Wyoming Bold (Mills & Boon M&B) (14 page)

Merissa nodded. She sighed. “I hope so.”

“We won’t say anything in the house that concerns Dalton or spies or bugs or anything else,” Clara assured her. She was somber then. “People in town are talking about Bill’s death,” she said. “We’re going to be the subject of gossip again. And what do we do about his funeral, sweetie?” she added.

“Will it be up to us to bury him, or does his girlfriend want to take care of the arrangements? Could we ask Sheriff Banks to call her?”

“I think we might,” Clara replied. “That terrible man, to send him back here and subject us to the horror all over again.” She closed her eyes. “He killed Bill.”

“I may have helped him kill someone else,” Merissa said with anguish, and explained.

“Perhaps if I tried to help you with a reading of my own,” Clara pondered.

“Would you?” Merissa asked. “You’re better at some things than I am. It might help. Whatever you find out, we could tell Dalton.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid the sheriff thinks we wear pointy hats and dance naked around bonfires in the deep woods.”

“He’s a nice man,” Clara responded. “He’s just very normal. The paranormal has no place in his life.”

“That’s like most people.”

“Oh, I ran into Dr. Harrison,” Clara said. “He asked about your headaches.”

“They’re better,” Merissa replied. “I do wish they’d go away, though,” she grumbled as they went into the kitchen. “I just got a refill on my prescription medicine yesterday and stuck it in my bedside table. I don’t know what I’d do without those capsules.”

“At least you have something that works now. Carson said he’s driving over to see Dalton.” She pursed her lips. “Might you like to go with him?” she teased.

Merissa’s face lit up. “Might I? I’ll get my coat!”

She went to the front door. “Carson, can I go, too?” she called.

He threw up a hand and motioned her to the car he was driving.

“I’ll just be a minute!”

She grabbed her coat, kissed her mother and ran out to the car. Carson opened the door for her, smiling at her surprise.

“My mother had excellent manners,” he explained as they drove to the Kirk ranch. “She taught me courtesy.”

“It’s very nice in a man,” she said.

“Works wonders with women,” he quipped.

She stared at him quietly. “Women will be your downfall,” she said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pipe up like that.” She flushed.

“No offense taken,” he replied. He glanced at her. “What do you mean, though?”

“Your past will affect your future,” she repeated what she’d told him once.

“You mean I’m going to meet some innocent little thing who’ll think I’m a rake and avoid me because of it?” He laughed.

It wasn’t really funny, what she’d seen in her vision. But it was perhaps better not to tell him all of it. “Something like that, I’m afraid,” she said instead. However, it was going to be much more serious than he ever realized. He didn’t seem to think of his wild lifestyle as a problem. It would become his worst one.

* * *

T
HEY
 
DROVE
 
UP
 
at the Kirk ranch and Dalton turned from a conversation he was having with one of his men. When Merissa got out of the car, he was smiling from ear to ear as he came to meet her.

“What a nice surprise!” he exclaimed, and hugged her. “I was coming over to see you later,” he teased. “Saved me a trip.”

She smiled. “I have a little problem.”

He looked immediately at Carson.

“Hey,” Carson said indignantly, “I don’t poach.”

Tank looked embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Carson just chuckled. “I need to talk to Rourke.”

“He’s in the house. Go ahead.”

He nodded and left them alone.

“It’s nothing like that,” Merissa told him softly. “Carson is...not what he seems. The other man called me, the one who’s stalking you.”

“What did he say?” Dalton asked at once, concerned.

“He said that if I tell you anything else about him, he’ll know, and my mother will pay for it.” She ground her teeth together. “Then I slipped up and told him there was someone else, someone he thought was dead, who knows much more than you do and who was about to tell people.” Her eyes teared up. “He’ll kill the man, and I don’t even know who it is or how to warn him. Carson said he’d make some phone calls.” She looked up at Tank. “I don’t want someone innocent to die because of me.”

He drew her close and hugged her. “We’ll find out who it is and warn him. Don’t take it so to heart. You might even be wrong, for once,” he teased.

“I don’t think so.”

He lifted his head. “You worry too much.”

She grimaced. “Not so much anymore, I wore out my nerves on you, thinking about that man killing you.”

He touched her mouth with the tips of his fingers. “I’m hard to kill. Honest.”

She managed a smile.

“Come on inside.”

“I can’t stay long,” she said worriedly. “Mama’s by herself. I’m afraid for her...”

Even as she spoke, Carson came down the steps and went toward his car. “I’m going back over to the Bakers. Can you bring Merissa home?” he asked Tank.

Tank grinned. “Of course.”

“Thanks. See you.”

He drove off with a wave.

* * *

T
ANK
 
TOOK
M
ERISSA
 
into the house. The whole family was in the living room, playing with Mallory and Morie’s little boy on the carpet. Even Bolinda, visibly pregnant, was sitting on the floor beside her husband, Cane. They looked absolutely fascinated.

There was a huge, brilliantly decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room, with gaily wrapped presents piled up to the second limb around it. The tree was artificial, Tank had told her, because Morie had allergies that kept them from having a live tree.

“The tree is beautiful,” she whispered.

He chuckled. “Morie puts them up on Thanksgiving eve,” he told her. “And they stay up until New Year’s Day.”

“We’re always late with ours. But we usually take them down the day after Christmas.”

“I could come and help you take it down,” he offered with a smile. “I can reach the top to get the star off without a ladder.”

She laughed softly. “We don’t have a star. But that would be nice.”

He grinned from ear to ear. The others, hearing voices, looked over at them.

Merissa glanced up at Tank worriedly.

“It’s all right,” he said softly, putting an arm around her. He walked her closer to the sofa.

Four people and a baby looked at her.

She flushed and moved closer to Tank.

His arm tightened.

“Have a seat and an ugly, nonbiodegradable but functional highly colored plastic baby toy, and join in the fun,” Mallory invited with a grin, handing her a rattle.

It broke the ice. Merissa burst out laughing as she took the toy from him.

“Sit down,” Morie invited with a smile. “We don’t bite, honest.”

“And nobody’s going to make sarcastic remarks,” Bolinda added gently.

Merissa sat down, Tank dropping to the couch beside her. “You were always kind to me in school, when a lot of people weren’t,” she said to Bolinda. “I had to drop out and be homeschooled eventually because I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Bolinda reached up and patted her arm. “Different is not bad. You have a real gift. We’re all grateful that you were able to warn Tank in time to save his life.”

“Amen to that,” Mallory agreed, and Cane nodded. “We’re sort of used to him. Even if I can play the piano better than he can,” he added dryly.

“Challenge. Challenge!” Cane piped in.

“Yeah. You think you’re better than me, you can prove it,” Mallory said haughtily.

Tank flexed his fingers and grinned at Merissa, who was laughing. “Okay.”

He went to the piano. “Requests?” he called out.

“Anything except Rach Three,” Mallory said sourly, alluding to the almost impossible-to-play Rachmaninoff 3 composition by the great Russian composer.

“Jealous,” Tank told Merissa in a stage whisper. “I can play it and he can’t.”

“I could play it if I wanted to,” Mallory muttered.

“I love ‘Send in the Clowns,’” Merissa said softly.

Tank’s eyebrows lifted.

“Did I say something wrong?” she asked worriedly.

“It’s his favorite,” Cane said gently and laughed.

“Oh!” She flushed as she met Tank’s soft, searching eyes.

“Similar tastes in music,” he teased. “Not a bad thing at all. Okay. Here goes.”

He began to play. Merissa closed her eyes to drink in the sweet beauty of the song. It was timeless, ageless, haunting. Her mother had a recording of it sung by Judy Collins, inherited from Merissa’s grandmother, who had loved it dearly. Merissa had fallen in love with the recording long ago. Even without the words, the melody was exquisite.

Tank finished. Merissa wiped her eyes. He grinned.

“Okay,” he invited Mallory, who was holding his son and grinning. “Your turn.”

Mallory kissed the little boy and handed him over to a beaming Morie. “On my way.”

Tank got up and sat beside Merissa on the sofa. Mallory flexed his own fingers, gave Tank a smug grin and launched into his own favorite, the theme from
August Rush.

Merissa sat entranced while he played. When he finished, she clapped.

“Sorry,” she told Tank.

He only laughed. “No need. He really is better than me. I just like to pull his chain occasionally. Bravo, Mallory,” he added, and he clapped, too. “I yield to a maestro.”

Mallory made him a mock bow. Then he went back to playing with the baby.

“Coffee?” Morie asked, surrendering the baby to Mallory again as she got to her feet.

“That would be very nice,” Merissa said.

“Come with me,” Morie invited, smiling.

Merissa smiled at Tank and went to join the other woman in the kitchen.

“You can be in charge of mugs.” Morie laughed. “They’re in the cupboard, there.”

Merissa went to get them. They were thick white mugs. She looked at them with surprise. The Kirk ranch was massive. She expected bone china, at the least.

Morie saw her expression and grinned. “We don’t use the good china except at Christmas dinner,” she confessed. “Nobody likes hand washing every single piece of it, you see. Those—” she indicated the mugs “—go very nicely into the dishwasher and never crack.”

“You aren’t what I expected,” Merissa confessed shyly. “I mean, I knew Bolinda from when I was very young, and she was always kind. But people say you’re from a very powerful ranching family in Texas. I thought...”

Morie put an arm around her shoulders impulsively and hugged her. “We’re just people,” she pointed out. “My dad’s just as much at home in a dented pickup with torn seats as he is in a Jaguar. He and my mother raised my brother and me not to be snobs,” she added with a chuckle.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Merissa said softly, and smiled.

“I know.” Morie sliced pound cake and put it on a platter. She glanced at Merissa. “We all know what happened over at your place. I’m so sorry. Just before Christmas, too.”

“I still don’t understand why the man would do something so horrible. He sent my father to terrorize us.” She closed her eyes and shivered delicately. “You have no idea what he did to us, to my mother and me, before Dalton came and the others came and rescued us. He said he was going to kill me....”

Morie hugged her close and rocked her. “It’s all right. He’ll never hurt you again.”

She shivered. “The man shot him dead, right in our backyard.” She pulled away and wiped at her eyes with a paper towel Morie passed to her. “Why kill him?”

“Apparently he’d served his purpose,” the older woman said quietly. “Or some purpose that only he knew. People like that aren’t quite sane, I think.”

Merissa nodded. “He’s dangerous. The most dangerous person I’ve ever heard of. He said he’d be listening, and if I told Dalton anything else about him he’d kill Mama.”

Morie grimaced. “If it helps, these things do finally get resolved. One way or another.” Her eyes were sad. “You heard about Joe Bascomb, didn’t you?”

“Everybody did,” the other woman said. “It was so brave of you, going out to find Mallory after Bascomb had kidnapped him and left him to die. He could have killed you.”

“I knew that,” Morie said. “But I would have had no life without Mallory.”

It was said in a matter-of-fact way. Merissa saw the love in the other woman’s eyes for her husband as she glanced through the doorway of the kitchen past the dining room into the living room beyond, where Mallory was sprawled on the carpet with their son.

She looked back at Merissa. “You would have done the same, if it had been Tank,” she said perceptively.

“Of course,” Merissa said without a pause. She drew in a breath. “He’s my whole world now. I can’t imagine life without him in it.”

Morie smiled. “You won’t have to, from what I’ve seen,” she told her. “You watch, he’ll come through that door any minute. He can’t stand to be away from you. He’s been mooning around here all day trying to find an excuse to go and see about you... See?” she whispered.

Tank appeared in the doorway, hands in his jean pockets, eyebrows raised. “Are we ever going to get coffee, you think?” he mused.

The women laughed.

“We’re putting it on the tray now, with cake,” Morie said. “Want to carry it in for us?”

He grinned. “My pleasure.” He glanced at Merissa with a look in his eyes that made her just melt.

He put the tray down on the coffee table and drew Merissa to his side on the sofa.

“I like mine black,” he told her. He smiled.

She laughed. “I like mine with cream and sugar.”

“It doesn’t matter. You like ‘Send in the Clowns,’” he teased. “We’ll find other things in common, too.”

“Yes.” She leaned over to pour the coffee for him.

* * *

A
LL
 
TOO
 
SOON
, she had to leave. Tank drove her back to her home, but he stopped a little way from the cabin, put the truck out of gear and removed their seat belts. While she was wondering why, he pulled her across his lap and kissed her with a starving passion.