Lone Star Rancher (13 page)

“Right,” Leslie said. “You stood up for us and insisted
that we make up our own minds about what we wanted to do. You even agreed to pay for tuition and babysitting if I wanted to go to college. I've never forgotten how generous you were.”

“I had a lot of money by then,” Jessica reminded her sister airily. “I liked throwing it around to show what a big wheel I was.”

Leslie cracked up at this claim. “Yeah, right.”

Clyde turned and leaned against the counter, one eyebrow going up in a quizzical fashion at her statement.

“Hold on,” Jessica said into the phone. To Clyde she said, “This is Leslie. We're heading for the city today. I want to get an outfit for the wedding.”

“What about the marriage license?” he asked.

She gaped at him in surprise. “I thought we'd agreed to wait until we knew…until later,” she finished lamely.

“Is that Clyde?” Leslie demanded in her ear. “Did he say marriage license? For you two? What's going on?”

“Nothing,” Jessica said into the phone. “Hold on.” She laid her palm over the receiver. “Could we discuss this later?” she requested.

He shrugged, but his stare was dark and rather moody, as if displeased about the whole situation. She hadn't agreed to actually get the license. Had she? She tried to recall their conversations on the subject, but Leslie was yammering excitedly about wedding plans for them.

“Leslie,” she said firmly into the phone. “Clyde and I are not getting married.”

“But you have discussed the possibility, haven't you?”

It wasn't really a question. Her sister had already leaped to a hundred conclusions about them, ninety-nine of them wrong.

Another idea came to Leslie. “Ohmigosh, Jess, are you pregnant?”

It was, of course, the one thing she was right about.

“I'll talk to you later,” Jessica promised while a storm cloud settled in Clyde's eyes.

“I'll pick you up in a hour, okay?” her sister said. “I expect a full accounting of recent events.”

“Yes, yes, that's fine. I'll see you then.” She hit the off button and picked up her coffee cup. She hid behind the steamy vapor rising from it as she sipped and waited for the inquisition from her host.

Clyde glanced at the microwave clock. “I need a part for the tractor. If I go to the dealer's place and pick it up this morning, I can meet you and your sister in San Antonio for lunch around one.”

“That would be nice,” she said, doubt in every word.

His eyebrow rose slightly, mirroring his skeptical attitude. “Then we can get the marriage license.”

“I thought we'd agreed to take it one day at a time until we know for sure what the future holds.”

His broad chest rose and fell in an exasperated breath. “I like things settled. Besides, we have to think of the child.”

As if that wasn't the first thing she thought of each morning and the last thing at night! Well, maybe there were a couple of other things that occurred to her at night.

His scowl grew more pronounced. “What's so funny?”

“Us.”

She held her smile, inviting him to see the humor in the situation. Finally he shook his head while a grin reluctantly bloomed on his handsome face. “Babies complicate things.”

“I didn't realize how much,” she admitted. “I thought sex was supposed to be simple in this day and age, sort of ‘and a good time was had by all' event. This puts a whole new spin on it, doesn't it?”

“Yeah.” He brushed his fingers through his hair, then rubbed the back of his neck. “Funny, but having a kid appeals to me. I've never thought much about it. That was Jack's department. Steven, Miles and I were the diehard bachelors.”

“Well, I've certainly learned my lesson,” she continued wryly. “Use proper caution in all things.”

“No more losing your head at the lake, huh?” he murmured, surprising her with the teasing tone.

“Absolutely not.” She checked the time. “I'd better eat, then get ready. Leslie will be here soon.” She paused. “Are you really going to meet us at lunch?”

He waved the idea aside. “I'll let you girls have your fun. Just how much are you going to tell your sister about what happened between us?”

“I think I'll have to tell all, or else she'll hound me to death about the marriage license.”

“Should I be ready for a visit from your outraged parents?”

She smiled and shook her head. “She won't tell. Sisters always stick together.”

“Just like brothers. We always covered for each other with the parents.”

“With three of you, it would be a natural thing to do.” Her eyes opened wide. “Clyde,” she said in a shaken voice, “what do we do if…we have triplets?”

He, too, was obviously startled by the thought. “Call in reinforcements, I suppose.”

They stared at each other for a long second, then burst into laughter, as if it were the funniest thing either had ever heard.

 

Twilight had fallen by the time Leslie and Jessica neared the ranch. They had made a full day of the shopping trip to San Antonio, lingering for two hours over lunch and catching up on all the little details of each other's lives.

They'd shopped at large department stores and tiny boutiques until they'd found just the right outfits.

Glancing behind them, Jessica noted the vehicle that had stayed an even distance behind them for several miles. She wondered if it was Clyde, coming back from his trip to get the tractor part. A smile sprang to her lips.

Tired but happy, she breathed deeply and let her mind drift as her sister turned onto the ranch driveway, then stopped close to the house.

“I hate for the day to end,” Leslie said.

“Me, too.” Jessica climbed out and gathered her packages—the dress and a pair of pumps—before leaning back inside the car and giving Leslie a buss on the cheek. “I can't remember when I've had such a lovely day.”

“Same here.”

After Leslie swung the car around and headed back down the drive, Jessica noticed the other car had gone by the ranch drive and was heading on down the road. Not Clyde, then. She wondered where he was. The house was dark.

Her good feelings diminished a bit as she entered the back door and flicked on the lights in the kitchen. Seeing a note on the refrigerator, she read it and discovered her host had gone to Austin to try and find the part he needed.

Knowing why he wasn't at the house made her feel much better. Frowning at herself for reacting to his absence, she went upstairs, hung her new dress in the closet, then slipped into her gown and robe. She still had that thick biography to finish.

And only three days left to do it, she realized. Thursday, after the wedding, she would move to her parents' home in Austin. She'd called and they were expecting her.

Halfway across the room, she stopped abruptly and stared at the bed. Her heart stopped, then raced like an Indy
500 car. “Oh-h-h,” she murmured as an irrepressible smile spread over her face.

On her pillow lay one perfect rose, deep pink and exquisitely beautiful.

She sank down on the side of the bed and lifted the flower, holding it between her breasts as she inhaled its delicate scent. It was from a bush growing beside the walkway in front of the house. All the thorns had been removed along the stem.

That was so like Clyde, she mused, closing her eyes, which suddenly stung with tears as a welter of emotions ran through her. He was a protective man, and a caring one. He would be a wonderful husband and father.

Inhaling the delicate fragrance of the rose, she thought of their laughter that morning when they'd realized they could have triplets. That moment and the shared laughter had signaled a change between them. For that instant, they'd shared a sweet closeness as they'd realized exactly what fate could have in store for them.

More than anything she'd ever wanted, she realized she wanted him in her life, in her arms, her heart. Perhaps it was time to tell him that very thing. Her heart singing, she put the rose in a glass of water and prepared to wait up for his return, no matter how late that was.

A
rriving home shortly after dark that night, Clyde frowned upon spotting the open pasture gate. It wasn't like his brother to forget something as important as a gate.

Hmm, Miles had taken the RV and moved to the northern sector of the ranch to join the ranch hands in combing the gullies and ravines of the rough country for cattle. The gate hadn't been open at that time. They would have noticed it. That left Jessica.

He tried to excuse her carelessness due to lack of knowledge, but she was a local girl. She knew the value of stock and the importance of secure fences and gates.

If she didn't do it, that left rustlers as the likely culprits. He would have to check it out.

A perfect ending to a perfect day. It had started out on a wrong note and gotten worse from there. He'd had to chase all over the state to find a replacement part for the
tractor. Now he'd have to chase all over the county if the cattle had gotten out.

Or call the sheriff if they'd been stolen. He sighed. That would make for a long night.

He glanced at the house as he stepped down from the truck and headed for the gate. Lights were on downstairs, and another gleamed from Jessica's room. He wondered if she was still awake. It wasn't all that late—a bit after ten.

As usual, everything in his body came alive at the thought of her. He smiled as he thought of her shock at the idea of triplets. It was possible, he supposed.

He grabbed the gate and swung it shut with a clang, hearing the latch snap securely into place.

At that moment, another sound caught his attention. He turned his head and heard an odd
thud
that seemed to echo through his skull. An explosion of pain followed, then the night closed around him, smothering the last desperate thought in his mind.

Jessica.

 

Jessica listened, but didn't hear anything. She laid the book aside, pulled on her soft slippers and went downstairs to check for Clyde. It was long past time for him to return. She glanced at the clock on the stove. After ten.

Not that she was worried. Clyde could certainly take care of himself.

After making a cup of tea, she paced restlessly to the window and peered into the night. Ah, the pickup truck was visible as a silhouette against the outside light mounted on a tall pole beside the barn.

Her heart went into a nosedive.

Giving herself a good scolding for being concerned about his late arrival, she picked up the teacup and headed
for the stairs. She didn't want to be caught hovering at the door like an anxious wife.

Her frown softened when her gaze fell on the lovely rose she'd placed on the bedside table. An idea came to her.

Without giving herself time for second thoughts, she propped herself on the pillows, arranged her nightgown in demure folds down to her ankles and then, smiling wickedly, she tucked the rose into the gown so that it nestled in the valley between her breasts. She smoothed her hair so that it lay in a shining mass over each shoulder.

Excitement pounded a heady refrain in time with her heart when she felt a draft of air swirl into the room. She hadn't heard the back door open and close, but she knew Clyde had entered the house.

Because there might be a child and because he was the one who'd mentioned marriage, she thought it was time they had a serious talk, not only about the future, but about what they honestly felt for each other.

Hearing a creak of wood from the steps, she took a deep breath and called, “Clyde?”

Nothing but silence replied for long moments.

She listened intently for his approach to her door, but it never came.

Nothing.

Without quite knowing how she knew, she was positive he was standing just outside her door. She opened her mouth to call his name again, then stopped.

A chill, like cold, bony fingers, stroked her neck. Whoever was out there wasn't Clyde. She knew it instinctively. She rose and pulled on her slippers and the blue robe. Her heart beat fast, but this time it was from some deeply in-grained fear for survival.

She crossed the room and slipped silently into the closet. Crouching behind the all-purpose raincoat, she placed her
suitcase so that it blocked her lower legs from view. Then she waited.

A whisper of sound warned her that someone was in the bedroom. She forced her breath into a quiet rhythm of calm.

She heard a soft click. Light appeared under the closet door. The prowler had flicked on the bathroom light.

The silence was followed by two quick steps, then the closet door was wrenched open and thrown back on its hinges so hard it hit the doorstop with a loud bang.

She flinched but made no noise.

A moment stretched into an eternity, then the fear eased. She realized he'd left. Ever so slowly, she leaned past the raincoat sleeve and peered out.

The closet door had been left open. She could see most of the bedroom. No one was there.

A sound from the gallery told her the intruder was heading toward Clyde's bedroom. She eased out of her hiding place, tiptoed to the door, then cautiously peered out. She saw nothing.

Not wasting a second, she ran silently down the steps, careful of the one that sometimes squeaked. She made it to the bottom step. There, she stepped on a hammer—where had that come from?—tripped and fell to her hands and knees on the floor. In a flash she was up and running for the door.

Hoping to delay the prowler, she flicked out the lights she'd left on inside the house for Clyde and yanked open the door. Footsteps running along the gallery warned her that she didn't have much time. She headed for the creek.

For once she was grateful for darkness. The waning moon was only a sliver in the night sky. Ducking behind a tall photinia shrub, she kept it between her and the house as she sprinted for the trees along the noisy stream.

Something cold touched her hand. She jerked and stifled a scream. “Smoky,” she said, her heart in her throat.

The dog ran ahead of her, stopped, then leaped at the flying hem of her robe as she passed him.

“No,” she said on a gasp.

He dropped his tail at the reprimand and loped along beside her, apparently thinking they were having a jog as they often did during the afternoon.

Upon reaching the trees, Jessica stopped and leaned a hand against the rough bark of one while she looked behind and checked on the whereabouts of the prowler.

The stalker, she corrected.

The same instincts that had told her to run also identified the man in the house as Roy Balter, the one who had haunted her in New York until she'd run away.

She pressed a hand to her breast. The rose was gone. It must have fallen while she ran. Useless tears misted her vision for a second. How stupid of her to think Clyde had given her the eternal symbol of love.

Blinking, she spotted a shadow moving from the photinia bush to the path she'd followed to the creek. He moved swiftly but with surefooted ease in an easy lope that ate up the distance. She headed straight into the creek.

The water rose to her knees, then to midthigh. She held her gown and robe up as best she could. A gasp escaped her when she slid on a slick rock and hit her knee on another. Pushing upright from a larger boulder, she held on to it while she found her footing, then made it out of the water and to shore once more.

Behind her, she heard Smoky whine as he ran along the edge of the creek, then a splash as he leaped in so he could follow her.

She didn't wait, but ran as fast as she ever had up the hill that obscured the egg barn and beyond that, Clinton's house. She would find refuge there.

Halfway up the hill, Smoky caught up and raced along be
side her, no longer thinking this was a game. He seemed to know the pack was in trouble and kept glancing behind them.

When Jessica looked back, she saw the dark shadow of the man coming up the hill at an incredible pace. He wore all black and only his face and hands gleamed in the inky darkness like those of a dismembered ghost.

Fear gave her an adrenaline boost, but she couldn't keep ahead. As she neared the top of the hill, she heard his steps right behind her. With one more burst of speed, she broached the hillock.

That was as far as she got.

Her wrist was caught in an iron clasp. He wrenched her arm upward in a sharp angle and pressed it against her back. She fell on her face into the grass.

Beside her, Smoky whimpered near her ear and leaped around in nervous excitement.

“Got you,” Roy said, his voice low but triumphant.

She tried to push upright, but his knee settled in the center of her back, trapping her hand under it so she couldn't move her right arm. His weight increased, slowly pressing the air from her lungs.

“Leave me alone,” she said fiercely. “I haven't done anything to you. Leave me alone.”

He gathered her hair into one hand and pulled, lifting her head at a painful tilt. Leaning down, he smiled into her face like a feral animal finally catching its prey.

“You're mine,” he whispered. “You ran away. Now you must be punished.”

He stroked along her throat with something cold and thin. She realized he had a knife.

For a split second she thought of Clyde and their child and a future that would never be.

Closing out the despair, she sought calm. “What do you
want?” she asked, hoping to buy time to find a way out of this nightmare.

He laughed. “Heh, heh-heh.”

Her skin crawled at the familiar sound. Hatred flooded through her, a riptide of anger, fear and outrage that he should do this to her.

“Get off me!” Ignoring pain in her arm and scalp, she thrust herself to the side. New pain lanced through her shoulder, but she managed to unseat him, then kick him, her heel landing with a solid thud on his chin.

“Bitch,” he snarled.

She rolled away, helped by the downward slope of the hill. “Get him, Smoky! Get him!”

Leaping to her feet, she surprised her attacker by charging into him at high speed and again caught him on the chin, this time with the full force of her raised knee.

Smoky, barking excitedly, leaped on, too.

“Damn dog,” Roy said, then cursed as Smoky sunk his teeth into the man's forearm and held on.

Jessica skirted the struggling pair and headed for the Perez home. Its windows were dark, but she was sure they were home since this was a weekday and the kids had school the next day. She ran like the wind, as if a thousand demons were on her heels.

Behind her, she heard sudden, sharp yelps of pain from Smoky and remembered the cold steel of the knife at her throat. Sorrow joined all the other emotions that throbbed in her. She was sure Roy had stabbed the dog. The harsh cries of the injured animal continued as she set her sights and all her remaining energy on reaching the house.

“Clinton!” she screamed when she was near enough that they might hear. “Cimma! Help! Help!”

A light came on inside. Then another. And another. Everyone was awake.

The front door opened just as she stumbled over the porch. She fell inside and into Clinton's arms.

“Call the police,” she said, gasping for breath and holding her aching side. “A man…the stalker…”

“It's all right,” Clinton said. “Cimma's on the phone with the sheriff now. Nothing's going to hurt you.”

Holding his arm, she pushed herself upright. That was when she noticed both the teenage son and daughter held rifles in their hands. Their serious young faces indicated they were ready to use them.

“Thank goodness,” she said and, to her shame, began to weep.

 

Clyde fought wave after wave of nausea and pain. There was one thought in his mind. Find Jessica.

He didn't know who attacked him, whether it was something as simple as a rustler or if it was her stalker, but he knew in his bones that she was in danger.

Pushing himself to his knees, he held on to the fence and got to his feet. The lights went off in the house at the instant he turned in that direction.

A ghostly shape ran across the patio and disappeared on the path to the creek. Shortly after that, another figure ran in the same direction.

His brain reeling like that of a drunk, he lunged after the fleeing twosome. The pain in his head was no worse than that in his heart. He'd failed to keep his word. He'd failed to protect Jessica from the madman who was hunting her. He'd even wondered for a time if there was a madman.

“Dear God,” he murmured.

That was all he could get out, but it was a prayer for her safety, that he could get to her in time.

Thought disappeared as seconds stretched into agoniz
ing moments. His head pounded with each footfall, so hard it felt as if an artery would burst if he didn't stop.

He kept on, knowing a grimness of spirit like none other he'd ever experienced.

Jessica. Jessica.

Her name echoed inside him with each step he took.

Save her. Must save her,
some fierce unforgiving part of him repeated over and over.

He heard her scream for help when he reached the creek. He stumbled into the water, fell, rose and pushed on in a half crouch, using both hands to steady himself across the slippery rocks.

As he cleared the line of trees on the other side, he heard a sound that turned his blood cold—the horrible yelp of an animal injured beyond bearing.

“Bastard,” he muttered and rushed up the hill at a desperate run. Pain disappeared. A red haze shrouded his mind so that he felt nothing now but a rage so deep it reached his soul.

When he topped the hill, he found only one person. Roy Balter drew his hand back again, ready to plunge the knife into the dog once more.

Clyde leaped at the stalker in a flying tackle he hadn't tried since he'd played college football. He and the villain met in a deadly tangle of arms and legs and the slashing blade.

Clyde rolled on top. He smashed Roy in the mouth. “For Jessica,” he said. He hit him again. “For Smoky.” A third time. “For all the others you've frightened and hurt.”