Brazen

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “He could have laced the feed,” Clay agreed, “and when I let the horses into the corral it would have been waiting for them. Esai and Ben came in just as I was leaving, so their horses went in shortly after. Unless Farnum confesses, there’s no way we can ever know for sure.”

  Siobhan looked at Warrior then out to the corral at the other horses that had been poisoned. “Maybe there is.”

  Clay knew she meant reading the horses in hopes that they’d seen the guilty person.

  After checking out Warrior’s vital signs, Siobhan appeared ecstatic. “Big improvement. His heart rate is down to seventy and his temperature is almost normal.” She stroked the horse’s nose and looked into his eyes. “Eyes are nearly clear.”

  Siobhan kept her gaze locked with Warrior’s for an interminable moment. The horse continued to focus on her, yet Siobhan sighed and appeared frustrated.

  “It’s all right, Warrior,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against his. “You just get well, okay? We can talk later.”

  Clay waited until she left the stall. “Nothing, huh?”

  She shook her head. “At least he’s getting better.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “You’re his person, too, you know. He remembers you.”

  “So you have read him.” The fact that she’d shared his experiences with Warrior made Clay feel even closer to her. “Maybe you can get something from one of the other horses. C’mon, let’s go out to the corral.”

  Esai and Ben sat on the fence watching the sick horses.

  “They’re coming along,” Ben said. “A couple days and they’ll be as good as new.”

  “If I ever get my hands on the one that did this…” Esai grumbled.

  Though Clay had some ideas of what he would like to do to the bastard responsible, he didn’t share them lest he work up the old hand. Or himself. It had taken work to learn to curb his temper. If he didn’t keep it in check…he didn’t want to think of what he might do to the responsible person.

  “Why don’t you guys take a break,” Clay suggested.

  “I’d like to check the horses over myself,” Siobhan added. “We don’t all need to be here.”

  “Sure.” Ben jumped down from the fence. “I could stretch my legs. C’mon, Esai. Let’s put a pot of coffee on. It’s gonna be a long night.”

  When the two men were out of earshot, Siobhan said, “Thanks. I’d rather not have an audience.”

  “Figured. Want me to leave, too?”

  “No, of course not.” She sounded surprised that he’d asked.

  Clay settled himself on the fence to watch Siobhan address the three horses one at a time, first checking them over physically before trying to make that mental connection. She spent enough time at it, kept her expression unreadable. Though he wanted to know what she was seeing, he didn’t say a word lest he throw a wrench into the process.

  In the end she didn’t have to say anything. Disappointment was clear in her expression. “No connection?”

  “That’s not the problem. They simply didn’t see anything. The carrot-apple mix was already out here when they were put in the corral, just as you suggested.”

  IT WAS A LONG NIGHT.

  Because Siobhan determined the corralled horses were past the crisis around midnight, she sent Esai and Ben to the bunkhouse to get some sleep. Jacy hadn’t come back from wherever she’d gone off to, so it was up to Siobhan and Clay to watch over Warrior to make sure the horse didn’t fall asleep too soon. They took turns, one napping on the bale of hay while the other kept vigil.

  It was sometime in the middle of the night when Siobhan awoke to see Clay in Warrior’s stall, cradling the horse’s head in his hands, chanting something too low for her to hear—something his grandfather had taught him, perhaps. Watching from the cover of dark, she saw how Warrior responded to Clay, nickering softly and pushing his nose into Clay’s chest. Then Clay reached up and pulled Warrior’s head against him and murmured something into the horse’s ear. The love between man and horse was too clear to deny.

  It was a moment that stood still in time. Siobhan’s heart tripped a beat and she felt the blood rushing through her veins. Seeing Clay like this with her desperately ill horse touched her so deeply that she could hardly breathe. Horses were her passion, and unless she was mistaken, Clay’s feelings for his equine charges went deeper than she’d ever guessed. And it was obvious to her that Warrior was irrevocably bonded to the man who had gentled and trained him.

  Just as she was now bonded to them both.

  It was that moment that drove home how much she still loved Clay Salazar.

  Now what would she do with the knowledge?

  The prophecy still hung over her head like the sword of Damocles. It could come down on her—or rather Clay—at any moment. She already lived with the guilt of Jeff’s death—surely it couldn’t happen again.

  Realizing Clay was leaving Warrior’s stall, Siobhan flashed her eyes closed and feigned sleep. His footsteps drew closer and she felt the bale shift slightly with his weight. Her heart thundered so hard and fast, she feared he could hear its beat. But if he was aware of her physical response to him, he kept it to himself. Gradually her heart slowed and she was able to think more clearly.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  Allowing her mind to open, she searched for him, for the connection they used to share. Again she hit a wall, which made her feel a little lost.

  That connection had been a part of them. It had made them who they were together. It had made them one.

  Confused, Siobhan didn’t know what to think. That, indeed, Clay was safe from the prophecy?

  Or that he was no longer open to love, at least not with her?

  Chapter Eleven

  Siobhan was relieved that by dawn the horses in the corral were eating. Though Warrior’s heart rate and temperature were back to normal, he still turned away from the food bucket. She had to keep reminding herself what Doc Riddley had told her. She simply had to wait.

  Nothing she could do would rush the horse’s recovery.

  What she could do now that she didn’t have to be at the horse’s side every moment was face down Early Farnum. Which was her plan directly after breakfast.

  “Are you sure you want to face Early alone?” Jacy asked.

  Siobhan didn’t know when her sister-in-law had returned to the ranch or where she’d been the night before. Jacy had simply showed up at the house in time for breakfast and had been appropriately shocked that someone had poisoned the horses right under their noses. She’d admitted she’d put the feed buckets out before running an errand, so Early had unsupervised access to them at least for a short time.

  “Siobhan won’t be alone when she goes to see Farnum,” Clay said. “I’ll be with her.”

  “You and who else? Early has at least a dozen hands working for him on that spread.”

  “What do you think he might do?” Siobhan asked. “Have his men kill us and bury us where no one will find us?”

  “Fine, joke all you want, but there’s nothing funny about this situation, Siobhan,” Jacy said. “I never would have guessed Early Farnum was behind any of what’s been going on around here, but if he has been…then he’s a very dangerous man. Who knows what he’ll do to you?”

  Realizing her sister-in-law was simply worried for her welfare, Siobhan said, “Thanks for the warning,” but still headed for the back door. “Clay?”

  “Right behind you.” He took a big swallow of coffee and then followed.

  Siobhan felt a little weird with him now. Her middle-of-the-night emotional discovery should have brought them closer, but the aftereffect was just the opposite. He put her nerves on edge. Part of her wanted to talk out what she was feeling with him, while another part thought she was being ridiculous.

  Clay hadn’t made any declarations of love…like…or otherwise.

  She still wasn’t certain why he’d come to warn her or why he’d chosen to stay if only for a while, but she put it to some lingering s
ense of obligation.

  They were in his truck, heading off the property, when he said, “Jacy could be right, you know. Farnum could be dangerous. If he poisoned the horses, chances are he’s responsible for the other things that have gone wrong on the spread.”

  “So you think I should just let it be?”

  “I was thinking maybe it would be a good idea if we told Sheriff Tannen what we suspect.”

  “We don’t have any proof, Clay. Besides, Tannen believes Jeff’s death was an accident.”

  “Doesn’t mean he can’t have a change of opinion.”

  But Siobhan’s mind was made up. “I want to speak to Early. If he poisoned my horses, I want to know it.”

  “I hope you can recognize the truth when you hear it.”

  Not wanting to argue, she didn’t respond.

  Early’s spread was the antithesis of the Double JA. The entry was flanked by columns that supported a metal archway. The six-foot metal gates stood open, so Clay sped right through. The drive to the house was long and hilly and winding and carefully landscaped with high-desert plants. A wall of oleander graced one side of the house.

  “Look at that,” Siobhan choked out. Her chest went so tight she could hardly breathe. “He didn’t even have to go looking for something to poison my horses.”

  “It doesn’t look good,” Clay agreed. “Farnum must have some warning system when a vehicle goes through the gates,” he suddenly added. “He’s out on the porch waiting for us.”

  Siobhan’s hands tightened into fists the moment she spotted the man coming through the front door. As they pulled up to the house, she told herself to relax and to keep her temper. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop her heart from pounding or her stomach from swirling, but she could put on a good face.

  They were barely out of the truck when Early asked, “What can I do for you, Siobhan?” though he was looking straight at Clay with a hostile expression.

  “I saw you drive off my place yesterday.”

  He focused on her. “I came to apologize for taking off without you the other night after the meeting. Not very gentlemanly of me.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she said coolly. “Not gentlemanly to mess with my horses, either.”

  “Your horses?” Early said. “What happened to your horses?”

  “They all survived. If that matters to you.”

  Early’s brow pulled into a frown. He looked from her to Clay to her, no comprehension in his expression. Either he was a great actor or he really didn’t know what she meant.

  “Survived what?” he asked.

  Clay finally spoke up. “The oleander leaves you mixed into their buckets of carrots and apples.”

  Early bristled. “Where the hell did you get the idea I would do such a terrible thing?”

  Siobhan looked back at the oleander growing near the house and asked, “How long did you get to the barn before Jacy?”

  “Let me get this straight.” Early’s face was florid and his voice rose a notch. “I went over to your spread out of common decency. To apologize for leaving you in town. Now you’re accusing me of being some kind of damn criminal, of trying to poison your horses just because I have oleander on my property? I don’t have an exclusive on the plant. It grows everywhere.”

  “Not on the Double JA,” Siobhan said, her certainty that Early was guilty quickly waning.

  “Your being there right before they got sick was awfully convenient,” Clay said.

  “Convenient or not, I didn’t do it! And I’ll thank you both to get off my property. You know the way!”

  With that, Early slammed back into the house, leaving them staring at each other. Neither said a word as they climbed back into Clay’s truck and drove off.

  Early’s indignant response resonated with Siobhan. She mentally went over the brief confrontation, but if there were any chinks in Early’s story she couldn’t find them.

  “He didn’t do it,” she finally said.

  “I know.”

  “Who, then? You think whoever it was laced the buckets before Early got there?”

  “Not necessarily. Someone could have been biding his time, planning on doing the damage once we were all out of the way. There was probably a half hour when no one was there when we went to get cleaned up,” Clay said. “Could have been Vargas sneaking around. Or Buck. Or Galvan, for that matter.”

  “What if the poisoning was delayed?” Siobhan mused. “What if whoever locked me in the tack room meant to poison the horses but I spoiled that plan? And then you showed up.”

  “Possible.”

  “Whoever it was drove a black truck similar to this one. That’s why I originally thought it was you.”

  “Like I said, that’s possible.”

  “But you don’t sound convinced. Why not?”

  “Because I think the intruder that night had a different goal. I found rags and a can of gasoline near the corral.”

  “And you didn’t say anything?”

  “I didn’t want to scare you.”

  “That’s not scary…it’s terrifying.” Siobhan shuddered as she thought what might have happened that night if Clay hadn’t been around to rescue her. “At least one of our suspects is eliminated,” she said. “And if Vargas did it, then Buck is the one behind everything, starting with the bank calling in its loan before Jeff died.”

  “Buck likes to brag,” Clay mused.

  Making Siobhan think he had a plan.

  AFTER DROPPING SIOBHAN off at the barn so she could check on Warrior, Clay headed for Soledad. He wanted to face Buck Hale, but in neutral territory. Going onto the man’s land would be asking for trouble and there would be no one to back him up. He wasn’t crazy.

  Alone for the moment, he felt Siobhan’s absence. It had only been a few days, but he was getting used to being with her again. Developing a dependence on her presence. He worried that was a mistake. No matter how he felt about her, Siobhan didn’t feel the same. And even if she did, she trusted the family curse more than she did her own feelings.

  Which made him not trust her in the most primal of ways.

  His thoughts about their relationship were cut short when his cell phone rang. He checked the ID—John Whitehorse was calling him back.

  “John, did you get something on Galvan?”

  “I don’t know if it’s really anything you can use, Clay, but word is Galvan bought up a couple of small properties in the northeast part of the state.”

  “Ranches?”

  “Land, as far as I heard.”

  “What kind of land?”

  “Land that’s not connected. Different counties, even.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “We’re talking cheap pieces of property no good for grazing because there’s too much rock.”

  “Whoa. Sounds like he’s looking for something to make him rich. As head of the committee that reconsidered uranium mining in New Mexico—”

  “He’s developed a personal interest. My conclusion, too.”

  “No wonder Galvan is so determined to make uranium mining a reality in this part of New Mexico.” Clay’s mind was already roiling with the possibilities.

  “Sorry that’s all I got.”

  “You did good, John. Thanks.”

  “Hey,” John said, “when are you gonna visit your grandfather?”

  “Soon. I’ll let you know. Dinner will be on me.”

  They talked for a few minutes about personal things, about John’s family—his wife and two kids—until Clay passed the town limits. He wound up the conversation as he parked in front of the Gecko Saloon.

  Inside, he got a beer from the bartender. He didn’t know the guy, so he sat himself at a table where he was willing to wait for Buck Hale to come in even if he had to close down the place.

  Luckily, he didn’t have that long to wait.

  Within a half hour, Buck and his boys strolled in and took over the bar. Not Vargas, though.

  Clay stayed put and tried to drill a
hole in Buck’s back with his gaze. Eventually Buck turned and glared at Clay.

  “I’m surprised to see you here, mestizo.”

  “Where do you think I should be?” Clay asked.

  “With your woman…oh, that’s right, she’s not your woman, is she?”

  If Buck thought he would get a rise with the taunt, Clay refused to give him the satisfaction. He merely smiled a secretive smile, as if he knew something Buck didn’t.

  “You’re here because you know she needs you, right?” When Clay didn’t respond, Buck seemed a little agitated. “Dealing with poisoned horses is a little much for her to handle alone, don’t you think?”

  “How did you know the horses were poisoned, Buck?”

  Buck’s silence spoke volumes before he said, “Word gets around.”

  “Word is…you might be responsible.”

  “Hey, Buck, you gonna let him accuse you like that?” Buck’s boy Ricky asked.

  Clay ignored him and went on. “Or maybe you had Vargas do your dirty work. Where is he, anyway?”

  “Now if it was your horses, that’d be an opportunity I might not want to miss, but I don’t have anything against Siobhan.”

  “Then who does?”

  “Maybe you ought to ask Jacy.”

  Clay started. “Why? What do you know?”

  “That’s all I’m saying on the matter.” Buck turned his back on Clay and flagged the bartender. “Another beer.”

  Clay sat there a moment, practically quivering with the desire to do whatever it took to make Buck talk. But he’d learned his lesson about letting his temper get the best of him, and with Buck, at that. No way was he going to let himself slip backward.

  He’d put Buck on notice. If Buck was guilty, hopefully he would slip up.

  Wondering what Buck thought Jacy could tell him, Clay rose from the table and sauntered past the bully and his minions and out the door. No doubt Buck knew about Jacy and Galvan. Did the man really think the politician had poisoned their horses? He just didn’t know.

  Sliding into the truck’s driver’s seat, he pulled out his cell, thinking to see if Manny had heard anything about Galvan. He called the correctional center office. Aaron answered.