High-Stakes Colton

by Karen Anders

  These feelings were so invasive. When she stepped out to the patio she walked past the pool to where Mrs. Morely was serving up eggs, bacon, ham and assorted fruit. She sat down thinking if she ate something it would go away.

  She suspected the headache was caused by stress, worrying about Zorro hurting someone...and...that run-in with the man she thought had been her dad had rattled her quite a bit. More than she’d initially thought. It brought home to her that she might never see him again.

  Her adopted sister, Piper, took in Alanna’s face, her eyes sharpening.

  “You all right?”

  She’d always gotten along most with Piper. Adopted at seven, she had grown from that timid little daughter of a maid into the beautiful woman she was now.

  Marceline entered the patio and dished up some fruit and sat down across from Piper who said, “Good morning.”

  Marceline gave her a tight smile and started to eat her fruit.

  “Alanna?”

  “I’m fine, Piper. Just a headache.”

  “The way you traipse around in the muck, mire and manure it’s no wonder.” Marceline’s perfectly painted mouth drew into a tight line. “I get a whiff of you at the end of the day and frankly...ewww, Alanna.”

  Piper gave her a rolled-eye glance and Marceline sniffed. “Brownnosing it again, Piper? I’m sure you have to compensate for your...dubious breeding. After all, blood always tells, doesn’t it?” Marceline preached primly, lifting her chin and sniffing.

  “Oh, Marceline, you do go on. Even the same tune gets old after a while,” Piper responded with the same kind of uppity-nosed sniff.

  “I wouldn’t need to beat a dead horse if you really fit in here, Piper. After all, you aren’t a Colton.”

  “And neither are you, Marceline,” Alanna said quietly.

  Her gaze returned to Alanna and she could see the jealousy in her stepsister’s eyes. “You’re just as adopted as Piper is. Although, at least Piper doesn’t rub your nose in it every damn day. Colton blood does run through my veins.” Her voice rose and a sharp stab to her head had her rubbing at her temples.

  “At least my mother married a Colton. We’ll never see eye to eye on breeding, Alanna. I’d say it skipped a generation with you.” She rose and went back into the house, slamming the door.

  Piper gave her a half smile and they bumped fists under the table. “Feel better, Alanna, and have a good day.”

  The clouds on the western horizon were still undercoated with slate gray, while the upper eastern strata were burnished with orange and gold and deep, deep coral. Soft purple wisps trailed out behind those clouds like the wake of a boat, painting the sky with slashes of color. On most mornings like this, she felt that if she could take a deep enough breath, she would be able to absorb all the colors and hues, all the open-sky beauty. But today the magic didn’t work for her, and she turned and started walking down the trail that led to the arena. The long grass along the path was wet with dew and the boughs on the pine trees shed a heavenly fragrance along with beads of water. Alanna noticed a cluster of bluebells near the edge of the barn as she accepted the reins of her horse.

  Somerset trailed behind her as obedient as a well-behaved child. He snorted, but otherwise made no comment until they got closer to the arena. Then Zorro let out a welcoming nicker and Somerset whinnied back.

  Well that was something new.

  She thought about those flowers, a funny feeling unfolding in her chest. So exquisite, so delicate and, for all their fragility, they somehow survived. She wondered if they would survive transplanting. That startling thought made her heart skip a bit, not wanting to consider the reason.

  She’d heard back from Becca and that only reminded her how she’d chased after that man who she’d thought had been Eldridge. She hadn’t said anything to anyone, feeling much too raw.

  The morning was totally off. The first horse she mounted was a two-year-old colt who had the bloodline and look of a champion, but who had a stubborn streak. He bucked when she saddled him, he bucked when she mounted him, and then he refused to follow direction at all. She called it quits and had Tamara shadow with a more obedient horse while she continued to ride him, and she didn’t give up until he finally bent to her will. Even so, it was a fight to the finish, and she was drenched in sweat when she finally got off him. He was lathered up, but he was totally docile until she got off him, then he had the nerve to bite her in the ass. She wanted to punch him.

  The next horse, one who was close to being fully trained, simply sidestepped her attempt to mount and she took a dirt dive, headfirst.

  Swearing under her breath, she pushed herself to her feet and dusted the worst of the dirt off her chaps, wanting to punch him, too. She looked up and found Jake hanging on the side wall, his elbows bracing his wide, muscled chest, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and she could tell by the look on his face that he hadn’t missed one minute of her little horse show. “The saddle is there, right between his shoulder blades, boss lady,” he said, a gleam in his eyes. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen anyone do a perfect ten into the dirt.”

  “Can it, McCord.”

  The glint intensified. “You’ve got dirt on your chin.”

  She gave him a bad-tempered scowl and wiped her face, then snatched her hat off the arena floor. “Keep it up and you’re going to have something on your face. Like maybe my open hand.”

  He grinned and tipped his chin at the horse, who stood quietly beside her. “Want me to give you a leg up?”

  “Yeah? You’d do that for me? Why don’t you come over here and I’ll use my leg to give you a swift kick? Now beat it. I don’t need anything more from the peanut gallery.”

  Resting his chin on his folded arms, he stared at her, his blue eyes twinkling like sapphires. “How about you show me where you got bit and I’ll soothe it for you?”

  “How about I show you some bales that need stacking, cowboy?”

  “In the loft?” He continued to stare at her, a warm sensual gleam appearing in his eyes. Alanna could feel the sexual heat from ten feet away.

  Determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her smile, she stared at him, gave an exasperated sigh and spoke, her tone very dry. “Get your mind out of the gutter, McCord.”

  He grinned in response, his eyes alight with that same sensual glint. “You were the one who brought up making hay...not me.” He chuckled.

  He started walking backward toward the arena doors, his spurs jingling and the view giving her sudden improper thoughts. Damn that sexy walk and damn that gorgeous man.

  He kept his gaze fixed on her. “Where you’re concerned, beautiful, getting my mind anywhere is an impossibility.” Then he smiled that slow, bad boy smile of his. “And, boss lady,” he said, his voice low and husky and loaded with intimacy.

  She could feel the heat of that sultry tone right down to her toes, and her knees felt suddenly weak. “What?”

  His eyes held hers, that same sensual look still there. “Just so you know...” She waited, wondering just what this tease would be all about. He smiled, the laugh lines deepening. “If you’re still all dirty when you’re done here, come see me. I’ll wash yours if you wash mine.”

  All she could do was let out a rush of heated breath as he disappeared out of the arena.

  By late afternoon, the headache was intensifying, and she found she couldn’t concentrate, which wasn’t a good thing around horses as was evidenced every time she came into contact with Jake.

  Taking into account the mood she was in, she didn’t even get on her last two mounts of the day, but left them in the capable hands of Tamara.

  Instead she left the arena looking for Jake. She found him back with Zorro, only this time he was just finished with the lunging. She approached cautiously and Jake didn’t notice her. He was too busy coaxing Zorro.

  She had watched him yesterday and it was amazing what he’d already accomplished with a stallion she believed was a lost cause. Then he set
the horse free and filled the water bucket. Every time after training he’d done that, but Zorro had wheeled and trotted away. But this time, Zorro was watching Jake, his ears pricked forward, his eyes still full of fire, but tempered. Each time Jake talked, Zorro moved toward him, the magic of his voice whispering on the wind, reaching the ears of the stallion and working a miracle.

  He swished the water and his deep, melodic voice said, “I know what you want. Come on, boy. I’ve got your ticket.” His voice was quiet, reassuring, soothing. Zorro stretched out his neck in the direction of the basin that Jake held.

  He took a step, then another as Zorro took a step. More people gathered at the fence and a low murmur mingled with the soft sound of Jake’s voice.

  “Come on, pretty boy, strong boy, you independent son of a gun.”

  Another step. Then two more, as if his fear and his dominance weren’t needed there. As if he started to realize Jake was safe, a leader. She urged him on and that sign was on everyone’s face as they silently encouraged the horse toward Jake.

  It was a step toward building trust.

  The stallion took another step toward the bucket, and Jake tipped it toward him, letting him see inside, talking to him, coaxing him forward. He pricked his ears, smelling the water, and they all waited with bated breath, urging him to take that final step. Jake crouched and scooped up water in both hands, his voice filled with confidence.

  After an agony of waiting, Zorro snorted, dipped down and took a quick drink, then jerked his head up and shied back. Jake scooped up more water and extended his hands and kept talking to him. It took another bout of coaxing in soft tones, and Alanna had almost given up hope. Then the stallion took that critical step forward, dropped his head and drank from Jake’s outstretched hands, then deeply from the basin.

  Alanna’s throat closed up completely, and her jaw ached. It was so wrenching to watch, the bridging of all the hours of work he’d done to get Zorro to drink water out of his hands. She expected Zorro to wheel away as soon as he drank his fill, but he didn’t. Continuing to talk to him, Jake very slowly lowered the empty basin and reached out his free hand. Alanna tensed, expecting the horse to bolt, but the stallion tossed his head and took a single step backward. Jake kept crooning to him and took a step toward him, his hand outstretched. The horse watched, his ears flicking at the soft sound of Jake’s deep voice.

  Then it happened as a reaction shivered down her spine. Zorro closed the scant space between them, and Jake slid his hand up the side of his face and over his neck.

  Suddenly blinded by feelings she couldn’t even face, Alanna soundlessly backed away from the fence and walked briskly away.

  It was as if Jake had reached inside her and touched something that was raw and tender and hurting. Something she was having a hard time dealing with.

  She headed back to the arena and started tidying up. Tamara tried to help, but Alanna insisted she go. When the whole place was empty, Alanna was heading back to the house when her cell phone rang.

  “Miss Colton, this is Sheriff Watkins.” His voice was flat over the line. “Could you come to my office now.” It wasn’t really a question and she knew it. He was just giving her the courtesy of couching it as such.

  Her stomach dropped and she said, softly, unable to tamp down the hope that this had to do with Eldridge. “Of course. Is this about—”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and softened his voice into conciliatory regret. “There’s no news about your father, but this does have to do with him. I’ll see you in thirty minutes.”

  “Make that forty-five,” she said. “I’m just leaving the arena and I need to shower.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Forty-five it is.”

  She wanted to confide in Jake in the worst way, but the thought of it intensified the throbbing in her head and it occurred to her that if he was making progress with Zorro, his job would be done there. He would then leave. What good would it be for her to make a habit of telling him anything?

  Arriving on time to the sheriff’s office, he ushered her to an interrogation room and she settled at the small table.

  He sat down and faced her, his eyes grave. “We haven’t heard from this Jeremy Bellows you claim you had lunch with. In fact, his assistant doesn’t have any record of him having lunch with you on the day in question. How do you explain that?”

  “I wanted discretion. I contacted him directly and asked him to keep it between us until I was ready to propose my plan.”

  “Isn’t that convenient?” he said, staring at her without any inflection in his voice.

  She stiffened and leaned her elbows on the table. “It’s the truth.”

  “We questioned the patrons of Meddlesome Butterfly and all we could get was more corroboration that it was your father you were dining with. Why don’t you just own up to your threat, Miss Colton, and save both of us this charade?”

  “I didn’t threaten my father. I had lunch with a dealer to buy a string of barrel racers because I’m planning to expand the stables.”

  “Did your father know about these plans?”

  “No. He did not.”

  He leaned forward, his tone menacing. “Did you harm your father?”

  “No!” she snapped, then sucked in a breath, her headache almost blinding. “I would never hurt him. I had nothing to do with his disappearance. I don’t know why you haven’t heard from Mr. Bellows, but I can’t tell you any other information because I don’t have it. That witness is mistaken or she’s lying.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t believe that’s my job to find out, Sheriff. I think it’s yours. I’m leaving now unless you’re going to arrest me.”

  “No, not at this time.”

  She got up from the table and said, “The next time you drag me in here and accuse me of threatening my father, I can assure you I will consider that harassment. I will be bringing my lawyer.”

  By the time she made it home, her head was thick and throbbing. She closed the door behind her as she entered the foyer. “Miss, the family is all assembled for dinner.”

  “Tell them I’m not well and am lying down, would you please, Mr. Manfred?”

  Their aging butler gave her a smile and nodded. “Very good, miss. I will let them know.”

  She made her way to the left wing and her room. Rolling her shoulders to ease the tension, she stripped down to her panties, donned a stretchy pink tank top and climbed into bed.

  The next thing she knew, someone was pulling the comforter up around her and she worked at clearing the gray tendrils from her mind. Feeling as if she was wading through quicksand, she turned over.

  Jake was sitting on the bed beside her, his hand on her shoulder, gazing down at her. “Hey there, darlin’,” he murmured.

  Alanna scooted away from him coming fully awake.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He stood up releasing a heavy sigh and stuck his hands in his back pockets. “Checking on you. Wondering what is going on with you. You came back from town looking all spooked and upset,” he said, his voice very quiet. “I was hoping to see you last night. You can tell me anything, Alanna.”

  “What happened in town is my business,” she said, unable to get the memory of the way he’d coaxed Zorro just this past afternoon out of her mind. She wasn’t a horse he could tame.

  He turned and stared out the window. “I see.”

  When she made no response, he turned, staring at her. She sat with her legs drawn up, her arms locked around them, her forehead resting on her knees. He watched her a moment, then spoke, his voice still quiet.

  “How about we get this out in the open,” he said.

  “Don’t push me, Jake, I’m not in the mood.”

  “Someone needs to push you, Alanna. You can’t hide for the rest of your—”

  “I don’t respect what you do. This isn’t going to work for me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

  The lies tumbled out of her mouth and
she wanted to take them back immediately. But she felt so closed off.

  “Okay, Alanna. We’ll leave it at that. Do you want me to leave?”

  It would be so much easier for her if he would, but she couldn’t bring herself to deny him his livelihood and something so basic in her rebelled at him going anywhere. “No. Stay until you finish the job.”

  “Right. The one you don’t respect. See you around, Alanna.”

  She closed her eyes as she heard his footsteps retreat. Then she lay back down, a hole so black and empty opening up in her.

  Chapter 13

  Jake stood at the foot of the bed with his suitcase open two days later. He’d tried to go about his business like Alanna hadn’t shoved a lie in his face to get distance. Didn’t she know all she had to do was ask him to back off?

  His throat thick, he went to the dresser. This assignment was over. Without Alanna’s trust, there was no way to get close to any information from her or the family. He might as well get the hell out of there and stop torturing himself with something that was never going to happen anyway. He’d call his boss and let him know.

  He was fooling himself.

  He didn’t feel good leaving Zorro’s training unfinished. He’d been able to garner the horse’s trust, but he still needed to work with him some more. But that was now a moot point. Fowler would have to find someone else to handle his stallion.

  Just as he got everything into his case and was zipping it up, his cell rang. “Hello,” he answered.

  “McCord, is that you?” his boss said gruffly.

  “Yes, sir, it’s me.”

  “I owe you an apology.”

  “Why is that?” Jake said, not much caring.

  “Henry Swango. I finally got a report on him. We’ve been shorthanded, and, well, he’s one seriously bad hombre.”

  Suddenly all Jake’s energy focused into a ball of dread in his gut. “What are you saying?”

  “Henry is suspected of several murders in Dallas. He is a drug distributor and according to the local cops, he’s apparently laying low after a brutal murder. Unfortunately, they have nothing on him to hold him.”