Heart of a Lawman Page 11

  Josie got down on her knees, lifted the cover and ducked her head to see. Sure enough, fur fluffed out, the cat was scrunched against the wall.

  “Come over here, you rascal.”

  When she reached for Miss Kitty, the cat hissed and moved farther away.

  Acting just as she had in the abandoned building, Josie realized, the hair on her arms prickling. She sat back on her heels and looked around the room, but nothing was out of place. She’d left the shade up on the window near the bed. Had someone looked in, scaring the cat?

  She was having that feeling again….

  And was that movement she saw outside? She swore she saw moonlight glinting off something pale.

  Heart pounding, Josie flew to her feet and rushed out of the room, through the mudroom and out the door to the yard. Crazy thoughts raced through her head. Determined to confront her own danger and be done with it, she looked around frantically. Her poor night vision prevented her from seeing much but hulking shadows.

  Trying to convince herself that nothing was wrong, that she’d merely spooked herself by discussing her situation with Alcina, then having Tim pop out of the woodwork to give her a start, Josie returned to the house and to her room. And while Miss Kitty didn’t seem as relaxed as usual, the cat was standing in the middle of her bed, waiting.

  “There you are,” Josie murmured, trying to sound natural and running a hand through the fur, setting the cat to purring. “Everything is all right.”

  Even as she spoke the words, she couldn’t stop herself from giving one last, long look out the window.

  But if danger lurked in those shadows, it chose to elude her…for now.

  Chapter Eight

  When Bart picked up Josie the next morning, the first thing he said when she climbed into the truck was, “I see you’re moving pretty good.”

  “Better than I expected.”

  A hot shower had loosened stiff joints and another ibuprofen dulled the ache.

  “Glad to hear it. I wasn’t sure if you would be wanting to move at all after yesterday.”

  “Like I had a choice,” she muttered as he headed the SUV for the Curly-Q. “So your kids are off to their new schools. I’ll bet they’re nervous.”

  “Them and me. I want this thing to work. I figure if they like their school and make new friends fast, my job will be that much easier.”

  “It’s got to be tough raising kids alone—especially when one of them is a teenager.”

  “Tough but rewarding.”

  With Josie prompting him, Bart spent the better part of the ride telling her about the trials and tribulations and joys of single parenthood.

  She loved listening to him, and yet the conversation left her feeling at odds. Dissatisfied. Wondering if, through her accident, she could have forgotten kids of her own. Surely a mother could never forget the existence of her own children. Recognizing an empty spot inside herself, she wondered if Bart really knew how lucky he was.

  Josie envied Bart his big family, despite the problems that he’d hinted at having with his father and brothers. She’d give anything for the sense of belonging he must have.

  She’d give anything to belong to him.

  Startled by that unexpected turn of thought, Josie fought sudden panic.

  It was a longing in general to be part of things that she missed, she assured herself. Maybe she was and just couldn’t remember.

  But she didn’t feel part of things, didn’t feel any connection except to Bart. She’d felt connected to him all along—just not the ever-after kind of connection. How could it be serious after a couple of days and a single kiss? Probably it would never happen, which was good.

  She never wanted any man to have control over her, not ever again, Josie thought, irritated with herself.

  What had she been thinking?

  By the time Bart brought the SUV to a stop at the side of the house, Josie was mired in a strange mood.

  “We have a new hire coming out this morning,” he told her. “Name’s Peter Dagget. He’s young, but he’s had some summer experience moving cattle, so I agreed to give him a try.”

  “That means first thing I have to match two men with the right horses.”

  “I’m not worried about Will,” Bart said. “After busting broncos on the rodeo circuit, he can probably handle whatever you send his way. Pay special care that Peter gets a ride he can handle, though.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Josie meant to pay special care to more than choosing mounts. Instincts bristling, she would keep an eye out for any sign of trouble. She didn’t mean to get ambushed again.

  Though Will did his best to try it.

  Bart had disappeared into the house—said he had to make arrangements about that windmill—and she was putting a palomino named Pretty Girl through her paces, when Will’s voice sang through the fence at her.

  “You two look good together,” he said appreciatively, “but nothing like you do on that sorrel of yours. Whatever happened to her?”

  Pulse triggered by the reference to the horse she’d dreamed about and even now could see in her mind’s eye, Josie let herself be distracted for a moment.

  Flaxen mane whipping in her face, she made a tight turn and took the straightaway….

  A moment being long enough for the mare she was riding now to test her. Pretty Girl bolted to one side, then twirled on her hindquarters. And all the while, a grinning Will leaned over the fence where he’d climbed up to watch.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” Josie muttered under her breath.

  She sat fast, held the mare together with firm legs and a steady hand, collected her and took her once around the corral. Then she walked the horse to the gate and unhooked it. Pretty Girl tried being stubborn about not wanting to go through the opening, but Josie won that contest. In the end, they pranced right through.

  “Ah, you found one with some life in her,” Will said.

  “And Pretty Girl is all yours for the day.”

  As she dismounted, the cowboy came down off the fence to take the reins from her.

  “I like my horses fast.” Will fixed her with his golden gaze and lowered his voice. “Just like my women.”

  Refusing to acknowledge the personal message he was telegraphing with that suggestive look and tone, Josie said, “Then you can give each other a good workout.”

  Will tipped his white hat. “Don’t mind if I do, ma’am.”

  Without so much as using a stirrup, he launched himself into the saddle and put the mare through her paces much like Josie herself had, only sharper and faster and a little less careful. Bart’s bronco-busting comment came to mind as she watched Will show off—for trying to impress her certainly seemed to be his game.

  The rodeo circuit. He was a natural.

  Is that where they’d met? Is that where he’d seen her on the sorrel?

  The desire to ask became overwhelming.

  Myriad questions burned on her tongue, but Josie held them back. If Will meant her harm, she wanted to find a way to make him show his hand. Instinctively, she suspected being too direct with a spoiler would be a serious mistake.

  Still, it was killing her—how well did they know each other?

  Just then, Moon-Eye left his quarters accompanied by Frank, A.C. and D.C. The men and dogs headed straight for her, Frank picking up the reins of an already-saddled horse he’d left out to graze. She recognized the bay as one of their escorts when Bart had brought her onto the ranch.

  “She feels good,” Will said, bringing the mare to a halt inches from Josie. “She’ll do.”

  “I’m so glad you approve,” Josie muttered.

  “Well, would you look at that,” Moon-Eye called as the men drew closer. “That palomino is almost as pretty as the cowboy riding her.”

  Will grinned and tipped his hat so that sunlight glinted off his golden curls. “A man with a sharp eye.”

  “You and me better move out, Will,” Frank said, swinging himself up into the saddle. T
hen, to Josie, “That Dagget kid should be here any time. You fix him up with a mount and send him to the far north pasture after us.”

  He gave her instructions on how the new hire should get there, then led the way out, whistling for the cattle dogs, who tore off ahead of him and quickly disappeared over a rise.

  If she had expected Will to have anything more to say to her, Josie would have been disappointed. Without so much as a look her way, he caught up with Frank and rode with him as if they were old buddies.

  At least he was keeping his word pretending he didn’t know her, she thought.

  “If anyone needs me,” Moon-Eye said, heading for the row of ranch trucks near the storage shed, “I’ll be hauling out more water to that northwest pasture. Them girls was pretty thirsty yesterday.”

  Josie waved him off, then went about the task of rounding up a suitable horse for the new hire—a gelding paint she’d checked out the day before. Native was older and a little lazy—he tended to need some encouragement to go. He wouldn’t have been her first choice but for Bart’s warning.

  As she tacked him up, her mind wandered.

  Gaze focused sharp through the flaxen mane, she applied leg pressure and the sorrel mare whipped around the first barrel…. “Barrel,” Josie murmured, cinching Native’s saddle.

  She dug in the coin pocket of her jeans and pulled out the pin she’d found the night before. She stared at it, knowing this was a key to her identity.

  “NBRA…” It took her only a few seconds. “National Barrel Racing Association.”

  If this pin belonged to her, she was a barrel racer! That would explain her natural affinity with horses. Excitement pulsed through her. Holding on to the pin, she conjured the vision again, hoping she could take it further this time.

  But her concentration was broken by the sound of a reedy engine. Eyes open once more, she spotted a motorbike shoot down the road toward the canyon floor. Peter Dagget, no doubt. He was catapulting over rough areas so fast that he seemed to be flying in places.

  She sure didn’t want him handling one of her mounts like he did the bike—like some daredevil out of control.

  Josie stuck the pin back in her jeans pocket for later.

  Leading Native, she stepped out of the corral, continuing to watch as the loose horses followed the motorbike at a safe distance. They were obviously nervous. Native, too, was bothered by the noise approaching so fast. He tried dancing away from her when it seemed the bike was going to keep going. The rider barely slowed in time to stop a foot short of Josie, an accompanying whirl of red dust making her cover her nose and mouth so she wouldn’t suck it all in.

  Cutting the engine, a tall, skinny kid hopped off, saying, “Hey, where can I find Bart Quarrels?”

  Josie blinked against the settling dust and took a good look at his loopy grin. “You must be Peter Dagget. Don’t ever ride your bike into the canyon like that again. The horses don’t like it. More important—I don’t like it.”

  Peter made a weird face. “Uh-oh, you the missus?”

  “I’m the wrangler—Josie Wales.” She grabbed Native’s reins and turned him around. “And this is your mount for the day.”

  “That scrawny little fella? He doesn’t look like he’s got any life in him at all.” Peter looked around at the loose horses that were coming in closer now. “That one.” He pointed to the blue roan. “I want to ride her.”

  “Juniper? She’s just green-broke. No one can ride her yet.”

  “I bet I can.”

  “Not unless I say so, you can’t.” She held out Native’s reins. “You’d better catch up to the men and fast.”

  Peter mounted Native, all the while sending longing looks at Juniper—what Josie thought of as horse-lust. He really was young, just a teenager, little older than Bart’s son. She repeated the directions Frank had given her. The young cowboy nodded and goosed Native to get going. He didn’t even try to hide his frustration at the horse’s naturally slow pace.

  Then, when he gave him a stronger kick and called the horse a few choice names, she yelled after him, “That horse better not come back with bruised sides! And you treat him with the respect he deserves!”

  “Yes, ma’am!” Peter returned, his shoulders folding slightly, as if he were well and truly chastised.

  Josie figured him to be a kid with more enthusiasm than experience, a big mouth but not really a mean sort. She watched until he disappeared from view.

  Then, sensing a presence behind her, she whipped around, pulse thrumming…but it was only Juniper, come to bother her for a little attention.

  “So, should I have let young Peter ride you?” she asked, reaching out to stroke the mare’s neck.

  Juniper blew hard through her nose.

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no, thanks,”’ Josie murmured, working at removing a tangle from the mare’s mane. “Besides, I intend to ride you before I let anyone else do it.” Realizing that statement had the sound of permanence about it, she sighed and gave the roan’s neck a pat. “But not today, sweetheart, not today. I have other horses to check out first.”

  As she approached the pasture adjacent to the barn, she gave a series of sharp whistles. Several horses responded with whinnies. Even so, she felt a bit adrift. Because the yard was barren of people, and if she didn’t know better, the house might be, as well?

  Or simply because Bart was nowhere in sight?

  She felt alone.

  A little spooked, aware of exactly how alone she was in her secrets, Josie figured she’d better grow eyes in the back of her head if she wanted to stay safe.

  ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH the morning and already Bart had a headache. To start, he’d taken his first look at the books. No wonder the Curly-Q was in trouble.

  He’d already known some of it. Based on the high beef prices of the seventies, his father had borrowed money at double-digit rates on the inflated price of the land, bringing the cost of the ranch far beyond its realistic value. He’d purchased new equipment and had expanded the herd. Then the drop in beef prices and land values of the eighties had meant near disaster. Scores of ranches throughout the West had gone broke and out of operation, most selling to corporations or ranchers who hadn’t taken such a risk.

  Somehow his father had been able to avoid total disaster. It had been touch-and-go for years, but Emmett Quarrels had hung on—by his fingernails, as Bart saw it. While he’d been able to manage to stay afloat alone, he hadn’t asked his sons for a thing. But now something else was happening—a string of expensive bad luck over the past six months and a serious health problem that had backed the old man into a corner.

  No wonder Pa had made that comment about things going wrong, Bart thought.

  He knew the ranch couldn’t survive going on as it had been during the past years. They were two years behind in mortgage payments now. Serious changes would have to be made…but one thing at a time.

  His immediate problem was getting enough help. Maybe he ought to hire some extra day workers until Reed and Chance decided whether they were in or out of the deal. That, of course, would take more money, and until they sold off some of the herd they were pretty much cash-strapped.

  Therein lay the catch-22.

  Which was why he started off in a mood to beat all get-out.

  Then, after talking to his contact at the Motor Vehicle Division twice, Bart found himself with an even bigger headache than before. It seemed that Miss Josie Wales did not have a driver’s license, not in New Mexico. Neither was there a record of any Josephine or Jocelyn or Joelle Wales. His friend had checked for any woman with that particular last name. He’d come up with a new driver—a teenager—several who were middle-aged and one who was nearly eighty.

  After which, his friend had gotten his contacts to run computer checks in neighboring states. Also to no avail. Bart had found no one who could be his Josie.

  His Josie?

  Bart didn’t know why, but that’s the way he was starting to feel—as if he had some claim.
Otherwise, why would he be so worried about something bad happening to her? Why was he going to all this trouble to dig up information that she wasn’t willing to give him herself?

  He tried telling himself it was just the lawman in him—Pa had said he wouldn’t be able to shake that part of himself and so might as well put it to use. And so he had.

  His Josie…

  With so many worries on his mind, Bart didn’t need this one to compound things. He needed to get into Taos to pick up some supplies that were unavailable in Silver Springs.

  And he couldn’t forget to take in Lainey’s film to be processed—his daughter had already shot a new roll in addition to the one that had been in her camera when they’d arrived. He’d take them to one of those quick processing places and surprise her with the prints when she got home from school. That ought to put a smile on her freckled face, he thought, as his own lips quirked.

  He needed something to feel positive about, that was for certain.

  On the way to his vehicle a quarter of an hour later, Bart saw Josie was working an Appaloosa just outside the corral.

  No matter his determination, he couldn’t resist.

  As if drawn by a magnet, Bart found himself wandering over to her. That she was a superior horsewoman was evident. He’d seen firsthand her soft heart in the way she’d rescued and treated Miss Kitty. Neither of those qualities would hold up in his book if he couldn’t trust her, though.

  Wondering if he could, desperately wanting to, Bart was caught by Josie’s instant smile when she spotted him. Her pleased expression flooded him with a warmth that was contrary to his purpose.

  “Did you get what you needed?” she asked, turning the Appaloosa as he came alongside her.

  For a moment, he thought about how he needed her. Then he started as a suspicion occurred to him—could she possibly know that he’d been investigating her identity?

  “Depends on what we’re talking about,” he ground out.

  “The repair to the windmill.”

  “Oh, that. Yeah, I’m set there.”

  Josie dismounted and tossed the horse’s reins over a rail. When she stepped closer, her very proximity distracted him. Gazing deeply into her soft gray eyes, he had a difficult time wanting to play games with her. But she’d left him with no choice.