“Enough of the social niceties, already,” Colt interrupted, jamming his hat back on his head. “Why were you hoofing it? Did you lose the thieves’ tracks, or what?”
“I was closing in on two men. The same ones who rode into my ranch as bold as brass and made off with my registered Belted Galloway bull. Just when I thought I might catch up, Starlight stepped in a prairie dog hole and threw a shoe. She wrenched a foreleg, I think. I knew I couldn’t continue the chase. I’d started home on foot when you two rode out of the night. I figured you were the bastards who stole Jim Dandy—that’s my bull. I thought you’d circled back….”
“Did you know them?” Colt grasped her wrist and began a slow trek up the steep draw. Their horses all stood at ease on the level ground above, like the well-trained cow ponies they were.
“It was too dark to see anything, really, when the noise awakened me. They were already herding Jim Dandy off my property when I turned on the barn’s floodlights. Throughout the chase, I was too far behind to ever make out more than the fact that there were two of them.”
“Any idea where someone might stash a hot bull until it’s safe to sell him on the black market?” Colt asked.
Summer absently rubbed her stomach. “They disappeared into open range. Five or more ranchers graze stock on this half section. Jim Dandy wears my brand, which isn’t an easy one to alter. If the plan is to hide him among range animals tonight and load him out tomorrow, the tracks will be easier to follow come daylight. Can one of you give me a lift home?”
“Sure. But if I forge on tonight, won’t the chance of recovering him at daybreak be greater than if we all head home and begin all over again?”
“I can’t go on.” Summer stroked Starlight’s neck. It was obvious that the mare avoided bearing weight on her right foreleg.
“Tracey’ll see you home. I’ll mosey on. Even if I run into your thieves, they won’t know me. I can’t imagine toughs like that would consider a lone drifter any real threat.”
“Aw, Coltrane,” Trace muttered. “Why do I have to turn back? You’re the one who drove round-trip to Boise. I slept the whole way here.”
Colt gripped his arm and hustled him aside, purposely lowering his voice. “I’m also the one with tracking experience, and the one trained to liberate hostages. You told me you’d built fences. Summer and Virgil shouldn’t replace that corral by themselves. And until we know what or who’s behind the bull’s disappearance, I’d rather the people on the Marsh ranch weren’t left alone.”
“Yeah, fine,” Trace muttered. “Uncle Marley said I’m supposed to do what you say. You take care, you hear, Coltrane? Hey, did you bring the cell phone so you can check in now and then?”
“It’s still in the pickup cab. First opportunity you have out of Summer’s hearing, phone Marc and order a cell phone for yourself. And don’t forget, this is a covert operation all the way, kid.”
“I know. And dammit, I’m not a kid. I came here to give a day’s work for a day’s pay. If you’ve got a problem with that, Coltrane, find yourself another wrangler.”
Colt slapped Trace’s broad shoulder. “Sorry, Trace. Go on back with Summer. Show me your stuff rebuilding that corral, and in my book you’ll stand alongside Marc, Mossberger and Gabe.”
“Deal!” The two men sealed their pact with a warm handshake.
Returning to where they’d left Summer, who was watching them through narrowed eyes, Colt swung blithely into his saddle. “We flipped a coin. Trace lost. He’ll help you reconstruct the corral. I’m going after Jim Dandy. It’s too bad you and Trace met under such unfortunate circumstances. He’s a good man, comes from a class A family. I’m happy he was available. You will be, too, Summer.”
“I am grateful,” she said quietly. “To you both. And I’m sorry I tried to break your jaw, Coltrane.” She gave a deep, shuddering sigh. “I can’t explain the run of bad luck the Forked Lightning’s had recently. The Callan name has always stood for something in the area. I don’t know what this part of the world is coming to that people would ride into my front yard and steal stock. But they did. Watch your back, okay? I’ll report this to the sheriff in Callanton as soon as Tracey and I get home.”
“My jaw will survive. I’m really sorry I hit you at all. You take it easy, all right?” Tipping the brim of his hat, Colt rode off, aimed in the direction where he’d last observed the rising dust.
Obviously Summer hadn’t yet connected Frank to the loss of her prize bull. Colt found himself inclined to believe that Virgil had probably deduced correctly in laying the blame at Frank’s door. Marsh struck Colt as the type to strong-arm a woman into doing his bidding. Proving it could be a different matter, though. Frank had staunch buddies who’d vouch for him without prodding. That was something Colt had noticed while he kept an ear to the ground in Callanton; in fact, both of the Marshes had their supporters. Since a jerk like Frank had managed to inspire such loyalty, Colt had figured there must be a fair bit of truth in his story. Which was why, at first, he’d tended to side with Frank.
Shoot—it was time to be honest. It was mostly because of his experience with Monica that Colt had, early on, wanted Summer Marsh to get her comeuppance.
Now he felt like a snake in the grass. Summer bore no resemblance to Monica at all. The least he owed her was to find that damned bull and bring him back.
For an hour or so after the sun rose, Colt found himself taking real pleasure in the landscape. An empty and seemingly endless prairie filled with wild grasses and low-growing shrubs stretched as far as the eye could see. It evoked a sense of freedom he hadn’t felt in years. But he forced himself to focus on his quest. This wasn’t the time for dreams or memories. Today, he just wanted to track down that bull and see him rightfully returned to Summer.
By and by, Colt ran across small clumps of grazing steers. He cursed having gone off without even binoculars. In the back of his pickup, he had a pair of military-issue night goggles. If he’d been thinking squarely, he might have remembered to bring them, which would’ve given him an advantage in following the thieves’ trail.
As it stood, his watch showed ten straight up when he glimpsed a larger dark blob in one of the draws. The most massive animal he’d ever seen. If the shadow didn’t turn out to be several steers standing close together, he’d probably stumbled on Jim Dandy.
Colt urged the gelding into a gallop. All the while, he scanned the area for signs of the men who’d spirited the bull away.
Nothing seemed to move on the horizon except an occasional swish of the beast’s tail, along with the tails of two range cows munching contentedly in the same vicinity. Heifers.
Luck, which had passed Colt by lately, now landed in his corner. The bull, a huge, evil-looking brute, did indeed wear the Forked Lightning brand on one matted hip.
He would’ve felt relieved—except that he had no idea how he was going to bring home fifteen hundred pounds of bull. Every time he approached, Jim Dandy raised his head and bellowed a clear and distinct warning to keep his distance.
Colt’s first attempt to herd the creature out of the draw met with abject failure. The gelding, a well-trained cutting horse, exhibited his finest tricks. Even he wasn’t keen on getting too close to the beast.
Half an hour slipped by before Colt hit upon a possible solution. He noticed that each time the stray heifers moved off to graze, the bull followed.
Only…they weren’t strays, Colt realized on riding closer to the pair. Both wore a broken arrow brand.
“Dammit,” he muttered, soothing his anxious horse with a few pats on the neck. The bastards who’d stolen Summer’s bull could be out there watching, waiting to accuse him of cattle-rustling. Had they set him up?
He circled the cows for ten minutes, ever so slightly edging them in the direction of Summer’s ranch. There was no other movement, except high overhead, where two frolicking hawks played in the updrafts. Enjoying the antics of the hawks, Colt almost missed fresh tire tracks that ran parallel to the mo
untains. Tracks, he discovered on second glance, that connected to the narrower grooves of a trailer’s wheels.
Granted, it was a long-shot theory. Colt made a stab at it, anyway, guessing the men who did the original dirty work met up with a partner out here.
“Hmm.” If their goal had been to steal the bull, they would have wasted no time loading him into the trailer.
Dismounting, Colt studied the web of prints. It seemed to him that two horses had been loaded instead. Now, that was curious. Or maybe not. Perhaps their aim was to drive the bull a safe distance from the Forked Lightning and hope he got conveniently lost in this open range. Maybe he’d eventually turn up in someone else’s fall roundup. And maybe he wouldn’t.
Hoping he’d guessed right, Colt remounted and tried more aggressively to move those stupid cows. Let Summer deal with returning the borrowed heifers. She’d know who owned the broken arrow brand.
His strategy worked, albeit slowly.
Dang, raising horses sure beat this. They had the good sense to run when urged to do so. Cows had to be the slowest of Mother Nature’s creatures, except maybe for turtles. Even then, Colt thought he might have put his money on the turtles. If this was what he had to look forward to during the upcoming roundup, he’d better reconsider his career choices, he told himself grimly.
Noon came and went. Still Colt and his entourage plodded forward. He barely noticed the empty landscape anymore.
All at once, a lone rider appeared in the distance, headed straight for him. Tensing, Colt glanced around for cover. There was none, so he braced for the inevitable.
As the rider drew closer, Colt first identified the dog bounding along in the forefront. Lancelot. The dog reached the wandering trio of cattle before his mistress galloped up. Lancelot set to work nipping the heifers’ heels to hasten their progress.
“Where were you when I needed you, mutt?” Colt grumbled half under his breath.
Summer reined in a gray gelding that Colt noticed right away had a good bit of Arabian blood.
“You found him!” she exclaimed, sliding from her saddle to stand at Colt’s knee. “As it got later and later, I’m afraid we all had horrid visions of you lying dead in some gully. I couldn’t wait any longer. I had to ride out and see. Honestly, I can’t believe you found Jim Dandy.”
In her excitement, she was a sight to behold. Colt leaned down from the saddle and kissed her full on the lips. It seemed so right.
For a split second, she froze, her lips immobile. Then Colt shifted closer.
It wasn’t something she planned, but Summer’s palms slid up his chest. Her fingertips inched higher until they rested lightly against either side of his face in a move anchoring their mouths more firmly together. She’d slipped deeper into the kiss when suddenly his gelding snorted, reminding Summer where she was—and what she was doing. Panic built in her throat, and she released Colt with an explosive gasp.
He felt suddenly dizzy when she broke the kiss. The world around him had blurred. His limbs had gone so weak he hung in the balance a moment, nearly out of his saddle. Only a firm grip on the reins let him keep his seat. As if operating in slow motion, he eased upright. His head cleared, but he couldn’t explain why the panorama around him came into sharper focus. The sky was bluer. The horizon sharper. The sun brighter.
And he saw that Summer wore different clothing than she’d had on earlier. A short-sleeved white blouse topped her jeans now. The scarf he’d hoodwinked Trace into buying at the mall in Boise circled Summer’s throat. The knot rested a quarter inch above a rapidly beating pulse. A fascinating pulse. A kissable pulse.
Colt fought a strong urge to yank Summer into his arms so he could cover that beating pulse with his mouth.
Then what, Quinn? See how long it takes her to deck you again?
Since even that was tempting, Colt reined his horse aside while he struggled to dredge up a nonchalant smile.
Summer’s hands had flown to the crown of her hat. Her eyes remained wide and a bit unfocused. But as Colt’s horse veered, she was left squinting directly into the sun.
“I sure am glad to see you,” he said, attempting to gauge her new mood. “Watching flies buzz around Jim Dandy’s hindquarters for three hours isn’t my idea of entertainment.” Colt made a second stab at returning their meeting to a normal footing. He couldn’t believe he’d kissed her.
She swallowed a retort she’d come close to blasting Colt with. Obviously, though, that shocking kiss meant nothing to him. She’d almost embarrassed herself by making a fuss over what was nothing more than his delight at finding her bull.
He certainly didn’t need to know how badly her knees wobbled. Darn it, she could act just as unaffected as he could. “Ah, uh…three hours. Oh, that reminds me, you’re probably thirsty. I brought bottled water. And Audrey sent a sandwich.” She wheeled away to dig in her saddlebags, then swung around, holding her offerings aloft. She really hoped no effect of Colt’s kiss remained visible on her face.
Still rattled, Colt barely managed to croak “Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap to the water, tipped back his head and let the cool liquid drain down his throat. Whewee! In the future he’d have to watch his step.
Gazing at him from below, Summer was ill-prepared to deal with her almost physical reaction to the simple sight of a thirsty man drinking. It wasn’t until the bagged sandwich slid through her limp fingers and landed at her feet with a loud plop that she wrenched her eyes away from his strong, tanned throat.
Simple sight? Her new employee was anything but a simple man. Instead of mooning over him like a lovesick teen, she ought to wonder who he was. She’d lived in Callanton for all of her thirty-three years. Never had a man with Coltrane’s odd assortment of talents shown up to beg for work on the Forked Lightning.
A few days ago, he’d rappelled down and climbed up the steep cliffs of the gorge as easily as an experienced mountaineer. Not long after, he’d all but snapped his fingers and Tracey Jackson came running. They thought she hadn’t caught any of their conversation this morning. She’d heard Colt argue that he was more adept at tracking. Which he’d proved, finding an animal she’d thought was probably gone forever.
Colt’s arrival in her life at this unsettled moment seemed too damned convenient. Summer bent to retrieve the fallen sandwich. Something inside her resisted making the inquiries she ought to make without delay. Would’ve made in a heartbeat before Frank’s defection. He’d dealt her ego a fatal blow. And admittedly, she’d rather not know if Colt, like Frank, was less than he appeared on the surface.
Their eyes met again as she handed Colt the misshapen sandwich.
“Thanks. That water did wonders.” He gave her the empty bottle and unwrapped the sandwich. “Chasing cattle is a hot, dirty job. I didn’t know they’re slower than molasses in January. Horses are far prettier and way smarter,” he said, adding before he took a bite, “you should sell all your cows and raise horses on the Forked Lightning.”
“Is that your aim, Quinn?” she asked bitterly. “Are you trying to butter me up, hoping for an inside track to buy the Forked Lightning out from under the developer Frank has breathing down my neck?”
Because her unexpected question hit so close to target, Colt choked on his sandwich. Quick to recover, he ran the best bluff he could come up with on short notice. “If I had the kind of dough it’d take to buy prime property like this, sweetheart, you can bet your boots I would’ve already made an offer. Since I’m pretty much a working stiff, there’s little likelihood of me ever owning a spread this fancy. And speaking of work, Lancelot seems to have taken over my job. It sorely pains me to admit a squirty dog moves those lazy beasts better than I do.”
Unwilling to examine too closely the relief she felt at hearing him dispel an underlying fear, Summer managed a laugh. As she remounted, she realized belatedly that she’d been so glad to see Colt, she’d completely ignored the fact that Lancelot was nipping the heels of more cattle than just Jim Dandy.
“Hey, I
don’t own any brindled heifers.”
Colt polished off the last bite of the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, tucked the wrap in his shirt pocket and nudged his gelding even with Summer’s horse. “Be my guest. You can discuss it with Jim Dandy if you like. He took a shine to those mangy ladies, and I’m sure not gonna be the one to tell him he can’t take them both to the prom.”
Summer arched an eyebrow. “Like most men, Jim Dandy is indiscriminate when it comes to choosing women. I wonder whose heifers they are?”
“Their brand resembles a broken arrow.”
“Oh. Then they belong to Jesse Cook. His property butts against the Forked Lightning near Malheur Lake. His stock rarely strays this far. It’s no problem, though. I’ll load them up when we get home and take them back to him.”
“Is he a big, black-haired guy? Could be Native American?”
“He is. Jesse’s Paiute. If you want to see some fantastic horseflesh, you’ll have to go with me to his place. His grandfather is reportedly the finest horse trainer in eastern Oregon.”
“That would be Two Bears? An old guy who’s better at predicting weather than the almanac?”
“Yes.” Summer gaped at Colt. “You know Two Bears?”
“Only what I overheard at the Green Willow.”
“Hmm. You must have a fantastic memory to remember names and details about someone you’ve never met. I, ah, suppose Frank and I were a big topic, too.” Her voice trailed off, yet she slanted Colt an expectant glance from the corner of one eye.
He let his shoulders rise and fall. “It seems to be human nature. People gossip.”
“So, tell me. How did the sordid tale of my divorce came off sounding to a stranger?”
“It depends.”
She choked up on the reins. “Depends on what?”
Colt kicked his horse into a canter. “On which person was talking, I guess.”
“God, I hate being the object of everyone’s speculation. Or worse, their pity.”
Wide Open Spaces (Harlequin Super Romance) Page 12