chapter Eight
The plane banked, giving Zane a view of manicured golf courses, red tiled roofs and shimmering aqua-marine swimming pools. After landing in Palm Springs, he rented a car and headed south toward the Salton Sea.
Caliente Junction was pretty much as he’d expected. A convenience store with lots of bars on the windows, a gas station, a boarded-up Mexican food place and several more empty buildings.
He could see what looked like a couple of houses behind the convenience store, small stucco houses sitting out in the middle of the desert. But he had little hope that the address Emma had used was anything more than one she’d pulled out of her hat.
Parking in front of the store, he got out and went inside. He was betting that Emma had some reason for wanting to hide her past and that was why she hadn’t shared it with Hoyt.
A bell jangled over the door and he was hit with the rich wonderful scent of homemade tamales. His stomach growled.
An elderly Latino woman appeared behind the counter. “Can I help you?”
“I sure hope so.” Zane pulled out the photograph he had of a smiling Emma McDougal Chisholm. “Do you recognize this woman?”
She barely glanced at the photo before asking, “What has she done?”
“She’s missing and I’m trying to find her. Her last known address was Caliente Junction.”
“Why do you want her? Are you a cop?”
He shook his head. “She’s my stepmother. My father is worried something has happened to her. So am I.”
The woman studied him for a moment. “You need to talk to Alonzo.”
When she didn’t say more, he asked, “Where do I find this Alonzo?”
She pointed toward the back of the building. “Last house at the end of the road. You can’t miss his truck parked outside. It’s blue.”
The truck was a lot of blues, a monster vehicle with huge tires and a body that looked as if it had been pieced together by Frankenstein during his “blue” period. Zane parked and walked up to the door. It opened before he could knock.
“Yes?” the large elderly Latino man asked suspiciously. Alonzo was wearing baggy shorts and a huge faded Grateful Dead T-shirt. His feet were bare and it was impossible to tell his age. But if Zane had to guess, it would be late seventies.
He gave Zane the once-over. Zane had wisely left his Stetson at home even though he felt half-naked without his hat. No way was he going anywhere without his boots and jeans, though, so he wore them and a Western shirt, which back home would have been standard ranchman’s wear. He had fit right in back in Denver.
Now, though, he felt overdressed. “I just spoke with the woman at the store. She suggested I talk to you. I’m looking for Emma.” He handed the man the photo. “I’m not a cop or a bill collector. Emma is my stepmother. I’m afraid she might be in some kind of trouble.”
“Your stepmother?” The old man sounded disbelieving and for the first time, Zane thought he might be at the right place.
“My dad recently married her.”
“Your dad?”
But he was getting tired of the echo. “Hoyt Chisholm of Chisholm Cattle Company out of Whitehorse, Montana.”
The man laughed. “So Emma really did marry a cowboy? Come in,” he said, pushing the door open wide and stepping back. As Zane entered, Alonzo said, “What’s this about Emma being in trouble, though? If anyone can take care of herself, it’s our Emma McDougal.”
DAWSON LAY ON HIS BACK staring up at the sky overhead. Not since his childhood could he remember watching clouds float by on a summer day and feeling so content. He breathed in the sweet scent of the crushed grass beneath him. It mingled with the scent of the woman next to him.
He never wanted to leave here, didn’t even want to get up. Right now he would have let the rustlers take the cattle. All that mattered was being here with this woman on this summer day because he knew it couldn’t last.
Jinx lay beside him, looking up at the expanse of blue sky dotted with big white clouds. There was a small smile on her lips, a softness to her expression that made him smile as well. The breeze ruffled her short blond curls and he felt an ache for her, a longing. There were some women you could never have, not in a way that promised they would always be there. Jinx was one of them.
“I can’t let you go after the rustlers,” he said, speaking the fear in his heart.
She turned her head slowly toward him. “Please don’t, Dawson.”
Dawson. Not Chisholm. He liked the sound of his name on her lips. Hell, he liked her lips on him.
He pushed himself up on one elbow and laid an arm over her warm stomach. Her soft skin spurred another jolt of desire that burned through him like an out-of-control wildfire. He knew that if he had a lifetime, he would never get enough of this woman, this capable, stubborn, determined woman who didn’t think she needed anyone.
Well, getting the leader of the rustling ring was one thing he couldn’t let her do alone. “Jinx—”
She slid out of his hold, picking up her jeans from the ground as she did. Her panties were still inside the jeans. She moved a few feet away and pulled on both before turning back to him.
He was sitting on the ground, his gaze on her. “You’re still determined to go after him alone, aren’t you?”
She reached for her Western shirt lying on the ground next to him. He grabbed her wrist, met her gaze, and then slowly let go. “I have to finish what I started.”
“Let me help you get him,” he said.
“No.” She shook her head, the look in her eye warning him not to bother arguing with her about this.
He nodded, chewing at his cheek as he tried to stem his anger. And his hurt. “What about this?” He motioned to the crushed grass, the scent of the two of them still lingering, the memory of the feel of her still fresh on his skin.
Jinx looked into his eyes and said the only thing she could. “It was a mistake.” She wanted to take back the words the instant they left her lips. She saw the hurt in Dawson’s eyes, but she knew that the one thing she couldn’t risk was this man’s life.
This was her crazy crusade for justice, a promise she’d made her father as she stood over his casket. She had to do this, but she wouldn’t let Dawson get any more involved than he already was.
“I’ve come too far to stop now,” she said, the words like gravel in her mouth as Dawson rose and began to dress, his movements hasty with anger. “It’s something I have to do on my own.”
“You go back to Rafe alone and you’re a dead woman.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she snapped. “This is something I have to do. Alone, because that is the only way I can get near the man behind these rustlers. I thought you knew that.”
“Knowing it is one thing. Accepting it…” He shook his head.
“I know how dangerous this is.” Her voice broke. Dawson Chisholm was another danger, one she hadn’t planned on, one she couldn’t regret either. But now she had him to worry about and she was desperate to see that nothing happened to him because of her.
“I should have ridden out this morning,” she said, pushing her straw hat down over her tangled blond hair.
“Why didn’t you?” he asked, his gaze locking with hers.
She could still smell him on her, still feel his phantom touch on her flesh. “I’ll ride with you as far as the next corral. After that, you just concern yourself with your cattle.” She turned and headed for her horse.
IT TOOK ALL OF HIS STRENGTH not to go after her and pull her into his arms again. But Dawson knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to let her go. Hell, he’d hog-tie her, whatever he had to do to keep her safe, and she would hate him for it until the day she died.
One look at her and he realized short of taking her prisoner again, there would be no keeping this woman from doing what she’d set out to do from the beginning.
Just as he’d felt about the first woman he’d loved.
The reminder sent an arrow of pain through him. Jinx had nailed it when she’d said there’d been a woman in his life who had been taken from him. Only, Jinx had thought the woman had been taken by another man. He’d lost her nonetheless and he still felt the pain of that loss.
And now he’d met another headstrong woman who was determined to get herself killed. He rose and quickly dressed.
As he swung up in his saddle, she said, “I need you to let me finish this, Dawson.”
“Could I stop you?” He shook his head, furious with himself for letting this woman get to him. And she had. Maybe from the moment he’d tackled her thinking she was one of the rustlers. Maybe in the firelight of the cave. But she’d gotten to him. He thought now how apt her name was.
“I’ve already tangled with one headstrong woman who wouldn’t listen to reason when it came to her welfare,” he said. “I’m not up to trying to corral another one.”
Anger flared in her eyes like a blue flame. “I’m not one of your cattle, Chisholm. I don’t need herding—or corralling. I’m my own woman.”
“You don’t have to tell me that,” he said. “I get it. And you’re right. This was a mistake.” With that he reined his horse around and rode down to the creek to get his cattle. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He wasn’t letting another dangerous woman get her spurs in him—at least not any deeper than Jinx already had.
MCCALL REALIZED that telling her husband her plan had been a mistake.
“I don’t like this,” Luke said. “If you’re right and Aggie Wells is alive and has Emma, then I shouldn’t have to tell you how dangerous she is.”
“I’m the sheriff,” she said with exasperation. “Forget for a moment that I’m your wife.”
“I never forget you’re my wife. And I thank my lucky stars.” He took her shoulders in his big hands and drew her closer. He had stopped by the sheriff’s department on his way to work and now the two of them stood in the middle of her office, the door closed. “I just don’t like you being out there alone without backup.”
“I’ll have backup on the roads in and out of Chisholm Cattle Company. I’ll radio if I need help, but I think I can handle one woman.”
“Are you sure that’s all you’re going to have to handle?” he asked. “You’re that sure she’s working alone?”
The question took her by surprise and it shouldn’t have. If Aggie had abandoned her car out by the highway, had someone picked her up? Or had she already arranged for another vehicle that she simply got in and drove away?
“Uh-huh,” Luke said. “You’re convinced she has been working alone. What if you’re wrong?”
“If it turns out she has a small army at her disposal, I will call for backup.” She smiled at her husband. Touched that he was worried about her and a little concerned.
“How’s your grandmother?” he asked out of the blue.
“Pepper?” McCall hadn’t seen much of her lately. They’d both been busy. “Last time I talked to her, she and Hunt were settling in nicely. She loves having all her grandchildren on the ranch. They’re building houses all over the place out there. Why are you asking about her?”
“Because she called me. She’s worried about you. She thinks you work too hard. She wants us to come out for supper tomorrow. She also wonders when we’re going to have a baby.”
McCall quirked a brow. “She wonders?”
“She’s also worried that you might not be around tomorrow for supper,” he said, his gaze locked with hers.
McCall laughed and leaned in to kiss her husband. “Well, you can tell Grandmother or anyone else who’s wondering that we’ll be there tomorrow night.”
He looked skeptical.
“And you can tell whoever else is interested that I think we should have a baby.”
“Don’t fool with me, McCall Winchester Craw ford.”
She chuckled. “Let’s make a baby tonight.”
He broke into a huge smile and pulled her to him, holding her as if he never wanted to let her go.
McCall was a little surprised at how worried he was. They were both in law enforcement, Luke a game warden trained just like she had been when it came to criminals. Often they ended up working together because of the shortage of law enforcement in this part of Montana.
He knew what her job entailed. It was strange that this case in particular had him so worried. Or did it have more to do with him wanting to have a baby?
Either way, it made her more anxious than she wanted to admit. If Aggie Wells was alive, then there was a good chance she had come unhinged. Those were the scariest criminals to confront and apprehend because you never knew what they would do.
McCall knew that was what had her husband worried. He didn’t like the idea of her alone in an empty ranch house with a crazy woman. McCall wasn’t that excited about it either.
“Ask my grandmother if there is anything I can bring for supper tomorrow night,” she said later, trying to reassure them both as she gave him a conspiratorial wink. “By then with any luck, I’ll already be pregnant.”
EMMA THOUGHT FRANTICALLY about what she could say in the letter to let her stepsons know that she was being held captive by Aggie Wells.
But with Aggie watching over her shoulder with a gun pointed at her, there was little chance of sending a message.
“Tell them to leave you alone, that marrying Hoyt was a mistake and that you don’t intend to ever see them again,” Aggie ordered.
Emma felt her eyes tear at the thought that she might not see her stepsons again, or Hoyt for that matter. Her heart broke at the thought. She couldn’t bear to think that he might believe the words in the letter. Wouldn’t he know it was a lie? Didn’t he realize how much she loved him?
But she wouldn’t be the first wife he believed had left him and, given his terrible luck with wives…or as one local called it, the Chisholm Curse, he might believe the words in the letter, and so might her stepsons.
It was actually the Aggie Wells curse, Emma thought as she wrote what the woman dictated. Aggie might deny that she was behind Hoyt’s bad luck with wives since the first one had accidentally drowned, but Emma didn’t believe it.
“There,” she said as she finished.
“Sign it, Emma. Nothing more.”
She did and handed the paper to Aggie.
“The pen, too.”
Emma gave her an impatient look. “Did you think I was going to use the pen to break out of here? Or maybe carve it into a shank to use as a weapon?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Aggie said as she took it. “You must be getting tired of sandwiches, but that’s all we’re going to have to eat for a while.”
“Aggie, how long are we going to do this?”
The woman had stopped at the door. She had the pen and paper in one gloved hand, the gun in the other. “Do what?”
“Stay here like this?”
“As long as it takes,” Aggie said and stepped out, locking the door behind her.
IT WAS ALONG SLOW RIDE to the next corral. The sun made a wide arc through the big Montana sky and had finally dropped over the horizon to the west, leaving streaks of color through the pines.
Farther to the north, though, a bank of dark clouds hunkered on the horizon in what could amount to a thunderstorm before the day was over.
Dawson hadn’t said a word since they’d left the cabin. The only sound was the bawling of the calves and the occasional cry of a hawk in the sky over the towering pines as dusk settled in around them.
Jinx was sorry she’d told him that making love with him had been a mistake, but she figured he realized that now. It had been too intimate and she suspected it had left them both feeling vulnerable. They were vulnerable enough with a band of rustlers on the loose.
She wasn’t sure Dawson realized how dangerous these men were, but she knew firsthand. The thought of her father lying in the dirt— She felt tears burn her eyes and quickly wiped them away. First she would take down the head of the rustling ring and the rustlers, then she would deal with her loss and let herself grieve.
Going after the rustlers and their leader had been the only way she could cope. She knew it wouldn’t bring her father back, that it was dangerous, even stupid, but at least it was something she could do. Getting justice wouldn’t fill the hole her father’s death had left inside her. But it would maybe give her a little peace.
Ahead, she recognized a rocky bluff that sat high above a section of abandoned ranch. The calves had smelled water and were now bursting through the trees and into the open to get to it.
They both had reined in as they spotted the corral. It was empty.
For a moment neither of them moved as if taking this in and what it meant. Rafe and the others had moved the cattle out already. Or had never stopped here to start with.
“What the hell?” Dawson said, glancing over at her before he spurred his horse and rode down to the ranch. What was left of a small old cabin stood against a hillside. In front of it sat a cobbled rock wishing well. A frayed piece of rope hung from the well cover.
Jinx watched it move restlessly in the breeze as she tried to imagine the family who had lived here rather than think about Rafe. The ground was trampled from where the cows had been driven away. Rafe was more than suspicious of her. He was running scared.
Dawson had reined in his horse at the edge of the empty corral. Past him the land stretched out into the rolling prairie and the dark horizon. From here on out, there would be no trees or mountains to hide in. Unless they traveled at night, they would be in open country—country where someone could see them coming for miles.
As she looked across it, Jinx thought she saw dust rising on the horizon. The cattle herd? They’d never be able to catch it unless they left the calves here and rode hard. Then what?
Suddenly it seemed too quiet even with the bawling calves. Jinx felt the hair rise on the back of her neck. “Dawson!”
But before she could warn him, the sound of a rifle shot filled the air.