The Reluctant Rancher~Badlands (Contemporary Western Romantic Suspense) (16 page)

E.J. refused to flinch. “And that would get you thrown in jail for assault. I can ass
ure you I would press charges.”

Leon
leaned close to him, glowering.

E.J. could smell
the sweat and stink of the man.

“I’ll just bet you would, you little pussy.” He made a swipe at the check and folded it in two. “You can’t run this ranch without me. I’ll give you a week before you come
beggin’ me to come back.” He hocked up a wad of something from the back of his throat and spat close to E.J.’s boot.

E.J. eyed him with distaste. “You need to clear your stuff out of the bunkhouse
. And I’ll take your keys now.”

Leon’s reddened face seemed to swell with anger.
“Sure thing.” He reached for the key ring dangling from his belt loop and removed one key, which appeared to be to his vehicle. “I’ll clear the bunkhouse and be on my way. You can go straight to hell, you jackass.”

An involun
tary grin tweaked E,J.’s mouth.

“Are you laughing at me, you little pussy?” Leon’s back bowed and both fists clenched, making him appear twice his size.

“No,” E.J. said. “You’re not the first person to call me a jackass. That’s all.”

Leon snorted. “I sure as hell won’t be the last.” He turned and strode off the porch, slamming the door when he got in his pickup and gunning the motor. He made a
u-turn and sped off in the direction of the bunkhouse.

E.J. blew out a deep breath. He hadn’t thought he would come through that confrontation
unbloodied. He gazed at the handful of keys in his hand.
Hell, I don’t even know what these keys open.

He went inside, where Jenna waited for
him.

“How did it go?” she asked.

“I’m still alive,” he said.

“Did he leave?”

“He’s clearing his things out of the bunkhouse.”

“Maybe you should have gone with him to make sure he doesn’t take anything.”

E.J. shook his head. “That guy needs some space. I don’t even care if he takes the whole damned bunkhouse with him, as long as he leaves. That is one scary dude.”

Jenna moistened her lips. “I thought of someone who might be willing to come fill in for a while. He’s got his own place, but he’s been known to hire on at the other ranches from time to time.”

“Great,” E.J. said. “I’d appreciate any suggestions. You realize, I know nothing about the actual running of the ranch.”

She gave him a little grin. “Well, hitch up your britches, Mr. Kincaid. You have a ranch to run.”

~*~

Sara Beth lay on top of the covers, fully clothed. Dr. Cami had suggested she might like to rest for a while, and Sara Beth had gone complacently to the room sh
e now shared with her daughter.

As she was gathering her infant and preparing to go upstairs, she heard Mr. Breck call the funeral home. He instructed the funeral director to take charge of the body as soon as th
e sheriff’s office released it.

The body
…Sara Beth almost lost her grip on the baby.
That’s all Nick is now…the body.

She plodded heavily to the top of the stairs and turned, momentarily confused as to which room she should enter. All the doors were alike. All tall and white with old fashioned hinges and the knobs were either faceted glass or ornate brass, darkened with age. She opened one door and stared
into another guest room, this one fitted with a small mahogany writing desk. She closed the door hurriedly, not wanting to be caught poking into things that were none of her business. The next room on the same side of the hall was the correct one. A flood of relief washed through her. She didn’t like the feeling of being lost, of not being able to find her way home.
But just where is home, now?

She changed Cami Lynn’s diaper and arranged her in her crib. “At least I know where you belong, young lady.  Right here with me.” She stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed.
“Now if I could just figure out where I belong.” She slipped out of her shoes and stretched out on top of the coverlet, staring up at the ceiling with her hands clutched together.

She reflected on how little she had known about Nick when they’d met in Fort Worth, her home town. She had been a freshman in college, when Nick Jessup c
ame sauntering into the coffee shop in which she’d been working part-time. His jovial manner and flirtations had swept the eighteen-year-old right off her feet.

She smiled, thinking how cut
e he had been when he proposed.

Then she pressed her lips together when she recalled how upset her parents had been. That was just before her mother had fallen ill and died. She knew her father still blamed her for breaking her mother’s heart. He hadn’t gotten in touch with her since the funeral. Swallowing hard, she brushed a tear away as it escaped the corner of her eye and trickled its way down
the side of her temple and into her hairline. “Sorry, Mama,” she whispered.

~*~

Jenna had insisted E.J. come outside with her to supervise Leon’s removal from the ranch. “We’ll just be feeding the calves and we can keep an eye on Harwell. You need to protect what’s yours.” She walked rapidly to the stock pen where a dozen or so calves were gathered.

E.J. followed along behind her, looking uncertain as to how to perform this simple task.

“You can supervise and I’ll mix up the creep feeder.”

He raised his eyebrows as high as they could possibly go. “Creep feeder?”

She smiled at his expression. At least he admitted his ignorance. “These calves are still nursing their mothers, but we’re giving them a supplemental feeding to help them put on weight.” She stepped into one of the out buildings with E.J. on her heels.

“So, we’re beefing up the beef?” he asked.

“Exactly. I’m giving them a mixture of sixty-five percent corn and thirty-five percent oats with some nutritional mineral supplements thrown in.”

He watched her scoop the grain into a feeding trough and
add the supplements. “You can let the calves into the other pen now,” she said.

E.J. opened the gate and the calves came bounding into the enclosure, making s
traight for the trough of feed.

Jenna looked up to see three trucks pull up outside the fenced area, the first driven by Leon Harwell. He id
led and glowered at the couple.

The other two trucks contained three of the hands who worked on the ranch. One of the men got out of his truck and approached the f
ence.

“Mr. Kincaid, me and the boys are gonna quit and we’d like our wages. We’re gonna go with Leon, so if you could settle up wi
th us now, we’d appreciate it.”

The man seemed to be nervous and
couldn’t quite meet their eyes.

E.J. shrugged and started walking toward the house. “Wait
here. I’ll draw your checks.”

The man who waited was clearly unea
sy, shifting from foot-to-foot.

Jenna cleared her throat. “You sure you want to do this?”

He sighed and nodded his head, looking down at the ground.

She glanced up to see Leon smirking inside his truck.
Dang! Where will E.J. find a whole new crew?

The front door opened and E.J. came out with paper in his hand. He stopped by the last truck in the caravan and handed in two of the checks to the men inside, then came to meet the man by the fence. He handed him the check
and offered to shake his hand.

The man shook it and mumbled, “Sorry it had to be like this, Mr. Kincaid.”

“Yeah, me too.” He watched the man climb into his truck and the three vehicles left the property. Turning to Jenna, he raked his fingers through his hair. “Man! What else can happen?”

“Don’t ask.” She stepped out of the pen area and secured the gate behind her. “Let’s go inside and let me use the phone. Maybe I can scare up somebody.”

~*~

The next day, Cami went in to her clinic early. The death of young Nick
Jessup was on everyone’s mind.

Loretta sniffled into a tissue.
“So sad.”

Reba snorted. “That young fool never had a lick of sense...but still, it’s a darned shame.”

“I feel so sorry for Sara Beth. What is that poor little thing going to do? She’s all alone now and with a young baby. I just don’t know.” Loretta’s brow wrinkled as she pondered the problem.

“For now, she’s staying with us,” Cami volunteered. “She’s not safe out at their little farm.” She stifled a shiver. “You should have seen it after someone shot it all up. There was glass everywhere, and bullet holes too.”

Reba arched an eyebrow. “You be careful, Doc. Don’t want anyone shooting up your place.”

“I’m not worried about that. There are lots of people around. I have a husband and the ranch hands.”
And lots of weaponry.

Loretta beamed at her. “It’s so good of you to take her in like that, Doctor Cami.” She
blotted her eyes with a tissue.

Cami dismissed this statement. She didn’t feel like a particularly good person. “Anyone would have done the same.”

Reba shook her head. “I wonder what that young fool husband of hers did to get himself killed. Nick was always a hot head, getting into scrapes. I thought maybe being married and with a young baby, he’d have better sense.”

Cami
looped her stethoscope around her neck. “Hopefully, the sheriff’s investigation will yield some answers. Who’s the first patient today?”

~*~

Jenna had arranged for someone to come to the ranch for an interview, of sorts, late that afternoon. E.J. acknowledged that, if the man was breathing and willing, he would have the job.

In the meantime, Jenna had gone to call on some of her clients and E.J. headed for Wichita Falls and the maximum security prison to visit his dad, to let him know about the departure of Leon and the other men. He wanted his dad’s advice on anything pertaining to the ranch. Mostly, he just wanted to see his face.

E.J. found a parking space and climbed out of his car, pocketing the keys. When he signed in, the guard gave him a hard look.

“Mr. Kincaid, the
warden wanted to speak with you.”

E.J. felt a roiling in his gut.
Oh, no! What’s Dad done now?

He followed the guard down several sterile hallways to the office of the warden. He entered and shook hands with the man, who didn’t lo
ok the part of a prison warden.

He could have been a high school biology teacher, or an evangelist.
Balding, slight of stature and with an owlish stare from behind thick glasses.  The man gestured to a chair and seated himself behind his desk. He straightened a few papers before speaking. “Mr. Kincaid. We were just trying to reach you. I regret to inform you that your father was stabbed to death about an hour ago.”

E.J. felt a blow as though someone had punched him in the gut. With difficulty, he sucked in a breath. “What? Stabbed to death?”

The warden nodded. “It happened in the recreation area. The sheriff is examining the video now, but we may never know the actual culprit.” The thin voice trailed off. “We never considered your father to be in any danger. He seemed to get along with the other ‘lifers’.”

E.J. stood, his knees feeling shaky. “Where is he?
His body? I want to see him.” He was aware his voice had risen in timbre, filling the glassed-in room and echoing back at him from the hard surfaces.

The warden stared up at him, his eyes magnified behind his glasses. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kincaid. That won’t be possible. The body has been removed to the county coroner’s office.”

E.J. turned and stumbled blindly toward the door. Once outside the offices, his guard accompanied him to the exit.

When he climbed back into his car, the enormity of his loss hit him.
He can’t be dead. My dad is the strongest, most vital man I’ve ever known. He can’t be dead.

He wasn’t sure how he managed the drive home, but one thing was sure, he wanted to be with Jenna.
To hold her in his arms. She was the only one who mattered now.

When he pulled up to the house, he saw a man leaning against the fence, one boot cocked onto the lowest cross bar. He
slouched against his elbows.

Jenna’s truck was not in evidence, but E.J. thought this man might be the one she had sent for. He was tall and lean, sinewy muscles in his forearms as displayed below his carefully folded back shirt sleeves. The most remarkable thing about this man was the long, black
braid trailing down his back.

E.J. climbed out of his low-slung vehicle, the a
che in his chest consuming him.

The man turned, regarding him with interest. He pushed away from the fence and strode forward with a loose-limbed ease. “Mr. Kincaid?”

E.J. reached to clasp the hand he offered and the steely grip brought him up short. He gazed into eyes so dark he couldn’t discern the pupils. “E.J.,” he said automatically.