Secluded With the Cowboy (6 page)

He pulled off his boots and tried to find a comfortable position. Not that he expected to get much sleep tonight. Nicole had given him a lot to think about.

She’d been right when she’d said he wasn’t the same man she’d married. Five years ago, he’d been struggling to manage the ranching operations after his dad passed away. Dylan knew his responsibilities. His father had lectured him daily.

In the years before his death, Sterling Carlisle had been a hard-driving teacher who didn’t make allowances for failure. He’d been an innovator. His changes—using free-range organic processes to raise an antibiotic-free, grass-fed herd—had revolutionized the industry in Colorado.

Dylan had inherited a big job. Though he was only twenty-seven at the time, he needed had to prove himself. When it came to the ranch, he couldn’t afford to be a dumb kid. Even small mistakes could cost a fortune.

Lucas Mann had helped with practical advice and guidance. He never hesitated to speak up when he didn’t agree. They’d butted heads. They’d made amends. And Dylan missed that old cowboy. He’d shed some tears when he heard that Lucas was dead.

He looked toward the bed where Nicole was breathing slowly and steadily. The glow from the bedside lamp highlighted her delicate features. She was right about Lucas. They needed to bury the old man and pay him respect.

In spite of his betrayal?
Dylan didn’t want to send the message that he accepted traitors. There had to be consequences for bad behavior. Life wasn’t all daisy chains and sunsets. There were hard decisions to be made.

Those thoughts echoed inside his head.
There are consequences. Make the hard decisions. Plan for the best but be prepared for the worst
.

Leaning back in the chair, he groaned. When had he become such a stubborn cuss? When had he turned into his father?

The next morning, Dylan tried to get back into his normal routine. After making sure Nicole was okay, he showered, dressed, went downstairs, got coffee and went to his office. His intention was to dig into the stack of unopened mail and deal with an e-mail in-box that was stuffed like a Christmas turkey.

For a full week, the running of the ranch had been on autopilot. Now, there was work to be done. Invoices to be signed. Schedules to be reassigned.

Back to normal
. That was what he wanted.

His instinct to stay through the night with Nicole—in spite of her objection—had been a good one. She’d wakened twice.

The first time, she’d been breathing hard, gasping. Both her hands drew into fists that she held to her mouth. When he came near the bed, she’d slapped at him. In a hard voice, she’d told him to get away from her and had let loose a string of graphic profanity—words he’d never heard from his sweet, gentle wife. Dylan had known better than to take her insults personally; she wasn’t talking to him but fighting off the demons that haunted her sleep.

Instead of waking her or touching her, he’d sat beside the bed and spoken softly, telling her that she was safe. She was home. Everything was going to be all right. Gradually, she’d slipped back into peaceful sleep.

The second time she woke up, she’d been sobbing. Again, he’d reassured her.

Though he told himself that she’d be all right, he figured that he’d better take Carolyn’s advice and call in a doctor. Maybe Nicole needed a sleeping pill, a sedative, something for her nerves.

She’ll be all right. She has to be
. It might take a while, but he had to believe that Nicole would forget about her ordeal and remember that she was his wife, that they had a good life together.

Dylan got down to business. He tore open a manila envelope from the local law firm he used for day-to-day operations. The first line of the cover letter read, “Regarding the death of Lucas Mann…”

The words stung. He dropped the attorney’s papers on his desk.
Who the hell am I kidding?
Life at the Carlisle ranch would never be the way it was before. He couldn’t turn back the clock, couldn’t bring Lucas back to life, couldn’t erase Nicole’s heartache and make her love him the way she had before. Whether he liked it or not, things had changed.

Pushing his paperwork out of the way, he folded his arms on the desktop, leaned forward and rested his head. Tears pooled behind his eyelids, but he wouldn’t cry. Not while he was sitting at the desk that had once belonged to his father.

He closed his eyes.
I’m tired
. He’d gotten only a few winks of sleep last night.
So tired
.

When he opened his eyes and looked at his watch, he
saw that two hours had passed. It was after nine o’clock, and the whole household was awake. He heard voices and laughter and the sounds of people walking around. Outside the door to his office, life was happening.

On a normal day, he’d stay right here and work. He was tempted to ignore his responsibilities and join the rest of the family.
Things had changed
.

Just maybe, change was good.

Before the kidnapping, his relationship with Nicole had been rocky. They’d grown apart. He’d tried his best…

Dylan stopped that thought. He took a sip of his ice-cold coffee and faced the truth. He’d taken Nicole for granted. He hadn’t paid enough attention to her. And now, if he didn’t watch out, he’d lose her for sure.

He cleared his desktop, making room for a new set of priorities. And he put his wife at the top of the list.

A
COUPLE OF HOURS LATER
, Dylan was back to his office, savoring a fresh cup of coffee. He’d made definite progress on Project Make Nicole Happy and he couldn’t wait for her to see the results. The world felt a whole lot brighter as he rose from his swivel chair and went to the window.

The snowfall had started. Forecasters predicted a two-to three-inch dusting for today and more tomorrow. He was glad. They needed the moisture in the pastures.

A black SUV with the Delta County Sheriff’s Department logo on the side came up the drive and parked in front of the house. Dylan went to the front door to meet Sheriff Trainer. Though Carolyn and Burke would probably want in on this conversation, he preferred a one-on-one talk. Whenever his sister was involved, things got complicated.

Dylan directed the sheriff to his office, closed the door and returned to his seat behind the desk. “Coffee?”

“I’ve already had three cups.”

And a half a pack of cigarettes from the smell of him. After he dropped his uniform jacket and hat on the sofa, Trainer settled into one of the leather chairs on the other side of the desk. The lines etched into his long, lean face had deepened during the course of this investigation. He looked years older.

“Let me guess,” Dylan said. “You’ve got good news and bad news.”

“That’s about the size of it.”

The sheriff and his deputies had done a competent job in processing evidence and working on the crime scenes, but their investigative work in solving Nicole’s kidnapping had been less than impressive. Burke and the FBI had taken care of the Sons of Freedom smuggling operation. Jesse Longbridge had uncovered the clues that pointed to Nate Miller.

“Start with the good,” Dylan said.

“We found the truck Nate was driving.”

“Using the license-plate number Jesse gave you?”

“That’s right.” The sheriff scowled. He didn’t much like Jesse, especially since Jesse and Fiona Grant were together now. For a while, the sheriff had considered Fiona a suspect. “It was abandoned on a back road in Delta. The truck was reported stolen last night.”

“Did you talk to the owner?”

“I did, and I don’t think he’s guilty of anything other than stupidity. He was in a tavern, drinking, and left his car keys on the table. It’s just as well. He wasn’t in any condition to drive.”

Nate had stolen the truck, then abandoned it. “Do you have any idea what Nate’s driving now?”

“I already impounded all the vehicles at the Circle
M that belonged to the SOF. But Nate’s truck doesn’t seem to be anywhere around here.”

“So, he’s driving his own truck. Right?”

“I guess.” The sheriff scowled.

The lackadaisical attitude was beginning to tick Dylan off. “Have you got your men out looking for him? You could set up roadblocks.”

“Not going to happen,” the sheriff said. “During the past week, my deputies have put in six months’ worth of overtime. I can’t authorize more.”

“Why the hell not?”

“The county has a budget.”

“Not my problem,” Dylan said. “Last night, Nate Miller set off a couple of sticks of dynamite trying to kill me. That kind of criminal act deserves your full attention.”

“I’m doing what I can.” The sheriff fidgeted. “There’s no point in running in circles. Nate’s good at covering his tracks. It’s not likely we’ll find him sitting at the café in Riverton, munching on a jelly donut.”

Locating Nate wouldn’t be easy. Dylan understood that, but his level of frustration was nearing the boiling point. With Nate Miller at large, he and his family were in danger. Every time they left the house, they were targets. He didn’t like being trapped. “What steps
are
you taking?”

The sheriff licked his lips, probably yearning for another smoke. “Waiting for leads.”

Determined to control his temper, Dylan rose slowly to his feet. “Let me get this straight, Sheriff. Your basic plan is to do nothing.”

“I’ll tell you one thing I’ve been doing ever since this mess got started. I’ve been holding off the media. It
wasn’t hard to sidestep our local people, but the Denver news stations have been snooping around.”

He knew that Carolyn’s publicity and promotion department in Denver had been working to keep things quiet. The last thing he wanted was a bunch of reporters shining a spotlight on Nicole’s kidnapping—that was sure to lead to a focus on their marital problems, including their visits to the fertility clinic. And wouldn’t that be a special piece of hell? “Please tell me you haven’t spoken to anyone.”

“Not yet. But they want me to hold a press conference and go on TV. One of those national tabloids called.”

Dylan planted his palms on the desktop and leaned across to confront the sheriff directly. “All of a sudden, doing nothing sounds like a mighty fine idea.”

“I’ve got some advice for you. Those reporters are persistent. Sooner or later, they’ll snag an interview with somebody. If you and Nicole want to avoid that spotlight, you should leave town.”

And let Nate Miller chase him off his own property? This was his home. He’d do whatever necessary to defend it.

The door to his office swung open, and Nicole stepped inside. She looked pretty this morning, dressed in jeans and a blue turtleneck under a matching button-up shirt. Her blond hair was neatly brushed and tucked behind her ears. Her eyes were bright.

She went directly to the sheriff and shook his hand. “I want to thank you for all your help.”

“Just doing my job. You’re looking well.”

“That I am.” Her determined smile almost covered up the underlying fear Dylan had seen last night as she continued, “I’d like to know when you can release Lucas Mann’s body for burial.”

“Within the next few days.” The sheriff stood and hitched up his belt, getting ready to leave. “I was contacted by the attorney who filed Lucas’s will.”

“Steve Stanley in Delta,” Dylan said.

“That’s the guy,” the sheriff said.

“His firm handles the basic paperwork for all our employees.” Full-timers at the ranch were required to fill out a will to go along with their health-and life-insurance policies. “I got the paperwork from Steve informing us that there wasn’t any next of kin. Lucas’s beneficiary was the homeless shelter in Delta.”

Nicole glanced at him. “The same place where you donate a side of beef every quarter?”

He nodded. He should have remembered that shelter last night when she was accusing him of being insensitive. He’d made a lot of charitable contributions. Being in the beef business, he hated to see anyone go hungry.

“In Lucas’s will,” the sheriff said, “he specifically asked to be cremated. He didn’t specify what should happen to the ashes.”

“If there’s no legal problem,” Nicole said, “I’d like to have his remains.”

The sheriff patted her shoulder. In seconds, his demeanor had switched from cold and hostile to genuine warmth. “You’re a good woman, Nicole. I’m sure that Lucas—wherever he is—would be glad that you were taking care of him.”

“He was family,” she said. “We loved him.”

“I know you did.”

If this conversation got much sweeter, Dylan thought he might go into insulin shock. He circled his desk and held open the office door. “Okay, Sheriff. Thanks for stopping by.”

“No need to rush,” Nicole said. “Would you like coffee? Polly made some of her famous raisin rolls.”

From down the hall, Dylan heard the front doorbell. Carolyn answered, and called out, “Nicole! Come here, Nicole.”

This wasn’t happening the way Dylan had planned. He’d hoped to be alone with his wife when the surprise arrived. He’d wanted her to be looking only at him.

No such luck.

Standing in the front foyer were two deliverymen from a flower shop in Delta. Each of them held two dozen red roses in vases. “These are for Nicole Carlisle,” one of the men announced. “From her adoring husband.”

Instead of cooing with delight, her eyes narrowed as she looked from the bouquets to him and back again. She didn’t appear to be pleased.
What the hell?
She had to be happy. What woman wouldn’t be thrilled by four dozen red roses?

He stepped toward her. “You said you wanted posies.”

“Thank you.”

The perfunctory statement of gratitude fell from her lips and landed on the floor with a thud. What had he done wrong this time?

After bidding the sheriff goodbye, Nicole directed the deliverymen to place the roses on the table in the dining room. A massive display, the flowers were absolutely gorgeous with their long stems, green leaves and sprigs of baby’s breath.

In the early years of their marriage, Dylan had often surprised Nicole with a bouquet of wildflowers he’d picked along the trail. The spontaneous gesture had delighted her. It had showed that he was thinking of her. He’d taken the trouble to dismount and gather brightly colored posies.

Roses from the florist weren’t the same. Anybody could pick up a phone and make a call.

With a sigh, she plucked one long-stemmed rose from the vase. This rich crimson would fit nicely into her plans for Christmas decorations, though she doubted her husband had considered the color from a decorating standpoint.

He stood close behind her. “Do you like them?”

“Of course.” He was trying, and she had to give him points for the effort. “Really, Dylan. They’re lovely.”

“Well,” Carolyn said as she came close and inhaled the somewhat overwhelming fragrance. “If you ask me—”

“Nobody asked,” her brother said. “Nobody ever asks, but it never stops you from talking.”

Ignoring Dylan, she continued, “I like the roses better than poinsettias. We’ll tie some green ribbons around the vases, and they’ll be perfect.”

“I want to get started decorating today,” Nicole said as she trailed the velvety rose petal along her cheek. “It’s only two weeks until Christmas. I’m kind of surprised that nothing’s been done.”

“Blame your husband,” Carolyn said. “Andrea and I were ready to deck the halls, but Dylan said no.”

Puzzled, Nicole asked, “Why wouldn’t you let them decorate?”

“Because that’s your job,” he said. “I know how much you love Christmas. There’s a story behind every ornament you hang on the tree. I told Carolyn we had to wait for you.”

“Really?” She remembered their meeting in the forest when she’d been forced at gunpoint to tell him she wanted a divorce. “How did you know I’d come back?”

The green in his corduroy shirt emphasized the color of his eyes. A deep red flushed his cheeks. “I knew you’d be home for Christmas.”

His trust touched her heart. No matter what she’d told him, he believed in her.
In their relationship
. She held out her hand. “The holidays have always been a special time.”

When his fingers laced through hers, she felt the old Dylan returning—the bashful cowboy who blushed and wasn’t afraid to show he cared. This was the man she’d fallen in love with.

“We’ve got things to do,” Carolyn said. “Fiona and her daughter are coming over this afternoon with Jesse
to help with the decorating. I’ll find Burke, and we’ll bring down the Christmas boxes from the attic.”

“And we need a tree,” Dylan said.

With the light snow falling, today would have been the perfect time to head out on horseback and search the forests until they spotted the perfect Christmas tree. Not too short or tall. The branches needed to be symmetrical.

She loved that tradition. But not this year. “We can’t go roaming through the forests. Not while Nate’s lurking around.”

“Not to worry,” Dylan said. “I have a plan.”

Curious, she followed him back to his office. “Another surprise? You’ve been busy this morning.”

“You inspire me, darlin’.”

As he sat her in one of the leather chairs facing the desk, his hand lingered on her shoulder. A gentle touch. A sweet reminder. She felt herself being drawn into the familiar pattern of their life together.

Dylan called a number on his cell phone. At the same time, he turned his computer screen around so it was facing her. After a brief consultation on the phone, he tapped a few strokes on the computer keyboard. A shaky picture appeared.

“It’s a live feed,” Dylan said. “I sent a couple of the ranch hands out to find you the perfect tree.”

Though nothing could be as good as their previous tree-chopping adventures, this was a decent substitute. She jumped to her feet and gave her husband a hug. “You’re a genius.”

“Not really.” He gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m just a thoughtful, sensitive guy with a great big heart.”

“And a great big ego to match.”

He turned the cell phone to speaker. “Talk to me, MacKenzie.”

“Sure thing, boss. This tree’s about ten feet tall.”

“Have one of the other guys stand next to it so we can compare.”

Nicole squinted at the image on the screen. “It’s lopsided. And too skinny.”

“We’ll keep looking,” MacKenzie said. “There’s a whole forest to choose from.”

“Turn the camera around,” she said. “I want to see who my Christmas elves are.”

“Don’t call me an elf, ma’am.”

“Of course not.” She recognized the other men with MacKenzie. One was Larry. The other had the nickname of Dirty Tom, though she’d never found out why. It was probably best she didn’t know. “Thank you, guys. I appreciate this.”

“Keep to the south sides of the hills,” Dylan said. “Those trees get more sun.”

The camera jostled as the cowboys mounted up and rode through the lightly falling snow. After fifteen minutes of directing them, Nicole still hadn’t spotted the right tree. But she was enjoying the search.

“This was a great idea, Dylan.”

“Just because we’re stuck inside the house, it doesn’t mean we can’t find the best Christmas tree.”

He was sitting beside her, looking pleased with himself. A half grin lifted the corner of his mouth. The laugh lines at the corners of his deep-set eyes crinkled.

“When you came down to your office,” she said, “I thought you’d be locked inside all day. Taking care of business.”

“I’ve got my priorities straight. My number-one project is titled Make Nicole Happy.”

“I’m even more important than the cattle?”

“You’re my little lost dogie that strayed. I need to bring you back to the herd.”

Being compared to an orphaned calf wasn’t exactly a compliment, but she appreciated the thought.

The office door whipped open, and Carolyn strode into the room. “We’ve got trouble. Take a look out front.”

Peering through the window, Nicole saw a news truck with a satellite dish on top. The television news crew had been stopped at the gate by the cowboys guarding the house. Even from this distance, she could see a woman reporter with microphone in hand.

“I’d better get out there,” Carolyn said, “before that pretty reporter convinces one of our guys to talk.”

“Give them the two-word response,” Dylan said. “No comment.”

“Thanks for the advice, baby brother, but I know how to handle the media.” She tossed her head, and her black ponytail flipped back and forth. “This might be a good opportunity for publicity.”

Nicole couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than media attention. She’d barely been able to tell her family the sketchy outline of what she’d endured. Having her story displayed in the media would be devastating. “Please, Carolyn. I don’t want my photograph next to the check-out line in the supermarket.”

“There’s no reason for you to feel bad. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You heard her,” Dylan said. “Give them a ‘no comment.’ That’s all.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it, okay.” Carolyn
stalked toward the door. “I won’t say one word about the kidnapping. But I’m not passing up the chance to talk about Carlisle Certified Organic Beef. National publicity won’t hurt our bottom line.”

Nicole returned to the chair facing the computer screen. The live feed showed a very nice lodgepole pine.

“How about this one?” MacKenzie asked.

Following her instructions, he circled the tree and knocked a dusting of snow from the branches. Her gaze was distracted. Though she tried to recapture her former mood of fun and celebration, the bubble had popped.

“The tree is great,” she said. “Chop it down.”

She heard a shout from Dirty Tom. The camera bobbled.

Dylan snapped, “What’s going on?”

“We got company,” MacKenzie said.

“Don’t take chances,” Dylan ordered. “Draw your weapons. Be prepared for an attack.”

The camera swung around, giving them a snowy view of what was happening. She saw Dirty Tom aim his rifle. The other man rode downhill. Melting snowflakes smeared the lens.

Over the cell phone she heard more shouting. This could be Nate, moving in for an attack. His threats focused on Dylan, but she wouldn’t put it past him to go after other employees at the Carlisle ranch. Nobody was truly safe until he was taken into custody.

Gripping the arms of the chair, she felt her body tense and the blood drain from her face. The only way to stop Nate was to obey him. He’d told her to get a cell phone and call him, but how could she? How could she betray Dylan?

“Tom got the drop on them,” MacKenzie said. “It’s two guys. What do you want us to do with them?”

“Turn the camera around,” Dylan said, “so I can see them.”

Through the lens they saw two men in parkas and stocking caps. One of them had a shoulder-mounted camera. The other held a microphone.

“Reporters,” Dylan muttered. “Go ahead and shoot them.”

Before MacKenzie took the boss at his word, Nicole jumped in. “Escort those gentlemen off our property. Don’t talk to them.”

“One of them says we can be on TV.”

“Listen to me,” Dylan said. His voice was harsh. “The first man who talks to the media is fired. Is that clear?”

“But we’ve got to say something.” MacKenzie sounded confused. “How are they going to know what to do unless we—”

“Talk about the weather. You can tell them your life story. Hell, you can whip out a guitar and sing them a song. But don’t talk about the kidnapping. Got it?”

“You bet, boss. We’ll get rid of these guys and come back for the tree.”

The live feed went dead, and Nicole slumped back in the chair. Her heart was beating fast. Though she was free of the chains Nate had used to keep her prisoner, she was still under his control. As long as he threatened, she couldn’t forget him or pretend that he didn’t exist.

When Dylan touched her shoulder, she flinched.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I thought it was Nate. That he was coming after MacKenzie and the other guys.”

“They’re okay, darlin’. Everything’s going to be fine.”

If only I could believe him
.

“Dylan, I need a cell phone.”

A
FTER LUNCH
, the Christmas tree was set up in the living room, the boxes of decorations had been brought down from the attic and Nicole was in the kitchen with Polly Sanchez and Andrea. There were gingerbread cookies in the oven and hot cinnamon punch on the stove.

Trying to absorb the festive spirit, Nicole inhaled. She wanted to see the day through a rosy glow, to enjoy the sounds of laughter and carols playing on the stereo. Santa Claus is coming to town. She hummed along. “You’d better watch out.” That was ominous. Who knew that Christmas had such dark undercurrents?
Watch out, watch out
…

Her ears pricked up as she heard a familiar voice from the front entryway. Doctor Maud Applegate.

She rushed down the hall and threw her arms around the tall, rosy-cheeked woman in a long, reddish-brown parka that made her look like a giant hot dog topped with a wild mop of curly blond hair. She trusted Doc Maud more than anyone but Dylan. Except, of course, when it came to fashion. Maud could diagnose ten different bovine parasites from a quick glance through a microscope, but she was incapable of putting together an outfit that matched.

Nicole looked up into her friend’s bright blue eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“It’s only been a couple of weeks.” Maud squeezed her again. “A lot’s happened. Oh, Nicole, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know you were coming. Did Dylan call you?”

“He did. And he wanted a favor.” Maud pulled away
from Nicole. “I’d like to introduce Doctor Sarah Lowell. She’s going to examine you and make sure you’re all right.”

Looking over his shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her clever husband. She’d told Dylan a dozen times that she didn’t need a doctor, but he knew she couldn’t refuse Maud. She politely greeted the attractive young doctor with straight brown hair and long bangs that covered her eyebrows.

Both women shed their coats, and Maud revealed her version of holiday finery—a green paisley jacket, red blouse and a giant Santa Claus belt buckle. There were various other bangles and dangles—earrings, bracelets and necklaces. She looked like a walking Christmas tree.

“I’ve got to ask,” Nicole said. “Where did you get all the jewelry?”

“You know how I do those talks in the grade school about pet safety? This year, the kids brought me gifts. I couldn’t decide which I liked best, so I’m wearing them all.”

Maud had always loved kids—a love made poignant by the fact that she couldn’t have children of her own.

“Shall we get started?” Dr. Lowell asked.

“We’ll go upstairs to my bedroom.” As they climbed the staircase, Nicole asked, “Are you new in town?”

“I’ve been here a couple of months. I’m on a reimbursement program that pays off some of my med-school debt if I take a job in a rural area.”

“How did you meet Maud?”

“It’s the same old story,” Maud said. “Girl moves to town, finds a stray cat, brings the kitty to the vet for shots and falls in love with my assistant, Tony.”

“Tony’s a great guy.” Nicole opened the door to her bedroom and escorted the other two women inside. “I’m afraid we’ve wasted your time in coming here, Sarah. There’s really nothing wrong with me.”

The young doctor’s expression turned serious. “You’d like to believe that you were completely untouched by being held captive for seven days?”

“Untouched?” Nicole frowned. “That wouldn’t be the word I’d choose.”

“Let’s sit over here by the window.”

The three women arranged themselves. Sarah took the chair Dylan had slept in last night. Nicole perched on the matching chair beside the table. Maud slipped off her loafers and sat cross-legged on the bed.

It seemed like an odd start to an examination.

Nicole asked, “Should I take my shirt off? Roll up the sleeves?”