Would that be enough time to do what he needed to make sure Siobhan was safe and the ranch was running smoothly? His gut told him it was a gamble he was sure to lose. But three weeks was all he had unless he wanted to quit. Considering this was the first job that made him feel as if he could make a difference in someone’s life, Clay wasn’t ready to give it up unless he had good reason.
Unless he had Siobhan.
There it was…he couldn’t deny it any longer.
He’d at first convinced himself he was only going to warn Siobhan that she was in danger. Then he’d thought he needed to help her because she had no one else. Now he knew that, no matter how hard he’d tried to convince himself he was over her, he still loved Siobhan McKenna, maybe more now than he had before she’d shut him out of her life. She’d grown into a fine woman with a sense of responsibility that went beyond what should be expected of her.
And she was still the woman who could make his insides twist with a mere smile.
He thought about her mother, Sorcha McKenna, who’d never married, had never seen fit to give her children their father’s name. He’d always had the feeling that the independent woman had forced Siobhan to break up with him so Siobhan would be like her mother—without a man.
If that were true, perhaps he had a chance with her. Away from her mother’s influence, perhaps she would see things differently. Only how would he know for sure? If he got too involved with her, Siobhan could turn on him again.
How could he ever trust her?
He was headed across the grounds to the barn and his living quarters to pack a bag when he heard the smack-smack of running footfalls behind him.
“Hey, Clay, you shoulda seen me today.”
Clay turned to find a grinning Manny come up fast behind him. Setting his hat back on his head, he asked, “What the hell happened to put such a big smile on your mug?”
“I was able to touch Stormcloud like you showed me. I mean I really touched him, stroked his nose and his neck.” Manny’s grin widened. “His flesh didn’t even quiver.”
“Maybe Aaron was the right man to work with you,” Clay said of the trainer who covered for him on his days off.
“Nah, no one is as good as you. You told me I could do it if I learned some patience…so I tried as hard as I could and it worked. I just wanted to thank you…you know…for not giving up on me. Anything I can do for you, tell me.”
Clay’s gut tightened with satisfaction. This made his job worthwhile—this kid turning his life around. “Just work hard and make me proud.”
“That’s it? I’ll do anything for you, Clay. You just say the word.”
About to tell Manny he’d already done it, Clay hesitated and thought about the offer for a moment. There was something the kid could do—be his ears and eyes here at the prison.
“I’ll be gone on vacation for a few weeks, Manny. You could keep your ear to the ground and report back to me.”
Manny’s grin faded to be replaced by a more serious expression. His dark eyes snapped and he actually looked eager when he asked, “About what?”
“Paco Vargas may be making trouble for a friend of mine. The other day, I overheard him and Frank Dudley talking about it, and now Vargas is working for a man who doesn’t like my friend much. Her ranch has had too many problems in a short time to just be a coincidence. That’s why I’m taking time off—to help her and to figure out who’s messing with her.”
“Her? A woman!”
“Yes, a woman.” Not that he intended to explain further, Clay thought, noting Manny’s raised eyebrows. “I figure Dudley probably knows what’s what, and he’s got an itch to talk, so if you hear any more gossip about the Double JA Ranch or about Siobhan McKenna, I would surely appreciate your passing it on to me.”
His expression fervent, Manny nodded. “You got it. Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I never liked Vargas myself.”
Clay wrote his cell phone number on a piece of paper and handed it to the kid. “Ask Aaron to get you to a phone if you hear anything, but don’t tell anyone else. You keep a low profile on this. I don’t want anyone to target you in retaliation if I mess things up for Paco Vargas.”
Manny stood taller and puffed out his chest, reminding Clay of the way he used to swagger around the grounds when he was first incarcerated. He’d lost most of that bravado since working in the horse training program, but obviously he could easily call it up at will.
“Hey, I can hold my own, Clay,” Manny assured him. “Don’t worry about me none.”
But worrying was part of Clay’s nature—he simply couldn’t help it after the way his own life had gone south when he was the kid’s age. “Just be careful.”
After clapping Manny in the shoulder, Clay then started off for the barn.
“Hey, Clay,” Manny called after him, “you’re gonna be back, right? After your vacation with this woman?”
Feeling his gut tighten at the implication in Manny’s voice, Clay turned to face him but kept walking backward. “That’s the plan.” Though he truthfully couldn’t say for sure.
“Good. No one can handle a horse like you, and I want to learn from the best. When I get outta here, I want to make you proud.”
“I’m already proud just knowing you want that for yourself,” Clay returned.
Shoving aside the niggle of doubt that made him worry that maybe he shouldn’t have involved the kid in Siobhan’s business—or anything where Paco Vargas was concerned—Clay rushed to pack his bag.
Chapter Seven
By the time Siobhan placed her order and arrived at the Soledad Community Center, the meeting was already in progress, and Early was parked on the aisle halfway to the podium. He hadn’t bothered to save her a seat.
“We have a different viewpoint on uranium mining than in the old days,” Raul Galvan was saying, giving Jacy, who sat in the front row, a toothy smile.
The way Jacy was focused on the politician, Siobhan thought her sister-in-law seemed entranced. Siobhan hadn’t even known Jacy had planned to attend the meeting—Jacy didn’t usually care to involve herself in anything that didn’t concern ranching. Apparently the draw for her sister-in-law wasn’t in the topic, but in the man himself.
Siobhan slid into a seat in the back of the crowded room as one of the town council members said, “The courts approved uranium mining in northwestern New Mexico. If it comes to that, they’ll do the same here.”
“And endanger our drinking water the same as they’re doing to the Navajos,” a woman added.
A murmur set off across the room. People were obviously worried about radiation poisoning. As well they should be, Siobhan thought.
Galvan held up his hands to quiet down the protest. “I’ve been told mining uranium only emits negligible airborne radiation.”
Siobhan couldn’t help herself. “Any radiation is too much risk, if you ask me.”
The room rumbled with agreement.
“The state is going broke!” Galvan said, raising his voice to be heard. “The town is going broke. We’re all going broke. Maybe uranium mining is the key to saving our way of life.”
This time the murmurs shifted and some of the ranchers nearby appeared hopeful. Siobhan couldn’t believe they were buying into this. Raul Galvan was a smooth talker, but surely they could see through him.
“Saving our way of life? That’s a ludicrous statement if I ever heard one!” Siobhan lunged to her feet and looked around the crowd. “Uranium mining is sure to change the way of life you all say you love! It will destroy life as we know it.”
“You don’t know anything about it, Siobhan.” Jacy stood, too. Her eyes flashed and her mouth tightened with emotion. “As usual, you want to run things your way. But Raul is the expert here and you have nothing to say about it. His committee has been studying the issue for two years. We should all trust him.”
Early snorted. “I never met a politician you could trust. So what’s in it for you, Galvan?”
Suddenly the
tone of the meeting shifted again. Rather than discussing whether or not uranium mining in this part of the state was what people wanted, they began making suppositions about Raul Galvan’s motives in sponsoring the movement.
“Probably going to get a kickback from the company he gets in here,” one man grumbled.
“Or he thinks it’ll do him politically,” an elderly woman said. “Is that it, Galvan? Think this’ll give you a boost up in your party?”
“Yeah,” Early said, “he probably wants to run for the U.S. Senate so he can get out of here once he ruins this part of the state!”
So was Early against mining or not? Siobhan couldn’t tell.
The only one who seemed to be apart from the discussion was Buck Hale, who stood to one side of the crowd, his shoulder hunched into the wall. He was watching and listening intently, but Siobhan couldn’t tell which side he was on, either. He was alone—no Paco Vargas in sight—and keeping his thoughts to himself. It was as if he was watching the meeting on a screen like a movie, as if he weren’t at all involved.
How odd.
And then Buck’s attention shifted to her, and the small, smug smile he gave her sent a chill skittering straight down Siobhan’s spine. What was he up to now? Making more plans to ruin her spread, to get her off the land?
“Calm down so we can discuss this rationally,” Galvan pleaded with the crowd, drawing her attention away from Buck. “Let me give you the facts before you make up your minds.”
But no one else seemed to be listening to him.
No one but Jacy. She moved to Galvan, slipped a hand through his arm and stood on tiptoe, her lips at his ear. Siobhan didn’t know what her sister-in-law was saying exactly, but it was apparent she was trying to mollify the politician.
As if realizing the meeting was a lost cause now, Galvan rushed down the aisle toward the exit, slowing only long enough to glare at Siobhan. Long enough for Jacy to catch up to him.
“Let’s go get a drink,” she said.
Galvan didn’t answer, simply gave Siobhan an even darker look—obviously blaming her for the ruin of his meeting—before sweeping out of the room with Jacy following at his heels.
The room began to clear. Siobhan glanced over to the wall, but Buck was already gone. She saw Early deep in conversation with one of his rancher cronies. It didn’t look as if he was going to budge any time soon, so she decided to wait for him outside where she could get some fresh air.
She practically walked straight into Sheriff Tannen. A tall, wiry man, his longish hair white, his eyebrows and mustache still dark, he was nevertheless solid and immovable, despite his advancing years.
“Siobhan.”
“Sheriff.” She started to walk around him, but he put out an arm to stop her.
“You and me got to talk, missy. What’s this about Buck Hale’s cows on your property?”
So Buck had gone through with his threat. “I don’t know anything about it. I’ve been having enough trouble managing my own cows. What makes you think I have the time or energy to rustle his?”
“Now, I didn’t say that.”
“Then what makes you think I would know how they got on my land?”
“Educated guess?”
All right then. If he wanted her thoughts, she would share. “Maybe Buck put those cows there himself, then made a big show so that I would look bad.”
“Show to whom? I understand it was only the two of you and some of your boys. So who was the show for?”
Siobhan hated admitting it, but Tannen made sense. If Buck had been behind the incident, he would have wanted independent witnesses so he could make a real case of it. Somehow she didn’t see Buck as being innocent, though. It wasn’t a far jump to think he was behind the myriad incidents on the Double JA.
“Are you going to arrest me?” she asked.
“Just wanted to give you fair warning.”
“That Buck is going to cause trouble? Nothing new there. Why else would he have hired Paco Vargas straight out of prison?”
“Maybe he believes in giving a man a second chance?”
Siobhan gaped at the sheriff. Was he serious? Surely he was trying to put a good spin on the situation.
“Maybe instead of investigating me,” she said, “you ought to be looking for my husband’s murderer.”
Tannen was taken aback. “Jeff died because he had an unfortunate accident.”
“Or maybe it was just made to look that way,” Siobhan countered. “Too many things have been going wrong at the ranch, too many to be just bad luck.”
“What reason would someone have to kill Jeff?”
Aware that several people were turning to listen to the exchange between her and the sheriff, Siobhan said, “I don’t know, but apparently you have no doubts about his death, so it looks like I’ll be investigating myself.”
Frustration seared Siobhan by the time she forced her way outside. The sheriff didn’t believe her. Maybe no one would but the man who’d put the thought in her head in the first place. Now she couldn’t forget it and worried that Clay had abandoned her and that she would be investigating alone.
And when she saw Early Farnum’s SUV speed right by her without him so much as looking back, she realized she was going to have to get home alone, too.
Jacy had already disappeared. If her sister-in-law would even speak to her now.
Taking a deep breath, Siobhan looked around for a possible ride and realized Clay was around somewhere. That was his truck parked across from the community center. Relief released the bubble of pressure that had been building in her chest.
Had he come to find her?
Checking the crowd of dispersing people, she didn’t see Clay, and he hadn’t gone inside the community center or he would have passed her.
Where, then, had he gone?
THE FIRST THING CLAY HAD seen after parking his truck was Paco Vargas skittering around the doors to the community center. Vargas moved off into the dark but hadn’t gone far before those doors burst open and Raul Galvan exited with Jacy Atkinson trying to stop him.
Galvan said something curt to her, and, giving him a furious expression, she stormed off.
Now what was that about?
Having meant to get to the meeting before it was over, Clay had realized he was already too late. His attention had been taken elsewhere, at any rate—on Galvan, who’d then gone after Vargas.
Now Clay didn’t hesitate to go after them both.
What did a politician want with a criminal?
Was Galvan warning off Vargas or was he conspiring with him?
Their voices were raised in argument as they headed down the street toward the town’s center, but Clay couldn’t make out what they were saying. Skirting around vehicles, he tried to stay out of sight while moving in on them.
Then as they came in line with the church, noisy townspeople and ranchers flooded out of the community center, distracting Clay just for a moment. He quickly glanced back, searching the crowd for Siobhan. When he didn’t immediately spot her, he turned back to where he’d last seen the two men.
Gone.
Damn! Breaking cover, Clay raced toward the church—a chunky adobe structure with rectangular belfries on each side of the building—and swept his gaze in every direction for Galvan or Vargas. Nothing!
The men had to be inside.
As he reached the walkway leading up to the heavy pine doors, Clay slowed. The church windows were dark and he assumed the doors were locked. He reached for the handle anyway and found he was mistaken. The panel creaked open.
Slipping inside, he stopped and let his eyes adjust to the dark. The only light came from a metal stand to the right of the pews. It held myriad lit votive candles in red glass holders beneath a statue of the Virgin Mary—offerings for favors for the people who lit them or as prayers for their dead relatives. He gravitated in that direction, and the sharp smoky scent curling off the candles assaulted his nose. Stopping again for a few seconds, he simply listened
.
Silence surrounded Clay, but it didn’t make him easy. No matter that the church seemed vacant, he didn’t trust that he was alone. He sensed another presence. Vargas? This wasn’t the ex-con’s style—Vargas wasn’t afraid of being direct. So why the game? Where was he and what were his intentions? Had he had a good reason for not wanting Clay to see him with Galvan?
Doing as Grandfather had taught him, Clay calmed his own breathing and wiped his mind free of extraneous thoughts and concentrated on the muted rustles of the dark space, on the barely audible creaks and groans and clicks coming from somewhere nearby. Or was it just the wind sweeping past the bells and down the belfries and into the church?
Was that whisper he heard behind him the wind or a voice?
He whipped around but if anyone was there, he couldn’t place a body. He could, however, sense another presence.
Clay froze, waited for whomever it was to tire of the game, waited for the person to expel a sharp breath or to take that first step toward him. Vargas was trouble waiting to happen, and Clay was convinced the ex-con was having himself a good time playing a cat-and-mouse game.
Then a nearly imperceptible sound came from an unexpected direction. He whirled around on the balls of his feet, ready to lunge…straight into what felt like a wall of steel smashing into his head.
Clay crashed to the floor, his quickly fading gaze caught by the rapid flicker of red as dozens of lit votive candles flew toward him.
Chapter Eight
Certain the man she’d glimpsed going inside the church had been Clay, Siobhan raced to the entry. Instinct told her to hurry, and her instincts were seldom wrong.
“Clay?” she called as she swung open a door only to be assaulted by smoke. Eyes widening, she turned back and screamed, “Fire!” to the townspeople outside.
“Fire!” a man echoed. “There’s a fire in the church! Someone call it in!”
Not willing to wait for backup lest it come too late, Siobhan was already inside. “Clay, where are you?”
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