Cowboy on the Run (19 page)

“The horse is nice, too, but, I meant your girlfriend. She’s pretty,” Taylor said, recapturing his attention. The boy climbed the fence, setting himself on the top rail. Ben, now his best buddy, joined him, while Justin claimed the space to Nate’s left.

“Who’s pretty?” Ben asked, curious and full of questions.

Nate couldn’t help but smile when looking at the kid. The boy was a mess, with his unkempt hair and long gangly legs. He was the ideal picture of a typical thirteen year old, too talkative, and way too inquisitive for his own good.

Justin, however, still positioned on the other side of him, remained quiet. The kid was always quiet; he hadn’t uttered more than one word at a time for the past several weeks he’d been on the ranch.

“Nate’s girlfriend, dork,” Taylor interjected, responding before Nate had a chance too.

“Yeah, she’s pretty, all right,” Ben continued their conversation, his expression distant and starry eyed.

A blow of jealousy caught Nate off guard. He was in real trouble if the harmless reaction from an adolescent teenager could trigger such an intense emotion.

“Jessie? She’s the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Taylor remarked.

Nate allowed the envious emotion to simmer a bit. The kid was right. His thoughts drifted back to the creek, inviting the memory of her smooth, velvet skin and the floral scent of her hair to resurface.

Embarrassed at the direction of his thoughts, Nate directed the subject away from her. “What do you two know about girls anyway?”

Both boys turned their head at the same time. The abrupt movement caused Ben to lose his balance and slide off the rail. Unaffected by his fall, he scampered back up the fence posts.

“I know Ben’s sister is hot,” Taylor stated, causing the boy to fall off the rail again.

“Katy? She’s not hot. She’s my sister,” Ben snapped, steadily climbing to his perch with purpose. Once positioned, he punched his friend in the arm.

“Ow,” the teen yelped, but wasn’t dissuaded. “Your sister
is
hot. But Nate’s girl, she’s pretty. You know, like good enough to marry.”

Both boys again turned their focus to Nate, and his face burned hot under their intense scrutiny.

“Are you going to marry her?” Ben asked.

Nate shifted his weight again. He wasn’t ready for this kind of deep conversation, not even with himself; although, marrying Jessie had crossed his mind with a consistent frequency. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And now was his chance—more than likely the one chance he would ever get. If only he could get her to trust him completely. There had to be a chink in her armor.

“To be honest with you guys, I am going to marry her.” The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think about them. Surprisingly, it felt right. “As a matter-of-fact, after we pick out a couple more horses, maybe you three might want to help me find the perfect ring.”

“Cool.” The two boys said in unison.

Nate glanced to his right at Justin who remained quiet, but he received a silent nod in approval.

“So, how does the horse over there look? She’s a real beaut’.” Taylor pointed to a chestnut filly, causing a laughing fit between him and Ben.

Nate snickered to himself while Justin remained solemn, shaking his head in exasperation at the other boy’s silly antics.

After all was said and done, Nate purchased twelve horses for the ranch. The agreement honored by a solid handshake from the cowboy who sold him the horses and a promise they would be delivered to the ranch on the following afternoon.

Which left the jewelry store. The only one he knew of would take them into the city. He’d seen too many big cities too count and never felt comfortable in them. Too much traffic, too many people.

However, on a good note, he would lose his tail, at least for an hour or two. Waving a smart-ass goodbye to Deputy Andrews, he and the boys jumped into the truck and headed for the big city of Boise.

The jewelry store was a little more difficult than he’d anticipated, with its overwhelming array of choices, the endless display cases and a snobby sales clerk.

It was Justin who spotted the perfect rings. Jessie’s, a simple white gold band with a princess cut solitaire diamond, and his, more like a lasso, the gold band braided and rope-like, which was the part the boy liked most.

Justin pretended as if he had an invisible rope and tossed it around Nate. The embellished act, a silly side of the teen, made him grin.

Ben and Taylor rolled around the floor of the shop in a fit of uncontrolled giggles, despite the stern look the sales clerk shot them. He had a strong inclination Jessie would get a real kick out of it also. Smiling, he handed the clerk his credit card.

Justin tugged on his sleeve as he signed the slip. When he looked down, the boy gave a thumbs up motion for encouragement. Nate smiled, nudging him with his elbow. He was getting used to Justin’s ways, despite the earlier antics directed at his expense.

On the way home, less than two miles after passing the county line, Nate caught the flashing of red and blue lights in his rearview mirror and pulled over. He hadn’t heard the siren, but Taylor had and started reciting a well-rehearsed speech about what to do and what not to do when pulled over by the police. The teen then filtered through the glove compartment.

Confused, Nate asked, “What are you searching for?”

“I found it! The registration. You need this and your license. And you guys...be cool, huh?” Taylor shoved the paper at him with a shaky hand.

Nate locked gazes with the teen, reading fear in the boy’s stare. He attempted to calm the youth down. “Hey, it’s gonna be fine. This is no big deal, got it?” Taylor nodded his head and Nate accepted the form. He reached for his wallet and pulled out his license.

The teen checked his seat belt, then turned to the back seat and pulled on the straps across the other two boys.

Ben, irritated his belt was too tight, punched Taylor in the head. “Knock it off.” He punched him again, his too long arm swinging at an awkward angle in the cab of the truck. “What’s your problem?”

“Both of you knock it off,” Nate snapped with authority, rolling down his window.

Smirk in place, Deputy Andrews appeared on the other side of the glass. Despite it being a different day, the policeman’s demeanor had not changed.

Nate breathed in a deep sigh, bracing himself for the cop’s condescending nature.

“Hello, Mr. Walker,” the officer said.

His voice grated on Nate’s nerves like dull sandpaper.

“Deputy,” he acknowledged, handing over his license and registration without waiting for the man to request them.

The policeman accepted them with a grim smile, scanning over the paperwork. “Hmm, this truck appears to be registered to a James Walker. Is he any relation to you?”

He nodded in irritation. The Deputy knew all too well who his father was.

“Yeah, my dad. I haven’t had a chance to change it over since he passed. Is that a problem, sir?” he spat out, angry at himself for not putting the truck in his own name yet. A small detail he’d forgotten with everything else going on in his life.

“No, you’ll just need to get that done. It’s not the reason I pulled you over anyway. I’ve been meaning to take a little trip out to your ranch.” The officer peeked into the truck, eyeing the three boys with a distrustful stare. “I just wanted to give you an update on the Jimmy Greenwood case.” His gaze returned to him, studying his face. “Mr. Greenwood is still missing. It’s quite the enigma. You wouldn’t happen to have any more information on his disappearance, would you? Perhaps something you’d forgotten or left out?”

The deputy leaned in closer, searching his expression, his elbow braced on the window frame. He was now standing close enough for Nate to see flecks of yellow in his shrewd, brown eyes.

Exposed, as if he was under a microscope, he wondered if criminals felt the same way. “No I don’t, Deputy Andrews.” Wasn’t this a violation of his rights? Perhaps harassment? “Is that all?”

“Yes, Mr. Walker. Just make sure you register this truck in your own name.” The lawman returned his license and registration, and then stepped back. “I’d hate to have to pull you over again for such a minor infraction.”

Nate scowled, certain the officer wanted to pull him over for any sort of infraction. He handed the registration back to Taylor to return to the glove box and slipped his license into his wallet, keeping a keen eye on the deputy walking back to his patrol car.

This Jimmy Greenwood thing was starting to become a real thorn in his side, one he had no time for. Who knew where the loser had run off to? He certainly didn’t know. Nor did he care.

Nate shifted the gear shift into drive. The patrol car continued to follow him for fifteen minutes or so before pulling off.

“So, what’s the scoop, Taylor? Why did you freak out back there?” Nate narrowed his stare, trying to zoom in on the white lines on the highway. Dusk had fallen quickly, and he kicked on his high beams.

“Yeah,” Taylor said, glancing down at his hands in obvious embarrassment. “My dad used to always get pulled over by the cops...like every day. Usually, the cops just let him go...you know, after a ticket or a few words...but then one day they didn’t. I haven’t seen him since. It’s been going on six years now,” he confessed.

Nate shot Taylor a concerned glance. Even in the darkened cab, he could see the slight tremble of the boy’s lip.

The kid had been scared. Damn Deputy Andrews.

Seeing lights approaching in his rearview mirror, he scowled. And here the man came again. Nate slowed down, certain the officer had every intention of pulling him over. He soon realized the headlights weren’t from a police vehicle. Hell, they weren’t even headlights, more like spotlights...and they were coming up fast on his tail.

“Boys, brace yourselves,” he yelled, sparing a quick glance at the teenagers. Without thinking, Nate gazed into the rear view mirror again. A fatal error. The thought crashed and burned as he was blinded by the illumination. No longer able to judge the distance of the truck, he gripped the steering wheel tightly and prepared for the worst.

Unrelenting steel rammed his pick-up’s aged, rusty bumper, crunching the metal like a cheap tin can. The hard shove pummeled his vehicle forward. Swerving, the tires on the old truck squealed in resistance pulling toward the gravel bank. Without warning, the truck hammered into his tailgate again with such force he lost control of the steering.

Nate’s vehicle stopped with a sudden jolt as it struck the ditch, his skull cracking off the hard plastic steering wheel. Stunned by an explosion of lights, he winced, holding his head. Ignoring the blinding pain, he spun around and searched the back seat of the double cab.

Justin returned his stare blankly. Ben, a little less shocked, was already free from his seatbelt and staring out the back window. Nate’s view focused on Taylor.

The boy returned his stare with scared, wide eyes. “You’re bleeding,” Taylor stated, his voice shaky.

It took a full minute before the words registered, realizing the teen was talking about him. He felt a trickle of liquid run down his cheek, and he wiped at it with his fingers.

“Yeah, I guess I am,” Nate said numbly, staring at the red, sticky substance. He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the nightmare. As soon as he opened them again, a sharp stab of pain shot through his head. This wasn’t a dream.

Tires crunching against gravel caught his attention, and he turned to focus on the sound.

In slow motion, a large, black truck crept by, offering him a glimpse of a shadowed figure through the dark-tinted windows. Frustrated, Nate tried to focus on the license plate, only seeing a blur of letters and numbers. The one thing he had been able to see clearly was a large deer sticker on the back window.

He wiped at the blood with his sleeve, then got out of the truck to see how bad the vehicle was damaged. The old Chevy wasn’t stuck, just beat up a little more than before. He figured he’d have no problem backing the truck up and getting it on the road again.

In a minute.

Swaying, he lost his balance and stumbled. The soft padding of the tall grass caught his fall, and he embraced the smell of dirt and green meadows. Where the hell was Deputy Andrews now? Better yet...what the hell had just happened? The truck, one he had never seen before, kept inserting itself into his head.

What was it about the vehicle that stuck out like a bad memory? Was it the deer outline? No, he couldn’t recall seeing the truck before, and he would have remembered it with the high lift kit and large mud tires.

Then it dawned on him—the spotlight. Hunters used the illegal lights to stun deer.

Or to witness fires
, he thought, recalling Jessie’s haunted words on the night her barn burned down.

Chapter 23

Nate couldn’t sleep, and blamed his restlessness on the lack of loud, snoring noises coming from the room down the hall. Without Doyle’s nighttime noisy rumble, the quiet of his house was eerie and uncanny. Although, his not being able to sleep wasn’t because of the absence of his friend.

Damn it!
The quiet of the house was too loud, deafening with its silence. He could hear every thought in his head. And every time he closed his eyes, he saw the blinding lights of the truck coming fast in his rear view mirror, or Jessie standing in the middle of the fire.

Was someone trying to kill her? Him? There were just too many coincidences with the stampede, her barn burning down and the truck running him off the road. The truth was beyond frightening, daunting in fact. And thus the lack of sleep and a leftover headache.

Nate tossed his covers back, threw on a pair of blue jeans and slid his feet into his favorite pair of boots. He refused to spend another night tossing and turning as images of Jessie in danger rushed through his head. The walls of his childhood room caved in on him, stealing his breath. He needed air, open skies.

Still bare-chested, he grabbed his denim jacket off the hook by the front door on his way out, unconsciously searching for the black velvet box in his coat jacket.