Cowboy PI (15 page)

As for Roark settled beside her…well, he was as quiet as Shep. From time to time, Samantha cast her gaze in his direction, watching him watch the others while he slowly, unconsciously flexed the fingers of the hand he had injured in the rodeo competition. She knew Roark was observing them, waiting for an interesting development that had yet to occur. It was a rare opportunity with the entire outfit assembled in one spot, a situation made possible by the two young men from town who’d been hired to take care of the herd for the evening.

But Samantha no longer cared about that opportunity. At the moment, as tired and dispirited as the others, all she longed for was the end of this dreary affair. But Dick wasn’t about to let his party die a quiet death.

“Hey,” he said, surging to his feet, “this is getting dull. It’s time to make happy.”

Producing a battery-powered radio from his saddlebag, he tuned into a station playing golden oldies. A loud and lively “Rocky Mountain High” issued from the speaker.

“Ah, this is more like it.” Leaning over, the good-natured horse wrangler extended a hand to Samantha. “Come on, Sam, dance with me.”

He was so enthusiastic about it that she didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. She permitted him to raise her to her feet and lead her onto the floor. In this case, the floor was the hard-packed earth of the level area out in front of the cabins.

“You having fun, Sam?” Dick asked her as he spun her around the clearing. “I’m having fun.”

“I’m having a fine time,” she lied.

Unruly blond hair swinging over his eyes, he turned his head to call out to the others. “Come on, the rest of you dance, too.”

Alex needed no further invitation. Springing to his feet, he hurried over to claim his own turn with Samantha. Dick surrendered her and went off to dance with Ramona.

Samantha didn’t like the eager flush on Alex’s face as he danced with her. Made bold by all the beer he’d consumed, he leaned toward her with a confession that was slightly slurred. “You are so beautiful, Sam. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Samantha sent a look of desperation in Roark’s direction, hoping for a timely rescue. All she got back was an amused expression that told her she was on her own. Damn him, why wasn’t he asking for that dance he had earlier promised he wanted to share with her? On the other hand, maybe it was just as well she wasn’t in his arms.

In the end, it was Ernie who saved her from needing to respond to Alex’s embarrassing admiration. He swaggered forward with the determined intention to cut in on his rival.

“My turn.”

Alex swung his head, scowling at him. “Go away. Sam doesn’t want to dance with you.”

“Who says?”

Afraid of a scene, Samantha swiftly intervened. “It’s all right, Alex. I’d like to dance with Ernie.”

Alex hesitated and then reluctantly left the field.

“He thinks I ain’t good enough to dance with you,” Ernie bitterly complained as he guided her in an awkward waltz around the clearing.

It was hard to argue with that when an impatient Alex hovered nearby, glowering at Ernie. In less than two minutes, he was back.

“You’ve had her long enough, Chacon.”

Ernie laughed, a sneer on his broad face. “Go away, college boy. She’s dancing with a man now.”

Oh, great, Samantha thought. They were both smashed on beer and ready to start shoving each other. If that happened, it would end up in some stupid slugging contest.

“Now look, you two, I don’t appreciate—”

“You’re asking for it, Chacon.”

“I am, huh?”

Samantha tensed, waiting for the fists to fly. But before that could happen, help arrived. The voice that addressed them was deep, calm, and meant business. “I don’t think you gentlemen want to take this any further. Do you?”

Alex and Ernie exchanged fierce glances before prudently deciding not to challenge the tall figure who confronted them so forcefully.

“Why don’t you boys go off to your corners for a little while?” Roark suggested. “Better still, help yourselves to that coffee Ramona brewed.
Lots
of it.”

The two men separated and obediently retreated. Roark, casual but authoritative, called over to the horse wrangler. “Dick, what do you say we trade the radio for some live music? Cappy, how about giving us ‘Shenandoah’ on that mouth organ of yours?”

Meant to soothe the savage beasts, Samantha thought as Dick turned off the radio and Cappy delivered a poignant but lulling “Shenandoah.” She could see the others at the
party visibly relax, relieved that Roark had so smoothly dealt with a tricky situation.

“I could have handled them, you know,” she said.

Eyebrows quirked, Roark looked offended. “What? You’re not going to tell me how grateful you are that the cavalry arrived in the nick of time?”

“Actually, I am glad you stepped in.”

“Then I think I deserve a dance as a reward.”

It was about time he got around to that. “I suppose it would be a shame to waste what Cappy is doing with that harmonica.”

“A damn shame.”

He held out his arms. She stepped into them willingly if not wisely. The sweet strains of “Shenandoah” wooed them as they moved slowly around the floor. Roark was silent while they waltzed. He didn’t have to talk. His body molded to hers said it all. And what it told her with its searing hardness was that she was making a mistake being in intimate contact again with this tall figure in boots, tight jeans that emphasized the muscles in his legs, and an open-neck Western shirt that revealed the pulse beating so tantalizingly in the hollow of his deeply tanned throat.

The garb of a cowboy. It reminded her of another cowboy she had once danced with this closely. Hank, whom she had loved and lost.

Needing to distract herself from the painful memories, to defuse all the unsettling emotions that Roark’s arms around her generated, Samantha eased the tightness of his embrace by drawing back far enough to permit conversation. It created a safe space between them while giving her an excuse to learn what she wanted to know, anyway.

“Were you able to talk to Shep?” she asked, keeping her voice low. “Did you learn what that meeting this afternoon was all about?”

If Roark guessed her interest had more than one motive, he gave no sign of it. “I asked him. His explanation was what I figured it would be. He told me he was getting
permission from a local rancher to water the herd and cross private land.”

“But wasn’t all that kind of thing secured in advance? Isn’t that what he told us back at the Morning Star Ranch?”

“He said this particular consent wasn’t clear. That he needed to make certain of it in person. Maybe he was lying, maybe not.”

Samantha glanced in the direction of the trail boss, unable to believe that the burdens of the drive would have him looking this unhappy. “And the others in the outfit?”

“What about them?”

“You’ve spent most of your time tonight just sitting there observing them. What were you looking for?”

“For one of them to be less cunning than he has been all along. To make some kind of slip that will tell us exactly who he is.”

Samantha stared at him. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I know just what I’m saying,” he said softly. “I’ve thought about it enough to be convinced that our man is right here in this outfit. And whoever it is, he’s determined the drive will fail. One way or another, he’ll prevent you from reaching the end of the trail.”

Samantha was startled by his grim certainty. Until now, she had been reluctant to seriously believe anyone in the outfit could be her enemy. It had to be some unknown person or persons who wanted her out of the way. A menace who’d managed so far to keep himself hidden from them. But if Roark was right…

Shuddering, she looked around, her gaze searching out each member of the company. A carefree Dick Brewster danced again with Ramona, who giggled over one of his jokes. Shep still looked preoccupied with whatever problem troubled him while Cappy, beside him, swayed happily from side to side, keeping time with the notes he coaxed from his mouth organ. On the other side of the fire,
standing safely apart from each other, Alex and Ernie sipped the coffee Roark had urged and idly watched the dancers.

It was incredible to suppose that any one of them wanted to harm her. Even the surly Ernie who, after all, was still the likeliest candidate.

Her lingering doubt must have been evident to Roark. Plain enough, anyway, for him to tell her earnestly, “They’re not all your friends, Samantha. One of them is ruthless, and sooner or later he’s going to strike again. The worst of it is, we can’t know when, where or how. But I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to sit by and just wait for it. I plan to use every opportunity I can to learn who this guy is and to defeat him.”

That wouldn’t be easy, Samantha thought. Not when Roark already had his hands full moving the cattle while protecting her throughout every hour of each day. He was so determined, though, that she believed he
would
conquer their enemy. But it frightened her that she could no longer deny the source of the danger, pretend it originated from a stranger.

“There is another choice,” he said, reading her fear. “You can still quit the drive, pull out now and save yourself from any further risk. No one would think any less of you.”

“
I
would think less of me.” She shook her head. “No, I wouldn’t do it back in San Antonio when you suggested it, and I won’t do it now. I
can’t.
”

He said nothing, but his arms tightened around her, bringing her close again to his solid length. She offered no resistance this time, knowing his action was a silent promise to safeguard her. His arms were a welcome refuge.

“I
WAS A DAMN FOOL
last night,” Alex apologized sheepishly to Samantha early the next morning. “Sorry for being out of line like that, Sam.”

The puppy was not only anxious to be forgiven, Roark
thought, he looked like he was suffering one enormous hangover in the bargain. Poor McKenzie.

If Ernie Chacon regretted his own performance, he made no effort to express it. He was as surly as ever as the outfit mounted up for their sixth day of the cattle drive.

Roark spared a last glance at the cabins as they headed out on the trail. No one, except Ramona, had spent the night in them. He had mixed emotions about that. He’d certainly entertained all the enticing possibilities of sleeping there with Samantha. On the other hand, that very tempting arrangement was something he was better off putting behind him.

He had to keep his libido under wraps, his mind clear, in order to focus on guarding Samantha. Admittedly, that was a problem. Whenever he checked on her, which was probably more often than necessary, he was immediately aware of how she looked as they rode side by side in their customary position at the rear of the herd.

Samantha might have no fondness for anything connected with ranching, but she was a vision in the saddle. He couldn’t keep himself from admiring all the little things about her that appealed to him so strongly. Like the wisps of warm-toned chestnut hair that escaped from her braid, the way she pushed her Stetson back when she lifted her face to the sun, the curve of her breasts in her denim shirt. Oh, yeah, especially her breasts. He wondered about those all the time, imagining them full and heavy in his hands.

It was much safer, though, if somewhat less satisfying, to admire what couldn’t get him into difficulty. Like all her inner qualities that, with each day, he found himself appreciating more and more. Especially the courage of her resolve to go on with the drive. Okay, so that wasn’t so wise. He would have preferred her safely back in Texas, but since that wasn’t going to happen, he had to remain alert and ready for trouble.

There was something else he had promised both himself and Samantha he was going to do: solve this damn puzzle.
To that end, he called Wendell again in Texas. He told his trainee about the theft of the photographs in the cabin and asked him to probe further into the backgrounds of the two men they’d pictured, as well as to send him copies of the photos that had been taken. There had to be a connection and an explanation somewhere.

Something else gnawed at him, demanding answers: the ravine back at the Walking W. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced it played a major role in the mystery. It frustrated him that he couldn’t visit the place himself. But he could do the next best thing and ask Samantha about it.

“Tell me about the ravine where Joe had his accident,” Roark urged her as they rode in the wake of the herd. “How familiar are you with the spot?”

“Enough to know there was nothing there to interest me. It’s just a dry, barren ravine. I seldom had occasion to visit it, not as remote as it is. Why do you keep focusing on it, Roark?”

“Because I’m convinced now that somebody
was
firing on your grandfather that day, and I think there had to be a good reason for that. There’s something about that ravine. I can feel it in my gut.”

“Like what? Roark, there are no hidden treasures there. You must know that part of Texas has no precious mineral deposits, no gold or oil. Nothing valuable like that.”

“All the same…”

Roark made a mental note to himself. The next time he spoke to Wendell, he was going to ask him to go back to the ravine. Request that he examine it again from end to end, take further photographs to send him. There had to be something there besides just rocks.

“I’
M WORRIED
,” Samantha confided to him during the midday break.

Roark was immediately attentive. “Something happen?”

“That’s just it. Nothing has. Haven’t you noticed? The sun is shining, we’re making good time on a level trail, and there hasn’t been a single problem with the longhorns, including Irma. It’s downright unnatural.”

“Are you telling me you miss them? All those calamities we dealt with?”

“It’s just making me nervous, that’s all. I keep wondering where the thunderstorms are and the stampedes or even a swarm or two of gnats.”

Roark chuckled, but he knew what she meant. There hadn’t been a single delay all morning. Their progress had been steady and easy. Maybe deceptively so.