Читать книгу The Baby Pursuit - Laurie Paige - Страница 13

“You’re looking good,” Vanessa said.

“Huh.”

She hid a grin. Dev had arrived at the ranch dressed in jeans, obviously new cowboy boots—the correct kind, not the ones drugstore cowboys wore—and proper headgear, which for summer was a white straw hat. It had a blue band and no eagle feathers, thank goodness.

He was a natural athlete and had adapted his movements to those of his horse, Rusty, quicker than most city slickers. He looked great on the big roan gelding, which was her favorite mount because of his smooth gait. She was riding a gray gelding who was alert and good-natured.

After a weekend of easy riding and some practice at jumping in the ring, on Monday she declared him ready for the trail along the creek up to her secret cave. As usual, that morning he had talked privately with her father, then questioned several ranch hands before telling her he was ready for their ride. If he was saddle sore, he didn’t complain, but rode with the stoic nature she had learned to expect from him.

She sighed. Those first moments of meeting, the attraction that had nearly ended in a compassionate kiss between them, might never have been. He kept his distance. She felt thwarted and discouraged on all fronts.

Turning her thoughts to the task at hand, she led the way through the stand of oaks and around the alders that lined the small, rushing creek. Instead of soothing her as a ride usually did, she became nostalgic.

“My twin and I hid out here overnight one time. Dad was going to belt us for riding a half-broke stallion that Dallas said we were too chicken to ride. But Cruz said it was safe, so we did it.”

“You trusted him?”

She twisted around in the saddle to face him. “Yes. I told you he would never harm us.”

“Your unfailing feminine intuition, I assume?”

“Yes.” She stared him straight in the eye, willing him to acknowledge the feelings between them.

He gazed at her without blinking.

She turned toward the trail, annoyed with him. “You won’t always deny it.”

“Yes, I will. Because there’s nothing there.”

“How do you know what I’m talking about if there’s nothing there?”

“Don’t try your psychobabble on me.”

She kicked the gelding into a canter. This part of the trail sloped gradually upward in a series of rolling dips and rises. The gray jumped each low place easily. She knew the roan would follow their lead. She didn’t pull up until the path ended at the rocky ledge leading sharply upward.

Finally she stopped in a small hammock surrounded by wild pecan trees and shrub oak. She and Victoria had sprayed the poison oak out each year so that the area was safe for them to play. Dismounting, she dropped the reins to the ground, leaving the horse ground-hitched.

Dev did the same.

“We walk from here.”

“Which way?”

“Up.”

He took the lead now, his gaze intent on the ground. He bent and studied the nearly overgrown trail and every twig and blade of grass. When they arrived at the overhang of limestone that formed the secret hideaway, he heaved a disappointed breath.

“Nothing,” he said. “No one’s been up here since the last rain. That was four weeks ago.”

“After the kidnapping.”

“Yeah. I thought the kidnapper might have holed up close by, maybe left a clue. But no such luck.”

He searched the cave, looking over the tin tea set she and Victoria had brought up years ago. There was a tripod for cooking over a fire, an iron kettle, a skillet and a trivet.

“Who used this?” he asked.

“Victoria and I, mostly. My brothers did, too, before they discovered girls and dating.”

Dev walked out from under the overhang and stood looking down the three-story drop into the ravine, where the creek ran swift and cold over the limestone boulders.

“A long ways to go for water,” he remarked.

“Not really. Come on, I’ll show you.”

She walked around the ledge that narrowed as it curved past the shallow cavern. Up the trail a few feet was a water seep. She removed a pan hanging on a nail pounded into a pine and placed it so it would catch the drip from the trickle of water. The drops made a friendly patter against the aluminum until the water was deep enough to cover the bottom of the pan.

“All the comforts of home,” she pointed out. “Are you ready for lunch?”

He nodded, his eyes searching the area above the trail.

She returned to the horses and removed food from the saddlebag on her mount. She handed Dev the chilled container of lemonade when he joined her. Back in front of the cave, she divided the food she had prepared for their picnic when he had requested the ride up the ridge.

“How many times have you done this?” he asked.

She weighed the question. “Jealous?”

A flush lit his lean cheeks. “Hardly.”

“You are,” she said softly, wishing he would admit it.

He snorted. She laughed when one of the horses did the same as if mimicking him.

They ate the sandwiches made from roast beef, sliced homemade pickles and spicy mustard, then sipped the lemonade from tin cups taken from a rocky shelf in hers and Victoria’s childhood pantry.

Dev was aware of the quiet that surrounded them. They were alone for all practical purposes, and it bothered the hell out of him. He should have insisted that Cruz Perez or one of the hands show him around the ranch. Being with the daughter was too disturbing for his comfort.

Her gaze stirred something inside him—a place where hope lingered, foolishly believing the promises that life dangled in front of a person. But he knew about promises, knew that, like dreams, they were never fulfilled. He had no desire to be around to see the glow die when life slapped her down one time too many. Then she would know, too.

He concentrated on the details of the case. He had a good idea where everyone had been located and who they’d been with at the moment of the kidnapping. He knew which people correctly remembered events and those who had been mistaken…or had lied. There were loose ends, of course. Not everyone was accounted for by someone else.

Maria Cassidy, for one. However, Vanessa had seen her in the courtyard at the probable time of the kidnapping.

Lily Cassidy, Maria’s mother and the fiancée of Ryan Fortune, said she had spoken to Rosita Perez about serving the champagne for the toast, but Rosita thought that was before the christening, not afterward.

Cruz Perez was also unaccounted for.

The horse trainer had said he’d gone to the stable to check on a mare having difficulty foaling. Clint Lockhart, brother-in-law to Ryan Fortune through the rancher’s first wife, Janine, insisted he’d been outside at the time and hadn’t seen Perez at the stable.

Lockhart had a cowboy who could vouch for him, but the man had finished his temporary job the day before the christening and had been at the bunkhouse only an hour or so to pack up his belongings the day of the kidnapping. Lockhart didn’t know where the cowhand was now. Perez said he hadn’t seen Lockhart when he’d crossed the road to the stable.

One of them was lying, Dev was sure. Or their timing was off. The local cops hadn’t been able to locate the missing cowhand to verify Lockhart’s story.

He was at a stalemate.

“Have you found any clues?”

Dev shook his head, then went back to staring out over the land. In the vast pastures that spread beyond the creek at the foot of the ledge to the horizon, he could see hundreds of cattle grazing peacefully.

Fifty thousand head. Five thousand horses. Anywhere from fifty to a hundred cowboys, according to the season. But most of them were scattered around the half-million acre ranch, too far away to have been involved in the family’s affairs.

When she laid a hand on his thigh, he nearly jumped out of his skin as lightning sizzled through his veins. He pushed her hand away.

“I’ve written a profile of the kidnapping,” she said.

She pulled a slip of paper from her breast pocket and handed it to him. It was warm from her body and burned his fingers with the magic fire that came only from her. He forced himself to read her notes.

Well-planned and executed, indicating insider information.

Two people, possibly three or four, involved.

Leader is crafty and willing to play games for bigger stakes. Controls accomplices who are probably younger and willing to take more risks.

Someone used to children is taking care of baby and may have called Matthew. This could be their weak link.

Her handwriting was neat with evenly looped letters, but the impatience was revealed in the flying slashes that crossed the t’s and the dots that were near the i’s but didn’t line up with them. There was strength and decisiveness evident in the bold strokes, a certain confidence that could edge over into family pride—or perhaps snobbishness, although he admitted that wasn’t really true of her—in the tall capital letters, a gentleness as well as an unexpected vulnerability in the rounded strokes. He would have known it was her handwriting without being told.

And that her background was privileged, that she was used to getting her own way and that she wasn’t for him, no matter what wild imaginings occupied his dreams. He sighed and finished off the lemonade in the battered tin cup.

“Let’s go,” he said, and stood.

She took the cups and rinsed them out in the pan of water from the seep, then replaced them on the rocky shelf. Every move she made was poised and graceful. If he didn’t watch it, he would stare at her, spellbound when he was supposed to be concentrating on finding clues. Vanessa Fortune wasn’t good for his investigative abilities.

She turned and looked at him at that moment. Her eyes were tear-bright. “If we don’t find him, Baby Bryan will never know the ranch or how to ride. He’ll never know his family… He may never grow to manhood or know his first kiss…” She shook her head helplessly.

“We’ll find him.”

“How?”

He looked away from her despair. “We start with everyone who had an opportunity. Then we assign motives, no matter how bizarre, then we see who fits the picture.”

“We look for a pattern.”

He realized she’d had enough psychology to grasp his thinking. “Yes. No one does anything out of the blue, as most people seem to think. There are plenty of warnings. In this case, the puzzle pieces are there. It’s up to us to find them and put them together.”

“So we start with opportunity and motive.”

Her eyes brightened with determination once more. Something in him that he hadn’t known existed, that had been tight and concerned each time he saw her distress, suddenly breathed easier. He pulled back from the emotional brink. “I start. You stay out of my way.”

This time he ignored the way her expressive eyes darkened with hurt. He had a kidnapping and enough Fortunes to contend with to last a lifetime. He didn’t need her.

Vanessa joined her father and Lily in the courtyard at six o’clock. She poured a cool glass of champagne and took a seat across from Lily. “How are things going for you?”

“Fine,” her stepmother-to-be replied with a kind smile. “You look tired. Your father said there’s nothing new in the case. It must be doubly discouraging for you.”

Her father sat beside Lily on the swing and dropped an arm around her shoulders. Their glance at each other was filled with love and mutual concern. Vanessa felt tears well near the surface. She blinked them back with an effort and took a sip.

“Is Maria living with you?” Vanessa asked. “I meant to ask her out to visit, but with the investigation…” She gestured vaguely to indicate a lack of time. Or interest, she admitted. She had no time for idle social visits. Or Lily’s daughter. She had never been close to Maria.

Lily looked troubled. “No, she’s rented a trailer and is looking for a job, she says. I really haven’t seen much of her since her return. She doesn’t seem to want company.”

“We can’t control our children’s lives,” Ryan murmured reassuringly to his fiancée.

She sighed and patted his hand that rested on her shoulder. “I know, but parents always worry, don’t they?”

“Yes.”

Vanessa saw her father’s concern reflected in his eyes. She wondered if he was thinking of Matthew and Claudia. The tension between them was thicker than cream. She would have thought the tragedy would draw them closer, but she knew that most parents who lost a child ended up separated if not divorced.

Her thoughts drifting, she gazed at the sunset sky above the hacienda roof. She wanted several children. At least four.

At that moment Dev appeared at the great room door with Rosita, who indicated the family gathering under the vine-covered trellis. Her father stood.

“Come join us,” he called. “What can I get you?”

“Iced tea would be fine.” Dev crossed the flagstones and greeted Lily, then Vanessa, in his courteous manner.

He was dressed in the FBI uniform of dark suit, white shirt and conservative tie. She hadn’t seen him in hours, not since their excursion by horseback at midday.

Her father handed him the glass of tea.

“Thank you, sir.” He stood until the older man was seated, then took a chair to her left, a careful distance between them. He was so damn polite she wanted to scream.

“You have news to report?” her father asked.

“Not anything significant. The cowboy who was here but left the day of the kidnapping hasn’t been found. No trace of him on the rodeo circuit, which he said he was going to follow, has shown up, not under the name he used here, at any rate. Mr. Perez said the man hasn’t done seasonal work here before. He didn’t know who had recommended the cowboy. I wondered if you knew.”

She watched Dev as her father explained that the new guy had been sent by another hand who usually worked for them during spring count and the fall selloff, but who couldn’t make it that year. As usual, Dev’s face was impassive while her father recounted the facts.

Finished, her father settled back in the swing and dropped his arm around Lily’s shoulders again. The two were always close, she noted, touching each other, looking to each other for agreement when a decision had to be made. It was very endearing. She found she was jealous.

She wanted Dev to acknowledge their attraction. More than that, she wanted him to accept it and to be glad. She wanted the excitement of kisses and intimate glances and sweet caresses. She gazed moodily at Dev. Her dark knight.

He looked at her, making her realize she was staring. She quickly took a sip of her drink and pretended she hadn’t seen his quelling glance or detected his obvious disapproval of her.

“So what happens now?” her father asked.

“I wondered if you would be willing to hire someone recommended by Waterman, a security expert named Quinn McCoy, to follow the leads on this cowboy? I’d like to find him,” Dev said.

“You think he had something to do with the kidnapping?”

“I don’t know. I could follow up on it myself, but I’d rather stay close. In case we get another call or letter.”

Vanessa listened as her father agreed to hire an investigator to pursue the missing cowboy. When Matthew and Claudia arrived, both looking tired, discouraged, and hardly speaking, she felt her spirits dip lower.

“I thought I would take up the offer of a room out here. I would like to be closer to the ranch for a while,” Dev continued after greetings had been exchanged with the couple and they were seated. “I, uh, could stay in the bunkhouse.”

“Isn’t your room satisfactory?” Mr. Fortune asked.

“Well, yes, but—”

“Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here. Are you available to have dinner with us tonight? It’s only the family.”

Vanessa was surprised when Devin agreed. She wondered why he felt the need to stay on the ranch. The answer came to her after she went to her room later that night.

To keep a closer eye on the family.

She watched from her bedroom while he walked around the inner courtyard before driving off toward town to get his clothing. Her heart beat hard at the thought of his sleeping in the room next to hers.

“Don’t, ” she said softly to the errant organ. Getting ready for bed, she recalled an old song, something about knowing a heartache when she saw one.

“I believe Vanessa and the FBI agent are interested in each other,” Lily said when she and Ryan were alone in the swing under the trellis with the sweet-smelling vine growing over it.

“Are you serious?”

“Very, darling.” She touched his cheek. “A woman in love is attuned to these things.”

He caught her hand and planted a kiss in the palm. “I’m oblivious to everything but you. I’ve missed you this week.”

“I had things to do. I was worried about Maria. I still am, but she doesn’t want to talk about her future, at least not to me.”

“Kids. They’ll drive you crazy if you let them. Did you feel the tension between Matthew and Claudia?”

“This is so hard on them. They need each other more than ever, but there are problems between them that aren’t resolved.” She hesitated. “There are so many things that can tear people apart… Maria thinks you’re stringing me along. That we won’t marry.”

“Then she’s dead wrong. I promise you this—we’ll marry as soon as I’m free to do so.”

She sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, believing him implicitly. “I do love you.”

“And I you. I’ll never let you go again, so make up your mind to spend the rest of your life with me.” He turned her face to his and gave her a hard kiss of assurance.

She closed her eyes and tried to think only of the moment. But reality always intruded. “Sometimes I’m afraid—”

“Don’t,” he ordered gently, fiercely. “I’ll be free to marry you soon if I have to strangle Sophia myself.”

She shuddered and shook her head. “Be careful of what you say. Words can come back to haunt a person.” From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a movement. “Who is it?” she asked.

No one answered.

“What is it, love?”

“I thought I saw someone, but I guess it was only shadows. The wind has come up and the tree branches are moving around.”

“It’s time to go in.” He pulled her to her feet. “I need you in my arms tonight. I’m beginning to get discouraged about my grandson. I thought we would have him back by now. Rosita tells me there are strange things afoot, but she doesn’t know who is involved.”

“I didn’t realize you were a superstitious person,” she teased, bringing them back to a lighter note.

“I’ve known Rosita too long to discount any premonitions she might have. She’s been right in the past.”

“I know. She once told me a snake has a forked tongue so it could tell two different tales at the same time. I should have listened to her. I let…others drive us apart.”

He led her into the house and to his suite. “It doesn’t matter now that we’ve found each other again. We have the future. Forget the past.”

The sadness of past mistakes rose in her, of loving this man and leaving him because of her own stupidity, of listening to the lies of his brother, Cameron, instead of her own heart. She sighed deeply, recalling the pain of being young and in love and terribly unsure of that love. “If only we could.”

“We can. We will. I lost you once. I won’t let it happen again. I mean that, darling.”

She looked away, unable to face the confidence in his eyes, the love reflected there. So much had happened during the years they were apart, things she would have to tell him about…someday. But not tonight. Tonight was for them. Sometimes she felt she had only the moment, that the next one would be snatched from her.

Perhaps she should ask Rosita what she could see in her future.