One Lucky Cowboy (28 page)

   
Safe? Right. But how do I ever trust anyone again?
Even you, and you're a good man, Slade. But I'd always
have a doubt, wouldn't I?

   She swallowed hard and nodded. She wanted to cry but she turned and watched the tall pine trees sweeping by at seventy-five miles an hour.

   In forty-five minutes Slade pulled the truck into a gravel lane leading back to a ranch house. Kids played outside. Two ladies sat on the porch. Men were working round and about everywhere. He didn't stop but kept driving down a path to the back where a small plane sat on a short concrete runway. Milli waved at them and motioned the truck closer.

   "Beau's momma will be taking your truck to a barn and hiding it away for a week. Leave the keys under the floor mat. She'll come and get it later today. She's the only one who knows what's going on here, so everything should be safe. Get your gear and we'll get going," Milli said.

   Jane had flown since before she could walk, but she hated small airplanes. Give her a big old jet with wide aisles so that she felt as though she was traveling with the comforts of a condo and she was fine.

   "You look a little pale, Jane," Milli said. "Don't worry. I've been flying for years and I've got the manual right there in the cockpit with me in case something goes wrong. Slade can read big words, can't he?"

   Jane blanched.

   "Hey, I'm only teasing. Slade, you sit up front with me. Jane, I'm sorry the back is so crowded. I had this one adapted for just me and Katy Scarlett. That little seat accommodates her car seat just fine but it's going to be a tight fit for you. Thank God you're not as big as that Amazon Slade was dating at Granny's party."

   That brought out a smile as Jane practically folded her legs against her shoulder bones to sit down.

   "Okay, crew, here we go," Milli said.

   "Where do we go?" Jane asked.

   "I'll tell you a story. Believe it or not, my maternal grandmother was a blonde before she went gray. She's English as they come. Grandmother came from Rio County, one of the border counties over in Texas. Anyway, she came to the University of Mexico to study Spanish, and she met Grandpoppy. She made friends with his sister and went home with the girl for a weekend and there was her older brother. She says it was love at first sight, and they were both thunderstruck. She says he looked like a darker version of Clark Gable and he says she looked just like a goddess with her blonde hair and blue eyes.

   "They were in love, but do you know what it was like in the '40s for a rich white Texas girl to fall in love with a full-blooded Mexican boy? Even if his parents were every bit as rich as hers? Well, I can tell you, it wasn't easy. I guess her father came close to a heart attack when she wrote them she was marrying my Grandpoppy. He disowned her and refused to have her name mentioned in his house ever again. So they lived in Mexico; then her parents were both killed in a house fire and since she was the only child, the property was hers. So she and my Grandpoppy took the girls… all five of them… to Rio County to raise them in the United States. They kept their place in Mexico and went back to see that side of the family for vacations and holidays. Sometimes Grandpoppy came back to settle business ventures, and now that they're retired, they spend a lot of time there and less in Rio County. It's their cabin on the beach where you'll be spending the next week. Few people even know about the cabin, since it's on a private stretch of beach property. I can't think that the man who is after you will ever find you. Oh, I've got a cell phone here. It's to be used only in emergencies. That means dial the number taped on the back, which is your agent's number, or leave it alone."

   Slade rolled his eyes. Just what he wanted and needed. A week on a deserted beach with Ellacyn Jane Hayes. Life couldn't get any more complicated.

   Jane sighed. Maybe John wouldn't be able to locate her there. Hopefully, his resources didn't include the whole Luckadeau family.

   "After I drop you off, I'm going to Momma's. She's got Katy Scarlett and I'm picking her up and taking her back home tomorrow morning. As far as anyone knows, I'm simply flying in and out to get my daughter," Milli said.

   "Thank you," Jane finally remembered her manners.

   "Yes, thanks, Milli," Slade added.

   "Hey, family sticks together. You know that, Slade. Took me a while to figure it out but I sure do like the concept now that I'm getting on to it."

   "How long have you and Beau been married?" Jane asked.

   "Less than a year. This is my last flight until the baby is born. I promised Beau I'd give it up after the first trimester. He's holding me to my promise."

   "Had this plane long?" Slade asked.

   "A few years. I had a Cessna-172 at first and loved that little bitty plane, but this old bird took my eye at an air show when I was in college and I had to have one like it. So I sold the Cessna and with the money I had saved from stunt shows and a season of crop dusting, I bought this old Yak-52. It was one of those old Russian war buzzards that was customized with room for the pilot, copilot, and just enough room to put the baby's car seat behind me. I loved the bubble of glass over my head and felt like the Red Baron the first time I took it up. My very first plane was painted candy-apple red with thin red pin stripes and spectators said it looked like a ball of fire when I put it through the acrobatics in a show."

"You fly stunt?" Jane was intrigued.

   "Sure. Want to fly upside down or close enough to the trees down there to count the oranges on them?"

   "No, thank you," Jane laughed.

   "Tell Beau next time you see him. He hates to fly and is just a notch above Katy when it comes to nausea. I swear she got her daddy's genes in everything."

   "Really?" Jane asked.

   "She really did. I thought I'd kept him a secret and did pretty good until we came to Oklahoma last spring. One look at her and him together and it was plain who her father was. Someday when you and I have lots of time we'll find a quiet corner and compare Luckadeau stories," Milli said.

   "Here now!" Slade said.

   Milli cocked her head to one side, fiddled with controls, and listened intently. "Yes, sir," she finally said.

   "Change of plans. A hurricane is developing off shore and headed toward the beach. I'm taking you straight to Hereford, Texas. There will be an agent at the ranch to take you elsewhere."

   "Mercy!" Jane said.

   "That must be a wicked man you are running from," Milli said. "Thank goodness you've got Slade with you. Luckadeau men are good at protecting their women."

   It was on the tip of Jane's tongue to tell her that she was in no way Slade's woman and never would be, but she didn't say a word.

   "Milli, thank you," Jane said before she obeyed.

   Milli hugged her with the arm that wasn't holding the child and whispered softly, "When it's all over, come and see me. I'd love to hear the whole story. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

   "You got a deal," Jane whispered back.

   "Thank you, Milli," Slade said.

   "You are very welcome. Take care of her."

   "Will do," Slade waved as they crossed the pasture.

   One agent was tall and slim and wore jeans, a three button knit shirt, and boots. He had a nose slightly too big for his gaunt face and a receding hairline. The other one had carrot-red hair cut in a burr, a round face, and tight lips that gave him a serious appearance.

   "I'm Agent August," the red-haired one said. "This is Agent Jones. We moved your truck from the Luckadeau ranch. I hope you don't mind but if you do, rest assured we did it with legal papers. There's a blond-haired man driving it—from a distance he looks like you—and a small dishwater blonde is riding with him. We feel sure that John has already identified you, Slade, and has your truck license number. He has lots of resources. We hope to catch him in the next two or three days when he finds that truck parked at a motel. Now if you two will get into the van, we'll be on our way."

   "This has been a hell of a day," Jane said when she was buckled in beside Slade in the backseat.

   "Hopefully it will get better. We are taking you to a safe house about two hours from here. The only thing you have to do for the next week is stay within the borders we'll give you. Sorry about the beach holiday. It would have been a good place."

   "I'm confused," Jane said as she watched Milli get into the van with her mother and drive away. "If you want to catch him, it's easy. Just let me call Celia. He'll be in touch with her for sure."

   "Think you can bring my truck back to me without bullet holes?" Slade asked seriously.

   "Do our best—or else fix the holes before we do," Agent August said.

   Jane leaned her head back and fell asleep. It had been a long day. Thank goodness it hadn't come on the heels of the drunken night in Baton Rouge. One thing for damn sure, she was going to have stories to tell her grandchildren… if she ever had any. She awoke with a start when the van stopped and could hardly believe she'd been asleep two whole hours.

   "We're here," Agent Jones said. "Home sweet home for a week. Try not to kill each other. Familiarity breeds contempt, you know." He chuckled.

   "Ah, it's not such a bad place. Can see for miles in any which way. A man would be a fool even to attempt to sneak up on this place. And the last time I brought a witness here to stay a few days, we left a deck of cards and a few books, so you won't get too bored," Agent August said.

   "Here're the keys and the phone," Agent Jones handed them to Slade.

   "You're not coming inside?" Jane felt as if she'd been thrown to the wolves as she stared at the small cabin set in the middle of nowhere with nothing around it but a pole bringing electricity from God knew where.

   "Got to get back to Amarillo and catch a plane. Dial the number on the back in an emergency. Other than that, don't use it. We'll be in touch with your grand mother, Slade. Don't worry about her. We've got two good agents there to protect her." Agent Jones handed him a cell phone and crawled into the passenger side of the car. Evidently it was his turn to ride and August's turn to drive.

   "Who's going to protect the agents from Nellie and Ellen?" Jane asked.

   "Oh, I reckon those old buzzards can take care of themselves. We'll come get you next Saturday morning, take you to Amarillo, and put you on a plane to Greenville and you to Dallas." He pointed first at Jane and then Slade.

   "Where in the hell are we?" Jane asked when the dust settled from their leaving.

   "I think New Mexico, but I fell asleep. Did you notice any highway signs?" he asked.

   "Hell no," she quipped.

   "Well that's just great!" He marched toward the house with her following on his heels.

   "I hope there's enough food in there to last a week."

   "I hope you don't get mad or there might not be."

   The porch stretched the length of the house. The whole place looked to be about twenty-four foot square with the last dregs of paint long since gone. Two windows and a door faced out onto the porch. Slade used the key to open the door and stepped inside ahead of her. She followed, eyes darting around every which way, making sure there were no spiders or mice to greet them.

   It was pristine clean and looked more like an army barracks than a house that real people occupied. Two twin beds, one on either side of the room, were made up mili tary tight with olive drab blankets and sheets folded down neatly from the top. A small kitchenette was comprised of a two-burner stove, a small, stainless-steel sink to the left of it, and a tiny refrigerator underneath, all in one unit. Beside that was a chest-type freezer about the size of a computer desk. The orange floral sofa was outdated and worn but looked comfortable. The old Formica-topped table and two chairs looked like something Lucy and Desi Arnaz had eaten on back when they first got married.

   A door opened at the end of the bed on the right into a fair-sized bathroom. Toilet. Sink. Old claw-foot tub. A tiny apartment-sized washing machine tucked into a corner with cabinets above it. Jane opened the doors to find a healthy supply of toilet paper, towels, washcloths, soap, laundry soap—all the comforts of home.

   Another door opened at the end of the bed on the left into a pantry. It was about a third as big as the living/ bedroom area with shelves on three sides. They were stocked full of canned goods and plastic containers marked dried eggs, flour, cornmeal, sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar… Whoopee yeah! They weren't going to starve, but someone had to cook from scratch.

   He moaned. "A whole week in this place. I might be tempted to kill you myself just to go home."

   "If you are still breathing next Saturday when they return, it won't be because I haven't thought about doing you in, either," she said.

"Welcome to hell, Jane Day." "Same to you, Slade Luckadeau."

JANE UNPACKED HER DUFFEL BAG AND CARRIED THE DIRTY clothing to the bathroom. No dryer anywhere in sight, so she opened the back door to find a clothesline stretched from the porch post to a small, lonesome old mesquite tree not much bigger than a bush. There were a few clothespins still stuck on the line but her jeans would have to be doubled over the wire to keep them from dragging in the dirt. Grass grew here and there in strange clumps—not like anything in Greenville, where it was green and plush as a carpet underfoot. She shaded her eyes with the back of her hand and looked out across acres and acres of desert that didn't stop until it met up with the sky. It reminded her of the ocean in Florida. Water and sky in that peaceful paradise. Dirt and sky in this leftover from hell.