Lonestar Sanctuary (7 page)

What on earth had Jon seen in Rick to recommend him so highly? All she saw was a muscle-bound jerk who looked at her like she was a
cow patty under his boots.

Still, it took guts to make an offer like that.

His solution hung out there, tantalizing and repelling at the same
time. It would work, there was no doubt in her mind. Betsy would be
safe from any custody suit. But what a price to pay. Allie didn't know
if she had it in her to make that kind of sacrifice, even for Betsy.

There had to be another way.

She rolled onto her side and stared at the hump in the bed next to
hers. Her daughter enjoyed the sleep of the innocent. Betsy's deep,
easy breathing should have eased the tension humming along Allie's
veins, but something was off. She strained to hear the sounds outside:
the crunch of horse hooves in the paddock outside, the shuffle of cattle
in the pasture, the wind chimes tinkling in the night breeze.

He couldn't have found her already. The sense of something lurking outside was her imagination. Rick's preposterous suggestion had
put her out of kilter.

Though all the sounds were normal, she swung her feet out of bed
and moved to the window. The breeze lifted the gauzy curtains and
brushed them against her cheek with a touch as light as spiderwebs.
She shivered and pushed the fabric away, but the wind blew it right
back against her. Moving them out of her way, she stepped to the
screen and looked down on the bucolic scene, illuminated by the
moon and the security lights.

The remuda of horses stood in a corral west of the barn. Huddled
together against the chill that had swept down off the mountain with
the setting of the sun, they dozed on their feet. A few head of cattle
lay nestled on the other side of the fence. The two trucks sat silent and
empty on the far side of the barn.

Nothing stirred but the wind.

Then why did the hair on the back of Allie's neck stand out? Why
did she feel if she breathed someone would hear? Something had awakened her, but nothing in the barnyard below gave any cause for concern.

Then she heard a sound that stole the oxygen from her lungs. The
bloodcurdling scream pierced her eardrums.

Someone was in trouble.

In her bare feet, she leaped for the door and threw it open. The tile
chilled her toes. Her feet pounded down the steps, then she was at the
front door. She threw it open and stepped out onto the porch. The
scream came again, and she shuddered. The poor woman was in deadly
peril. Did no one else hear? Why wasn't Rick out here too? Or Elijah?

"Rick, Elijah, help!" she yelled up the steps.

Maybe they were exhausted from lack of sleep tonight. She needed
a gun. Whirling, she dashed back inside and grabbed the key from the
top of the gun cabinet. Twisting it in the lock, she threw open the cabinet and lifted out a shotgun. The shells were on the top shelf. She
grabbed a handful, jammed two into the gun, then relocked the cabinet.

The moon illuminated the outdoor scene. The horses moved restlessly in their paddock. Their skittishness spooked her even more. The
scream didn't come again, but Allie had localized it just past the big
rock at the edge of the piiion grove. She stepped off the porch. Her
toe slammed against a rock, and she winced.

Jem, the ranch border collie, whined and touched his nose to her
hand. The warm contact strengthened her. "Come with me, Jem," she
whispered, slipping her fingers under his collar. Limping, she picked
up the pace. At the grove, the trees blocked out the moonlight, and
she hesitated before stepping into the darkness. She should have brought
a flashlight. Maybe she should wait for the men.

The unearthly scream came again. Were there ghosts in these mountains? She'd heard of the Marfa lights, the centuries-old unexplained
phenomenon of lights with no apparent origin.

The men were slow. Some protectors they were.

She pointed the gun and sidled toward the trees, inhaling the
scents of vegetation. "Where are you? Are you hurt?" The trees
bounced her voice back in her face. There was no other sound beyond
normal night noises. She stepped cautiously away from the safety of
the clearing and farther into the darkness. Her own breathing sounded
harsh and fast.

A twig snapped behind her. The sound of rushing steps came
toward her, and she whirled to run. Before she made it two steps,
someone grabbed her. In several quick moves, hard hands flipped her
around, yanked the gun from her hand, and pinned her against the
bark of a pine tree.

It was too dark to make out more than a hulking shape. "Let go of
me," she said, jerking her arm in the man's grip.

"What do you think you're doing?" Rick's voice was a low growl.

She should have been relieved it was only him, but her terror
fueled anger instead. "Get your hands off me."

His big hands lifted from her shoulders. "What in the sam hill are
you doing wandering outside with a mountain lion on the prowl?"

"Mountain lion?" She clutched the fabric of her shirt in her fists.
"I -I heard what I thought was a woman screaming"

"Oh brother." He grabbed her arm and hustled her back toward
the porch. "You don't have any shoes on either. You want to get snake
bit or stung by a scorpion?"

"Wrong time of year," she said, dragging up a bit of defiance.
How stupid of her. A mountain lion. She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see yellow eyes or a large cat springing toward them, but
there was only darkness. "Wait, what about the rifle?"

"Leave it."

"We can't leave it. Betsy might find it." She jerked her arm out of
his grip. "You threw it down. Where is it?"

"Feel free to get it. I don't carry a firearm. Not for any reason."

A cowboy that didn't carry a rifle? What did he do about snakes
and other varmints? If only the moonlight were brighter here in the
trees. She'd like to study his expression and try to determine what was
behind his odd statement. His voice was as prickly as a cactus too.

She retraced their few steps and felt around on the ground for
the rifle. Her hand touched stiff grass, rocks, and sand. Then her
fingers settled on cold steel. She picked up the rifle and hurried
back out of the tree cover, all the while expecting to feel the teeth
and claws of an angry panther. When she started back to the clearing, she realized he'd followed her. At least he hadn't left her at the
lion's mercy.

It was probably long gone by now, and she was being skittish for
no reason. She nearly ran from the trees into the warm wash of moonlight and Rick's solid presence.

"The least you could have done was come with me," she said.

"You made enough noise to scare away a pride of lions. The cougar
was long gone."

"Do you have mountain lions here often?" she asked him. The
breeze, laden with the scent of pine from the piiions, touched her face.

Rick didn't reply. They stepped into the moonlight, and he
stopped for a second, then took off running for the barn.

Allie darted after him. "What's wrong?" Then she saw. The gate
gaped open, and the horses were out. She put on another spurt of speed, ignoring the rocks that poked her feet. A rope, she needed to
help lasso them. Dodging Rick, she stepped into the barn, grabbed
two ropes from the hook, and rejoined him in the paddock.

She handed him one of the ropes. "It wasn't open a little while ago.
I looked down from my window and watched the horses before the
scream came. The gate was closed. I'm sure of it."

"I'll check it out. But first, we'd better get those horses back."
Uncoiling the rope, he walked away.

Allie followed. There were four horses out. At least she could
show him she knew how to rope and ride. While she might not have a
lot of skills, she'd be an asset to any ranch.

He called out the name Moonbeam, and a black horse with a gleaming white blaze turned its head to stare at him. Rick approached, and
the horse snorted and backed away. The coil of rope he threw missed
Moonbeam's neck, and the horse whirled to bolt.

Running her hands over the rough rope, Allie twirled it and let it
go. The rope burned her palm as the loop on the end sailed through
the air and settled around the horse's neck. She braced her feet, digging her bare toes into the sandy soil. Moonbeam's head came up and
he snorted, but she had him.

"Come here, boy," she coaxed, pulling on the rope.

"Nice," Rick said, his voice grudging. "Where'd you learn to rope
like that?"

"Rodeo. I could rope a calf by the time I was five." She ran her
hands over the horse's gaunt frame. She winced at the bones poking
through his rough coat. "He's so thin."

"You should have seen him when we rescued him. I didn't think
he'd make it." Rick grabbed Moonbeam's rope halter when the gelding neared. "I'll put him in the barn while you lasso the next one."

Some men would have been intimidated by her superior skill. Score
one for the cowboy. She spared a glance after him. He was powerfully
built, with broad shoulders and muscular thighs. Very different from
Jon. Maybe that was a good thing. It would ensure that she and Betsy
wouldn't put him in Jon's place.

Her thoughts danced away from his preposterous suggestion
again. Marriage to him terrified her.

She lassoed the next horse, Cupcake. The mare came willingly
with her colt following after. They were probably skittish after hearing the mountain lion. If the big cat had gotten hold of little Frost ...
Allie shuddered.

Once all the horses were secured, she and Rick walked the fence
line. "Maybe the gate failed to latch, and one of the horses pushed it
open," she suggested.

"It's got a chain on it." He secured the chain and latched the padlock. "It couldn't have been accidental."

The stalker had found her. No. No, she was sure no one knew
where she'd gone.

"Could Betsy have come out to see Frost?" Rick asked.

"I had trouble sleeping, and she's been asleep since her head hit the
pillow."Allie followed him toward the porch.

"I'd guess it was kids, but we're so remote out here they'd have to
come from Alpine or Marathon."

The explanations all fell flat. Why come here?

"Maybe campers from the Big Bend." He stretched his big frame,
then folded his arms across his chest. "We didn't get a chance to finish our discussion."

She took a step back. 'T ---I don't know what to say. I appreciate
the offer, but I just can't marry someone I don't know." The night air held a chill, and Allie told herself she was shaking only because of the
temperature.

He didn't answer right away. Rick leaned his shoulder against a
porch post and looked out into the star-filled sky. "Jon saw this coming," he said finally. "He said if anything happened to him that his parents would try to get Betsy. He made me promise if it happened that
I'd marry you and adopt her. I guess his childhood was bad."

"I know," Allie said. The cold penetrated her bones, and her teeth
began to stutter together. "Always drinking and fighting. They've got
several foster kids too, so they'll look good to a judge with their pseudoChristian mask. They go to church all the time and quote all kinds of
rules, but it's all for show. They don't possess an ounce of real faith."

"Didn't Jon ever tell you what he'd asked me? He said he would."

Allie shook her head. "He only said if I was ever in trouble to come
to you. Maybe he didn't want to worry me. I I think it seems a little
extreme, his solution, I mean. You've been in special ops. Surely you
can pull some strings and make the problem go away."

He smiled, his white teeth catching a glint of moonlight. "No strings
that could alter a custody battle. They'll find you eventually, but there
would be nothing they could do if we were married and I adopted Betsy"

She studied his face, the strong planes and angles, the determined
jaw. Jon said Rick was one in a million, but she couldn't imagine being
tied to him for the rest of her life. Maybe it wouldn't have to be that
way. "W we would divorce once Betsy was secure?"

"If that's what you want."

Was that relief she heard in his voice? He probably didn't want this
any more than she did. Maybe she wasn't his type any more than he
was hers. "I'll think about it," she said, turning to flee to the safety of
her room.

RICK DISMOUNTED GUNNER AND SCANNED THE FAINT MARKS IN THE DUST.
Two people, one smaller than the other, had left their tracks in the
pasture behind the barn. Maybe a man and a woman or a man and a
youth. Or the tracks could have been made before last night. He was
too tired to tell.

He shaded his eyes with his hand and let his gaze wander over the
hills around the ranch. There was no movement other than a jackrabbit darting from shrub to shrub.

"Anything, Cowboy?" Charlie asked.

"Nope." Rick dropped his hand back to his side. His gaze lingered
on Charlie's new saddle. "Nice chrome. You must have spent a year's
pay on that."

Charlie grinned. "It was worth it."

"Did you hear anything last night?"

Charlie shook his head. "I fell asleep with the TV on. The volume
was kind of high." He gestured to the tracks. "Could be illegals. I'd
guess a couple wandered through here and tried to catch a ride.
Maybe the big cat scared them off."

"Maybe." Rick wasn't buying it. "You go to rodeos.You ever see her?"

"Allie? She was working the rodeo in El Paso I went to last month.
I told her Elijah might be able to help Betsy."

"What do you know about her?"

Charlie mounted his roan mare, Freckles. "Her parents were killed
in a small plane crash about a year ago. Her mom was Anna Morgan."

Rick whistled. "I heard about that crash. It will probably be a long
time before anyone breaks Anna's record. Most barrel racing wins.
She was a phenomenal rider."

"Word was Allie had a good shot at it. I saw her in one event. She's
fast. She had a great horse. I wonder what happened to the mare?"