by Sheryl Lynn
She started to protest, but bit it back. She paid him to work, not watch her work. She watched his back muscles working under his thin cotton shirt as he wheeled the barrow out of the barn. She lowered her gaze and admired the fit of his blue jeans and the easy swing of his stride.
She’d never been a flirt or a hunk watcher. So why all of a sudden was it so hard keeping her eyes and wayward thoughts off Reb Tremaine? It was as if a shell had been holding in her exuberance and feelings and needs. Reb with his sexy smile and beautiful eyes had broken the shell, and she fooled only herself in thinking she could fit the pieces back together.
The capriciousness of her soul bemused her. She began flaking apart the straw bale to spread a fresh bed inside the stall. If she needed a man, she should turn her sights on Mickey Thigpen. At least he had a steady job. Reb never said a word about himself, so he remained a mystery.
She’d finished strewing fresh straw and had filled Blossom’s water bucket with clean water when Reb returned.
“So, how are you searching?” he asked.
She blinked in puzzlement. “What do you mean, how?”
“Your method. You aren’t riding around just hoping to spot something suspicious.”
Sheepishly she nodded.
He tsked his disapproval.
“How else am I supposed to do it?” She pointed with her chin at Copper. “I take him along.” The dog opened his mouth in a grin, and his tail thumped against the floor, raising dust. “I’ve been concentrating on one patch of woods, though,” Emily continued. “See…here, let me show you.”
She hunkered into a crouch and smoothed a spot on the barn floor. She used her finger to draw in the dirt. “The forest is diamond shaped. It peters out at the base of Hannah Peak, and there’s a deep ravine on the west side. To the south it’s all winter pasture and mostly open. Maybe in the daytime Tuff would have chanced climbing down the ravine or up the peak, but not in the dark. Besides, we’re talking about a lot of acreage. Rough, rocky ground with plenty of hiding places.”
“What about the ravine?”
“I checked. I’ve been up and down it a couple times. But I didn’t see anything unusual.” She shook her head. She poked her crudely drawn map. “We should be looking in the woods.”
“Searching from horseback is a mistake. Hard rain would have washed away signs of digging or footprints. We’ll search on foot and use probes.” He scratched underneath his hat and clucked his tongue. “Is there a trail?”
“Several. Deer and cattle wander through there.” She touched her map again. “I’m pretty sure Tuff took this main trail that starts almost due west of the house.”
“How long was Tuff out there?”
She had to give it some thought. Some details, such as the traces of blood surrounding the outdoor water faucet, haunted her with distressing clarity. Other details, such as the exact time Tuff’s arguing had awakened her, were fuzzy. She dredged through her memory and recalled looking at the clock while she cleaned the kitchen. She’d noted it had been an hour since she called the sheriff’s department. Tuff had returned about an hour later. “At least two hours,” she said. “Certainly no more than three.”
“Hmm, then you’re right, he couldn’t have gotten far.” He rose gracefully from a crouch and extended a hand.
She took his hand automatically, and he pulled her upright. His grip remained firm a fraction too long. His touch affected her despite her heavy work gloves. She pulled her hand free.
“We’ll use something for markers and conduct a search section by section.”
His matter-of-factness caused a funny sort of pain in her heart. He wasn’t humoring her or patronizing her or treating her like a crazy woman. He believed in her conviction Tuff was a killer. Having someone treat her like a reasonable human being was almost more than her battered psyche could take. Gratitude made her want to kiss him again.
At least, she told herself it was gratitude.
When she started walking, he swung into step beside her. Her boots thudded dully against the dirt floor, but his made no sound she could detect. “Do you mind me asking where you’re from?” She glanced at him. “Originally?”
“Here and there. I grew up in Arizona, near Winslow.”
She walked a few paces, awaiting elaboration. It was a rare man who didn’t like carrying on about himself. His silence amused her.
“Ah,” he said, “she smiles.”
She shrugged. “I’ve always been the quiet one. But around you, I feel downright chatty.”
“I don’t think you’re chatty. I like talking to you.”
In a storage shed they scrounged through the decades-old clutter for broom handles to use as probes, and also found a package of red automotive rags to use as markers. Emily filled canteens with water. They headed for the forest. Copper bounded after them, his curly tail waving like a flag.
At Blue Rock Creek, Copper leapt into the pool of water at the tractor crossing, his paws lapping noisily as he paddled across to the other side. He hit the opposite bank running. Reb jumped lithely from a boulder, over the water and onto a flat rock. His easy strength and agility made her nervous all of a sudden. Her brother would be gone for days. No one she knew realized a stranger was working on the ranch. And now she’d accompanied Reb into the forest.
“Hey, little Red Riding Hood,” said the handsome wolf, “come walk with me into the big bad woods.”
Reb held out a hand, urging her to jump the creek. “You can make it.”
She glanced at the house. If Reb meant to do her harm, he could easily have entered her house at any time. She grasped the canteen slung over her shoulder to keep it from swinging and jumped the creek.
Reb caught her upper arm to steady her, and time froze as she looked up into his crystal blue eyes. Fearful thoughts wisped away like water vapor. His grin faded, and his mouth softened. His hand tightened on her arm. He was going to kiss her again. She felt it all the way to her toes. She wanted to kiss him.
He turned her loose. “Let’s go, ma’am.” He hopped off the rock and strode toward the forest.
Disappointment dropped into her belly with a reality-jarring thump. Imagining he liked her was just that—imagination. She huffed in self-disgust. She didn’t want a man anyway. She hurried to catch up to him.
“So you suspect your older brother is a drug dealer,” he said.
“I know he gets his money from somewhere. When he was a kid, he held wild parties whenever Grandpa was gone.”
“So he flashes a lot of cash.”
“All I know is, he always has money for booze and parties. And he doesn’t believe in holding a job. He hasn’t even worked on the ranch since Grandpa died. He gives money to Joey, too, and that scares me. I’m afraid he’ll get Joey involved in whatever he’s doing.”
“What about the sheriff?”
“Mickey basically says he has more important things to do than worry about Tuff. And Tuff is too smart to get caught.”
“You’ve been trying to find evidence against him a long time.”
The mildly spoken comment stung. “It’s not that way at all. Joey thinks I have a score to settle with Tuff, but it isn’t true. I’ve tried to make peace with him. Live and let live. You don’t know what it’s like.”
“Sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn.”
She kicked a rock on the path, and it struck a yucca, sending up a cloud of dark butterflies. She watched their erratic flight path across the meadow to another plant. “I’ve always been afraid of Tuff, even when we were little. The scariest thing is how good he is at fooling people. He lies for the fun of it. He turns on the charm and gets away with…murder.”
Reb made an encouraging noise.
“He never fooled Grandpa. Brute strength is the only thing Tuff really respects, and Grandpa had plenty of that. Until he got sick. Then Tuff turned on him. He’s like a coyote. Once he spots a weakness, there’s no stopping him from getting what he wants.” She looked up at Reb
, sharing her dismay. “The saddest thing is, Grandpa wouldn’t ask Joey for help or even let him know what Tuff was doing. He was such an arrogant old man. I’m sure he wanted to protect Joey, or maybe he couldn’t admit how Tuff took advantage of him. He was ashamed or something.”
She stopped at the edge of the forest. Pounded rockhard by the passage of countless hooves, the path meandered through the widely spaced Ponderosa pines. Tiny gray-and-black nuthatches hopped around the tree trunks, searching for bugs. Patches of kinnikinnick formed brilliant green carpets dotted by red berries. A jay screamed at them. Crunching wood, rustling and flashes of golden red fur marked Copper’s progress through the oak tangles.
“How far is it to the ravine?” Reb asked. He used the broomstick probe as if it were a walking stick.
“As the crow flies?” She made a mental calculation. “Quarter of a mile maybe. The trail goes all over the place, though.”
“I take it Tuff is familiar with this forest.”
“Very much. When we were kids, this was his forest. Trespassers beware.” Seeing him dappled with the cool green light gave Emily the idea Reb was at home in a forest, too. A wild man, as one with Nature.
“Let’s start with the obvious. We’ll follow the trail and search ten feet along each side.”
“Inch by inch.”
Reb gave a single nod. He paced off ten steps to the south of the trail and tied a piece of red rag to a twig. “Start here. Keep your head down, assume nothing and use your probe. I’ll mark out your search area.”
Emily began a zigzag course along the trail. Eyes focused on the ground, she poked the broomstick into piles of leaves and pine straw, beneath fallen logs, under every rock and into every crevice. Except for the occasional scrape of his boots on rocks or the crunch of a pine cone, Reb made no sound while he searched along the opposite side of the trail. The trail followed the hills and valleys, and wound around piles of boulders and massive old trees. Poking and prodding, Emily made slow progress marked by little red flags to show where she’d been. By the time they finally reached the ravine, the sun was skimming the mountain peaks.
Emily drank deeply from the canteen. She poured some water in her cupped hand and rubbed its soothing coolness over her hot face and throat.
Reb swept his gaze up and down the ravine. The other side rose sharply in a chalky gray cliff. Stubborn aspen trees grew at impossible angles near the top, wherever a bit of dirt collected between the rocks. He tested the wire fence erected to keep cattle from wandering over the edge and getting trapped in the ravine. The barbed-wire strands sagged, rusty with age.
“You searched the ravine?”
“I went down into it and followed it from top to bottom. Nothing.” She leaned her head far back to get a read on the sun’s position. “It’ll be dark soon. We best get back.”
“We’ll look again tomorrow. I’ll see about getting the chores done quick—”
His abrupt silence made the short hairs snap to attention on her nape. She followed his line of sight where he stared into the ravine.
“What is it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” He used one hand to push down the second strand of wire, and he eased through the fence. The top strand knocked off his hat, but he ignored it, his attention fixed on something at the edge of the ravine. Gravel broke and went clattering and tumbling the twenty or so feet to the bottom. He picked something up from the base of a prickly bush.
She scooped up his white straw hat. “What is it, Reb?”
He leaned over, craning his neck to study the inner cliff face. Finally he stepped back to the fence. He showed her a tattered piece of cloth. “Did you lose this?”
The cloth was a cotton black-and-white gingham print. Thin and tightly woven, it probably came from a shirt. She remembered the other night when Copper had been barking, and a frisson of fear tickled her innards. “It’s not mine. I don’t think it’s Joey’s either.”
Absently Reb brushed thick hanks of hair off his forehead. He peered closely at the cloth. “It doesn’t look all that old.”
“Maybe somebody else is searching the property.”
He lifted his gaze to her face. “Maybe they’re looking for the duffel bag. Any ideas?”
Emily could only shake her head. God only knew what Tuff had gotten involved in. Or with whom.
Chapter Five
Emily set the platter of meat loaf in front of Reb. Without Joey around, the kitchen seemed extra quiet. Being alone with Reb caused an awkward silence that tangled her tongue and made her self-conscious about every move she made. Her T-shirt felt too tight; ragged strings on the bottom of her cutoff shorts tickled her thighs, but if she brushed them away, he’d look at her thighs. Even imagining him staring at her bare legs turned her insides to mush.
He smiled in gratitude. Warm light from the old-fashioned globe fixture overhead colored his eyes an electric blue. Dark rings surrounded the irises. She liked looking at him, liked the feeling of connection and understanding—liked the sexiness. He dropped his gaze, breaking the spell.
She loosed a long breath as she hurried to the other end of the table. She seated herself and flipped a napkin over her lap. Head down, she waited for Reb to finish loading his plate with meat loaf and boiled potatoes.
The scrap of cloth he’d found at the ravine lay on the table next to his plate. He picked up his fork, then touched the cloth with his little finger. “It doesn’t look weather-beaten or sun-bleached. I’d say it hasn’t been there long.”
She put food on her plate. “It could belong to a hiker. A lot of folks like the backcountry off the trails. We’re less than three miles from a national forest.”
“Could be.”
Emily focused on her food. Silence wore on her, increasing her nervousness. “Mind a question?” she asked. “Why are you here?”
He hoisted his fork. “I’m hungry.”
She waggled a finger at him. “You know what I mean. Why are you on the Double Bar R, working for slave wages? I don’t have anything to offer you. No promotions, not even job security.”
“I’m a cowboy. I go where the work is.”
She ate a few mouthfuls. He knew his way around horses and cattle, and was certainly strong enough for the work. Even so…she observed his nice manners. The way he put down his fork between bites and used his napkin made it easy to picture him wearing a suit and tie while dining in a fine restaurant. It struck her as odd how he knew so much about conducting a search, too. Never in a million years would it have occurred to her to mark out grids.
“What part of New Mexico did you live in?”
If her nosiness offended him, he gave no sign. “Grants. I worked for an outfitter as a hunting guide and wrangler. The boss decided to sell out, and I took it as a sign to move on.”
“A hunting guide. I see.” His explanation answered many of her questions. Though not the one about why a man of his quality worked for her. She supposed delving too deeply in the subject might embarrass him.
After supper she began clearing the dishes. Reb carried his plate to the sink and scraped it. “You don’t have to do that,” she said.
“I don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll wash. You dry and put away.”
“It might be a lousy old kitchen, but it’s mine. I don’t like anyone else working in here.”
He whistled as he backed away from the sink, and then bent at the waist in a gracious bow. “My apologies, ma’am. Guess I’ll go wander around the barn and see if there’s anything I can do there. Thank you very much for the chow. It was fine as can be, as usual.”
Shame nipped her. He was probably lonely, too, and he had been kind in helping her today. “Have a seat. I’ll make a pot of coffee. I’ve got some cookies if you want something sweet.”
“I never turn down a sweet,” he said silkily.
“I can make something fancier if you want.” For one of his smiles, she’d bake a pastry shop full of tortes.
“Cookies are fine.” He sa
t back down and folded his arms over his chest. “So how long were you married?”
A few weeks ago his use of the past tense would have distressed her. Except she hadn’t thought about Daniel once today. For a few disconcerting seconds she tried rousing feelings of loss and grief, but they eluded her. “Almost nine years,” she said. Catching the quirk of his eyebrow, she added, “And yes, I was much too young. I had just turned sixteen.” She squirted dishwashing detergent into the sink. After she started dishes soaking, she turned her attention to the coffeepot. “What about you? Married?”
He swung his head slowly in reply.
“Never?”
“Can’t seem to settle down.”
She wasn’t certain she believed him. He was a nice man, and he appeared to like women. He didn’t seem the type who used his attractiveness for meaningless conquests, either. Unlike her brothers, Reb wasn’t vain at all.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Her eyes widened. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy. Forget I asked that.”
“I don’t mind.” He chuckled. “No girlfriends. No ties at all.”
“What about your family?”
“None to speak of. I’m alone.”
Even a weird, dysfunctional family like hers had to be ten times better than being all alone in the world. Her heart ached for him. “Joey probably told you our parents were killed in a car crash when he was only a baby. Grandpa raised us.”
She prepared the coffee for brewing and hit the power switch. The smell of coffee reminded her of how Grandpa pounded on doors every morning at four o’clock sharp, even on Sundays. She remembered how his large, shaggy head bowed when he said grace and his uncanny way of saying an exactly oneminute prayer before every meal. He and Joey had been alike in possessing an accurate inner clock.
“Joey told me you and your grandfather didn’t get along.”
“I hated him when I was a kid. He ran the ranch like a boot camp. His philosophy was, if you weren’t working, you were getting into trouble. And when there was trouble, he always took the boys’ sides over mine. I was supposed to keep this house spotless and meals on the table and my mouth shut. Girls weren’t allowed to have opinions. Or emotions.”