Читать книгу The Rancher and the Runaway Bride - Сьюзен Мэллери - Страница 9

“Chow’s on,” Randi called as she set down the cat food dishes. Unlike Tex, she could only carry two bowls at a time, and she had to hurry back into the kitchen for another set. In a matter of minutes, all the cats were eating. Princess had started her dinner, as well.

Randi settled on the porch steps and breathed a sigh of contentment. It was late afternoon, and a rainstorm had blown through earlier, dropping the temperature to the low seventies. The ground was damp and the horses would be muddy, but it was a small price to pay for relief from the heat.

Princess finished eating and came over to get her nightly attention. They were all settling into a routine. Even though feeding the cats wasn’t one of her responsibilities, Randi had taken over the chore from Tex. When the older man had protested, she’d explained that she liked spending time with the animals. She was starting to learn the different personalities of the cats and even to name them, although Tex had warned her not to let Brady know she was making pets of them. The rancher tolerated the cats, but he didn’t actually like them.

She rubbed Princess’s ears and smiled. “Brady talks tough,” she said aloud to the dog, “but I think he’s faking it. He likes you and your herd of kitties, doesn’t he?” Princess thumped her tail against the wooden porch.

The pregnant tabby finished her meal and jumped up onto the porch. She settled next to Princess and began licking her front right paw. When it was clean, she began the intricate process of grooming her face.

“How are you feeling, Pokey?” Randi asked. “If that belly of yours gets much lower, it’s going to drag against the dirt.”

Pokey ignored her criticism and concentrated on the task at hand. The cat worked in a rhythmic, circular motion, licking her paw, then swiping it across the side of her face, then licking the paw again. First she cleaned her muzzle, then her cheeks, the area around her eyes, her forehead and finally behind her ears.

Randi watched, amazed at the patience and thoroughness involved. “See that,” she said, pointing to the cat. “If you learned to do that, Princess, you wouldn’t have to get a bath every couple of weeks. You’re a great dog, but I have to tell you, you smell.”

Princess grinned her doggy grin, obviously unconcerned about her odor problem. Peter, the eleven-week-old black kitten, climbed up the stairs and into Randi’s lap. Once there, he purred loudly and stared at her with his big yellow eyes. When she didn’t move to pet him right away, he butted her stomach with his head.

“Impatient little devil, aren’t you,” she said, scratching him behind his ears. The purring rose in volume as tiny paws kneaded her belly and incredibly sharp claws poked through denim.

She endured the slight pain. In a few minutes Peter would sink down onto her lap and doze off. In this time before dinner, she liked to enjoy the quiet of just her and the animals. Maybe it was because she’d never had a pet as a child. Her mother wouldn’t have allowed one in the house. After all, a wild creature couldn’t be trusted around expensive rugs and priceless antiques. It had been hard enough to control two children. Randi grimaced. Who was she kidding? Noah hadn’t been the problem; she had.

One of her earliest clear memories was of standing next to a broken vase, crying. Her mother had been screaming at her. Not only because of the value of the destroyed piece, but because Randi had cut herself and was dripping blood on the rug. She remembered holding out her hand, trying to show her mother that she was still bleeding, that the cut hurt. Her mother had shoved her away and told her to drip over the hardwood floor. Eventually Noah had found her sobbing in her room and had taken the time to bandage her small wound.

Randi pushed that memory away. She didn’t want to think about her mother or Grand Springs. For the first time in a long time, life was good. She’d put in a hard day’s work, she could smell Tex’s delicious cooking, and Peter’s tiny, trusting kitten body warmed her.

Footsteps coming around the bunkhouse broke the solitude. Princess turned toward the sound. Peter raised his head to watch the newcomer.

Randi found herself leaning forward, her heart suddenly thudding louder in her chest. Anticipation surged through her. You’re being a fool, she told herself. It didn’t help.

But the man rounding the corner of the bunkhouse wasn’t her boss. Instead, Ty stepped into view. Randi told herself she was silly. What did it matter if Brady sought out her company or not? But the logic didn’t ease the pinch of disappointment.

The tall, dark-haired cowboy paused at the bottom of the steps and leaned against the railing.

“‘Evening,” he said. With his hat pulled low, it was impossible to see his eyes. Not that it would have mattered if she could. She’d seen Ty enough in the dining room to know that he kept his expression unreadable, his feelings hidden.

Technically he was better-looking than Brady. There was something about him that should have called to her. No doubt when he went to town, the ladies lined up for miles. Maybe it was the air of danger he wore like a familiar coat. Maybe it was the hint of sadness in his straight mouth. Whatever the appeal, while she could intellectually admit he was as handsome as any media heartthrob, he didn’t do it for her. Her life was messed up enough without dealing with a mysterious stranger.

Brady, on the other hand, made her feel comfortable. With him around, she could relax enough to enjoy life. He was the kind of man who made women smile and feel special.

“The last groom preferred working with larger four-legged critters,” Ty said, jerking his head toward the cat on her lap.

“I like them in all sizes,” she said.

“Me, too.” As if to confirm his words, Percival, one of the larger male cats, strolled over to Ty and rubbed against his calves. Ty bent down and picked up the cat, holding him in his arms and stroking him.

Randi stared. “I can’t believe that. I tried to touch him a couple of days ago and he spit at me.”

“This old cat and I understand each other.” Ty’s slow movements made Percival purr loudly.

Interesting, Randi thought. Who was this man with his unreadable eyes and a way with cats? What was his story? She returned her attention to the kitten on her lap and reminded herself to mind her own business. Out here everyone had a story, even Brady. Everyone had secrets. If she wanted to keep hers, she’d better not snoop into anyone else’s.

“We’re two of a kind,” Ty continued.

She realized the cowboy was right. Princess might rule the cats, but Percival staked out his own territory and he defended it with teeth and claws. Ty was similar, maintaining a physical distance from the other men. He moved in a way that left no doubt he would fight for what was his. Controlled danger. Something she was trying to avoid in her life.

“Evening, R-Rita.”

She glanced up to see Ziggy and Quinn approaching. “Hi, guys. How was your day?”

“Not bad.” Quinn nodded at Ty, then reached down and patted one of the cats. Randi noticed that he kept his left hand tucked in the front pocket of his jeans. She’d watched him at the table and had realized he could barely use his hand or arm. Yet his physical limitations didn’t seem to interfere with his ability to get his work done. Brady often mentioned how well Quinn performed. But how many employers would have given Quinn a chance to prove himself in the first place?

“This one looks ready to pop,” Quinn said, reaching over to pet Pokey.

“Don’t tell Brady,” Randi said quickly. “The last thing he wants to know about is more cats.”

“He’s all talk.” Ziggy managed the short sentence without stuttering.

“Maybe, but I’ve been thinking of trying to find homes for some of them.” Randi stroked the kitten on her lap. “They’re certainly well-trained animals.”

Conversation continued as they waited for Tex to ring the dinner bell. Randi participated, but part of her attention focused elsewhere as she strained to hear another set of footsteps…those belonging to a man she had no business thinking about.

When the bell rang, Princess barked twice and the cats stood up. They began their evening journey back to the barn, where they would settle for the night.

Randi walked around to the front entrance to the dining room. When she crossed the threshold, she found Brady already inside. How long had he been there? Why hadn’t he joined the other men and come to see her and the cats?

Don’t even think about that, she ordered herself as she took one of the empty chairs halfway down the table. Ziggy immediately sat next to her and she gave him an absentminded smile.

Brady was just her boss. Just a guy who had hired her. He wasn’t special, and even if he was, he wasn’t for her. In a few weeks, when she’d figured out what she was going to do with her life, she was moving on. Until then, she would do a good job, collect her pay at the end of the week and stay out of trouble.

Despite that excellent advice, as Tex brought out the food, Randi found her gaze straying again and again to the far end of the table.

The men all showered after they finished their work, but none of their still-damp hair or fresh shaven faces affected her the way Brady’s did. She didn’t want to touch their skin or say something funny so they would smile at her.

Consciously, she forced her attention away from Brady and onto the conversation at the table. As bowls of food were passed to her, she took a serving for herself. Once, when she forked two pork chops onto her plate, she caught Tex looking at her and she winked. The ex-marine grinned.

Contentment stole over her, surprising her with a sense of warm belonging. She could fit in here. More important, she wanted to fit in.

“I heard you found a couple of steers in a mud hole this afternoon, Ralph,” Brady said.

The older cowboy nodded. “Got ’em out, boss.”

“I know. I checked on them. You did a good job. Thanks for checking that dry pond. I’d forgotten all about it.”

Ralph mumbled a reply.

“Ziggy and Quinn, that fence is going up faster than I’d expected.”

“Some of the main posts aren’t rotted, so we’re reusing them,” Quinn said.

Brady’s style of management was very hands-on. About the second or third night, Randi had noticed he made it a point to find something to praise about each employee nearly every day. No wonder even the drifters stayed.

“Rita.”

She looked up when he said her assumed name. An unexpected attack of nerves made her fork slip out of her fingers and bang against her plate. She picked it up and cleared her throat. “Yes?”

He continued to smile as if nothing was wrong. “I’d like to see you in my office after dinner.”

“Um, sure.”

“You rode Casper today?”

“Yes. There’s no hint of the injury. You can put him back to work tomorrow.”

“Great. You’ve been patient with him. I appreciate that.”

“No problem.”

She forced herself to cut off a piece of pork, but instead of eating it, she chased it around her plate. When Ziggy handed her the bowl of biscuits, she passed them on without taking one.

He wanted to see her in his office. She knew what that meant. After only a week, she was out on her butt—just like that.

She couldn’t remember making a mistake. Damn. The irony was, she had barely gotten used to being here and now she was going to be asked to move on. Just when she’d realized she would very much like to stay for a while.

* * *

The motel’s window air conditioner fought a losing battle against the early evening heat, but for 19.95 a night, neither occupant expected luxury.

“Yes,” the bald man said into the phone. “I understand, but without any clue as to where to look for her—”

The caller cut him off with a sharp word. The bald man frowned his impatience, but didn’t say anything aloud. He was too fond of his job…and his life…to complain.

His companion, a dark-haired man wearing a White Sox baseball cap, tossed a full pack of cigarettes into the air and caught it. He repeated the action, not paying attention to the phone conversation. There was no point in worrying. They would get their instructions and they would follow them. End of story.

“I understand your concern,” the bald man said. “It’s also mine. But it’s been two months and the trail is cold. If my associate and I had been tracking her from the beginning, she would already be taken care of.”

“Take care of her now,” the caller said. “I can’t stress the importance enough.”

The bald man nodded. He knew what that meant. Find Randi Howell or else. “Is someone watching the police station?” he asked. “She could be caught on her way in or out.”

The caller’s voice sharpened with annoyance. “If she speaks to the police, there’s no point in worrying about her. Understand? Another murder would make everyone suspicious and we don’t want to take that chance unless we have to. Now, I just want to know where she is and what she’s doing. Then we can decide the best way to make sure she doesn’t talk.”

“She hasn’t called the police with the information?”

“Not yet. It’s been so long now, she may think they wouldn’t believe her. The broad’s been on the run for a while. She’s alone and scared and probably doubting what she saw. She’ll get careless about her whereabouts. You be there to take advantage of that.”

The caller hung up without saying goodbye.

The man in the baseball cap looked at his associate and raised his eyebrows.

“Bad,” the bald man said. “We have to find her before she talks to the cops. It’s important.”

They stared at each other and ignored the fear. Important. As in they would pay with their lives if they failed.

“We found the trucker who dropped her off in Phoenix,” the bald man continued. “We’ve checked west and north. It’s time to go east. We’ll check the small towns. A newcomer looking for work should be easy to remember. She’s gotta work. She couldn’t have had much cash on her, and she hasn’t used her bank card to get any.”

The second man tossed the cigarette pack in the air again, caught it and grinned. “I know where she is,” he said.

“Where?”

“It’s in her file. You said she needs a job. She only worked in one place while she was in school. According to the information, she loved it. A stable. We should start checking ranches.”

The bald man nodded. “Good idea.” He picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. When it was answered, he said, “Yes, it’s me. We have an idea about where she might be.” He explained about the ranches. “I think it might work, too. Also, she may try to contact someone, using a rodeo or horse show for a cover. We’d like you to let us know if anyone in Grand Springs leaves to attend either.”

He listened for a minute, then hung up. “They like it,” he told his associate. “They’re pleased.”

Good news for both of them. Now all that was left was to get the girl.

* * *

Brady straightened the papers on his desk. They didn’t need straightening, but he ignored that fact, just the way he ignored the faint tension in his gut that told him he was nervous. Hell of a state for a man to find himself in.