Christmas Ranch Rescue

“He’s gone,” Nathan said, coming back into the barn. “He had a car stashed out of sight, backed into the woodsy part near the top of your drive. I would have chased him but didn’t want to leave you here alone and hurt.” He held out a hand. “Can I help you up or would you rather wait for the ambulance to get here?”

She stared up at him, considering her options. “I think as long as I don’t move, I might manage to keep from hurling.”

He squatted, his jeans pulling tight against the muscles in his legs. His boots had seen better days and the cowboy hat hid his eyes. She reached up and flicked it off. His blue eyes set in his permanently tanned face stared down at her. He blinked and then smiled. “You haven’t changed.”

“Neither have you.” She took a deep breath and moved slowly. Her back muscles twinged but didn’t lock up on her. She held up a hand. “I’ll take a little help if you can pull nice and easy so I don’t have to use my back.”

He did. Pretending she had a metal rod in place of her spine, she got to her feet. No bending, no moving fast, no twisting. Her head beat a fast rhythm of pain along with the throbbing in her back. “Thanks.”

Jack whined and nudged the side of her leg. She absently gave his ears a scratch, and that seemed to pacify him.

Sirens filled the air around them. She took a deep breath and a step forward. It hurt, but at least it didn’t feel like she had a knife wedged in her back anymore.

“You need to get to a doctor and have that checked out.”

She didn’t bother telling him she was a doctor. He knew that. Not a back doctor, true, but... “I know what’s wrong and I know how to fix it. Rest and physical therapy.” She grimaced. “Neither of which I like very much.”

“I’m thinking a pain pill wouldn’t hurt.”

She tightened her jaw. “I don’t do drugs—in spite of what everyone in Wrangler’s Corner thinks.”

He lifted an eyebrow and studied her. “I wasn’t suggesting you did. I saw Clay earlier and he told me you had a serious back injury.”

“I do. Did. It’s in the healing process. Or it was before just now.” She’d done the narcotics in the beginning, just to get through the day, but fearing addiction, she’d weaned herself off, and before the attack, had been at the point where she could just take something over the counter when she needed it. Like when she overdid it. Although she had to admit, the pain now was bad enough to have her thinking twice about finding her prescription bottle.

Nathan hovered at her side. “I’m glad you showed up when you did,” she said to him.

“I’m glad I did, too.”

She tilted her head. “Why do you need a job? I thought you were some big bad DEA agent in Nashville.”

His eyes shuttered and his jaw tightened. “I am. Was. Am. Not the big and bad part. Just the agent part.”

“So which is it? Am or was?”

“Was. I quit.” He pursed his lips and ran a hand through his hair. “Actually, it’s more like an extended leave of absence, but I have an open invitation to return anytime.” He sighed. “I got shot and decided to come home to recover. I have more time off than I need, I’m just not ready to—” He stopped and shook his head. “I’m healing nicely and boredom has set in.” He gave a small shrug. “I heard you needed help, I’ve got some medical bills to pay, so I’m here to apply.”

He’d been shot? How had she missed hearing about that one? No doubt because she lived like a hermit most of the time. She looked him over carefully. “You don’t look hurt.”

“It wasn’t a bad wound, and like I said, I’m healing. Actually, the shoulder is pretty much healed. I’ve done the physical therapy and I’m cleared to go back to work. I just don’t want to yet.” His eyes darkened and he glanced away. “Besides, hurt comes in many different forms,” he murmured.

Two Wrangler’s Corner police vehicles pulled to a stop in her drive, and she walked toward them, keeping her pace even, careful with each step. She recognized Trent Haywood and Parker Little. A third car pulled in behind them. Clay.

Clay stepped out of the third car and Becca kept her gaze on the man. Hurt comes in many different forms. Well, that was true enough.

Sheriff Clay Starke was her cousin. The one she’d chased around his parents’ ranch when they were kids, and the one who’d beat up the bully for her when she was in second grade. He was also the one who’d questioned her about a man who’d died of an overdose with her number in his cell phone and who’d gotten a warrant to search her place. Thankfully, as she’d expected, he’d come up empty-handed.

But still.

The anger and hurt were fresh and she didn’t know when she’d get over it. She glanced back at Nathan. “You’re hired.”

He blinked. “That was easy.”

“I need help and you want to work. I know you and I trust you. I was going to have to put an ad in the paper and start interviewing.” She grimaced. “I want to do that about as much as I want another fall. I’d be a fool to turn you down.”

* * *

I know you and I trust you.

Nathan stared at the bottom of the bunk above him, his mind spinning, guilt eating at him. Becca thought she knew him. She thought she could trust him. Little did she know she’d just let a spy into her midst. She knew he worked for the DEA and yet hadn’t thought twice about letting him onto her property or hiring him. That spoke volumes to him.

He grunted and rolled to his side, winced at the pressure on his shoulder and decided he was most comfortable on his back. God, I think I’ve managed to get myself into a mess. Please don’t let me do anything that’s going to hurt Becca. I wouldn’t hurt her for the world, but Clay’s asked me to do this. And while I don’t think Becca’s guilty, if Clay says the drugs are coming from this area, then I need to find out. And find out if Becca’s gotten mixed up in the middle and doesn’t know it. He sighed. “Although, I’m guessing she might know it after today,” he muttered aloud. It had been a bold move for the masked man to attack her in the barn in the middle of the day. That very fact scared him. For her.

Which made him wonder if the failure to get what he wanted would result in the attacker’s return.

Nathan slapped the pillow in frustration. Sleep wasn’t going to happen. His nerves still jumped from his showdown with the man in the barn, his worry over Becca, and his desire to tell her exactly what he was doing sleeping in her bunkhouse and working at her barn.

He swung his feet to the floor and grabbed his jeans from the foot of the bed. So he’d tell her. Right now. Nathan glanced at the clock and winced. It was shortly before midnight. He’d have to wait until morning. She’d had a long day and needed her sleep. “And so do you, Williams,” he muttered. “Lights out.”

Nathan wasn’t sure how long he laid there, thinking, running different versions of a confession to Becca about his presence through his mind, but when the floorboard creaked, his eyes popped open. He lay still, barely breathing, not moving.

Another soft creak, the thud of a footfall. Someone was in the bunkhouse. But who? And why? It wouldn’t be Becca, she would have texted or called to let him know she was coming down.

Had her attacker returned after all?

Nathan sat up and reached for his gun.

TWO

Becca checked the clock once more and sighed. Midnight. She couldn’t get her nerves to calm down long enough to let sleep take over, which was why she now sat in the dark kitchen sipping hot decaf tea and looking out over her property. Jack lay on the floor at her feet, his presence a comfort.

The half-moon cast a faint glow and shadows danced in the distance. But at least the pain in her back had eased and she was able to move without the constant ache. Apparently, her attacker hadn’t done as much damage as she’d feared and she’d bounced back quickly. She just wished her brain could do the same. Unfortunately, the attack kept playing over and over in her restless mind.

Becca shivered and pulled the blanket she’d snagged from the den tighter around her shoulders.

Was he out there? She sipped the tea and took comfort in the fact that her Winchester .45 leaned against the wall nearby.

She still had a hard time processing that she’d been attacked. On her property, in her barn.

Anger mingled with remembered fear. She’d never felt afraid in her home before and now she jumped at every familiar noise.

The moment she’d heard the Updikes were selling the property, she’d known what she’d wanted to do. Her parents had balked. She’d been an equestrian champion as a teen, then graduated at the top of her class from medical school.

On the fast track to following in her father’s impressive footsteps, she was supposed to become a surgeon just like him and continue making them proud while giving them bragging rights at all of their snobby social functions. Well, her father anyway. Her mother hadn’t been quite as vocal—and wasn’t nearly as snobby.

And while Becca loved medicine and the thrill of helping someone heal, she’d also had other dreams.

Like a stable of her own. Riding lessons and trail rides. The squeal of children’s laughter. When she’d finally had the guts—and the means thanks to her grandmother—to chase those dreams, she’d done it. And since her father had paid all of her medical school bills, she’d had no debt to tie her down initially. She’d set up a stable, took advantage of the fact that she knew everyone in the equestrian business and built her clientele so fast it made her head spin.

However, she had to admit, her favorite part was her special needs riders. No amount of money, no ribbon or trophy gave her the satisfaction like seeing a child’s eyes light up while on the back of a horse.

Her eyes grew heavy and she drained the last of the tea from her cup. As she rose to carry it to the sink, a flash of light caught her attention. It came from the bunkhouse. Probably Nathan being as antsy as she. But she couldn’t help the sliver of uneasiness that inched its way up her spine.

Jack lifted his head, his ears perking, his attention on the door.

What if her attacker had come back? What if he decided to incapacitate Nathan while he slept and then came to find her? She tightened her jaw and went to slip her feet into the boots she’d left by the back door, being careful not to jar her back. “Come on, Jack, let’s see what’s going on.” Grabbing the rifle, she slipped out into the chill of the night with the dog at her heels.

* * *

Nathan had lost track of how long he’d stayed quiet, his fingers curled around the grip of his weapon. He kept his back to the wall, eyes on the door in front of him. The floor had creaked a couple more times, then silence. In spite of his pulse pounding and his adrenaline rushing, his senses were sharp, focused.

If Becca’s attacker had returned, Nathan was determined to make sure he didn’t get another chance at her. Although why would he come into the bunkhouse if he was after Becca?

Nathan moved to the door, his socked feet silent on the hardwood. He had a momentary memory blip of the crack house he’d helped bust two months ago and his breath caught. It had been a setup. They’d known he and his team were coming thanks to Sylvia’s betrayal. The only reason Sylvia and the others had been there was because the team had moved their timetable up three hours.

But the drug dealer had been prepared with a full arsenal of weapons and people to use them.

The bullet had come out of nowhere, catching him in the shoulder. He’d gone down in a blinding flash of pain and awareness that if he didn’t do something, he was dead.

Nathan swallowed against the memories. His blood roared in his ears as he planted his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He ordered his heart to slow while he focused on the present. Right now, he needed to figure out who was making the floors creak. The Glock felt comfortable in his grip.

A grunt and a sigh reached his ears. Nathan frowned. Not the noises of someone trying to be quiet. He stepped into the short hallway, grateful for the dim glow from the night light plugged into the outlet. He tried to stay in the shadows but knew if someone looked down the hall, at the very least, they’d see his profile.

The bunkhouse was fairly large, probably about a thousand square feet total. Three small bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and living area. He’d chosen the bedroom nearest the front door. The noises had come from the bedroom to his left. Nathan slipped down the hall, alert for any movement. A flashlight beam bounced off the wall to his right. It came from the bedroom where he’d heard the noises.

“Who’s there?” he called out, then moved into the bathroom located in between the bedrooms in case someone decided to shoot for his answer. Everything stilled. “Answer me.”

Light footsteps from inside the bedroom reached his ears. He hefted the weapon and aimed it at the door.

Which someone pushed closed. Nathan stared.

At the other end of the bunkhouse, the front door shut with a quiet snick. So quiet he almost wondered if he’d heard it. But knew he had.

He spun to face this next threat, his gaze bouncing between the entrance to the hall and the bedroom with the closed door. Light footsteps fell softly on the hardwood. He moved from the safety of the bathroom and into the hall that led to the large living area and the front door. He peered around the edge and saw a dark shadow moving across the floor toward him. He swung his weapon up. “Freeze.”

* * *

Becca froze. “Nathan?”

“Becca?” His arm lowered the weapon away from her. His shoulders relaxed a fraction in the dim light.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered. Jack bounded up beside her and she placed a hand on his head. “Jack, shh!” He settled at her side.

“Someone’s in the room at the end of the hall,” Nathan said.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. I was getting ready to find out when I heard you sneak in. Why didn’t you knock?”

“I saw lights flickering and thought I saw someone sneaking around the bunkhouse. I wanted to make sure you were all right without letting whoever was here know that I saw him.”

They kept their voices low as they moved toward the hallway that would take them to the back bedroom. Nathan stopped. “Stay here,” he whispered.

“No way.”

“If someone starts shooting, I don’t want you in the way.”

She hefted the rifle in her right hand. “Thanks, but I know how to take care of myself. Let’s figure this out together.”

She thought she heard, “Stubborn woman,” before he moved to the door and stood to the side. He lifted his hand and rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Open up and come out! Keep your hands where I can see them.”

Silence.

Becca frowned. Who could be in there? Why would her attacker go in the bedroom and shut the door?

The mental light went on. “Wait a minute,” she whispered. “I know who’s in there.”

“Who?”

“Brody MacDougal. We call him Brody Mac.”

“Who’s that?”

“One of my lesson students turned volunteer turned part-time worker.” She moved around Nathan and reached for the knob. “Brody Mac? Is that you in there? Come on out, hon, this is Becca.”

Shuffling sounded from inside. Slow, soft footsteps made their way to the door. The knob turned slowly and she moved back. Nathan caught her by the upper arms and she paused, waiting.

The door opened and Becca tensed. “Brody Mac?”

“Becca?” He had a deep but gentle voice.

Her muscles relaxed and she stepped into the doorway. She looked up. At six foot three, he had the build of a linebacker, the heart of a marshmallow and the mind of a ten-year-old. Brody Mac’s head hung low and he peered at her through his lashes. “Hi, Becca.”

“Brody Mac, what are you doing coming in here at midnight and scaring everyone?”

He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and shuffled his feet. “I didn’t have nowhere else to go.”

“Anywhere,” she corrected automatically.

“Yes, ma’am, that’s what I meant.”

“Come out here and sit down for a minute, will you? I need to get my pulse back under control.”

Brody Mac stepped into the hall and spotted Nathan. He gasped and ducked back into the room, ready to shut the door. Becca followed him before he could. “Brody Mac, this is my friend, Nathan. Get back out here and meet him, will you?”

“Is he going to shoot me? I saw his gun.”

“No, of course he’s not. I have my rifle, too, but no one is going to do any shooting, okay?” She noticed Nathan had the weapon out of sight and was walking toward the seating area in the large room.

Brody Mac exited the bedroom, his tentative footsteps snagging her heart. She held out a hand and he took it, his palm dwarfing hers. She led him to the sofa where he sat down and released her hand, keeping his gaze on Nathan. Jack bounded over to him and licked his wrist. Brody Mac laughed and scratched the dog’s ears. “Hi, Jack.”

Becca patted his arm, pulling his attention from the animal. “This is Nathan Williams. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Brody Mac said. He extended his arm but then pulled it back. Nathan held his hand out and waited. After a brief hesitation, Brody Mac gave a small smile and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you, Brody Mac,” Nathan said. “I didn’t mean to scare you with the gun. I’m a cop.”

Brody’s almond-shaped eyes went wide. “A cop? For real?”

“For real.”

“That’s super cool. I like cops. They keep me safe.”

“Yeah,” Nathan said, his voice soft. “We sure do try to do that.”

“Now,” Becca said, “tell me what you’re doing here.”

“I had to leave home.”

“Why?” she asked, but had a feeling she already knew the answer.

“This afternoon, Daddy came home and started yelling ’cause the tractor wouldn’t start. Mama told me to go find someplace to stay. I was at the library for a long time then I walked here. I got lost a couple of times so I had to go home and find the way through the woods. That’s why I got here so late.”

Becca rubbed her eyes and glanced at Nathan. “There’s a shortcut between his land and mine.” To Brody Mac, she said, “Are your things still in the bedroom?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay. You know you can stay here.”

Nathan lifted a brow at her and she shrugged. “His daddy’s not such a nice person, but Brody Mac here is a great guy.”

Brody Mac shuffled and rubbed the palms of his hands up and down the sides of his legs. “But my daddy doesn’t like me. He says I’m stupid.” His lower lip quivered. “I’m not stupid, am I, Becca?”

Rage at the man’s careless and needless shaming of Brody Mac burned in her heart, and her tongue wanted to blast the man. With effort, she controlled both and forced a smile. “Of course, you’re not stupid. I know he’s your daddy, but sometimes daddies are wrong,” she said. “About a lot of things.” She looked at Nathan. “Brody Mac’s a hard worker and helps out around the ranch when school’s not in session. He lives here in the bunkhouse during winter break and the summer.” She bit her lip and studied her friend. “Looks like you might need to move in a little early?”

“Can I, Becca?”

“May I.”

“Okay. May I? I’m almost done with school this year. I graduate in—” Brody Mac screwed his face up, then shrugged “—three weeks, I think. Just in time for Christmas.”

“Something like that,” Becca agreed.

“They have graduation in December?” Nathan asked.

Becca smiled. “This school does.”

“I would have graduated in May, but they let me stay until Christmas. I’m twenty-one.” He clapped his hands and grinned. “I’m all legal now.”

“Congratulations,” Nathan said.

“Thanks.” Brody Mac grinned.

Becca stood. “All right, big guy, you’ve got three more weeks of school so that means getting up and getting there on time if you spend the night here. Can you do that?”

“I can. I can do it. I have my alarm clock by my bed. I can set it and everything. I’ll show you.”

“I believe you.” She settled a hand on his massive shoulder. “All right, be sure to tell your mother what you’re doing. She can choose whether or not to fill your father in. As for getting you to school, you can use the moped to get to the bus stop. You know where it is.”

“Thank you, Becca.”

“Sure, and just remember—”

“Roll the moped outta the barn so I don’t scare the horses when I turn it on. I promise.”

“Right. You’ll do great.”

He looked at Nathan. “I learned that last summer.”

Becca couldn’t help the slow curl of her lips. “The hard way.”

Brody’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “Yeah. The hard way.” He rubbed his nose. “I don’t think that horse likes me anymore.”

“He likes you. Be sure to take the lock so you can chain up the moped.”

“I will. Becca says some people have sticky fingers,” he told Nathan. Then looked at his hands. “My fingers aren’t sticky.” He wrinkled his nose. “They only get sticky when I eat pancakes and ice cream.”

Becca could see Nathan fighting a grin and something inside her shifted. He’d been her best friend growing up, the brother she’d never had and always wanted. Only right at that moment, she saw him in a different light.

And it wasn’t as a brother.

She cleared her throat. “It’s been a long day, guys. I’m heading to bed. Brody Mac, Nathan is staying here, too, so please don’t use all of the hot water in the morning, understood?”

“Understood.” He nodded then frowned. “You think my mama’s going to be all right?”

“She always has been.” Why the woman put up with her husband who took off for weeks on end then came home to drink and verbally abuse her and Brody Mac, Becca would never understand. But she could give Brody Mac a safe place to stay and make sure he had a full belly every day until his father decided to leave again. She ushered Brody Mac back to the bedroom. “Get some sleep, all right?”

“Thank you, Becca.” The gentle giant hugged her, and Becca felt her throat grow tight as tears threatened. How anyone could be mean to this man-child was beyond her understanding. He shuffled into the room and shut the door.

“I’ll get Clay to send someone out to his house tonight to check on his mother,” Nathan said softly when she walked back into the den area.

“That’d be good,” Becca agreed. “I can call her, too, and let her know where he is for tonight. Brody Mac’s father isn’t violent—not in the sense that he uses his fists on anyone. At least I don’t think so. But he’s sure got a mouth on him. Last time he was home, he came looking for Brody Mac and he and I got into it. He threatened to see me ‘get mine’ if I kept interfering in his family business.”

Nathan stiffened. “What did he mean by that?”

“I have no idea and I didn’t ask. I just wanted him off my property ASAP.”

“I see. So why does he care where Brody Mac is if he just wants to belittle him?”

“I don’t know for sure, but I suspect it’s because Brody Mac is his. His to boss around, his to be mean to. He wants to control him and make him feel stupid while making himself feel powerful. It’s how he gets his kicks.”

“Sad.”

“I know. And it’s the same way with his wife. She’s not exactly a mouse, but I think she’s afraid of him—and he leaves her alone for extended periods of time so I think she just puts up with it when he’s home and sighs in relief when he’s gone.”

Nathan shook his head. “I don’t understand people like that. Even though I’ve worked with them and arrested a few, I just don’t understand them.” He paused. “Do you think that could have been him in the barn? The one who attacked you?”

She thought about it and shivered. “Maybe. But, like I said, as mouthy as he can be, I’ve never heard of him hitting or hurting anyone. I guess there could always be a first time, but I couldn’t say for sure it was him in the barn.”

“I’ll get Clay to check into the man’s whereabouts during the time of the attack. What’s his name?”

“Jeff MacDougal.” She gave a slow nod and picked up her rifle. “Checking his whereabouts during the attack might be a good idea.” She frowned and looked at him.