High-Caliber Cowboy Read online

  “I see. And he sent you down here to tell me.” She climbed up onto the fence, straddling it as she sat on the top rail.

  “I’m trying to save you,” he said and climbed up, as well.

  “Oh, I thought your job was security—not protecting women who wander onto the ranch. You save a lot of women, do you?”

  He watched her continue bonding with the mare. Several other horses stayed close, curious, but leery.

  He knew the feeling as he looked at this woman. “You think VanHorn sent me?” That was so ludicrous it was laughable, but then she didn’t know he’d been fired. Or that he was a McCall and shouldn’t have been on this ranch to start with.

  She raised a brow but said nothing.

  The sky glowed golden over the mountains to the east of the lake, warning that the moon would be up soon. “You have to give this up. Whatever it is, it isn’t worth getting yourself shot over.”

  The night air was cool. His boots were wet from wading at the edge of the lake. He could see that her jeans and boots were wet, as well.

  “How’s your head?” she asked quietly without looking at him.

  “Fine.” A lie. It still ached. A constant reminder of her. As if he needed another one.

  “Have you ever ridden a wild horse?” she whispered.

  “One of these brought up from Wyoming’s Bighorn?” He shook his head. “And I wouldn’t suggest you try to ride one, either, if I were you. I know VanHorn’s been breeding them and they might not be as wild as the others, but they sure as heck aren’t broken, either.”

  The peal of a bell filled the night air, startling him. A dozen lights blinked on at the ranch complex. An engine cranked over. Then another. The bell continued to ring. The fire bell!

  Anna swung her leg over the fence railing and slipped onto the mare’s back as if she’d done it before, earlier. She was going to try to ride that wild horse bareback!

  The thought was hardly formed when the horse took off running with Anna hunched over its neck, her fingers entwined in the mare’s mane.

  She was getting away.

  Worse, she was headed in the direction of the ranch house. Headed right into an ambush.

  Brandon leaped from the fence and raced back to where he’d ground tied his horse. Damn the woman! He’d tried to warn her. Didn’t she realize that VanHorn would have told his men to shoot first and ask questions later? After all, this was Montana and trespassing could get you killed.

  Swinging up into the saddle, he took off after her. As the first stars spread a pale glitter overhead, he and Anna streaked across the wide pasture to the thunder of hooves and the peal of the ranch bell. He was gaining on her, but only marginally.

  That’s when he saw it. A line of orange off the mountain from the ranch house, down not far from the water’s edge. A grass fire!

  He knew instantly what she’d done. The whiff of smoke he’d smelled in her hair. She’d started the fire as a diversion! VanHorn would go ballistic. What could be so important in that house that she’d get herself killed for it? Or, if she were lucky, only have to go to prison?

  He could smell the smoke on the breeze as he raced across the nightscape. It was a smell every landowner in this part of the country feared. A grass fire could sweep across acres in a matter of minutes. There was nothing more dangerous.

  Especially on a ranch with hundreds of coalbed methane gas wells.

  As he galloped after her, he could see movement at the ranch complex, men running, tanker trucks roaring off toward the blaze, other vehicles racing from the corners of the ranch as the alarm went out.

  He was gaining on her, but she was almost to the ranch house. She’d headed for the back again and the shelter of the tall pines. Brandon could see the line of the fire flickering up in orange waves as the flames rode the light breeze. There weren’t any wells for several miles from where she’d started the blaze, but if the breeze kicked up—

  With a shock, he realized that he’d underestimated the lengths this woman would go to. Vandalism. Breaking and entering. Now arson? She was looking at some hard time—if Mason didn’t get her first.

  She rode straight for the ranch house, a deep shadow moving swiftly, her small form almost lost in the horse’s silhouette.

  One thing was clear. The woman could ride. He spurred his horse, knowing they both could be seen from the ranch house as the moon crested the mountain behind them. Mason VanHorn could have the cross-hairs of his rifle on either of them right now.

  The moon came up behind them, washing the ranch in shimmering gold. Anna disappeared into the tall pines. He was almost to the dark pines behind the ranch house when her horse came barreling out without her.

  “Damn woman,” he swore as he swung down from his still-racing horse. The moment his feet hit the ground he was moving. Right into whatever trap VanHorn had laid for them. He wasn’t even sure a fire was going to do the trick this time. But he couldn’t turn back. He couldn’t let her fall into VanHorn’s hands. The woman had no idea how dangerous that would be. He was sure she’d never dealt with a man like Mason VanHorn before.

  It was pitch-black as he barreled into the stand of large pines, all moonlight extinguished under the wide dark sweeping branches. He didn’t see her and sure as hell didn’t see the tree limb she swung until it was too late.

  She caught him in the chest. The limb wasn’t very large. Fortunately for him, she hadn’t had much time to find a good one.

  All the limb did was knock the air out of him for a few precious seconds. Not long enough for her to turn and run. He grabbed her, swinging her around to face him as he wrenched the limb from her and tossed it aside.

  She jerked out of his grip and backed a few inches away from him, as if she knew he’d take her down if she ran. “I can’t believe you work for someone like Mason VanHorn.”

  “Worked. He fired me this afternoon.”

  “I don’t believe you,” she whispered harshly.

  “Fine. Then believe this. You don’t have any idea who you’re fooling with here. This man will kill you,” he whispered back as he stepped a little closer. He could see that if he reached for her, she would fight him like a wildcat. But he wasn’t letting her go near that house. “It’s a trap,” he whispered hoarsely. His chest ached. So did his head. He was getting tired of this woman hitting him. He could hear one of the fire trucks coming back up the hillside. Was it possible they’d already put the fire out? If so, the others would be coming, as well. “We have to leave now.”

  “Not until I get what I came for,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Didn’t you just hear me? It’s a trap. He’s waiting for us inside the house.”

  “Wrong,” said a deep male voice behind them. The night filled with the sound of a shotgun shell being slammed into its chamber. “I’m right here.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Brandon froze at the sound of Mason VanHorn’s voice behind him. He started to turn, the ground muddy from last night’s rain, but stopped as he felt the icy cold barrel of a shotgun press into the flesh behind his left ear.

  “You’ve vandalized my wells, broke into my house and now you try to burn down my ranch?” VanHorn’s voice rose with anger and contempt. “I should shoot you right now.”

  “I wouldn’t suggest you do that,” Anna said, stepping out of the dark shadow of the trees. Her voice sounded strange. Too calm for what was happening here.

  The woman had no fear. No sense, either. Brandon looked at her, wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Moonlight filtered through the pines as the moon, huge and golden, cleared the mountains. He could see anger etched into her features. She should have been scared witless. What the hell was wrong with her?

  He heard a sound behind him, almost a groan. Suddenly he didn’t feel the cold steel of the shotgun. He turned, afraid VanHorn had pointed the gun on Anna. As he spun around, he saw VanHorn slip in the mud and start to fall, dropping the shotgun as he tried to break his fall.

  Bran
don grabbed the fallen shotgun and reached for Anna.

  She stood staring down at the elderly man sprawled in the mud. VanHorn was trying to get to his feet.

  “Come on!” Brandon gave her arm a jerk and she seemed to come out of the fog she’d been in. Grabbing her hand, half dragging her, they ran to his horse. He heaved VanHorn’s shotgun into the darkness and swung up into the saddle, drawing her up behind him. “Hang on,” he ordered, as if he needed to. Her arms were already wrapped around his waist as he spurred his horse and took off up the mountainside. He could feel her shaking now as if in shock.

  Behind him he heard the sound of voices. VanHorn’s men must have found him. They would be hot on Brandon’s trail. He rode hard for the next stand of trees. If he could reach forest-service land, he knew he could lose them. The terrain was steep and wooded. There was no way VanHorn could follow by pickup. And there was little chance of being tracked by horseback until daylight.

  His horse lunged up the steep mountainside to where VanHorn land ended and forest-service land began. He’d left his gear at a spot high on the mountainside along a creek. He rode to it as the moon rose higher, making the night almost as bright as dawn.

  Ahead, he spotted the old waterwheel, the blades wooden and weathered. Beside it a small shack. He reined in the horse and started to reach back to help Anna off. She slid off with ease on her own and walked toward the creek and waterwheel as if they hadn’t been doing anything more tonight than going for a moonlight ride.

  “Are you suicidal?” he demanded as he swung down and followed her. He’d bought himself a world of trouble and all because of a woman. One he would probably never understand.

  The moon was high, casting a glow over her as he joined her. To his surprise, he saw that she’d been crying. Something softened inside him.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, thumbing away a lone tear on her cheek.

  She nodded and bit her lower lip as she looked again at the waterwheel. He’d put his pack at the opening to the shack. The small worn structure had no windows or even a door, but it was dry inside, the board weathered gray and soft from wear.

  “This is your camp,” she said, sounding surprised.

  He could see now that she was trembling. She hadn’t shown it, but she had been scared back there. He was relieved that the woman had a little sense.

  “I’ll get a fire going,” he said. She didn’t answer. He’d stacked some wood earlier while he’d waited for it to get dark. Now he went to the fire ring, and lighting a few tiny twigs, got a flame going. Carefully he added larger sticks until he had a good blaze, then put on some logs.

  She hadn’t moved, her back to him, as if she needed a few minutes alone. He gave them to her as he unsaddled his horse at the edge of the mountainside. Below him, he could see the valley, the Tongue River Reservoir a basin of liquid gold in the moonlight.

  If VanHorn’s men tried to follow them tonight, he would be able to see them coming. Not that he anticipated that happening. No, VanHorn would wait until first light. If he came after them. Brandon was betting VanHorn would expect him to go home to the Sundown Ranch where he would feel safe.

  Turning back to the fire, he saw that Anna was standing beside it warming her hands. The fire cracked and popped, sending sparks drifting up like fireflies.

  “Why didn’t you let me get caught back there?” she asked, staring into the flames as he joined her.

  “What makes you think you aren’t caught?”

  She raised her eyes to him. All that honey-brown glistened in the firelight. “Why were you working for Mason VanHorn?”

  “I needed the money.”

  “Badly enough to work for a man like that?” she asked.

  “The job was temporary. Mason found out I was on the payroll and I got fired. It was bound to happen. The VanHorns and the McCalls have been feuding for years. I have no idea what started it and I don’t care.”

  “If you were really fired, then what were you doing there tonight?”

  He took off his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair. “I was fired.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “I was there tonight because I wanted to try to keep you from riding into a trap. I had thought you might have the good sense to believe me. I was wrong.”

  “I’m sorry I misjudged you.” She sounded as if she might mean it. “I just assumed that you were still working for Mason. Why would you take a chance like that otherwise?”

  “I owed you.” He turned where she could see the bandage on his head.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you so hard.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She closed her eyes in a grimace. “And I hit you with the limb, too.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  When she opened her eyes they were filled with tears. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

  “That makes two of us, but it’s a little late for that now,” he said.

  “Not if you give me your horse and let me go. When this is over, I’ll make sure Mason VanHorn knows you were never involved.”

  “When this is over?” He laughed. “No way are you going anywhere without me. I’m up to my neck in trouble now because of you, and you’re going to get me out of it right away—not when this is over. It’s over now. In the morning, I’m taking you to the sheriff so you can turn yourself in. He’s my brother. You tell him everything, clear me, confess to your crimes and if you haven’t pulled these kinds of stunts before and gotten caught, the judge will probably give you probation.”

  “If I were to do that, you’d never convince Mason VanHorn that you weren’t in on it with me,” she said, shaking her head. “Isn’t it clear to you that he has something to hide? Until I get the goods on him, neither of us will ever be safe.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you’re about to make me another offer? Just so you know up front, I don’t do business with vandals, burglars and arsonists.”

  She glanced toward the pack he’d left suspended in a tree. “Is there food in there?” She obviously knew there was. This was bear country. Any food had to be put up high enough to discourage the varmints from stealing it. “I’m starved.”

  He studied her. She was trying to change the subject, stalling. But he wasn’t sure he was ready to hear her new offer anyway. Not that she could make him an offer he would accept, he told himself. “I brought some hot dogs.”

  Her expression brightened. “I can’t remember the last time I roasted hot dogs over a fire. Do you have mustard, ketchup and relish?”

  “What, no onions?” He laughed as he dragged up a stump for her to sit on. You would have thought he’d offered her a throne the way she smiled in gratitude.

  He set about whittling two long sticks, handed her one and got the small insulated bag of food inside his pack down from the tree. He watched as she speared a hot dog on her stick, then carefully held it over the glowing fire, turning the hot dog slowly, the skin blistering and bubbling before turning perfectly brown.

  Digging out the ketchup and relish fast-food packets, he handed them to her. “You almost look as if you’d done this before.”

  “Summer camp.”

  “Is that where you learned to ride?”

  “I’ve always loved horses,” she said. He wondered if she’d dodged his question on purpose. He’d never seen a woman ride like that. She’d obviously ridden more than just at summer camp.

  She slid her hot dog off the stick directly into a bun. He watched her lather the dog with ketchup, then squeeze relish onto it. She took a big bite, closing her eyes as she chewed, making an “Mmm” sound.

  He couldn’t help but smile watching her. In the firelight she was adorable, the light sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks and nose as golden as her brown eyes. He reminded himself just who he was sharing his meal with.

  She swallowed a bite and settled her gaze on him across the fire. “You can’t turn me in.”

  He gave her a look that said he could and would. “What did y
ou think was going to happen after everything you’ve done?”

  “Trust me, I have my reasons,” she said. “Help me and I promise you won’t regret it.”

  “I already regret it.”

  “Please.” The word came out a whisper.

  “Save your breath,” he said as he speared a hot dog and stuck it directly into the flames knowing it would burn on the outside. He didn’t have the patience to cook his the way she did. He told himself he liked ’em burned.

  She watched in horrified amusement as his hot dog caught fire, quickly changing her expression when he shot her a look. She’d taken off her black stocking cap and held it by the fingertips of one hand. Her dark hair tumbled in a cascade of loose curls, shiny black in the firelight, down around her shoulders.

  She seemed smaller to him. Not the strong, determined woman he knew her to be. She rose and walked to the edge of the mountainside, her back to him. She seemed deep in thought, but he knew she could just as easily be plotting how to get away from him. There was no doubt that she wasn’t finished with Mason VanHorn. Clearly the woman had a death wish.

  He pulled his burnt hot dog from the fire and rested the stick against a rock. “You might as well make yourself at home. We’re not going anywhere until daylight,” he called to her.

  She turned slowly and came back to warm her hands over the fire, her gaze on the fire, not him. “You don’t understand.”

  “We can agree on that.” He picked up the stick with the burnt hot dog, burning his fingers as he pulled off the wiener and dropped it into a bun.

  “There are some papers I know he’s hidden in the ranch house,” she said. “I have to find them.”

  “Weren’t they in the safe?” he asked, taking a bite of his hot dog.

  She shook her head. “The safe was empty.”

  He chewed for a moment, watching her, then swallowed. “You just happened to have the combination.”

  “Men his age change the combination a lot and have to keep the numbers some place they can find them. I found them.”

  He took another bite before asking, “If these papers are that incriminating, why wouldn’t he have already destroyed them?”