Читать книгу Hot On His Trail - Kristin Eckhardt - Страница 14

CHAPTER FOUR

CALLEY COULDN’T believe her good luck. She’d found him. After following Katie Donovan’s directions to the Tupper ranch outside of Fort Sumner, she’d simply followed the trail of cow pies until she’d caught up with the cattle drive. Not exactly the latest in high-tech tracking techniques, but it had worked.

As she slowly approached the herd in her old ‘82 Cadillac, she saw four men on horses turn to stare at her. Not wanting to spook either the cattle or the cowboys, she stopped her car and got out to walk the rest of the way.

A man on horseback met her halfway. Her breathing hitched when she recognized him as Matt Radcliffe. Those dark eyes were even more powerful in person than they had been in his driver’s license photo.

He climbed down from his horse and walked toward her, a fantasy in faded blue denim. His square jaw was shaded with dark whiskers and his mouth was set in a firm line. When he finally reached her, he took off his cowboy hat. A gesture she found endearingly old-fashioned.

“Are you lost, ma’am?” His deep voice slid over her like smooth whiskey.

She swallowed. “Not if you’re Matt Radcliffe.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I am.”

She smiled. “Then today is your lucky day. My name is Calley Graham and I’m a private inves-tigator with Finders Keepers out of Trueblood, Texas. You’ve been named as a beneficiary in Violet Mitchum’s will.”

Something flickered in his deep-brown eyes. Surprise? Pleasure? Pain? Calley couldn’t begin to fathom the emotions swirling in those chocolate depths.

At last he said, “I think there must be some mistake.”

She heard the edge in his tone but barreled ahead anyway. “I assure you there’s no mistake. You’re to receive one of Violet’s rings and a letter she wrote to you shortly before her death.”

“I’m not interested in anything Violet Mitchum had to say,” he said brusquely. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”

Her jaw dropped as he turned around and headed back toward his horse. The man was walking away from a bequest. Possibly a very generous bequest, considering the size of the Mitchum estate.

“Wait a minute,” Calley called, hurrying after him. “I don’t think you understand.”

Matt had already mounted his horse, his cowboy hat now shading his eyes from her. “I understand perfectly, Miss Graham. It is Miss, isn’t it?”

Calley nodded. “Yes. I’ve never been married.” She wanted to kick herself as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He didn’t care about her personal life, he just wanted to know how to address her. At least she’d refrained from divulging the fact that she had only dated three men in her entire life.

And that she was still a virgin.

“Well, Miss Graham, I’m in the middle of a cattle drive at the moment. But even if I was free to take a trip to Pinto, I have absolutely no desire to go there. Or to take anything from the Mitchums.”

“But what about your inheritance? It could be worth a considerable amount of money.”

He hesitated for only a moment. “You can give my inheritance to a local charity or to the dog pound for all I care.” He tipped his hat to her. “Good day, Miss Graham.”

He rode off toward the herd, leaving her staring after him. She’d successfully tracked the man down, only to have him balk at the easy part of the job—bringing him back to Texas. Calley considered her options. She could return to Finders Keepers and inform Dylan and Lily that she’d failed. Or she could keep trying to convince Matt Radcliffe to change his mind.

It was the easiest decision she’d made in a very long time.

* * *

“THAT WOMAN IS still following us,” Arnie said, riding up beside Matt.

He turned around to see Calley Graham’s beat-up yellow Cadillac bouncing in the distance, easily visible by the plume of dust it left in its wake. At least she had the good sense to stay far enough behind them to keep from spooking the herd. Still, it was one more irritation in a day filled with irritations. They hadn’t even come close to reaching their daily mile quota. At this rate, he’d never make it to the Lazy R in four weeks.

With a muttered curse, Matt spurred his horse forward. “Ignore her,” he called back to Arnie. “She’ll get bored before too long and go away.”

Four hours later, Matt was still waiting for Calley to disappear. It surprised him that a woman with her delicate beauty had such tenacity. Just as it had surprised him when she’d announced her occupation. A model or a ballerina he could have believed. But a private investigator? Somehow it just didn’t fit.

Just like Violet Mitchum naming him in her will didn’t fit. He feared it was more out of spite than generosity. Especially when he considered his bequest. One of Violet’s rings. He knew exactly what ring it was, and how little she’d valued it.

His mind drifted back to a day twenty-two years ago, when he’d found Violet weeping after her neighbor had stopped by to show off her new mother’s ring. Violet and Charles had been unable to have children of their own, and that neighbor’s visit had been like vinegar poured on an open wound. So Matt, just ten years old, had hurried up to his bedroom and retrieved his latest prize from a gumball machine: a cheap, adjustable ring with shiny fake gems glued on top. He’d solemnly presented it to Violet, telling her she could pretend to be his mother. And she’d worn it every day.

Until the fire.

He closed his eyes, still able to smell the acrid odor of charred wood. The fire had been his fault. He’d hidden in a linen closet that day to sneak a smoke of one of Charles Mitchum’s big cigars. When one of the maids discovered him there, he’d made a run for it, leaving the smoldering cigar behind.

Later that night, a hysterical Violet had jerked the ring off her finger and thrown it at him, shrieking that she wasn’t his mother. Violet Mitchum had made her feelings for him perfectly clear that day, and he didn’t have any reason to believe those feelings had changed.

“Hey, Matt!”

He opened his eyes to see Cliff galloping toward him. The expression on his face didn’t bode well.

“What’s the problem?” Matt asked as Cliff reined his horse to a stop.

“It’s Bud.” Cliff tipped up his hat and wiped the sweat off his brow. “The chuck wagon lost a wheel about a mile back. Bud busted his wrist trying to repair it.”

“Damn.” Matt wheeled his horse around and rode toward the back of the herd. When he finally reached the lopsided chuck wagon, he saw the old cowboy seated on the ground, holding a wet cloth on his arm.

“What the hell happened?” Matt asked as he dismounted.

“Freak accident.” Bud winced as he lifted his forearm. “I guess my reflexes ain’t as good as they used to be. The axle on the wagon split as I was mounting a new wheel. Heard the bone crack and now it’s swelling up something awful.”

Matt nodded toward the half-empty whiskey bottle at Bud’s side. “I see you’ve been taking something for the pain.”

“There won’t be any supper for you boys tonight.” Bud lifted the bottle with his good hand and took a deep swig. “You’ll have to make do with the beef jerky and dried apples I’ve got stored in the trunk.”

“Don’t worry about us.” Matt walked to the back of the wagon, then knelt down to look at the broken axle. What he saw made his gut tighten. A neatly sawed fissure right above the splintered wooden beam. This hadn’t been any accident. Someone had deliberately sabotaged the chuck wagon.

“Have you met up with anyone unusual today?” Matt asked.

Bud shook his head, then leaned against the wagon. “Just that lady who’s been trailing us. But she’s kept her distance.”

Matt turned and looked at the Cadillac, now stopped about five hundred feet behind them. Calley Graham stepped out of the vehicle and began walking toward the chuck wagon. His gut told him she didn’t have anything to do with this mess. Not only would a woman of her stature have difficulty sawing her way through solid walnut, but she’d never had the opportunity. The chuck wagon had been closed up in one of the storage sheds on Tupper’s place until this morning. And Tupper was fanatical about keeping strangers out. He even had a twenty-four-hour guard at the front gate of his ranch.

So who did that leave? Marla had cursed him and the cattle drive only last night. Had she cajoled one of Tupper’s ranch hands into doing the dirty deed? Or had one of Hobbs’s men found a way to sabotage the chuck wagon without anyone noticing?

Matt still hadn’t figured out the answer by the time the Graham woman approached him.

“What happened?” she asked, looking first at the lopsided wagon, then at Bud.

“That’s just what I wanted to ask you, Miss Graham.”

“Please call me Calley,” she replied.

“Okay, Calley.” He removed his cowboy hat. “Since you’ve been stalking us for the last several hours, I was wondering if you happened to see anyone hovering around the back of the wagon.”

She shook her head. “It stopped three or four times, but the only person I saw was him.” She pointed to Bud, who was now sucking the last drops of whiskey out of the bottle.

“Are you sure about…” His voice trailed off as the sound of an automobile engine caught his attention. A pickup truck roared toward them, kicking dust and gravel behind its tires. Several grazing steers tensed, then turned as one and bolted.

Matt swore as he jumped on his horse, hollering to the cowboys ahead of him. Fortunately, they’d seen the commotion and had positioned themselves to prevent a stampede. When Matt was certain that a catastrophe had been avoided, he wheeled his horse around and rode up to the pickup truck.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The man who stepped out from behind the wheel didn’t reply. Instead, he asked a question of his own. “You Matt Radcliffe?”

“Who wants to know?”

“The name is Simms. Bill Simms.”

Matt saw Calley tense out of the corner of his eye. Simms wore a wrinkled blue suit and his thinning gray hair was parted just above his left ear. He had a spot of mustard on his striped tie and a weariness in his pale-gray eyes.

Matt looked from Simms to Calley. “You people seem to be under the mistaken impression that this trail ride is open to the public. I assure you that’s not the case. I have work to do and you’re both wasting my time.”

“I have a job to do, too,” Simms replied. “And that’s to bring you back with me to Texas.”

Matt shook his head. “Since you and Calley are so all fired anxious to see Texas, why don’t you go there together and leave me the hell alone.”

Simms glanced at her. “I take it you’re my competition?”

“That’s right,” she replied evenly, holding out her hand. “I’m Calley Graham.”

Simms shook it, his eyes widening. “Graham? You any relation to Walt Graham?”

She stepped back, her expression suddenly wary. “He’s my father.”

“I used to work with Walt. He was a hell of an investigator.” Simms smiled. “I take it you’re following in the old man’s footsteps?”

She nodded. “I’m trying, but it seems Mr. Radcliffe isn’t interested in his inheritance.”

A loud snore reverberated from Bud. It reminded Matt that he had more serious problems than two cattle drive crashers. Cowboys who needed to be fed, for one. And with Bud out of commission, this drive might end before it even began.

Unless he could find a replacement.

Matt studied Bill Simms, sizing him up. The man was about Bud’s age, maybe a few years younger. The paunch and double chin told him Simms hadn’t endured any strenuous physical activity in a long while. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. And Matt was willing to settle for just about anyone if it meant winning this race.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Matt said to Simms over the rumble of Bud’s snores. “You take over as the camp cook and chuck wagon driver until the end of the trail drive, and I’ll return to Texas with you when it’s over.”

Simms snorted. “I can’t even boil water.”

“So you’ll learn as you go,” Matt replied, knowing the cowboys might balk at that arrangement. But what choice did he have? They’d hired on knowing they’d be roughing it for the next few weeks. Only now it looked as if their stomachs would be roughing it, too.

“Wait a minute,” Calley said, her blue eyes wide. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s business,” Matt told her in a clipped tone, ignoring the twinge in his gut. He had more to think about than hurting a stranger’s feelings. His ranch was waiting for him. All he had to do was earn it. “Well? Do we have a deal?”

Simms shook his head. “I’m not the outdoor type. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll change your mind about the inheritance. Never known a man yet to turn free money down.” He pulled a small business card out of his shirt pocket. “Give me a call when you’re ready to meet with the lawyers.”

When Matt refused to take the card, Simms shrugged, then walked over to Jericho and tucked it in the saddle. With a backward wave of his hand, he sauntered off toward his pickup truck.

“Hold on,” Matt called after him.

Simms turned. “Change your mind already?”

“I have an injured man here,” Matt replied. “Since you’re headed back to civilization, can you take him to the nearest hospital?”

Simms glanced down at Bud. “He’s drunk.”

“He’s in a lot of pain.” Matt walked over to the old cowboy and gently shook him. “Time to wake up.”

“Yeah…what do you want?” Bud’s eyelids fluttered, then he winced. “Damn! My arm hurts like hell.”

Matt carefully hefted Bud to his feet. “This man’s going to take you to see a doctor.”

Simms reached out to steady the inebriated cowboy, then looped Bud’s good arm around his shoulder and headed for his truck. But not before giving Calley a speculative backward glance. “Take care, Miss Graham.”

Calley didn’t say anything until Simms had loaded Bud into the truck and driven off. Then she turned to Matt. “I’ll do it.”

He looked at her. “Do what?”

“I’ll drive the chuck wagon. And cook the meals. And anything else you need me to do.”

He smiled in spite of himself. “Forget it.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why? You just offered the job to Bill Simms.”

“That’s because I thought he might be able to handle it.” “So can I!” She followed him, refusing to let the subject drop. “I’m an excellent cook.”

“Cooking food on the trail isn’t the same as puttering around in a kitchen. We don’t have electric stoves or microwave ovens or dishwashers. No refrigeration, either.”

“Good. I like challenges.”

His smile widened. He had to give her credit. She was almost as stubborn as he was. “You might like challenges, but you won’t like those mules that pull the chuck wagon. They’ll need to be fed and watered every day. And they’ll stop when you want them to go and go when you want them to stop.”

“My grandpa raised mules on his farm,” she countered. “I’ve always been good with animals.”

He turned around to face her. “The answer is no.”

“That’s not fair.” She took a deep breath. “At least give me a chance to prove myself. And if I can do the job for the duration of the cattle drive, then you’ll come back to Texas with me. Just like you offered to do with Simms.”

Matt considered her proposal. More than likely she wouldn’t last one day, much less the month it was going to take them to reach the Lazy R. Calley Graham had no idea what she was volunteering for. Heat and dust and flies. Not to mention sleeping on a hard wagon bed every night and washing in an icy stream.

Still, her offer might buy him a little time to figure out another solution to this unexpected problem. It would take him and the boys the rest of the day to round up the herd and rig up a new axle for the chuck wagon. A decent supper would be a just reward for their first hard day on the trail.

“If I agree,” he began, noting the spark of hope that lit her blue eyes, “you’ll have to follow through with your part of the bargain. All the meals will be your responsibility, as well as driving the wagon and caring for the mules. No one else will have time to help you out.”

“I can do it,” she vowed.

He shook his head, certain he was making a mistake. But what choice did he have at this point? “You’ll have to leave your car here.”

“Not a problem,” she said evenly.

His eyes narrowed. “Why is this so important to you?”

Calley hesitated for a whisper of a second. “I believe in living up to my responsibilities. I took on the job of bringing you back to Texas and I intend to see it through—no matter what I have to do.”

Matt couldn’t argue with that. “We’ll be camping here tonight. I guess you can use Bud’s supplies since he won’t be needing them now. His bedroll is inside the wagon.”

She nodded. “All right. But I just want to make sure we’re clear. If I can do the job until the trail drive is over, you’ll let me take you back to Texas for Violet Mitchum’s memorial service.”

“I give you my word, Miss Graham,” he said solemnly. He didn’t add that she’d never be able to tough it out. Or that he’d rather walk barefoot through a thick field of cockleburs than return to the Mitchum house again.

She held out her hand. “Shall we shake on it?”

He took her hand in his, surprised at the softness and warmth of her skin. Her small fingers seemed fragile in his grasp, although her grip was surprisingly strong. Even more surprising was the virile reaction he had to her touch. Matt realized too late that he might have made a huge mistake.

“One more thing,” he said, seeking a reason to keep holding her hand. He didn’t like the need she stirred in him. Or the way her blue eyes made him want to move closer. “If you can’t hack it, then you walk away. I don’t want you getting hurt or putting yourself in danger because you’re in over your head.”

She gazed up at him with an enigmatic gleam in her blue eyes. “There’s one thing you should know about me, Mr. Radcliffe. I’ve dedicated my life to living dangerously.”