Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1) (19 page)

Wes leaped from the truck, his usual tidy mass of gray hair an unruly nest. "Don't just stand there, Bendix. Arrest her!"

The ridiculousness of his statement made her laugh.

Wes turned on her and sneered. "Go ahead and laugh, girl. But you're on private property."

Barely. And if she was correct, the county owned fifteen feet from the shoulder. He had nothing on her.

"You're an idiot. The only one going to jail tonight is you." Bren held up her camera. "Say cheese, asshole." She snapped off a shot and bit down on her tongue when Wes's hand guarded against another click of her camera, and he stumbled.

Finding his footing, he came at her. "I'm going to kill you, bitch."

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
Bren smiled inwardly.

Kevin grabbed Wes's arm, pinning it behind his back.

Wes hollered, and then scowled at Kevin. "I'll have your badge, Bendix."

Kevin leaned in against Wes. "Settle down, Connelly. Or I'm cuffing you." He peered over Bren's head. "Banniker and Smith." The two sheriff deputies, who had just exited their patrol cars, nodded and plowed through the crowd. Wes continued to struggle, and Kevin twisted his arm higher. "You going to behave?"

Wes grunted in the affirmative.

Kevin let him go and shoved him off toward one of his deputies. "Get his statement."

Kevin grabbed Bren's arm and steered her toward Sweet Creek's darkened sign. "I'm trying like hell not to haul you off to jail." He glanced at the sign now scribbled with dark sweeps of paint and whispered, "I ignored Rafe's truck earlier. Figured you two were holed up in the back seat laughing your asses off while I took that damn report." His grip tightened. "But if you don't give me straight answers. I'm pulling that report out of deep-six and charging you both."

Bren pulled away and rubbed her arm. "Do I need to do your job? Pick a violation." Bren pointed to the trailer. "It's overweight, overloaded. USDOT would have a field day, not to mention the obvious. He's using a cattle trailer."

Kevin turned toward the trailer, his profile hardened. He grabbed his flashlight and motioned toward Bren. "Bring that camera."

Bren fell in step.

Kevin stopped at the driver's door of the cab and called up to the driver. "I want to see your papers." He waited until dirty, callused fingers handed them out the window. Kevin glanced at them before shoving them in his waistband. He continued down the side of the rig, snorts and whinnies growing louder the closer they got to the double-decker trailer. He flashed his light between the metal slats, and Bren's heart sagged when several pairs of big frightened eyes glowed back from the darkness. Kevin shook his head. "Christ."

She tugged on his arm. "I need to get them out."

He nodded, his jaw tense. "Get Peterson up here, I want this documented."

She turned to leave and came up short when Kevin grabbed her arm. "If the papers are accurate, there are twenty-three horses. The way they're sandwiched in there, it's hard to say how many are still alive." He looked around. "You knew, didn't you?" He looked her up one way and down the other, his expression grim. "You can give me details later. For now, it makes sense you handle this case on the abuse side. Get Breakstone up here and as many hands as you have. You're going to need trailers—a lot of them."

Bren shook her head. She'd had trailers on standby. But after what the horses had been through... "No way. I can't do that."

"What?"

"They're frightened. And I don't want more injuries."

Kevin took a step back and pushed his Stetson up with his thumb. "How you going to move twenty-three freaking horses without trailers?"

Rafe's long fingers pressed into her lower back. "We can lead them. Grace is only a mile behind Connelly's place. We cut a hole in the fence and feed them through."

Kevin scratched his head and mumbled something derogatory with "cowboy" tacked on the end. He glanced back at the group she'd assembled and frowned. "Wes isn't going to give permission to cross his land."

"I will."

The group turned.

Robert Connelly, backlit from a beam of light from one of the patrol cars, stood with his hands on his hips, looking like an avenging angel.

Rafe couldn't deny that Wes Connelly's predicament amused him. The put-together Connelly fell short of his mark tonight. Red obviously had awakened him. He could pass for the belligerent town drunk with his tall-framed body bent over the hood of the deputy's squad car, legs spread apart, cursing lavishly. It took the three sheriff's men, including Bendix, to cuff him and corral his miserable ass in the back seat.

The smirk on Bren's face after the younger Connelly retired for the night, leaving Wes to the mercy of the county jail, was a definite concern for Rafe. He couldn't argue her strategy. It damn well worked. If she was right and Wes had killed Tom, she would be next. Any woman in the same circumstance... He shook his head. Bren wasn't any woman.

He smiled at that and concentrated on the woman who was going to snatch his heart and keep it when he returned to Texas. Now sandwiched in the front of the cattle trailer, Bren, down on all fours, held a mare's head and glanced at Rafe while he tightened his hold on the mare's hindquarters.

When they had unloaded the horses, the animals were slick with nervous sweat, tails thrashing. Most had suffered abrasions but were capable of walking out on their own with assistance, except for one.

They'd found her down in the front, with both front legs broken. The old girl had been trying, without success to right herself. Exhausted, she lay on her side, with her head against the metal wall of the trailer, her nostrils flaring.

Since the horse was too heavy and awkwardly placed, they came to the conclusion it was best to deal with the situation inside the trailer. There was no need to make it an even bigger spectacle in front of Bren's boys and the volunteers who were currently, with the help of Daniel Fallon and Paddy Ryan, tethering the horses together.

Rafe smiled to himself. Tom had raised some great boys with Bren. Straight out of a dead sleep, they had dressed, saddled Grace's horses, and come willingly to help lead the horses now in Grace's care. Damn if they weren't crowding his heart, too.

"Hold her steady." Bren's voice cracked, and she turned her head, wiping her cheek on the sleeve of her leather jacket. "Oh my God—I might have caused this, running in front of the rig!"

Rafe's gut clenched. Her pain, somehow, had become his. No other woman had that kind of effect on him. And damned if this one wasn't burrowing into his heart. And the hell of it was, he wasn't doing much to stop it. Tonight, he'd even encouraged it. Good thing she had a jealous streak, otherwise he'd have taken her on the shag carpet and to hell with being a gentleman.

"You didn't, darlin'." No way was he telling Bren the truth. Wes's men had given him up. The mare had slipped when they'd loaded her in, her legs ending outside the slats of the truck. Wes refused to unload it. He'd ordered them to break her legs and shove them back in.

Jeremy knelt down next to Bren. "You know this is only going to calm her down."

Bren nodded. She caressed the mare's face. "Easy, girl. Relax." She continued to stroke the mare, whose wide, frightened eyes were intent on Bren's face.

Jeremy plunged the needle in. "She'll start to relax in a few minutes." He massaged the puncture spot with his fingers and angled his head toward Bren. "I don't have enough for a full dose. I used it tonight on the last call." He frowned. "I can run back to the clinic and do this the right way. It will take me about forty minutes round-trip."

Bren shook her head. "That's too long."

Jeremy scrubbed his face hard. "Damn it. I'm kicking myself." He pushed up and rubbed his back. "Watch her. I'll find Bendix. She should be fine until I get back."

Rafe clenched his teeth. Had he known the fate of the mare before Wes's hasty departure, he'd have given him a good Bible lesson—an eye for an eye. Seemed only right that son of a bitch Wes should suffer the same consequences.

The mare's muscles relaxed, and Rafe, his long legs uncomfortably bent, stooped inside the trailer. He moved to Bren and touched the slender nape of her neck. "How you doing, champ?"

She lifted her head toward him. The battery-powered work light Jeremy had erected in the corner of the trailer lit up her pretty face, wet from tears. "He's a bastard."

He kneaded her neck. "I know. I've come across some mean sons of bitches. But Connelly's a rare breed."

Bren sniffed. "I want to put a bullet in his head." She frowned. "That's what it's come to, Rafe."

"Think smarter, Bren. We'll get him. You got what you want. Sheriff didn't miss his threat toward you. No one did." He pulled her head up against his and whispered, "The thing of it is, I wasn't thinking too clearly when I agreed to your plan. Hell, half the time, when I'm with you, I'm not thinking clearly."

Bren pulled away, her cheeks flushed with anger. "I didn't ask you to be a part of it. Remember?" She shook her head. "The problem with you, Rafe Langston, is you've stuck your nose in something that doesn't concern you at all." Her expression turned thoughtful before her eyes flashed. "Why are you here?" She sat back on her haunches and stared at him. "I don't understand. Why this town? My farm? My fight? It's not yours, you know, and I don't need your take or your cold feet distracting me. I'm going through with it." She gave him her back.

"Bren—"

She swung back. A set of stubborn brown eyes locked onto his. "In or out. Decide, cowboy."

Whoever said only opposites attract didn't know diddly. "You're a royal pain in the ass, Red." His gaze hardened. "Problem is, we're too much alike. I'm not walking away from this thing. Not with you in the middle." He tugged on a loose strand of her hair. "You have the damnedest color hair. I should have known to keep my distance from you."

The frown lines around her pouty mouth lessened. He was sorely tempted to steal a kiss and see her reaction. The thought made his cock swell, and he cursed this redhead who had him panting after something, or rather someone, he knew damn well wasn't his for the taking.

The door of the trailer swung back, and Jeremy and Bendix crested the top deck.

"How we doing?" Jeremy asked.

"She hasn't moved," Bren said.

"Good." Jeremy slid down the ramp and checked the mare's heartbeat. "She should be good. Let's get this over with."

Bendix followed and unholstered his gun. "Get back." He eyed Bren. "That includes you."

Bren adjusted herself but refused to move away. "You're a marksman. I'm staying put."

Bendix rolled his eyes, and then nodded over her head to Rafe, his point understood. Bendix leveled his gun at the mare's head. The audible click, Rafe's signal, he pulled Bren into his arms and yanked her against him. She clung to him. Her body stiffened when the single bullet exploded. The sound, more like a cannon, reverberated off the metal walls of the trailer.

Rafe held her tight. He was kidding himself if he wasn't deriving his own kind of comfort from this wisp of a woman in his arms. Tough cowboy or not, he recognized that pinch in the back of his eyes.

She was wrong. This was very much his business. She was his business, and it didn't please him in the least. Becoming emotionally attached to her and her boys had never been a consideration. And that weighed heavily, because this family had seen their share of sadness. Adding to it tore him apart. But leaving this one to her own devices could get her killed. He would find a way to walk away from her when this was over. He had to walk away. But death wasn't going to swallow her up. That he damn well couldn't live with.

E
arly morning wisps of fog floated above the cornfields. The sun, a soft, golden glow, emerging in the east above Bear Pond Mountain, reminded Bren she hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours.

Trading her skirt and the thin leather jacket for a pair of jeans and her bulky barn coat her father brought from the house, she was reasonably warm considering the temperature. Snuggling into the quilting of her coat, sitting in the saddle, she relaxed against the gentle sway of her horse Smiley.

She patted his side. This thing with her and Wes had started twenty-three years ago with this horse—her horse. He'd been slated for the same fate as the horses last night. Now in his twilight years, he'd become more than just a horse. He'd been the catalyst for Daniel and Dee Fallon to establish Grace.

Bren leaned forward and nuzzled the side of his head. "I love you, old boy." He pressed his head to hers and blew through his nose, his quiet, contented way of replying.

The volunteers continued to drive the horses across Connelly land. Bren hadn't been sure which way Robert would side. She guessed neither was Wes until Robert's icy departure had left him to wonder where exactly he'd be spending the weekend.

After what she'd been through with the mare, she was half-tempted to steal Kevin's gun and shoot Wes and put herself out of
her
misery. Now, hours later, she struggled to keep her eyes open in what Finn had decided, after conferring with Rafe, was his very first cattle drive. Not that they were driving one single head of cattle. With Aiden and Paddy in the lead, they were a ragtag group of riders and tethered horses, exhausted and beat to the ground as they made their way toward Grace and its pastures.

The creak of the worn saddle and Finn's sweet voice quizzing Rafe about his life in Texas lulled Bren. The two rode next to her, Rafe on Bart, a tall black gelding with Finn sitting in front, his small body slumped against Rafe's chest, his soft, white neck craning up to see Rafe's face when he answered the myriad questions Finn fired up at him.

The fence separating Sweet Creek and Grace emerged from the fog looking better than any Emerald City Bren had ever seen. She ignored the gritty feel to her eyes. With twenty-two new additions to Grace, it would be hours before she could consider a catnap. Wes's arrest was only the beginning. If she wanted him to be prosecuted, she needed to make damn sure they had a solid case. More photos would be needed and a formal assessment of the horses' conditions documented before her team reached out to other rescues in the area that would be able to help. As much as she'd like to keep them all, the burden of having a total of thirty-four horses was too great for their rescue.