Must Love Cowboys (29 page)

“Yes, ma'am.” Dean's wicked grin belied his contrite response. “Whatever you say.”

Wyatt waited until Dean disappeared through the doorway. “Looks like you've got us all coming to heel, don't you?”

“Not likely,” I said with a snort. “I can't even get my dog to mind this morning. I hope she hasn't gotten lost.”

He shrugged. “I doubt it. She's lived here long enough to know her way around. Maybe she found a rabbit to chase.”

“You're probably right.” Donning my oven mitts, I took one of the casseroles out and set it on the stove. Wyatt grabbed some pot holders and carried it into the mess hall, leaving me to follow with the second one.

The guys were sipping their smoothies. Bull's glass was already empty, his mustache speckled with frothy pink foam.

“Great stuff,” he said. “High in carbs, but damned healthy.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick said. “Thanks for the nutritional analysis.” He shot me a grin. “It's delicious, but I bet that casserole is even better.”

“I hope you're right. This is the first time I've tried it.”

After tasting it, I thought it needed a touch more sage, but the guys were more enthusiastic.

“Definitely a keeper,” Joe announced. “Think you could write down the recipe so I can give it to Jenny?”

“Sure,” I replied. “Be easier to email her the link, though.”

Calvin chuckled, shaking his head. “Technology…”

“Hey, it's made me the cook I am today. A whole world of possibilities at my fingertips.” I flexed my fingers for emphasis. “I'm thinking teriyaki chicken wings for dinner.”

“Awesome,” Sonny said. “I haven't had Chinese food in ages.”

I shrugged. “Technically, teriyaki is Japanese, although my version won't be truly authentic. Guess I could make some fried rice to go with it and call it Asian Fusion.”

“Doesn't matter what you call it,” Wyatt said. “I'm sure it'll be good.”

Adorable man.

* * *

After the guys left for the day, I went out and called for Ophelia again, but received no response. I was starting to get worried.

To pass the time and take my mind off what she might be up to, I went online and found a basic fried rice recipe and several versions of teriyaki chicken wings. I put my own spin on the marinade and was in the process of cutting up the wings when Angela brought Jack down from the main house. After getting him settled in the mess hall with Calvin, she joined me in the kitchen.

“I asked Dad about that phone call from Duane,” she began. “He claims it never happened, but his memory isn't what it used to be. Wish we knew for sure.”

“Me too.” I poured the marinade over the wings, put a lid on the bowl, and stuck it in the fridge. “I still can't decide if I trust Duane. One minute I think he's legit, and the next, he's Public Enemy Number One.”

“I'm having the same problem. I mean, what he said seemed reasonable, but there's something odd about him.”

“Yeah. Ophelia didn't like him, and she's a pretty good judge of character. Speaking of which, have you seen her this morning? I let her out early and haven't seen her since.”

“No, but I'll keep an eye out for her. Let me know if you hear from the lawyers.”

“Will do.”

Angela went back to the house, and I had just come back inside after yelling for Ophelia until my throat was sore when the phone rang. I answered it, but immediately handed it off to Calvin.

“It's Jeannine's lawyer,” I whispered, not wanting to disturb Jack, who was already dozing in his recliner.

Calvin took the phone. “Hello, this is Calvin Douglas.” Ten minutes passed before he said another word, making me toy with the idea of picking up the extension.

“Is that right?” he finally said. “Didn't seem that way to me… Yes, well, thank you for your time… Good-bye.”

“Okay,” I prompted as soon as he switched off the phone. “Spill it. What did he say?”

He shook his head slowly. “According to that lawyer, Jeannine originally meant for all of her money to go to that charity of hers. Then about six months ago, she changed her will, making me her primary beneficiary.”

“That's interesting. Did he say why?”

“I don't think he knew, although he did say Jeannine hadn't been doing well for a long time. Duane was right about that much.” Arching a brow, he leaned forward in his chair. “He also said that Duane Evans didn't know I existed until the will was read.”

“Even more interesting,” I said. “Looks like we're back to square one, but we know one thing we didn't know before.”

“Yeah,” Calvin said. “That Duane fellow is a damned liar.”

I wasn't too surprised to hear that, particularly since it confirmed many of our suspicions. “What else did he say?”

“He said Jeannine never expected them to find me and told them not to try very hard.”

“That's weird.”

“I thought so too, and so did the lawyer, but you know how it is. Rich old ladies sometimes have strange ideas.”

Then again, it might have been a very shrewd move on her part. It would certainly keep Duane or anyone else from embezzling money from the foundation. At least for a while. “I guess the next question is what would happen if you weren't around to inherit.”

His smile was grim. “That's where it really gets interesting. Proof of my death would mean the money goes to the charity in a year.”

One year versus two, and five months had already passed.
Hmm…
“And if you refuse the inheritance?”

“They didn't say anything about that—mainly because I didn't ask.”

“Might be a good question for next time.”

“I suppose so. Anyway, they're in the process of making sure I am who I say I am. Said they'd call me back in a day or two.”

In the meantime, our vigilance needed to be continuous. Unfortunately, I had a missing dog.

“Listen, I hate to leave you and Jack here alone, but do you think you could hold the fort for a while if I let Angela know I'm going out to look for Ophelia? She's been gone all morning.”

“Sure thing, but you'd better take a pistol with you,” Calvin advised, pointing to the holsters hanging on pegs near the door. “No telling what you might run across out there.”

Never having fired a gun in my life, I wasn't terribly pleased about carrying one, but I couldn't argue with his suggestion. My aim was what concerned me. “I wouldn't be able to hit anything smaller than the barn.”

“The noise is enough to scare off most things,” he said with a grin. “Just be careful you don't shoot the dog.”

“I'll try not to.”

After a quick lesson in gun safety and a call to Angela, I tossed the chicken wings in the slow cooker, then put on a jacket and holster and set out.

The only trouble was, I had absolutely no idea which direction to take.

Think like a dog, Tina.

After a quick check of the barn and other outbuildings, I went off through the open gate to the nearest pasture. The quiet voice of reason in my head told me I should check that eastern ridge, but I ignored it. Just because I thought Duane might be watching from up there didn't necessarily mean he had Ophelia with him. For one thing, she didn't like him. For another, as steep and rough as that hillside was, I wasn't too keen on trying to climb it. Stepping gingerly over the cattle bars, I headed north up the dirt track behind the barn.

Judging from the ruts, the men drove the truck up that way fairly often, and the track continued on for quite a ways before petering out. By the time I'd reached the summit of the third hill, I had no voice left whatsoever. I did a slow three-sixty turn, taking in the landscape, which was pretty much the same in every direction. Green shoots were beginning to peek through the dead grasses, and I saw the occasional bird, but not much else.

As I stood there, listening, I finally heard it: a distant bark, which—as luck would have it—was off to the southeast.

Bloody hell…

I started off in that direction, but it wasn't long before I regretted my decision as the terrain grew increasingly rugged. What looked like a reasonable path from a distance was actually crisscrossed with deep gullies and treacherous, rocky slopes. I stopped for a moment and called again.

No bark.

“Damn it all to hell and back.” Now was obviously the time to start cursing a blue streak, but that was the best I could do. I called out again, and received no bark in reply.

By that time, I was so turned around I wasn't even sure which direction I was headed. The sun, being almost directly overhead, was no help at all. I was exhausted, footsore, thirsty, and hoarse.

Not to mention stupid. I should never have come this far on my own, although for all I knew the bunkhouse was just over the next hill. Considering how far north I had walked, then back toward the southeast, I figured if I turned to my right, I should get back to the house eventually.

Maybe.

Purely through force of habit, I had my cell phone with me. I even had the bunkhouse phone number programmed into it, but of course, there was no signal whatsoever. I started off on my new heading, wishing I had brought a compass with me instead of a phone.

I bet there's an app for that.
Too bad I'd never seen the need to download one. However, I had every intention of doing so. Just as soon as I had Internet access again.

Then I remembered the WiFi. The signal from the bunkhouse probably wasn't very strong, but even a weak signal would give me some idea of the right direction. Normally, I kept the WiFi receiver turned off because my phone tended to get carried away with signal searching and run down its battery. I enabled the setting and turned around slowly.

Nothing.

With no other options, I resumed my trek in the direction I'd already chosen, checking for a signal every so often. Unfortunately, I soon discovered a drawback to staring at your phone while hiking across uneven terrain. I have no idea what I stepped on, but one moment I was trucking along at a decent pace, and the next, my ankle turned so sharply I went down on my knees. Excruciating pain shot through my ankle and what was left of my breakfast threatened to make a comeback.

“Great. Juuussst great.” I sat back and massaged my ankle for a bit, then tried to stand. That time I really did throw up.

No phone signal, no Internet connection, no dog, and now, little or no mobility. I didn't consider crawling back to the bunkhouse to be a viable alternative. Having Wyatt come riding up on a white horse was preferable, but at the time, I would have settled for Duane. Where was our fence-cutting, charity-embezzling, attempted murderer when I needed him? If he'd been skulking around as much as we suspected, it was a wonder I hadn't run into him.

I sat there for about ten minutes, trying in vain to solve my dilemma when the obvious solution finally occurred to me.

You dummy. You're carrying the Wild West equivalent of a flare.

Drawing the pistol, I released the safety, cocked the hammer, pointed the business end toward a rather innocuous grassy spot on the opposite hillside, and fired.

As weak as I was from pain and exertion, the recoil nearly dislocated my shoulder. The report echoed across the vast, empty spaces. Surely someone would hear it. I was on top of a hill, for heaven's sake, not down at the bottom of a ravine. Nevertheless, I couldn't help wondering how long I should wait before firing another shot. There were plenty of extra bullets in the holster, and Calvin had shown me how to load it. He knew I was carrying a gun too, and though I couldn't very well count on him or Jack hearing anything, the other men should have. The sound probably carried for miles.

Not hearing a single sound that would indicate help was on the way, I began massaging my ankle again.

If nothing else, the guys would come in for supper, realize I was gone, and start searching for me. Calvin knew I was out here, and so did Angela. Surely I would be rescued before dark. Even if wolves or coyotes came prowling around, I had a weapon. I wished I'd known how big the ranch was and how far away the guys were. That way I would have some idea of when they might find me. Funny how you never know what you need to know until you need to know it.

Okay. I'm delirious now.

I was also getting cold. My jacket and jeans had kept me warm enough while I was walking. Now they seemed woefully inadequate. There were gloves in the pockets, and I put them on, but I'd have given a lot for a knitted cap and a blanket.

Shivering, I lay down on my side and curled up as best I could while trying to keep my ankle straight and elevated. I doubted I would fall asleep—surely the pain would keep me awake—but passing out was a distinct possibility. Maybe after a little rest, I would be able to walk.

I was lying there, slowly becoming resigned to my fate when I realized what I'd done. I'd fallen right in with Duane's plot to get me out of the way. Knowing I would go out searching for her, the conniving creep had taken my dog.

I reminded myself that Calvin wasn't alone, nor was he defenseless. I wasn't so sure about Ophelia. After attempting to kill a man, I couldn't imagine Duane would have any qualms about doing away with a dog, especially one that didn't like him.

I tried standing again and found I could hobble a bit. I was almost to a large, flat rock that appeared to be a nice place to sit down and rest for a while when Wyatt came riding up the hill. The horse was brown rather than white, but I wasn't about to complain, especially when I spotted Ophelia trotting along beside him.

Bringing his horse to a halt, Wyatt dismounted with practiced ease. “I'd have been here sooner if you'd fired another shot.” To my surprise, he didn't seem at all angry with me, simply sliding his arms around the small of my back and pulling me up close to him. His soft, lingering kiss conveyed his relief perfectly. “The first one got my attention. The second would've helped me to actually find you.”

“I'll remember that the next time I twist an ankle,” I said grimly.

“I thought you were limping.” His frown displayed his concern and sent his eyebrows flying into the vertical position. That expression had unnerved me at one time. Now it gave me the warm fuzzies. “How bad is it?”

“Better than it was. I was beginning to think I was gonna have to crawl home.” I reached down and gave Ophelia a pat on the head, ruffling her fur. “I see you found my dog.”

“Nick and I have been searching for her all morning.” He nodded toward the eastern ridge. “About an hour ago, Nick found her tied up in a thicket about half a mile on the other side of that ridge. She seemed kinda groggy. I'm guessing she'd been fed some sort of sedative.”

I didn't have to think very hard to figure out who might've done such a thing—or how. “Duane could've left a pill in a piece of meat right outside the door. She would've gobbled it up as soon as I let her out this morning.”

“Yeah. That's what we thought.” His smile intensified the warmth already surrounding my heart. “Anyway, when I took her back to the house, Calvin said you'd gone out, so I came out to tell you we'd found her. I heard the shot not long after that.” With a glint of mischief in his eyes, he went on, “Nick might've rescued your dog, but I'm really glad I got to be the one to rescue
you
.” He flicked a suggestive eyebrow. “So…should I carry you or put you up on my horse?”

“Better let the horse carry me. I wouldn't want you to mess up an ankle too. Would it be okay if we rode double? I could sit behind you.” I was enough of a romantic to want to ride off into the sunset with my studly cowboy, but I wasn't about to let him sling me in front of the saddle like a sack of feed.

“Sure. Think you can stand up on that outcropping?”

I had my doubts, but I nodded anyway. Wyatt scooped me up in his arms and put me up on the slab of stone. Still somewhat dizzy, I was afraid I would keel over at any moment, but Wyatt held on to me until I felt reasonably steady.

“Okay,” I said. “What's next?”

“I'll mount up and move in close to the downhill side. From there, you should be able to get on without too much trouble.”

Considering I was now on much higher ground and therefore taller than the horse, I thought I might have a chance. The pain in my ankle made my head swim a bit as I inched closer to the edge, but Wyatt was right there to keep me from falling. Bracing myself with a firm grip on his shoulder, I swung my leg over the horse's rump and sat down on the rear edge of the saddle pad.

First time for everything.

“I should warn you, I've never been on a horse in my life.”

“Don't worry,” he said as we started off. “We'll go slow. Just hold on to me and keep your legs close behind mine so you don't kick Hal in the flanks.”

“Hal? Your horse's name is Hal?” Seemed an odd choice to me for some reason.

“Hey, if you can name your dog after a Shakespearean character, I can name my horse after a rogue computer.”

“Touché,” I said, although I couldn't help wondering if this particular Hal had as much of a mind of his own as the original.

Wrapping my arms around Wyatt's waist, I gave him a hug and rested my head against his back, feeling the urge to say something along the lines of “My hero!” I didn't, of course. “Thanks for coming after me. And for finding Ophelia.”

“You should've known we'd go looking for her,” he said. “We all know how much she means to you.”

The tears stinging my eyes had nothing to do with my sore ankle. I hugged him again. “You guys are so sweet to me. To think, I was almost too chicken to sit down to dinner with you that first night.”

He placed his right hand over mine and gave it a meaningful squeeze. “I was a little afraid of you myself. Afraid of how you made me feel.”

“Still scared?”

“A bit. But I'm doing better. One of these days I might even get the nerve to ask you to marry me.”

I had no idea what to say to that. It sounded like a proposal—sort of. I already knew the answer. All he had to do was ask the question. “Not feeling particularly brave today?”

“Mmm…maybe, maybe not.”

I sighed. “I think you're
very
brave. Searching for possible prowlers in the middle of the night. Rescuing damsels in distress. Finding lost dogs. Grilling murder suspects.”

“None of those things required much courage,” he pointed out. “Nothing like asking the kindest, most beautiful, wonderful woman in the world to marry you when you're nothing but a cowboy who doesn't even own the horse he rides.”