Dropping The Hammer

“Certainly seems that way,” Luke agreed.

“I’m real sorry about your father’s stroke,” Buck said. “I didn’t really know him very well, but all the same I sure feel bad for him and you.”

“I appreciate that.”

“I heard a dog barking when I came up. Is that Alfred’s dog?”

“Nope. You probably heard Marley. He belongs to one of the cowboys who’s working the critters. He brings him with him some days.”

“That’s a nice-looking horse you’re riding,” Luke said.

“Yep. Wish Lucky was mine. She’s one hell of a cow pony.”

“How many horses does Albert have?”

“Eight quarter horses that he keeps in his new fancy horse barn. Those are his pride and joy. Gonna be tough on your dad if he can’t ride anymore.”

“Hopefully that won’t be the case.”

“He also has three other cow ponies and one good cutter. They have stalls at the back of the old barn when they’re not loose in the pasture.”

“What’s the size of the cattle herd?”

“I don’t have the exact numbers, but I s’pect your dad has a hundred or so Black Angus and damn near that many Santa Gertrudis. That’s just an estimate. Numbers change, of course, depending on when he takes the beef to market and how many calves are born in the spring.”

“That sounds like a lot of work for a man who’s almost seventy to manage,” Luke said.

“He always kept a few hired hands around until he got mad about something and ran them off. He had two hired hands when he had the stroke. They weren’t from around here. Just showed up from somewhere in Oklahoma around Thanksgiving looking for work. They disappeared when Albert had his stroke and wasn’t around to pay them.”

Luke couldn’t really blame them for that. He couldn’t imagine Albert had done anything to deserve a lot of loyalty from them.

He and Buck talked for a few minutes more, long enough to convince Luke that the ranch was not as neglected as the house.

He waited until Buck rode away before stepping inside. Déjà vu hit with a wallop. Memories, both bad and good, came crashing down on him.

It got worse when he reached the kitchen. He leaned against the counter and would have sworn he could smell frying chicken. His mother’s shiny black hair would dance about her shoulders as she cooked and she’d be humming the latest hit from the pop chart. Her lips would shimmer with a bright shade of lipstick.

Before everything had gone bad. So many, many years ago.

Luke shut down the recollections before the bittersweet turned to just plain bitter. It was after three in the afternoon, and darkness set in early in January.

From all accounts, his father was being well cared for and might even be asleep for the night before Luke could make the drive to San Antonio, where he was recovering. A visit with him could wait until tomorrow.

Luke would spend the last of the daylight hours checking out the ranch by horseback.

Suddenly he found himself downright eager to get back in the saddle again. Or maybe he was just glad of an excuse to avoid seeing Alfred for one more day.

Chapter Three

Rachel shrugged out of her navy blue blazer and draped it over the arm of the comfortable wing chair before taking a seat in her psychologist’s office. Her first visits to Dr. Stephen Lindquist’s had been awkward and strained and had always ended with her in tears.

That had been in late September, during the first weeks after she’d been rescued by her sister, Sydney, and Sydney’s now husband, Tucker Lawrence. Rachel had been a total wreck then, the panic attacks hitting with excessive regularity and crippling ferocity.

Work was impossible. Sleep deprivation was taking its toll.

Not atypical with her degree of post-traumatic stress, Dr. Lindquist had assured her. His skill and easy manner had quickly won her over, yet she wasn’t making the kind of progress she’d hoped for.

She couldn’t bring herself to talk about her experience in captivity. Couldn’t deal with the fact that if her sister and Tucker had come moments later she would have been burned alive.

Talking or thinking about it brought it all back to life.

Dr. Lindquist settled in his rustic-brown leather chair. “Good to see you, Rachel.”

“Thanks for fitting me in on a Friday afternoon with such short notice,” she said.

“You sounded a bit panicky on the phone.”

“I was. I am.” She clasped her hands in her lap. “I had a major meltdown at work this morning.” Her voice cracked. She wrapped her arms around her chest as if that could calm her shattered nerves.

“Take a few deep breaths,” Dr. Lindquist suggested. “There’s no rush. You’re my last appointment for the day. You have me as long as you need me.”

“Thanks, but you may be sorry you offered that.”

“I won’t be. Is it the nightmares again?”

“No, though I still have them from time to time. It’s just that every time I seem to be getting in control of my fears, something happens to send me back into the self-destruction spiral.”

“You’re dealing with a lot. A little backsliding is to be expected. We’ve talked about that.”

“I know. But this is more than a little backsliding. I may have blown my career.”

The doctor crossed an ankle over his knee. “Why don’t you tell me what happened from the beginning?”

“I suppose you’ve heard that Senator Covey’s son, Hayden, has been arrested.”

“No way to miss it. The murder of his ex-girlfriend is dominating the news. I’m sure the senator and his wife are devastated.”

“And desperate. I didn’t know it until this morning, but the senator is a good friend of my boss, Eric Fitch Sr.”

“Guess that means your firm will be defending Hayden.”

“It looks that way. I was offered the chance to be the lead attorney in charge of his defense.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Troubled. Confused. Anxious.” Her muscles tightened and she felt a nagging ache at her right temple.

“It’s the kind of high-profile case that can make or break a defense attorney,” she continued, “the kind of opportunity I’ve been waiting for. The kind I thought I was ready for.”

“And now you’re not sure. What changed your mind?”

“Doubts that I can handle the job. Thoughts that I don’t want to handle the job.”

He leaned in closer. “Go on.”

“Senator and Mrs. Covey brought their son into the office this morning for a preliminary interview. As I shook hands with Hayden, I stared into the cold, barren intensity of his predatory eyes and an icy shiver ran though me. In that second, it was as if I knew that he was capable of murder.

“No evidence had been presented. It was nothing Hayden had said or done. I just looked into his eyes and saw Roy Sales.”

“What did you do?”

“I mumbled something about feeling ill, which I was, and then stood and staggered out of the meeting.”

Rachel covered her eyes with her hands, fighting back salty tears of frustration. Her life had changed forever. Now the past was destroying her career with no relief in sight.

“If it turns out Hayden Covey is guilty of the brutal murder of his former girlfriend, I’d say your assessment of him is right on target,” the doctor said.

“Which doesn’t excuse my unprofessional behavior.”

“Have you talked to your boss about the incident?”

“Not yet. I think he was with the Coveys the rest of the morning, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time until he confronts me about my reaction. I’ll be lucky if I’m not fired. My boss put me to the test and I failed miserably.”

“Failure is a strong word.”

“And not one I’m used to,” she admitted. “But nothing is what I’m used to anymore and I’m tired of having my friends and coworkers feel sorry for me instead of seeing me as an equal.”

“I’m sure most of them mean well,” Dr. Lindquist said.

“I know, but it’s not the way I want to live.”

“Maybe it’s time you changed your life. Go somewhere where everyone doesn’t know about your past.”

“You’re starting to sound like my sister, Dr. Lindquist, and I get her advice for free.”

“What kind of advice does she give you?”

“Stop putting so much pressure on myself. She thinks I should quit the firm and spend some time finding myself again—away from the world of defending people accused of violent crimes.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“You know, Doctor, sometimes I wish you’d just give me answers instead of trying to lead me to work my way through the impossible maze.”

An unexpected smile touched the doctor’s lips. “Sometimes I wish I could, too. Unfortunately, that’s not the way this works. The real answers must come from you.

“So, back to the question. How do you feel about Sydney’s suggestion that you take a less stressful job for a while, maybe a change of scenery, as well?”

“It feels like I’d be giving up. It feels like I would have lost and Roy Sales has won.”

“Any other considerations?”

As usual, she had the feeling Dr. Lindquist was seeing right through her. “There are times I long to walk away from it all,” she admitted reluctantly. “But working for a prominent law firm was the dream that got me through law school. So much time and work have been invested into that dream. I can’t just throw that away.”

“Sometimes dreams change.”

“Or they can be changed for you.”

“Have you considered other career options?”

“Not exactly, but I have a friend who specializes in working with charitable organizations—handles lawsuits and tax issues for them and works with people who wish to set up foundations or donate money in their wills. She loves it. Says she always feels like she’s on the right side.”

“That has a lot of plusses?” the doctor said.

“Then is just walking away from my job what you think I should do?”

“It’s what you think you should do that matters, Rachel. I don’t see that as giving up. Sometimes changing life paths is the most difficult decision of all.”

“I never looked at it that way.”

“You’re a tough, smart woman with good instincts. You’ll make the right decision for you. It just takes time.”

“You have more confidence in me than I do in myself.”

“You’ll get there. I am puzzled, though, why Eric Sr. didn’t just take the lead on this case himself.”

“He’s concerned his friendship with the senator might bias the jury against him. And he claims that I’d be more effective at convincing the jury of Hayden’s innocence.”

“Because of your own past? Your opinion of Hayden Covey would likely count for a lot, considering what you’ve been through.”

She thought painstakingly about Dr. Lindquist’s comment and then cringed as the truth about Eric’s more likely motives took root. He didn’t think she was the most capable defense attorney at the firm.

He was using her, putting his faith in the jurors pitying her and believing she’d never defend Hayden unless she fully believed in his innocence.

Her insides twisted. She had no proof of the theory, but it made sense. How had she not seen that before?

By the time the session with Dr. Lindquist was finished and she reached her car, her decision had been made.

If she hurried, she could catch the most senior partner before he left the office.

She couldn’t go on being a victim forever. She had to fight back.

Chapter Four

A light rain dotted her windshield as Rachel exited the multilevel parking garage at her firm and started toward home. Her emotions still on a roller coaster, the ringing of her phone startled her.

She checked the caller ID on the hands-free display. Her sister, Sydney. She took the call, though she’d hoped not to share her big announcement with her sister until she’d gotten used to it herself.

“Good evening, Sydney. How’s the world inside the FBI this Friday night?”

“Urgent and crisis-filled, as usual, though I plan not to think about that his weekend. I’m only a few miles from Winding Creek now. I’ll be there for dinner with Esther and the rest of the family. When are you arriving?”

When was she arriving? Oh, God. “This is the weekend of Grace’s baby shower, isn’t it?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot, Rachel.”

“Okay. I won’t tell you. When is the shower?”

“Tomorrow afternoon at three. It’s at Dani’s Delights. Dani is closing the bakery early for the party. It’s a really big deal. Half the women in town are coming. Everybody loves Grace.”

“Me included,” Rachel said, “but...”

“She’ll be very disappointed if you’re not here. Besides, you and I haven’t gotten together since Christmas. I’m really looking forward to seeing you.”

“Yeah. I’d like to see you, too,” she admitted, suddenly realizing just how much. “I’ll start out early in the morning. I’m far too tired to make that drive tonight.”

“Super, though I was hoping you’d taken the afternoon off and were coming in tonight so we could have one of our all-talk and no-sleep slumber parties the way we used to.”

“You mean back before you had a gorgeous husband to keep you entertained at night?”

“Right. But he’s competing in a rodeo in Longview tonight and tomorrow morning, so he won’t make it here until late tomorrow afternoon. The good news is we’re both taking Monday and Tuesday off.”

“So I’m second choice?”

“Yep. But I just checked the radar and it shows a line of thundershowers moving into the area over the next few hours, so it’s just as well you’re not driving this way now.”

“I do hate driving in the rain.”

“You did forget, though. I mean, there’s nothing going on there that made you have second thoughts about coming?”

Sydney never took things at face value. It was all that FBI training, Rachel expected. But her insight hit too close to home far too often.

“What are you intimating, my crime-fighting sister?”

“Just wondering if it’s the thought of returning to Winding Creek that’s really bothering you.”

“No,” she lied. “I’m fine with Winding Creek.”

“Then promise you’re not going to make some new excuse to get out of coming tomorrow so you can stay home and work. You need a break.”

Yes, she did. She hadn’t intended to just blurt out her news, but there was no real reason to keep it a secret.

“I know you’re sitting down, since you’re driving,” Rachel said, “but prepare yourself for a shock.”

“You’ve met a man?”

“Gads. That’s the last thing I need.”

“A matter of opinion. Then what is it?”

“I will no longer be overworking. As of about thirty minutes ago, I don’t have a job or a career. I did make off with a few company pens, though, as I stormed out of the building.”

“You got fired?”

“No. I beat old Fitch to it. I quit.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope. In fact, I may be as shocked as you that I quit, but it felt right. Still does. But also a bit scary.”

“I can’t wait to hear all the details. But let me just say, I’m in favor of the decision. And you haven’t lost a career permanently. You’re still a dynamite attorney. You’ll land on your feet somewhere where they don’t expect you to give up sleep permanently in exchange for billable hours.”

“I hope you’re right. We’ll talk more when I get there.”

“Now I really can’t wait to see you. Actually, the whole family will be thrilled to see you again. Esther asks about you every time we talk.”

Esther was a jewel. So were all three of the Lawrence brothers and their families who had come home to Winding Creek and to Esther Kavanaugh.

The only problem was that the warm and loving family members were Sydney’s in-laws—not Rachel’s.

“Don’t mention my quitting my job to anyone else just yet.”

“I’ll have to tell Tucker. We talk about everything, but I’ll tell him to keep it under his hat.”

Rachel’s new life was off and running—ready or not.

* * *

RACHEL KEPT HER eyes on the passing scenery, watching for the gate to the Double K Ranch. All things considered, she was feeling surprisingly upbeat, or at least several notches above gloom.

Perhaps the reality that she was unemployed for the first time since she’d graduated from law school hadn’t fully sunk in. Or maybe Sydney was right about her needing a mental, emotional and physical break from the stress that Fitch, Fitch and Baumer provided.

The sun claimed dominance over a few cumulus clouds. Michael Bublé was crooning on her car’s radio. And she was actually going to spend two full days with her sister instead of driving back home on Sunday morning to a crush of paperwork.

She basically had nothing on her plate in the foreseeable future except freedom and possibly a few hours doing wrap-up at the office. She’d offered two weeks’ notice. A shocked and irritated Eric Fitch Sr. had said that wasn’t necessary.

All he needed was a verbal agreement that she would answer any questions that might arise concerning cases she’d been involved with. Eric Fitch Jr. had come by while she was collecting her personal belongings and tried to talk her into staying, assuring her he’d cleared the offer with his dad.

He’d offered a raise. She’d been tempted, but not enough to stay.

Lost in her thoughts again, she almost missed the Double K’s metal gate and had to throw on her brakes to keep from passing it by. She made the turn too fast, skidding across a wet patch of grass that bordered the ranch road.

She slowed and stopped at the closed and latched gate. Esther had talked about putting in an automatic gate opener to save herself having to get out in the weather. Obviously that was still on her to-do list. Neither weather nor much else slowed down Esther Kavanaugh.

Rachel switched the gear to Park but kept the motor running. She’d opened the door and was about to climb from behind the wheel when she was startled by the clattering engine noise of another vehicle.

She checked the rearview mirror. An old, mud-encrusted pickup truck had made the turn and had followed her to the gate. The male driver stopped mere inches behind her, blocking her between his front bumper and the closed gate.

She jerked her door closed and pushed the lock button. Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. Her lungs burned. Her stomach churned sickeningly.

The driver got out of his truck and started toward her. She switched the gear to Drive and poised her foot on the accelerator. If he so much as touched her car, she would ram through the gate, knocking it from its hinges. She wouldn’t stop until she reached Esther’s house.

As the man neared, he smiled and tipped his gray Stetson. Nothing about him looked dangerous. His smile was anything but threatening. Telling herself that only barely eased her surge of apprehension.

She clutched the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.

The cowboy sauntered past her locked door, walked to the front of her car and unlatched the gate. He was opening the door for her. She took a deep breath and let her fingers relax their hold on the steering wheel.

The gate swung open and the cowboy motioned her through—an extremely good-looking cowboy, though she hadn’t noticed that before. She lowered her window and waved as she drove past him.

Her pulse was back to near normal by the time she reached the rambling ranch house. The sight of Esther’s house had a further calming effect on her.

Colorful pillows adorned the wide porch swing. Painted rocking chairs were pulled up to a round table topped with a pot of colorful pansies. A clump of sweet alyssum huddled next to the steps. Winter jasmine climbed the railings on the north end of the porch.

Rachel parked in the gravel drive on the far side of the house, a recent addition that kept visitors from dodging mud holes on mornings such as this.

Once more, the cowboy parked behind her. This time she waited for him to get out of the truck. The unwarranted panic attack had passed.

“Thanks for handling the gate chores,” she said.

“My pleasure.” He pointed to his worn Western boots. “Those high-heeled fancy boots you’re wearing don’t look like they’d take too well to mud. These goat-ropers are made for chunking through whatever they face.”

“Goat-roper?”

“Just a term. I don’t really rope goats in them—not that I couldn’t.”

“I’ll bet.”

He extended his hand. “Luke Dawkins. The prodigal son of Alfred Dawkins, returning to Winding Creek for duty.”

She slid her hand into his much larger one. An unexpected wave of awareness zinged through her. That frightened her almost as much as her initial reaction to him had. “Rachel Maxwell. I’m Sydney Lawrence’s sister, just visiting—no duty.”

She waited for the look of pity that frequently followed the act of telling anyone her name. There was none. Evidently he didn’t know of her past. The chances were slim to none she could keep it that way.

They started up the wide wooden steps to the porch together. Their arms brushed. Her first impulse was to pull away from him. She didn’t.

Before she had time to ring the bell, the door opened and Sydney appeared, with Esther a step behind. “You made it,” Esther said.

Sidney spotted Luke and looked shocked. “And you bought a guest.”

“Not intentionally,” Luke said. “I’m just a stray who followed her home. Luke Dawkins.”

“A prodigal son,” Rachel offered to fill a sudden, awkward silence on Sydney’s part.

“Well, of course you are,” Esther said, pushing to the front. “You haven’t changed a bit, Luke, except for that facial hair. Just threw me off that you arrived with our Rachel.”

“What can I say? When a beautiful woman shows up, I don’t argue with fate.”

“You’re in your dad’s truck,” Esther said, leaning over to look past them. “Hope that’s not all you have to get around in. To hear Alfred tell it, it only runs half the time.”

“I was afraid it wouldn’t make it here,” Luke admitted. “But I have my own truck back at the ranch, so if this one makes it back home, I’ll park it and leave it until I can get it tuned up.”

Luke touched a hand to the small of Rachel’s back as they stepped inside.

Once again, her nerves zinged.

It couldn’t get any crazier than this.

Chapter Five

Luke’s ego took a blow. He was definitely the odd man out where the two sisters were concerned. They were both talking at once, the topics changing as fast as if this were a game-show lightning round. He didn’t even try to keep up.

Within ten minutes Sydney and Rachel excused themselves to go wrap gifts for an afternoon baby shower. Luke watched Rachel walk away. She was hot as a bonfire and there was no gold band on her ring finger.

If he were planning to stick around awhile, he’d hit on her big-time, though she was probably miles out of his league. But as soon as he figured out what to do about his father and the Arrowhead Hills Ranch, he was out of here.

Unless Alfred kicked him out sooner.

“It’s good to have you here in my house again after so many years,” Esther said once they were alone. “You’ve grown into a fine-looking young man. Your mother would have been mighty proud of you.”

“Thanks. Being here reminds me of her.”

“She was a very special woman, one of the best friends I’ve had in my life, even though she was a couple of decades younger and had four times the energy I did. I miss her to this day, but it’s probably not the best time for going all syrupy. I know you’re here to talk about Alfred’s problems.”

“I am,” he agreed. “I still don’t know much more than what you told me on the phone. The rehab center is not big on giving out information other than what’s on his chart. Assisted shower at eight. Occupational therapy scheduled for one. That and other equally unhelpful info.”

“Did you talk to the medical supervisor where he’s staying or the doctor who cared for him in the hospital?”

“I’ve talked to both with equally worthless results. The doctor quoted some medical jargon to describe the stroke and possible causes but didn’t give me anything definite on the prognosis. He insisted there was no way to be certain at this point if or how long Alfred would need permanent care. I’m supposed to meet with the medical supervisor this afternoon.”