Cowboy Brigade

Granted, he looked different. No longer the clean-cut soldier who’d come home on leave. He sported a dark, neatly trimmed beard that made him look even more dangerous and…sexier than ever.

“I always liked it that you talked to your horses.” He didn’t move, he and the horses more or less blocking Lindsay’s escape route.

“I understand them and I like to think they understand me.” She shrugged, wishing she had made her run for the house when she’d had the chance. This conversation reminded her of others equally as intimate in the setting and content.

Anxious to leave him, but not wanting him to know just how he affected her, Lindsay strode forward and reached for the dappled gray gelding. “Come on, Stormy. You’ll be wanting your feed.” When her hand touched Wade’s, that same old shocking electric current coursed through her veins, headed directly south. Heat flared throughout her body, igniting a flame she’d thought burned out five years ago.

She jerked the reins from Wade’s hand and practically ran for Stormy’s stall. Why did she have to be so aware of this man? He’d broken her heart more than once, hadn’t she learned her lesson?

After she got Stormy into his stall, she shoved the latch closed and turned to run for the house.

Before she could take two steps, Wade had the mare’s stall door closed and he’d spun to face her.

Lindsay sidestepped him, but he didn’t let her pass, grabbing her by the arms.

“Look, Lindsay, I’m not here to start something between you and me. I know that’s over. I’m just here because I need a job.”

Where his fingers curled around her arms her skin tingled, reminding Lindsay of the last time he’d held her. The magic of their lovemaking and how much she had wanted to be with him always. The depth of all that emotion pressed against her chest, making it impossible for her to breathe, much less talk.

Her eyes blurred and she realized in horror that she would cry if she didn’t get away from him. And no matter what she did, she refused to cry in front of Wade Coltrane. She’d done enough crying over this man and, as her grandfather would lecture, Kemps don’t cry.

Forcing air past her vocal cords, she said, “I don’t want you here, no matter what your reasons.”

For a brief moment, a sadness so deep it almost hurt her to see flashed in his blue eyes. Then it was gone and his hands fell to his sides, his lips firming into a straight line. “I understand. And I hope you’ll understand that I work for your grandfather.” He spun on his heels and walked out of the barn.

Lindsay stared at his back, anger replacing sadness and the lingering waves of lust of a moment ago. “How dare he talk to me that way?” She pushed her sleeves up and stomped toward the house. Her grandfather would see it her way and fire Wade Coltrane’s butt quicker than he could say I’m sorry.

When she reached the house, the girls waited in the kitchen clean and ready to start cooking supper. Her grandfather was nowhere to be found.

Damn.

WADE FED the horses and turned them back out to pasture before he grabbed his worn, military duffle bag from the truck and headed for the bunkhouse to clean up. Frank beat him there, his booted feet propped on the footboard of his bunk.

“Surprise, surprise,” Wade muttered to himself. Out loud he asked, “Where are the other hands?”

“Out with Old Man Kemp, shoring up the cattle chutes, gettin’ them ready for roundup. Why do you care?”

“I care because I work here and, if they need help, I should be out there.”

“They’ll be back any minute for supper. Lindsay sure can rustle up some fine grub. Not only is she good-lookin’, she’s a good cook. Everything a man could want in a woman.” Frank stuck a hay straw in his mouth, his gaze narrowed as if waiting for a rise from Wade.

Wade tamped down the anger quick to rise when Frank made mention of Lindsay in any way. He ignored the guy and stared around the bunkhouse. “Which bunks aren’t taken?”

“Those.” Frank jerked his head past his bunk to the ones where thin mattresses lay bare on the bed frames.

Dorian’s gaze followed him as Wade moved past. “Hear you used to live on the ranch.”

Wade found a wooden footlocker beside the bed, opened it and shoved his duffle bag into it without unpacking. “You heard right.” He unbuckled the lock on the bag, grabbed out a shaving kit, towel and clean clothes.

“Prior Army?” Dorian asked.

“Yup. What about you?”

“Same. Did some time on active duty.” Frank crossed his arms behind his head. “Why come back to this podunk town?”

“Needed a job.” Wade gathered his things and straightened.

Wade could care less about Frank and his past but, as a new hired hand, he had to try to fit in, even if he didn’t plan to stay long. As soon as he had the evidence he needed, he’d be gone from the Long K Ranch. “What’s your story?”

Frank shrugged. “Same.”

The bunkhouse door opened and two men walked in shaking dust from their cowboy hats.

The first guy, a short, grizzled older man, with a scraggly white beard and skin as tough as leather, tossed his cowboy hat onto the first bed. He held out his hand to Wade. “Roy Kingery, folks call me Dusty.”

Wade smiled, shook hands with Dusty and introduced himself.

The second man, tall, thin as a rail and with facial features as gaunt as Abraham Lincoln, strode in, head down, still wearing his cowboy hat. He didn’t say anything, walked straight to his bed and unlaced well-worn leather chaps.

Dusty jerked his head toward the tall lean man. “That’s Billy Moore. He don’t talk much, but ain’t a man who can out-rope, outride or outshoot him in the county.”

Wade nodded toward Billy. “Good to know you.” He glanced pointedly at the items in his hands. “Dinner’s at six-thirty, right?”

“Yup, and you don’t want to be late for Miss Lindsay’s cookin’. She might ride as good as the rest of us, but she also knows her way around the kitchen.”

“Guess I better get cleaned up.” Wade strode the length of the bunkhouse aware of the men’s gazes following him, summing him up.

The bunkhouse reminded Wade of old World War II barracks with a neat row of bunks on each side and a communal latrine and shower facility at one end. If he hadn’t been through all that he had, he’d almost feel like a new recruit at boot camp.

He wasn’t the green trainee he had been all those years ago. The months he’d spent fighting in Afghanistan and Iraq had sharpened his fighting skills, but the time he’d been held captive in a Taliban terrorist camp had marked him for life.

His fingers rose to the scar near his right eye, memories flooding in to remind him of what he’d been subjected to. The body had a way of forgetting pain, but he could never forget what he’d done. Neither could he forgive himself for cracking.

He showered quickly, toweling off as the other men wandered in naked, bars of soap in hand.

Wade hurried through shaving, dressed in jeans and a clean black T-shirt, and pulled his boots on. He wanted a chance to speak with Old Man Kemp before supper. If Lindsay had already gotten to him, his mission could be over before it even started. No matter what Lindsay said, Wade would keep this job if he had to trick Old Man Kemp into agreeing to it.

With the three ranch hands still washing up, Wade climbed the slight rise to the ranch house. As he passed by an open window, Lindsay’s voice carried to him on the warm, late-summer breeze.

“We don’t need another ranch hand, Gramps. We can’t afford the ones we have.”

Wade stopped outside the window to Henry Kemp’s office and stood beside a tree, out of view, tamping down the surge of guilt he felt for eavesdropping on a man who’d done him a favor by hiring him.

Yet Old Man Kemp was his target. He had to eavesdrop to know what he had planned. If the man really did want to harm Governor Lockhart, Wade had to find the evidence that would put him away before he succeeded

“Roundup is next week,” Henry said. “Surely we can afford to keep him at least one week. Besides, I liked the Coltranes. It was a sad day when his old man died in that flash flood. Wade’s daddy did good work for us. It’s the least I can do for an old friend.”

Wade remembered that day when Henry Kemp came to the high school. Wade had been a senior then, staring out the window at the rain clouds. The guys had been excited that football practice would be wet that day. Coach never skipped practice. They’d be playing in the mud and, just like when they were all kids, they loved playing in the mud.

Henry had taken him out of that classroom that day to tell him that his father had died at a low-water crossing. He and his horse had been swept downstream. The horse made it, but Jackson Coltrane didn’t.

His chest tight, Wade forced himself to listen to the conversation.

“Gramps, what will we pay him with? The bank account is down to nothing. We haven’t been paid for the last ten steers we sold at auction, and I’m not having any luck getting a bank to loan us money to tide us over until roundup. We’re broke.”

Wade leaned out enough to catch a glimpse of Lindsay’s face. With color high in her cheeks and her green eyes flashing, she’d never been more beautiful.

Henry slammed his palm flat on the desk. “Damn Lockharts!”

“Oh, please.” Lindsay flung her hand in the air and spun away from her grandfather. “Why bring them up? What happened with them was years ago.”

“Yeah, but they tricked me into selling that land to them. While they’re sitting all fat, rich and happy, we’re struggling to put bread on the table.”

Lindsay turned and stalked toward her grandfather’s desk, where she planted her fists on her hips. “You really have to get past that. Fifteen years is long enough to hold a grudge.”

Her grandfather’s back straightened. “Yeah, but I remember it as if it was yesterday. That land had oil. We were sitting on a gold mine and didn’t even know it. Somehow the Lockharts knew. They just knew it. And now look at them, richer than Midas, and lording it over everyone else!”

“You can’t undo what’s done. We have to move on and make the best of our lot in life.”

“And that’s my plan.” Henry Kemp stood and walked around the desk, taking his granddaughter by the hands. “Mark my words, things are gonna change around here.”

Lindsay’s brows wrinkled, her eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

“I’m workin’ on something.” Old Man Kemp dropped her hands and spun away, his lips turned up in a ghost of a smile.

Wade moved around the tree and ducked behind a bush. If Henry saw him spying on him, he’d fire him on the spot.

The old man looked out the window, past the tree where Wade had been standing to something far beyond. “I’m going to make things happen that should have happened a long time ago.”

“Gramps, you aren’t planning something crazy, are you?”

The old man’s lips pressed into a firm line. “I ain’t tellin’, but it’ll make things right around here. And about damn time.”

Lindsay moved up beside her grandfather and laid a hand on his arm. “I don’t like that you’re keeping secrets from me.”

“This is one I had to keep, darlin’.” He patted her hand. “It’s for your own good. There are people who might try to stop me.”

Voices sounded from the bunkhouse.

Wade doubled back around the house and came in from the opposite side, his mind churning through all he’d heard.

Henry Kemp had a plan. Question was, did it involve killing Governor Lockhart?

Wade had to find the evidence, and fast, of previous attempts to kill the governor, before another attempt met with success.

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