Cowboy Under Fire Read online

  Dillon shook his head. “I don’t know, Forest. I just think she’s an angry woman at heart.”

  “No,” Forest countered. “Her heart is soft and sweet. She just doesn’t access it very often. I think she’s had to be tough for most of her life.”

  “At least she always calms down when you’re around. All I know is that this is the crime scene from hell and I can only hope I never have to deal with something like this again for the rest of my life.” Dillon’s eyes were the color of cold steel.

  “I swear to God if this killer is still around this area, I won’t rest until he’s behind bars. I’ve also contacted every law enforcement agency in the state to see if anyone else has dealt with anything like this.”

  “And has anyone?” Forest asked.

  Dillon shook his head. “No, nothing like this mass grave of bones where the victims have been killed at different times. There have been crimes of mass murder in various counties across the state, but those have all been solved and the killers are in prison, and none of them involved a meat cleaver or a weapon like one.”

  “And still no word on who might have shot at Patience and me?”

  “Raymond Humes insisted that he was having a meeting with his men at the time of the shooting and all of them were present. I’ve got Janis Little down at the Watering Hole listening to drunks’ conversations and Daisy at the café doing the same, hoping that somebody will slip up and say something to indict themselves or somebody else. But so far nothing.”

  “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t keeping a name from me to keep me from breaking a head,” Forest replied.

  Dillon smiled wearily. “I’d be more afraid of giving Patience a name and having her break a head.”

  Forest smiled at the idea of the warrior woman taking on anyone. Of course, Forest would never allow her to face any threatening man without him standing between them.

  He and Dillon reached the corral, and after a bit of small talk, Dillon left. Forest remained outside of the corral. It was too late to continue working with the horse. Within less than an hour, he’d be pulling Patience out of the tent to clean up for supper.

  It would be another evening of watching her interact with the cowboys and maybe sitting outside his room for a little meaningless conversation. She’d eventually retire to her room and he’d go to his with his heart already beginning to break because he knew it was mere days now and then she’d be gone forever.

  Chapter 12

  Patience sat next to Forest in the dining room and wondered vaguely when she’d gotten so comfortable here among all of the ranch hands, and with Forest.

  Nothing and nobody else in her life had managed to distract her from her work, but Forest and his buddies always stole thoughts of her job away as she listened to them laugh and talk with both her and each other.

  Tonight she needed to be distracted more than ever. The mystery of the missing fingers had been shocking. She’d worked lots of crime scenes in her short career, but nothing like this one.

  The idea that the person responsible for such carnage might also be after her would have chilled her through and through if Forest wasn’t at her side. She cast him a quick glance and smiled. Just looking at him made her feel happy and safe.

  Happy. It was such an alien emotion for her. She was always satisfied when she finished with a crime scene. She was relatively content when reading her tabloids and munching on cheese puffs in the silence of her room. But she’d never experienced the kind of happy she’d found here.

  “You wouldn’t have really thrown me into the top of the corn silo, would you?” she now asked Forest, keeping her voice low enough that the others at the picnic table wouldn’t hear her.

  “Never,” he replied and turned to look at her. “Being in a corn silo on the corn is dangerous. The corn swallows you up and you eventually suffocate. But if you’d continued heading in the direction of misplaced anger with Dillon, I wasn’t averse to throwing you over my shoulder and taking you to one of the outbuildings and locking you up until you calmed down.”

  His eyes glittered with that teasing light that always created a pool of heat in the pit of her stomach. She loved the sound of his laughter, the quiet, often thoughtful talks they shared just before she retired for the night.

  She was going to miss him desperately when she left here. She would miss that glimmer in his eyes and the fresh scent of him. She would miss his wonderful sense of humor and the way he managed to defuse her anger whenever she needed to be defused.

  Most of all she would miss his soft touch, his heated kisses and the way he made her want to stop with her temper tantrums and learn to communicate her feelings better.

  She hadn’t told him yet that she and Devon could probably finish things up in the tent by tomorrow evening. She didn’t want to admit to herself that she almost hated leaving here...leaving Forest.

  “I heard you finished up with the sixth skeleton and are finishing up with the surprise seventh,” Sawyer said, his copper-colored eyes gazing at her. “Any clues yet as to who might be the killer?”

  “You’d have to ask Dillon about the investigation. I really shouldn’t talk about any of my findings,” she replied.

  She wasn’t trying to be secretive and she certainly hadn’t unearthed any clues, but her own code of ethics didn’t allow her to discuss her findings with anyone except the authorities. Besides, the grapevine around here seemed to know what was going on in the tent almost before it happened.

  She could only hope that Devon shared that belief, especially when he was in town and dining or hanging out with the locals, including members of the Humes ranch.

  The few Humes cowboys she’d met that night at the café had been uncouth and disrespectful. The men who surrounded her now were a different kind of animal, and like Forest, she found it difficult to believe that any of them could be guilty of the murders.

  Although she couldn’t know at this point for sure, she guessed that all of the seventh skeleton was there to be pieced together, leaving only the number-seven missing skull and number-five’s missing fingers.

  Dillon had his work cut out for him. It would be far too easy for this particular old crime to quickly become a cold case due to his inability to move any investigation forward.

  Not my problem, she told herself. All she had to do tomorrow was complete the job of piecing together skeleton seven and then finish up with final notes. If and when Dillon managed to solve the crime, she’d already be long gone, probably working a new site and eating too many cheese puffs and entertaining herself by reading the tabloids.

  Dinnertime ended as it always did, with many of them seated on sofas and listening to Mac McBride play his guitar and sing.

  Patience found herself relaxing against Forest’s side, warmed by his nearness and at peace with the familiar scent and contours of his body.

  After several beautiful songs, Forest and Patience left the dining room. “Do you want to sit outside for a little while?” he asked when they reached the rooms.

  “That sounds nice,” she agreed, knowing that the end of her time here was quickly approaching.

  He opened his room door and pulled out the two folding chairs they used whenever they sat outside. He unfolded them and they both sat beneath the pale light of the moon.

  They were quiet for several minutes. Patience gazed up at the star-lit sky, listened to the night insects singing their songs and drew a deep breath of the distinctive scent of the ranch and the man seated next to her.

  “You’ll be leaving here soon.” Forest broke the silence.

  She looked at him, his features bathed in the moonlight. “I’m expecting to finish up with the last skeleton sometime tomorrow and then the next day I’ll write up final reports for Dillon. Once that’s done then we’ll pull out and head back home.”

&nbs
p; “Then I guess I should take advantage of the time I have left with you.”

  She tensed. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean there are still so many things I don’t know about you, like what is your favorite color?” His voice was light and laid-back.

  She wanted to ask him what difference it made, but instead she answered him. “That’s easy. It’s purple. What about you?”

  “The blue of a clear Oklahoma sky,” he replied. “Favorite food?”

  “Two months ago I would have easily answered that it was cheese puffs, but now it’s probably Cookie’s barbecue beef or maybe the fried potatoes and onions he makes.”

  “We definitely agree on that one. I’d ask you what your favorite movie is, but I haven’t been to a theater in years and I suspect you haven’t, either.”

  “The only movie I remember going to was some kid movie when I was about five. My mother took me and cried through the whole thing. Even though I was young, I was mortified.”

  “She must have been a very unhappy woman.”

  Patience frowned and tried to think about the woman who had left her. “I guess,” she finally replied. She’d never really thought about her mother being unhappy before.

  “So tell me. What’s the latest Hollywood gossip you’ve gotten from those tabloids you read?” he said in an obvious effort to change the topic of conversation.

  “To be honest, I haven’t read one for a couple of days now.” She looked at him once again and then turned away. This was the strangest conversation they’d ever shared. Although on the surface his tone seemed light, she sensed a simmering tension beneath the pleasant tone.

  She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she didn’t want the conversation to go any deeper. She was afraid of what he might say.

  “I should probably head inside and get a good night’s sleep,” she said. She rose from the chair and pulled out her room key.

  “But it’s still early,” he protested.

  “I know, but I’d like to get an earlier start than usual in the morning.”

  Forest also stood. “Then I guess I’ll be ready whenever you are.” He hesitated a moment. “Good night, Patience,” he finally said.

  “’Night, Forest,” she replied and entered her room. She changed into her nightgown and got into bed with a tabloid to read before going to sleep.

  She flipped through several pages but found herself unengaged by the words and the pictures. Instead her head was filled with thoughts of everyone she had met and interacted with here on the ranch, people who obviously had a depth of caring for each other.

  It had been like stepping on to an alien planet, so different from her isolation and cold environment of science. She closed the tabloid, shoved it back under the bed and then turned out the overhead light and got back into bed.

  Her head filled with a vision of Forest. Yes, she was going to miss him when she returned to her own life. But they were never meant to be together. The best thing she could do for him was get out of here so he could find the woman who believed in love and family and happily-ever-after.

  * * *

  Cassie sat on the end of her mattress and stared at the wall opposite her bed, a small niggle of guilt wiggling through her. When she had first arrived at the ranch, the wall had held twelve pictures, each one of Cass with a different one of her young “cowboys.”

  Her aunt’s face had radiated pride and love in each of the twelve photos, and it was telling that those pictures would be the first thing Cass would see when she awoke each morning.

  Now those photos were stored away in a box on the top shelf of the closet hidden by dozens of shoe boxes of high heels she’d foolishly packed to come here. Instead the wall held an array of watercolors and oil paintings that Cassie had completed while she’d been here.

  The images now on the wall were of the city she longed for, neon signs shimmering in a rain storm, a busy street of shoppers and a skyscraper with the morning sun beaming off glass windows.

  If she closed her eyes, she could feel the heat from the sidewalks, smell the exhaust of buses and hear the honking of impatient taxi drivers.

  Her store had sold clothing Nicolette found at discount rates by no-name designers and also original artwork painted by Cassie. Nicolette had since bought out her part of the business from Cassie, allowing her to pay the rent and utilities on the storefront for a couple more months.

  After those months were up, Cassie had no idea what she’d do to keep the store open if she didn’t sell the ranch by then. She was sitting on a gold mine. Raymond Humes had already contacted her to let her know if and when she decided to sell out, he wanted the first opportunity to buy the place.

  Cassie knew her Aunt Cass would roll over in her grave if she sold the ranch to the silver-haired vulture next door, but Cassie had to think about maintaining her store. At the moment she was land-wealthy and relatively cash-poor, and rent wasn’t cheap in New York.

  She not only had to worry about rent and utilities at the store, but also on the apartment she hadn’t given up when she’d come to Oklahoma.

  She’d taken down the photos of her aunt with all the cowboys because each morning when she’d awakened and looked at them, they represented the past. The array of paintings that now greeted her each morning was the hope of a return to the future she’d always dreamed of for herself.

  When she got back to New York City, her plan was to turn the entire storefront into an art gallery that would showcase not only her own work but also some of the street artists she found talented and undiscovered. She would make a success of it and prove all of the naysayers wrong.

  She knew she was talented, and when she got back to the city she would work especially hard to assure her success. At least spending time on the ranch had given her a new work ethic.

  All she had to do was get the crime scene gone from the property. Once Dillon released the land, she could put it up for sale and get back to where she belonged.

  She didn’t want to think about the men who worked here and what might happen to them when the ranch sold. It felt like breaking up a family, but she reminded herself that they were all grown men and perfectly capable of taking care of themselves. Ultimately she wasn’t responsible for them.

  She turned on the lamp on the nightstand and then went into the adjoining bath and got ready for bed. It was still relatively early, but she’d grown accustomed to ranch hours, which meant getting up with the sun and going to bed before ten.

  Besides, the night before she’d begun to read the earliest of the diaries she’d found in the outbuilding written by her Aunt Cass.

  To her surprise the diary was the thoughts of the young town girl Cass had once been when she’d first met her future husband, handsome rancher Hank Holiday.

  Cassie was actually enjoying reading the musings of a young woman falling in love and determined to get her man. Even though she knew the sad ending of Hank’s death from cancer and Cassie’s being killed in a tornado, she was surprised to discover that she liked reading about the journey the two had taken together.

  When she sold the ranch, she’d dig out all of the other diaries that were in the outbuilding and have them shipped to New York. Nobody else would care about them but her and she felt a closeness with her aunt that she’d never felt from her own parents.

  She climbed back into bed and picked up the old, yellow-paged book from the nightstand. Although Cass had left the ranch to Cassie, Cassie hadn’t known her aunt very well.

  She might not be keeping the ranch alive, but she could keep Cass alive by reading her story and maybe someday passing it on to children of her own.

  She must have dozed off, for somehow she knew she was dreaming, and in her dreams she was standing next to each of the cowboys on the ranch while their pictures were taken together.

 
Cass stood nearby, smiling her approval, her blue eyes filled with affection as she looked at each of the “boys” she’d taken on and loved.

  The scene shifted and Cassie was pounding a for-sale sign into the grassy area near the road in front of the property. Cass stood nearby, her eyes blazing in anger as she wielded her infamous bullwhip and hit the sign, taking it down to the ground.

  Cassie came awake and sat straight up in bed, her heart pounding. She drew in a deep breath and waited for the last vestige of the dream to leave her.

  She wasn’t sure what worried her more: the idea that somebody working on the ranch might be a killer, or selling the ranch and possibly being visited nightly for the rest of her life by the very angry ghost of Cass.

  Chapter 13

  It was just after noon when Devon left the tent and disappeared into the nearby big white van. Forest carried a sack lunch toward the tent. He assumed Patience had dismissed Devon for the lunch hour and it had been habit for Forest to provide Patience with a sandwich.

  “Lunch time,” he called from the tent entrance. He peeked a head in, not seeing Patience seated on her usual chair for the noon hour.

  “You can come on in.” Her voice drifted from the left of him, and he stepped in to see her leaned over the bone pit. He tried not to notice how cute her butt looked in the denim shorts.

  She straightened up and blew upward to move a strand of her hair from her forehead. “It’s almost done. There’s just a few bones left. I told Devon to go inside and start packing up the equipment.”

  “Then you should be feeling pretty good.” He spoke around the lump that had risen in his throat at her words.

  “I’m definitely feeling hungry.” She took the bag from him. “Thanks.” She sat on her chair and to his surprise gestured him to a nearby chair. She used a sanitary wipe to clean her hands and then opened up the bag and pulled out the sandwich.

  She took a bite and chased it with a sip of one of her sodas. “I’m going to miss Cookie’s sandwiches,” she said. “He makes the best.”