Undercover Cowboy

by Beverly Bird

  “Sure,” she said finally, bemusedly. “Come on. You can keep an eye on this calf here. He’s a little small to be handling this. You know what to do if he starts getting swept away.”

  “Swept away?” Leigh bleated.

  Holly rode forward to join her. The first cattle had reached the bottom of the bank and they bawled and churned there. Jack watched them with a feeling of misgiving. He found himself trying to figure out just how many pounds of beef were down there, crashing into one another, trying to get back up the bank while three hundred more steers crowded in behind them.

  “Okay,” Carly called out. “Let’s do it!”

  Let’s not, Jack thought dourly.

  Then he glanced at Scorpion. The man’s face was almost literally white now. Perfect, Jack thought. He wouldn’t bolt now—there was no way he could get to his money—but there was no way he’d risk this again at the Cimarron, either.

  The first cattle entered the water. Carly was halfway across now, standing up in her stirrups despite the efforts of the water to disengage her from her horse. Jack was impressed. He imagined that that was pretty hard to do. Then again, she had quite a pair of legs on her. He already knew that when they decided they were going to wrap themselves around something, they didn’t budge.

  He grinned to himself, then, impossibly, he wanted her again—then, there, immediately. His body reacted with a surge of readiness and heat. He dragged his eyes away from her.

  Josh and Gofer and Plank had taken up positions behind her and on either side of the herd. Rawley rode complacently in the back. Apparently this wasn’t going to be a problem for him, either. In spite of himself, Jack felt his gaze going back to Carly. She was grinning, but then he saw her expression falter.

  Something was wrong.

  Instinctively, his eyes went back to Scorpion. No trouble there, not yet. The man was too scared to make any move at the moment. Jack looked back at the water. Carly’s horse was struggling a little now. She’d sat down again because the animal’s hind end kept getting swept around.

  Finally, Jack understood what was wrong. The current had to be stronger than she had anticipated. He watched her for some signal that she would stop the guests from trying to cross, but she never looked up. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration as the herd started drifting too, and she and the cowboys fought to hold them.

  Only Jack remained on high ground. Leigh was already in the water and Myra had waded in close behind her. The men were right on their tails.

  Jack threw a last look at Carly, then another at the wagon just now entering the river. He didn’t want to let that out of his sight, so it was now or never. He gave a heartfelt sigh and urged his horse into the water with the others.

  He gritted his teeth at the cold shock. The tide swept him and his horse sideways. A cow bobbed past him, lowing in panic.

  Carly was beginning to feel a little panic of her own.

  She hauled on her left rein and thumped her right leg against her mare, trying to keep her swimming into the current. She had to block the steers that were drifting. How could the water be this strong? She had tested it before bringing the cows in and it hadn’t pulled at her this fiercely. Except maybe she hadn’t been paying enough attention. Maybe half her thoughts had really been on where Jack would go after Dodge—if he even made it to Dodge—and maybe the other half of them had been on Scorpion, and why Jack seemed to think he wouldn’t cross two rivers.

  Either way, it was too late now. One by one, the cattle were tugged past her, some bumping into her mare, others merely bobbing by. A moan of dismay caught at her throat. It was drowned out by a screaming, metallic sound.

  The wagon.

  She looked that way helplessly. It overturned, spilling out poor Mazie. The horses that had been pulling it were struggling on toward the opposite shore. The hitch had snapped, but at least the animals were free of the encumbrance. Their harnesses and reins trailed wildly behind them in the current.

  Brad looked apoplectic.

  Jack looked ecstatic.

  The wagon surged wildly past her. It got lodged against the far bank in a snarl of bared tree roots, but even as she watched, it was tugged loose again and went dancing wildly down the river.

  Carly finally gave up on the cattle. She leaned over her mare’s neck, urging her on, and finally she felt the animal’s straining rhythm change to a jarring gait as her hooves found purchase in the river sand on the far bank. The mare heaved herself up onto solid ground, and Carly slid from her back even before the horse stopped to tremble and shake off water.

  One by one, the others struggled to the shore. Holly came triumphantly with her calf in tow. She had roped it. Carly hugged her shakily. Brad—Scorpion, she thought wildly—had made it, and she stepped back quickly, instinctively, dragging Holly with her, to give him a wide berth as he came ashore. Jack-was right behind him, and when he noticed her reflex, he gave a little shake of his head.

  Don’t react, she remembered. Oh, God, how could she not?

  Carly took a deep breath and went to help a trembling, stricken Leigh off her horse. Rawley reached dry ground and gave a loud, hooting whistle, exhilarated.

  That was when Carly realized that Brad had disappeared. Cattle streamed up the bank all around them, lowing and confused. She caught her breath and looked around, and saw Brad trotting back toward them from farther down the bank.

  “The wagon’s safe!” he called out. “Just around that bend, the river narrows. It’s sort of stuck in there, between the banks. It can’t go any farther.”

  The damned wagon again!

  Carly felt her legs give out. She sat hard where she stood, her adrenaline draining out of her so suddenly she felt hollow. The cowboys went to try to bring the wagon back, Scorpion tagging along to show them where it was. The cattle would have to be collected again, she thought. At least half the herd had been swept down the river. Those who survived could find hard ground up to a mile from here. She wondered dismally how many she would lose.

  The wagon hitch would have to be repaired, too. Everything inside would have to be sorted through. They would save what could be dried out, and toss what had been rendered useless by the water. She had packed it so that anything perishable would ride high, but the way it had been bobbing and tumbling, she knew that wouldn’t have saved much.

  They would be going no farther today.

  The guests seemed to know it without being told, because they began to gather their soggy gear and set their tents up to dry. Carly felt movement beside her and looked over at a pair of very wet legs. Jack.

  “You okay, cowgirl?” he asked quietly.

  “Right…as rain.” Her voice broke. She was still shaking. At least no one had been hurt.

  Jack sat down. Now she noticed that he was grinning widely.

  “What’s wrong with you?” she cried. “That was nearly a disaster!”

  “I know.” Jack looked up at the sky. “I’m beginning to think there might be a God after all.” He couldn’t have asked for a better crossing if he’d put a request in straight to heaven, what with the wagon breaking and nearly being dashed away. Soon, very soon now, Scorpion was going to have to leave.

  “How far to the Cimarron?” he asked suddenly.

  “About sixty miles,” she answered shakily, getting used to the quick way his mind seemed to change tracks.

  He wished it was less, but it would have to do. “Make sure you mention that within everyone’s hearing,” he directed. “I want him to go to the wagon tonight.”

  Carly stiffened. Her eyes flared. “What in the world is in that wagon?”

  He hesitated again.

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Jack! It’s a little late to be playing games, and I’m warning you—I can’t take much more!”

  She probably couldn’t, he thought, and playing games with her would just stress her out more. He’d asked an awful lot of her so far.

  There was no sense in shielding her from this particular angle. It migh
t even help, he thought. She’d know what Scorpion would have to do to leave—or at least what little he would be able to do, because Jack wasn’t going to let him get near Carly to see to the other loose end he’d have to tie up.

  He hesitated, then went with it. “I told you that something about his latest job tipped me off that he was retiring,” he said finally, quietly.

  Carly nodded tensely.

  “He turned on the people who’d hired him and stole fifteen million dollars from them.”

  Carly’s expression didn’t change. “And you think he’s got it with him?”

  “I know he does.”

  Her expression finally changed. Her eyes widened slowly, understanding dawning there. “In my wagon?”

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “There’s fifteen million dollars hidden in my wagon?” she demanded in a whispery screech.

  He looked at her warily. “More or less. Could be fourteen, could be sixteen.”

  “Where?” she demanded, her heart slamming. “That’s impossible. I packed it myself! I didn’t see—”

  “Underneath,” Jack said. “False bottom.”

  Her jaw dropped. “How’d he do that? When?”

  “I have no idea, but it’s there.”

  “I got into this mess for a few thousand, and I end up carting around fifteen million?” Her mind was staggering, stumbling, reeling. She couldn’t imagine that much money. “In cash?” She couldn’t comprehend it being essentially in her possession.

  “Yeah,” Jack said reluctantly.

  Suddenly she shoved at him. “Four days ago, I had cows. I had tourists. I had a tax problem. And then you came along and…” Her throat closed. She choked. “Take it all and go away, Jack. Take your money and your killer and just…go… just leave me alone!”

  She tried to shoot to her feet and couldn’t quite manage it because the bank was slippery. He caught her and pulled her down again. She landed with a small gasp. He had known that it was bound to happen sooner or later, that the shock and the disbelief of all this would wear off, and when it did, emotion would set in. But he wasn’t ready for it now, because what she’d just said made guilt come alive inside him all over again.

  He tried to tell himself that if he hadn’t taken on this last chase, then Paul Manning would just have sent someone else. That this was Scorpion’s fault, Brett’s fault, whoever the man was in his own mind. He had come here, leading the agency behind him.

  Still, another agent wouldn’t necessarily have made love with Carly Castagne. Maybe another man wouldn’t have gotten…involved.

  He was involved. It was a shock with reverberations that shimmied clear down to his toes. It was the first time in a very long time, probably since Zoe. It left him itchy and warm, panicked and wild and amazed. It kept his breath short.

  Carly straightened and dragged a hand over her cheek. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a tear shining there.

  “Well,” she said finally, taking a deep breath. “I guess that explains why you don’t think he’ll be eager to cross the Cimarron.”

  “Right.” He hesitated. His voice was hoarse. “It’s also why you’ve got to keep everyone away from that wagon. He’s going to have to make contact with it before he moves on.”

  Carly pressed her fingers to her temples. “I still don’t understand this,” she murmured. “Why Oklahoma?”

  Jack waved a careful hand around at all the nothingness of the land. “What better place to disappear into thin air?”

  “Wyoming and someone else’s dude ride would have done just as nicely,” she snapped.

  Jack got to his feet and pulled her up with him. This next part was going to be tricky, he thought.

  “I need you to stay in your tent tonight,” he said finally. “You can’t sleep outside.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “Inside with you.”

  He watched her feet hesitate, then move again. “Why?” she asked with decisive care.

  It was a reasonable question, he thought. “Because.”

  She looked at him. “Because of Scorpion?”

  He didn’t answer. Something in her belly shifted. There was more, she realized. He still hadn’t told her everything yet.

  “I just want to know that you’re safe until he takes off,” he went on finally. “And that could very well happen tonight if you let it out that we’ll hit the Cimarron tomorrow.”

  “We won’t! It’ll probably be early on Sunday morning.”

  “He doesn’t need to know that.”

  Carly shook her head. He would stay in her tent, then. Something squeezed inside her. She blew out her breath. “Holly’s just about going to love this.”

  “Speaking of Holly, I want to put her tent right behind ours, sort of bracketed between us and Rawley.” Rawley was the closest thing to backup he could manage, Jack realized. Maybe it was a good thing Carly had brought him along after all.

  Carly’s face leached of color again. “Is Holly in some specific danger?”

  Not unless Scorpion takes a good look at her. So far, he was still pretty much ignoring the kid—and Jack had been watching closely for any signs that he wasn’t. The assassin seemed to be going to inordinate lengths to keep a distance from Carly as well, at least after that first day when flirting with her had failed. His reserve had surprised Jack, but then he’d understood. If the bastard wasn’t going to be able to sweep her off her feet a second time, then he would have to tell her who he was. And that would bring an explosive reaction, enough of one that he probably didn’t want to risk it until this charade was nearly over and he was ready to go. By the same token, he wouldn’t want her to recognize him before then, either.

  “I don’t think so,” he said finally, slowly, in answer to her question. “It’s just a precaution. Until—”

  “Until he takes the damned money and leaves,” Carly finished for him bitterly. “And then you’re going to take off after him.” In spite of herself, no matter that she’d told herself she could handle it, she wondered if that would be the last she’d ever see of Jack Fain, and her heart hurt.

  They had almost reached the others. The cowboys had managed to haul the wagon back. Scorpion was with them, hovering over them, watching the repairs.

  “Start complaining about how you’ve lost half a day,” Jack said abruptly. “We need a first-class Carly-style foul temper here because you’re behind schedule. I want him to think that’s all we were discussing.”

  Carly thought again of fifteen million dollars in her poor, old wagon.

  “A foul temper,” she muttered, “is something I ought to be able to manage just fine right about now.”

  They got through dinner without trouble. If the others felt the undercurrents of tension, if it occurred to any of them that Brad seemed unusually quiet, they didn’t comment on it. Carly figured that Myra and Rawley, Leigh and Gofer, were just absorbed enough in each other not to notice. And Leigh, at least, was getting on Carly’s nerves.

  Jack was sprawled by the fire on his side, his head propped on one hand near her thigh. She leaned over to whisper to him.

  “Look at her.”

  “Who?”

  “Leigh.”

  “What’s the matter with her?”

  “I can’t believe the way she’s falling all over that poor cowboy!”

  Jack looked. Poor cowboy? Gofer definitely did not look distressed.

  “It’s her vacation, cowgirl. Let her be.”

  Still, Carly scowled. “I’d just rather that she vacation in her tent where we wouldn’t have to watch this.”

  “No doubt she’ll do it there, too. Look, it’s a natural reaction,” he said finally. “That was a real scary ride this afternoon. Leigh looked her own mortality right in the eye, and now she’s grabbing onto life with a gusto.”

  Carly fell quiet again. “Did you ever do that?” she asked after a while. “Look your own mortality in the eye?”

  “Many times.” Unconscious
ly, he touched his newest scar.

  “Did you…did you react like that, like she is?”

  Jack hesitated. There was no sense in lying to her. He wondered why it had even occurred to him. “Sometimes.”

  Carly ran her tongue along her lower lip. He noticed that she wouldn’t look at him.

  “Did that have anything to do with what happened between us last night?” She knew that it had, a little bit, at least on her part. She had definitely thought about him dying.

  She would have done what she did anyway, she realized. The only thing was, she might not have done it so spontaneously, so soon. Then again, with Jack Fain, she got the strong impression she didn’t have a whole lot of time, with or without his Scorpion.

  Jack fought a smile. This time he didn’t falter, didn’t need to think about it. “No. My mortality was nowhere in evidence last night.”

  “Yet. I guess you’ve got to be thinking about it.”

  Jack shrugged. “Knowing it’s out there somewhere around one of the next bends isn’t enough to get that kind of rise out of me anymore.”

  “So to speak.”

  He grinned fast. “Last night was all you, cowgirl.”

  She was appalled and frightened at how pleased she was. She got to her feet and called out to the others.

  “Instead of tiptoeing around camp tonight—” she looked pointedly at Myra and Leigh “—I think we should all try to get some sleep. I want to leave extra early tomorrow to make up for some of this lost time.”

  There were a few mild grumbles but most of them looked done in by the events of the afternoon. And they didn’t even know the half of it, Carly thought. Plank was already asleep, flat on his back, with his head propped on his saddle. His hands were clasped together at his waist, and one of the cowboys had stuck a wild river flower in there.

  “Uh, what about him?” Reggie asked. “Shouldn’t we try to get him to his tent?”

  “He’s slept in odder places,” Carly murmured.

  “Yeah,” Holly joined in. “Remember that trip when he got drunk and fell off into the river, and you got mad, Mom, and just left him there and drove on? And he slept there, right in the water, and caught up with us the next day.”