Читать книгу Genuine Cowboy - Joanna Wayne - Страница 8

Troy Ledger turned off the TV and walked back to his small kitchen, taking his half-empty plate with him. He’d just caught the tail end of the six o’clock news, and that had been enough to kill his appetite.

Orson Bastion had escaped from the pen and taken out a guard in the process. Talk about a brutal reminder of his prison life. Impulsively, his hand moved to the scar on his cheek.

His thoughts moved to Eve Worthington. The news of Bastion’s escape had to be frightening for her. If he had her phone number he’d call her. But best that he didn’t have it. For all he knew, she’d left the area by now.

Troy washed his plate, rinsed it and stood it in the drainer. He reached for the skillet he’d used to fry a slice of ham for his sandwich and immersed it in the hot, soapy water. The old dishwasher needed replacing, but there wasn’t much need for a fancy machine when a man lived alone.

His son, Dylan, and Dylan’s new wife, Collette, had moved out of the old family house and into their starter ranch house two weeks earlier. They needed their privacy. They were only a good horse ride away, but Troy missed them a lot more than he was willing to admit.

Troy and Dylan had built the newlyweds’ house themselves, with lots of suggestions from Collette. She was quite a woman, even reminded him of Helene a little. Not that he needed a reminder of Helene. She was seldom far from his mind and never out of his heart. Never had been. Never would be.

But the last few months of working with his son on the house and the ranch they were getting up and running again had meant more to Troy than Dylan could possibly realize. Seventeen years in prison had robbed Troy of much of his five sons’ childhood and all of their adolescence. They’d grown from boys to men without him. Dylan was the only one of the five who’d shown any interest in having Troy back in his life. He prayed that would change one day, but he couldn’t count on it.

Troy finished the dishes and dried his hands. It was only six in the evening, but he was exhausted. Working from sunup to sundown did that for a man. Fatigue didn’t bother him. The prospect of spending another night alone in the rambling old house did.

He could handle the days, but alone at night, memories of Helene haunted his mind. He could hear her laughter, sweet and melodic, filling the house as she interacted with their rambunctious sons.

He could smell her fragrance, like a bouquet from the garden she’d pampered like one of their children. He could see her on Sunday morning, her dark, shiny hair dancing about her shoulders, leading them all to church whether they liked it or not.

But the most devastating memories came when he crawled into the bed he’d once shared with Helene. It had taken him weeks to even enter the master bedroom, had taken weeks more before he could bear sleeping in the bed.

Even now, three months later, he couldn’t stretch out between the sheets without his arms literally aching to wrap around her and feel her warm, loving body cuddled against his. Some nights the pain was all but unbearable.

He leaned against the sink as the memories swelled inside him. The gentle ache in his chest erupted into heated stabs that threatened to slice his heart into pieces.

The images swirling in his head darkened as the nightmare he’d lived over and over for almost two decades took front and center: Helene’s body in a pool of blood, faceup, her head against the hearth, her beautiful locks of hair matted with crimson.

The pain became blinding and this time much too physical. Troy clutched his chest as he stumbled backward, falling against the scarred wooden table. Each beat of his heart was agony.

Then reality checked in. This was more than grief. He was having a coronary attack.

There was a knock at the door as he tried to drag himself to the phone. The door was unlocked, as it usually was on the ranch. He waited, hoping it was Dylan. But there was no reason to think his son would return tonight.

He heard a child’s voice, or maybe he was hallucinating.

He fell over a chair and the crash reverberated through the house.

“Troy, are you in there? Are you okay?”

The voice was female, vaguely familiar. He tried to answer, but all he managed was a guttural moan.

“Troy, what’s wrong?”

He looked up and into the eyes of Eve Worthington. Now he was certain he was hallucinating. The last person who’d be coming to his rescue was the young psychiatrist who’d worked so hard to pull him from his emotional shell while he was in prison.

“Please tell me what’s wrong. Is it your heart?”

His response was choked by the pain.

“Hang in here with me, Troy. I’m calling an ambulance.”

The room began to spin. He tried to focus on Eve, only to have her disappear in a swirl of darkness.

He wouldn’t die. He couldn’t. Not until he found Helene’s killer. He would not fail her again.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH HIM, Momma? Is he dying?”

“Shh, Joey. He’s sick. We have to help him.”

Troy muttered something unintelligible. She leaned in closer so that she could hear him better.

“Dylan,” he gasped. “Call Dylan.”

Dylan—the son Gordon Epps had mentioned. “I’ll get him,” she said, her fingers already punching in 911 on her unfamiliar cell phone. Once she was assured medical help was on the way, she glanced around the room and spotted Troy’s cell phone on the kitchen table.

She left Troy’s side long enough to get it. It took only a second to find Dylan’s number amidst Troy’s limited contacts. He answered on the second ring.

“What’s up, Dad?”.

“This isn’t Troy, but I’m with him. I think he’s having a heart attack. I’ve called an ambulance, but he’s asking for you.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. She wasn’t even sure she was making sense.

“Who is this?”.

“I’m just a friend who happened to drop in. Troy’s in a lot of pain and barely conscious.”.

“I’ll be right there.”.

“I’m scared, Momma. Let’s go home.”.

She looked at her son. “We can’t go yet, sweetie.” She held out a hand and he inched toward her, clearly frightened of Troy.

“Eve.” Troy’s speech was clearer, but sweat beaded on his brow and his breathing was still labored.

“I’m right here, Troy.”.

“Orson …”.

“Yeah.” She cradled Troy’s head in her arms. “He’s escaped.”.

“Dangerous … Stay safe.”.

“I will.” Even in the panic of a heart attack, Troy was worried about her. That was so like him. Thank God, she’d shown up when she did.

Joey tugged on her arm. She tried to pull him down beside her, but he backed away. “Is that a bad man?”

“No. He’s my friend.”.

The words didn’t convince Joey, and she couldn’t do much to make him feel safe until the emergency was over. Fortunately, the door flew open minutes later and a good-looking man in jeans rushed in, still pulling on his shirt. An attractive woman with flaming red hair followed right behind.

She stood and moved away so that they could squeeze in beside Troy. “I’m Eve Worthington, an old friend of your father’s. I just—” The scream of an approaching ambulance drowned out the rest of her words.

Dylan took over from there and the next few minutes passed in a blur of activity. Joey began to tremble as the house filled with strangers and medics who worked quickly to get Troy onto the gurney and into the ambulance. Eve held on to his shaking hand, tugging him out of the way and giving assurances as best she could amid the chaos.

Both Dylan and Collette Ledger were so engrossed in their concern for Troy that they simply accepted her explanation as being an old friend without question. It wasn’t until Dylan had thanked her profusely and rushed to follow the ambulance to the hospital that she had a minute to reflect on her own situation.

It wasn’t good. Once she’d realized that the police weren’t taking concerns for her and Joey’s safety seriously, she decided to take Gordon’s advice and pay Troy a visit. She really hadn’t thought beyond that.

For the first time since she’d arrived on the scene, Eve really looked at Collette Ledger. Even in sweatpants, she was striking, with thick red hair that fell in loose curls about her shoulders and a faultless complexion.

Eve suspected they were near the same age, though Collette could easily be a few years younger than her thirty-one years.

“I’m so thankful you dropped by,” Collette said. “I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

“I’m glad I was here, too,” Eve said. “Believe me, my timing is not usually that good.”

“You’re not from this area, are you?”

“No. I live in Dallas.”

“I didn’t think I’d seen you around town before. How do you know Troy?”

“From prison.”

“Really? Prison.”

“I was his psychiatrist.”

“You don’t look like a psyche. Not that you looked like an inmate. I mean …”

“It’s okay,” Eve assured her. “We’re both a little shaken now.”

“That’s for sure. I don’t know what your experience with Troy has been, but I’m guessing it was good, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“I’m very fond of him,” Eve said.

“So am I, Collette agreed. “He’s difficult to get to know, but once he opens up to you, you can’t help but like him. And no matter what anyone says, I know he didn’t kill his wife. Dylan realizes that, too.”

“I agree,” Eve said.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page here. Troy didn’t mention that you were stopping by tonight.”.

“I was going to surprise him,” Eve said. Shock him was more like it. And ask him if she could stay with him a few days. That was out of the question now. There was no reason to get into any of that with Collette, though.

“I’ll be going now,” Eve said. “There’s nothing more I can do here except get in the way.”.

“Where are you going?”.

An excellent question that Eve couldn’t honestly answer. She’d had no backup plan. Eve quickly considered her options. “Joey and I are on our way to visit friends in Austin,” she lied.

Joey tugged on the hem of her shirt. “You said we were going to a ranch.”.

“We did. This is it. Now we’re off to the rest of our adventure.”.

“There’s no need to rush off,” Collette said. “If you’re half as shaken as I am, you’re in no shape to drive. And I could really use the company. I hate the thought of waiting alone for news about Troy. I’ll make coffee.”.

“Coffee sounds good. And I do think I’m still in a bit of shock.”.

Collette filled the pot with water from the tap and spooned the grinds into the filter. “I’m so worried about my father-in-law that I can barely measure the water.”.

“Troy’s tough. If anyone can pull through a heart attack, it’s him,” Eve said, unconsciously falling into the psychiatrist role. Not that they were certain Troy had a heart attack, but it had certainly appeared to be a coronary trauma.

“Have you had dinner?” Collette asked. “I’m not sure what Troy has in his fridge, but I have leftover roast beef and gravy at my house, or I could make you a salad. And I’m sure we could rustle up the makings of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at either house, if Joey would prefer that.”.

“Thanks, but we’ve had dinner.” Joey had eaten half a sandwich and a few apple slices in the car. That qualified as a major meal for him. As for herself, she hadn’t eaten anything all day except a half slice of toast and a few cashews she’d munched in the car. Her stomach had been in no condition for food after the morning’s call from Gordon. Her insides were even shakier now.

“What’s your son’s name?” Collette asked. “You probably said already, but it didn’t register in the bedlam.”.

Eve rested her hands on his shoulders. “This is Joey.”.

“Hi, Joey.”.

The boy mumbled a hello, his eyes downcast.

“Joey. I like that name,” Collette said. “Would you like to watch TV? I can probably find the cartoon channel if you’ll help me.”.

Joey nodded, but scrunched himself against Eve’s leg as if Collette had threatened a time-out.

“He’s shy around strangers,” Eve said, wishing that was all that kept him glued to her.

“Can’t blame him for being a little cautious, considering what we’ve been dealing with tonight. Why don’t you get him settled in the family room? I’ll bring the coffee when it’s brewed.”.

“Thanks.”

Joey clung to her leg, his thin fingers digging into the fabric of her trousers as he shadowed her to the couch. By the time she found a channel he liked, Collette was returning with the coffee, a glass of milk and two oatmeal cookies that appeared to be homemade. Collette set the milk and cookies near Joey.

He mumbled a thank-you, and smiled timidly, staring at Collette from beneath his dark lashes. Eve experienced another wave of uneasiness that bordered on panic. They would have been safe here, even if Orson did still have the crazy notion of coming after her. It was certainly the kind of thing that a manipulative, revengeful person like Orson would do. Now her only option would be a stuffy hotel, and even taking Joey to a park would involve risk.

She and Collette moved to chairs near the window, still in Joey’s sight, but not so close that he’d hear every word, even if he had been listening. Fortunately, he appeared lost in a cartoon.

Eve supplied the most basic facts about her relationship with Troy—that he had become a friend as well as a patient when she had served as his therapist during his incarceration. She’d stopped working at the prison two years ago and hadn’t seen Troy since that time. She felt remiss for not getting in touch with him sooner.

“I wish everyone saw Troy as you do,” Collette said. “Too many people around here still see him as a murderer. Troy never complains, but I know the suspicions and mistrust take their toll. I think it hurts him most that his sons have avoided seeing him since his release—except for Dylan, of course.”

“Troy always talked a lot about his sons.”.

“He will be so sorry he missed visiting with you.”.

The conversation turned to less stressful topics. Ranch life. The house Dylan and Collette had just built. Helene’s treasured courtyard garden that Collette had restored with Dylan and Troy’s help. Life in the small town of Mustang Run.

When Colette’s phone rang, Eve was surprised to see that an hour had passed since the ambulance had sped away with Troy inside.

Collette pulled the phone from her pocket and checked the caller ID. “It’s Dylan.”.

The tension seemed to melt from Collette’s features as she talked, allowing Eve to breathe easier. She stood and took their coffee cups to the sink, giving Collette a little privacy. For once, Joey didn’t follow.

Collette was smiling when she joined her in the kitchen. “They’re still running tests, but Troy is responding to treatment and meds. He’s conscious and talking.”.

“Thank goodness.”.

Moisture brimmed in Collette’s eyes. “It would have been so sad if Troy had lost his life just when he was finding it again. I just hope his other sons give him a chance the way Dylan has.”.

“Maybe tonight’s incident will open their eyes,” Eve said.

“I wouldn’t bet on it, but I’m sure Dylan will let them know about it. Anyway, Dylan said Troy remembers that you were here, and he’s asked about you.”

She’d almost hoped he wouldn’t remember. He didn’t need to waste his energy worrying about her.

“He seems to be under the impression that you’re in some kind of trouble,” Collette said.

“I’m sure I didn’t say anything to give him that impression.”.

“Still, Dylan says he seems anxious to see you. I know this is an imposition, but is there any way you could make a quick trip to the hospital in the morning? It would mean a lot to him.”.

“I’m not sure.” She wasn’t even sure she’d stay in Austin. Perhaps the best thing now would be to just go home and rely on the police for protection.

“You could stay the night,” Collette said. “Then you wouldn’t have to drive these unfamiliar country roads in the dark.”.

“You mean stay here at the ranch?”.

“Sure, there’s lots of room,” Colette said. “It’s not fancy, but it’s comfortable. I’d invite you to stay with Dylan and me, but unfortunately we haven’t furnished the guest room as yet.”.

Staying here was the perfect solution. Even if Orson was still planning revenge, he wouldn’t show up here. And by morning Orson might be behind bars again.

“I suppose I could stay tonight,” she said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “If you’re sure Troy won’t mind.”.

“After you saved his life? Not that he’d mind anyway. I’ll help you get your things out of the car and show you to the guest rooms. All the beds have new mattresses and linens, so you can take your pick.”

“I can manage the luggage. I’ll just bring in an overnight bag.”.

“Then I’ll straighten the kitchen. Oh, but first give me your cell phone number in case I need to get in touch with you about Troy. That way you won’t have to bother picking up the house phone if it rings and answering a hundred questions if someone calls for Troy. And I’ll give you my number in case you need something in the house that you can’t locate.”.

Eve was hesitant to give Collette her phone number. The phone was new, temporary, bought with cash at a convenience store to make certain Orson could not use it to track her down. It had been purchased right after she’d gone to the bank and withdrawn five thousand dollars so that she wouldn’t have to use her credit cards.

The only one who had the phone number was Gordon Epps—and the ambulance service, if they bothered to check their incoming call records.

But surely Collette could be trusted.

Once they’d exchanged numbers, Eve took her car keys from her pocket and started to her car. Joey jumped off the couch when he saw her pass with her keys in hand.

“I’ll be right back, sweetie. You can keep watching TV. I’m just going to the car to get our luggage.”.

“What about our adventure?”.

“It’s late, and I’m very tired. We’ll spend the night and get an early start in the morning.”.

“I don’t want to spend the night here. I wanna sleep in my bed.”

“Your bed is all the way back in Dallas. Besides, this is your first visit to a real ranch.”.

“And in the morning, I’ll show you the cows and the horses,” Colette said. “Do you like horses?”.

“I think so. I never got close to one,” he said, hurrying to keep up with Eve as she started toward the car. “But I need to go home.”.

Eve stooped and hugged him. “It’s going to be okay, Joey. You’ll like it here, and I’ll sleep next to you.”.

“Promise?”.

“I promise.”.

The howl of coyotes in the distance and the forlorn hoot of an owl greeted them as they stepped onto the porch. Dark shadows jumped out at her as she took the creaking steps to the walk. Weirdly, she had a chilling feeling that someone was watching her.

It was just the isolation of the ranch and the fear that stalked her. She couldn’t give in to it. Yet the icy trepidation stayed with her until she and Joey were back inside the well-lit house.

She’d be safe here. To believe otherwise in the face of the facts would be letting Orson Bastion win the battle of minds without him ever making a move against her.

She was tougher than that.

THE CREAKS AND RASPS of the rambling old ranch house set Eve’s nerves on edge. Surprisingly, the same had not been true for Joey. He’d fallen asleep mere minutes after she’d tucked him into a twin bed at the end of the long hallway.

Once she was sure he was sleeping soundly, Eve left him to brush her teeth and wash and cream her face in the nearby bathroom.

Thoughts of Orson continued to plague Eve’s mind as she slipped into her cotton pajamas. Of all the inmates she’d counseled, he’d been the only one she dreaded having to talk to—even before the night he’d left no doubt that he could kill her without a second’s remorse.

Joey was still sleeping soundly when she returned to the bedroom, but anxiety was buzzing inside Eve like a horde of angry bumblebees. Knowing sleep wouldn’t come quickly, she went back to the family room and turned on the TV.

The local news was coming up next. Great. If they’d just announce that Orson Bastion had been recaptured, her nightmare could end and she could not only get a good night’s sleep, but actually look forward to seeing Troy in the morning.

She shed her slippers and stretched out on the brown leather sofa while a string of commercials aired. Finally the screen switched to the newsroom of a local channel.

“Stay tuned for breaking news concerning escaped convict Orson Bastion.”.

Eve tensed and waited. When a sophisticated blond anchor appeared, the grim expression on her meticulously made-up face guaranteed the news would be disturbing.

“A young woman was fatally strangled after being kidnapped from a Dallas shopping center this afternoon. Her car was found deserted a few hours later. Police suspect that escaped prisoner Orson Bastion may have been involved in the death.”.

Eve clutched a throw pillow to her chest and fought off a bout of nausea. Orson had killed again, which was exactly what she’d testified he’d do if he was released from prison.

He’d exhibited so many behaviors consistent with that of a psychopath, especially the lack of emotional involvement with others. The only thing that was missing was the fact that he didn’t have a real history of criminal behavior; or, if he did, she hadn’t been made aware of it.

He was in jail for killing his stepbrother in an act of rage. He’d only received a charge of second-degree murder. Orson had been twenty-eight years old at the time. He was forty now.

Eve flicked off the TV. She didn’t need to hear more. Gordon had said Orson would never look for her at the Ledger ranch, but what if Gordon was wrong? Still, this was likely the safest place on the planet, at least for the time being.

If Troy were here, she’d likely feel totally safe, but she was alone in this rambling old house, without so much as a weapon to protect her son.

She walked to the kitchen, checked the drawers and took out a carving knife. Just in case. Not that she’d need it. Still, knife in hand, she wandered back into the den just as streams of light flicked across the window. The low hum of an engine purred and then stopped.

Someone was here, parked in the driveway.

Surely not Orson. He couldn’t have found her this quickly. Yet adrenaline pumped through her leaving her shaking so violently she had to hold the knife with both hands.

Heavy footsteps clumped across the wooden porch. Eve fought the rising panic. She had to stay calm. She could do this. She had to do this. If the man outside the door was Orson, a lock would never deter him.

She stood so that she’d be behind the door if it opened, poised to bury the blade of the knife in Orson’s back the minute he stepped inside—if it was Orson.

She heard the flick of a key in the lock. If the person at the door had a key, surely it wasn’t Orson. The knob turned, the door opened and the intruder stepped across the threshold.

His breathing was deep and sharp. His voice echoed though the room.

“The day of reckoning has finally come.”