Читать книгу AK-Cowboy - Joanna Wayne - Страница 8

Julie watched the black car pull to a stop on the shoulder a few yards behind her. Paranoia surged again. The car could be the same one that she’d thought was following her earlier. Even the front grill looked familiar.

She looked back at the bulls. One was nudging the fence. Two others had stuck their heads over the top of the downed wire to taste some tall weedy stems. Probably building energy for their attack.

The car door opened and a man stepped out and onto a high, dry spot with no mud to smudge his spotless boots. He looked muscled, rock hard—and gorgeous. He also looked too much the cowboy to be one of the New Orleans thugs that she’d feared might still be looking for her.

Julie stared warily as he approached.

The cowboy tipped his hat and grinned, a kind of half smile that would have made her fall into immediate lust under ordinary conditions.

“Most people use the gate,” he teased.

“Now why didn’t I think of that?” After a quick look back at the dangerous livestock, she stared him down. “Are you following me?”

“No, but I would have if I’d known it was show-time.”

He was clearly fighting to keep from laughing.

“There’s nothing funny about my situation. If you were any kind of gentleman at all, you’d be running off the bulls instead of standing there making wisecracks.”

“Bulls?”

“Yes, bulls.” She pointed at the animals to make her point. “Can’t you see those horns?”

His smile took over his face. “They’re Texas longhorns. Two of them are steers. One’s a heifer. No bulls in sight.”

“Bulls, steers, what’s the difference?”

“Don’t let the steers hear you say that.” He walked over and herded the animals away from the fence. Then, picking up the downed post, he righted it and twisted it back into the hole it had been knocked out of. The muscles in his arms flexed impressively as he worked.

“That should keep the wild beasts at bay. Name’s Tyler,” the cowboy said, extending a hand to help her off the hood of the car.

“I’m Julie,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to check out the horned cattle. “How do you know the fence will hold?”

“I figure if it doesn’t, I can always get you to crack your whip a few times and protect us.”

The blush climbed to her cheek. She ignored his hand and slid off the front fender of the car on her own.

He walked around to study the back wheels and the hole she’d dug herself into while revving the engine.

She joined him, all too aware of the mud that was drying in mottled streaks from her knees to her toes. “I’ll need to call a tow truck.”

“Why bother? I suspect every rancher around here has a truck heavy enough to pull you from the ditch.”

“Does that include you?”

“No. All I have is the rented car you see. I’m on vacation.”

“Oh, so you’re only a fake cowboy.”

“You could say that. Where are you heading?”

“To Willow Creek Ranch.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’m going to see Troy Ledger,” she admitted. “Have you ever heard of him?”

“Isn’t he the man who went to prison for murdering his wife?”

“That’s the one.”

“In that case, why don’t I give you a lift there and you can get him to pull your car from the ditch?”

“I’m not sure he’ll be willing to help me, but I would appreciate the lift.”

“Why wouldn’t he help you?”

“We’ve never met, and he didn’t invite me.”

“Then by all means, I should give you a lift. I wouldn’t want to miss the surprise party.”

“Okay, but first I need to get my things from the car. I have material in there that I wouldn’t want to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Sounds intriguing.”

“It is, but it’s nothing you’ll want to get involved in.”

“Risky business?” he asked.

“It could turn out to be quite dangerous,” she said. That should keep him from making fun of her—and it was also true. “So you’ll just want to drop me off at Willow Creek Ranch and be on your way.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

TYLER FOLLOWED THE DIRECTIONS Julie gave him for driving to the ranch where he’d been heading all along. He considered telling her his last name, but decided the conversation would likely be far more interesting if she continued to think he was merely a vacationing stranger.

Not to mention that she hadn’t offered her last name and was hinting of mysterious secrets.

She was fascinating. The girl-next-door type, if you were lucky enough to have a neighbor with a to-die-for body. He’d never been.

But the body wasn’t nearly all she had going for her. There was the cute turned-up nose, full, enticing lips, hay-colored hair pulled into a ponytail that bounced with every move of her head. And not to be shortchanged was the endearing blush when she was the least bit embarrassed and the most expressive blue eyes he’d ever seen.

“How did you choose this part of Texas for a vacation?” she asked.

“I lived here, years ago.”

“Where do you live now?” she asked.

“Mostly in Afghanistan for the last four years. I’m in the army.”

“From what I hear on the news, it’s incredibly dangerous in Afghanistan now.”

“It’s no picnic in a field of bluebonnets,” he teased.

“Ha ha.”

“Sorry, but that was some scene back there.”

“Get over it. Are you back in the States for good?”

“Afraid not.” Tyler decided it was time for a few questions of his own. “Why didn’t you let Troy Ledger know you were coming?”

“I was afraid he wouldn’t see me since I want to question him about his wife’s death.”

“Can’t say that I’d blame him.”

“Yes, but actually, I’m even more interested in the murder of Muriel Frost. She was about the same age as Helene Ledger and murdered in a similar manner in a neighboring county just six months before Helene was killed.”

“Do you think Troy Ledger killed both women?”

“It’s possible, but judging from the way he’s been looking for Helene Ledger’s killer, my gut instinct is that he didn’t kill either one.”

“A jury convicted him,” Tyler reminded her, the way his aunt and grandparents had reminded him countless times over the years.

“Innocent men go to jail all the time.” She turned to face him, talking as much with her hands as her mouth. “You see the thing is, Troy Ledger was convicted almost entirely on circumstantial evidence. I mean, sure, Helene Ledger was shot with his gun, but anyone could have found the gun in the bedroom and then shot her with it.”

“Circumstantial evidence can still be accurate and anyone can claim to be looking for his wife’s murderer.”

“Yes, but Troy Ledger was a model citizen, at least he had been ever since marrying Helene. Before that, he was a bit of a maverick—drinking, partying and riding the local rodeo circuits. But that’s what youth is for.”

“Does that mean you’ve sown a few wild bales of hay?”

Julie struck a defiant pose. “I’ve been around.”

Tyler seriously doubted that. She was much too innocent looking. “Guess that’s where you learned the Indiana Jones routine,” he teased.

But the mood between them grew more serious as he made the turnoff to the ranch. “Why are you so interested in old murders?” Tyler asked. “You don’t look like a detective.”

“I’m an investigative reporter.”

Tyler let out a low whistle. “No wonder you don’t think Troy Ledger will welcome you with open arms.”

Tyler stopped at the entrance to the ranch and stared at the weathered, wooden sign above the old iron gate. Willow Creek Ranch.

Haunting memories attacked, bringing things to the forefront of his mind that he hadn’t thought of in years. The smell of chicken frying in the skillet atop the gas range. The family gathered at the big dining room table. His mother’s voice singing along with the radio.

The tears in his father’s eyes when Troy had been literally ripped from his arms on the night his father had been arrested. And that was pretty much the last time Troy had acted like a dad.

Tyler pushed the troubling images from his mind. Forget the past. In minutes, the present would become an arsenal of weapons all firing in his direction with no visible means of escape.

Tyler was home, yet even the hard, rocky ground of the war zone had never felt so alien.

JULIE CLOSED AND LATCHED the squeaky gate and then hopped back into the front seat beside Tyler. An unexpected rush of uneasiness churned in her stomach as they bumped along the hard dirt road. Either the ranch itself put off eerie vibes, or Julie was not nearly as undaunted by the prospect of coming face-to-face with Troy Ledger as she’d tried to convince herself.

“They say the Ledger ranch house is haunted,” she said.

Tyler continued to stare straight ahead without bothering to respond. She started to say more, but his demeanor had changed. His fingers wound tightly around the steering wheel and his neck and facial muscles were taut.

“If you don’t like the idea of visiting a convicted killer, you can just drop me off here and you can turn around and leave,” she said.

“Too late for that.”

His tone was brusque, but he seemed so lost in his own world that she wasn’t even sure the words were meant for her. Her feelings of anxiety swelled. Now not only was she on an isolated ranch with a convicted killer but with a stranger who demonstrated drastic mood changes.

He could have post-traumatic stress disorder. She’d heard that was common with military personnel just home from the battlefront.

Julie understood trauma. She’d lived through her share of it. A few short weeks ago, she’d fully expected to be sleeping with the fishes in Lake Pontchartrain. Surviving that had given her the courage to take on her current task.

She spotted the roofline of the Ledger house first, jutting over the tops of the low trees that surrounded it. The full house didn’t come into view until they rounded the last curve and pulled up the gravel drive.

The house where Helene Ledger had been murdered in cold blood in the middle of the day. Killed by three shots fired at close range when any one of them could have ended her life. The mother of five young boys, loved by everyone in the community, all but worshipped by her parents.

The hairs on the back of Julie’s neck stood on end as they stopped in front of the house. The claims that Helene’s ghost still haunted the place drew vivid images in her mind. She could all but see the woman in white standing at the window, waving for help, just as the locals described her.

Julie took a deep breath and opened her door. She was not a believer in ghosts. Even if they existed, she imagined dead people had better things to do than hang around tormenting people they’d probably never liked anyway or grieving those they’d loved and been loved by.

If people had seen anything at all here while Troy was in prison, it was likely shadows from the mulberry tree that grew next to the house or from the nearby cluster of squatty mesquites.

Before she could thank Tyler for the ride, he had opened his own door and was already sliding from beneath the wheel.

“You don’t have to stay,” she assured him.

“Actually, I do.”

“Suit yourself.” She walked in front of him, climbed the steps quickly and was about to ring the doorbell when heavy boots clomped through the wet grass to her left.

Troy Ledger rounded the side of the house and stopped a few feet from the freshly painted wooden steps. She knew it was him from photographs she’d seen, one taken as recently as a few months ago.

It had appeared along with pictures of this house in some paranormal magazine called Beyond the Grave. Julie had found the article while doing her research on Troy Ledger.

And here he was, a few feet from her. Tall. Thinning brown hair with touches of gray. Gaunt, with a jagged scar that ran down the right side of his face.

She started to speak, but Troy was staring at the cowboy who stood a few feet behind her.

“Tyler.” Troy’s gruff voice cracked on the name.

“Yeah. It’s me.”

The tension between the two men left no doubt that they were not strangers.

And once again, she had talked far too much.