Читать книгу Cowboy Sanctuary - Elle James - Страница 8

Until he’d seen her, he had no idea how hard his mission would be. Covered in dust, her chambray shirt marred with stains from working out on the ranch, she couldn’t have been more beautiful. So earthy, familiar and Jennie. The years had honed her body to tight athletic lines, her jeans rode loose on slim hips and her breasts were a bit fuller, fitting tightly against the worn cotton of her shirt. Her body had matured, but it was her eyes that had changed the most.

Instead of the open and happy harvest-gold they’d been in her youth, there were shadows beneath them and her expression was guarded. As it should be. After ten long years, having Cameron Morgan to show up her doorstep had to be a shock—probably not a pleasant one at that. The last time they’d been together, he’d given her a hard choice and she’d done what she always did, made the right decision.

Cameron shifted and straightened. All that was in the past. “You and your father are in danger,” he repeated, his gaze scanning her face, searching for a hint of alarm, something to indicate her understanding of the gravity of his announcement.

She smiled, the curve of her lips easing the tension from her face. “Could you give me a few more details?” The teasing tone of her voice was the Jennie he remembered—the one he’d fallen in love with in his misspent youth.

“I work for Prescott Personal Securities out of Denver. We found evidence of a possible conspiracy to buy out landowners in this area.”

“Buy out the Flying W?”

“Yes, and or the Bar M.”

“Why?”

“We’re not sure, but we think it’s because of a recent discovery of oil reserves found in the area.”

“So how does that put us in danger?” Jennie crossed her arms over her chest. “The Flying W isn’t for sale.”

“There is a possibility they’ll play rough to get the land. Maybe even kill.”

Jennie’s eyes widened. “What proof do you have?”

“Two men who, because of their debts, were forced to sell their land and businesses for cash and a share in a blind trust. After they sold their property, both were murdered. Then we discovered a disk with coordinates of the dead men’s property on it. We found the coordinates pointing to the border between the Flying W and the Bar M ranches right below the other two. We think it’s the next target for acquisition. We have reason to believe whoever murdered the two men, might come after the Wards and the Morgans in order to acquire the land.”

“What did your family say to this news?”

He shifted his hat in his hands. Why hadn’t he stopped there first? “I haven’t been there yet.”

Her frown deepened. “Why?”

“Since there are five Morgans and only two Wards, I thought…” He stopped short of telling her why he’d dropped everything in Denver, shifting his current bodyguard gig to another agent just to race out to the Flying W.

“You thought we would be the easier target, didn’t you?” Jennie’s lips tightened into a thin line. She walked across the wooden decking, leaned a hip against the rail and stared out at the pine, fir and aspens sprinkled across the hillside.

In profile, her face appeared more drawn and worried than when he’d first seen her. The sudden urge to take that worry away from her pushed him forward and he took her hands. “Jennie, I work as a bodyguard. Let me protect you and your father.”

She stared down at his hands and gently pulled hers free. “Dad will never go for it. He wouldn’t tolerate a Morgan on Ward land for the amount of time it takes for him to say ‘get the hell off.’ You remember how it was. Nothing’s changed.”

Oh, he remembered all right. The nights he’d driven his truck up to the gate with the lights off and hiked up to the house just to see her. The stolen kisses behind the barn and the walks in the moonlight through the woods. He remembered all too well, as a familiar surge of longing threatened to muddy his thoughts. “I know, but we’re both older and smarter than we were ten years ago. Surely he still isn’t carrying a grudge against the Morgans.”

Jennie’s eyebrows rose. “Please. You’re talking about Hank Ward, a man with the memory of an elephant. Whatever got them started on their silly feud is as fresh as the day it began. And you know as well as I, he’s as stubborn as that old mule out in the pasture. No way he’ll let you or anyone else protect him.”

“You don’t understand. These guys are playing for keeps. This is life or death.”

“And every day on the ranch isn’t life or death?”

When Cameron would have argued more, the sound of horses’ hooves pounding toward them caught his attention. A sorrel horse with an empty saddle raced toward the house, ears pinned back and eyes wild. At the last moment, it veered toward the barn.

Jennie pushed away from the rail. “That’s Red, Dad’s horse.” She was off the porch and running toward the barn, following the direction of the horse.

Cameron took off after her, his heart pounding against his ribs. Was he too late? Had whoever was responsible for all the killing already got to Hank Ward?

Before he cleared the side of the house, he heard the sound of a motorcycle engine revving.

Astride a four-wheeler, Jennie gunned the handle and spun around in the gravel headed straight for him.

“Wait!”

She dodged him and took off across the lawn and through the open gate leading out of the barnyard.

Cameron hopped on the back of another four-wheeler, kick-started the engine and spewed gravel in a tight turn.

Jennie was already halfway up the hillside before he passed through the gate. With a wide-open throttle, he sped after her, hoping his four-wheeling skills hadn’t gotten too rusty to keep up.

“Slow down!” Cameron called out when he pulled up beside her. “You won’t do him any good if you kill us both in the process.”

“No way. He could be hurt.” She twisted the handle sending more gas to the engine and the vehicle leaped forward.

After several minutes of hard riding they topped the rise and descended into a mountain meadow filled with blue columbines and wild irises. The leaves on the aspens were a fresh spring green. If they weren’t in such a hurry, Cameron would stop and soak up the beauty of being home in the mountains. He’d forgotten how much he missed the ranch.

But his focus remained on keeping Jennie in his sights. If he lost her, he might not find her in the vastness of the Flying W Ranch.

She topped another rise ahead of him, her vehicle slowing to a stop. Standing tall on her footrests, her head turned side to side.

Cameron pulled up beside her, set his cycle in neutral and rested his foot on the brake. Below them was another high mountain meadow. Cattle grazed, small brown specks amidst the lush green grasses.

“We moved these cattle up here yesterday. He and Rudy, our ranch hand, came up to check on them today and fix the fence in the far west corner of this meadow, past that line of trees.”

From his perch atop the ridge, Cameron scanned the meadow. Not a human could be seen, only cows. “Come on.” He shifted into gear and plunged down the side of the steep slope, dodging between the young junipers and firs dotting the east-facing slope.

Jennie followed and soon surged ahead. Skirting the herd, she led him toward a stand of old ponderosa pine. As she neared the far edge of the meadow, she slowed, allowing Cameron to close the distance and pull alongside.

As they entered the shadowy canopy of native forest, Cameron moved into the lead. Careful to dodge massive tree trunks, fallen brush and protruding roots, he hurried through the clump of trees to the other side. He could see sunlight ahead, and was that movement?

“Hey!” A voice carried to him above the roar of the motorcycle engine. At the edge of the clearing stood a young man Cameron didn’t recognize. Leaning against him with his arm draped over the young man was Hank Ward, an angry scowl marring his face.

Jennie skidded to a stop ten feet from her father. She killed the engine, leaped off the seat and raced to his side. “Dad, what happened?”

“Fell off my horse,” he grumbled.

The young man frowned. “He didn’t just fall off his horse.”

Hank glared at him, his expression fierce. “Hold your tongue, boy.”

“What happened, Rudy?” Jennie asked.

Rudy glanced at Jennie, a worried frown on his young forehead. “Someone fired a shot at him. It hit the ground in front of Red’s hooves. Spooked him so bad, he dumped Hank on the ground and lit out like his tail was on fire.”

“Damned horse reared so fast…” Hank shook his head. “I haven’t fallen off my horse since I don’t remember when.”

“Where are you hurt?” Jennie scanned her father from head to toe.

“Only my tailbone, my ankle and my pride.”

“It’s his left ankle. He couldn’t get it into the stirrup to mount and he couldn’t balance on his sore ankle long enough to get on my horse from the other side.”

“I can walk just fine,” Hank groused.

“Yeah? How about you prove it?” Rudy lifted Hank’s arm from around his neck, but Hank stopped him.

“Okay, okay. So my ankle’s botherin’ me. I’d have been all right if my danged horse hadn’t lit out of here.”

Cameron finally stepped forward. “Any idea which direction the bullet came from, Mr. Ward?”

Hank focused on Cameron as if it was the first time he’d noticed him. “Who are you?”

After ten years away from the ranch, six of which had been spent in the Army Rangers, Cameron had matured and changed.

Hank hadn’t recognized him, yet.

With a deep breath he stepped closer, ready for the worst. “Cameron Morgan, sir.”

Dead silence ensued. Even the birds stopped chirping for the five long seconds it took for Hank’s face to flush an angry red. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”

AS ANGER FIRED through her blood, Jennie stepped between them. Nothing ever changed. Why did her father have to be so pigheaded? “Dad, you’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the house. We can discuss everything there.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere with a Morgan.”

“The hell you’re not.” Jennie’s lips tightened. She might have acquiesced when she was eighteen, but at twenty-eight she’d lived a tough life on the ranch. She’d learned a lot about managing men by riding side by side with the ranch hands. Her father was a man, and a very ornery one at that. She wasn’t taking any of his bull this time. “You might be my father, but I’m not putting up with stubborn stupidity. Rudy, get him to the back of my four-wheeler. I’ll take him to the house.”

“Here, let me help.” Cameron moved to one side of Hank.

The older man glared at him. “I don’t need the help of a Morgan. They’ve caused me nothin’ but trouble. And you should know that best.” He shot a hard stare at Jennie.

Jennie hid a smile when Cameron ignored him and took his elbow, helping him to the vehicle.

Hank winced as he straddled the seat and eased down. “Danged tailbone hurts like hell. You drive slow, Jen.”

“I will, Dad.” Jennie slid onto the seat in front of her father.

“Like to know who shot at me.”

A cold, hard lump settled in Jennie’s stomach, and she glanced at Cameron. “So would we.”