The Tin Star (16 page)

Shit!
Jamie glanced away from the road for a second. Ethan had a hard set to his jaw and a half frown on his lips. Jamie had a bad feeling about this. What the hell was going on at home?

Ethan sighed. “All right, Bill, we’re only about fifteen minutes away. You guys get to work, and we’ll be there ASAP.” He shut the phone and clipped it back to his belt, then turned toward Jamie. “The fence in the west pasture is down. Bill and the boys are rounding up the cattle that got out. Hayden thinks the wire was cut.”

Jamie felt his heart sink. "Damn it!" It was probably his fault. Probably some macho idiot trying to teach the “fag” a lesson.

“Ah, Blue Eyes, don’t look like that. We don’t know what happened. You know as well as I do that cattle rustling still exists.” Ethan reached up and caressed his jaw. “Besides, it isn’t just about you anymore. I’m not going to advertise, but I damn sure won’t deny us or you.”

Jamie gulped and stared at Ethan. Damn, he was not going to get all mushy! He wasn’t. His eyes got a little watery, but he wasn’t crying. His glance shot back to the road.

“I ... I ... you’re mine, damn it. I’m not giving you up, and I’m certainly not ashamed of you, so I won’t hide it and act like I am.” Ethan took a deep breath, loud in the taut air inside the car. “I guess what I’m saying is that it’s no longer your problem -- it’s ours. Oh, hell, I guess it always was ours.” Ethan’s hand slid down his cheek and gripped his arm. “Hurry up and get home; we have cattle to look for.”

Jamie gratefully put his foot down on the pedal. He wasn’t sure who had the bigger hard-on from driving ninety miles an hour, him or Ethan. Ethan was already giving him shit about “paying an arm and a leg” to insure him to drive the Mustang, so he hadn’t gone much over the speed limit. And even then it was only at Ethan’s urging. They made it home in record time.

Jamie put the car in park and looked over at Ethan. “Damn, that was fun!”

“Yes, it was. You ready to listen to Bill bitch?”

“Yeah. It’s to be expected. I’m none too pleased myself with the prospect of rounding up cattle.”

Ethan got out of the car. “Not that. Because we bought a new car. He hates working on anything newer than 1990. Bitches about all the computers in them and such.”

Jamie chuckled and fell into step beside him, heading toward the barn. “Well, lucky for us, I am quite mechanically inclined. I don’t need Bill to work on it.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.” He grabbed his saddle, blanket, and bridle and headed out of the barn with Ethan just a few steps behind him, his own gear in hand. Jamie whistled for George, threw his blanket and saddle over the corral fence and climbed over.

Ethan followed. “Is there anything you can’t do?

“Nope.” Jamie grinned and waggled his eyebrows to remind Ethan what all it was he
could
do.

“Smug bastard.” Ethan smiled at him, then looked past him and beyond to where George was running toward them. “Spot! Get over here! I see you, you pain in the ass! Don’t you hide behind George!” Spot had pranced over to see where George was going, but as soon as the wily horse had spotted Ethan, he’d ducked back.

Jamie chuckled.

Ethan groaned.

“He has character, remember?”

“Kiss my ass, Jamie!”

* * * * *

Ethan stepped into the shower and let the water pour down his sore body. He was dead tired.

Thank God Bill and the boys had rounded up all but ten of the missing longhorns. Ed and Hayden had mended the fence, while he and Jamie had looked for the remaining cattle. It had taken the two of them three hours to find the remaining ten. Not too bad, but then again, not great either.

Ethan’s ass had fallen asleep an hour ago. The trip to San Antonio was about a four-hour drive there and back. Then he’d sat in the saddle for another three hours, which had managed to turn almost all of him numb.

He ducked his head back under the hot water. Damn! That felt good. He’d desperately wanted a shower for hours now. He’d also wanted Jamie to share it with him, but no such luck. Jamie was downstairs talking to the sheriff and cussing up a blue streak.

After finally getting all the cattle together again, they’d returned only to find one of the balers vandalized. Bill swore it probably had been like that when they’d left, they just hadn’t noticed. Jamie thought otherwise; he was convinced someone had waited for him and Ethan to ride out before they’d painted “faggot” across the machinery.

Bill had taken a real liking to Jamie and would do just about anything to keep him happy. Not that Ethan wouldn’t, but he didn’t believe in sheltering Jamie the way Bill did, at least aside from the truth of his birth. Bill had tried like hell to steer Jamie away from the baler when he’d noticed the bright red words spray-painted on the side. It hadn’t worked. Partly because he’d yelled, “Son of a bitch!” when he’d seen it, and partly from Hayden asking if it was “proof enough that the cattle getting’ loose was vandalism.” Ed had wisely kept his mouth shut. Bill had glared at them for a full minute before he’d finally gone in to call the sheriff.

Jamie and Hayden had been stalking around on the warpath, looking for more damage, when Ethan had finally gone up to the house. He figured between Jamie and Bill, someone could handle the sheriff.

A click sounded to his right, then Jamie rested his cool cheek on his back between his shoulder blades. Ethan heaved a sigh of relief. He was glad Jamie was here and not still brooding outside. “Hey, Blue Eyes. The sheriff gone?”

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy. Said to call if we have any more trouble. I know they all say that, but I think he meant it.” Jamie’s lips caressed his skin.

“Was it Sheriff Hunter? Or one of his deputies?”

“Hunter.”

“Ah. He did mean it, then.”

“Why do you say that?”

Ethan shrugged. “He’s a great guy. Besides that, I think he’s gay, too. I imagine he’ll be pretty sympathetic under the circumstances.”

Jamie turned him around. Those blue eyes were opened wide. “Really?” Then his dark brows drew together in a scowl. “How the hell do you know that? And why do
you
care?”

Huh. Interesting! Was Jamie jealous? He chuckled and wrapped his arms around Jamie, pulling him tightly against him. He dipped his head and kissed Jamie’s nose, then his chin, and finally his lips. “I don’t know for sure. It’s just a feeling. And I
don’t
care. You have nothing to worry about.”

Those pale peepers shot him a glare. A frown marred the sensual face. “I’m not jealous!”

Ethan smiled.

Jamie groaned. “Fine, maybe I was ... a little, but I’ve had a really screwed-up evening. I’m entitled to a bit of a mood.”

“Are you, now?” Ethan arched a brow.

Jamie shrugged, then began rubbing his rapidly firming cock against Ethan’s.

“Oh, yeah! Get under here.” He yanked Jamie under the spray. “And let’s wash you, then go to bed. I’m betting I know how to get you out of your mood.”

“Umm, are we going to play ‘ride ’em, cowboy’?”

Ethan chuckled. “Would that do it? Put you in a better mood?”

Jamie leaned up and kissed him. “It might, Cowboy.”

Between their kissing and petting, they somehow managed to get Jamie washed, then the two of them dried and into bed. Jamie was sliding down his body, kissing his way below, when a loud pop sounded.

Jamie’s head jerked up. “Was that a gunshot?”

Ethan didn’t think; he just reacted. He grabbed Jamie and rolled them off the bed and onto the floor. They landed under the bed with Jamie under him.

Three more loud pops sounded.

He looked down at Jamie, reassuring himself that he was fine and in one piece.

“Son of a bitch! That was most definitely gunfire!”

Chapter Twelve

“Jamie, you okay?”

Jamie blinked up at Ethan. Damn, the man had cat-like reflexes. He was still trying to figure out what had happened and why they were under the bed instead of on it, but Ethan had already assessed the situation and was demanding a report. What the fuck was going on? The dog was barking downstairs, but otherwise it was pretty quiet.

“Jamie! Answer me! Are you all right?” Ethan pushed himself up and started running his hands over whatever parts of Jamie he could reach.

Jamie gripped Ethan’s hands. “I'm fine. That wasn't really gunfire, was it?” He knew by the look on Ethan's face that he was wrong. Actually, he’d known after hearing the second shot, but he’d wanted Ethan to contradict him. He really, really didn’t want it to be gunfire.

“Yeah, baby, it was. Get to the phone and call the bunkhouse. Make sure everyone is okay, then call the sheriff. Fred, hush!” The barking ceased, and Ethan rolled off of him, then started scooting out from under the bed.

Jamie grabbed his arm. “Where in the hell are you going?”

“To get a rifle and shotgun.”

What the hell did he think he was going to do? “You aren't planning on going out there, are you?”

“The thought had occurred to me. But first, I need to make sure no one is just waiting for me to step out the door so they can shoot me.”

Oh, okay, yeah. So Ethan had already thought it through. “Get me some clothes and a weapon. I'm going with you.”

Ethan nodded and slid out.

Jamie followed. He flipped off the bedside lamp as Ethan turned off the bathroom light. Grabbing the phone, Jamie dialed the bunkhouse.

The phone was answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“Ed. Everyone okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good. Y’all?”

“We’re good. Call the sheriff. Ethan and I are going out to go have a look around.”

“’Kay. I’ll tell Bill not to shoot.”

Jamie rolled his eyes and hung up. Great, they were going to have to dodge bullets from Bill as well as the shooter.

“Here.” A pile of clothes landed in his lap, and then Ethan left the room.

Jamie mumbled, “Thanks,” then dressed in the dark. He got his boots on and went downstairs in search of Ethan. Fred met him at the bottom of the stairs. As he and the dog reached the office, Ethan was coming back out of it. From the dim light of the moon filtering through the curtains he could make out Ethan was dressed in all in black, as was he.

“The guys are all okay. Bill’s already out looking around.”

Ethan nodded and stopped in front of him and held up what looked like two rifles. “30/30 or twelve gauge?”

“Twelve gauge.”

Ethan handed it over, then stuffed something down the front of Jamie’s waistband.

Jamie started from the chill, then looked down.

“Here’s a .357; there’s one in the chamber, and the safety is on.” Ethan stuck a handgun in his waistband, as well. “I’m taking the .45. Try not to shoot Bill. I knew that old devil would already be outside checking the place over.”

He followed Ethan to the back door, Fred right behind him.

Ethan leaned against the wall, pulled the curtain aside just a bit and peered out. He stayed motionless for several seconds, just watching. “I don’t see any movement. Of course, there won’t be if it’s a sniper, eh?”

“Gee, that’s reassuring. You go first.”

Ethan chuckled and glanced over at him. “I’d planned on it. Follow me out and get to some cover as soon as possible.” He looked down at Fred. “Stay.”

Jamie swallowed and nodded. He was not looking forward to this. What if Ethan got shot? What if
he
did?

Ethan opened the door and crept out.

Fred whined, but stayed where she was told.

Shit, here goes nothing.
He followed. No shots so far. That was good. He closed the door and quickly went the opposite direction from Ethan. He searched for several minutes without finding anything.

About ten minutes into his hunt, a figure stepped out of the shadows with some sort of rifle. “Y’all can come on out. I’ve looked; they’re long gone.”

“Damn it! Bill, you old fool!” Jamie sure hoped to hell that Bill was right, ’cause if he wasn’t, they’d shoot the old goat any minute now. What was he thinking to step out in the open like that?

After a few more minutes, no one had shot Bill, and Ethan walked out into the open, too. Jamie wasn’t about to leave his cowboy out there by himself. The more targets there were, the less likely Ethan was to get shot. So he stepped away from the barn wall and joined them as well. “Did anyone find anything?”

Bill shuffled his feet and looked everywhere but at him and Ethan.

Ethan cleared his throat.

Bill glanced up. “Ed called the sheriff; he should be here any minute.”

Jamie couldn’t decide whether to roll his eyes at the evasion or to kick Bill in the shins. “Spill it, Bill! What did you find?”

Bill turned back to Ethan, who nodded.

“They shot your truck, Jamie.”

He was stunned. “Beg pardon?”

“Yup. I don’t have a good feeling about this. Whoever did it sure don’t like our Jamie. Y’all better come take a look.” Bill walked off, leaving Ethan and Jamie to follow.

“Son of a bitch!” Ethan abruptly stopped in front of him.

Jamie stepped around Ethan to see how bad it was. He expected a few blown tires or maybe a shot to the engine. What he saw was the windshield spider-webbed right where his head usually was when he drove it.
Damn!

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I think Bill is right. Whoever did this don’t like me much. Any guess as to who that could be?”

Ethan walked around to the driver’s side of the truck. He shook his head, then looked up, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “I’ll kill that son of a bitch if --”

The sheriff pulled into the drive, lights flashing. He stepped out of the car, gun drawn.

Ethan held up his rifle. “It’s just us, Gray.”

Sheriff Grayson Hunter put away his sidearm, then came toward them. “You find anything?”

Ethan dropped his rifle, pointing it down. “Just this.” He indicated Jamie’s truck.

The sheriff’s brow wrinkled as he walked around and surveyed the damaged windshield. “Looks pretty damned personal, Jamie. You piss off anybody lately besides your daddy?”

Jamie sighed. “Your guess is as good as mine. I imagine there are a lot of people who don’t want me here. Cowboys damn near dive off the sidewalk when I go to town nowadays. But no one has been outright hostile ... other than my father and Tom Cooke. Well, and Carl and Jeff. Ethan’s ex-employees.”