sounded from outside. Wiping her hands on her apron, Linnie Mae rushed to the back door. After a moment’s observation, she shook her head and smiled ruefully, returning to the counter.
The sound of the children’s feet pounding on the porch, the slam of the gate, and their excited voices chattering and giggling made Sammie smile, too.
Raising two energetic grandchildren at her age must be hard, yet Linnie Mae was unflappable. An amazing woman, so capable and independent, yet Sammie had seen how deep the affection ran between her and Wiley. She couldn’t have been more different from Sammie’s mother, scared to say boo to her father. The atmosphere in which Sammie had been raised was so stilted and formal, so exacting. These people were warm and real. Sammie had sworn long ago she’d never be like her mother, a shadow at best, if a beautiful, elegant one.
Given the volume of the chatter outside, Sammie suddenly wondered how Linnie Mae had kept her from hearing the children last night and this morning. “I’m sorry you had to keep the children so quiet for me, Linnie Mae.”
Linnie Mae looked confused, then smiled. “With those two, quiet is a relative term.”
“But I never heard a peep from them. Is their room far away from the one I had?”
“About a quarter of a mile.”
“A quarter of a mile?” she echoed.
“This is Case’s house, Sammie. Ours is down the road.”
She felt suddenly breathless. “Who else lives here?”
“No one.”
“No one…you mean, Case and I… Ralph doesn’t live here either?” Though that would be worse. Wouldn’t it?
“Ralph lives in the hands’ quarters next to the barn.”
“But you…the meals…”
“This was the house Case grew up in. Oh, he wanted us to move into it before he came back, and then when the little ones came to us, he offered again, but Wiley and I have lived in our place for a long time. It’s a bit crowded with the children, but it’s home.” She gave Sammie a sympathetic smile. “I can see how it would confuse you, but this was always where we fed everyone, back when Case’s mother was alive and there were more hands. That’s why the kitchen’s so large.”
Sammie mentally counted the rooms upstairs. Only one had been the bathroom. Almost afraid to ask, she ventured, “Is the master bedroom downstairs?” Visions of red lingerie on the shower rod flashed in her head.
“Oh, no, hon. That’s the master bedroom you’re in. Case still sleeps in his old room right across the hall from you. He refused to take over the master.” She turned back to her work. “Case and his father didn’t get along too well.”
“He did tell me he left home at sixteen.” Hesitating to pry but drawn to understand him, Sammie pressed on. “He said his father hated him, but surely…”
Sorrow cro
ssed the older woman’s face. “Jack Marshall was a difficult man. He was the black sheep of his family and had nothing to do with them after some big to-do when he was a teenager.” She looked out the window then, as if another scene played in her mind. “He was never a happy man, I don’t believe—certainly not during the time we knew him. Case’s mother was about the only happiness he ever knew and the closest he came to settling down, but he was always restless, and after she passed when Case was just a boy…” She shook her head. “He buried his wife and abandoned his son, and that’s the sad truth of it. He turned right back to drinking and gambling the way he had before he met her, and heaven only knows what he was doing when he was tomcatting around.”
Her tone went bitter. “Even when he’d come back here, he never had a kind word for his boy. Knocked him around, too, I think, but Case would never say. As Case got older and bigger, he’d defend himself and had the size to do it. Black Jack sure didn’t cotton to that. He didn’t like not being king of the roost. Terrible way to treat his only son.”
Her mouth pursed, then she continued. “One day Jack just went crazy on Case over something minor, and Case wouldn’t back down. I swear one of them would have wound up dead if Wiley hadn’t stepped into the middle of it—and he got a split lip for his efforts. Case was so appalled he left right then—” Her voice hitched. “And he never came back. If we hadn’t wanted to watch over Case’s legacy for him, we’d have packed up and left, too. Never thought much of Jack Marshall. Case was a fine boy and grew into a fine man. Jack should have taken care of that boy, not run him off.”
She sighed. “Jack would never talk about it, but he had to know Case disappearing was his fault, and he seemed to lose interest in the ranch after that. After he died, this place was teetering on the brink of disaster. Not much of a heritage for Case.”
The Marshalls Boxed Set (Texas Heroes: The Marshalls Books 1-3) Page 56