by Norah Wilson
She released the gelding’s foot and stood. “He might want to try drilling holes in the wall on either side and suturing it first for more stability.”
Cal nodded. “I’ll suggest that.”
They’d worked companionably for the last hour, checking each of the animals over and dressing hooves.
Cal knew he should be in his office. He really should be thinking about animal unit months and tinkering with the grazing plan. Unfortunately he didn’t have the headspace for it.
His life was a mess, and to top it off, he’d just taken his father onto the payroll and sent Delia to town to deposit that thirty-thousand-dollar check. His brain froze up when he thought about that, which is why he was out here in the cool, dark barn, rubbing pine tar into horses’ hooves.
The door from the tack room banged shut and he glanced up to see Marlena approaching. Great. Feeling hunted, he elbowed his way into the roan stallion’s box. “Hide me, Blue,” he muttered.
Marlena stopped unerringly outside the roan’s stall. “Ugh, pine tar. You’d think they could come up with something better.”
Cal didn’t look up. “Hundred percent hydration rate to the hoof, and it’s generic. Pretty hard to beat.”
“I’m bored.”
He bit back a sigh. “Go play with Brady.”
She lifted the hair off her neck with a flip of her hand. “I can’t. He’s mad at me.”
This time he rolled her a sideways look. “Whatever for?”
She had the grace to color. “Lend me the Blazer.”
“No.” He bent to examine the roan’s right front hoof.
“The old Ford then.”
“You’re not going into Calgary.”
A pause. “You can’t keep me here, Cal.”
He snorted. “Who says I want to?”
“Then give me a vehicle, dammit!”
He straightened, abandoning hope she would go away and leave him in peace. “Your little loan shark problem disappear overnight? Some benefactor paid him back for you maybe?”
Her beautiful eyes flashed. “No.”
“I see. Then you think he’s forgiven your default in the whole three weeks you’ve been here?”
“No, but…”
“Then don’t go showing your face in town. You want to hide out here, fine, but you’re not going to run back and forth to Calgary. I’ve got enough to worry about without you leading some thug to my doorstep. If you leave now, you don’t come back.”
“You are such a bastard.”
Cal disregarded the insult. The sheen in her eyes told him she was very close to the edge, and he hadn’t finished with her yet. “One more thing. You need to decide what you’re going to do about Brady. If you’re done with him, stay clear of him. And if you’re not, for God’s sake, stay away from Harvey McLeod. Now that you know about the bad blood between those two, there ain’t no reason to go stirring the pot.”
Marlena drew her breath in on a hiss. “You smug, superior sonofabitch! It must be nice being so damned perfect.”
On that note, she marched out. Perfect? Him? That was rich. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d put a foot right.
Lauren emerged from Sarge’s stall to stand outside Blue’s. He took one look at her and sighed. She had that look again.
“What?” he demanded.
“I’m not being critical.”
He arched a brow, searching her face with narrowed eyes. “No? You look like you want to say something.”
She held his gaze for just a split second before glancing down at her hands, but it was long enough for him to glimpse indecision. Not your garden variety should-I-tell-him-his-judgment-sucks-or-keep-my-mouth-shut indecision, either. This was great big indecision. Mixed, he thought, with a little fear.
“Okay, spill it.”
The faintest blush touched her cheekbones, but she lifted her head and looked him straight in the eyes.
“I was thinking maybe Marlena would be better off somewhere else. Maybe you should just give her a vehicle and some money and send her off somewhere.”
“Send her away?” His mind staggered under the thought, a thought he found difficult to attribute to Lauren. “Geez, Marlena’s not my favorite person either, but there are people out there with a vested interest in messing her up. She defaulted on a debt and they aren’t about to turn the other cheek.”
“I know. It’s just—”
“Okay, they probably wouldn’t whack her over ten grand, but they can’t afford to let her go scot-free either.” Lauren really thought he should cut Marlena loose? “That’s the deal—you pay one way or another.”
“She could go somewhere quiet, stay low…”
“What’s wrong with right here?” He watched her face carefully. “It doesn’t get much quieter than this, especially now with the guests gone. If we try to put her into total cold storage, she’d be back in Calgary inside a week.”
“There must be a safer place for her.”
He snorted. “Yeah, it’s called police protective custody, but I don’t think they grant that for loan defaulters. Not that she’d go along with it anyway.” He let himself out of the stall to move closer to her. “I don’t get why you think she’s at special risk here. She used her maiden name for the loan, so they’re not likely to track her down. And even if they did, they’d have to get through me and the boys first. We can protect her here.”
She bit her lip. “I’m not sure we can.”
A sudden thought struck him. Maybe she just wanted to get Marlena out of the way? But why? Could she be jealous of the idea of him and Marlena?
No. He shook his head to clear it. No way. Lauren probably understood better than anyone how utterly uninterested he was in resuming that relationship.
What other reason could she have for wanting Marlena out of the picture? Could Lauren be interested in Brady?
No. Again the answer came with absolute certainty. Not that he had any illusions that she loved him, but there was no doubt she wanted the hell out of him. No one could make love like that while fantasizing about someone else.
Which brought him back to the protection issue. “I don’t understand why you think she’d be safer somewhere else. You know something I don’t?”
She drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “It’s not so much the thugs I’m worried about,” she said at last. “It’s the thing with Brady and Harvey that scares me.”
Of course. Damn, he must really be tired. She’d talked about it before. “This is about that premonition, isn’t it?”
She clasped her arms around her chest. “It’s kind of a recurring thing.”
This time when he looked into her eyes, it gave him a jolt. Shit, she really was scared.
“Cal, I have a bad, bad feeling about this.”
Despite the anxiety in her eyes, he felt himself relax. Just a bad feeling, a sense of impending doom. Now that was familiar territory. Lord knew he’d had his share of bad feelings over Marlena. Lauren was scared now, but she’d shake it off.
“Well, that makes two of us, sweetheart. Anyone can see Marlena’s a menace to herself.” He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, then cupped her face. “But don’t you see? It really wouldn’t matter where she went. She carries trouble with her. At least we can protect her here.”
She lowered her lashes. “You’re right.”
Her acquiescence should have pleased him, but he couldn’t completely shake the unease that had taken root when he’d seen that fear in her face. He tipped her chin up with his finger and smiled into her eyes. “She’ll be all right. You’ll see. Hey, nothing came of it the last time you had a bad feeling, right?”
“Right.”
She returned his smile, but it didn’t come close to reaching her worried eyes. As he watched her disappear into Sarge’s stall again, he had the disquieting feeling he’d just been gauged. Gauged and found wanting.
For the next half hour, they made their way around the stalls. Lauren’s emot
ions ping-ponged wildly.
She should have told Cal about the vision. It was criminal to withhold the information.
No, she’d done the right thing. She’d seen the way his face cleared the moment he made the connection with what he’d qualified as a premonition.
But if she just had the guts to spit it out, they could work together to ensure Marlena didn’t ride off into any sunsets.
No, they couldn’t, because he’d dismiss it as hokum, just as her former fiancé had. He’d look at her blankly and think, All she needs to complete this picture is a tinfoil hat.
If she told him, there would be at least a small chance it would make a difference.
If she told him, there was an excellent chance he’d dump her faster than Garrett Robertson had. Worse, he might run her clear off the ranch for being a nutcase. Or—more likely—for her deceit. Because if she came clean about the visions, he’d know that was her whole reason for being here. He’d know she’d lied to him from the start. And if he evicted her, she’d lose all access to Marlena, all hope of saving her.
A voice from the barn door distracted her from this back-and-forth self-torture.
“Yo, anybody home?”
She dropped the mare’s foot and turned toward the voice. Bruce Dysan. Her heart leapt with a new fear. He’d said he would call with the test results.
Cal stepped out of the adjacent stall. “Down here,” he called. Under his breath, he muttered, “This isn’t going to be good, is it? He’d have phoned if it was good news.”
Lauren stepped out to join Cal, touching his back briefly. “Let’s wait to hear what he has to say.”
“Dr. Dysan,” Cal said when the other man pulled up. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but we’ve been into the pine tar.”
“Of course.” Dr. Dysan smiled, a glimmer of white teeth in a full beard. “Look, I’m sorry about that newspaper article. I understand you’ve had some collateral damage already.” The smile faded from his eyes. “As I told Dr. Townsend, the reporter who called me already had the details. I couldn’t deny the investigation, and I didn’t think a ‘no comment’ was prudent.”
“I understand. The leak is my problem and I’ll deal with it.” Cal rolled his shoulders. “Right now I’d just as soon you gave me my medicine straight up. I’m thinking it’s bad news, you making a personal trip out here.”
Dr. Dysan laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t qualify it as good news, but I can guarantee you it’s not what you’re thinking.”
“It’s not anthrax?”
“Nope.”
Lauren watched Cal sag with relief. “Not anthrax.”
“Absolutely and unequivocally not anthrax.”
Cal straightened again. “You said it was bad news—if it’s not anthrax, what is it?”
“Not so much bad news as disturbing news.” Dr. Dysan took a deep breath. “Mr. Taggart, your steer was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” Cal’s eyebrows lifted, then swiftly drew together. “Well, I’ll be damned. I’d have sworn there wasn’t so much as a sprig of tall larkspur to worry about in that pasture.”
“I’m sure you’re right about the pasture being clean, but even if it isn’t, that’s not what killed your animal.”
“Then what did?”
The big man’s face looked grim. “Malice.”
Lauren’s pulse kicked. “Someone did this deliberately?”
“Unquestionably.” He handed Lauren a sheaf of papers. “Take a look for yourself and tell me what you think.”
She scanned the first page quickly, but stopped on the second. “Holy cow.”
“What?” Cal peered over her shoulder. “What is it?”
“Just a second.” She flipped the page and scanned the rest of the document, then looked at Dr. Dysan. “Are you sure about this? The tests are accurate?”
“I’m sure. After the first tests, I got a second lab to run another tox screen with the extra blood. Same results.”
Cal swore. “You’re saying someone fed poison to my steer?”
“More like injected it, I’d say.” Lauren looked up at Dr. Dysan for confirmation.
He nodded. “That’d be my guess.”
“Injected it? Like with a needle? That’s crazy,” Cal said. “Why would a person do something like that? If they had a hard-on for me, why wouldn’t they just shoot the damned thing?”
The veterinary inspector shrugged. “Bullets tell tales. Maybe your guy didn’t want to leave any evidence behind.”
“Slit its throat, then. That would have sent me a definite message. But this…” He shook his head. “Hell, we might have missed it altogether. Where’s the point in that?”
Lauren’s ears rang with a tinny sound and the fine hairs on her arms and neck stood up. “I can tell you the point.”
Both men turned toward her.
“I think whoever did this had something specific in mind. I think they wanted to make it look like anthrax.”
“Whoa, just a minute,” the veterinary inspector said. “You think someone custom-tailored a toxin to mimic anthrax?”
A quick look at Cal’s frozen face told Lauren he’d followed her leap. She turned urgently back to Dr. Dysan. “It could be done, right?”
Bruce Dysan took his glasses off, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I suppose so, but it would be hard. You’d have to know a lot about both the clinical manifestations of anthrax and—”
“Devious, black-hearted sonofabitch.”
Cal’s tone was flat, almost conversational, but Lauren heard the controlled fury beneath. Apparently Dr. Dysan sensed it too. He couldn’t take his eyes off Cal’s back as he strode toward the tack room. Lauren had to catch his arm to get his attention.
“Bruce, this is important. It’s possible, right? I mean, how hard can it be to learn about anthrax? You could probably find everything you need to know about it on the Internet. And if you knew your chemicals, or knew someone who did, couldn’t you design a poison to induce one or two cardinal symptoms?”
Dr. Dysan replaced his glasses, and turned back toward Lauren. “Toxicology’s not my area, but yeah, I suppose it could be done. I can see where this combination might cause the epistaxis and rapid death, maybe even inhibit rigor. But why would someone do that?”
“Easy,” Cal called from the door of the tack room. He’d lost the work gloves and found his Stetson. He jammed it low on his forehead, shadowing his eyes, as he closed the distance between them. “To put me out of the guest ranch business.”
Dr. Dysan’s brow furrowed. “But who would want to do that?”
“Who?” Cal plucked the pages of the toxicology report from Lauren’s unresisting fingers. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll show you who. I’ll bring his head back on a pike.”
Wordlessly Lauren watched him jump in the pickup and barrel down the driveway, kicking up a trail of dust behind him.
“Bruce?”
“Yeah?”
“I think I’m going to need a drive.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m sorry, I really can’t allow you to go in there. Mr. McLeod is in conference.”
Cal glowered at the young woman who barred the door to McLeod’s office. “Look, I know you’re just doing your job, lady, but you’ll have to step aside. I have business with your boss.”
“I can see that.” She stood unflinching under a scowl that usually sent his men scattering. “Urgent business too, by the look of it,” she said soothingly. “Why don’t you follow me back to my desk? I’ll give you the earliest available appointment.”
Briefly he thought about simply picking her up and moving her. God, he had to get a grip. He’d never laid an unwelcome hand on a woman and he wasn’t about to start now.
Cal closed his eyes before she could see them harden. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then opened his eyes. “Okay, ma’am, we’ll do it your way,” he said, letting his posture relax.
She flushed prettily. “This way, please,” she said and turned
to lead him back to the outer office.
Instead of following her as he’d led her to expect, Cal whirled and strode to the double oak doors, yanked them open, and stepped into Harvey McLeod’s conference room.
Three male faces swiveled toward him as he burst through the doors. The men sat around a gleaming table situated on an enormous Persian rug. Cigar smoke hung in the air, thick, pungent, and expensive. Fat cats, city bred and slow. No threat.
It took Cal all of a few seconds to size up the strangers before zeroing in on McLeod. Surprise flickered briefly in the other man’s eyes, but otherwise he betrayed no perceptible alarm at having his wood-paneled inner sanctum invaded.
For an instant no one moved. No one spoke. Then the secretary, her face stained with a less attractive flush now, skidded to a stop beside Cal. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop him.”
Harvey took a fat cigar out of his mouth. “It’s all right, Lorna. I know how…forceful our Mr. Taggart can be.”
Lorna eyed Cal with hostility. “Shall I call the police?”
“Heavens, no.” Harvey smiled as though hugely amused by the suggestion, and Cal experienced a powerful urge to rearrange the perfect symmetry of his neighbor’s face.
“I’d reserve judgment on that, McLeod,” Cal growled, moving closer. “Think you can dick with me and get away with it?”
“Charming.” Harvey’s smile broadened even as his eyes hardened. The two suits across the table edged their chairs backward on silent casters. Just inside the door, the secretary held her ground.
“How exactly have I…dicked…with you, Mr. Taggart? All I’ve done is offer to take that ranch off your hands before the bank takes it. My offer still stands.”
“Go to hell.” Cal clenched his fists at his sides, mainly to prevent using them on Harvey’s face. “You knew I wouldn’t sell, so you poisoned my steer to make it look like anthrax.”
Harvey’s smile died, but his face went blank. “The tests are back? You can confirm you don’t have anthrax?”
“I can do more than that.” Cal brandished the report. “I can tell you what did kill that steer, and it ain’t contagious.”
Cal watched Harvey’s eyes carefully, but they betrayed not a flicker of alarm. Maybe McLeod knew nothing about it after all.