Читать книгу Cowboy Under Fire - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8
ОглавлениеIt was just after noon the next day when Devon drew Patience’s attention to the tent door. He stepped outside and she followed him, a slight breeze providing welcome relief from the stifling heat inside the tent.
Devon pointed to where a horse trailer had pulled up to a nearby small corral. “I heard from Adam Benson that a new horse was being delivered today. It’s a wild horse that hasn’t seen much human contact.”
“I didn’t know that you and the ranch foreman were so friendly,” she replied.
“He’s a nice man. I’ve had dinner with him a couple of times at the café in town.”
Patience turned her attention back to the corral. Unlike her, Devon often made nice with the locals when they were working a case.
She recognized Forest as one of the men who got out of the truck that had backed up the trailer to the corral gate. He moved from the front of the truck to the back of the trailer with an unusual grace for a big man and opened the door.
A huge black horse exploded out backward and then bucked and kicked across the corral’s arena to the opposite side of the enclosure.
The truck pulled away and Forest closed the corral gate and then rested a foot on the lower rung of the wooden fence and watched the horse.
“The men say he’s a horse whisperer,” Devon said.
“What does that mean?” she asked, wondering why she cared a bit about what others might say about Forest Stevens.
“It means he has a special touch, that he can communicate with wild horses and work with them to learn to trust human beings. From what I understand, it’s a true gift.”
“Interesting,” she replied and stepped back into the entrance of the tent to get back to work. What was definitely interesting and irritating had been Forest invading her dreams the night before.
Patience almost never dreamed, but when she did, it was either about the case she was working on or a story she’d read in one of her tabloids before going to sleep. She definitely didn’t dream about big, hot cowboys with brilliant blue eyes and warm smiles...until last night.
She’d dreamed they’d been at a barn dance, which in and of itself had been odd since she’d never been to such an event in her entire life. Still, they’d been in a barn and there had been music and laughter and he’d held her tight in his big, strong arms as they danced across a hay-strewn floor.
He’d been warm and so intimately close and had smelled of sunshine and wind and fragrant cologne. She’d wanted the dance to never end and then she’d awakened, appalled by what her brain had conjured up for a night fantasy.
She stepped back to the tent doorway and snapped her attention back to the scene before her, where Forest had stepped just inside the corral gate. He looked confident, yet at ease as the horse pawed the ground and eyed him in suspicion.
“Well, I’d love to stand around and watch Forest whisper, but we have work to do. Besides, I’m expecting Chief Bowie to show up sometime soon. I spoke to him this morning and told him we have enough information to indicate that the first victim we’ve put together from the top of the pit was definitely murdered.” Of course the first skeleton they’d pulled from the pit was the last victim of the killer.
Devon nodded and together they returned to the tent and the tedious work at hand. It wasn’t long after they’d taken a break for lunch when Chief of Police Dillon Bowie arrived at the entrance of the tent.
Bowie was an attractive man, but he wore the burden of this crime scene in the weary lines of his face and the grim press of his lips.
He paused at the entrance, as if waiting for permission to enter. “You said you have some information for me?”
She motioned him into the tent and to the steel table where a complete human skeleton rested. “We assumed that the people in the pit were probably murder victims. This would have been the last victim of whatever happened here, as we’re working from the top of the pit down.”
Chief Bowie nodded and stared at the table. “So, what can you tell me about it?”
“Not it, him—the skeleton is that of a young male.”
“How young?”
“Between the ages of sixteen and eighteen or so. Thankfully, the teeth are intact in the skull, which helped me with the age issue. I took X-rays and dental impressions so that you could use them to check with dentists, but unfortunately it doesn’t look like he’d had any dental work done.”
Patience paused to take a breath and then picked up the skull, ignoring the faint distaste that crossed Bowie’s features. “This young man was definitely murdered.” She turned the skull over to display a long straight crack in the center. “I would guess either a very sharp axe or a meat cleaver, or something like that was used to kill him. I’m leaning toward the meat cleaver due to the narrowness of the injury. It was clean and deep and probably killed him instantly.”
She set the skull back on the table. She pointed to another steel table. “As you can see, we’re about halfway through putting together the bones to this victim...also male and with the same kind of wound to the back of the skull—and that’s all I can give you so far.”
Dillon gestured her outside of the hot tent. “Have you been able to discern how long the bones have been there?”
“As you know when we first arrived on scene, we analyzed soil samples and any insect life present, and of course, the condition of the bones, and my guess would be twelve to sixteen years,” she replied. “I’m sorry I can’t narrow the time line any better.”
His frown deepened. “That means everyone on this ranch and the neighboring ranches are potential suspects.”
“I thought you’d already reached that conclusion.”
He released a sigh. “I had, but I didn’t want to believe it.”
“To make your job more complicated, I don’t think these people were all killed at the exact same time. The soil samples indicate the first body was buried twelve to fifteen years ago, but the way the bodies were stacked up, I would guess that they were probably killed over the course of a year or so. It wasn’t a mass killing that took place all at one time, but rather a serial kind of event. I’ll have better clarity about that when we finally get to the bottom of the stack of bones.”
He took off his hat and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. He swiped his forehead and then placed his hat back on his head and tucked the handkerchief away. “This is the first time you’ve spoken to me without yelling.”
A warmth of a blush swept over her cheeks. “My number-one priority is to keep the integrity of the crime scene. I allowed your photographer access to get what photos you needed for your case file, but I’m very proprietary about the scene, especially in the very beginning when something could happen to taint the scene.”
“I hadn’t noticed,” he replied dryly.
She couldn’t apologize for doing her job. “If you come back tomorrow, I’ll see to it that you have a full report along with the dental records. I’m also bagging any scraps of fabric or hair we find among the bones, although so far there isn’t much of either left, and I won’t be able to tell you what of those items went with what victim.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be long before you get to the other bodies?”
“It takes as long as it takes,” she replied. She knew he’d been frustrated by how long it had taken her to begin to move the bones from the pit, but there had been much preliminary work that had to be done before actually moving the bones.
There was no way she could pin down a specific time line for him now. She wasn’t in control, the bones were. “This is a process that can’t be rushed.”
He nodded. “Cassie mentioned to me that several times she’s invited you to the big house to eat dinner, but you’ve declined.”
“I have,” she agreed. “I’m here to work, and generally I don’t mix business with pleasure. I prefer to keep myself isolated from the locals. When I’m done with my work, I leave and never look back.”
“I just figured I’d mention that Cassie is a terrific woman, just in case you feel inclined to have some girl talk or whatever.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Patience replied, although she had no idea what “girl talk” involved and had no intention of indulging in it. She knew nothing about fashion or shoes or men...or any of the kinds of things she assumed “girl talk” would entail.
“I’ll be back sometime in the morning for your report?”
“That’s fine,” she replied. “I’ll make sure I have everything ready on victim one.”
She watched as the lawman walked back toward the house, and then her gaze automatically shot to the corral where the big black horse was alone in the enclosure.
She frowned irritably. She’d looked to see if she could catch sight of Forest. What was wrong with her? Why would she even want to look for him? He was just part of the scenery here, nothing more. She returned to the tent and got back to work.
For the next week she focused on the job she was here to do, but found herself at odd times of the day standing in the tent entrance and gazing toward the corral.
Sometimes the horse was there alone and other times Forest was in the corral with the horse. He often stood in one place for a long period of time and then would move, forcing the horse to back away to keep a healthy distance from the human intruder.
Forest appeared to be a patient man, a trait he and Patience shared in common. He didn’t attempt to force himself on the huge animal, but appeared to be waiting for the horse to come to him.
By Friday they had managed to piece together all of skeleton two, confirming that it was a young male with the same kind of wound to the back of his skull. She’d written her report, taken the necessary dental X-rays and once again had nothing concrete that would help Dillon Bowie make identification either of the victim or the person responsible for the deaths.
She assumed he was checking missing-persons reports from years ago, but at the time these young men had been murdered, instant technology hadn’t been available. He had a difficult task ahead of him, and it was possible the killer was long gone from the area. Of course it was also possible he could be working on this ranch. From what she’d heard, all of the twelve cowboys had been young ranch hands at the time the murders would have taken place.
It was after seven when she and Devon finally knocked off for the day. The officer who showed up each night at around this time to guard the burial scene through the night had already arrived. Even after almost a month, Patience didn’t know his name.
He arrived each evening carrying a canvas folding chair that he set up at one end of the tent and settled in for a night of guard duty.
She began the long walk to the cowboy motel. It would be unusually quiet tonight, as Devon had told her most of the cowboys would be headed for the big barn dance being held at Abe Breckinridge’s ranch.
She couldn’t help but think of Forest’s invitation for her to join him at the dance, but her plans were to do what she did every night: eat a protein bar and a prepared salad that Devon had picked up for her at noon when he’d gone into town for a quick lunch. She would then settle in for a night of relaxing and reading Hollywood gossip.
Although her stomach growled with hunger, when she reached her room she opted for a shower first and then changed into her nightshirt. She grabbed both the salad and a soda from the mini-fridge and then got comfortable on the bed to eat.
The silence in the small room didn’t bother her; rather, she relished it. Her childhood had been a schizophrenic dichotomy between unexpected outbursts of drama and cold, unemotional lectures.
Since the moment she’d left her parents’ home, she’d reveled in the silence of peace. She didn’t want anyone else’s dramas except her own, and those usually occurred when she allowed her anger free rein.
It was just after nine when the silence was broken. A rousing country Western song drifted through her door along with the distinctive scent of charcoal burning.
What the heck?
She got up off the bed, unlocked her door and peered outside.
Surprise winged through her. Forest was seated in one of two folding chairs just outside his room. The charcoal in the small barbecue grill in front of him glowed red-hot, and as he spied her, he turned down the volume on the CD player next to him.
He was cleaned up, wearing jeans and a pullover short-sleeved blue shirt. His thick black hair was neatly combed and he looked as if he had just shaved. He was way too hot and sexy.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked.
“I figured if you wouldn’t go to the barn dance with me, then I’d bring the barn dance to you,” he replied and smiled. It was that smile that warmed her in unexpected places as she stared at him in disbelief.
“What do you say? I’ve got the hot dogs ready for the grill, a couple of beers on ice and the appropriate music. All I’m missing is company.”
She should tell him no. This went against all the rules she’d set for herself when she was working. Heck, it went against all the rules she’d set for herself when she wasn’t working.
“Just let me pull on something more appropriate and I’ll be right out,” she heard herself say.
She closed her door and quickly pulled off her nightgown, even while telling herself this was probably a big mistake.
* * *
Forest was shocked at her positive response. He’d expected her to say no and then slam her door shut once again. A wave of suspicion swept through him as she disappeared behind her door. Was she really going to get dressed and join him? Or had she vanished back into the room to remain there until he got tired of waiting for her and gave up on the night?
The thin, short-sleeved bright purple nightgown he’d gotten a peek of was incongruent to what he’d imagined she’d wear to bed. He’d spent far too long during the last week wondering about her nightwear.
He’d figured her for a no-nonsense pajama kind of woman, or if it was a nightgown, then it would be long and some muted color like gray or dark blue. He certainly hadn’t guessed a short gown that showcased shapely legs and certainly not a brilliant purple that clashed charmingly with her red hair.
Minutes ticked by. This had probably been a harebrained idea to begin with, he told himself. Still, he’d seen her watching him as he’d started to work with the new horse. Why would she step out of her tent and away from her work so many times during each day to watch him if she didn’t have some kind of intrigue about him?
He released a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as her door finally reopened and she stepped out into the waning darkness in a pair of black capris and a blue and black sleeveless cotton blouse.
She sank into the chair next to his and shifted positions several times, obviously a bit uncomfortable with the entire situation.
“Cold beer?” he asked.
“Okay,” she agreed almost eagerly.
He reached into the nearby cooler and pulled out two beer bottles. He opened hers and handed it to her. “Now, the real question: I’ve got the grill hot and ready, so how about a hot dog?”
She finally leaned back in the chair. “Is that what they do at barn dances? Drink beer and eat hot dogs?”
“There’s definitely a lot of beer and whiskey drinking that goes on, but the menu usually includes smoked ribs and baked beans, tubs of potato salad and all kinds of pies. I couldn’t quite accomplish all that so you’re stuck with cold beer and hot dogs.”
“Then I’ll have a hot dog,” she replied, again surprising him. His surprise must have shown. “It’s only right that I have one since you’ve gone to so much trouble.” She cocked her head to one side and gazed at him. “Why have you gone to all this trouble?”
“I just thought it might do you some good to get out of that room and eat something besides cheese puffs and those dry bars of oats or whatever.” He pulled a couple of hot dogs from the cooler and used a fork to set them on the grill.
“How did you know I eat cheese puffs and protein bars?”
“I’ve seen your trash. It’s not healthy for a woman to eat those things on a daily basis without something more substantial.” The hot dogs sizzled and filled the air with their scent.
“Actually I had a salad tonight for dinner. Devon picked it up at the café for me at noon.” She took a sip of her beer.
“That’s good to know.” He pulled buns and two squeeze bottles, one of ketchup and of mustard, out of the cooler, along with a couple of paper plates.
Despite the smells of charcoal and cooking meat, he could smell her, a clean scent of minty soap and a faint hint of something floral. His stomach tightened, and he didn’t know if it was because he liked the way she smelled or because he’d skipped supper in anticipation of potentially being here with her now.
“What else happens at these barn dances?” she asked curiously.
He turned the hot dogs over before replying. “Music and dancing. There’s usually at least one drunken brawl, but rarely any hard feelings afterward.” He frowned and thought about the ranch hands who worked the Humes place next to the Holiday Ranch. There didn’t have to be booze involved for there to be hard feelings between the cowboys of the two ranches. There was also no reason to bring up that particular unpleasant topic tonight.
“I still don’t understand why you did all this. I know what everyone calls me behind my back. I definitely have shown myself to be antisocial and at times downright nasty,” she said.
Forest gestured in the direction of the small corral in the distance. “That horse is antisocial, too. But with a lot of patience and a dose of tenderness, he’ll wind up being a fine companion.” He winced at his own words. “Not that I’m comparing you to a horse.”
He busied himself getting the grilled hot dogs to the buns and on the paper plates. She wanted mustard, no ketchup, and he wanted ketchup and no mustard.
“Why didn’t you go to the dance with the rest of your friends?” she asked once they each had a plate and he’d tossed two more hot dogs on the grill.
“I was hoping I’d be here with you,” he replied easily.
She looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “Why would you want to be here with me?”
He studied her in the light of the full moon that had appeared overhead. Why, indeed? “Beats me,” he finally replied honestly. “Why did you agree to come out and sit with me?”
“Beats me,” she echoed him.
“To be honest, you’ve intrigued me since you first arrived here.”
“Are you some kind of a masochist? Are you usually drawn to mean women with viper tongues?”
Forest laughed. “None of the above. I’d just like to get to know you a little better, maybe see what’s beneath the mean-woman attitude.”
“And what if you discover there’s only more mean woman underneath?”
He grinned at her. “Then I’ll just say it was nice knowing you and won’t plan any more barn dances with you.” He pulled the other two hot dogs from the grill and was surprised when she agreed to eat another one.
They both fell silent as they ate, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. She probably thought he was a nut. She was right. He’d been a little nutty since the first time he’d seen her.
Even before ever talking to her, she’d been in his head as he’d watched her interact, or more accurately, not interact with others. He’d watched the sun spark on her hair whenever she stepped outside of the tent and had wondered if it was as soft to the touch as it looked. He’d wondered what her laughter might sound like, what kind of a person she was when she wasn’t working. He’d spent a lot of time wondering all kinds of things about her.
When they’d finished with the hot dogs, he moved the small grill some distance away. The night air was warm enough without the closeness of the heated charcoal. Once he returned to his chair, he turned up the radio, not so loud that they couldn’t talk, but so that they could hear the foot-stomping country music.
“I won’t ask you about your findings so far, but tell me a little bit about the work you do as a forensic anthropologist.”
“Surely you aren’t really interested in that,” she protested.
“But I am,” he replied. “I only went to school through tenth grade. I’m always interested in learning new things.”
The fact that he had so little formal schooling wasn’t usually something he talked about, but tragic circumstances and fear had forever changed the path his life was supposed to have taken.
He was interested, but more than that he liked the sound of her voice. When she wasn’t screaming or yelling at somebody to get out of her tent, she had a pleasant, almost musical voice that was quite appealing.
He pulled another beer out for each of them and settled back in the chair as she began to talk about soil analysis and the measurement of bone length and density.
Her face came alive when she talked about her work. Her eyes sparkled brightly and her features took on an animation that only made her more attractive than he already found her.
The moonlight lit her hair to a fiery red and bathed her face in an illumination that softened all of her features. By the time she’d finished talking, he wanted more than anything to draw her into his arms and dance with her.
“Facts, that’s what I deal in. Scientific facts that never lie,” she finished.
“Facts are important, but a little flight of fancy isn’t too bad, either,” he replied.
She grew silent, and he had a feeling she didn’t do flights of fancy often. Instead of discussing the issue, he began to point out the many star constellations that were visible in the night sky and explained how cowboys used the stars to navigate in the dark.
“So, if you ever find a grave of old bones, I’m your girl and if I ever find myself alone in the dark in a pasture, I’d want you by my side,” she said.
“I guess that about sums it up,” he agreed.
The music had changed to a soft slow rhythm, and on an inward dare to himself, he stood and held out his hand to her. “A barn dance really isn’t complete unless you actually dance.”
“Oh, I don’t know how to dance,” she replied and shrank back against the chair.
“It’s easy, just follow my lead.”
“I’m not used to following anyone’s lead,” she said with a tiny edge to her voice.
“Jeez, Patience, it’s just a simple dance, not a lifetime commitment,” he replied.
She hesitated a moment and then set her beer bottle down on the ground. She stood, her body straight and rigid, as if she were being forced to walk a plank to her death.
He took her in his arms, keeping a healthy couple of inches between their bodies. Her hands automatically landed on his upper arms, reminding him of how tiny she was and that reaching up to his shoulders would be a real stretch for her.
“Just relax,” he murmured.
She looked up at him. “Easy for you to say.”
He laughed and moved his feet in an easy two-step and was pleased to discover that she was a quick study. Within moments she did begin to relax.
The floral scent was more prevalent as he fought the desire to pull her even closer. He knew that if he did, she’d make a hasty retreat back into her room and he wasn’t ready for the time with her to end.
It didn’t matter what he wanted. The minute the song stopped, she stepped away from him and her body displayed the posture of a deer about to bolt. “I’ve got to get to bed,” she said as she backed up to her door. “This has been pleasant, but it’s not something we’re going to repeat. I’m here to work and that’s all I really care about.”
Before Forest could say anything, she disappeared into her room and shut the door after her. Disappointed, he returned to his chair and sank back down, replaying each and every moment of their time together.
He’d half hoped that he’d find her to be as disagreeable as everyone else had deemed her. He’d almost wanted to believe her to be the dragon lady to stanch the inexplicable draw he had to her.
But that hadn’t happened. Instead he was more interested in her than he’d been before. His attraction to her was visceral. Perhaps it was just a matter of him suffering a burst of too much testosterone. Maybe he needed to go lift a tree trunk or carry a cow over his shoulders for a couple of miles, he thought wryly.
He unscrewed a fresh beer and looked up at the cloudless starlit sky. No amount of physical activity would relieve the touch of lust that coupled with his desire to get beneath what he suspected was a shell she presented to the world to keep people away.
Forest knew why most of the cowboys working the ranch had trust issues and he had a feeling Dr. Patience Forbes might suffer some trust issues of her own.
Time would tell if she’d be here long enough, if he could get close enough to discover what had made her into the woman she’d become.
All he knew was that as they’d danced and she’d relaxed into him just a bit, she’d touched him in a way nobody but Cass Holiday had when she’d taken him in as a sixteen-year-old runaway who had lost everything. Something about Patience stroked his heart.
Cass was gone now, but Patience was here, and tonight had just whetted his appetite to get closer to her. Although she wasn’t a horse, he wondered if he had the magic it might take to allow her to trust him enough to let him get closer to her.
