Читать книгу The Stranger Next Door - Joanna Wayne - Страница 12

Langley Randolph ducked out of the rain and into the front door of Gus’s Corner Café. He shook the moisture from his Stetson hat and stamped the mud from his boots.

“Not a fit night out for man nor beast,” Gus called from behind the counter. He wiped his hands on the white work apron that stretched over his ample paunch. “What brings you into town?”

“Work. The storm triggered the alarm at Higgins’s Supermarket. I expected as much, but I had to eyeball the place and make certain it was nothing else.”

“Higgins needs to shell out a little cash and update that system. His alarm goes off if the wind blows crooked. Still, I’m glad for your company. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“You can.” Langley shed his jacket and tossed it over one of the spare hooks supplied for the purpose. “I can use the caffeine. I’ve got a little more work to do before I can call it a night.”

“Looks like you’re serious about your temporary stint as sheriff.”

“Not by choice. I’ll take my cud-chewing critters to trouble-causing humans any day.”

“Well, you can’t blame your brother for wanting a honeymoon. If I had a wife half as pretty as Lacy, I might even chuck my boots under the bed and pull on one of them flowered Hi-waiian shirts.”

“Yeah, well, it would take more than a woman for me to wear that getup.”

“You just haven’t met the right woman yet. Everyone said Branson would never take the plunge and he was grinnin’ like a mule eatin’ thistles when the preacher tightened that marriage knot around his neck.”

“That was Branson. This is me.” Langley settled onto a bar stool at the counter.

“This is a new brand of coffee,” Gus said, setting a mug of steaming brew in front of Langley. “All the big restaurants in San Antonio have switched to it. At least that’s what my supplier said.”

Langley tried it while Gus watched.

“How’s it taste?” he asked before Langley placed the cup back on the counter.

“Like a new brand.”

“I mean, do you like it?”

“It’s coffee. I liked the old brand just fine.”

“You’re stuck in your ways, Langley Randolph. Do you know that?” Gus leaned over the table and wiped at a stain that didn’t want to give up. “Just plain stuck in your ways about everything except your cows. You got to have all the latest breeding methods on your ranch, but you want everything else about your life to stay the same. That’s why you don’t have a wife.”

“Right. So how about one of those same old cheeseburgers you make? And a side of those same old onion rings?”

Gus grinned. “Well, at least you’ve got good taste. I’ll fix me one and join you. I doubt I’ll get any more paying customers tonight in this downpour. Everybody’s home propping their feet under their own table.”

“Yeah. Too bad we didn’t get this rain about August when my grass was dying from the drought.”

“Well, then we wouldn’t be living in south Texas, would we?”

Gus grabbed a couple of beef patties from the cooler and plopped them onto the hot grill. They spit and sputtered, and Langley’s stomach reacted appropriately. He’d have preferred to be one of the folks with their feet stretched under their own table tonight, but if he had to be out, Gus was as good company as any. Actually, better than most he’d talked to today. At least Gus didn’t have any complaints he wanted to report to the acting sheriff.

Three days into his new role and Langley was eager to hand the lawman’s duties back to Branson. He’d never wanted to be deputized again, but he was the only available man with any kind of experience. He’d worked as deputy for almost a year right after he’d graduated from college and filled in from time to time since then.

But he had lost his taste for the work. Now he liked running the ranch, tending his cattle, researching the latest methods for producing the best beef in the most economical fashion.

But the Randolphs always stuck together, so he couldn’t very well turn down his brother’s request to fill in for him for two weeks while he honeymooned. Branson had his young deputy, Gordon, on the payroll, but Gordon claimed he wasn’t ready to take charge just yet. That left the job of acting sheriff to Langley.

The bell over the door tinkled, and Langley stretched his neck and looked around. Gus had been wrong when he’d said no one would be out in the storm. One more person had ventured out. A stranger. Drenched, but still attractive enough to make any red-blooded male take notice. He was no exception.

She raked a handful of wet hair from her face, tucking it behind her right ear before crossing her arms over her chest. The pose successfully hid the soft mounds of her breasts that the wet T-shirt had revealed. What she couldn’t hide were the tinges of purple and dark blue, remnants of bruises that covered her face and arms. Instinctively, Langley’s guard went up.

The woman stepped toward the counter. “Can I help you?” Gus asked. “You surely didn’t come out in this thunderstorm for a burger and fries.”

“No, I’m looking for the sheriff. I was told he might be able to help me. Do you know where I could find him?”

Trouble. Langley knew it the way a man knows his horse is about to buck or that the branding iron is not quite hot enough to do the job. He didn’t know how he knew it. He just did.

He slid from his stool. “I’m Langley Randolph,” he said, “the county sheriff—at least I am this week. What can I do for you?”

“I hate to ask on a night like this, but I’d appreciate a lift to the Running Deer Ranch.”

He studied the woman. Even soaked through to the skin, she had a sophistication about her. And an accent he didn’t recognize. “Do you have business at the Running Deer?”

She nodded. “I’m Danielle, Milton Maccabbe’s niece. I’m here to see him.”

Langley ran his hands deep into his front pockets, debating with himself on how he should tell the dripping stranger with a strange accent that the man she was planning to visit had died two weeks ago. “I’d be happy to give you a ride, but—”

“Good,” she broke in. “I’m anxious to get out there and I’m without transportation.”

“Then how did you get to Kelman? We’re a long walk from nowhere.”

“I came by bus.”

So that explained why she was soaking wet. Kelman didn’t have a regular bus station, but if there was someone to pick up or let off, the bus stopped at Phil Klinger’s feed store. But it was half past seven. The place would be locked up tight this time of night.

“The driver suggested I call the sheriff from the pay phone where he dropped me off, but it wasn’t working. I guess the storm knocked it out. I saw the sign for the café and took a chance it would be open.” She hugged her arms more tightly around her. “I didn’t expect to be lucky enough to walk right into the sheriff.”

“If Langley hadn’t been here, I’d have given you a ride,” Gus hastened to assure her. “We Texans don’t leave a woman on her own if we can help it.”

“I’ll drive you wherever you’d like to go,” Langley said. “But I’d like to eat that burger Gus is cooking before I take off in the storm again. You might like to do the same. Gus makes the best burger in south Texas.”

“The best burger in all of Texas,” Gus corrected.

The woman turned toward the sound of the sputtering meat, her eyes wide. But she shook her head and directed her gaze back at him. “I’m not hungry, but you go ahead. I’ll wait and eat something at the ranch.”

Of course, she expected to have dinner with her uncle. Which meant he couldn’t put off the inevitable. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Langley said, deciding the straight approach was the best.

“What kind of bad news?”

Langley swallowed hard and wished there was a way around what he had to say. But there wasn’t. “Milton Maccabbe died a couple of weeks ago.”

She lowered her head and directed her gaze to the toes of her muddy tennis shoes. “I knew he was sick,” she said. “I just hadn’t heard that he’d died.”

“In his sleep. The doctor said it was a peaceful way to go.”

“I’m glad. I just wish I’d been here.”

Her voice cracked on the words, but she didn’t cry. For the first time in a long time, Langley wished he was more like his brothers, wished that talking to strange women came easier to him. Instead, he was standing around like an awkward schoolboy, wondering if he should say something more or offer a shoulder to cry on.

Finally, she broke the silence. “Who’s staying at the ranch now to look after the cattle?”

“Joshua Kincaid’s hands are taking care of the place. Milton was foreman at Kincaid’s ranch before he retired and bought the Running Deer. But no one lives there. The place is deserted once the sun goes down.”

“Then I’d still appreciate a ride to the ranch, if you don’t mind.”

“It’s not the sort of place to visit at night,” Langley advised.

“I won’t be visiting. I’ll be moving in.”

Langley rocked back on his heels. His gaze lowered from her dripping hair to the wet clothes that clung to her body like a second skin and then back to her bruised face. “I’m not sure I heard you right,” he said, knowing that he had but hoping he was wrong.

“If Uncle Milton is dead, then the ranch is mine. He left it to me. I have it in writing.”

“Are you a rancher?”

“No, but I can learn.”

“Yep,” Gus interrupted, “and if you have any trouble, you can call on Langley. He lives practically in hollering range. If there’s anything about cows he don’t know, it hasn’t been discovered yet.”

She propped a foot on the boot rail of one of the stools and leaned against the counter. “It’s nice to know that expert advice will be so readily available.”

“I’ll be glad to help out if you have questions,” Langley said. “Any of the Randolphs will, but don’t put any stock in Gus’s claims. Every rancher around these parts has his own way of doing things, and we all think our way’s best.”

“Nonetheless, I appreciate the offer.” Danielle looked up at Langley, her dark eyes shadowed and mysterious, her lips parted, the flesh beneath the bruises raw. “But I’m sure I’ll be selling the place as soon as I can.”

Something in the way she spoke and moved reminded Langley of a frightened calf. It might just be the news of her uncle’s death, but he had the strange suspicion that it was something more than grief that strained her voice and haunted her ebony eyes. More like fear. After all, someone had recently branded her with the telltale signs of violence.

“You can call on me as a rancher or as a lawman,” he said. “We don’t cater to abuse or abusers in Kelman.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stepped closer and trailed a finger along the purple marks that ran the length of her arm. She trembled at his touch and then backed away. An unfamiliar sensation swept through Langley, an awareness that set his nerves on edge. A beautiful woman with dangerous secrets—one who was about to become his neighbor.

And suddenly, Langley knew exactly how it must feel to be caught standing in the middle of a stampede with no way to escape.

HER UNCLE WAS DEAD. The news hit hard, a blow that knocked the last smidgen of confidence right out of her. All her hopes had been tied up in finding the one man who might be able to give her back her life. Now those hopes had been dashed with a single sentence out of the sheriff’s mouth.

Danielle slid the wet backpack down her arms, then scooted into the booth across the table from Langley Randolph. She faked a smile and hoped the rugged cowboy couldn’t hear the grumbling of her stomach when the man called Gus set a plateful of crispy onion rings between them. The last meal she’d eaten had been the lumpy oatmeal and cold toast the hospital had served for breakfast yesterday. Since then, she’d made do with a couple of cartons of milk and the crackers she’d picked up when the bus had made its pit stops.

Still, the little money her teenage roommate at the hospital had lent her would disappear fast enough without wasting it on restaurant food. Especially after she’d already used half of the meager funds to buy a bus ticket, an inexpensive backpack and a few other necessities.

Her mouth watered. She turned and stared out at the storm, but it was no use. The aroma was like a magnet, pulling her gaze back to the golden-brown slices of battered onion.

Langley pushed the plate in front of her. “Have some,” he insisted. “I hate to eat alone. Besides, Gus is a very sensitive man. His feelings will be hurt if you don’t rave over his speciality of the house.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to try them.” She lifted one from the plate and slipped it into her mouth. She chewed it too fast, but once her stomach had food that close, it refused to hold out any longer.

A minute later, Gus placed two more plates in front of them, each holding an oversize cheeseburger with thick slices of tomato and crisp lettuce.

“I know you said you weren’t hungry,” he said, “but I had this cooked already. It’s on the house. Just eat what you want.”

So she hadn’t fooled anyone. Obviously, she wasn’t a good actress. She hoped that wasn’t what she’d done for a living before…before she’d almost wound up dead. Before her life had slipped away in a black cloud of desperation.

She forced her mind back to the present. “Thanks, Gus,” she replied, her fingers already closing around the sesame-seed bun. “If the burger is as good as the onion rings, I’ll be able to eat it even if I’m not hungry.”

“Good. You eat up. Keep Langley here company, but don’t let him bore you with talk about those cows of his.”

“I promise not to get bored.” She bit into the burger as Gus walked away. Her taste buds danced deliriously. After two weeks of hospital food and two days of starvation, the thick, juicy beef was like manna from heaven.

She felt Langley’s eyes on her while she ate and knew he was sizing her up, but even that wasn’t enough to squelch her enjoyment of the meal. With all the problems she had, any pleasure at all was a cause for celebration.

Langley didn’t say a word until she’d finished everything on her plate, but the second the last bite was swallowed, he propped his elbows on the table and leaned in close. “I’m kind of surprised to hear that Milton had a niece. I’d heard he didn’t have any family.”

She stared him down. “I guess you heard wrong.” His attitude annoyed her. More to the point, it made her nervous. As nervous as the badge on his shirt did. She’d had enough of arrogant lawmen over the past two weeks.

They’d interrogated her endlessly and then doubted her answers. They’d poked into her affairs and then questioned her integrity.

“Were you a friend of my uncle’s?” she asked, hoping to throw the focus of the conversation on something other than herself. Besides, she needed all the information she could get, and the sooner the better.

Langley leaned back in his chair. “I wouldn’t say your uncle and I were friends. More like acquaintances.”

“But you did know him?”

“We were neighbors. My family owns the Burning Pear Ranch, and it borders the Running Deer. We’re separated by a creek that’s dry about half the time and by miles of barbed wire.”

“So you live by the theory that good fences make good neighbors?”

“Absolutely. Especially in cattle country.”

The sheriff was smiling now, a nice open smile that curled his lips and touched his dusky gray eyes. Maybe she’d been too quick to judge. But then, she was in no position to trust anyone, especially a stranger who, like it or not, was probably going to know as much about her as she knew about herself before long.

Langley swirled the coffee in his white mug, then drank it down to the last drop before pushing the empty cup to the side. “Have you ever been to the Running Deer?”

She managed a smile, thankful the sheriff had asked one of the few questions that fitted her standard reply. “Not that I remember.” She wiped her mouth with her napkin, then placed it on the table. “But I’m anxious to see it. Can we get started now?”

He met her gaze but made no move to get up. “Are you planning on spending the night there?”

“Of course.” Something in his expression sent new waves of alarm careening through her senses. “There is a house, isn’t there?”

“Of sorts. It’s a little run-down and short on modern conveniences.”

“I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“As long as you don’t mind roughing it.”

Langley reached into his back pocket and pulled out a few bills. He tucked them under his plate, then finally stood, moving in a slow, languid manner that was strangely seductive. Or maybe it was the bronzed flesh beneath the sun-bleached hair or the rugged cast to his youthful face that generated the masculine appeal.

“I’ll drop you off and stay while you check out the condition of the place,” he proposed. “If you change your mind about wanting to stay out there, I’ll run you back into town to the motel.”

“I’m tough. I can handle a few nights without luxuries.” At least she hoped she was tough. If she wasn’t, life was about to become even more unpleasant than it already had been in the past couple of weeks. Because like it or not, the Running Deer was now home. The only one she had.

She joined Langley in saying goodbye to Gus and offered a genuine thank-you for her food, assuring him it was the best she’d eaten in a long time. It was nice to be totally honest for a change.

Langley held out his jacket and then slipped it over her shoulders when she accepted. The early November wind was cutting, but the downpour had slowed to a drizzle by the time they left the café and walked the few steps to Langley’s pickup truck. He opened the door and she climbed inside. She waited for the chills of apprehension to close around her heart as Langley slid behind the wheel and slammed his own door shut.

But for the first time in two weeks, her pulse didn’t race and her stomach didn’t tie itself into ratty knots at the prospect of being alone with a strange man. Maybe her psychological scars were starting to heal the way her physical ones had. Or maybe a stalwart cowboy lawman in a small Texas town far away from New Orleans didn’t unnerve her the way every man who’d entered her hospital room had.

Now all she had to worry about was what she was going to do on a ranch when all she knew about cows was that they gave milk or became steak. And all she knew about herself were the images that haunted her mind, like a video that played the same terrifying scene over and over again.

She shivered, suddenly all too aware that she was about to be alone on a ranch in the middle of nowhere with only the ever-running tape in her mind for company. It wouldn’t take long to find out just how tough she really was.

LANGLEY TURNED IN AT the Running Deer Ranch, surprised to find the gate unlatched and swung open. He got out of the truck and closed it behind them, suspicion running rampant in his usually trusting mind. Maybe it was the badge that had changed him, or maybe it was just that in trying to fill Branson’s shoes, he had adopted the same doubting-Thomas nature that had always ruled his older brother.

At any rate, the open gate wasn’t the only thing troubling him. He had serious doubts that the woman sitting beside him had told him the whole truth. She’d come by bus to claim a ranch she’d said her uncle had left her, only she didn’t even know the man had died. Her declared intentions were to stay at the ranch, but the only thing she carried that resembled luggage was the soaking wet backpack.

She’d also claimed she wasn’t hungry back at Gus’s, but he’d never seen a woman eat quite that fast or appear to enjoy her meal more. And she was nervous, constantly rubbing the back of her neck or wringing her hands. When she caught him looking at her, she’d stop and sit straight, staring out into the darkness.

He’d do some investigating in the morning, find out if the Running Deer had been turned over to her. Of course, first he’d have to find out her last name. She’d been stingy even in that department, changing the subject when he’d asked.

A few minutes later, he pulled to a stop in front of the cabin. It looked even worse in the dark than it did in the daylight, if that was possible. Most of the shutters were missing, part of the railing was off the narrow porch, and the edge of the bottom step had rotted away.

“This is it,” Langley said, turning the truck so that his headlights illuminated the front door. He adjusted the delay on the lights so they’d stay on until Danielle had time to maneuver the dilapidated stairs.

She stared at the cabin. “Milton lived here?”

“He did. Right up until the day he died. But then, your uncle didn’t seem to require much in the way of creature comforts. He liked to fish and he liked to raise cattle. Actually, the ranch buildings are in much better shape than his cabin.”

“That’s Uncle Milty for you.”

But in spite of her flippant reply, her step was hesitant as she climbed down from the truck. Langley studied her profile, the bruises on her cheeks and chin taking on an almost ghoulish appearance in the glow of the headlight beams.

He walked over and took her elbow, half-expecting her to pull away. She didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

“Looks like I’m home,” she said. “I appreciate your giving me a lift out here, but you don’t need to stay. I’m sure you have work to do.”

“I’ll go in with you and have a look around, make sure no wild animals have taken over the place since it’s been vacated.”

She whirled around. “What kind of wild animals?”

“I don’t know. Polecats. Coyotes. Rats.”

“You’re joking, right?”

A coyote bayed in the distance as if in answer to her question. She shuddered.

“Do you still want me to leave you on your own?” he asked.

She shook her head, and her hair tumbled over her face. Tangled and disheveled, it was beginning to dry, falling waywardly about her cheeks and giving her the appearance of an impish nymph.

She fished a brass key from the pocket of her jeans. “This should open the door.”

“I doubt it’s locked. You don’t get a lot of uninvited guests this far off the main road.”

He led her up the steps and turned the knob on the front door. It squeaked open as he expected. The expectations ended there, dissolved by the acid that gnawed at his stomach. A string of curses flew from his mouth as he assessed the damage.

The upholstery on the couch and an ancient recliner had been ripped to shreds, the stuffing scattered over the floor like clumps of yellow snow.

“I guess I spoke too soon,” Langley said, walking to the center of the room and turning slowly so that he could better digest the sick destruction. “But I doubt whoever vandalized this place would have been deterred by a lock on the door.”

Danielle took a deep breath and then walked past him.

He followed her into the kitchen and to more chaos. If a twister had picked up the house and turned it upside down, it probably wouldn’t have wreaked any worse havoc. The floor and counter were littered with broken glass and scattered pans and utensils, and a steady stream of ants marched through trails of sugar and streaks of syrup that painted the floor.

Bits of glass cracked and skidded under Langley’s boots as he circled the kitchen. They’d had vandals strike in Kelman before. Paint sprayed on the water tower, four-letter words carved in inappropriate places, fences cut.

But he couldn’t remember hearing about anything like this, and the sight of it ground in his gut the same way the glass cut and scratched into the linoleum beneath the thick soles of his boots.

He looked up as Danielle returned from a peek at the bedroom, her face ashen, her eyes wide. He laid a hand on her shaking shoulders. “I’m sorry you had to see this. I don’t know who’s behind it, but right now I’m having a hard time believing this was a group of kids out looking for excitement.”

She looked up at him, her large dark eyes haunted pools of fear. “No, this was done by someone who doesn’t want me here.”

“I’m sure this isn’t personal.”

“Take a look in the bedroom.” Her voice was hollow but steady.

Langley walked to the bedroom door. The mattress had been torn off the bed and ripped to shreds. The doors of a small wooden chest hung open, their contents scattered about the floor. And red paint dripped from a cracked mirror that hung over an unpainted dresser. The letters were distorted, but the message was clear.

Get out, Danielle, or die!

Langley strode back into the kitchen and stopped in front of the mystery guest. “I don’t want any games or double-talk. I’d like to know what the hell is going on. If you have a clue, and something tells me you do, now’s a good time to start talking.”

She unzipped the backpack, pulled out a folded piece of smudged paper and handed it to him without a word. He unfolded the letter and read it.

Danielle,

My days are numbered. The cancer is growing fast. The doctors want me to take a lot of pills and treatments, but I’m not doing it. I’ve lived my way. I’ll die my way.

I’ve made a career of making poor decisions. But my only real regret is that I never got to know Colette’s daughter. You are my only living relative, and I’m leaving Running Deer Ranch solely to you. I hope you choose to live on the ranch, but that decision will be yours. You may find Kelman boring after the life you’ve led.

Your uncle,

Milton Maccabbe

P.S. I’m enclosing the key. You know what to do with it. I’m sorry to draw you into this, but I see no other way.

Langley folded the letter and handed it back to her. “Exactly what was it that he hated to draw you into other than this vicious destruction?”

She rubbed the back of her neck, burying her long fingers in the tangle of thick black hair. “I don’t know.” He started to question her response, but she held her hand up to stop him. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not lying. I just don’t know.”

Only he was sure she knew more than she was saying, and whatever it might be was scaring her half to death. He could read the fear in her eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” He touched a hand to the small of her back. “This is no place to talk.”

“You can get out of here. I have no money and no place to go.”

Her voice broke on the words, and Langley’s protective side surfaced in a suffocating wave. He should maintain a professional distance from Danielle, but he wasn’t Branson and he wasn’t a sheriff. He was just a man who couldn’t bear to see a desperate woman fighting back tears.

He reached for her hands. They were as cold as ice. “You can come home with me for the night,” he said.

“You don’t know me. Why would you offer to take me home with you?”

He sensed the suspicion that seemed to shadow everything she said and did. “I have no ulterior motives if that’s what you’re thinking. My family will be there. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“So if I go with you for the night, you won’t expect anything from me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Anger flared in her dark eyes. “Then leave.”

“I don’t think so, Danielle. What I’ll expect from you is plain talk. We can do it here or at the Burning Pear, but I want answers. If you’re involved in something, you may as well tell me. I’ll find out anyway.”

“Good. Then you’ll accomplish more than the police have done so far.” She backed away from him. “I don’t know why I should trust you, Langley Randolph, but right now, I don’t have a lot of choices.”

“Does that mean you’re going to tell me the whole truth?”

“Yes, but let me warn you, it sounds like something straight out of a mystery novel. And if you look at me even once as if I’m lying or nuts, I’m through explaining. I’ve had far too many of those looks over the past two weeks.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal. Start talking.”