Love Under Two Wildcatters (24 page)

She’d worked hard whipping it into shape, using money she’d earned herself. Soon, she hoped to refurbish the small barn. Then she’d see about getting a few cows and raising horses.

“It’s all ready to be painted, I see,” her mother said.

Susan pulled her car to a stop in front of the house. “Yes.” Thinking of that fact, she recalled the afternoon Colt and Ryder had asked her to come down the ladder and then spanked her. She felt her face color and hoped her mother didn’t notice.

“I’m not going to ask you what you just thought about to make you blush,” Bernice said. She shut the car door and walked to the back of the car.

“Good, because I’m not going to tell you.” Yes, she could talk to her mother about anything, but there were some things she thought she’d just keep to herself.

Susan led the way into the house, setting her paint cans down beside the door.

“Oh, I love this hardwood. Is it the original?”

Susan beamed. “Can you imagine some idiot laid linoleum over top of it?” She led the way back toward the kitchen, admiring the freshly refurbished hardwood that went from the front door to the kitchen.

“It could very well be that linoleum protected the floor until you could come and rescue it. Oh, and I love the way those granite counters turned out!”

Susan shook her head at her mother’s observation. She had to admit she hadn’t thought of it that way.

“The granite was hugely expensive, but when I saw the counters Steven and Matt put in at the ranch house, I knew I had to have it.”

“I’ve been thinking of asking your fathers to redo my kitchen,” Bernice admitted. “Aside from the benefit of giving me a shiny new work area, it would keep them occupied for a while. I swear, this retirement—where they’ve both decided to help me with all I do—is proving to be a challenge for me.”

“The dads need a hobby,” Susan announced.

“Don’t I know it,” her mother agreed. “But I hate to suggest it to them. They’re so darn proud of themselves for learning to be…well, to be
housewives
.”

Susan laughed because her mother’s choice of wording was perfect.

A knock sounded on the front door. Susan frowned because she wasn’t expecting anyone and family usually just came right in. Her mother raised her eyebrows, so Susan said, “Likely a salesman or a lost tourist.”

She walked down the hall, thinking about just what sort of hobby her fathers could take up. She actually had an idea forming in the back of her mind but wanted to think about it more before she mentioned anything to her mother.

Susan opened the door wide and felt her smile fade.

The man standing on her stoop wore a beige Stetson, a tan western suit, and a neat bolo tie of dark brown. Behind him, gleaming in the sun, a shiny white Cadillac stood, driver’s door open, engine still running. What snagged and held her attention, however, was the crazed, almost feverish, light in the man’s eyes.

That and the twelve gauge shotgun he had pointed at her face.

* * * *

“Which of the two of you is the oldest?”

Colt raised one eyebrow. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected when Caleb had ushered him off to the library, alone, to have a look at some family heirlooms. The question did surprise him, but there was no reason not to answer the man.

“Between Ryder and me? I’m four months older.”

“Thought so. It’s in the way the two of you react to each other.” He said nothing more, just handed Colt what looked like a leather bound book.

“That’s the journal of Joshua Benedict. It’s a family tradition that the men in the family—or coming into the family—get to read that. His twin, Caleb—I’m named for him—wasn’t much for sitting down and writing things out. That Caleb was the oldest, too, by minutes.”

When Caleb said “coming into the family” it sounded to Colt as if he’d been asked his intentions. “I’m not sure I’m good enough for your daughter, Mr. Benedict. Or good enough to be a father. Bad blood.”

Caleb raised one eyebrow. “Is that a fact? You think a man is limited to his antecedents? That just because your father lit out before you were born and your mother failed to do right by you, this cripples you?”

It was Colt’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “You investigated me?”

“Hell, man, I’m a cop. You bet your ass I investigated the two of you. The moment my youngest son confessed what he and his brother had done. Damn fools, will they never understand women?”

Colt felt one corner of his mouth try to work its way into a smile. “Maybe you could tell me just what it was they did, sir. At the time, Ryder and I thought they…um…more or less gave us the green light to romance your daughter. If she was interested in us, of course. But now I’m not so sure.”

“My younger sons are smart when it comes to business, but they have a lot to learn about women. Seems they pointed you both in her direction because you met what she’d confessed she wanted. Men made in the mold of her forebears, and like her fathers and uncles. Men unafraid to take charge. Josh and Alex thought she didn’t know her own mind and had no idea what she was asking for would be like in reality. They thought she’d send you both packing.”

“No wonder she was ticked at them,” Colt said.

“Susie has a temper. I’m amazed she didn’t have at them.”

“Likely in deference to us. We were in San Angelo at the time.”

Caleb took the journal back. “I recall one time, a few years back, running into Murph and having a drink with him. He told me then about his boys. I think you’ve both got what it takes to make a family—if that’s what you want to do. It won’t be easy, of course. But it’ll be worth it,” Caleb said.

“Susan’s worth it.” The words came because he wanted Caleb Benedict to know that.

The older man nodded. “The oldest becomes the legal husband. Then there’s a family ceremony recognizing the three of you as mated. In Susan’s eyes, and in the eyes of the family, you’ll both be her husbands. If you decide to marry her.”

Caleb led the way back into the dining room and left him with Ryder and Jonathan while he went to make fresh coffee. Colt looked at his watch. Susan and her mother had been gone for more than a half hour. He felt restless and edgy.
Likely because I’m not used to just sitting around and doing nothing.

He pulled out his cell phone and called the hospital in San Angelo to check on Mike. Colt grinned as Nancy answered the man’s phone and how, with Mike grumbling in the background, she complained about the old man’s intractability and refusal to do as he was told. He wondered if that romance was fizzling out before it ever truly got started.

“How’s Mike doing?” Caleb brought a fresh pot of coffee and set it on the table.

“Argumentative,” Colt said.

Ryder laughed. “He must be feeling better.”

“With that busted leg, he’s going to have a few challenges when he gets out of the hospital,” Caleb said. He nodded to his brother. “Jon got thrown from his horse once and ended up with a compound fracture.”

“Don’t remind me,” Jonathan said. “They let me out of the hospital, but it was weeks before I could get around on my own. Wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“One of the things he was being argumentative about,” Colt said, “was the suggestion that we hire a nurse for him. He says he doesn’t need one, but honest to God, his house in El Paso isn’t set up for a man in a wheelchair—which is what he’s going to be for a few weeks once he’s out of the hospital.”

“I’ll give him a call later,” Caleb said. “Maybe he’d like to come and visit.”

“We’d really appreciate that,” Ryder said.

Colt looked at his watch. It had been forty-five minutes she’d been gone. “I don’t care if she accuses me of worrying,” Colt said. He punched in her number and listened to it ring. He counted them, and when he reached ten, he pulled back the phone to look at the display, checking that he dialed the right number. He had.

“No answer.”

“Huh.” Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out his own cell phone. Colt figured he was calling his wife. The man didn’t have to say he wasn’t getting an answer. It was on his face.

“That’s damned odd. Bernie always answers.”

Colt had a very bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He looked at Ryder, who nodded, indicating that he felt the same way. “Something’s wrong.”

“They only went to town,” Caleb said. He dialed another number, and this one was answered right away.

“Matt? It’s dad. Have a look around town for your mother and Susie, would you, please? They’re not answering…they what? Okay, thanks.” Caleb disconnected the call and frowned. “Matt says he saw them drive by about twenty-five minutes ago. He thought they were heading out to Susie’s ranch.”

That bad feeling turned into certain dread. “Aw, fuck.” He didn’t say another word, just rushed out of the house and headed for his Buick, Ryder by his side.

He had the key in the ignition before he realized that the Benedict men had gotten into the backseat.

“Seat belts,” Colt snapped.

“Haul ass,” Caleb replied.

Chapter 20

Susan had one second to be scared out of her wits. Then she slammed the door, threw the deadbolt, and hit the floor.

A shotgun blast ate a chunk out of her door.

“Susan!”

Her mother’s scream chilled her. She didn’t want her coming out of the kitchen, down the hall. “Mom, get down!” Susan had rolled to the right of the door, toward her front hall closet. She ran the contents of the closet through her memory. Nothing in there to use as a weapon except an umbrella.

From outside, she heard the pumping of the shotgun. Her gaze flicked to the door, noting the hole in the middle of it, at about the same place her face would be if she stood next to it. Likely his next shot would be aimed at the doorknob.

“My God, Susan, what…” She looked down the hall and could see her mother huddling under the kitchen table, her head just visible. A quick glance assured her the back door was locked.

If that madman came around back, her mother would be a sitting duck.

“I think it’s that bastard, Morton Barnes. Call for help!”

“Now you listen here, missy!” A disembodied voice yelled through the door. A second shotgun blast hit almost exactly where the first one had. “There’s no reason to be calling me names!”

No reason to call him names? Was he crazy
? “Are you crazy, you son of a bitch? You’re shooting up my house!”

“You blame those no-account roughnecks you been keeping time with for that, missy!”

Susan heard another pump. She closed her eyes so she could envision the gun. That
had
been a twelve gauge, which meant likely a seven shot magazine. If he fired again, he’d have four shots left.

“Now, you send those bastards out here so they can face me like real men!” He fired again, and the hole was so big now that, if he wanted to, he could reach in and open the door—or reach in and kill her.

“No one’s here but me and my mother, you crazy bastard!” She tried to remember everything she’d heard Colt and Ryder say about the man. A few details came to her. Mainly that he was arrogant and a snob. That and his last words told her what to say. “Pretty big man yourself shooting at two defenseless women, aren’t you!”

Her thoughts raced. Where the hell did she put that handgun her father had given her last year for Christmas? She didn’t use it often, but being a cop’s daughter and a Texan, she sure as hell knew how to use it.

Could she kill a man?

Susan had never considered the possibility. The closest thing she’d come close to killing was that wild dog that had been rooting around back in her garbage last week. The damn thing had scared the shit out of her with all the noise it had made before she’d looked out the back door and seen it was just a dog.

And then she’d set the gun on the counter and made herself some tea. What had she done with it next? Taken it back upstairs? Or…

“I know them bastards are in there! Just like I know they’ve been sniffing ‘round you so as to get that contract with your brothers. No other reason a company as big as Benedict Oil would take up with those two bastard no-accounts otherwise!”

“I told you, they’re not here!”