by Toni Leland
His long-time girlfriend owned an elegant home in a select part of Edmond. The porch lights came on as he pulled into the driveway and activated the garage door remote. The Hummer eased to a stop beside a shiny red Mercedes convertible.
Celeste Harding appeared at the door before he'd even climbed out of his vehicle.
“Hey Baby, you're early.”
The luscious blonde's smile sent a thump through his pulse and lust into his loins.
He gathered her perfect body into his arms and nuzzled her ear. “The early bird gets the nookie.”
She pulled him into the kitchen and pressed close, kissing him and making little whimpering noises that tickled his lips. All his disappointment and worries vanished as Celeste's tongue explored the contour of his ear.
Her husky voice hummed with invitation. “What time do we have to be at the club?”
He slipped the silk robe off her shoulders and gazed at her beautiful naked body. “Later. Much later.”
Sprawled in the jumble of satin sheets, Frank stared at the ceiling and listened to Celeste humming in the shower. His thoughts wandered far from the cozy bedroom. An intentional attack on Dancer and Boots was a far-fetched possibility, and for what purpose? Who would be a reasonable suspect? Someone with an axe to grind. He clenched his jaw. That damned lazy stall cleaner was just the kind of lowlife loser to pull a stunt like this.
The bed jiggled as Celeste slithered her naked body across the sheets. She touched his face, her violet blue eyes dark with concern. “What's the matter, honey?”
He ran his fingers over her full breast. “Nothing. Just all the bullshit with the horses.”
“I saw the newspaper. How's Kellie taking it?”
He sat up and shook his head. “I dunno. We aren't even on the same playing field anymore.”
She moved closer and slipped her arms around him. “I'd never let you be so miserable.”
He savored her embrace for a moment, wondering if she'd stick with him if she knew the truth.
“Frankie, I have more money than even Kellie-we could go somewhere, do anything you want.”
He didn't trust himself to respond. From one “kept man” situation to another-would her love make a difference?
~ ~
Kellie leaned on the porch rail and stared at nothing, willing her weary brain to take a break. To the west, a smooth band of black clouds hovered just above the sinking dark orange sun, a storm bank that would bring either rain or destruction. She closed her eyes. Mother Nature's wrath couldn't come close to what was happening at Rocking S.
The background sounds of a television show drifted from an open window, punctuated by Sara's giggles. A pair of mockingbirds barked and meowed from a branch in the massive pecan tree shading the house. Kellie exhaled long and slow, abandoning her attempts to stop thinking about the conversation with Ed. Through the years, he'd remained in her heart, secure and familiar, loving and vulnerable. The man who'd sat in her office today seemed a stranger. Why had she expected an older version of the softhearted teen who'd vowed to do anything she ever wanted? Had the willingness to compromise always been only his? Recognition of her blunder was a dagger through the heart. She straightened up and crossed her arms, pushing away the pointless self-recriminations. She'd think about it later.
Mentally, she cross-examined each possible suspect to see if anything new occurred to her. Someone close, someone with access and familiarity. Roy was the only employee who still lived at the ranch, but the old man would lay down his life for the horses-not maim them. Frank came and went as he pleased, but she still couldn't seriously consider him as the culprit. What would he gain? Nothing. In fact, he had almost as much to lose as she did. His financial investment in the business had been pivotal in their success, he leased Sutton land for his cattle, and he drew a good salary as ranch manager. Would he do something like this simply to hurt her? Doubtful-Frank had never loved her, and he worried only about himself and what would be in his best interests. Yet his seeming lack of concern about the injured horses was a strange reaction, considering the seriousness of the attacks. She couldn't rule him out completely.
She straightened up and stretched the tension from her shoulders. Ed was right-the developers might want the land, but not enough to face criminal charges. She frowned. Would the attacks even be considered criminal acts? What category would cover vandalizing farm stock? Property damage? Trespassing? She shook her head sadly. Whatever the proper term, it was enough to destroy everything she'd worked for.
She glanced at her watch, then stepped over to the screen door. “Sara...bedtime.”
A whiney “Aw Mom” drifted back. She grinned, then returned to the process of elimination. Grudgingly, she acknowledged that the suspended exhibitor would no more retaliate like this than sprout wings and fly. A big legal hassle would be no trade-off for three months out of the show circuit, no matter how prestigious the trophy she'd been chasing.
A light breeze wafted around the corner of the house and Kellie looked again toward the fading sunset. The clouds were breaking up, moving in different directions, leaving only a dark azure sky with a soft pink stripe above the horizon. Soon the land would plunge into a darkness that only a rancher knew-starry skies unspoiled by man-made lights. With that image came the unsettling certainty that whoever was stalking her not only felt safe in the cover of those black skies, but also was comfortable and confident in the open and wild land.
The unthinkable suspicion she'd been avoiding surged into her conscious thoughts. Her brothers had spent their young lives in this environment, had done their share of ranch chores, and would certainly know every inch of the property. She closed her eyes tightly. What needs could they possibly have that would warrant destroying her livelihood to get their money out of the land?
Sara came out on the porch and wrapped her arms around Kellie's waist, pressing her pajama-clad body close. “'Night, Mama.”
Kellie kissed the top of her head and stroked her shoulder, gazing through the dusk. “See you in the morning, hon.”
~ ~
Slipping through the partially open barn door half an hour later, Kellie took care not to make any noise. The aroma of warm bodies and alfalfa drifted on the still air, and she stopped to listen. Only the occasional sigh or snuffle broke the silence. Walking softly, she moved down the aisle toward Dancer's stall, acutely aware that none of the horses paid any attention-her confident familiar presence gave them no cause for alarm. Hyde's words reverberated in her head. She'd just proven him right. At the stallion's stall door, her throat constricted at the sight of the once vibrant stud, now only a shadow of his former self. Whoever did this would pay dearly-she'd see to that.
She moved on to the office and her attention immediately focused on the surveillance monitor and its steady parade of gray images from each of the barns. What good would it do to have the culprit on tape if another horse suffered? For no distinct reason, she had a feeling the intruder would return. If nothing else, she wanted to feel as though she was doing something constructive toward catching this person. She strode back into the barn aisle and out the rear door, a surge of adrenaline prickling her skin. The rush felt good as she hurried across the grass toward the mare barn.
She stopped to peek at the palomino filly, then continued on to the foal-watch room at the end of the barn. The bunk had been stripped, the bedding washed, folded, and stacked on the chair, ready for the next round of deliveries. She grabbed a blanket from the cupboard and headed back to the main barn. After putting together a makeshift bed on the couch in the tack room, she wandered restlessly about, her senses on full alert, her thoughts racing. The soft aroma of leather polish cooled her agitation and she focused on the array of fine saddlery, gleaming in the soft light. Dancer's show halter hung next to an ornately tooled saddle with sterling fittings. Her heart almost shattered at the memories.
She turned away and her gaze stopped on a small chest of drawers in the corner. She hesitated, then kneeled to op
en the bottom drawer. Her pulse thumped and she took a deep breath, then set aside a small worn saddle blanket to gaze at a scrapbook in the bottom of the drawer. How long had it been since she'd looked through that record of joy and sorrow? Indecision crowded her thoughts, but the desire to revisit the past was stronger, and she lifted the book from its hiding place.
Curled up on the couch with the blanket covering her legs, she leafed through the first few pages, smiling at the gangly red-haired girl on horseback, holding ribbons or trophies. Details in the yellowed newspaper clippings supported the photos and, on one frayed page, a blue ribbon had come unglued. She picked it up and squinted at the faded gold printing, then shook her head sadly. The ribbon was from the year she met Ed Campbell. How important it had been, that she would sequester this bit of fabric away from the trophy case. She leaned her head back and thought about the changes in her life after that year. Swallowing the hard lump rising in her throat, she leafed through the next ten pages until she came to one that had nothing to do with riding.
Private Edward Campbell gazed back at her from the official Army photograph. His expression was properly solemn, but even now, Kellie could see the message to her in his eyes. In the lower corner, his bold scrawl proclaimed his love. “To my darling Kellie.” She turned the page and scanned the various snapshots of Eddie and his class of recruits doing all the corny things young men do for the camera. As she turned the pages, she saw for the first time the change in Eddie's physique, as he ground through boot camp and muscled up. The journey through the scrapbook began to take its toll, and her eyes burned.
She turned a page and was transported from photos of a happy-go-lucky young man to newspaper clippings of a sober faced hometown hero. A tear rolled down her cheek and splashed on the page. She closed the scrapbook and set it aside.
~ ~
Barking echoed through the dream and Kellie bolted upright, confusion slashing through her thoughts as she struggled to untangle the blanket from her legs. Outside, Buck's deep bark had a warning edge to it, then Pal's voice joined in. Kellie raced toward the barn doors. God, what time is it? She dashed into the night and stopped abruptly, stunned by the brilliant white wash of moonlight that painted everything with eerie shadows. The dogs were running along the pasture fence, and she ran toward them, squinting into the moonscape field to see what had upset them. She called out, commanding them to stay. If a cougar was prowling through the pasture, she didn't want the dogs to tangle with it.
They stopped running, but continued to bark, looking back at her expectantly. Her eyes adjusted to the strange light, and she saw a shadow moving along the fence on the east side of the pasture. A human shadow. She started forward, then stopped. What could she do? She'd never catch him. She reached for her cell phone, then swore. She'd left it on the floor beside the couch. She darted forward, racing along the fence line, keeping her eyes on the shadowy form, trying to see where it headed. Barking like mad, the dogs ranged far ahead of her and ducked under the fence. The running shadow merged with the dark trees along the section road, and Kellie stopped, gasping for breath. An engine roared to life and gravel ricocheted against metal. She ran forward again, straining to see through the trees. Taillights careened down the section road before disappearing around a corner. Tires squealed, the sound echoing through the night air, a hollow background to her thundering heartbeat.
Chapter 5
The deep ache of a sleepless night complained through Kellie's shoulders as she eased into the desk chair and reached for the phone. Ed picked up on the first ring, and she glanced at her watch, surprised he would be in the office so early. His voice calmed her fractured thoughts.
“Logan County Sheriff Department, Ed Campbell speaking.”
She smiled at the familiar cadence of each syllable.
“It's me, Kellie. Someone came on my property last night.”
“I'll send someone right out to pick up the surveillance tapes.”
“Whoever it was didn't get that far-I only saw a shadow out in the pasture.”
“At what time?”
She frowned. “I'm not sure-after midnight, I think.”
His tone hardened. “What were you doing out there in the middle of the night?”
“I slept in the barn last night, just in case.”
“Kellie...never mind. I'll be out shortly.”
She listened to the dial tone for a moment, then hung up. The conversation hadn't gone the way she'd expected. Why did he sound so annoyed? She hadn't done anything wrong, yet his tone made her feel as though she had. If she could just put this whole mess on hold and talk to him, maybe they could close the yawning gap between them. Her shoulders sagged and, with a resigned sigh, she picked up the schedule of activities for the 89er weekend. The opening ceremonies, her heritage speech, a chuck wagon dinner...and the parade. Stinging tears burned her eyes. She and Dancer had been part of the Grand Parade for the past eight years. She pushed back from the desk. I will not let this cripple me.
Before pointing a finger at Frank, she needed to locate Tina. She was exactly the type who'd seek revenge for being fired. Kellie dug through a drawer and found the girl's work file. She reached for the phone, and it jangled beneath her fingers.
“Rocking S Ranch.”
A heavy voice rumbled through the receiver. “Kellie? What the hell's going on up there?”
Oh great. “Darrell, how are you?”
“I'll be better if you tell me my mare is okay. Your story is all over the news down here.”
She kept her anxiety from coloring her reply. “She's just fine. In fact, Doctor Browning just confirmed that she's settled. Congratulations-you'll have a Dancer foal on the ground next spring.”
“I'll be up to collect her in the morning. Sorry I was so gruff...hope your horses will be okay.”
Kellie nodded and hung up as the gush of adrenaline subsided, leaving a wash of tremors in its wake. She opened Tina's folder, and picked up the phone again.
“Mrs. Brown, this is Kellie Sutton. May I speak to Tina?”
The woman's gravelly voice oozed contempt. “I seen in the paper you got yerself in a bind. Whadaya need her for?”
“I just want to ask her a question.”
The woman wheezed into a phlegm-choked coughing fit, and Kellie considered hanging up.
“She ain't here. Tina's got a real job now, working in Okee City. She's a vet'narian assistant-she don't need you no more.”
The line went dead and Kellie shook her head. How could Tina possibly be any help to a vet? She could barely get out of her own way.
The Oklahoma City yellow pages listed over a hundred and forty veterinarians, plus twelve display advertisements for clinics. Starting with the ads, Kellie made eight calls before she connected with the right one. She hung up before Tina came to the phone.
Skyline Equine Clinic. She printed the name and phone number on a scrap of paper and stuffed it into her back pocket. On her way out of the office, she stopped to examine the breeding roster posted on the wall. She still had eight outside mares in residence-five confirmed in foal and three awaiting a second cover. Worry rippled through her head. Dancer was in no shape to breed a mare-they'd have to use artificial insemination. Thank God we collected him over the winter. At least enough to last until he's recovered.
The phone rang and Kellie stopped to listen as the answering machine picked up. Her heart sank at the panic in another mare owner's message. Unable to deal with it right then, she headed down the aisle toward the barn door. She had to do something-anything-that would make this go away.
The rising sun bathed the dewy fields in glistening shades of pink and yellow, and the air was crisp and lightly scented with spring. Her mood lightened. Buck and Pal fell into step beside her.
“How are my fierce watchdogs this morning?”
Stumpy tails wiggled, and Buck stopped to stare expectantly toward the site of their nocturnal adventure. Three broodmares milled about a paddock where an employee was tossi
ng out flakes of hay. A shot of adrenaline jerked through Kellie's gut and she stopped in mid-stride.
One of the mares was limping.
~ ~
Ed closed the desk drawer with a snap. “Boy howdy, she hasn't changed one bit-still determined to do everything her way.”
He rocked back in the chair and scrubbed his hands over his face. After a long night on stakeout, he'd managed only three hours of sleep-an uneasy, frustrating night of mixed dreams peppered with gangs of drug dealers, the desert, and Kellie. An elixir of gut wrenching images. This job might kill him yet.
He opened the Sutton case report to review each of the possible suspects so far. He crossed the veterinarian and the horseshow exhibitor off the list. Tina Brown still seemed the most likely suspect, although after the scene in town yesterday, Frank's name had drifted nearer the top of the list. Ed sat back in his chair, pursing his lips. What possible motive could Kellie's ex-husband have for doing something like this? On the surface, they seemed to get along all right. Did some dark secret lurk beneath that benign facade? Time to do some digging.
As he headed down the hall, irritation crackled through his mind at the thought of Kellie playing detective in the middle of the night. At first consideration, the attacks on her horses seemed to be either a warning or an attempt to destroy her business, and he hadn't considered her personal safety. But now...
“Sheriff? What do you want me to do with this stuff?” A young deputy held out two plastic evidence bags. “We didn't find much.”
Ed took the bags and examined the contents. The first one held a soggy half-smoked cigarette. The label indicated it had been found by the manure pile. The second bag sent his instincts racing. A disposable syringe with a small drop of brown goop inside.
“Where did you find this?”
“One of the stalls in the big barn.”
“Which one?”
The man's face sagged with embarrassment. “I don't remember.”