Undercover Cowboy

by Beverly Bird

  He left the window and came toward her, fast and aggressively. Carly took an instinctive, wary step backward, and she thought she saw him wince.

  “Look, I’m telling you as much as I can, without endangering you or me or anyone else. You’ve got to know that.” You’ve got to believe it.

  He didn’t know why it should be so important. She was just one cog in a great big wheel, he reminded himself, and the wheel was—hopefully—making its final turn here. She was a pawn. It shouldn’t matter what she believed. This would be over soon, and with any luck, both she and Scorpion would be memories. It shouldn’t matter what she believed, but it did.

  “So what happens if I refuse?” Carly asked.

  “Nothing. Not immediately. But I can pretty much guarantee you that some other calamity will befall your house or your land or your herd sometime during the next twenty-four hours.”

  Carly stiffened. “Is that a threat? Because—”

  “No!” he snapped, suddenly frustrated and angry. “I’m just telling you the way it is here. And if something else happens, then I’m going to have to explain it to some pretty powerful men in Washington. I’m going to have to tell them what the hell I was still doing at Seventy Four Draw under the circumstances, allowing it to happen. I’d be hardpressed to keep your name out of it. They know me too well to believe I’d simply drop the ball on something like this.” Because none of them, he thought, none of them was as wary of his lost nerve as he had become.

  “So what happens when these powerful men get ticked off at me?”

  “You’re obstructing justice, Carly.”

  She spun away from him. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered yet again.

  Not many people in her position would, he thought. He watched her grapple with it once more, stretching her mind to accept that the unimaginable was really happening to her. And she didn’t even know the half of it, he thought.

  She let out a long breath but she wouldn’t look at him. “I can’t leave until my men get the herd together,” she muttered.

  “So go tell them to do it.”

  “The steers are all penned together, but the cows…the cows I want to take are scattered all over the ranch. It’ll take time to find them all. They’re tagged, but—”

  “Carly—”

  She went on desperately, as though trying to restore order to her world, as though trying to make all the little things matter again. “And there’s the cook wagon, of course,” she rushed on. “I can’t leave until Theresa and I pack it.”

  “You’re babbling, Carly.”

  She ignored him. “And I definitely can’t leave until I put you folks on horses for another six hours. That’s part of my brother’s agreement with the insurance company. I have to give twenty hours of instruction before I can take any of you anywhere.”

  Ah, Jack thought. That explained why she had been working them so relentlessly, with barely a break. He wished she had told him sooner. His backside might not feel quite so much like a piece of plywood right now.

  “If anyone gets hurt,” he said quietly, “the government will take care of it. Uncle Sam’s your insurance company now. He’ll cover any losses you incur.”

  Carly’s eyes narrowed and her expression twisted. “Why aren’t I comforted?” Because, she thought, she no longer trusted her government worth a hill of beans. Especially not now.

  This was what those precious, scraped-together tax dollars were going toward, she thought wildly, and fought the urge to laugh. She knew it would be a wild, hysterical sound.

  “What am I supposed to tell everyone?” she managed finally. “Don’t you think they’re going to wonder why I’m bolting out of here a day early?”

  Scorpion certainly would, Jack thought. He considered the problem.

  “Tell them you’ve heard some bad weather is heading our way over the weekend,” he said finally.

  “And how exactly was I supposed to hear this without a generator, with no electricity or radio or television?”

  One of Jack’s brows went up. He thought that if she ever got tired of ranching, he’d have a job for her in Washington.

  “You heard it before the generator went out.”

  She looked at him incredulously. “And I’m just mentioning it now?”

  He got exasperated. “Damn it, it’s the only thing I can think of. Tell them you want to be up in the Kansas flatlands before the storm hits.”

  “I guess that makes sense,” she admitted grudgingly. As much as anything did right now, at any rate.

  “So are you going to do this gracefully, or do I have to start pulling strings?”

  “Go ahead and pull. Like you said, by tomorrow I’ll be ready to leave anyway.”

  Jack’s eyes widened. Comparatively speaking, she was starting to make his stubborn old horse look like a pushover.

  “For God’s sake, Carly!” he exploded. “Will you please use your head here? What’s so bad about leaving today? What’s the big deal?”

  The big deal, she thought, was the principle of the thing. She felt as though if she did this, if she went along with him, then everything was going to spiral right out of her control. And that terrified her. Because she had always been in control. Always. Until Jack Fain had walked into her life. Briefly, with an inward cringe, she remembered what she had been fully prepared to do with him last night.

  Well, he had been right about one thing—he was going to be gone in a week, this would all be over, and she would still have a ranch to sustain and the IRS to contend with. She had to keep her grip on things. She had the weird suspicion that if she didn’t, she might never remember how to handle things on her own again.

  “The sooner you get your herd into Fort Dodge the sooner you get paid for it, right?” Jack tried.

  “Wrong,” she snapped. “They’re going to auction. And the auction is Wednesday night. I could be there right now, but I still wouldn’t get paid for them until Thursday.” Except, she thought, if she left this morning, that was one less day that Theresa would have to dance around the electricity problem.

  “I’d think you’d want to give yourself plenty of time on this ride,” Jack said evenly, “just to be on the safe side, what with the tourists and all. What if you don’t get there in time for the auction?”

  Then we’re bankrupt. “Oh, hell,” she groaned, giving up. “Why not? How much worse can this get?”

  He thought it was probably better not to tell her that. “Is that a yes?” he asked cautiously.

  “It’s a sort of,” she grumbled. “I’ll still need at least…probably four hours.” She started for the door again.

  “Where are you going now?” he demanded.

  Carly spun back to him. “To take one last, real shower,” she snapped. “You might consider it, too. Do I have your permission, or do you want to stand guard over me in the bathroom, too? Just what is it that you think I’m going to do if you let me out of your sight?”

  Not you, cowgirl, your hubby. He didn’t answer.

  Carly jerked the door open and went up the stairs two at a time. When she got her hands on Michael, she thought, this I-told-you-so was going to be a humdinger. She had been opposed to this tourist business from the start, if only because all the work of it would fall on her shoulders. Now she fully intended that her brother was going to be hearing about this until the cows came home.

  Assuming she was ever allowed to tell him.

  Three hours later, Carly came downstairs into the kitchen and let her duffel bag slide off her shoulder to the floor. Her sister was at the sink, finishing the last of the breakfast dishes, and she was clearly upset.

  “I still don’t understand why you’re doing this,” Theresa protested. Her hands moved faster. Splash, swipe, rinse.

  “I’ve told you. There’s a storm coming. Why take chances?”

  “But you are taking chances!” Theresa cried, spinning about to face her. “What about that insurance?”

  Carly knew she was talking abo
ut the policy on the guests now, not the one on the house. “I’m just taking the safest of two gambles,” she answered. “I’d rather run the risk that no one falls off their horse than gamble that we won’t run head-on into a twister if we leave too late. Everyone’s riding pretty well. The storm’s more of a sure bet.”

  Carly went to the refrigerator to get a last glass of orange juice. She drank deeply, her stomach heaving hollowly as the juice hit it. She hadn’t been able to eat breakfast.

  Damn you, Jack. She hated lying to her own sister.

  She slid the empty glass into the suds in the sink just as footsteps came thumping down the back stairs. Carly looked that way and her heart skipped a beat. Holly lugged her tent through the door and deposited it on the kitchen floor.

  “Does this mean you’re going with us?” Carly asked, almost afraid to hope. She had finally decided not to force her, since Theresa would be staying behind now. But there had been a vague, almost imperceptible change in Holly lately.

  Lately…since Jack Fain had turned up on the scene. Carly’s heart thumped again.

  She knew she had to tell her, here and now, right away, that nothing was or ever would be happening in that arena. Especially not now. Not after last night. And she couldn’t do it, she realized helplessly, couldn’t bring herself to shatter Holly’s new enthusiasm and warmth. She wanted her to go with them too badly.

  Later, she thought, when we’re on the trail, I’ll tell her the truth. I’ll do it when my thoughts aren’t so scattered and I can break it to her gently. At least, she thought, she would tell her as much as Jack would let her.

  “I’m really glad you changed your mind,” she said softly, aloud.

  Holly grinned and began dragging her tent to the door. “Well, maybe it’ll be worth it.”

  Carly followed her. She considered eliminating the extra weight of a tent that they wouldn’t really need. Holly could sleep in hers. Then she fought off the urge to strip her of that little bit of independence.

  Let her grow up. She was going with them. That was enough.

  “You can go ahead and put that in the cook wagon,” she called out after her. “All the supplies are already loaded.”

  “Okay.”

  There were more footsteps on the back stairs. Carly went to that door and pulled it open, looking up. It was Jack.

  “We have a problem,” he said shortly, stepping into the kitchen, looking pointedly at Theresa’s back.

  Carly glanced that way, too, but she was not about to make this any easier for him. “What might that be?” she asked sweetly, staying where she was.

  Jack glowered and spoke in an undertone. “Holly thinks she’s going with us.”

  “She is.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  He glared at Theresa again. Carly looked that way, too. Her sister was watching them avidly now, still washing dishes but looking their way without apology, straining to overhear their conversation.

  Carly heard a noise behind her and realized that Holly had come back into the kitchen as well.

  Something, a pulse or a nerve, ticked dangerously at Jack’s jaw. He grabbed her elbow and propelled her into the hallway.

  “Easy, cowboy.” Carly wrenched away from him. His fingers had been digging into her just a little bit more than she thought the situation warranted. He was certainly tense. And she was still angry enough not to give him an inch.

  “You’re hell-bent and determined not to help this come off smoothly, aren’t you?” he snarled.

  Carly crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s right.”

  “Why can’t you just cooperate?”

  “I am,” she snapped, “more than I care to. I said I’d go today. I didn’t say I liked it.”

  He put his face close to hers. “I don’t give a damn whether you like it or not. I’m trying to keep people alive here. Don’t you get that yet? And now one of those people is your daughter. I don’t want to have to worry about a kid on top of everything else!” It struck him then that whether he wanted to be involved in their lives or not, he wouldn’t be able to stand it if anything happened to wipe last night’s smile off the kid’s face, if something ever stopped her from imitating her mother just so.

  Carly blanched. “I want her to go,” she said stubbornly. “I…we need this time together.”

  “She can’t go.”

  “Why not?”

  “Come on, cowgirl, think about it. Use your head.”

  “Use my head?” she cried. “Just what would you like me to think about, Jack? I don’t have any idea what’s going on here! What kind of danger are we in? Tell me that, and I’ll make up my own mind what’s best for Holly, what’s best for all of us.”

  “Would you keep your voice down?” He had been crazy, out of his mind, to trust her. She might be honest, she might be true-blue, but when she got a bee in her bonnet, she was uncontrollable, he thought angrily. And there was just no room in this mess for a wild card.

  “She could get hurt,” he bit out.

  “How? By who?”

  “I can’t tell you that.”

  The hallway seemed to fade and shift around her. Something cold replaced her blood. What he hadn’t said was clear as a bell. The danger was someone on her ride.

  Brad, she thought again. It had to be Brad, with all his price tags, even on his underwear, and those weird smiles.

  “Then maybe we all ought to stay right here at Seventy Four Draw where we’re safe,” she said shakily.

  “We’re not safe here, either,” Jack grated. “And I don’t want a kid involved. I want her left behind, separate and safe and apart from all this. You’ve got to stop fighting me and trust me, cowgirl.”

  Carly watched him, a headache starting behind her eyes. “I don’t suppose it’s occurred to you that you haven’t given me anything worth putting my trust in?”

  “Yes,” he answered, surprising both of them. “It has. All I can tell you is that I’m trying my damnedest to keep you and your family safe.”

  “I want Holly to be with me. Given…given what’s happening here, whatever it is, I just want her to be where I can see her. And…we need this trip together, Jack. You don’t…you just can’t understand.” And there was no way she could tell him how she so desperately needed to start mending some of the personal fences that the ranch had torn down on her.

  He was going to have to work around this, Jack realized with a sinking feeling. She wasn’t going to relent. And he was afraid that if he forced her, he’d lose her cooperation entirely.

  “Okay. All right,” he said finally. He took a deep, steadying breath. He didn’t like it. He hated it. But, once again, she was pretty much leaving him no choice.

  “Did you tell everyone about the storm?” he asked shortly, finally.

  Carly relaxed a little, too, knowing a victory when she saw it. But she still eyed him warily. “Yes. Theresa doesn’t believe me. If I’d heard something about a storm, she knows I would have mentioned it right away. But I think she thinks I’m just frantic enough about money to want to play it completely safe.”

  “Good.” He started to move into the kitchen again, then he paused to say something that had never had a place in any of his jobs before. Not with a pawn.

  “Thanks.”

  Chapter 9

  It took them more than five hours to leave, but by noon the house and the outbuildings of Seventy Four Draw were nothing more than a smudge on the horizon behind them. Scorpion rode just behind the cattle, and Jack hung back even farther. He could feel the assassin’s awareness of him now, reaching for him like invisible tentacles. Jack figured that as far as Scorpion was concerned, there had been two very unpleasant developments of late. His lady was apparently taking up with one of the guests, and she had suddenly decided to set off a day early.

  Either occurrence would have been a small problem in and of itself. Together they were a clear indication that something was off-kilter. Jack wasn’t alarmed. It was
time to stir things up a little. He wanted Scorpion to become agitated. Now that they were finally off the ranch, he wanted him to leave.

  Without Carly.

  Jack’s gaze slid to her. She was engrossed in moving the cattle. She was everywhere, first riding wide to bring back a stray, then leaning low off the side of her saddle to check the bell on the lead cow. He enjoyed watching her. She was competent, and she was in her element. She moved with the horse as though it were an extension of her own body, fluidly, easily. It was like watching a dance.

  Her eyes moved steadily and relentlessly between the animals and the guests and the cowboys, then back again. When she finally seemed to settle down, Jack rode to join her.

  “Aren’t we heading east?” The sun was high above them now, but it had come from the horizon ahead.

  Carly shot him a narrow look. She was still mad, he realized.

  “So you can tell direction. Did they teach you that in spy school?”

  His lips quirked. “Well, they pay me to be observant.”

  “Who?”

  Jack let himself smile fully. “And being so observant,” he went on without answering, “I would have to say that we’re not riding north into Kansas at the moment. Are you trying to pull a fast one, cowgirl?”

  “Thank you so much for your confidence.” Carly looked ahead, her jaw tightening. “Nate Progress’s place is north of my ranch,” she said finally. “And Nate and my father didn’t get along worth a hill of beans. If I tried to cross his land, he’d probably demand half my herd for a tariff. On the other hand, I have a friendly arrangement with my nearest neighbor to the east. I lease a small portion of his spread every summer so that I can graze and camp there on my way to auction. So we’ll loop around to the east and stop on Rawley’s acres tonight, then we can head straight north across BLM land from there.”

  “BLM?” Jack repeated. “Bureau of Land Management?”

  “Yeah. You know, one of those government things.”

  Jack gave a bark of laughter. “Touché, cowgirl.”

  She didn’t hear him, or pretended not to. She spurred her horse and went deliberately to ride with Plank.