Читать книгу Lassoed - B.J. Daniels - Страница 7

Duane woke in his car, cramped and out of sorts. He couldn’t believe he’d had to spend the entire night in a fairgrounds parking lot in the middle of nowhere.

As he climbed out, he looked into the front seat of his father’s classic pickup, expecting to see Billie Rae curled up there. He’d been so sure she would return, probably with some cowboy with a can of gas for the pickup and some romantic ideas for her.

But he hadn’t heard a sound all night and the pickup front seat was empty. No Billie Rae. With a curse, Duane realized he was going to have to call his boss and ask for some time off.

As for his wife, he didn’t know what to do. First, he supposed, he would search for her himself. Someone had to have seen her. If that failed … Well, he might have to contact a couple of associates he’d met through his work. The nice thing about his job was that he met people who could and would do things for him that he’d rather not do himself. A little pressure here, a little pressure there, and people knew better than to say no to him.

He pulled out his cell phone, swearing under his breath as he punched in the number and asked for his boss. The last thing he’d do was admit the truth. He didn’t want anyone to know what the bitch had done, how she’d made him look like a fool, let alone that he couldn’t handle his own wife. He’d never live it down if his buddies found out about this. Other men lost respect for a man whose wife ran off on him.

No, he would take care of this himself and no one back home would be the wiser. That is, as long as he found Billie Rae fast. And one way or the other, he’d have to convince her never to pull something like this again. Either that or his lovely wife would end up dead, a terrible accident that would leave him a grieving widower—and free to find him a wife who knew her place.

He came up with a lame excuse, but his boss seemed to buy it. As he hung up, he told himself it was now time to deal with the mess Billie Rae had made. Walking around to the driver’s side, Duane unlocked the pickup with his key and stared into it for a long moment, thinking about Billie Rae taking it. The truck had been his father’s, purchased new almost fifty years before. His old man had loved this pickup and cared for it like a baby.

Hell, Duane had never even gotten to drive it until the old man died. His mother had been the one to give it to him—had his father known he was going to fall over dead with a heart attack he would have made other arrangements for his beloved classic pickup.

But Duane’s mother hated the truck and resented the time and money and care the old man had put into it. She’d given it to Duane out of spite, knowing his father was now rolling over in his grave to think that his son had the truck. Which made Duane even angrier that Billie Rae had the impudence to take it. The woman must be crazy. No one drove this pickup but him.

As he slid behind the wheel, he saw that she’d left the key in the ignition and swore. Her lack of respect … He couldn’t wait to get his hands on her.

He reached to turn the key and saw that it was the spare he kept locked up. She’d broken into his desk? He hadn’t even been aware she knew where he kept the spare key.

Duane felt that strange chill creep over him again. Billie Rae had been watching him, paying more attention than he’d thought.

He turned the key. The engine refused to turn over. That’s when he saw the gas gauge. She’d run out of gas. That’s why she’d stopped here.

The tap on his side window startled him. For an instant, he’d expected to see Billie Rae standing there instead of some old guy in a plaid shirt and a baseball cap.

“Trouble getting her started?” the old man asked.

Duane realized the man must be the caretaker in charge of the fairgrounds. He hadn’t heard him drive up. Duane climbed out, pocketing the truck key.

“The wife. She didn’t check the gas gauge before she headed to the rodeo.”

The old man laughed and shook his head. “I’m surprised you let her drive this. A 1962 Chevy Fleetside Shortbed with a Vortec 350, right?”

Duane nodded as he watched the caretaker run his hand over the hood. His old man had to be turning flips in his casket. He’d never let anyone touch his truck.

“You don’t happen to have a few gallons of gas I could buy from you to get her into town, do you?” Duane asked.

“I haven’t seen her around town,” the man said frowning, still talking about the pickup. “You new to Whitehorse?”

So Whitehorse must be the closest town. “You could say that. If I had a hose, I could siphon some gas out of my car,” Duane said impatiently.

“No need for that. I keep some extra gas for the lawnmower.”

Duane followed the man back to a shed, waited while he unlocked the padlock on the door and went inside, returning with a small gas can that felt about half full.

“I’ll bring this right back,” he said, hoping the man wouldn’t come with him. He hurried off, returning shortly, and handed the man the gas can and a twenty-dollar bill. “Thanks for your help.” He had a thought. “Hey, is there any chance I could leave the pickup in one of your barns out here. My wife is tied up and I need to get back to her. I can’t come back to get the truck for a while.”

“No problem. You can just pull it in that one,” the old man said pointing at the closest barn. “It will be plenty safe there until you can pick her up.”

“Great,” he started to turn away telling himself he had no choice since he couldn’t drive two vehicles and who knew when he’d find Billie Rae. Nor did he want anyone else driving the truck.

“You’re going to have to teach your wife to watch that gas gauge,” the old man called after him with a chuckle.

He was going to have to teach his wife a lot of things when he found her.

“GOOD MORNING,” BILLIE RAE said shyly from the kitchen doorway.

Tanner looked up. He’d been sitting at the kitchen table having a cup of coffee with Emma, who’d been chastising him.

He knew she was right. He’d fallen for a woman who was not just married—but in a very vulnerable state right now. He should have known better than to get more involved with her for not just his sake but hers as well.

When he met her gaze now, he was afraid he would see regret in her eyes. The morning light brought out the gold flecks in those eyes. With relief, he saw that they were free of regret. Their eyes locked and, after a moment, a slight flush came to her cheeks before she looked away.

They’d made love and fallen back to sleep in each other’s arms. When he’d awakened this morning, she’d looked so beautiful and so serene lying there, he hadn’t wanted to wake her.

He looked down into his coffee cup now, checking his expression as he felt Emma’s watchful gaze on him. She’d already given him hell, telling him that she couldn’t bear to see him get his heart broken and Billie Rae wasn’t ready for another relationship.

“Sleep well?” Emma asked smiling as she handed Billie Rae a mug of coffee.

“Yes, thank you,” Billie Rae said dropping her gaze and blushing as she took the mug and sat down in a chair across from Tanner.

Tanner smiled across the table at her. She looked a hundred percent better than she had last night at the rodeo. There was no longer that deer-in-the-head-lights look in her eyes. Her long dark hair was still damp from her shower. He caught a whiff of her now too-familiar scent. She smelled heavenly. He couldn’t help but think about their lovemaking and wish he had awakened her this morning.

Emma refilled his coffee cup, giving him another of her knowing looks. This one held a warning he couldn’t ignore. He knew making love with Billie Rae shouldn’t have happened. Legally, she was a married woman. But to his way of thinking, Duane had broken the vows, destroying that fragile thing that made a marriage.

He knew Emma was worried about him getting too close to Billie Rae and getting his heart broken. But he wondered if it wasn’t already too late. Damned if he would ever regret what had happened between them, no matter what today brought. He didn’t kid himself. He knew that Duane was still out there looking for Billie Rae—and that she knew it as well. Whatever was going to transpire between them, it wasn’t over yet.

Emma kept up a cheerful chatter as she and the cook, Celeste, served homemade pancakes with huckleberry syrup. Tanner watched Billie Rae put away a dozen of the silver-dollar-sized cakes, smiling to himself. A good appetite was a sure sign that she was bouncing back.

“She doesn’t want to hear any of this,” Tanner said after Emma told a particularly funny story she’d heard about him as a boy. Billie Rae was smiling, looking relaxed, looking as if she belonged in this kitchen.

“I wish you’d gotten a chance to meet my husband Hoyt,” Emma was saying. “He could tell you some stories about his boys. But Hoyt’s off digging fence post holes with Tanner’s brothers.”

Hoyt hadn’t been home last night when Tanner and Marshall returned from the rodeo with Billie Rae. Tanner’s father, according to Emma, had been at a ranchers’ association meeting about some rustlers operating across the border in Wyoming.

It was odd, though, that Hoyt had already taken off so early this morning. Tanner hadn’t even seen him before he left. His father had been putting in long hours recently, almost as if avoiding home.

He frowned at the thought and hoped everything was all right between his father and Emma. He and his brothers hadn’t been happy when their father had sprung a new wife on them. But once they’d been around Emma for five minutes, they too had fallen in love with her.

Tanner was told she was nothing like Hoyt’s other wives. He’d been too young to remember Laura, his father’s first wife. She’d drowned in a boating accident. Tasha, his father’s second wife, Tanner had heard was killed by a runaway horse.

A third wife, Krystal, had disappeared shortly after Hoyt had brought her to the ranch. Tanner vaguely remembered her. After all that tragedy, his father had gone years without a woman in his life.

Then, out of the blue, he’d come home with Emma. She was older, closer to Hoyt’s age, more full-figured, redheaded and had a fiery temper that had earned her respect from all of the men in the family. She’d changed things around here, but in a good way. And Tanner had never seen his father happier. Until recently, when he seemed to be avoiding being home.

“What would you like to do first this morning?” he asked Billie Rae after breakfast.

“Is there a pawnshop or jewelry store in Whitehorse?”

Tanner shook his head. “But there are several in Havre. I’d be happy to drive you.”

“No, I couldn’t possibly ask you—”

“You didn’t ask. I’m volunteering, unless you need to go back to the fairgrounds for your vehicle?”

“The pickup I was driving isn’t mine.”

“Then I guess we don’t need to worry about it.”

She nodded but he saw the dark cloud move over her eyes. She had a lot to worry about. They both did. She was worried about Duane, and Tanner was worried that this woman who had come crashing into his life would leave it just as suddenly.

“It’s a nice drive to Havre,” he said. “We’ll have lunch and shop for whatever you need. I could use the day off, but don’t tell my stepmother.”

Emma swatted him as she passed.

Billie Rae nodded, tears in her eyes. “You have all been so kind. I really wish—”

“No regrets.” Emma stopped next to her chair to lay a hand on her shoulder. “No tears, either, not on such a beautiful morning,” she said. “You two best get goin’. Make sure Billie Rae gets whatever she needs in Havre.” Emma pressed a wad of cash into Tanner’s hand along with another silent warning look.

He was to make sure nothing happened to Billie Rae and that he didn’t make things worse for her—as if he hadn’t already.

“We’ll be fine,” he told his stepmother. He had a shotgun in his pickup, and this morning he’d put a pistol under the seat. He wasn’t taking any chances—he’d already done that last night.

SHERIFF MCCALL CRAWFORD looked up to find a young woman standing in front of her desk.

“There wasn’t anyone out front,” the teenager said, looking nervous. She was slightly built, though tall and regal in appearance. Her straight shoulder-length hair was white blond, her eyes a clear, disarming blue. She had a pretty face that belied how young she really was, since on closer inspection McCall realized she was no more than a girl, probably not even out of high school.

“Can I help you?” McCall asked the girl.

“You’re the sheriff?” She glanced at the open door and the name stenciled on it. “I thought the sheriff’s name was Winchester?”

“I recently got married.” It had been more than a year and a half, but McCall was wondering why she’d bothered to change her name, since everyone in town still called her Sheriff Winchester. “Why don’t you have a seat and tell me what seems to be the problem.”

“It’s my aunt, Aggie Wells,” the girl said as she pulled up one of the orange plastic chairs across from McCall’s desk and sat down. “She’s missing.”

“How long has she been missing?”

“Several weeks now.”

Several weeks? “Why have you waited this long to report her missing, Miss … ? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Cindy Ross. My aunt is gone a lot with her job. But this time she didn’t call or come home.”

“Where is home?”

“Phoenix, Arizona. That’s where I live with my father.”

“And your aunt?”

“She stays with us when she’s in town. Like I said, she travels a lot but she calls me every few days from wherever she is and always calls on Sunday.”

“So you haven’t heard from her since …”

“The second week of May, that Sunday. She called to say she would be flying home that afternoon.”

“Called from … ?”

“Here. Whitehorse. She said she was driving to Billings, leaving her rental car and would be coming in on the last flight. I was to pick her up but she wasn’t on the plane.”

“And there has been no word?”

“No. My dad said something must have come up with her job.” The girl looked down in her lap. “But when I called her office, they said she’d been fired a long time ago.” She looked up, tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid something has happened to her.”

“What does your father think?” The girl met her gaze, but didn’t respond. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“He says Aggie can take care of herself and that she’ll turn up. But I have a bad feeling …”

McCall didn’t like the sound of any of this. She picked up her pen. “Your aunt’s name is Aggie Wells?”

“Agatha, but she’s always gone by Aggie. She’s an insurance investigator. That is, she was.”

“What was she doing in Whitehorse?”

“She said she was trying to prove that some man murdered all three of his wives.”

McCall’s head shot up from taking notes.

The girl nodded knowingly. “I thought you might know about the cases. The man’s name is Hoyt Chisholm. Aggie told me that he killed his first three wives and now he has married again. Her last appointment was with him and his new wife. She said they’d invited her out to their house for supper.”

McCall was unable to hide her surprise. Everyone in town knew about the deaths of Hoyt’s first two wives, and the disappearance of the third one.

The recent scuttlebutt throughout the county was about his new wife. McCall had heard that some residents were taking odds over at Whitehorse Café, betting how long this wife would be alive.

“My aunt told me that if anything happened to her, I was to make sure that Hoyt Chisholm didn’t get away with another murder.” The girl burst into tears. “I know he killed her.”

BILLIE RAE FOUND HERSELF enjoying more than the ride to Havre. Tanner pointed out landmarks and told her stories. She knew he was trying to keep her entertained, to distract her from thinking about her life and Duane.

But the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about, sitting this close to Tanner, was last night. He had been so tender, so heartbreakingly sweet. She had cried after they’d made love.

“What is it?” Tanner had asked, sounding stricken.

How could she tell him that she felt she’d ruined her life by marrying Duane? That she’d lost her chance to be with someone like Tanner. Duane was going to kill her. Or at the very least, have her living in fear and on the run the rest of her life.

She could never be with Tanner again. As it was, she feared she had already put him and his family in danger.

“I forgot what happiness feels like,” she had finally choked out. He’d held her and she’d spooned against him, relishing the warmth of his body and the way this man made her feel, dreading when the sun would come up and she would have to leave him.

“That’s the town of Wagner down there,” Tanner said now, pointing at the few buildings left. It appeared most of the towns along the Hi-Line were shrinking, some little more than a sign and a couple of old buildings.

“Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid held up a train not far from here,” he said. “It was allegedly their last robbery before they headed to South America.”

The day had dawned clear blue, sunny and warm. The land was a brilliant spring-green and, with the windows down, the air blowing in smelled of summer. It was the kind of day she remembered from when she was a girl and still had her illusions about life.

Billie Rae breathed in the sweet scents, catching a hint of Tanner’s masculine one. When she was with him, she felt her strength coming back. Duane had done his best to beat it out of her. She was almost surprised that she could feel like her old self. But Tanner reminded her of who she’d been. Who she could be again—except for Duane who was determined to kill every ounce of independence in her.

She tried not to think about where he was or what he was doing. She knew he would be furious wherever he was. Just as she knew he would be frantically looking for her and wouldn’t stop until he found her.

She shuddered at the thought.

“Warm enough?” Tanner asked, noticing.

“Someone just walked over my grave.” She regretted the quick retort immediately. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” he said and quickly pointed out an old Spanish mission on the road ahead. She was glad he didn’t mention Duane, but neither of them had forgotten about him, she knew. She’d caught Tanner checking the rearview mirror occasionally—just as she had been doing in the side mirror.

Duane would not give up. She just had to make sure he never found her—or learned that Tanner Chisholm had been the one who’d saved her last night.

Hopefully Duane would also never learn about this trip to Havre. She hated involving Tanner Chisholm in the mess she’d made of her life any more than she already had. But she needed to sell the rings. Hopefully she could get enough to buy an old car and enough gas to put a whole lot more distance between herself and Duane before she found a job.

“You’re going to have to deal with him, you know,” Tanner said as if realizing she hadn’t been listening about the old mission they’d just passed.

Billie Rae nodded. “I’m sorry. I just can’t help thinking about him.”

“How long have you been married?”

“Six months. We met in Oklahoma, where I was teaching kindergarten. Right after we eloped, Duane sprung it on me that he’d gotten a job in Williston, North Dakota, and we had to move at once. I didn’t even get to finish the school year.”

“You had friends in Oklahoma?”

She nodded. “I lost track of them once we got to North Dakota. Duane made sure of that. It’s hard to accept that I’m the classic case. The abused wife. But Duane wasn’t like this when we were dating. He was …” She let her voice trail off. “That’s not true. The signs were there. He was controlling but I wanted to believe it was because he cared and just wanted what was best for me, like he said.” She laughed at that. “I was such a fool.”

“We’ve all been fools,” Tanner said. “Myself included. But you realized your mistake and got away from him.”

If only it were that simple.

“You don’t know my husb … Duane,” she said. She couldn’t bear to call him her husband anymore. She hadn’t only left him, hadn’t merely taken off her wedding rings. In her heart she was no longer Duane Rasmussen’s wife, and last night with Tanner she’d felt like a free woman, even though she’d only been kidding herself.

Under the law, she was still Duane Rasmussen’s wife. Only technically, she thought, because there was no love in her heart for him. When had she stopped loving him? She didn’t know. Just as she didn’t know when she’d begun to hate him.

“He’s … dangerous,” she said, thinking that was putting it mildly.

Tanner let out a dismissive sound. “Only to a woman who can’t fight back.”

She shook her head. “He carries a gun, he kills people.” And when he caught her, she wouldn’t be the first person he killed in a rage. “Duane’s a cop.”