by Cheryl Biggs
About two feet before he made it, Samson took an unusual step forward, the rope slackened, and the calf jumped to its feet and tried to dart away.
Shane turned and as he stared at Samson in disbelief and his mouth dropped agape, the pigging rope he held between his teeth fell to the ground and a big, fat zero went up on the scoreboard. With a snort of disgust he scooped the pigging rope up from the ground, released the calf, and grabbed Samson’s reins. “I don’t believe you did that,” he mumbled to the horse as they walked from the arena. “I just don’t believe it.”
Samson snorted and shook his head.
Nothing, absolutely nothing good had come out of this trip. In fact, it had been a total disaster. He should have bypassed Reno like he’d wanted to. So what if he’d lost the title? He could have gone after it again next year. A string of curses danced through his thoughts. Next time Cody and Dee tried to talk him into something, he just wasn’t going to listen, no matter what it was.
“You didn’t really do that?”
Shane stopped instantly at recognizing Kate’s voice and thinking for a moment she was talking to him, or Samson.
“Hell, yes, I did,” Tim said.
They both laughed.
“And you should have seen it, Kate.” Looking around, as if not wanting anyone to overhear, Tim placed his hands on Kate’s shoulders, leaned forward intimately, and whispered something in her ear.
She pulled back. “Tim,” she said, with mock severity. “You’re absolutely terrible.”
He smiled wickedly. “I know.”
They both laughed again.
Fury, white-hot and blinding, rushed through Shane, but he struggled against it They were just talking. He was being ridiculous, and with no reason. There was nothing between him and Kate anymore.
He remembered the way she’d looked up at him when they’d danced together at the party...the way her lips had felt touching his...the way her tongue had dueled with his, while her arms had held him close. Physical, he told himself. A physical reaction stirred by memories, and maybe a little leftover attraction. That was all there was between them now.
Suddenly he felt like a peeping Tom, watching them surreptitiously from the shadows. Shaking himself, Shane started to walk toward them.
Tim shook his head at something Kate had said, then leaned over and brushed his lips across her cheek.
Shane stopped instantly.
Kate smiled up at Tim, and said something Shane couldn’t hear.
A soft guttural growl moved through his throat as a searing stab of jealousy ripped through his body. He couldn’t deny his feelings for her any longer, not when hot shards of jealousy kept trying to rip him up inside every five minutes. But he wasn’t going to stick around and see his feelings for her thrown in his face again. He’d had it. Coming back here was one of the worst things he’d ever done. “Well, there’s a quick way to correct the situation,” he muttered to himself.
Turning away, he stalked past the grandstand and headed for Samson’s stall. For the past two years he’d stayed away from Reno, making his points elsewhere, and he would have stayed away this year too, if he hadn’t blown it in Mesquite, and then listened to Cody and Dee. Shane did a quick calculation in his head. The way he figured it, he had just enough points and bucks accumulated now, along with what he’d rack up at the Cow Palace and several other circuit events in the next few months, to qualify for the world championships in Vegas in December, even if he didn’t finish out Reno. He stalked past several people, ignoring their greetings. He’d never quit anything in his entire life, but he was quitting this.
He would hop a flight down to Colorado and go back to the ranch. Cody could hire someone to transport Shane’s truck and trailer, and he’d meet up with Cody and Dee somewhere on the circuit later, maybe in Colorado Springs, or Salinas.
Skip Magruder nodded to him as he passed the Snack Shack, and Dee, standing beside the older man, called out.
Shane waved them off and kept walking.
At the gate of Samson’s stall he stopped. A string of pithy oaths ripped from his lips as he stared inside. Somebody had poured water all over the pine shavings that covered the floor, then sprinkled it with grain. A few gulps of that combination and a horse would be down, maybe permanently, if he didn’t break a leg trying to walk on it first. This was too damned much. He felt murder in his veins.
Looping Samson’s reins over the gate, Shane looked into Kate’s stall. Her horse was gone, but the floor was the same as his. Several adjacent ones proved to have been treated to the same sabotage. His insides tightened with rage. If he got his hands on whoever was doing this he’d string him up and leave him for the buzzards.
Half an hour later Shane had the muck cleaned out of his stall, and Samson brushed down and fed. He thought about cleaning Kate’s stall too, then said the hell with it. Let the new man in her life do it. An image of Tim’s face flashed into Shane’s mind. He cursed, locked Samson’s gate, and walked back toward the arena, figuring Cody was most likely still in the pen area. He’d let him know he was heading back to the ranch, then he’d inform Hodges about the latest attack, and be on his way.
The arena manager wasn’t going to like his pulling out of the competition, and Dee and Cody were going to put up a fuss, but Shane didn’t care. Taking a plane home now however, was out. After this latest incident, he had no intention of leaving Samson behind, but he was leaving. Cody could haul the trailer and transport his horse with Dee’s.
Suddenly a collective gasp came from the arena audience and echoed through the air.
Shane’s heart missed a beat at the sound of what he knew could only mean trouble. All thoughts of leaving vanished immediately. He started running, praying it wasn’t Cody or Dee in the arena.
“Looks like her cinch has broken,” Jim Hodges said over the PA system, his voice holding an edge of apprehension. “She can’t...oh, she’s down. She hit the barrel. Kate Morgan’s down.”
Panic and fear like nothing Shane had ever known before, cold, stark and black, swelled in his throat and threatened to wrench his heart from his chest. Whatever had happened between them in the past, whatever would happen in the future—none of that mattered. He had to get to her.
“Looks like her cinch broke just as she was starting to round that last barrel,” Hodges said, “and she fell off and hit her head.”
Instinct and the terror in his veins pushed Shane. He ran through the pen area, shoving people out of the way, jumping over a dog, bounded over the arena fence, then ran to where a crowd of cowboys had gathered closely around her.
“Move! Let me through,” Shane snapped, shoving them aside.
Tim turned toward him. “Shane, she’s—”
Shane jerked Tim’s hand from his arm.
One of the garishly painted clowns was kneeling down beside her.
Shane dropped to the ground, his knees digging into the dirt, his stomach clenched in a tight knot of fear. “Kate? Kate, are you all right? Talk to me, sweetheart. Are you all right?”
She was sitting hunched over, her head in her hands, but looked up when she heard him.
His body nearly collapsed as mind-wrenching relief assaulted him at seeing that she was alive.
“Shane?” Blood ran in an ugly but thin red river down her left temple, and confusion glistened in her eyes. She reached out for him, her hands shaking. “Shane?”
Uncertainty gripped him for one millisecond of eternity, then he pushed the clown aside and drew Kate into the circle of his arms, pulling her close, laying her head against his chest. “I was so afraid you were—” He choked on the words, unable to say them, and rocked her back and forth.
Two paramedics pushed through the circle of cowboys, and dropped a gurney down beside Kate. “Come on, Larrabee,” one said, hunkering down, “we need to examine her.”
But Shane refused to release her.
With an exasperated sigh, he looked into her eyes as she remained pressed to Shane’s chest, th
en touched the area around her injured forehead. “I think she needs stitches,” he said. “And she might have a concussion.”
Kate started to turn in Shane’s arms, winced, and grabbed at her side.
The paramedic reached over and, jerking Shane’s arm aside, ran a hand across Kate’s ribcage several times. In a few practiced motions they had her on their stretcher. “Probably bruised, but no bones broken.” He rose and looked pointedly at Shane, who was standing protectively close to Kate. “We need to get her over to the medtrailer.”
“I’ll take her,” Shane snapped.
The paramedic looked at Kate, back at Shane, then shrugged. “Fine.”
Shane slid a hand under Kate’s knees and lifted her into his arms.
She clung to him, her arms around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder. Her body was in pain, her head throbbing, and her mind was dazed, but she knew one thing: she was where she wanted to be, in Shane’s arms.
He carried her across the arena, past the pen area, and quickly mounted the steps of the medical trailer that was set up a short distance from the announcers’ booth. He laid her carefully on the examining table, then took one of her hands in his. “You scared me, Red,” he said softly.
She smiled. “Me, too.”
“You want to step outside for a few minutes,” the doctor suggested, looking at him.
“No.” Shane met the man’s eyes, challenging him to push the issue.
The doctor shrugged. “Fine, but it’ll be awfully close in here.”
His nurse entered then, as if to prove his point, and squeezed past Shane.
The doctor flashed a light in Kate’s eyes, examined the gash on her temple, ran his hands over her arms, ribs, hips, and legs. When his hand slid down her left calf and he accidentally brushed her boot with his hip, Kate let out a little yelp before managing to squelch it, and squeezed down on Shane’s hand.
The doctor frowned, then slid his fingers slowly down inside her boot.
Shane’s hand tightened on Kate’s as she stiffened, expecting another slash of pain.
The doctor shook his head. “Feels like you’ve got a sprain, and it’s already swollen. We’re going to have to cut this boot off.”
“Cut it off?” Kate screeched, jerking upright, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. The pain in her head instantly intensified, and she winced, hurriedly scrunching her eyes closed, but even that little movement brought on another wave of pain.
“Are you all right?” Shane asked softly when she moaned and sunk back down onto the table.
Kate swallowed hard and opened her eyes. “I think so,” she whispered, “if having a ten-piece band, heavy on the drums, marching around inside your head is all right.”
His hand cupped her shoulder, while his other held to hers.
She smiled weakly and struggled her way back up to look at the boots she’d just paid three hundred dollars for a couple of days ago. With Shane’s arm around her shoulder now, lending her support, she turned to the doctor. “Can’t you just pull it off?”
“It’s going to hurt like the blazes either way, but if I pull it off—” He shook his head. “How good are you with pain?”
She remembered the domestic violence call she’d answered with her partner a year ago, and the bullet that had come whizzing out of the apartment’s window to slice through the fleshy part of her thigh. A deep frown drew at her brow. “Not very good,” she said, looking longingly at the boot. “Cut it off.”
Twenty minutes later the doctor ripped off his gloves and leaned back against a counter. “Okay,” he said, sighing deeply. “It’s like I thought. You’ve got a pretty good sprain going there and you’re going to need to stay off your feet for a few days at least.”
The nurse brought in a pair of crutches and handed them to Shane.
“You can get around on those,” the doctor said, nodding to the crutches, “but I don’t want you putting any weight at all on that foot for at least a week. Understand?”
Kate nodded. She was going to have to call Captain Aames and get someone else to take over the case. At least it had been her left leg. If it had been the right and they’d pulled off the boot and seen her gun, she’d have had a lot of explaining to do, and most likely her cover would have been blown.
“And you’ve got a concussion,” the doctor said, cutting into her thoughts. “It’s mild, but you need to rest.”
“What about her ribs?” Shane asked.
Kate looked up at him, wanting nothing more than to crawl back into his arms.
“Bruised,” the doctor said. “They’ll be sore for a few days, but they’re all right. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” He stepped from the narrow room and left the trailer.
“I’ll drive you home,” Shane said, as Kate carefully swung her legs off the examining table and reached out for the crutches.
She shook her head. He’d been avoiding her ever since she’d told him there was another man in her life, and though she wanted nothing more than to lean on him for help, she couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair. “No, it’s all right. I can get home.”
“Your Jeep is a stick shift,” he said. “How will you get home?”
She looked up at him. He was waiting for her to say she’d call her lover, but there was no lover. “I’ll—I’ll manage,” she said.
“How?”
“I—I can call a cab.”
“No. I’ll take you home.”
“Shane, no. I can—”
“I said I’d take you home.”
Why did it have to be this way between them? Kate felt the ache in her heart tug at her senses. Love was supposed to make people feel good, make them happy. And it was supposed to die when two people were apart for years. Being without the other person was supposed to make you forget him. Wasn’t it?
She wondered then if she was going to love him, and miss him, for the rest of her life.
“I’ve got to do something first,” Shane said. “You wait here and I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
Kate’s melancholia instantly deserted her. He has to tell Dee Brant where he’s going, Kate thought, suddenly filled with fiery jealousy. Well, she had no intention of putting herself between the lovers, so she’d just find her own way home. If she had to, she’d call Aames and have someone sent down here in plainclothes to pick her up. She held on to the crutches and pushed off the examining table. The moment her injured foot hit the floor, pain shot up her leg and stars exploded in front of her eyes.
She slumped back onto the table, gasping for breath and blinking away tears.
Shane spotted Cody standing beside the Snack Shack talking with several women. “Make sure Samson’s all right later tonight, would you? And take care of Kate’s horse. Make sure it didn’t get hurt out there. Oh, and someone sabotaged her stall along with mine and several others. Tell Hodges, and make sure Kate’s is cleaned.”
“Sure, but where are you going?”
“I’m taking her home,” he said.
“Oh, yeah.” Cody nodded. “Is she okay?”
“No. She has a sprained ankle, bruised ribs, a concussion, and a cut on her temple. The doc wants her to stay off her feet for a couple of days and she can’t drive, so I’m taking her home.”
Cody’s eyes narrowed slightly. “But you’ll be back for your rides tomorrow night, right?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shane,” Cody snapped, “you have to ride. You paid the entry fees. Your name’s on the schedule. If you don’t make your rides—”
Dee walked up beside Shane. “What do you mean, if he doesn’t make his rides? Why wouldn’t he?” She looked from one man to the other.
“Shane’s taking Kate home,” Cody growled.
A look of incredulity came over Dee’s face as she stared up at Shane. “You’re not,” she said, her tone heavy with disbelief.
“I am.” He turned on his heel. “I’ll see you both tomorrow,” he threw over his shoulder.
“Are you sure?” C
ody called after him.
“No.”
Dee stamped a foot in the dirt. “Damn that blasted woman,” she said under her breath. “Why can’t she just leave him alone?”
When the pain in her leg finally subsided to a tolerable ache, Kate looked around the medical trailer and saw the phone that hung on the nearby wall. She grabbed its receiver and quickly dialed the precinct.
One of the captain’s assistants answered the phone. “He’s not here, Kate,” Matt Ruhler said. “We’ve had some trouble at one of the high schools.”
“Big?” Kate asked.
“Yeah. We had to call in a few off-duty officers.”
Kate frowned. This obviously would not be a good time to leave a message requesting that the captain replace her. “Matt, I need some background checks done,” she said instead, deciding to call Aames in the morning.
“On who?”
“Any and all young males connected to the rodeo. Let’s say under twenty-one...no, twenty-five,” she said, remembering a couple of men she’d arrested that looked seventeen and had turned out to be twenty-four.
Matt whistled. “You don’t ask for much do you? That could be a couple dozen, if we’re talking sons of contestants, vendors, sponsors, whatever.”
“We are,” Kate said. “But maybe I can narrow the list down a bit. I’m interested in any who are between about five eight and six feet tall, are built slight, not heavy, and have light hair, most likely blond.”
“You know getting juvenile records, if it comes to that, isn’t going to be easy.”
“I know. Anyway, thanks a lot, Matt. I’ll check in tomorrow for whatever you can get on this.” She hung up quickly, afraid Matt would protest further, or Shane would return and overhear her.
The door opened just as she pulled her hand away from the phone, and Shane entered. “Ready to go home?” he asked, and smiled.
The moment her gaze met his Kate’s heart threatened to melt. She tried to shrug the sensation away and reached for her crutches, afraid he would see her feelings in her eyes. He was involved with someone else, she reminded herself. He might still care for her, might still be attracted to her, but it was Dee Brant he was involved with, and she was better for him, Kate told herself. Dee could share the kind of life with him that Shane loved.