Читать книгу Mason - Delores Fossen - Страница 9

Abbie knew her situation had just gone from bad to worse. She also knew that Mason wasn’t just going to let her run out of there again. Not that she could.

Not now.

Not after the gunman’s attack.

She’d opened this dangerous Pandora’s box and had to stay around long enough to close it. If she could. But closing it meant first answering the Texas-sized question that Mason had just asked.

Who the hell are you?

“I’m Abbie Baker,” she said, knowing that didn’t clarify anything, especially because it was a name given to her twenty-one years ago by the U.S. Marshals when she and her mom had entered witness protection.

Her real name was Madelyn Turner. Maddie. But she no longer thought of herself as that little girl who’d nearly died from a hired gun’s bullet.

She was Abbie Baker now.

And she had a thoroughly riled, confused cowboy lawman looming over her. He was waiting for answers that didn’t involve her real name or anything else so mundane. Mason’s attention and narrowed glare were on the concho.

“Where did you get it?” he asked.

Abbie considered another lie. She’d gotten so good at them over the years, but no one was that good. There was no way she could convince Mason that she’d found the concho and then had coincidentally applied for a job at the Ryland ranch.

There was nothing chance about it, and now she might have endangered not just Mason but also his entire family. Someone had come after her tonight, and she had to get to the bottom of that—fast.

First, though, she had to get past Mason, literally. And that meant giving him enough information to satisfy him but not so much that he would have a major meltdown.

“Where did you get the concho?” he repeated.

Abbie tried not to look as frightened as she felt, but she figured she wasn’t very successful. “Your father gave it to me.”

She saw the surprise go through his eyes. Maybe Mason had thought she’d stolen it or something.

“My father?” he snapped.

Abbie settled for a nod, knowing she would have to add details. But the devil was in those details, and once Mason heard them, he might physically toss her off the ranch. That couldn’t happen at this exact moment.

“When?” he pressed. “Why?”

She had no choice but to clear her throat so she could answer. “When I turned sixteen. He said it was a good-luck charm.”

That was a lie. Actually, Boone had said he wanted her to have it because it was his most valuable possession. Something he’d reserved for his own children.

Nothing about his severe expression changed. Mason’s wintry eyes stayed narrowed to slits. His jaw muscles stirred. He continued to glare at her. For several snail-crawling seconds anyway. Then he cursed. One really bad word. Before he turned and scrubbed his hands over his face. It seemed to take him another couple of moments to get his jaw unclenched.

“So Boone is alive,” he mumbled. “Or at least he was when you were sixteen.”

“He still is alive,” Abbie confirmed. “I talked to him on the phone before I went to bed.” She chose her words carefully. “He met my mother and me about four months before she was killed.”

“Where?” he barked.

“Maverick County. But we’ve lived plenty of other places since then.” She paused because she had to gather her breath. “We move a lot, finding work at ranches all over the Southwest. He’s always worried that Vernon Ferguson will find me.” And finish what he’d started.

Mason’s eyes narrowed even more. “Boone lived with you?”

“He raised me,” Abbie corrected.

That didn’t improve Mason’s ornery mood. More profanity, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a dry smile that held no humor at all.

“He raised you.” And he repeated it. “He couldn’t raise his own sons or be a husband to his wife, but yet he took you in. Why?”

Abbie had asked herself that a thousand times and still didn’t have the answer. “It was either that or I would have had to go into foster care. There weren’t many options for a kid in witness protection.”

“You would have been better off in foster care,” Mason mumbled. “I figured the SOB was dead.” He held up his hand in a stop gesture when she started to speak. “He should be dead.”

That sent a chill through her. That chill got significantly worse when Mason grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

“He sent you here,” Mason accused. “Why? He wants to mend fences with us after all these years?”

Abbie didn’t get a chance to deny it.

His grip was hard and punishing. “Well, you can just go back to Maverick County and tell the bastard that he’s not welcome here. Neither is his lackey. Consider yourself officially fired.”

“He didn’t send me,” Abbie managed to say.

Mason no doubt heard her, but he didn’t respond except to haul her toward the door. Abbie dug in her heels. Or rather, tried. It was like wrestling with an angry bear. She wasn’t a weakling, and her work with the cutting horses had honed some muscles that most women didn’t have, but she was no physical match for the likes of Mason.

Still, she had to make him understand.

“Boone didn’t send me,” she repeated. “In fact, he wouldn’t be happy if he knew I was here.” And that was a massive understatement.

That stopped Mason, finally, even though they were just inches from the door.

“Boone knows how much you hate him,” she added.

Oh, that put some fire into those ice-gray eyes. “He can’t begin to imagine how much I hate him.” His attention dropped back to the concho. “I put a bullet through mine and then nailed it to my bedroom wall so it’s the first thing I see when I wake up. That way, I can remember that the man who fathered me is a worthless piece of dirt.”

Abbie had expected anger, but she hadn’t quite braced herself enough for this outright rage. Boone had been right. He had done the unforgivable when he’d walked out on his family. At least it was unforgivable in Mason’s eyes, and she wondered if she stood a better chance pleading her case to one of his brothers. The problem was, she might not get the chance to do that.

Mason started moving again, toward the door.

“Why did Boone leave Silver Creek?” she asked.

Again, that stopped him. Well, sort of. Mason didn’t open the door, but he put her back right against it, and he kept his grip hard and tight on her shoulders. She was trapped, and Boone’s warning came flying through her head.

Mason isn’t the forgive-or-forget sort.

It was one of the few times Boone had talked about his sons, about the life he’d left behind here in Silver Creek. Boone wouldn’t have wanted her to come here, but she’d had no choice. This was her best bet at finding the answers to why Boone had been so secretive lately. He was definitely keeping something from her, and Abbie was scared that the something meant he was in serious danger.

“You tell me why he ran off,” Mason challenged.

She shook her head. Actually, her whole body was shaking, maybe from the adrenaline. Maybe the cold.

Maybe Mason.

She glanced down between them, at the fact that their bodies were pressed against each other. Not good. After all, despite the anger and Boone’s warning about this particular Ryland, Mason was a man, and she was a woman.

Mason must have realized it, too, because while still scowling and cursing, he stepped back. “Why did Boone leave?” he repeated.

Abbie had to shake her head again. “I don’t know.” It was the truth, but she wished she had the answer because it would no doubt clear up a lot of other questions she had. “He wouldn’t say. But for what it’s worth, he was a good surrogate father to me.”

Mason made a skeptical sound and threw open the door. However, he didn’t toss her out. That’s because his oldest brother, Grayson, was standing in the way. He had an armful of clothes, a concerned look on his face and the same cop’s eyes as Mason. And he eyed the grip that Mason had on her.

“A problem?” Grayson asked, suspicion dripping from his voice. He waited until Mason let go of her before he handed her the clothes from his wife.

“Yeah, there’s a problem,” Mason verified. “Boone sent her.”

“He didn’t,” Abbie answered as fast as she could, and she was getting darn tired of that broken-record accusation.

Grayson looked first at Mason. Then her. “Is that why you’re here at the ranch, because of Boone?”

“No,” Abbie said at the exact moment that Mason said, “Yes.”

Grayson gave them a raised eyebrow. “Well, which is it?”

Both Rylands stared at her, waiting. “Boone doesn’t know I’m here, and he didn’t send me,” Abbie insisted. “He believes he doesn’t stand a chance of reconciling with any of you.”

“He’s right,” Mason jumped to answer.

Grayson didn’t voice an opinion, but his expression made it clear that Mason and he were of a like mind. And that meant Abbie was wasting her time and putting them in future danger for no reason. Well, except that she might get some answers from Grayson that she hadn’t managed to get from his brother.

Abbie hugged the clothes to her chest and looked Grayson in the eyes. “Boone never talked much about all of you, so I don’t know why he left.”

Mason cursed.

Grayson lifted his shoulder. “Does it matter why?” he asked.

Unlike Mason, he actually waited for her to answer. “Maybe.” That required a deep breath. “Something’s wrong.”

“If he’s dying, then you’d better break the news to someone who gives a flying fig,” Mason grumbled.

Abbie was about to tell him that Boone wasn’t dying, but she had no idea if that was true. And that made her sick to her stomach. Yes, Mason had a right to be this enraged, but she was already getting tired of it. He was aiming that venom not just at her but also at the man who’d raised her. A man she loved like a father.

“Get dressed,” Mason said again. This time it was an order, and he grabbed on to the concho and shoved it back into her gown so that it was out of sight. “I’ll drive you into town so you can leave Silver Creek.”

Grayson had a different reaction. He flexed those previously raised eyebrows. “Someone just tried to kill her,” he reminded Mason. “And that someone likely set fire to the guesthouse with her in it. As the sheriff, I think I’d like to get to the bottom of that first before she leaves.”

“Boone sent her,” Mason argued.

“And we can send her back. After the doc checks her out and she answers a few questions.” Because Mason was clearly gearing up for an argument, Grayson tipped his head to the clothes. “Go ahead and change.”

Abbie considered staying put, considered trying to convince them that she wasn’t there on a mission of peacemaking, but it was obviously an argument she’d lose. On a huff she headed to the bathroom but didn’t shut the door all the way. She needed to hear what the Ryland brothers were planning to do with her. Too bad she couldn’t quite manage that because both lowered their voices to whispers.

Angry ones.

Mason was still no doubt insisting that she leave immediately. Grayson had the more level head, and she remembered Boone calling him an old soul.

Abbie hurriedly changed into loose pants and oversized denim shirt. No underwear, but the flat slipper-type shoes fit. She was ready to face down the enemy, or rather her former employer, until she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Mercy. There was soot on her face. Her hair was a tangled mess, and there were dark circles under her eyes. And then she wondered why she cared.

Oh, yes. She remembered.

Mason, and that body-to-body contact. Abbie cursed him. Cursed herself. She didn’t let men get under her skin, and she wasn’t about to start now.

Steeled with that reminder, Abbie walked back into the main room, only to have both Ryland men stop their whispered conversation and stare at her.

“So, what’s the verdict?” she came right out and asked. Of course, Mason scowled at her and mumbled something she probably didn’t want to hear anyway.

“Our other brothers Dade and Nate are out looking for the man who took shots at you,” Grayson informed her. He was all cop now. “Any idea who he was?”

She shook her head. “It was too dark to see his face.”

Mason swung his attention in her direction. “What about the man who set the fire? Too dark to see him, too?”

Abbie ignored the skeptical, snarky tone. “I didn’t see him,” she verified. “In fact, I didn’t see anyone. I only sensed someone was there.”

“Your senses are good,” Grayson volunteered. “Because I looked at the door that Mason pulled off you. It’d been torn from its hinges. If you didn’t do that—”

“I didn’t.”

Grayson lifted his shoulder. “Then someone else did. I’m guessing it was the same man who fired those shots.”

She guessed the same. Abbie also guessed that his brothers would give it their best efforts in searching for the man. But she also knew there were miles and miles of wooded area surrounding the Ryland ranch. The odds weren’t good. And that put a hard knot back in her stomach.

“He’ll be back,” she said before she could stop herself. Abbie instantly regretted the admission, but it didn’t surprise Grayson. Perhaps not Mason either. It was hard to tell because his face seemed to be frozen in that permanent glare.

“Boone didn’t send me,” she reiterated. “And I’m sorry that you’re riled because someone tried to kill me on your ranch.”

“I’m not riled because of that.” That got rid of the glare. Judging from his annoyed huff, Mason hadn’t intended to ditch the glare, raise his voice. Or show even a smidgen of what had to be a bad temper to go along with that gruff exterior.

But Abbie hadn’t intended to go the snark route either. “Look, I’m frustrated. Scared. And feeling a dozen other things that you clearly don’t want me to feel. I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizing,” Mason snapped. He stared at her. And stared. Then cursed again. “Quit apologizing,” he repeated.

Like the little arm rub he’d given her earlier, before he’d seen the concho, it sounded, well, human.

Grayson gave them both a stern glance, especially his brother. “Are you two sleeping together or something?”

“No!” Mason and she said in unison. Mason shot his brother a look that could have frozen Hades.

Grayson did some more staring and then made a sound of disbelief. “Then maybe we can concentrate on finding the man who tried to kill you.” He waited until he had their attention before he continued. “I’ve already made a call to Marshal Harlan McKinney to let him know what’s going on, and I’ve put out feelers to find out if Vernon Ferguson’s connected to this.”

She gave a weary sigh and pushed her hair from her face. “You won’t find a connection,” Abbie assured him. “Ferguson’s too smart for that.” And that reminder caused her to go still. “Ferguson found me awfully fast. I’ve been here at the ranch only three days.”

“Maybe Boone told him,” Mason instantly suggested.

Abbie didn’t even have to consider it. “Boone doesn’t know I’m here. That’s the truth. I told him I was visiting a friend in Austin.”

Mason gave her a flat stare. “So you’re telling us the truth, but you lied to him?”

“Yes.” She ignored his sarcasm and turned toward Mason. “Did you do some kind of background check on me?”

Mason probably would have preferred to continue the sniping match, but she saw the moment that he turned from an angry son to a concerned rancher and lawman. “Of course. I use a P.I. agency in San Antonio to screen potential employees.” He paused. “I don’t have the report back on you yet.”

Later, she would curse herself for not realizing that Mason would run such a check. She didn’t have an arrest record. In fact, not many records at all, and that would have perhaps flagged a P.I.’s interest.

It had probably flagged Marshal McKinney, too, but Abbie had called him right before she applied for the job at the ranch to tell him she might be working there for a short period of time. She’d also asked the marshal not to tell Boone, and McKinney must have complied because Boone hadn’t tried to stop her. And he would have if he’d known she was anywhere near Silver Creek.

Abbie shook her head and stared at Mason. “So why did you hire me before you got the report?”

“Because he needed a cutter,” Grayson jumped to answer. “He goes through five or six cutting-horse trainers a year.”

The muscles in Mason’s jaw tightened. “Because most aren’t worth spit.” Another pause, and he tipped his head toward her. “She seemed to know what she was doing.”

“Thanks. Your father trained me,” she added, knowing it would cause his glare to return. It did. Not just from Mason, but his brother, too.

She huffed but regretted that little jab. It was clear she wasn’t going to win them over to her side, so it was best to tell them the truth and hope they’d be willing to do something to help her.

Abbie took a deep breath before she started. “Something happened about a month ago. I’m not sure what,” she added because it looked as if both Rylands were about to interrupt her. “I know it started when Boone heard the news reports about the senator who committed suicide here in Silver Creek.”

“Ford Herrington,” Grayson supplied.

Abbie waited for them to add more. They didn’t. But she’d done her own reading about the senator. He’d confessed to murdering his wife and the Ryland sons’ grandfather Chet McLaurin, before taking his own life.

“What connection did Boone have to Senator Herrington?” Abbie asked.

“You mean other than Herrington murdering Boone’s father-in-law?” Mason asked. He was back to being a cowboy cop again.

She nodded. “Is there something more?”

Mason shook his head, huffed. “According to Ford, our grandfather was having an affair with Ford’s wife.”

“Was he?” she pressed, though she still couldn’t see the connection with Boone.

“Maybe.” And when Mason paused, Grayson took up the explanation. “His wife was having an affair with someone. Ford’s daughter, Lynette, confirmed that. She overheard her mother talking about it before she was killed, and Lynette has no reason to lie, because she’s our sister-in-law.”

So maybe that was the connection she’d been searching for. But why would a decades-old affair between a senator’s wife and Boone’s father-in-law have such an impact now? Especially because everyone seemed to know about it.

“Is it possible that the senator’s wife got pregnant and had your grandfather’s baby?” Yes, she was grasping at straws, but she had to find what had set all of this in motion.

Mason lifted his shoulder. “I suppose she could have gotten pregnant, but she didn’t give birth. No time for that. From the time line we’ve been able to come up with, Ford killed her only about a month after the affair started.”

Well, there went her secret-baby theory.

“Boone got upset when he saw the news reports about the senator’s suicide,” she added. “And he followed the story like a hawk. I’d never seen him like that, and since then he’s been secretive. Agitated. He even hired a P.I., and he won’t tell me why.”

The brothers exchanged concerned glances. “What’s your theory?”

Abbie had to take a deep breath. “I suspect something bad happened to Boone all those years ago. Something bad enough to cause him to walk out on his family.”

“And what would that be?” Mason’s tone wasn’t quite as lawmanlike as it had been for his other questions. The emotion and old pain were seeping through.

“I’m not sure,” Abbie admitted. “But a week ago I heard him talking to someone on the phone. I don’t know who, but it could have been the P.I. I only caught pieces of the conversation, but Boone mentioned the ranch. And all of you.”

“Us?” Mason challenged.

She nodded. “I think he was worried about your safety.” Mercy, she wished she’d heard more of that call. “He also said something else.”

“What?” Mason pressed when she paused.

Abbie tried to repeat this part verbatim. “Boone said the past was catching up with him and that it wouldn’t be long before someone came to kill him.”