by Diana Palmer
“The one you call Rory,” he replied. “The saddle horse.”
She was sorry about Rory, but she was fondest of Gold and Silver, and she felt guilty at being relieved that it wasn’t Silver.
“What have you done about it?” she asked.
“Had the vet come out,” he said. “I figured that’s what you’d want me to do.”
“Of course,” she said. She bit her lower lip. “Did you call Sheriff Banks?” she added.
He looked faintly irritated. “No.”
“Well, do it,” she said angrily. “Bailey isn’t getting away with this! If there’s evidence that points to him, the sheriff is the obvious one to look for it. He has an investigator. Ask him to bring the man with him.”
“I’ll do that,” he said.
“Two horses with injuries within a month,” she said, her eyes blazing with anger. “I want security cameras everywhere. I don’t care what it costs! Get some of those trail cameras that hunters use. They’re Wi-Fi capable and they record everything. Make sure they have Wi-Fi and color and night vision.”
“Okay,” he said.
“Damn,” she bit off. “Any man who’d hurt a helpless animal should be put on the rack!”
“Wrong century,” he pointed out.
She glared at him. “Jail, then, and for years.”
He shrugged. “Some men don’t like animals.”
“Yes, but on this ranch, nobody is going to injure one. Get busy.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said in his lazy drawl. “I’ll get right on it.”
He went out the door and Ida cursed until she ran out of bad words. It wasn’t until she’d gone to bed that she realized Jake had still been sitting in the yard in his limousine when she let Laredo into the house.
She groaned inwardly. That was going to look bad. The bodyguard was well built and handsome, and Jake already didn’t quite trust her. What had he thought? If he thought Ida had something going with Laredo, he might not come back.
That thought haunted her. She’d already become fascinated with Jake, who seemed to be everything a true man should be. But he didn’t trust her, and that was part of any relationship; there had to be trust. She wondered how in the world she could win his.
* * *
THE PAIN HAD been bad. She’d gone out to see Rory, her saddle horse, and winced at the deep cuts on his flanks. She stood beside the vet while he used a local and stitched them, muttering about the inhumanity of some people. She agreed with him, angry herself that it could have happened twice. She mentioned that to the vet, who said that he’d be happy to testify if she could find the scoundrel who was responsible. She said she’d talk to the sheriff the very next day and follow up on Laredo’s call to him.
Later, when she was certain that Rory would heal, and when she’d checked worriedly on Gold, recovering in a nearby stall from similar injuries, she’d taken the ibuprofen with a few crackers and cheese, and an antacid. It was helping. It didn’t stop the pain entirely, but it was effective. At least it would deal with the inflammation.
There were narcotics that would have done a better job for pain, but Ida wouldn’t ask for them. She had no wish to become addicted to something that probably wouldn’t work for very long anyway. Anti-inflammatories were quite effective, and the pain was something she’d learned to live with.
She closed her eyes and finally fell asleep.
The next morning she was awakened by a knock at the door. When she opened it, in her long, concealing thick robe, she found Sheriff Banks on the porch.
He tipped his hat. There was a quiet, friendly smile on his face. The sheriff was ultraconservative and he’d known Ida only by reputation when she’d first moved back to Catelow. He’d talked to Cindy, who filled him in about her reclusive neighbor. And the night Cody had talked with her, when her screams had led Cindy to call the sheriff, a lot of his misgivings about the divorcée had been laid to rest.
Sheriff Cody Banks was tall, dark-eyed, dark-haired, a handsome man with a rodeo rider’s physique. Authority sat on him like a mantle. He was afraid of nothing on earth, and he’d been sheriff of Carne County for over nine years, reelected every time he ran with a unanimous vote. He was incorruptible, which kept him in office.
Ida invited him inside.
“Your cowboy said you had a suspicious injury to a horse,” he said without preamble.
“Yes,” she replied, all business. She folded her arms over her breasts. It was still uncomfortable being alone with a strange man. She trusted no one these days. “First it was one of my palominos. Now it’s my older saddle horse. Both have deep cuts on their flanks, but there’s no way they could have been injured accidentally.”
He pushed his hat back over his thick dark hair. “You think it was done intentionally?”
“Yes.” She shifted uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. I have to sit down,” she said after a minute. “I have metal screws in my hip and metal screws holding a metal rod into the bone in my thigh. This cold weather makes for a lot of pain.” She sat down, grimacing as the simple act sent a bolt of pain right through her body.
Cody scowled. “You never told me what sort of injury would cause that much reconstructive surgery,” he said flatly.
She sighed. “Being thrown over the side of a parking garage. It works quite well.”
He looked shocked. “That’s what your ex-husband did to you?” he added, outrage showing on his hard face.
“My ex-husband,” she agreed simply. “All the wealth is mine. He felt he was entitled to half of it. I divorced him while he was in jail awaiting trial for assault. There were no witnesses the first time, when he threw me over the wall, but he made the mistake of slugging me in front of a witness a few weeks after I got out of the hospital.” Her face was drawn with pain and bad memories. “He was supposed to serve five years for it, out of a longer sentence, but they let him out in three for good behavior.” She laughed without humor. “He phoned me the day he got out, demanding money again.” She looked up. The sheriff seemed unsettled. “He said some gangsters are after him for a gambling debt, and I owe him because he went to jail on my testimony.” She gave him a sardonic smile. “The photos and X-rays of my injuries were fairly convincing to the jury that convicted him.”
“Good Lord,” he said heavily. He hadn’t known all this about her. The bare facts he’d been told by her the night she was screaming from a nightmare were nebulous at best, not explicit. Despite all that, he was still just a little wary of her because of her reputation.
“I see,” she mused, studying him. “You’re still buying into my masquerade. It probably was a stupid idea, but at least it keeps most men at bay.” She wrapped her arms around herself again. “I never want to end up in a relationship like that again, and I seem to have no judgment about men at all. So it’s easier to keep them at a distance.”
He cocked his head. “I don’t quite get it.”
She gave him a worldly look. “I’m just dynamite for all men, and I judge their performances and gossip about them. I’m very vocal about my so-called ex-lovers. Most men won’t risk the damage to their reputations, so they find excuses not to pursue me. It’s a double-edged sword, but it does actually work quite well as a deterrent.” She put a hand to her back and grimaced. “Probably won’t be necessary for a lot longer. I expect the pain or the anti-inflammatories will kill me one day anyway.”
He was getting a very different picture of Ida than the one he’d carried. He did remember the screams when her neighbor called him and said Ida must be in danger. She’d met him at the door, very quiet and pale, and said that it was just a nightmare. He hadn’t questioned it or said anything much to her. She’d told him about her ex-husband, but not a great deal. Now he began to understand the nightmares.
“So that was why,” he murmured out loud.
“Excuse me?”
“
The nightmares.”
* * *
SHE RECALLED THE night he’d come to check on her. She grimaced and nodded. “Life with Bailey Trent was quite memorable,” she replied quietly. “Beatings were only the tip of the iceberg.” She looked up at him with cold eyes. “Men can be animals. Worse than animals.”
“They can,” he had to admit. “I’ve seen my share of wife beaters. I’ve locked up quite a few and sent several to prison. I hate a man who takes out his anger on a woman or a child.”
She’d heard that he was notorious for his pursuit of such offenders. It made her feel safer. “Bailey has made threats,” she said. “My attorneys in Denver have an operative who’s keeping track of him, since he lives in the city. But they felt I was in more danger here, so they insisted that I have a bodyguard. The man who spoke to you about the horse, Laredo, is the man they hired on my behalf.”
“A bodyguard.” His dark eyes narrowed and he nodded. “Not a bad idea. You’re pretty isolated here, and in bad weather, it might take us a while to get to you, even though we have chains and plenty of experience driving in snow. It’s just that accidents multiply. Some people come here from warmer climates. They don’t adjust quickly to bad road conditions.”
“I know what you mean,” she replied. “My first husband and I spent a week in the Appalachian Mountains, in north Georgia. It snowed just a couple of inches, and the local police were overwhelmed with collisions.” She shook her head. “I wonder how in the world they’d fare out here, where snow is measured in feet.”
“Badly, I expect,” he said, and he smiled for the first time. “Your bodyguard, the law firm checked him out, of course?”
“I’m sure they did,” she replied. “They’ve looked after me very well all these years. They manage my estate.”
“They’re civil attorneys, not criminal, right?”
“Right. Estate planners, things like that.”
He didn’t say anything, but he had a strange expression on his face.
“They have a firm of detectives that they employ,” she said quickly, anticipating his next remark. “It’s a very good one. They check out new employees for the firm, as well.” She smiled.
He laughed. “You read my mind.”
“Not so much.” She cocked her head. “I wouldn’t mind playing poker with you, Sheriff,” she added.
He made a face. “I’d lose my shirt. I don’t have a poker face, although I’ve tried to manage one.” His dark eyes narrowed. “If you don’t mind a personal question, how did your first husband die?”
“Suicide,” she said simply.
“It must have been a shock,” he said.
“He was a lovely man,” she recalled with a tender smile. “He was educated, talented, loved the arts. He taught me so much. I’d have done anything for him.” She drew in an angry breath. “When he died, his lover tried to sue the estate for pain and suffering. I turned my husband’s attorneys loose on him. He ended up paying court costs. He lost his shirt. He ended badly, in another relationship. I must tell you, I never shed a tear. My poor husband. He never deserved to be treated so badly, when he was such a kind and generous man.”
Cody was still assimilating all the information. It shocked him. Most women would have been furious when they found out about a husband who cheated on them. This one was outraged that her husband had been badly treated by his lover.
“As you might imagine,” she mused, “I came away from my marriage untouched. And then I met Bailey.” Her face hardened. “I was grieving for my late husband and Bailey was masculine and exciting and full of mischief. I thought he was the perfect man. I married him the second week we dated. And I learned the true meaning of physical abuse in ways I wish I could erase from my mind.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “I never dreamed a man would treat me like that.”
He was reading between the lines. He’d been in law enforcement for a long time. “After the fall from the parking lot, did you have him arrested?”
“He was at the hospital every day, bringing flowers, telling everyone how guilty he felt because he couldn’t get to me in time to save me. He was very convincing. By the time I was through the surgery and out from under the anesthesia, he’d convinced everyone on staff, including my surgeon, that he was the perfect husband. Who would believe that he picked me up and threw me over the wall?” She sighed. “I was lucky, at that, that it was only one story up and not more, and that I landed in grass and not on concrete.”
Cody cursed under his breath.
“So he made the mistake of attacking me again, in public. But this time there was a witness. He was arrested and prosecuted and sentenced. I divorced him while he was in prison, with a little help from my attorneys. And I also cut him out of my will. He may not be aware of that just yet. The injuries to my horses may be a veiled threat that I could meet with an accident that might be fatal. I wouldn’t put it past him. Hence the bodyguard.”
“I see your point. Your cowboys will know about the horses’ injuries?”
“They will. Laredo especially. He’s worked on ranches. He’s good with livestock, although I don’t think he’s really crazy about horses like I am,” she added. “He doesn’t seem to get attached to them, and he does the job, but he’s not, well, affectionate toward them.”
He chuckled. “A lot of men have trouble expressing affection.”
“My first husband didn’t,” she said softly. “He was always hugging me, bringing me things, spoiling me. I couldn’t figure out why he never kissed me or wanted to be a true husband to me. I was very naive and very sheltered. I thought I must smell bad or look repulsive to him or something,” she recalled with a sad smile. “I didn’t know the truth until he died. He left me the sweetest note.” She stopped, choking up. It took her a minute to recover, during which she averted wet eyes and a grieving expression. “He left everything to me, and there was a lot. Stocks, bonds, property, the business.” She sighed. “I’d rather have had him.”
He had a new image of her. She was charming him, without even trying. “How do you manage the business?”
“I don’t. My degree is in physics, not business, so I hired a manager for the business and my attorneys handle everything to do with the property and stocks and CDs.”
“Physics?” he burst out.
She flushed. “Well, yes.”
“Where did you study physics?”
The flush deepened. “MIT.”
“And you’re living on a little ranch in Wyoming?” he asked, aghast.
“I don’t like cities,” she said, “and I’m no teacher. I loved math. I was good at trig and calculus, and I absolutely adored Stephen Hawking and Michio Kaku.”
“Theoretical physics,” he mused.
She nodded. “Albert Einstein was my idol when I was in college. Amazing, what he was able to conceive in his head.”
“An extraordinary man,” he agreed. He shook his head. “You’re not what you seem.”
She laughed. “Who is?”
He got up. “Well, I’ll go talk to your cowboys. My investigator quit and went back East, and I’ve just hired a new one, but he’s not due here until tomorrow. Meanwhile, I’m doing my own investigating and leaving minor duties to my undersheriff and my five deputies. It’s hectic.”
“Sheriff Banks,” she said, worried that she’d told him so much about herself. “What I told you...”
“Is privileged information,” he said, and with a smile. “I don’t gossip.”
“Thanks,” she said. She drew in a breath. “I haven’t spoken of it in years. Only a few people know. But I never went into detail.” She looked up at him. “I know that people in law enforcement see terrible things. This isn’t something I’d feel comfortable talking about, to most people.” She smiled shyly. “Thanks for listening.”
“It wasn’t a problem,” he replied.
&
nbsp; She started to get up, obviously in pain.
“Stay there,” he said gently. “You don’t need to come with me. I’ll stop by after I’ve spoken to the men, and I’ll let myself in, if that’s all right with you.”
She swallowed, hard. He was a kind man. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He tipped his hat again and went out the door. Incredible woman, he was thinking, and if her ex-husband set foot in Carne County, Cody was going to arrange to have him followed if he had to hire a man out of his own pocket. Nobody was hurting that woman again, not on his watch.
* * *
IDA WAS STILL sitting where he’d left her when he came back in after a perfunctory knock.
“Your men corroborated what you told me. Your bodyguard agrees that the injuries aren’t consistent with accidental injury. I’m going to speak to your vet, as well, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t,” she replied. “I worry about my breeding pair, Silver and Gold. Gold was the first to be injured, and she’s still recuperating. Silver is her mate. They’re special. I’m fond of all my horses, but those two...” She ground her teeth together. “I’m worried sick about Silver...”
“Let me take them both over to Ren Colter’s ranch for you. He has state-of-the-art protection for his horses and he hates the thought of anybody who’d injure a helpless animal. He has J.C. Calhoun working for him. Calhoun, like a number of Ren’s employees, is an ex-mercenary. They protected Ren’s wife from a contract killer some years ago.”
“It would be an imposition...”
He chuckled. “I took the liberty of calling Ren, out on the porch before I came in. He said he’d send his men over with two horse trailers for your palominos. He has a place for both of them in his stables. They’re incredible. I’ve never seen such facilities in my life. I wouldn’t mind living in them myself. And he has a twenty-four-hour guard on his horses. He runs a few breeding stallions and mares, worth a fortune.”
“What kind of horses does he have?”
“The usual saddle horses, but he’s become fond of Friesians, and he breeds them.”