Under His Protection

“I want to know what the meaning of this is right now!” she bellowed the second he opened the door to her. “If you think you can scare me into leaving, then you’ve wasted your time.”

Surprised, he scowled. “What the devil are you talking about?”

“This!” she snapped, and waved a piece of paper in his face.

Without a word, he snatched it out of her hand and read it, only to glance up at her sharply. “Where’d you get this?”

“On my pillow,” she replied. “And don’t pretend you don’t know anything about it. You had to do it. You’re the only one here.”

If she thought he would deny it, she was doomed to disappointment. Instead, he walked straight to the phone on the table next to the couch and dialed 911. “I need the sheriff,” he told the dispatcher curtly. “There’s been a break-in at the Broken Arrow Ranch.”

“Is the intruder still in the house?”

“Not that I know of,” he retorted, “but I can’t be sure of that. I don’t even know how he got in.”

“Is anyone hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No…just the sheriff and a couple of his men to search the place. I could do it, but—”

“No!” the dispatcher said quickly. “Please don’t take that chance. There’s a deputy on the way—he should be there shortly. In the meantime, do you have any weapons?”

“I’ve got a shotgun and I’m not afraid to use it,” he retorted. “Right now, Ms. Wyatt and I are in the foreman’s cabin behind the barn. If anyone touches my front door, I’m shooting first and asking questions later, so make sure the deputy knows to come in with sirens blazing.”

“I’ll pass that message along,” she assured him. “Someone should be there any second.”

The words were hardly out of her mouth when the sound of sirens cut sharply through the night air. Glancing out the window near the front door, John watched as a county patrol car skidded to a stop in a cloud of dust before his cabin. He didn’t unlock the door, however, until he saw who stepped out of the car.

“Looks like we got the top dog,” John told Elizabeth. “The sheriff himself. Not,” he added, “that that means a hell of a lot. From what Buck told me, law enforcement around here’s nothing but a joke. I guess we’re about to find out.”

He opened the door at the sheriff’s sharp knock and held out his hand to him in greeting. “Glad you could get here so quickly, Sheriff. I’m John Cassidy. And this is Elizabeth Wyatt.”

“Glad to meet you,” the other man said amiably, shaking his hand, then stepping over to Elizabeth to do the same. “I’m Sherm Clark, Ms. Wyatt. What’s this about an intruder?”

“I found a note in my bedroom warning me to leave while I still could,” she said grimly, nodding to the single piece of paper John had laid on the lamp table by the front window. “Since John and I are the only ones on the ranch, someone else was obviously here.”

“Did you see anyone else?” he asked as he stepped over to the table and carefully picked up the paper with a pair of tweezers. “Hear anything?”

“Nothing,” she retorted. “I’ve been working in the ranch office all day. I saw the note when I went up to my room to collect some things for a bath. The note was on my pillow.”

“And where were you?” he asked John.

“Here in my cabin. I worked on the tractor all day and had just finished taking a shower myself when Elizabeth showed up at my door with the note.”

“So neither one of you saw anyone.” Frowning, he slipped the note into an evidence bag, then glanced up sharply at John. “Did you touch the note?”

He nodded. “But just on the right hand corner. Both of our prints are on there.”

“Then I’ll need you both to come down to the office tomorrow and have your fingerprints taken. Then we’ll send the note to the state lab and see who else has been handling this.”

Studying him shrewdly, John said, “You don’t really expect any other prints to be on there, do you?”

He shrugged. “I don’t have any expectations one way or the other. I’m just doing my job and following up on the evidence. Speaking of which, I need to dust the doors and Ms. Wyatt’s bedroom for prints. The exterior doors to the house were locked, weren’t they?”

When both men looked at her, Elizabeth wanted to sink right through the floor. “Not yet,” she admitted huskily. “I usually lock them right before I go upstairs at night, but I was distracted and completely forgot about it.”

“Elizabeth! You know what’s been going on around here—”

“I know. I wasn’t thinking. It was stupid—”

“You were lucky this time,” the sheriff told her. “This is a big house. If someone wanted to harm you, they could slip in through an unlocked door, hide out until nightfall, then slit your throat while you’re sleeping. Keep your doors locked at all times.”

Blanching, she pressed a hand to her throat. “I will,” she said huskily.

“You don’t have to scare her to death,” John said, scowling.

“She needs to know what can happen,” the older man said flatly. “Don’t underestimate people, especially someone who wants what you have.”

“Trust me, I won’t,” Elizabeth said. “I’m going to keep everything locked. I’ll carry my keys with me everywhere I go in the house and on the property, even if it’s just outside to the chicken coop to collect the eggs. I’m not going through this again.”

“Good,” Sherm Clark retorted. “Now show me your bedroom.”

Chapter 3

There was no sign of a break-in. The front and back doors, as well as the door to Elizabeth’s room, were dusted for prints, but the sheriff made no secret of the fact that the only fingerprints he expected to find were those of John and Elizabeth.

“Not,” he quickly pointed out, “that I think either of one of you are lying about who wrote the note or how it ended up on Elizabeth’s pillow. All I know is that someone put it there. Give me a logical explanation of who that someone was and I’ll be happy to check it out.”

Frustrated, Elizabeth wasn’t the least bit fooled. She didn’t care what he said, he obviously thought either she or John was responsible for the note. He refused to even consider any other possibility. Irritating man! What kind of sheriff was he? If John had written the note as some kind of twisted joke, he wouldn’t have insisted on calling the authorities. So that left her. Why would she write a note to herself, then let John call the sheriff? What purpose would it serve?

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” John told her bluntly after the sheriff left.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought. “That’s not necessary. As long as the doors are locked—”

“I’m not taking any chances with your safety,” he said flatly. “If you don’t like it, call Buck.”

She wasn’t going to do that, and they both knew it. “Fine,” she retorted. “Have it your way. I’m going to bed. You don’t have to sleep on the couch—there’s a downstairs guest room.”

“The couch in the family room is better—it’s close to the stairs. I’ll be able to hear you if you need help.”

She wasn’t going to need help—she had to believe that or she wouldn’t sleep a wink. But all she said was, “Fine. If that’s the way you want it.” Retrieving a blanket and pillow from the downstairs linen closet for him, she said, “I guess I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

She felt his eyes on her all the way up the stairs, and it was all she could do not to look back. What was it about the man that made it impossible for her to ignore him? she wondered as she reached her room and began to get ready for bed. She was upstairs, he was down, and she knew it was impossible to hear what he was doing. Still, she could have sworn that she could hear every breath he took. She had to be losing her mind.

Irritated with herself for being so fanciful, she crawled into bed a few moments later and closed her eyes with a tired sigh. She might as well have tried to catch forty winks in the middle of the Denver airport—it wasn’t going to happen. Frustrated, she punched her pillow into a more comfortable position, but even though she felt safe with John sleeping downstairs, she couldn’t put the note out of her head. She might not know the name of whoever left the warning on her pillow, but it was obviously someone who thought they had a chance of inheriting the ranch by scaring her into leaving.

It wasn’t going to happen, she vowed grimly. She wasn’t going to be the one who let the family down. And she wasn’t going to live in fear or hide in her room on her own ranch!

The decision made, she finally fell asleep and was up the next morning with the sun. If she expected to catch John still sleeping, she was doomed to disappointment. Not only was he already awake, but he’d returned the pillow and blanket he’d used to the linen closet, started a pot of coffee in the kitchen, then locked the back door on his way out.

He was, she had to admit, thoughtful. But she needed a heck of a lot more from him than thoughtfulness. Grabbing a cup of coffee, she went in search of him and found him in the barn loading fencing supplies into the back of the ranch pickup.

He looked up in surprise at her entrance, but before he could say a word of greeting, she said, “I thought you already repaired the fence.”

“The ranch is fifty square miles,” he retorted. “Repairing fences is a never ending process.” Throwing the last roll of barbwire into the bed of the truck, he studied her with a sudden frown. “What are you doing up so early? You haven’t found any more notes, have you?”

“What? Oh, no, thank God! I just couldn’t sleep. I’m just so angry!”

“I don’t blame you,” he told her. “Whoever left that note is nothing but a coward.”

“He’s wasting his time,” she said flatly. “I’m not going anywhere and neither is my family. This is our ranch, and no one’s taking it from us. If that means it comes down to a fight, then so be it.”

John had seen her frustrated before, but he’d never seen her so stirred up. She was furious, and she had every right to be. She and Buck and her sisters weren’t doing anything except trying to live up to the terms of Hilda Wyatt’s will. And because of that, they were getting harassed by some thugs who didn’t think they were entitled to the place. Too damn bad! The Wyatts were Hilda’s legitimate heirs and the will was valid. They were staying.

“I told Buck when he hired me that he could count on me to help any way I could,” he told her quietly. “That promise extends to you and your sisters. Anyone who even thinks about going after you is going to have to go through me first. You know that, don’t you?”

Surprise flared in her eyes. “I appreciate that,” she said huskily. “Thank you.”

“You’re not in this alone. If there’s anything I can do…”

“You can help me make this ranch mine,” she said simply. “I thought about it last night, and I’m not going to cower in my room like some scaredy-cat who jumps at her own shadow. I’m not going to live in fear. This is the Wyatt family homestead and I’m a Wyatt. I’m going to work this ranch like I own it.”

A slight smile curled the corners of his mouth. “You do own it. So I guess this means you want to know how to do something more than gather eggs.”

“I do. You were right. If I’m going to be the boss, I need to know everything that’s involved in running the ranch. I need you to teach me.”

“Then let’s go ride fence,” he said promptly, then caught her off guard when he tossed her the keys. “You drive.”

“What? Me? Are you joking? I can’t drive. I’m not used to driving on the right side of the road.”

Amused, he only grinned. “There aren’t any roads where we’re going, so it doesn’t matter. Just don’t hit a tree or knock the fence down and we’ll get along fine.”

Her heart pounding, Elizabeth was in no mood to appreciate his sense of humor. Did he know what he was asking of her? It wasn’t only driving on the opposite side of the road that was the problem, it was the steering wheel and the pedals and everything else being opposite of where they were supposed to be. She wasn’t ready!

John, however, didn’t give her a chance to voice a second objection. Walking around the truck, he slid into the passenger seat. “Oh, yeah,” he asked innocently as he watched her gingerly settle behind the steering wheel, “you do know how to drive a standard, don’t you?”

In the process of slipping the key into the ignition, she looked sharply at the long gearshift that stuck out of the floorboard in front of the old pickup’s bench seat. “Oh, God.”

John’s lips twitched. “Why do I have the feeling this could be a problem?”

“Because it is,” she retorted, horrified. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“First,” he chuckled. “You always start in first.”

When she just looked at him, he almost laughed. Did she have any idea how funny she was? He almost asked her, but he had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the question in her current mood. “Well?” he asked, lifting a dark brow at her when she just sat there. “What are you waiting for?”

“You to show me where first is,” she replied. “How am I supposed to find it when it’s not marked?”

“Push the clutch in,” he said, nodding toward the pedal next to the brake. “That’s it. Now put it in first.” When she just looked at him, he reached across the distance between them and brought her hand to the stick shift. A split second later, his fingers closed over hers and he moved the gearshift into first.

Unable to take her eyes off his hand covering hers, Elizabeth told herself she was just trying to figure out where the different gears were, but she knew it was more than that. She barely knew him. How could his touch feel so right?

“When you shift into second, you have to hang your head out the window and howl at the moon.”

Caught up in her thoughts, his words suddenly registered. Frowning in confusion, she looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“Just seeing if you’re listening,” he said dryly. “I thought I lost you there for a minute.”

Hot color singeing her cheeks, she dropped her gaze back to their joined hands. “I was just—”

…wondering what your hands would feel like moving all over my body.

The thought shook her to the core…and heated her blood. Mortified, she didn’t dare meet his gaze. Did he realize what he was doing to her? What she was thinking? She had to stop this! Before he guessed—

“Why do I have the feeling that I’ve lost you again?” he asked, amused. “Was it something I said? If you don’t want to do this—”

“No!” she said quickly, jerking herself back to attention. “I was just trying to figure out where second is.”

“It’s a standard H,” he told her. “Keep the clutch in and bring the gearshift straight back. That’s it. Now shift over to third—Good girl! And down to fourth. That’s it.”

“That’s all? Why, that shouldn’t be difficult at all!”

He grinned. “Once you get the hang of it, you can do it in your sleep and not even think about it. The hard part is giving it gas and letting the clutch out without killing it. That takes some practice. So ease up on the clutch as you give it some gas. Easy. Easy. Not so fast! You—”

“Killed it,” she finished for him. “Darn! We didn’t even move!”

“You’ll get it,” he chuckled. “It just takes practice. Try letting the clutch out slower.”

She tried. And tried. Then, with no warning, the wheels began to turn. “Oh, my God! We’re moving!”

“You’re damn straight we’re moving!” he laughed. “Now shift into second. That’s it. Easy,” he growled, wincing as the gears ground in protest. “Ease up on the clutch—”

With a jerk, the truck died again.

Elizabeth, however, was far from discouraged. Grinning, she reached for the key and started the truck again. “I can do this,” she said, grinning like a kid with a new toy. “I’ve just got to get the footwork down.”

“And watch where you’re going,” he advised as she picked up a little speed and headed west, away from the house. “Watch that tree!”

“I see it…I think.” Laughing, she swerved around it, and shifted into third.

Just that easily, she conquered shifting and no longer needed John’s guidance on the gearshift. Torn between relief and disappointment that he no longer had a reason to touch her, he released her and told himself it was for the best. Her skin was too soft, her smile too intoxicating. Thrilled with herself, she acted as if he’d just handed her the moon, and all he could think about was kissing her.

And it was all her fault, he thought with a frown. It was that scent she wore…it was guaranteed to drive a man crazy. And then there was the way her eyes lit up when she laughed. Did she have any idea how seductive she was? Or how much he wanted to touch her…kiss her?

Suddenly realizing where his thoughts had wandered, he stiffened and silently swore under his breath. What the hell was he doing?

“All right,” Elizabeth said happily. “Where to?”

“Head over to the fence,” he growled, nodding toward the barbwire fence fifty yards to the left, “and just keep driving the fence line. If you see a break, stop so I can fix it.”

“No problem,” she said, and shot across the pasture with a gurgle of laughter.

Minx, he thought, fighting a smile. Who would have thought the very proper Elizabeth would love driving across the pasture like a wild woman?

Practicing downshifting and shifting on the fly, Elizabeth couldn’t remember the last time she had so much fun. More than once, John had to reach for the door frame to catch himself as she bounced over the rough terrain, and she caught a glimpse of his smile every time.

Then, just when she raced down a hill into a pasture that bordered a two-lane country road, she gasped at the sight of the cows that had escaped from the pasture and were walking down the road. “Oh, my God!”

Swearing, John immediately spied the break in the fence. “Dammit to hell! Pull over by that dead pine. It looks like the fence has been cut.”

Cut didn’t begin to describe it. Not only had someone cut all three strands of the barbwire that comprised the fence, but they’d also yanked two of the posts out of the ground and peeled the barbwire back. The cows didn’t even hesitate as they streamed out of the pasture and sought greener grass along the sides of the road.

“What you want me to do?” Elizabeth asked as she quickly braked to a stop next to the cut fence and jumped out of the truck at the same time John did.

“Keep the cows from straying any farther down the road,” he told her as he quickly grabbed his tools and supplies from the bed of the truck. “I’ll need your help getting the cows back in, but for now, I’ve got to get the fence posts set in the ground and close the gap some.”

Her heart jumping into her throat, Elizabeth looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You want me to do what?”

If she expected him to be amused, she was in for a rude awakening. “This is no time to be a baby,” he told her bluntly. “You’re the owner, remember? If you don’t get the cows off the road, and someone comes around the curve and plows into them, you’re not only going to have a hell of a lawsuit on your hands, you may have someone’s death on your conscience. Get to work!”

He didn’t have to tell her twice, but as she hurried through the gap in the fence and found herself approaching twenty cows who were surveying her warily, her legs all but turned to jelly. He made it sound so simple. Just round them up and herd them back into the pasture. How? They outweighed her by four hundred pounds! And they had horns…sharp horns. If they turned on her—

“They’re more scared of you than you are of them,” he said, reading her mind as he knocked a new metal fence post into the ground. “Just get behind them and spread your arms wide as you start walking toward the break in the fence. And don’t worry about getting them all in at once. Get a few in at a time, then go back for more.”

Shaking in her shoes, she fought the need to run, and carefully made a wide circle around the cows until she was behind them. Most of them ignored her, but a few at the back of the herd glanced over their shoulders with narrow-eyed frowns full of distrust.

“Show ’em who’s boss, Elizabeth. You’re good at that.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see John’s wicked grin, but she didn’t dare take her gaze off the cows. “Stuff it,” she retorted. “You better be thinking what story you’re going to tell my brother when I get killed in a stampede.”

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