Читать книгу Cowboy Sanctuary - Elle James - Страница 9

“What do you mean someone might be trying to kill me?” Hank sat bolt upright in his recliner, his face creasing in pain. He immediately eased back, relieving the pressure on his tailbone. “Shoot fire, someone almost did today. But that doesn’t mean I gotta run scared. A Ward doesn’t run.” He aimed a narrow look at Cameron as if to say some Morgans ran.

Jennie had called a meeting of the entire crew in the living room of the ranch house, against her father’s wishes.

Stan stood beside her father, Rudy sat on a hardbacked wooden chair and Doug stood near the door, looking as if being inside the living room of the house was as foreign as stepping into a queen’s palace.

“If what Cameron is telling us is true,” Jennie argued, “we could all be in danger. It’s only fair to inform everyone of what might happen.”

“I say it’s all a bunch of scare tactics by your bodyguard agency to get folks out here to hire you on.” Hank lifted up to adjust the pillow beneath his bottom. “Damn tailbone. I should be out chasing after the son-of-a—”

“Hank Ward, watch your mouth.” Ms. Blainey swept through the room carrying a tray with drinks.

“Sir, I’ll be working on my own time for this case,” Cameron stated. “You won’t be required to pay anything. Prescott Personal Securities is in this no matter whether they get paid or not. Two of our agents have already been involved and almost killed trying to figure out what’s going on and who killed the CEOs.”

When the older woman fussed over the pillows behind Hank’s head, he waved her away. “Leave it, woman. I can do for myself.”

“I can see that,” Ms. Blainey said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, undeterred by Hank’s surly disposition.

The owner of the Flying W focused his attention on Cameron. “Why don’t you go put a tail on the Russian mob, or figure out who owns that blind trust and leave us alone?”

“I understand your frustration, sir,” Cameron stated. “But this could be a very dangerous situation for you and Jennie.”

Jennie watched the two men posturing in the living room. If Cameron hoped to win her father over, he had to be the sound and rational one. Hank could get downright blustery and mean. As the younger man, and a Morgan, he had to prove to the old coot he could keep his cool, no matter what was thrown at him.

“We don’t have any evidence other than a land coordinate found on a disk full of other land coordinates, two of which match the land formerly owned by dead men,” Cameron explained again. “There are not enough hard facts to get the police interested. We’re not sure of the motive for the killings, but we think you might be in danger.”

“Sounds like you don’t know much.” Hank’s words were spoken with harsh undertones, clearly meant as an insult.

Cameron nodded, a serious frown bringing his eyebrows together. “That’s right, sir. We don’t know enough. But we’re fairly certain that whatever happens next will happen to either the Wards or the Morgans.”

Hank slapped the arm of his chair. “Then go warn your family. We’ll take care of our own.”

“I will, sir.” Cameron stepped forward, his jaw hardening. “When I’m done here.”

The older man glared at Cameron. “You’re done as far as I’m concerned.”

Jennie could have kicked her father. “If you’d stop being such a horse’s behind, you might listen to the rest. Cameron’s offered to stay on and be our bodyguard until this thing blows over.”

Hank barked out a cross between a snort and laughter. The movement jostled his body and a moan escaped his lips. He winced and shifted on the pillow. “A Morgan playing bodyguard to a Ward? No way. Especially not to my Jennie. That’s kinda like the fox guarding the henhouse, if you ask me. I won’t have you breakin’ her heart all over again.”

Heat burned a path up Jennie’s neck to fill her cheeks. “Dad, that was a long time ago. It’s not as if he’ll break anybody’s heart. There’s nothing between the two of us anymore.” She could feel the warmth of Cameron’s gaze on her, but she hesitated to face him.

After a deep breath, she turned toward the first man she’d ever loved and leveled a stare at him, telling herself she believed what she’d said—there was nothing left between them. He’d left ten years ago. She’d married after he left and the rest was history.

Relationships hurt, sometimes physically, and she wanted no part of that. She wasn’t interested in starting something with Cameron Morgan at all. Not one bit. A little voice in the back of her consciousness whispered, “Liar.” Squelching that voice, she said, “There’s nothing between us, isn’t that right?”

Cameron caught her gaze and held it for a long moment before he answered. “That’s right.”

Despite her conviction, the ache in her belly left her empty. She knew better than anyone relationships didn’t always work out. She and Cameron never really had a chance, not with the way their families felt about each other and the way Cameron felt about staying on the ranch. The circumstances hadn’t changed. The Morgans still hated the Wards and the feeling was mutual on her father’s part.

“I don’t care whether or not there’s anything goin’ on between you two,” Hank said. “Strike that. Yes I do care, but that’s beside the point. We can take care of our own.”

“Bull.” Jennie propped her hands on her hips. “You won’t be getting around for at least two weeks on that ankle. We only have three men to work the ranch. If we pull them to baby-sit you and me, who will take care of the livestock?”

Her father opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again and then crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t want a Morgan on my property.”

Jennie crossed her own arms over her chest like her father and leveled a fierce look at him. “Tough. How do you explain that snake in the feed bin last week?”

“Hungry snake?” Hank countered.

Jennie rolled her eyes. “You know as well as everyone else, those lids are always on tight to keep the mice out.”

“Someone probably forgot to put it back.” Hank’s voice was more belligerent than convincing.

“Do you ever leave the lid off the feed bins Stan, Rudy, Doug?” She glanced at each man one at a time. Each shook his head and mumbled, “No, ma’am.” Doug fidgeted with the straw cowboy hat he held between his large calloused hands, his gaze darting toward the door every few minutes.

Perhaps having the hands in on the discussion wasn’t the right way to handle the problem. They liked their solitude, especially Doug, the loner.

“You should have seen Miss Jennie when she saw that snake.” Rudy grinned at Cameron. “Hit it with her first shot—using a pistol, no less.”

Refusing to be sidetracked, Jennie brought up the issue she’d discovered that morning. “What about the razor blade in my saddle?”

Cameron’s eyes widened. “Razor blade?”

Jennie nodded.

Her father didn’t have an answer for that one. His face set in a stubborn scowl. “I won’t have a Morgan on my property.”

“Seems like you’re in no condition to disagree.” Jennie leaned close to her father, her face in an equally stubborn scowl. “If I say he stays, he stays.”

Hank’s cheeks burned red beneath the tanned, leatherlike skin. “This is my ranch, girl. I make the decisions.”

“Oh quit your bellyaching, Hank, and take these painkillers.” Rachel Blainey was back in the room, handing Hank two tablets and a tall glass of lemonade. “Jennie’s right. You need help, whether you like it or not. Cameron’s offering at no cost. You’d be a fool to refuse.”

“What’s with the women in this house? Isn’t a man’s home supposed to be his castle?” Hank tossed the pills to the back of his throat and swallowed a gulp of lemonade. “I will not be overruled by a couple of women. I’m the boss and I can fire you if I want.” His bluster faded a bit when Rachel winced.

The older woman stood firm. “You have that right, but you’d be an even bigger fool to do it. Who would cook the meals?”

He nodded toward Jennie.

She shook her head and smiled. “You want to live to be eighty, don’t you?”

“Then Rudy can learn to cook.”

Rudy backed away, his hands held up. “Oh no, not me. I wouldn’t know a pan from a skillet. Besides, who would take care of the animals?”

Hank turned a hopeful look on Stan Keller, his foreman and longtime friend.

Stan shook his head. “All I can cook is canned beans and weenies. Care to eat that three times a day, seven days a week? I like Ms. Rachel’s cookin’. I like it enough I’d consider quittin’if she was to up and leave.”

Hank’s brows rose high on his forehead. “You won’t leave me. You’re practically family.”

“So’s Ms. Rachel,” Stan replied.

Hank snorted and stared around at the set faces. “Overruled on my on property. I don’t like it.” He pounded the arm of the recliner with his palm. “Morgans don’t belong on the Flying W.”

“Says who?” Jennie asked. “Whatever’s stuck in your craw better just get unstuck. He’s staying.”

WITH ONE HURDLE CROSSED, Cameron headed to the small town of Dry Wash to inform the sheriff of the attempts on the Wards’ lives. After the sheriff promised to make a trek out to the Flying W for further information, Cameron left for the Bar M Ranch to warn his family of the trouble headed their way. Frankly, he didn’t expect any warmer welcome from some of his relatives than he’d got from Hank Ward.

When he pulled into the yard and parked, a young woman with auburn hair and bright green eyes flew off the porch and attacked him before he could shut his truck door. “Whoa, wait a minute there, Molly.”

“Cameron!” She hugged him around the middle so hard he could barely breathe. “I can’t believe it’s you. Let me look at you.” She leaned back, her arms still around his waist, tears shimmering in her eyes. “You’re back and you look great.”

“Hey, carrot.” He ruffled his sister’s hair and set her away. “Let me get a look at you. What’s it been—two years?”

“Make that three.” Molly tossed her bright auburn hair, her green eyes flashing.

Cameron marveled at how much she looked like their mother. Happy and sweet—the spitting image of Emma Morgan.

“Last time I saw you was at my high school graduation.” Her gaze was accusing, tempered by her ready smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at college?”

“I finished my last exam two days ago. I couldn’t wait to come home, I’ve been so homesick.”

Cameron knew that feeling. “Denver’s not that far, knucklehead.” He rubbed the top of her head as he’d done when she was no taller then his belt buckle. Now, she stood up to his chin at five feet ten. No longer a gangly teen, she’d filled out in all the right places. “Hey, when did you grow up?”

She punched him in the belly and then raised the same hand to straighten her hair. “A long time ago, doofus. Come on, I know Mom will be over the moon to see you.” She hooked her arm around his waist and led him up the steps and through the front door of the two-story stone-and-cedar ranch house.

How many times had he hopped up those same steps two at a time growing up on the Bar M Ranch? Back then, he didn’t have a care in the world, never thinking past dinner or riding his favorite horse the next day. His chest tightened. He’d missed home.

Then why the heck had he stayed away so long?

“Hey, brother.” The sound of his older brother’s voice reminded him of the reason why. Logan Morgan stepped through the door leading to the kitchen. Instead of the hug Molly had given him, Logan held out his hand. “Been a while.”

Cameron grasped his brother’s hand and shook, his grip strong. A measure of a man’s worth, his father would say. “Molly was just reminding me how long.” Where had the easy camaraderie they’d shared in their youth gone? For over a decade, Logan had been cold and distant to him. Ever since he’d started seeing Jennie Ward. He might as well have committed treason or murder by the way Logan and his father treated him.

If not for his mother and Molly, Cameron wouldn’t have returned to the Bar M. Though he loved the land and enjoyed working with his hands, he’d been a stranger in his own home, ostracized for his association with the Ward girl, as they loved to call her. Even after he’d left to join the army and Jennie had refused to leave with him, his father and brother hadn’t forgiven him or welcomed him back into the fold. Old wounds only seemed to fester and grow deeper.

“What brings you home?” Logan dropped his hand and hooked a thumb in his belt loop.

“Do I have to have a reason other than to see my family?” Cameron asked.

“Usually. Molly’s graduation and Mom’s surgery were the only times you’ve been home over the past five years. We’re all healthy here and Molly doesn’t graduate college for another year or more.” Logan’s brows rose over deep brown eyes. Where Molly favored their mother, Logan was a mirror image of their father in looks and attitude.

Cameron fell in the middle. Black hair like his father, green eyes like his mother and somewhere in the center between the rigid views of Tom Morgan and the full-time mediator who was Emma Morgan. He was saved from an answer by a whirlwind of denim and chambray.

“Cam, honey! I can’t believe it’s you.” Emma Morgan strode into the room, her Dingo-booted feet tapping against the hardwood floors. The dust in her hair made it hard to determine how much was dust and how much of her auburn curls had turned gray. Without hesitation, she pulled him into her arms and hugged him close. “God, I missed you.” She held on for longer than usual until Logan cleared his throat, ending the touching reunion.

Cameron could have gone on a lot longer hugging his mother. Until she’d come through the door, he hadn’t realized how much he’d missed her smile and her down-to-earth ways. What you saw was what you got with Emma Morgan. She didn’t have a secretive, mean or tricky bone in her body. Molly was just like her and he loved them both all the more. “Hi, Mom. I missed you, too.”

When she pulled away, a tear made a trail down the dust on her cheeks. Reaching up she brushed it away. “Now see there, you’ll have me bawling like a newborn calf if you don’t watch out.”

Fighting the lump lodged in his throat, Cameron smiled. “Maybe I’ll join you.”

“While you two are crying, I have horses to tend.” Logan left without looking back.

Emma’s gaze followed him. “I don’t understand that boy.”

Her “boy” was all of thirty and then some.

“He needs to fall in love or something to take the edge off,” Molly said.

“Wish he would. Might bring him down a peg or two to meet his match in a female.” Emma’s attention returned to Cameron, her smile returning with it. “It’s good to have you home, son.”

“It’s good to be back.” Despite the bad feelings between him and the male members of his family, Cameron really was glad to be back in the mountains. “What have you been up to?” He stood back and stared down at her dusty jeans.

His mother laughed. “I was lunging a new filly I think will make a good mount for Molly. Logan’s set to break her next week.” Emma Morgan didn’t apologize for her appearance and Cameron didn’t expect her to. From the time she could walk she’d been riding horses. Having children or a husband didn’t slow her down for a minute. In this respect, Molly was slightly different. Although an accomplished barrel racer, Molly wasn’t as passionate about riding horses as her mother, preferring to go to college and learn more about what goes into making a good healthy horse.

“Did Molly tell you she made Dean’s List again?” his mother asked.

Cameron clapped a hand to his sister’s back. “So, does that make every semester so far?”

Molly shrugged, but a grin lit her freckled face. “Yeah. Gotta have top grades to get into Colorado State’s Veterinary School.”

“You’ll make it at that rate.” His sister was smart and determined to succeed, like every other Morgan on the ranch. They’d been raised to win. He wondered where he’d have been if he’d taken the football scholarship to University of Colorado, instead of tossing it all and joining the army. Not that he regretted joining the army. He’d learned more in his six years as a Ranger than if he’d spent the same six in college.

“Molly, why don’t you get your brother something to drink?”

“What’ll you have? Coffee, soda or beer? I’m legal now, you know.” Already on her way to the kitchen, Molly smiled over her shoulder. “What’ll it be?”

“Water would be great.”

As soon as Molly left the living room, Emma Morgan’s smile turned downward. “What’s wrong?”

His mother could always see through him and he wasn’t going to stall her as he had Logan. His mother would listen and if he hoped to get his father to hear and understand, he had to convince her of the danger and the need to be careful. “Prescott Personal Securities has come across some kind of conspiracy and we think it’s headed toward the border of the Bar M and the Flying W.”

The light died in her eyes and her lips thinned into a straight line. “Tell me about it.”

Molly returned with a glass of water and they sat on the brown leather chairs around the stone fireplace. For the next twenty minutes Cameron told them what he’d told the Wards.

“Wow. It’s all kinda scary. Do you really think we’re in danger?” Molly asked, a frown mixing the freckles on her brow.

Cameron nodded, his gaze focused on his mother’s worried, dust-streaked face. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know you wouldn’t have come out to tell us if you didn’t mean it.” His mother patted his hand. “I’m just sorry it has to be bad news that brings you out.” She sighed. “Now, all we have to do is convince the men. I’m going to clean up for dinner. Your father will be in at any moment. Logan’s probably clued him in that you’re here.”

As soon as his mother left the room, Molly pounced on him with questions of her own. “How was Jennie? I haven’t seen her in so long. Are you two going to start seeing each other again? I think this whole feud mess is just stupid and we should tell Dad to just get over it.”

“Tell Dad to get over what?” The deep, rich timbre of Tom Morgan’s voice filled the room all the way to the exposed rough-hewn timbers in the cathedral ceiling.

Cameron rose from the chair and almost laughed out loud at his sister.

Molly’s eyes widened and she gulped. She stood and hooked Cameron’s arm, turning him to face his father. “Dad, look who’s here.”

His father dipped his head. “Son.” No hug, no smile. Just one word and it was as cold as a blue norther screaming down off the slopes. What did it take to melt the mountain of ice around his father’s heart? Would he ever forgive him for making his own choices and meet him halfway?

“Hi, Dad.” Not for the first time, Cameron regretted the loss of the closeness they’d shared in his teens. Cameron had never understood the rift between Tom Morgan and Hank Ward, and his father hadn’t bothered to enlighten him. The feud resulting from the rift had been the major reason he’d left everything he loved behind—the Bar M Ranch, his family and Jennie.

Logan entered behind his father and stood beside him.

“What brings you out of the big city?” His father slapped his hat against his thigh, a thin cloud of dust rising from the denim.

Cameron knew better than to sugarcoat anything for his father. “Trouble.”

Logan snorted. “Figures.”

“What kind of trouble?” his father asked.

“I think someone might be out to hurt either the Morgans or the Wards. Maybe both. I just came over from the Flying W. Someone took a shot at Hank Ward.”

“Good, the old man probably deserves it,” Logan said.

But his father didn’t respond immediately. His jaw tightened and his brown eyes burned. “You went to the Flying W instead of telling your own family first?”

He should have expected his father to react that way. Nevertheless the older man’s words rubbed Cameron wrong. Jennie had been his sweetheart, his first love.

Tom Morgan had never reconciled himself to Cameron seeing Jennie and viewed his association as defection to the other side.

Cameron opened his mouth to explain his reasoning and thought better of it. “Yes. I stopped at the Flying W.”

“You always were the black sheep. I never could get it through your head that Morgans and Wards don’t mix.”

Molly blew out a loud sigh and let go of Cameron’s arm. “While you men are conducting your pissing contest, I’ll put fresh sheets on the bed in your old room.”

“Don’t bother, Molly.” Cameron’s gaze met his father’s. “I’ll be staying at the Flying W.”