A Ranching Man

by Linda Turner

  Angel had known that the studio had too much invested in her to let anything happen to her on the set, but she hadn’t expected the suits to go to such extremes to keep her safe. Photo IDing everyone from the lowest caterer’s helper to the producer himself was a huge undertaking that had to be costing the studio a small fortune.

  “You don’t have to wait in line like the rest of the cast,” William informed her. “Mr. Sutton said it was too dangerous. So we’ll just cut to the front and get you all taken care of, then I’m escorting you to your trailer. Taylor, my replacement, is already waiting there for you and will keep you safe until I come back for you when filming shuts down at five this afternoon.”

  Angel would have preferred to wait her turn like the rest of the cast, but William had his orders and he was diligent about carrying them out. Quickly and competently, he hustled her to the front of the line. There was some grumbling and hostile glares, but for the most part, people were un derstanding, and within minutes, she and William both had their new IDs and were allowed on the set.

  “There, that wasn’t so bad,” he said with a grin as they headed for her trailer. “Once I get you settled, I’ll stop by the caterer’s truck and get you some coffee and doughnuts and bring them back to you. How do you take your coffee?”

  “With cream and sugar,” she said as her trailer came into sight then. As promised, her guard for the day was already there and waiting for her. “But you don’t have to make a special trip. I can get it later—”

  That was as far as she got. Garrett, whose trailer was next to hers, intercepted her path then, smoothly cutting her off. His handsome face twisted with dislike, he glowered at her like a spoiled little boy. “You’re some piece of work, you know that? This entire set gets shut down for most of the day because of you, and you’re not the least bit concerned. And why should you be? You’re Angel Wiley, superstar.”

  Embarrassed and all too aware of the interested eyes they were drawing, Angel cringed. “Garrett, please don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what?” he threw back at her. “Tell you what I think of you and your little power plays, Miss High-and-Mighty? Why the hell shouldn’t I? Because that’s all they are—little power plays you concoct to hog the limelight. Poor Angel, she’s got a stalker,” he mimicked sarcastically. “Yeah, right. Tell another one. Couldn’t you come up with something more original than that to get noticed?”

  Raging at her, he blasted her with one jealous accusation after another, but Angel didn’t say a word to defend herself. What was the point? She couldn’t control what he thought of her and wouldn’t even try.

  “You’ve had your say,” she said when he finally ran out of steam and just glared at her with hate-filled eyes. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I was on my way to my trailer. I’m sure you’ll understand why I have no desire to continue this conversation.”

  As regal as a queen, she swept around him and continued on toward her trailer with William at her side. He hadn’t said a single word during the exchange, but she’d been aware of his presence as he’d stood at full alert beside her. If Garrett had made a move toward her, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would have intervened in a heartbeat.

  “I’m sorry you had to overhear that,” she said quietly. “Mr. Elliot can be quite a jackass at times.”

  He snorted. “Jackass doesn’t begin to describe the jerk, but I’m not as nice as you. He’s really got it in for you. What’d you do, tell him to take a hike when he asked you out?”

  “Something like that,” she chuckled. “Obviously, getting turned down was a new experience for him. He’s never forgiven me.”

  Her trailer was fifty feet away, her guard dutifully watching everyone who walked by. “You don’t have to walk me the rest of the way,” she said with a smile and nodded toward the younger man patiently waiting for her. “That’s Taylor, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I’ve got orders to walk you all the way. Mr. Douglas said to make sure I didn’t take any chances with your safety.”

  Taylor, however, started toward them and was halfway across the clearing that separated them when, without warning, the motor home that served as Angel’s dressing room suddenly exploded. Jagged pieces of metal went flying, while fire shot into the sky with a loud roar, rocking the very ground itself.

  It all happened so fast, Taylor never knew what hit him. The force of the blast slammed into him from behind, throwing him up against another trailer a hundred feet away. Shouting a warning, William stepped in front of Angel to protect her from the flying debris, but they both seemed to be moving in slow motion. Suddenly, a piece of the motor home’s roof plummeted from the sky, aiming right for them. Horrified, Angel screamed and tried to shove William out of the way. He was too big, however, and they’d just run out of time. A split second later, the metal slammed into both of them, knocking them to the ground.

  Pain exploded in Angel’s head as William groaned and went still beside her. She tried to call out for help, but she couldn’t manage so much as a whimper. Blackness descended on her like a dark cloud, weighing her down, dragging her under a wave of hurt. Without a sound, she gave herself up to it.

  “Angel!”

  From thirty feet away, Garrett watched in horror as Angel and her driver lay unmoving on the ground underneath a burning piece of metal that had to weigh twenty pounds. He didn’t consider himself a heroic man—in the face of danger, it was every man for himself—but his feet moved with a will of their own and he stumbled toward Angel. Suddenly, he was running, his heart in his throat and his handsome face white with fear. “No!”

  The metal singed his hands, but he never noticed as he grabbed it and threw it aside while more debris rained down from the sky. Angel’s driver moaned, but she never moved. Pale as a ghost, the back of her head matted with blood, she lay flat on her stomach and didn’t even appear to be breathing. And all Garrett could think of was how, not five minutes ago, he’d mocked her about her stalker.

  “Dear God, dear God, dear God,” he mumbled, praying for the first time in his adult life. “Let her be okay.”

  He didn’t know a thing about first aid or CPR, and when he carefully turned her over, his hands were visibly shak ing. Behind him, he heard shouts and people running, but he couldn’t take his eyes from Angel’s bruised, colorless face. “Help!” he cried, feeling for the pulse in her neck and panicking when he couldn’t find it. “Dammit, I need some help over here!”

  The words were hardly out of his mouth when there were people there to help. “It’s okay, Garrett,” somebody said behind him. “Janey McBride is here. She’s a nurse. She’ll take care of Angel until the ambulance gets here. You can let her go.”

  “I think she’s dead,” he said half to himself, still feeling for a pulse. “It’s my fault. I should have been able to do something for her. But I didn’t know how.”

  The woman who dropped down to her knees across from him had the kindest voice he’d ever heard in his life. “You did just fine,” she said quietly. “She’s not dead. See—here’s her pulse.” And taking his hand, she pressed his fingers to the correct spot on Angel’s neck so he could feel the steady, reassuring beat of her heart.

  Relief washed over him, and when he looked up at Janey McBride, he could have hugged her. She wasn’t a woman who stood out in a crowd—if the truth were told, she was almost plain. Dressed in a stark white nurse’s uniform, she wore only a minimum of makeup and had her dark brown hair scraped back in a schoolmarmish bun that wasn’t the least bit attractive. But at that moment, he thought she was the prettiest woman he’d ever seen in his life.

  “Thank you,” he said huskily. “We haven’t always been the best of friends, but I don’t want anything to happen to her.”

  “She’s going to be fine,” she assured him. “Let me take care of her and the others, then I’ll take a look at your hands. You look like you’ve got a couple of nasty burns there.”

  Surprised, he barely spared a glance at h
is hands. “Others? Who else was hurt besides Angel and her driver?”

  Standing behind Janey, watching her every move as she quickly and efficiently worked over Angel, Charles Sutton, the director, said grimly. “At least fifteen people were hit by shattered glass and flying debris. Taylor, however, Angel’s guard today, took most of the brunt of the explosion. He’s in pretty bad shape.”

  Sirens screamed in the distance, and within minutes, the sheriff arrived with Liberty Hill’s only fire truck and ambulance right behind him. Almost immediately, paramedics and firemen were spilling from their vehicles to take charge of the disaster. Hoses were run from the fire truck to put out the still blazing trailer, while the medical personnel set up a quick triage to take care of the injured before rushing them to the hospital.

  And in the chaos, no one noticed the short, slender man who moved through the crowd like he had every right to be there. He wore no ID, but less than half the cast and crew had procured IDs when the explosion ripped through the set, so security didn’t spare him a glance. And he wasn’t stupid enough to draw attention to himself by acting guilty. An unobtrusive man, he knew how to hide in plain sight.

  The sheriff had everyone move back from the sight of the now extinguished fire, and without a word, the man joined the cast and crew as they silently watched the fire marshall examine the burned-out motor home for signs of arson. The valve that controlled the recreational vehicle’s propane tank had been sabotaged, but the marshall would never find the damage. He’d made sure of it, the watcher in the crowd thought with a smug smile. Early that morning, while two security guards patrolled the huge set, he’d slipped in and out of the set and engineered a little surprise for the star of the movie. And no one had suspected a thing until Angel’s trailer literally blew up in her face.

  Damn, he was good! The only thing that would have made it better was if Angel had been in the motor home when it blew. The two-timing bitch deserved nothing less. Oh, well. Better luck next time.

  And there would be a next time, he promised himself confidently. He could all but guarantee it. It was just a matter of setting the wheels in motion.

  It was one of those mornings when the wind was out of the southwest and the temperature was already well into the mid eighties before ten o’clock. By noon, it’d be hotter than hell.

  Already sweating like a pig, Joe pulled off his damp shirt and hung it on the tailgate of his pickup, then grabbed the thermos of ice water he’d brought with him. Tempted to douse his head, he took a long swig, while overhead, the sun glared down at him, baking his bronzed skin even darker.

  And he loved it. The heat of summer, the icy cold of winter, working in the elements, all alone in the field with nothing but the cattle and the whisper of the wind for company. As a boy, he’d grown up helping his father run the place, and it was at times like this, when he was doing everyday normal chores like repairing a downed cross fence, that he felt closest to him.

  Remembering the last time they’d worked on a fence together and his father cursed the amorous bull that had knocked it down in order to get to a pasture full of heifers, Joe grinned and tugged his work gloves back on. He’d never seen the old man so mad.

  He was still chuckling over the inventive way his father had cursed that damn bull when what sounded like an explosion far off to the south rocked the silence of the morning. Surprised, he pulled off his cowboy hat and wiped his brow, his narrowed eyes sharpening on the thick forest of trees on the southern horizon. Five miles past the trees, the studio had set up its newest set, and it was from there that it sounded like the explosion had come.

  Frowning, he reminded himself that there were several scenes in the movie that required special effects. He didn’t have a problem with that. But the contract he had with the studio required the director to give him two days’ notice of any activity that might spook the cattle so that he would have time to move them. And Sutton hadn’t notified him of anything.

  So it was just an oversight, he decided. Sutton had a lot on his plate right now. From what Joe had heard, filming was behind schedule. And then there was the worry and logistics of keeping the studio’s number one star safe from an unpredictable headcase. With so much responsibility on his shoulders, it was a wonder the man had any time to sleep. He’d probably ordered some underling to pass on the message that dynamite or some other type of explosive was going to be used on the set today, and somehow it had never reached him.

  But when Joe picked up the wire puller to go back to work, something clawed at his gut, something that sank its claws deep and wouldn’t let go. He tried to tell himself he was overreacting, but that sixth sense that had never let him down in the past wasn’t buying it. If he was going to get any work done today, he was going to have to make a run over to the set first and check out what was going on.

  It would only take a few minutes, he reasoned as he drew on his shirt, then tossed his tools in the back of his pickup and climbed into the cab. He needed to meet with Sutton anyway and remind him of the terms of their contract. He’d let it slide this time, but from now on, he damn well wanted to be notified before explosives were used.

  Heading south on the ranch road that led to the set, he kept his foot steady on the accelerator, the speed hovering around thirty. Still, the gravel road was pitted from the rough winter and he found himself bouncing along and fighting the wheel just to stay on the road. Then he saw the black column of smoke rising silently into the clear morning sky like a crooked finger of doom.

  He heard the sirens almost immediately, a long, low wail in the distance that seemed to go on and on like a never-ending scream. His blood turned cold just at the sound of it. Muttering a curse, he pressed the gas pedal to the floor and raced toward the trees on the horizon at a speed that would have horrified his mother.

  He never remembered the rest of the drive to the set. The countryside whizzed by in a blur. All he saw was that dark column of smoke rising into the sky. And he knew. He couldn’t explain how or why, but just that easily, he knew Angel was in trouble.

  The set looked like a war zone when Joe finally reached it. Jagged, smoldering pieces of metal lay everywhere, along with the injured. If Joe hadn’t known better, he would have sworn the place had been hit by a bomb. Then he saw the motor home that had once been Angel’s dressing room. It was now nothing but a charred, still-smoking shell.

  Stunned, his heart stopped dead in his chest. All around him, chaos reigned. Firemen from the volunteer fire department rushed to put out hotspots while paramedics from Liberty Hill and two neighboring counties hurried to answer the painful calls of the wounded. It seemed like the entire cast and crew was standing about, but he didn’t see Angel anywhere.

  Panic tearing at him, he fought his way through the crowd, ready to rip somebody apart if he didn’t find her soon. Then he saw his sister. “Janey! What are you doing here?”

  Her nurse’s uniform smudged with dirt and blood, and her hair slipping free of its confining bun, Janey turned from the man whose shoulder she’d just bandaged. “Joe, thank God you’re here! I was on my way to work when I heard the sirens. Angel—”

  “Where is she? Is she okay? What the hell happened here?”

  “Her motor home blew up, but she wasn’t in it,” she assured him quickly. “She was lucky. She got hit by some flying debris and was knocked out for a while—”

  “Knocked out! Dammit, Janey—”

  “But she’s going to be fine,” she continued firmly. “Her injuries don’t appear to be serious, but she took a pretty good blow to the head. She really should go to the hospital for a CAT scan just to be sure everything’s okay.”

  “Fine. Then what’s the problem? Are the ambulances already full? I can take her. Where is she?”

  “It isn’t that easy,” she said dryly, a smile curling her mouth as she nodded to the line of stretchers awaiting transport to the hospital. “See for yourself.”

  Following Janey’s gaze, he immediately found Angel sitting on a
stretcher at the front of the line. Less than two hours ago, she’d left for work looking cool and feminine in a pink gauzy sheath dress and strappy sandals designed to make a man’s mouth go dry. She still wore the dress and one of the sandals, but the woman on the stretcher was a far cry from the Angel Wiley he knew. The back of her head was bandaged and her right cheek bruised. Dirt and soot soiled her skin and clothes, and the only color in her face was the blue of her eyes. She looked so fragile that a good stiff wind would have blown her away.

  But she still had her fighting spirit, he noted with relief. Even as he watched, she jutted her chin out when a paramedic leaned down to talk to her and stubbornly shook her head. “I don’t need to go to the hospital,” she said firmly. “Take someone who’s really hurt.”

  Struggling to hold on to his patience, the paramedic smiled thinly. “We don’t know that you’re not hurt, Ms. Wiley. That’s why we want to take you to the hospital. You were knocked cold for quite a while. In all likelihood, you’ve got a concussion. You need to have a doctor take a look at you—”

  “Take William instead. He was out longer than I was. And the wardrobe girl—Shirley. She lost a lot of blood from that gash on her arm. There could be muscle damage.”

  “But you have a head injury!”

  “So I’ll take some aspirin and take it easy for the rest of the afternoon,” she said obstinately. “I’ll be fine.”

  To his credit, the paramedic hung on to his temper in spite of the fact that he wanted to throw something. Sympathizing with him, Janey couldn’t help but smile. “See what I mean,” she told Joe. “If she doesn’t want medical treatment, we can’t force it on her, but she’s in no shape to make this kind of decision, Joe. She needs to see a doctor.”