Familiar Showdown Page 4

  He could see that she was uncomfortable. It would be hard for anyone to count a loved one dead without a body. He hated the word closure, but it was true. The physical body gave closure, allowed death to become real.

  Except, in the case of Rory Sussex, Johnny didn’t believe there had been a plane crash or a death. In fact, he and the U.S. government were almost certain that Rory was very much alive.

  The question was where had he gone and when would he show up at Running Horse Ranch?

  Chapter Four

  Sunlight glinted off something—a quick wink, wink. Johnny saw it, but he didn’t call Stephanie’s attention to it. Someone was on the high north ridge, watching them with binoculars.

  He eased his horse forward so he was between Stephanie and the watcher. Just in case.

  So who was it on the ridge? Was it Rory? Or was it some of the men pursuing Rory? Johnny had no doubt that members of Carlos Diego’s gang were hot on Rory’s heels. Rory had managed to piss off everyone involved. And Diego, a powerful man who’d built an empire selling information and drugs, didn’t keep hurt feelings to himself. He resolved his problems with bullets.

  “Here’s a break in the fence.” Stephanie slipped off her horse, put on her gloves and began pulling the barbed wire out of a tangle. She used her lithe body to tug the wire taut, and Johnny was momentarily captivated by her sheer physical beauty.

  When she looked up at him with a frown, he dismounted and grasped the wire to help her. She labored with total concentration, and Johnny could see that she’d learned to work fast and efficiently. Living alone on a South Dakota ranch, she had no time for mistakes or leisure.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  He found her staring at him, brown eyes puzzled. A whisper of suspicion shifted across her features.

  “No. Just distracted for a moment.” He forced his mind back to the job at hand.

  “Distracted by what?” she asked.

  “Thinking about how you’ll manage here by yourself.” He saw instantly that he’d offended her. Her cheeks flushed with anger and she yanked at the wire.

  “I’ll manage just fine. A man isn’t the solution to every problem on a ranch, you know.”

  He controlled the impulse to touch her and wondered what was wrong with him. He’d almost stroked her back, as if it were his job to comfort her, as if she’d desired his protection. “I didn’t mean it that way. If you were a man, I’d still have concerns about one person with all this work and responsibility. What if you get hurt? Cell phone coverage out here is spotty at best. You could lie—”

  “Stop it!” She wheeled around to confront him. “Stop it right now. A meteorite could fall out of the sky and strike me if I lived in Chicago or New York. A driver could have a heart attack and lose control of a car and I could be crushed. Or someone could mug me. The only difference is that I’d likely lie in the middle of the street with people passing by and no one would help.”

  “I’m sorry, Stephanie. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He could see that he’d stepped in it deep. An apology wasn’t going to smooth this over.

  “Bad things happen everywhere, Johnny. It’s true, I could get hurt here. But I could get hurt anywhere. And just let me tell you, for the record, the worst kind of hurt comes not from physical pain but from—” She broke off and took a deep breath.

  “I didn’t mean to sound macho or condescending.”

  She struggled to regain control of her emotions, and he could see how much it cost her. “It’s okay. I overreacted.”

  She bent back to the fence, and he had an opportunity to scan the ridge. There was no reflection of sunlight on metal. Whoever had been watching had either left or hidden.

  While he didn’t like it, he had expected it. Rory Sussex had stolen from two factions—the U.S. government and Carlos Diego. Both were out to get him.

  And Stephanie was caught squarely in the middle—with the added handicap that she had no clue as to what was happening around her.

  “Let’s keep moving,” she said as he helped her pull the fence tight and stapled it into place. “I want to cover this north line before dark.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered, glad for any reason to move away from the ridge where the observer had such an advantage.

  He wasn’t worried that someone would hurt Stephanie. Not yet. Not until Rory made his next move. But once Rory initiated the action, Stephanie could become the bone in a very big dogfight.

  STEPHANIE REGRETTED HER OUTBURST, but she was fed up with folks heaping doom and gloom on her head. She knew the risks and dangers of living alone, so isolated, on a horse ranch. Once the winter set in, travel was difficult and there was no guarantee anyone would think to check on her. But the truth was, she could just as easily live in town and be alone. She hadn’t bothered to try to make friends, and there was no one to miss her even if she lived in a town apartment and were injured.

  She blew her breath out, mounted her horse and rode along the fence. They mended an additional two breaks and finally hit the end of the fence line. The wire was good for another winter, unless a deer or something crashed through it and took it down.

  They’d worked in silence for the better part of an hour, and she’d grown comfortable with him. As she turned her horse toward the barn, Johnny spoke again.

  “I am sorry if I upset you.”

  “It wasn’t you. Every time I go into town, I hear that. People feel compelled to warn me about all the dire things that might happen. I don’t see them fretting about Wade Chisholm or Will Tanner. And it’s because they’re men. Because I’m a woman who’s chosen this life, they can’t help but see me as reckless.”

  To her surprise, he chuckled. “Point taken. You trust yourself, and others should respect that and trust your decisions.”

  Despite the fact that she was still a little sore, she laughed, too, though her laugh was rueful. “Sometimes trust can be misplaced.”

  “Folks can disappoint—that’s a fact. I’d rather spend my time with a horse,” Johnny agreed.

  “A horse and one black cat.” She relaxed, letting her body sway with Flicker’s movement as the little roan carried her home. “You know, I never thought I’d be a cat person, but Familiar is so…”

  “Intelligent?” Johnny supplied.

  “That’s right. He seems to hear everything I say and he even answers me. I’m sure he does.” She laughed out loud. “Eleanor, his owner, says he’s a detective. That people around the world hire him to solve cases.”

  A frown passed over Johnny’s face. “Really? How extraordinary.”

  “You don’t think it’s poppycock?”

  “Why couldn’t it be true?” Johnny shrugged. “It’s as likely as some of the things I’ve seen.”

  She found it surprisingly easy to talk to Johnny. Before he’d appeared at Running Horse Ranch, weeks had passed when she didn’t speak to anyone. Once she stocked up on supplies, she only went to town for emergencies or necessities. And she’d spent most of July and August on the ranch.

  “Tell me about Black Jack,” Johnny said. “Where did Rupert Casper get him and how?”

  Stephanie thought back through the tangle of the horse’s history. “Some of this is fact and some is gossip and some is pure vicious rumor from the two men who brought Black Jack here.”

  “Let’s start with the vicious rumor. That’s my favorite part,” Johnny said.

  Stephanie took a swat at his arm. “Could be you’re working for the local gossip mill in town and have been sent here to get the real story on me.”

  “Is there a real story?” Johnny asked.

  The question caught her by surprise, especially since he watched her with the keenest look. Almost as if he expected her to reveal some deep, dark secret. Well, he’d be mighty disappointed if that was what he was waiting for. She’d had tragedy, for sure, but nothing she had any desire to reveal.

  “What you see is what you get,” she said. “Now let’s talk about the horse.”


  “I’m listening.”

  “Gibb and Kyle brought Black Jack over about two weeks ago. They said there’d been an accident. Rupert decided he was going to ride Black Jack whether the horse wanted it or not. They saddled him, and Rupert got on.” She watched Johnny’s expression, trying to gauge his feelings, but she couldn’t read him. It was as if a mask had settled over his features.

  “Black Jack was quick and vicious and he threw Rupert and then stomped Rupert’s shoulder,” she continued. “Rupert felt that the horse meant to kill him, so he ordered the horse to be shot. While Rupert was in the hospital, Gibb and Kyle brought him here to me. They said Rupert had struck him repeatedly with a club. They believed the horse was merely trying to defend himself.”

  Johnny sighed. “I guess he thought he’d beat the horse into submission.”

  “Something I’d like to try on Rupert,” Stephanie said darkly.

  “So where did Black Jack come from originally?”

  “From Nevada. An actor named Jim Diamond had a big cutting horse ranch. He died and his son sold everything. He didn’t care about the ranch or the stock or any of it. He wanted the cash. Black Jack had a reputation for being difficult to handle even then. But Jim Diamond loved him, and the horse was obedient and well-behaved for him.”

  “Horses know when people care about them.”

  Stephanie nodded. “That’s true. Anyway, Black Jack had a couple of homes before Rupert got him. There were incidents, and people were injured trying to handle the stallion. He acquired a reputation—and not a good one. So Rupert got him for way under value.” In the distance the ranch was visible. She’d be glad to get home.

  “And Rupert would rather kill him than let him go to someone who could help him?”

  “Rupert has an ego the size of California and a brain smaller than a pea.”

  “I didn’t care for what I saw of him.”

  “I’d love to bury him in an ant bed and coat his head with honey.”

  Johnny’s laughter was rich and deep. “I hope I don’t ever piss you off,” he said.

  She glared at him but couldn’t hold it. “See that you don’t.” But then she spoiled the effect by laughing herself.

  “Anyway, Black Jack is a descendent of Three Bars and Iron Man. He’s working cattle all the way, and if someone can get through to him, he’ll be one of the fanciest, finest cow horses in the West.”

  “We made some progress this morning.”

  She flashed him a smile. “I saw that. But don’t let him trick you. He’s smart and he doesn’t trust people. He’ll act fine for several days, and then he’ll snap.”

  That put a frown on the cowboy’s face.

  “You don’t think he’s unbalanced, do you?” Johnny asked.

  Stephanie gave that thought serious consideration. She owed Johnny that much if he was going to put himself at risk by working the stallion. “I don’t think so. I believe he’s terribly smart. And he watches us. But his trust has been undermined. If we can’t teach him to trust again, I don’t know that he’ll ever be reliable.”

  “We’ll see what tomorrow brings,” Johnny said. “Race you to the barn.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to accept or decline. His gelding spurted forward and Stephanie had no choice but to lean forward into Flicker’s mane or eat his dust.

  WHILE THE HUMANS are away, the cat will play. At least this black cat will. Thank goodness it’s a beautiful, sunny day. I need to do some work on the Internet, and reception might be problematic if the atmosphere is cloudy. Way out here in the hinterlands, the only Internet access is by satellite.

  It’s a simple matter to check out Johnny Kreel, cowboy extraordinaire. I like it that he’s here to help Miss Cowgirl, but the more I’ve thought about the coincidence of his arrival, the more troubled I’ve become.

  Let’s see here. Johnny Kreel, born Oct. 30, 1973. Almost a Halloween baby. Born to Patricia and John Kreel in Enterprise, Alabama.

  Attended the University of Alabama and graduated from law school. Interesting.

  Not a whole lot of additional information. No service record. Nothing suspicious, and nothing of any real interest. Homogenized work record, and then he sort of vanishes from the Internet. Let me check the rodeo rosters.

  Here he is, just where he said he’d been. Followed the rides along Texas, Oklahoma, and into South Dakota. Okay, he checks out so far.

  But someone who wanted to create a past could do so without too much trouble. And why am I suspicious? Call it a hunch. Or call it an observation, if that pleases you more. While I’m glad he showed up and rescued Miss Cowgirl, I can’t help but find it odd that he appears out of the clear blue sky—a man who finds his way to a horse ranch at the end of miles of dead-end dirt roads.

  Could be simple coincidence or good luck. Could be a higher power at work. Or it could be that Johnny Kreel set out to find Stephanie for some as-yet-unrevealed purpose. I don’t have the answer to that, but my gut has kept me alive more times than I can count.

  Speaking of gut, I think it’s dinnertime. And lo and behold, here come the range-riding cowhands. Thank goodness they didn’t invite me to go and mend fences. I was far happier poking around the house. Now let me shut this computer down before they realize I’ve been checking up on things.

  AT STEPHANIE’S DIRECTION, Johnny washed his hands at the kitchen sink and took the hand towel she proffered. To his embarrassment, his stomach registered a loud complaint.

  “Sounds like you’re hungry,” Stephanie said. “Me, too. Let’s see what kind of grub we can throw together.”

  “I can cook.” Johnny spoke before he thought. She slowly faced him, an amused grin reflected in her dancing eyes.

  “Oh, really? A cowboy who has a law degree and who cleans up the kitchen and can cook.” She folded the dish towel carefully. “That’s not a combination of talents one normally finds in South Dakota.”

  Johnny felt the blood climbing his cheeks. Before he could say anything, she shook her head.

  “And one who blushes. My, my.”

  “Damn it.” He ran his hand through his hair. “You are one aggravating woman.” To his chagrin, that amused her even more.

  “I’ve been called a lot worse,” she said. “That aside, how about some steaks and the fixings?”

  “Perfect,” he said.

  They worked together and whipped up the meal in short order. When Johnny questioned the third steak, Stephanie pointed at the cat.

  “Familiar likes steak.”

  She was setting the table when the telephone rang. She picked it up as she searched through a drawer for steak knives. “Running Horse Ranch,” she said.

  Johnny pulled two chilled beers from the refrigerator and was putting them on the table when he heard the phone clatter to the floor.

  Stephanie was white as a ghost.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  She looked as if she were going into shock. He grasped her elbow and supported her while at the same time scooping up the telephone.

  “Who is this?” he demanded into the phone.

  “Stay out of this,” a muffled and distorted male voice said. “This is between me and the woman.”

  Johnny felt the adrenaline run through him. This was the first move. The finish could prove very bloody. “Who is this?” he repeated.

  “The man who’s going to gut you like a dead animal if you don’t clear off that ranch and mind your own business.”

  Instead of answering, Johnny ended the call. Stephanie had recovered, and he saw spots of anger in her cheeks.

  “That bastard,” she said.

  “Who was it?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She started to turn away, but Johnny grasped her shoulders.

  “Who was it?” Johnny insisted.

  “Let me go.” Stephanie’s eyes flashed danger.

  Johnny held her firmly. “What did he say?”

  She struggled for a moment before she stopped. When she met
his gaze, her eyes were hard as flint. “He said he was watching me.”

  Johnny kept his features bland, just as he’d been trained. “Did he say anything else?”

  She shook her head. “That was enough. And that tactic won’t work on me. It’ll be a cold day in hell before Rupert Casper gets the better of me with a threatening phone call.”

  For a moment Johnny was stunned. “Rupert Casper?”

  “That’s who was on the phone. Who else would call here and say he’s watching me, like he’s some kind of killer waiting for an opportunity to strike?” Stephanie clattered two plates onto the table. “Well, he can’t frighten me with that foolishness.”

  Johnny opened the two beers, taking his time. “You really think that was Casper?”

  She got flatware from a drawer and finished the table settings. “Who else? It just shows what kind of bully he is.”

  “Why would he do that?” Johnny asked.

  “Because he’s gone back to his ranch and sulked about Black Jack. He realized that he made himself look like a fool. Now he’s going to make me pay because I didn’t let him kill the horse.” She motioned Johnny into a chair as she put the food on the table. “Did he say anything to you?”

  Johnny hesitated. Now was the time to come clean, to tell Stephanie everything. He didn’t for a minute believe the man on the other end of the telephone was Rupert Casper. Not a chance. The caller was someone far more lethal, and by not telling Stephanie, he put her at risk. But ignorance of the events unfolding around her might also be her only way to stay safe. “No, not a word.”

  She’d cut up one of the steaks into bite-size portions for Familiar, and she set it on the table. The black cat hopped onto a chair and sat, golden eyes watching Johnny carefully.

  “Then let’s eat. That goat isn’t going to spoil my supper.” Stephanie slipped into a chair and unfolded her napkin. “Dig in.”

  Johnny picked up his fork, but he found himself staring into the golden gaze of the cat. Familiar was glaring at him, as if the cat knew he’d lied.

  He speared a bite of steak and forced himself to eat. He’d come to Running Horse Ranch with an assignment, and despite his personal feelings, he was duty bound to follow this through to the end. Exactly as he’d been ordered. He had no other choice.