Читать книгу Cowboy At Arms - Carla Cassidy - Страница 8

Chapter 3

Sundays at the Holiday ranch were fairly laid-back. The chores were divided so that half of the men worked one Sunday and the others were off, and the next weekend the men who’d been off worked. The system assured that every other week the men got a full day off without having to do any of the daily chores required to keep the ranch running smoothly.

Thankfully, it was Dusty’s turn to have the entire day off. He slept later than usual but was still up not long after dawn. His first thought when he awakened was of Trisha and the time he’d shared with her the night before.

Bright and fun, she’d been everything he’d dreamed about and more. She’d been so easy to talk to and with each minute that had passed he’d only grown more attracted to her.

As he showered his thoughts continued to be consumed by his date with her. He’d loved the way she’d felt in his arms as they’d danced, and kissing her had been nothing short of amazing.

But the night had definitely turned a little strange when she’d seen the note and the flowers that had been left for her at the motel door. Her initial reaction had seemed a little bit over-the-top with her saying that she needed to leave town and the crazy fear radiating from her wide blue eyes.

He wondered what might have happened to her in her past to cause her to react that way. He also wondered who in the hell had left the unexpected gifts for her. Someplace out there was a man trying to make time with her, too. Still, he knew that all he could do was focus on his own relationship with Trisha and see where things went from here.

He left his room and headed to the dining room, where breakfast would be in progress. As always, Cord Cully, aka Cookie, stood next to a long table where warming buffet servers held scrambled eggs, crispy strips of bacon and hot biscuits with sausage gravy. There was also fresh fruit and hearty oatmeal. Breakfast and dinner were the two big meals of the day, with lunch being lighter.

“Just the man I wanted to talk to,” Dusty said to Cookie after he’d filled his plate and before he took a seat at one of the long picnic tables with the other men.

Cookie grunted, his dark eyes glowering as he looked at Dusty. Dusty wasn’t put off by Cookie’s countenance. The man looked as if he wanted to punch something most of the time. “Talk to me about what?”

“A picnic lunch.” Dusty quickly told the man what he wanted for later that afternoon. When he was finished, Tony Nakni motioned for Dusty to sit beside him.

Tony was half Choctaw Indian and something of a mystery, although he and Dusty had always shared a good relationship. “How did it go last night?” he asked once Dusty had gotten settled.

“Really good,” Dusty replied. “In fact, we’re having a picnic down by the pond this afternoon and I’m going to teach her three-year-old son, Cooper, how to fish.”

Tony raised a dark brow. “You must have made a good impression on her if she’s letting you meet her son already.”

“I hope I made a good impression, because it appears that I have a little competition.” He told Tony about the note and the flowers.

Tony shook his head. “I’ve never understood that kind of approach. I mean, if you want a woman, then don’t play silly games, just go after her.”

Dusty looked at his friend in open amusement. “And exactly when are you going to decide to go after a woman?”

“When and if I ever find somebody worth pursuing,” Tony replied.

The dining room suddenly fell silent. Dusty looked up to see that Cassie Peterson stood in the doorway. She was clad in a pair of designer jeans and a bright pink blouse and her blond hair looked as if it had been styled by a professional hairdresser only minutes before. She was definitely a little bit of big city in the room.

It was rarely a good thing when she appeared in the cowboy dining area, especially first thing in the morning.

“I’m sorry to bother you all while you’re eating breakfast,” she said. “But I wanted to let you know that Chief Bowie is planning to interview you all again and I want you to make yourselves available to him. You all know how important it is to cooperate with him so that he can get answers as to the mystery of the skeletons that were found on the property.”

“He’s already interviewed us once,” Brody Booth said.

“I’d like to know if he’s looking at the ranch hands on the Humes ranch as carefully as he’s looking at all of us,” Flint McCay added.

Cassie held up her hands. “I’m sure Dillon is conducting interviews with everyone he thinks necessary to get to the bottom of the murders. Again, I would appreciate your cooperation in this matter. Thanks in advance.”

“She probably wants this all cleared up so she can sell the ranch,” Tony said darkly once Cassie had left the building. “I’m sure it would be hard to sell a ranch where seven unsolved murders took place.”

“Raymond Humes would buy this place in a minute,” Dusty said. “I heard that he’s already contacted her about buying her out.”

Tony’s black eyes flashed with annoyance. “If she sells to him, then Cass’s spirit will never rest peacefully. She hated that man.”

Nobody knew what had happened between Raymond Humes and Cass Holiday that had created such bad blood between them. Dusty only knew that thoughts of the tough woman who had taken them all in still caused a piercing ache of loss deep in his heart.

A half an hour later, he left the dining area and went back to his room. He fought the impulse to call Trisha to make sure she really hadn’t packed up her son and all of their belongings and left town sometime during the night. He still couldn’t make sense of her dramatic reaction to the flowers and the note, but he hoped maybe when he saw her they would be able to have a conversation that would shed a little light on it.

In the meantime he had plenty of things to do to keep him busy until it was time for him to pick up her and her son for the afternoon of fun.

The last thing he wanted to do was entertain thoughts about the murders on this land and the fact that Dillon Bowie would interview him once again.

Dusty wasn’t worried about having another conversation with the lawman. He had nothing to hide and he was certain that none of his brothers had anything to do with the horrendous crime that had taken place around the time they had all been brought to the ranch.

At just a little after nine o’clock, Dusty headed into town. He wanted to pick up a few things so that the day with Trisha and her young son would be a complete success.

The first place he stopped was Bob’s Bait Shack just off the main drag. The weathered wooden building held not only an array of hunting and fishing equipment, but also different kinds of bait.

He got what he needed for the afternoon fishing date and then headed to the café for a midmorning cup of coffee. He had a feeling that the hours were going to drag as anticipation and a touch of anxiety pooled inside him when he thought of Trisha.

Surely she would have called him by now if she’d done something crazy like packed up and left town, he thought as he entered the café.

“Hey, Dusty,” Daisy greeted him and pointed him to an empty two-top, where Julia Hatfield took his order and then delivered his coffee.

Even if Trisha hadn’t called him, surely she would have contacted Daisy by now to give her a heads-up if she was no longer going to work at the café. Daisy had said nothing to him about that happening when he’d come in.

He sipped his coffee and watched customers arrive and depart, and instead of thinking about Trisha, he found himself thinking about her son.

He’d never spent much time around kids. He certainly hadn’t ever really considered whether he wanted children or not. He didn’t know how to be a father. He definitely hadn’t had a stellar role model where parents were concerned.

A knot of tension fisted up in his stomach and a phantom pain fired off in his left ear. He’d lied to Trisha when he’d told her he didn’t have any family. As far as he knew his parents were still alive and well in Oklahoma City, but they’d both been dead to Dusty since he’d left home and them far behind.

He hadn’t wanted to share any part of his nightmarish past with Trisha on their very first date.

Only Forest Stevens had known the full extent of what Dusty had gone through in his childhood. The big cowboy had been not only another runaway on the streets but had also become Dusty’s best friend and protector during those dark and frightening days before they’d finally landed at Cass’s ranch for a second chance at life.

Dusty knew in his very gut that he would have died on the streets without Forest watching over him. He mentally made a note to call his friend soon.

He was working on his second cup of coffee when Zeke Osmond walked into the café. The dark-haired, wiry man spied Dusty and immediately headed toward him. Dusty sat up straighter in his chair and wondered what Zeke might want with him. The two of them certainly didn’t share any kind of a friendship.

“I heard through the grapevine that you were out with Trisha last night,” he said as he stopped next to Dusty’s chair. The man smelled of body odor, cigarette smoke and cow manure.

“You heard right,” Dusty replied. “You have a problem with it?”

“I just didn’t know that she was stupid enough to waste any of her time on a snot-nosed, no-account cowboy who had a social worker and a crazy old broad as his parents.” Zeke rocked back on his heels and narrowed his eyes as if anticipating some kind of violent response.

Dusty wouldn’t give him the pleasure despite the swift bite of anger that roared up in his chest. “Are you done here?” He held Zeke’s gaze for a long moment and then looked down at the table and picked up his coffee cup, as if the man warranted not another second of his time or attention.

He sensed when Zeke walked away from the table and he looked up again to see the creep joining another group of men at a booth on the other side of the café.

Why on earth did Zeke Osmond give a damn about him seeing Trisha...unless Zeke wanted her for himself? Was it possible that Zeke was responsible for the mug of flowers and the note that had been left at her doorstep the night before?

Could Zeke be her secret admirer?

The very thought made Dusty slightly sick to his stomach. He didn’t know if he was the man Trisha wanted or needed in her life, but he’d sure as hell do anything in his power to make sure somebody like Zeke didn’t become that man.

* * *

It had been one of the longest nights of Trisha’s life. She’d tossed and turned for hours as she’d wondered what she should do. Just after three in the morning, she finally made the decision to do nothing for now.

Once she’d decided to stay in Bitterroot and not immediately gather her things and leave, she’d fallen into a sleep tormented by nightmares of dead wildflowers and a big, ominous shadow man chasing her through the night.

Cooper had awakened at his usual early time, and as he ate breakfast Trisha drank a cup of coffee and thought about the afternoon to come.

Despite her concern about the “gifts” that had been left for her, she was looking forward to spending more time with Dusty, which had ultimately made her decide to hang around.

Hopefully he’d been right when he’d immediately declared that she apparently had a secret admirer, and hopefully it was somebody from town and not a certain someone from her past.

Before she’d finally gone to sleep, a dozen names of men who could potentially be the mystery man had jumped into her brain. They were men who always chose to sit in her section when she was working at the café, or who had asked her out in the past. She supposed that any one of them could have left her the flowers and the note.

After breakfast as she and Cooper headed outside to the small motel playground, she shoved all thoughts of the troubling situation out of her head. She simply didn’t want to think about it today.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” she said to her son as he took a seat on one of the faded red swings.

“A surprise?” His eyes lit up in anticipation.

“How would you like it if a cowboy picked us up this afternoon and took us fishing on the ranch where he works?”

Cooper’s eyes widened. “A real cowboy and fishing?” He kicked his little legs with excitement. “What’s the cowboy’s name? Is it the Duke?”

Trisha laughed. “No, honey, it isn’t the Duke. His name is Dusty and he’s really nice.”

“And he’s gonna tell me how to catch a fish?” Once again Cooper wiggled in the swing seat with barely contained happiness. “I can’t wait. I want to go now. When will he be here?”

“After your nap this afternoon,” she replied. “Now, hang on tight so that I can give you a push.”

Later that day when Cooper was napping, Trisha took a long shower and considered the fact that she was introducing her son to a man. She didn’t know if it was a good idea or a bad one to introduce the two so quickly. She had no rule book to study to find the correct answer in this situation.

All she did know was that Cooper would love the plans for the day and it would be good for him to have a little male interaction.

Over the past couple of months he’d occasionally asked why he didn’t have a daddy. She’d told her son the same lie that she had told Dusty—that his father had died in a tragic accident. She had no other choice, for the truth was so much worse than the lie. How did you tell a little boy that his daddy was a monster?

Besides, maybe it was a good thing to see how Dusty interacted with Cooper right from the get-go. If Cooper didn’t like Dusty, or she sensed that Dusty didn’t like her son, then that would definitely be the end of things between them.

She dressed in a pair of jean shorts and a sleeveless denim blouse that had pearly white snaps up the front. She couldn’t help the surge of excitement that winged through her as she anticipated spending more time with Dusty.

She wanted to let herself go, to be happy and carefree. Was that really too much to ask of life after all she’d endured in the past?

While Cooper continued his nap, she sat at the table and looked at the house rentals listed in the Bitterroot newspaper.

Today there were a total of five listed. The first two were too big and expensive. One was too far out of town, but the last two had promise. She circled the two ads with a red pen, determined to check them out within the next couple of days.

Although she’d told herself that she would make a move in the next month or two, as she gazed at her son sleeping in the center of the motel room bed they shared, she knew it was way past time that she found them a more permanent home. Cooper deserved so much better than the living conditions they had now.

She awakened Cooper at two. Normally if she woke him up before he got his complete nap, he was a little cranky bug. But today he got up with a huge smile on his face and cowboys and fishing on his mind.

She dressed him in a clean pair of jean shorts and a red T-shirt and then slathered a liberal dose of sunscreen over any exposed skin. She topped his head with a red ball cap that would keep the sun off his tender scalp.

By two forty-five they were ready for Dusty’s arrival. The only last-minute thing they would have to do was move Cooper’s child seat from her car to Dusty’s truck. Thankfully, he had a king cab and the seat could be easily fastened into his backseat.

“I see a red truck,” Cooper exclaimed from his perch at the window. “Is that him, Mommy? Is that Dusty?”

“He has a red pickup truck, so that must be him,” she replied as butterflies took wing in her stomach.

Cooper scrambled out of his chair at the window and raced to the motel room door. “Come on, it’s time to go,” he said exuberantly.

Trisha laughed with an exuberance of her own. She was determined not to think about any negative things for the rest of the day. She was just going to embrace spending time with a handsome cowboy and her beloved son.

* * *

Chief of Police Dillon Bowie had never been so frustrated in his thirty-five years of life as he’d been since the skeletal remains had been unearthed on the Holiday ranch.

August would soon become September and then October, and he couldn’t imagine not having the heinous murders solved before the first snow began to fly.

The problem was that as good as Dr. Patience Forbes had been when she’d removed and studied the bones, as efficient as the Oklahoma City crime lab had been in conducting all kinds of tests, nobody had come up with any real clues that could help in solving the crime that had taken place over a decade ago.

Even Francine Rogers, the social worker who had been responsible for bringing street kids to Cass Holiday for a second chance at life, hadn’t been much help. Her old records were spotty, and at seventy-two years old her memory wasn’t as good as it might have once been.

The one concrete piece of evidence that had come to light was a masculine gold ring with an onyx stone that had been found at the bottom of the burial pit. Dillon didn’t know if it belonged to the killer or to one of the victims. He hadn’t told anyone about the find. He preferred keeping it close to his chest for now.

What he did know was that the skeletons had belonged to boys between approximately fourteen and eighteen years old. One of the skeletons had been missing finger bones and another had been absent the skull.

All of the victims had been killed by a single blow to the back of the head with a sharp instrument. They hadn’t been murdered all at the same time but rather over the course of several months.

Dillon got up from his desk and buckled on his gun belt. One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t find the answers sitting in his office and stewing.

Although he had no real evidence to prove that the person responsible for the murders was still in the town he served, his gut told him otherwise.

Something bad had happened on the Holiday ranch years ago around the time when the cowboys who now worked and lived there had first arrived to begin their new lives.

Despite his attraction to new owner Cassie Peterson, his number-one job was to make sure that she wasn’t unknowingly harboring a man capable of such evil.