by Pam Crooks
The cowboy nodded. “Folks from all over these parts was talkin’ about that party. You’d a thought the president of the United States was comin’ to visit.”
TJ recalled the talk, too. The preparations. The hoopla. How the most prominent of the Panhandle’s citizenry had been invited.
“Someone at the party told Danny I wanted to see him. So he slipped away without anyone knowing and set out to find me at the new horse barn.”
“‘Someone,’” Stinky said. “You don’t know who?”
“No. Except that it was a woman.”
TJ had lain awake nights trying to figure out who she was. Why she would’ve lied to the boy. Who she was working with, most of all.
“I had no reason to go through her to leave a message for Danny, especially at that late hour,” TJ said. “I could’ve talked to him any time of day I wanted.”
The cowboy nodded. “You could.” He studied the burning tip of his cigarette, as if sorting through the story. “So this person wanted the boy there. Any idea why?”
“They meant to use him somehow.”
Stinky’s expression turned grim. “You figure they wanted to kidnap him? Hold him for ransom?”
“I’m figuring that, yes.”
But TJ’s gut said there was more. Something deeper. More menacing.
“The C Bar C is one of the biggest spreads in Texas.” Stinky heaved a troubled sigh. “Easy to think they got greedy and wanted to hit Carina and Penn where it hurt most.”
TJ’s stomach clenched at how well they’d succeeded. “Damned shame they had to use an innocent child to do it.”
Stinky Dale’s gaze lifted. The lantern light failed to hide his suspicion or the confusion that put it there. “But you claimed to kill him. Why’d you shoot at him?”
“Whoever was waiting in that barn tried to run, but Danny—he got in the way.” The words sent shards of pain and regret into TJ’s chest. “It was an accident, Stinky,” he said roughly. “An accident.”
“The judge and jury didn’t think so.”
“They were bought. And they didn’t waste time convicting me of involuntary manslaughter.” Damn, he detested the charge, the ugliness of the words.
“Folks trust the law in this country.” The cowboy’s gaze didn’t waver. “So that’s a hell of an accusation, TJ. Not like you to make it unless you knew for sure.” He regarded him. Hard. “Do you? Know for sure?”
“No.” It galled him to make the admission. He refused to explain how little he knew, that he had to rely on instinct until he got the facts from either Harvey or the sheriff and hopefully both, and what did it matter if Stinky Dale believed him or not? TJ mashed the stub of his cigarette into the ground. Furiously. “The fire destroyed the barn, and if there was any evidence about the person waiting for him, it’s gone. The judge heard nothing to prove I wanted to hurt Danny.”
“Ah, but you’re wrong, TJ.”
He jerked toward the softly sarcastic voice behind him and found Callie Mae standing outside the door. She took a leisurely step forward, yet the contemptuous arch of her brow revealed her disdain at the conversation she’d been eavesdropping.
He didn’t know how much she’d heard, but she looked ready to tangle horns with him. He rose to face her, ready for the fight. Stinky Dale rose, too, his glance jumping wary between them.
“The hell I am, Callie Mae,” TJ said.
She halted. “The jury had one piece of evidence, and that’s all they needed to convict you.”
Remembering, his lip curled. “That evidence should’ve proved that if I really wanted to kill Danny, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t have done it like it happened.”
“You’d been drinking, and it was your shotgun that killed him, TJ. You admitted pulling the trigger. There’s not clearer evidence than that.”
“Whoa, you two.” Stinky held up his hand. “What piece of evidence are you talking about?”
Callie Mae’s throat moved in the lantern light, as if she had to try hard to keep her composure.
“A single shotgun pellet killed my brother, Stinky Dale,” she said. “He died instantly. And—”
“It was a wild shot, Callie Mae,” TJ grated. “Never intended for him. Never.”
“Easy to say that now, isn’t it?” she snapped. “When you’re sober.”
Remorse burned like bile in his stomach. Yes, he’d broken C Bar C rules by having a few beers that night. Hell, everyone there was guilty of doing the same thing. But he hadn’t had so many that he couldn’t remember each haunting detail of what happened.
“A hundred times I said it was an accident, but the judge didn’t listen,” he said.
And neither had she. Or her parents. TJ had Kullen Brosius to thank for that. The bastard had ruthlessly manipulated them all as if they were puppets on strings, and TJ had yet to fathom why Brosius was so determined to see him convicted.
But he would. One day soon.
“I’ve always known TJ to be an expert marksman,” Stinky Dale said, looking as if he didn’t know what to make of all he was hearing. “Once he eyed a target, with a shotgun—” He halted, cleared his throat and threw Callie Mae a stricken glance. “Not that he’d make Danny a target. No, ma’am. Hell, I just can’t believe he would.”
“Seems you’re about the only one who can’t,” TJ said, knowing how self-pitying he sounded but unable to help himself. “Danny was as fine a boy as could be found. Everyone thought so.”
“No, not everyone,” Callie Mae said stiffly. “Or else he’d be alive today.”
He detected the hurt in her voice and felt for himself the grief that still hovered raw and aching beneath her skin. He heard the blame she felt for him, too, which he didn’t deserve but which he accepted, and if he never did anything else in his pathetic life, he intended to find out the truth and stamp his own brand of justice on whoever was responsible.
Yet the words to tell her as much stayed on his tongue. She wasn’t ready to listen yet. Or to believe. She wasn’t willing to trust that he wanted answers, too, and needed them as much as she did.
More, most likely.
She stood glaring up at him in the lantern’s light. He couldn’t recall the last time he was this close to her, not when she was the almighty Callie Mae Lockett and he was just another cowboy in the C Bar C outfit. He breathed different air than she did up there on her pedestal. She lived a whole different life, leaving him with no choice but to admire her from afar.
To love her, too.
Most every cowboy in three surrounding states fancied himself in love with her one time or another, and he had nothing on any of them.
Not anymore.
TJ soaked in the privilege of being with her now. The shadowy light hid the color of her eyes and darkened the color of her hair, but he could see her weariness as plain as if she stood beneath the noonday sun.
He had to fist his hands to keep from touching her. She wouldn’t appreciate his attempt to comfort. The glare lingering in her expression warned him as much, but the need in him was there. Growing. Making him forget about Stinky Dale and Blue and the terrible thing done to Danny that needed righting.
“I’ve changed my mind about staying here,” she said coolly, sending his thoughts rippling. “I want to keep riding.”
Her demand startled him. She’d been adamant about stopping for the night. As much as he wanted to comply, though, her fatigue concerned him, and he shook his head in refusal.
“It’s late,” he said. “It’s best if we both rest up and get a fresh start in the morning.”
Her determined gaze held his. “Are you going to keep bucking me every minute, TJ? Let’s mount up.”
He frowned at the impatience in her voice. Something had happened at supper, he suspected. With Becky? The boys?
“You’re needin’ that horse to help you find out what really happened to Danny, aren’t you, TJ?” Stinky Dale asked, his tone pensive, his scrutiny shrewd. “That’s why you’re all-fired up to find him.”
TJ dragged his glance from Callie Mae. He could almost feel the cowboy delving into his thoughts, reading them to understand. “That’s right.”
“How? You going to sell him?”
“No.” The plans he’d made with Boomer, the hopes and dreams that might never happen if he didn’t find his precious Blue, reared up in his mind all over again. “I’m going to race him.”
Stinky’s brows arched. “Race him!”
“Yes.”
For the money he’d earn, TJ could do all he had to do to prove his innocence and undo the damage a shyster like Kullen Brosius had done. To get his life, his independence, his good name back.
Blue could do all those things for him, but he refrained from saying so. Callie Mae wouldn’t agree to his methods, and he was of no mind to argue with her.
But a small smile of approval formed on Stinky Dale’s mouth, telling TJ he didn’t need to say a thing. “You two had better get a move on, then, hadn’t you? Before that horse gets to runnin’ too far.”
“I’ll just go in and get my hat.” Callie Mae turned back toward the house, swishing her hems in her haste.
“Now hold on, Callie Mae,” the cowboy said.
She halted and swung toward him.
“You always did go for a lot of fancy riggin’—” he raked her gown with a pointed glance “—but you can’t go traipsing all over the countryside dressed like you are.”
She glanced down at her skirts. “Well, there’s no help for it. I have nothing else.”
“I’ll find you something more fittin’. I’ll fix you two up with some supplies, too. TJ, come on in and get some vittles while I do. You have any idea where you’re going?”
TJ set his hands on his hips and scanned the darkness. Miles and miles of night-covered range. He swallowed and tried not to feel overwhelmed. “Not a one.”
Stinky Dale reached around Callie Mae and opened the door, but he stopped before going in, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Caught sight of a herd of mustangs today down by the Palo Duro. Runnin’ wild and free, they was. Might be your horse caught up and decided to run with them for a spell.”
Mustangs.
Blue was born with more spirit than a horse should need. It was what TJ loved most about him, that spirit, and if Blue met up with a herd who thrilled on running, on freedom, as much as he did…
“If he’s the horse you think he is,” Callie Mae said quietly, her gaze steady. “He wouldn’t be able to help himself.”
Hope stirred in his blood. He hadn’t expected her to share his thinking, but it seemed she did, and for now, it was enough.
It’d be a long shot, finding the herd of mustangs. Finding Blue with them, even longer.
But he had to try.
Chapter Seven
“What happened back there to make you so all-fired up to leave the Coopers?” TJ demanded.
Guided by the silvery moonlight, they’d ridden at a brisk pace from Stinky Dale’s cabin toward the head of the Palo Duro Canyon, but the threat one of the horses could step into a prairie-dog hole or a rut hidden in the grass compelled TJ to slow down. Callie Mae had to admit she was glad for it. Every muscle in her body had begun to feel the hours he’d all but forced her to spend in the saddle.
“They barely had enough to eat for themselves,” she said curtly. “Once I realized it, I couldn’t expect them to feed us, too.”
She’d stretched her serving of beef and potatoes by cutting them into small pieces and eating slowly. If Becky noticed, she didn’t say anything. But then, the woman had been about as warm as an icicle. Callie Mae found it easiest to ignore her.
“Folks out here are accustomed to sharing what they have,” TJ said. “Even if what they have isn’t much.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m willing to take food from the mouths of children, and Becky made it plain she didn’t like me much,” Callie Mae retorted, annoyed she’d been made to defend herself. That he felt she needed educating, too. “I’ve lived in this part of Texas all my life. You make it sound as if I haven’t.”
“Maybe, but your life is different than most.”
“Because I’m a Lockett?”
“Yep. C Bar C.”
She regarded him from beneath the brim of the hat Becky had lent her. The darkness hid TJ’s features, but she could feel the disapproval in him. She could see it, too, in the way he rode with the reins gripped in his fist, his back straight, his shoulders taut.
Was he angry with her? Blaming her for who she was?
Or merely consumed with finding his horse?
Some of all three, she suspected, and her regard lingered, held in place by the threads of awareness slipping through her veins, forcing her to acknowledge how he made an imposing figure silhouetted in the saddle. Rugged and virile.
Male.
She swiveled her head away and refused to keep looking at him. No denying he was all those things, but thinking of him as “virile,” well, she couldn’t let herself stray in that direction.
Even if he did have… appeal to him.
He was only a cowboy, she reminded herself firmly. A convicted one at that, and he’d caused her and her parents enough grief to last them a lifetime.
“My mother worked day and night for a good many years to build the C Bar C to the spread it is today, TJ,” she said stiffly. “When she married Penn, he worked right along with her. They deserve every bit of the prosperity they’ve earned.”
“Never said they didn’t, and I’m glad they have it to enjoy.” She could feel his glare but refused to meet it. “You forget I lived on the ranch, too. I know as well as anyone how hard they worked.”
He’d been tireless in his own labors, she had to acknowledge. His devotion to the C Bar C, to her parents, had never been questioned.
Until the night Danny died.
Another round of weariness rolled through her, and she sighed. “Your point being?”
“That you’ve forgotten what it’s like to be… average.”
“Average?” Her brow arched. “How so?”
“That grandmother of yours, spoiling you from the time you figured what it meant, for starters.”
“Hmm.”
She had to concede him that. Mavis Webb never had a daughter of her own. Her son, Rogan—Callie Mae’s no-good father—was killed a decade previous, victim of his own criminal activities. But even before then, Mavis had been as generous and devoted to Callie Mae as a grandmother could be.
More, most likely.
Callie Mae’s spoiling had been a point of great contention between Mavis and Carina for years. For Callie Mae’s sake, though, they’d managed to be polite to one another while she’d grown into full womanhood.
Now, sadly, Grandmother was gone, and as the last of the Webb bloodline, Callie Mae stood to inherit the formidable family fortune.
A daunting prospect, to say the least. Managing so much money in addition to the C Bar C’s wouldn’t be easy, but she’d have Kullen’s help. His lawyerly advice would be invaluable. Already, they’d spent untold hours discussing their financial future after they were married.
A renewed wave of concern for him washed through her, and she bristled at the irony of how she’d abandoned him. And she refused to feel guilty for the advantages she’d been able to enjoy, both as a Lockett and a Webb.
“I was all the family Grandmother had,” Callie Mae said, bringing herself back to TJ’s comment and where she was—riding the range with him at an ungodly hour of night. “We loved each other very much.”
“Which you should. I’m just saying not everyone is as privileged as you. Becky Cooper might think you don’t know what it’s like to have to work for an honest living. Or maybe she was embarrassed that she and Stinky Dale did.”
If what he said was true, the woman would be wrong on both counts. Callie Mae grew up doing her share of chores. She’d gotten as sweaty and dirty as any of the C Bar C cowboys more times than she cared to count.
Except not so much an
ymore, Callie Mae had to admit, and that was likely the part Becky resented. Most days, Callie Mae traded her denims and boots for high-priced gowns and fine leather shoes. To attend parties and meetings with influential townsmen and politicians. To eat elegant foods and drink sparkling wines. All in the name of the C Bar C.
Business matters.
The scope of her responsibilities had changed, that’s all.
And as far as Becky being embarrassed over what little she had, well, Callie Mae regretted she felt that way. There was no shame in raising a family and working a small spread. Callie Mae vowed to be a mite friendlier, to set the woman at ease, the next time she saw her.
TJ drew up then, and caught up in her thoughts, Callie Mae automatically followed suit. He rested his palms over the saddle horn.
“Speaking of privilege, Miss Lockett,” he said in a low, mocking drawl. “When was the last time you spent the night in a bedroll?”
The seductiveness in his voice kicked at her imagination for what he might imply… until she assured herself he hadn’t implied anything. Certainly nothing intimate. The question was a legitimate one.
“Not so long ago,” she said, her chin lifting from her own foolishness.
“Back in ’89, if I recall. Spring roundup. You woke up to find a snake coiled on top of your blanket. You damn near scared off the herd with your screaming.”
“I didn’t!”
Well, she might have shrieked a bit, but she deplored reptiles and was entitled. The disgusting creature kept her shuddering for weeks.
“Jesse Keller had to leave camp and take you all the way home,” TJ added.
“He was very nice about it, too,” she retorted.
Callie Mae had endured her share of teasing over the incident, but TJ was right. She hadn’t spent a night outside since—and didn’t regret it in the least.
“No one here to take you home tonight,” TJ said and dismounted with the grace of a man who’d done it all his life. “It’s too far, besides. So you’d best get down and we’ll get ready to turn in.”
He strolled toward her and got her imagination going. That intimacy again. The inevitability that the two of them would be together.