The Colton Bride Read online

  “I know. It’s just that I thought I always knew who I was until Mia and Jagger started asking questions that created such doubts inside me.”

  Gray clapped Dylan on the shoulder. “We’re going to get those answers for you, Dylan. You might not know this, but Cath and I are an investigative team better than Sherlock Holmes and his man, Watson.”

  “I get to be Sherlock,” Catherine said jokingly, but her heart had taken flight at the sound of Gray calling her Cath. She hadn’t heard that name of sweet familiarity fall from his lips since he’d returned to the Dead River Ranch over four years ago.

  She’d didn’t want to dwell on how wonderful it made her feel now, on how much she’d missed hearing that simple nickname coming from his mouth.

  “Can we keep all these things for a while?” Gray asked, gesturing toward the legal documents on the table.

  “Sure. What are you going to do?” Dylan asked.

  “I’m not sure yet, but you let us take care of the investigation and you take care of my foremen duties while I’m honeymooning,” Gray replied. “We’ll let you know when we find out something concrete, but we can’t promise any results right away.”

  “I’ve waited this long, I can wait as long as it takes,” Dylan replied.

  Minutes later, he had left the room and Catherine picked up the birth certificate. She looked at it and then gazed at Gray curiously. “What is he afraid he’ll find out?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure, but you and I have some time on our hands and I’d rather find out anything bad and break it to Dylan gently than have him find out something bad on his own and try to deal with it without any support.”

  “You’re a good friend, Gray.” She’d always admired that about him.

  “Dylan is like a brother to me. We grew up together as best friends and his mother was like a surrogate mother to me.” He leaned back against the chaise with his arm stretched across the back. “So, Sherlock, since you are obviously the brains of this operation, exactly where do you suggest we begin?”

  * * *

  The next afternoon Catherine and Gray took off for Laramie where they could find a coffee shop with Wi-Fi capabilities. Internet and cell phone service at the ranch was spotty at best and Gray readily admitted to paranoia when it came to people listening in and spying on anything they might do at the ranch.

  The first thing they wanted to check out was the Bar None Ranch where Faye had told her son his father had worked as a ranch hand.

  It was a beautiful mid-October day. Once again that morning, Gray had found himself waking to the warmth of Cath. In sleep their bodies had melded together, legs tangled and snuggled together like lovers.

  He’d been grateful to slide out of bed first while she still slept and take a long cool shower. He had a feeling she’d be appalled to wake up and find herself in his arms.

  While she slept another half an hour and then showered and dressed, he’d sat on the chaise and looked at the photos of Dylan as a boy and as a teenager. Each photo evoked memories of Gray’s own childhood with Dylan, and as those memories filled him with the warmth of friendship, of brotherhood, he vowed to find answers to any questions that might haunt Dylan.

  “We shouldn’t have any problem finding a nice little coffee shop to make our base of operation,” Cath said, pulling him from his thoughts.

  He smiled inwardly. Base of operation. She talked like they were about to breach national security. She held her laptop computer in a bright pink case against her stomach, as if it might hold all the answers they sought to solve every problem in the universe.

  She looked cute as a bug with her eyes bright with excitement and clad in a pair of jeans and a pink-and-white sweater. Her hair hung long and silky below her shoulders and he now knew that it smelled of orange blossoms.

  He tightened his hands on the steering wheel, refusing to allow the sweet, fresh scent of her hair, the thought of her warm and curvy in his arms to arouse him.

  “Wouldn’t it be something if we discover that John Frick is actually still alive and working at the ranch?” She didn’t give him a chance to reply. “It would be wonderful if Dylan found out his father was alive and well and wanted a relationship with his son.”

  He gave her a quick glance then directed his attention back to the road. “You’re always looking for the happy endings.”

  “Everyone likes happy endings, and Dylan is a good man. He deserves his own happy ending.”

  “But if John Frick is alive and well, that means Dylan will have to assume that his mother took him and ran and never allowed him to have a relationship with his father, or his father never wanted anything to do with him. Either way, that sucks. I know how much Dylan missed having a father in his life.”

  “He was pretty close to your father, wasn’t he?”

  Gray nodded. “Dad had his hands full trying to father two hooligans running wild on the ranch. Dylan spent a lot of time with me and Dad, and Dad treated him like a second son.” As always thoughts of his father brought a sadness streaking through Gray. He missed the old man every day.

  “You know it’s possible Mia and Jagger brought up questions about Dylan and we’ll find out there’s nothing to question, that Faye was just a widow woman who brought her baby with her to the Dead River Ranch for a job,” Cath said.

  “For a little while I think they both wondered if Dylan was Cole,” Gray replied, unsurprised when Cath laughed.

  “That’s ridiculous and doesn’t make sense on any number of levels. Besides, they thought everyone who had brown hair and brown eyes might be Cole.”

  “I agree, but I understand Dylan’s need to find out if what his mother told him about her past was true. Don’t you ever wonder about your mother? Where she is and what she’s doing with her life?”

  “I wonder about her occasionally,” Cath admitted. “But now that I have a baby growing inside me, now that I feel a motherly love, I can’t imagine or excuse what she did when she just up and left us all. It was a selfish, horrid thing to do.”

  “That’s pretty much the way I feel about my mother,” Gray replied. He remembered as teenagers how often he and Cath had talked about their missing mothers, wondering what had been better, what had been more wonderful than being mothers to them?

  The ride was pleasant as the conversation turned to Gabby’s work with her troubled teens, little Cheyenne’s funniest antics and how nice it was to be away from the ranch for the day. She also reminded him about a charity event she had coming up in Cheyenne and that they would need to shop for a tuxedo for him.

  Gray couldn’t imagine himself in a tux and the last place on earth he wanted to find himself was in a hotel full of wealthy people for an evening. But his promise to her when he’d offered her this marriage of convenience was that she’d go where he went and he’d go wherever she needed to go.

  It was just after noon when they found the perfect place, a coffee shop that served hearty sandwiches, gourmet java and Wi-Fi. Cath slid into an empty booth and got out her laptop while Gray went to the counter and ordered sandwiches, chips and one regular and one decaf coffee.

  By the time he got back to the table she had her computer powered up and ready to work. “Eat first,” he said, sliding across from her with the tray of lunch items. She moved her computer from in front of her, obviously ready for something to eat.

  “I got you chicken salad,” he said as he placed the paper plate with sandwich and chips in front of her. “It sounded like a girly kind of food.”

  “What do you have? A whole steer on a bun?” she teased.

  He wondered when in the past two days they had become so comfortable with each other. “Complete with long horns to pick my teeth with afterward,” he replied and was rewarded by the melodic sound of her laughter.

  It was only after she’d finished her chicken salad sandwich and he’d eaten his double burger that he moved to her side of the booth and she pulled her laptop in front of her.

  “I think the fir
st thing we should do is search for the Bar None Ranch in Cody,” she said, her fingers dancing nimbly over the keys.

  “Sounds like a plan, partner.” He leaned closer. The search engine did its job and a link popped up for the ranch in question.

  “Well, at least we know the place exists,” Gray said, as always fighting against a rising desire at her nearness and the additional rush of hunting down concrete answers for Dylan.

  “And it is a guest dude ranch.” Cath smiled. “At least we know Faye told the truth about the ranch’s existence.”

  “Now all we need is to find out if a John Frick worked there thirty years ago.” He moved closer still, his thigh against hers while he viewed the page she’d pulled up. “There’s a phone number.” Gray pulled a cell phone out of his pocket, but was reluctant to use it inside the coffee shop.

  “Thirty years is a long time ago. Hopefully somebody there will remember a John Frick, especially if he died from a fall off a horse at the ranch. I would imagine something like that doesn’t happen every day.” Cath pulled a spiral-bound notebook from the pocket of the laptop case.

  Gray was amused to see that she’d titled the first page Stuck Like Glue Private Investigations. He sipped his coffee and watched her write down the name of the ranch, the website location and the contact information; both an email address and a phone number were listed.

  “I’ll try to call when we get outside,” he said. Although there was an afternoon lull in the coffee shop and Cody, Wyoming, was a long ways from where they sat, he didn’t want to have a conversation about John Frick with other people around. A little dose of paranoia was a good thing.

  “I’ll type in John Frick and see if anything interesting pops up,” she replied. Once again her dainty fingers moved and then a list of John Fricks filled the screen. “A doctor in Texas, an orthodontist in Maine, a musician in Mississippi, but no cowboy working in Wyoming and no old news reports of his death,” Cath said as she studied the screen.

  “I’m not really surprised. It was a long time ago and there would be no reason for his information to be out there on the internet.”

  “So, our next move is to call the ranch and find out if anyone remembers him,” Cath said, powering down her computer and packing it in her pink carrying case. When she’d finished she looked at Gray. “I hope somebody at the ranch remembers him. I hope that everything Faye told Dylan about herself and his father and Dylan’s birth was true.” She picked up the notebook she’d left out where she’d written the contact information for the Bar None Ranch.

  “That makes two of us,” Gray replied. The warmth of her thigh against his, the dizzying scent of her that wrapped around him forced him up and out of the booth. “Are we ready?” He’d make the phone calls to the Bar None Ranch from his truck and hope that somebody could answer his questions about the mysterious John Frick.

  When they settled in the truck, Cath read the number for the ranch from her notebook and Gray punched it into his cell phone. After two rings he connected with a woman named Sally. She was obviously a receptionist eager to make reservations for a visit to their working dude ranch, complete with fun activities for both children and adults.

  Gray waited patiently for her to give her spiel and then told her that he needed to know about the employment records from thirty years ago. “Is the owner around?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure he could help you even if he was here. The original owner of the ranch sold out ten years ago. The new owner lives in California and only comes here to check in a couple times a year,” Sally explained.

  Gray withheld a sigh. “Is there anyone at the ranch who might have been working there thirty years ago, anyone who might remember a particular wrangler who was there at the time?”

  “Mule. He’s our foreman and he’s been around forever. His real name is Mike Lawlor, but he’s always been known around here by the name of Mule.”

  “Could I speak to him?”

  “He’s someplace outside. I’d have to give you his cell number. Who are you and why do you need information about somebody who worked here thirty years ago?” A hint of suspicion had entered her voice.

  Gray looked at Cath, who had been watching him with an air of expectancy. She shrugged, as if to tell him she didn’t know what story he should tell the woman. Gray opted for a half truth.

  “I’m a private investigator and I’ve been hired by John Frick’s son. The son was separated from his father by his mother when he was a baby. His mother has recently died and John’s son is desperate to connect with his father who we believe worked there at one time. We’re hoping this is at least a starting point for us to reunite a father and son.”

  Apparently, Sally had a soft heart. As she reeled off Mule’s phone number, Cath wrote it down in her notebook.

  Gray disconnected from Sally and gazed at the woman next to him.

  “Shouldn’t there be employment records kept?” she asked.

  “Probably, but you have to remember we’re talking about thirty years ago. I know how many wranglers we have coming and going at the Dead River Ranch and I imagine it was the same for the Bar None over the years. Half of our records are probably shoved someplace in a rotting cardboard box. It’s only been in the past three years that we’ve started keeping records with a computer.”

  “So, we’re left with a man named Mule to answer our questions,” Cath replied.

  “I’d trust an old man named Mule to remember past employees before I’d count on an owner who lives out of state and only visits a couple times a year.” Gray punched in Mule’s phone number.

  A deep, smoky voice answered. “Mule here. What do you want?”

  Gray went through his story of being a private investigator seeking John Frick who was last known to be working as a wrangler on the Bar None ranch and who had died from a fall off a horse.

  “Nobody named John Frick ever worked at this Bar None Ranch,” Mule replied with certainty. “And we sure as hell have never had a man die from falling off a horse on this property. You’ve got the wrong Bar None, buddy.”

  “You’re positive there was never a man named John Frick working there?” Gray pressed.

  “As positive as I am that by the end of the day my old bones and arthritis will make me want to cry like a girl,” Mule replied. “I’ve been foreman here for forty years, and I remember every cowboy who has ever worked for me, and somebody named John Frick never worked here.” Before Gray could respond, Mule disconnected.

  “Do you believe him?” Cath asked.

  Gray nodded. “Unfortunately I do. My father was a Mule. When he was foreman at Dead River Ranch he could name all the men who had ever drifted through and worked for him, whether it had been for hours or for years.”

  Cath’s features displayed her dismay. “So, right now we have to go on the possibility that Faye lied about a John Frick.”

  “At least she lied about what he did and where he worked,” Gray agreed.

  “Then what’s our next move?”

  Gray frowned thoughtfully. “We need to check out the validity of that marriage and birth certificate, but short of taking the ride to Cody, I’m not sure how we accomplish that.” Cody would be a long ride, requiring a day of travel, an overnight and then another day to travel home. “And I’m not even sure we’d be allowed to access any records of another person.”

  “I think I know somebody who could help us with that,” Cath said.

  “Who?”

  She shook her head with an air of mystery. “Let me talk to her and see if she’s willing to help out and then I’ll tell you who and where.”

  “Partners aren’t supposed to have secrets from each other, especially married ones,” Gray said in a teasing voice.

  “You can’t use that argument effectively against me,” she replied, her eyes a shade darker than they’d been a moment before. “We both know this is nothing like a real marriage and this partnership will dissolve the minute any danger to me has passed.”

>   “You’re right,” he agreed, surprised that he managed an even tone at the same time a tinge of anger welled up inside him. He started the truck engine and cursed himself because for just a little while as they’d enjoyed the ride together, as they’d sat side by side in the booth, he’d almost believed that they were real, that he’d be in her life forever.

  Her words had simply slammed reality back into his head, reminding him that this marriage was nothing more than a temporary solution to a problem that would hopefully go away soon.

  Chapter 12

  It took Catherine two days to connect with her friend Jewel Dempsy and ask for her help concerning the validation of Faye’s marriage license and Dylan’s birth certificate. During those two days Gray had been quiet. He had retreated into the cool indifference she’d suffered from him for the four years before he’d come to her rescue with this marriage of sorts.

  Although Gray’s mood had changed, their routine hadn’t. They slept together, spent the days together and ate meals together and with the rest of the family in the evenings. They’d spent one afternoon getting a tux for Gray to wear the following night to the charity event in Cheyenne, which Cath had already agreed to attend.

  The difference in Gray was that she felt as if a switch had been snapped off inside him. The shine in his eyes was gone, there was no attempt to connect to her with any humor. He was just doing his job of being her bodyguard and nothing more. No matter how many times she told herself this was the way it should be, she missed the Gray who had been with her for the first couple of days before their trip into Laramie.

  He now stood at the window in the suite, his broad back straight and tension wafting from him like a physical entity in the air.

  Catherine had just disconnected with Jewel on the phone. “We have an appointment tonight at nine o’clock with my friend.”

  He turned from the window, his features set in stone, his eyes flat and dark brown with no hint of sparkling depths. “And what is your friend’s name?”