Desert Heat (4 page)

The colonel was Thaddeus Howard, producer of Colonel Howard’s Wild West Show. Patience read on, beginning to feel as if she were getting to know Addie Holmes. She took some notes and read some more. As she set the pen back down on the Formica-topped table, a page fluttered out from farther back in the book.

Patience’s eye caught on the writing as she bent to pick it up.

Patience’s skin crawled as images of Tyler Stanfield crept into her head. It was silly. The writing was nearly a hundred years old. The entries didn’t have the least similarity to what had happened to her. Still, she searched through the journal, trying to find the spot where the page had come loose, but none of them were numbered. She couldn’t help wondering who the man was and what had happened, and started reading madly again.

She read for another half hour, but couldn’t figure out where the page fit in the journal and she refused to spoil the fun of getting to know her grandmother by leaping way ahead. Then Shari showed up and it was time to get over to the rodeo grounds. Reluctantly, Patience set the journal and her glasses aside and went to put in her contact lenses.

She wondered if Sam Starling would reappear in the pages, or if perhaps he was the man Adelaide Holmes had begun to fear.

A hot Texas sun beat down, the temperature lessened only by a few clouds drifting overhead. In the distance, ripples of heat rose over the asphalt highway that stretched from the rodeo grounds off toward the horizon. Patience walked into the contestants’ area just as the afternoon performance began.

“Ladies and gentlemen, will you please rise for the national anthem.” Cowboys paused where they stood, each removing his hat and placing it over his heart. It was the usual flag-waving, patriotic opening and it never failed to bring a lump to Patience’s throat.

Shari had told her that Dallas was entered in the calf roping and she was curious to watch him perform. To her chagrin, he looked as good swinging a loop from the back of a galloping horse as he did riding a bronc. The calf shot out of the chute full speed and Lobo bolted after it. Dallas’s rope sailed out, floated down over the head of the calf, then Lobo’s rein jerked to a halt. The calf hit the end of the rope and swung around to face him. Dallas was off the horse before it came to a sliding stop and raced down the rope.

He downed the calf, jerked the pigging string out of his mouth, gripped and tied three of the animal’s feet, then threw up his hands to signal his finish. All the while, the palomino quarter horse worked with precision to keep the calf in place.

Dallas’s time was good, but not good enough to win. He walked back to his horse, slid his boot into the stirrup, and swung into the saddle. As he rode out of the arena, Patience noticed the scowl on his face.

The rest of the rodeo rushed past. During the bull riding, one of the cowboys took a bad spill, then the big Brahma gored him in the shoulder before the clowns could get him to safety. The ambulance hauled him away covered in blood, but it looked as if he were going to be all right.

She was tired by the time the afternoon ended. She returned to the trailer to find Wes McCauley standing next to her door. She had dodged his invitation to Enchanted Rock. This time he asked her out to supper. Wes was an attractive man, in a big, beefy sort of way. She told herself she would have a good time, but in the end she refused, thinking of Tyler Stanfield and her rotten luck with men.

Shari arrived a few minutes later, disappointed with her race and a little disheartened. They decided to wait until morning when both of them were rested before they set off on the long drive to New Mexico. According to Shari, Dallas would also be getting an early morning start.

“He won’t be coming to Clovis. He’s flying up to Canada for a couple of big-money rodeos in Alberta, one in Innisfail and the other in a place called Ponoka. Stormy’s meeting up with him again in Silver Springs.”

Shari was going out to dinner with Stormy and Dallas and asked Patience to come along but she declined, preferring to spend a little more time with the journal.

It was getting late. The night was clear and black, stars everywhere—nothing at all like the sky at night in Boston. She pulled on an oversize T-shirt Shari had loaned her that said
Every Woman Loves A Cowboy—Or Will
on the front, looking forward to crawling into her bunk and getting the chance to read. Charlie, the Circle C crew, and all the big livestock trucks had left right after the show.

Most of the contestants had also left, though Dallas’s fancy rig still sat parked in the RV area.

Patience had promised to check on Button before she went to bed so she slipped on a pair of Reeboks, checked to make sure no one was around, then ducked out of the trailer.

Tied next to Lobo and Stormy’s horse, Gus, Shari’s long-necked sorrel nickered softly at her approach. All of the horses munched flakes of hay and looked perfectly content. She gave them each a few pats, then headed back to the trailer, using the flashlight she kept beside the door to find her way. She had almost reached the RV when she heard it, kind of an eerie rattling sound.

Her pulse shot up. She remembered Shari’s warning to watch out for rattlesnakes this time of year and a chill slid down her spine. The rattle came again. The flashlight shook in her hand as she frantically searched the ground around her feet, but nothing appeared in the small yellow circle of light and she started to inch her way back toward the trailer.

Almost there,
she thought, her heart still pumping. Silently, she berated herself for not leaving on the light outside the door. Instead, just as she took another step, the rattle came again and something brushed against her leg.

Patience screamed and started running. She didn’t realize she had dropped the flashlight until she crashed headlong into an object in the path right in front of her.

“What’s your hurry?” Dallas drawled, his arms locking around her.

Patience swallowed, looking wildly back over her shoulder. “S-snake,” she said, her voice shaking nearly as much as her body. “I h-heard it rattle. It’s somewhere right around here.”

Dallas just laughed. “I don’t think so.”

For the first time it dawned on her she was wrapped around him like a warm tortilla, and color rushed into her cheeks. She released her arms from around his neck, still searching the ground for the snake, and Dallas let her go. He bent and picked up the light, shined it across the ground onto a long, odd-shaped animal completely covered in what looked like hammered silver armor.

“Armadillo,” he said. “They’re harmless. I guess they do sound a little like a rattlesnake.”

She felt like a fool. How was it he always managed to do that to her? “I thought you went to dinner with Shari and Stormy,” she said a bit defensively.

“I did. I caught a ride back with someone else.”

Jade Egan? she wondered. “I promised Shari I’d make a quick check on the horses, but they seem to be doing just fine. Since the snake wasn’t a snake, I think it’s time I went back in.”

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes running over her thin white T-shirt, which covered only a pair of white cotton panties. “Looks like you’re getting cold.”

It was hardly cold. In fact, it was pleasantly warm. But her nipples stood embarrassingly rigid beneath the cloth. She could still remember the way they felt pressed into Dallas’s chest.

She turned away from him, irritated by the knowing look in his eyes and his continuing perusal of her body.

“Good luck in Canada,” she said, only half meaning it.

He nodded. “See you in Silver Springs.”

Silver Springs.
As Patience climbed the stairs to the trailer, she thought of Dallas, felt the throb of desire in her breasts, and found herself wishing she were driving the opposite way.

Charlie Carson drove his white Dodge pickup through the gates of the Circle C Ranch. He’d missed Annie like the devil, and with all the trouble he’d been having, damn, it felt good to be home.

He drove along the tree-lined lane leading up to the ranch house, a two-story white-framed building with porches on all four sides. Dark green shutters hung at the windows and three redbrick chimneys stuck out of the roof. The original house had been built sometime early in the century but he and Annie had remodeled and expanded the place over the years.

He relaxed a little at the welcome sight and smiled at the horses galloping beside the truck as he drove along the fence line, the small herd splashing through the stream that cut through the pasture up ahead.

He reached the house and stepped on the brake, throwing up a cloud of dust. Normally, Annie would have cautioned him to drive more slowly, but today she just shoved open the screen door and ran toward him. Charlie climbed out of the pickup and the moment he reached her, she rushed into his arms.

“I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me, too, honey.” He held her a moment, thinking that she felt a little thinner than she had before he’d left. She knew he’d been having problems. She was worried, same as he was.

“Come on in. I’ll fix you something to eat. You’re probably half starved.”

He wasn’t really hungry but he loved the way she fussed over him. Fact was, he loved darn near everything about her.

She poured him a cup of thick black coffee, set it down on the kitchen table in front of him, then started scurrying around, opening the fridge, taking out the fixin’s to make him a roast beef sandwich.

“Any more trouble?” she asked. She was a slender woman with iron gray hair, but at sixty, she looked years younger. And she had always been pretty.

Charlie sighed. “One of the trucks broke down on the road on the way out of Llano. Had to call a tow truck. Didn’t take long to fix it, but it wasn’t cheap.”

“Seems like if it isn’t one thing lately, it’s another. But those things happen, I guess.”

“We been lucky over the years. I’d say we’ve had less trouble than most folks. I guess things just kinda started pilin’ up.”

“I suppose.”

“How things been goin’ here?”

Annie set a big Dagwood sandwich down in front of him made with homemade bread and piled with thin-sliced roast beef, then sat down in the chair next to his. “To tell you the truth, we been havin’ a little trouble of our own.”

He set the sandwich back on his plate without taking a bite. “What kinda trouble?”

“Some of the cattle’s come up missing. Maybe a dozen head. I called Sheriff Mills. He’s lookin’ into it.”

The sandwich sat untouched on his plate. Whatever small appetite he’d had was now completely gone. “A dozen, you say?”

“That’s what Ben says.” Ben Landers was his foreman, had been for nearly twenty years.

“I’ll talk to him, then drive over and see the sheriff this afternoon. Maybe he’s found out who took ’em.”

Annie stood up and walked behind him, leaned over and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Folks have problems, Charlie. Like you said, we’ve had less than our share.”

He caught hold of her hands, kissed the back of each one. “You and me, we’re good at solving problems. We’ll get through these, just like we always have.”

Annie nodded, straightened away from him. “Tell me about our boy. How’s Dallas?”

Charlie grinned. The man he and Annie had raised as a son was his pride and his favorite subject. Charlie launched into a replay of Dallas’s last few rides and for a while his problems were forgotten.

Charlie just wished he could bury them for good.

Dallas kicked ass in Alberta. He drew a horse named Five Minutes to Midnight, a big black, Finals horse, scored ninety points and took home the purse, a fat one in Innisfail, one of the top pro rodeos around.

Then he’d called Charlie in Texas to tell him the good news, and the moment he had heard his uncle’s voice he had known that something was wrong. Under threat of torture, Charlie had finally told him about the breakdown on the road and the stolen Circle C cattle. Whoever had done it hadn’t taken many head, but Dallas knew that along with everything else, it was badly disheartening to Charlie.

And it bothered the hell out of Dallas. He wished he could be there to help

In Ponoka, he drew a good bucker, lost his concentration and landed facedown in the dirt. It hadn’t happened to him in a while. Maybe it was good for him, humble him a little and get him back on track.

After the rodeo, a sassy little redhead he remembered from the year before had invited him over to her place for a drink. He hadn’t really wanted to go, but his pride was bruised and he was worried about Charlie. He figured maybe some hot, no-strings sex would help him forget for a while.

Debbie—he thought that was her name—seemed to be up for the idea. Sitting on the sofa in the living room of her apartment, he watched her peel off her clothes.

“Come on, cowboy.” She tugged him to his feet. “Let’s go into the bedroom. I’ve always had a secret yen to make love to a guy wearing only his hat and boots.”

Somehow the notion annoyed him. Still, he let her drag him into the bedroom and strip away his clothes. It didn’t take long to get in the mood. He hauled her down on the bed and came up over her, parted her legs and drove himself inside her.

He should have gone slower. Usually, he prided himself in giving a woman the same pleasure he took for himself, but lately he’d had it with women who seemed to be using him even more than he was using them. The whole one-night stand thing was starting to lose its appeal. He found himself wanting a little of the closeness Stormy had found with Shari but he couldn’t afford that kind of attachment. Not at this point in his life, at any rate.

Dallas had goals, plans, dreams. Someday he wanted to own a ranch like the Circle C. From the day he’d quit college and started full time into professional rodeo, he had known exactly what he was after. Since then, he had won a lot of money and saved a good deal. In five or six years, he’d have enough to buy his ranch and retire from the sport—assuming he didn’t get hurt.

In the meantime, he would settle for what he had with Darlene, or Debbie, or whatever her name was. Pound into her until he found release, then get up and get the hell out of Dodge. He would leave commitment to guys like Stormy, guys who expected a whole lot less out of life than he did.

He thought of his friend as he got off the little commuter plane that landed in Silver Springs. Inside the terminal, Dallas recognized Stormy’s lean, smiling face, lanky build, and slightly bowlegged walk coming down the concourse toward the gate.

“Hey, buddy!” Stormy slapped him on the shoulder. “Glad to have you back.” They shook hands and started for the baggage claim to pick up Dallas’s gear, including the bronc saddle he felt naked without. He always hated to check it, but when he flew commercial, he didn’t have much choice.

“I heard you kicked butt,” Stormy said with a grin.

“Yeah. I also got my butt kicked.”

Stormy laughed. “Vegas and Reno are coming up. You can make up for it in Nevada.”

They picked up his bags and he settled into the passenger side of his truck while Stormy slid into the seat behind the wheel.

“How’s Lobo?” Dallas asked once they were headed for the rodeo grounds.

“Pouting because you’ve been gone. He’ll be glad to see you.”

His horse would be glad to see him. That was something, he guessed. An image of Patience Sinclair popped into his head. Why, he had no idea, since she was one person who wouldn’t be the least bit glad he was back. During his time in Canada, he had tried to put her out of his mind, but thoughts of her kept creeping in. He’d thought of her even when he was in bed with Debbie, which really pissed him off.

Patience was hardly his type. He liked his women hot and wild—the exact opposite of P.J. Sinclair. Or maybe she was just playing hard to get. Still, as he turned off the engine and climbed out of the truck, he found himself looking for her little white trailer.

And the fact that he was irritated the hell out of him.

“Admit it—you’re attracted to him.” Sitting in the trailer, Shari shoved away her paper plate, crowded with bones from a Kentucky Fried Chicken supper. The Clovis Rodeo had ended last night. Today they were parked in the field outside the arena in the town of Silver Springs.

“That’s ridiculous. We’ve been oil and water since the day we met.”

“Sometimes it starts out that way.”

“Is that what happened with you and Stormy?”

Shari shook her head. She had tied back her curly red hair and small gold earrings glittered in her ears. “Me and Stormy…we were attracted right off. The problem is I’ve commitments and so does he and they don’t fit together very well. Right now we’re having fun, getting to travel together more than we normally would. We haven’t…you know.” Her cheeks turned a little pink. “Not all the way, at least. We agreed just to let things go for a while and see where they lead.”

“Well, at least the two of you have things in common. Similar lifestyles, similar interests. Dallas and I—think about it. In the fall, I start a teaching job as an assistant professor. Dallas is…Dallas is a cowboy.”

Shari grinned. “The World Champion All-Around Cowboy.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter what he is. Dallas isn’t interested in me and I’m not interested in him.”

Which was good because he had avoided her ever since his arrival in Silver Springs and she had made a point of avoiding him.

He was nowhere to be seen when the rodeo was over late that night. He’d been bucked off the horse he had drawn, then in the calf roping, he had broken the barrier—the string that marked the head start the calf was given—which cost him a ten-second penalty and any chance of landing in the money. He had obviously gone off to lick his wounds and she told herself she didn’t care.

Everyone was tired after the evening performance, but it was Friday night and Shari and Stormy wanted to go out dancing. They refused to let her stay home.

“You came here to learn about rodeo,” Shari said. “Well, what we do after the perf is an important part of the life you’re writing about.”

True enough. And part of her really did want to go, even if she couldn’t dance the Texas two-step.

The sign above the door read The High Desert Saloon and the parking lot was so full of cars Stormy had trouble finding a place to park Dallas’s pickup. There had to be some secret code she hadn’t yet figured out because all the contestants seemed to know where the local hot spot was in each town.

The bar was buzzing, packed to the rafters when they walked in. A lot of the Silver Springs riders lived within driving distance, which meant a number of Hispanic and Indian cowboys were competing. One of the guys she had met was extremely good-looking, a bareback rider named Blue Cody who was part Navajo, with black hair and dark eyes and incredible cheekbones. Shari had introduced them and Patience noticed him tonight as they pushed through the doors of the saloon and wove their way up to the bar.

The place rang with a combination of honky-tonk, old-fashioned western music, hot country, and good ole rock and roll. In Boston, she never listened to country music, but Shari played it in the pickup whenever they were on the road. Patience had to admit she was beginning to enjoy it.

Especially here, in this loud, smoky, low-ceilinged bar that flashed with neon beer signs, had a big wooden dance floor overflowing with couples in cowboy clothes, and everyone laughing. From what she’d seen so far, most of the serious cowboys didn’t drink or party much until the rodeo was over, but those who were already out of the money or just wanted to have a good time showed up in the bar after the performance was over.

She found herself searching for Dallas, but Stormy had his truck, and besides, he would be riding tomorrow. It wasn’t likely he would be out on the town. Especially since he had done so poorly today. She didn’t believe he took many falls, at least not as hard as the one he had taken that afternoon. She hated to admit it, but it scared her to see him thrown into the fence then get up and rub his injured shoulder. He had picked up his hat a little stiffly then walked with his head down out of the arena.

But Shari had said he was fine, just a little bruised up and mad at himself for making some stupid mistake coming out of the chute.

Dallas wasn’t there, but Wes McCauley was and so was that Navajo cowboy, Blue Cody.

As Stormy shoved an icy bottle of beer into her hand, Blue came up to where she stood and pulled off his broad-brimmed black hat.

“Hey, P.J. How about a dance?”

She smiled. “I’d love to dance with you, Blue, but I’m afraid I don’t know how to do the two-step.”

Blue grinned. “No problem. I’ll teach you.”

She hesitated only an instant as Tyler’s face flashed in her mind, and she realized how paranoid she still was. Blue wasn’t Tyler and this was supposed to be an adventure. “All right—if you’re sure your feet can stand it.”

Blue took her hand and led her out on the floor. Fortunately, the song ended just then and the disk jockey started playing an old Rolling Stones rock song, “Jumpin’ Jack Flash,” so she didn’t have to try to learn anything new. It was fun dancing again, something she hadn’t done in years, and she found herself laughing, just like everyone else.

The dance ended and Wes McCauley stood waiting at the edge of the floor. The DJ started playing “Bubba Shot the Juke Box” and Wes dragged her out in the middle of the crowd, determined to teach her his version of the two-step. But the man’s feet were as big as his body and mostly he just whipped her around until her neck was sore and her feet black and blue. Patience was eternally grateful when the song came to an end.

She passed on the next cowboy who asked her, returned to the bar, and climbed up on the stool Stormy gave up for her. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this.”

Shari laughed. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

Patience sipped her beer. A slow song started, Garth Brooks, “Beaches of Cheyenne,” and she felt a tug on her arm.

“How ’bout a dance?” Dallas asked. He didn’t wait for an answer, just hauled her off the stool, across the room, and out onto the dance floor. Before Patience had time to prepare herself, she was wrapped in his arms.

God, he felt even better than he had the last time he had held her. He was wearing the same sexy cologne she had noticed in his truck and his dark, neatly trimmed hair teased her hand at the back of his neck. He was holding her so close she could feel the snaps on his western shirt, and it occurred to her she was following his lead as if they had danced together a hundred times.

He was a very good dancer—no surprise there. Dallas was good at whatever he did. The notion struck out of the blue—
he’s probably as good in bed as he is on the dance floor.

Sex with Dallas Kingman. It was a completely unexpected and totally unwanted thought—and a daunting one.

Dallas might be good in bed, but Patience was a complete and utter failure. She could still hear Tyler’s mocking words the day she had broken off with him, telling her what a terrible lover she was. Worst of all, as much as she disliked him, she was afraid it might be true.

“I didn’t think you’d be here,” she said to Dallas, forcing herself to smile.

“Why not?”

“You have to ride tomorrow.”

His dark brows pulled into a frown. “If I ride the way I did today, whether I come here or not won’t make a fiddler’s damn.” There was an odd cadence in his voice. For the first time, she realized that he had been drinking. More than just a little.

“You’re drunk.”

“So?”

“I don’t think you should be drinking when you have to ride. You might end up getting hurt.”

He drew back to look at her. “And I suppose you’d care.”

Patience glanced away. “Of course I’d care. I-I don’t like seeing anyone get hurt.”

Dallas stared down at her and something softened for a moment in his features. His body brushed hers as they danced. He tightened his hold and she found herself pressed nearly full length against him. When the dance ended, he eased her into the corner, but he didn’t let her go.

Dallas bent his head. “I’ve been thinking about you.” His warm breath feathered over her ear and it was difficult to concentrate. Then the hand at her waist slid down to her bottom and he pulled her even closer. “I’ve got something for you, honey. You want to find out what it is?”

Patience’s eyes flew wide. He was fully aroused and he wanted her to know it. He was looking at her as if she were a saucer of cream he meant to lap up, and at least a dozen people were staring at them.

Patience set her jaw. “I’ve got something for you, too,
honey.
” Jerking away from him, she drew back and slapped his face.

Dallas’s jaw dropped in disbelief. Patience turned and started walking, but Dallas caught her arm. “You know what you need,
P.J
? You need a good hard fucking and I’m just the guy to give you one.”

It was all she could do not to hit him again. Instead, she grit her teeth against the name she wanted to call him and walked away, grateful the music had started playing. By the time she reached the bar where Shari and Stormy sat, she was shaking. She’d been right about Dallas Kingman from the start. He was an arrogant jerk and she must have been crazy to feel the least bit of attraction for him.

“Anybody going back to the rodeo grounds?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

“I’ll take you,” Wes offered.

“No need for that.” Shari got up from the red vinyl bar stool. “We were just about to leave. There’s a rodeo tomorrow and both of us are planning to win.”

They left the bar and drove straight back to the rodeo grounds. If Shari or Stormy had seen what happened on the dance floor, they made no comment. At least not until they reached the trailer.