Rawhide and Ransom (Cowboy Brand of Justice #5)

Chapter 1 No Cause to Celebrate

“Come on, Hawk!” Caro irritably tapped the toe of one of her ridiculous high-heeled red sandals. “Tell us who your mysterious visitor is.” She dramatically fluttered her hands toward the hallway, showing off her glossy, red-painted fingernails in a way that felt deliberate.

She was beautiful. Hawk Chesney would give her that. And purposely distracting. After years of working undercover with the FBI, she was very skilled at being an attention hog. At the moment, though, his co-worker’s classy new wife in her classy, city-girl jumpsuit was annoying the snot out of him.

He glared at her husband. Clint Rhodes was one of the cowboys he worked evenings and weekends with at a local dairy farm. “How about you guys answer my question first? Which one of you came up with the idea of crashing my birthday?” The one night I specifically requested to be left alone.

Nobody answered, but all eyes turned toward Ashley Cuba.

Hawk almost groaned aloud. “That figures,” he muttered. Nobody in their right mind would take offense to what Ashley had surely intended as a kind gesture. Her auburn hair was twisted in a messy bun, and the fact that she’d recently given birth to her and Johnny’s first child was hidden beneath an oversized sweatshirt.

“We were on the road, heading back from Dallas,” she explained softly, “when I realized what day it was.”

Dallas? Hawk’s heart sank. “Is everything okay with your dad?” he asked quickly.

“According to him? Yes.” The sigh in her voice told him she wasn’t entirely convinced of that fact.

Her father was a widower who’d recently gotten tangled up in a fake marriage with a felon who was now behind bars. Unfortunately, there were no recovery support groups for something like that. None that Hawk knew about, anyway. He hoped the guy had a good therapist.

“On the bright side,” she continued on a more cheerful note, “he agreed to move to Heart Lake to be closer to us. That’s something, huh?”

Johnny, who owned the dairy farm everyone in the room except Caro worked at, gave Hawk a sober nod. “He drove back with us this evening, which is how we found a babysitter on such short notice.”

Good grief! Hawk was starting to feel bad about being such a grump. Though uninvited, his friends had clearly gone to a lot of effort to show up at his cabin. “Lemme guess.” He waved irritably at his collection of mismatched leather furniture in the living room, inviting them to take a seat. “Ashley’s bleeding heart led her to call Caro, who all too willingly baked the mountain of cookies you brought over as your collective ticket through my front door?”

Clint guffawed, spreading his hands. “Why ask, since it’s obvious you already know the answer?” He snatched up two handfuls of his wife’s homemade chocolate chip cookies — Hawk’s favorite dessert on the planet — then took a running leap into the living room. He vaulted over the back of the sofa and landed on the center cushion with a thud as his boots slammed back down on the floor.

His movements jostled the top-heavy lamp on the end table to his left, making it tip. Silence fell over their gathering as everyone sucked in a breath of alarm. For a moment, the only sound in the room was the spray of water blasting from the shower head in the bathroom down the hall.

At the last possible second, Clint’s left hand shot out. It closed around the base of the lamp, righting it. Instead of apologizing or looking remotely contrite, he glanced toward the sound of the water that was running. “The sooner you answer Caro’s question, the sooner we’ll leave.”

Hawk stomped across the room to take the lamp from him and set it on the floor. “You could’ve led with that statement and saved me a major headache.” He’d been meaning to replace the base of the lamp with a heavier one. However, working three jobs didn’t leave time for non-essential home projects. He angled his head at the bar that separated the living room from the kitchen. “If anyone’s hungry, help yourself to some of the cookies Clint is dribbling all over my couch. I’ve got some chilled bottles of water and soft drinks in the fridge to wash ‘em down.”

A party host he was not. If they were disappointed in the lack of festivities, they should’ve left him alone for his birthday.

Like I wanted.

He’d genuinely been looking forward to having a rare evening off. He’d planned to watch a game of football in his workshop out back while catching up on one of his many rawhide projects. Then again, the runaway he’d discovered hiding beneath his work table had already put an end to those plans. There really wasn’t much point in taking it out on his friends.

He glanced toward the bathroom, wondering if his lovely little trespasser was going to stay in the shower until she ran his hot water tank dry. Since she was a teenager, he was betting the answer to that question was yes.

“What I’m about to tell you stays in this room,” he warned, turning around to meet the gazes of his friends one by one, “or no deal.”

Johnny lifted his Stetson to run his hand through his black hair. “I think you know us better than that, bro.”

He did, but Hawk had said what he’d said to include everyone else in the room. More specifically, everyone who wasn’t working a second job at Lonestar Security like he and Johnny were. Hawk’s third job involved pulling an occasional security detail for the chief of the Comanche reservation where he lived.

“Her name is Miley Dakota,” he stated without inflection. Or so the driver’s license she’d flashed at him stated. It could be a fake ID. There’d been no chance to verify the authenticity of it yet, though it was high on his to-do list. “She’s a runaway I found hiding in my shop.” During his rare bouts of spare time, he turned rawhide into saddles, stirrups, chaps, rugs, gloves, and more. Lately, he’d been getting so many orders for his projects, mostly saddles, that he could probably consider it a fourth job.

Clint hitched a leg over the arm of Hawk’s sofa, lounging back with an air of false contentedness that didn’t fool Hawk one bit. His eyes were snapping with curiosity. “Any idea how old she is?”

Hawk knew it was his way of asking if they needed to get Family Services involved, which they didn’t. “Eighteen.” He paused a beat before adding, “Today.” They might need to get the police involved at some point, but he needed more time to verify that, too.

“Whoa! You mean we’re celebrating two birthdays instead of one?” Caro moved across the room to perch on a bar stool beside Ashley, exchanging a wide-eyed look with her. “It’s a good thing you had me bake extra cookies, hon.”

Johnny’s gaze narrowed on Hawk as he pounced on the most concerning detail of his story. “Any idea what Miley is running from?” He was lounged beside the stool his wife was seated on, with one elbow resting on the butcher block countertop.

“Not what. Who,” a young female voice piped up from the bathroom doorway.

Hawk was impressed by the stealth of his young guest, since he hadn’t heard the door open. He gave her wet tendrils of hair dripping on her borrowed shirt and the oversized gray sweatpants bagging around her ankles an approving nod. She looked like an entirely different person now that she was clean. Her feet were bare, and her toenails were painted a bright pink. Even though it was wet, her hair had darker highlights woven throughout the blonde, which he was betting was her natural color. Back in her hometown of Turkey, Texas, she’d clearly been able to afford some “extras.”

“How’s the arm, kid?” He eyed the bandage wrapped around the cut on her arm that the P.A. from the reservation’s clinic had stitched up less than an hour ago.

“It still hurts.” She blew out a resigned breath as she darted a wary glance around the room. “Not as much as it hurts not knowing where my real mom is, though.”

Ashley leaped to her feet so quickly that she nearly knocked over the stool she’d been seated on. “What can we do to help you?” She sounded every inch like the mother bear that she was.

“Thanks, but Hawk is already helping me.” Miley shot him such a grateful look that something shifted inside his heart. “He agreed to give me a job, too, though we haven’t yet finished working out the details. I’m gonna save up for a detective to help me find my?—”

Clint’s disbelieving snort made her stop and stare at him. “Did I say something wrong?” She shrank deeper inside her baggy borrowed outfit.

Clint gave Hawk an impatient look. “Well, what are you waiting for? Tell her!”

“Tell me what?” There was a piteous note in Miley’s voice that made Hawk’s feet churn into motion.

Sensing that she was barely keeping it together, he jogged to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. He uncapped it as he strode her way and held it out to her. “How about you take a seat on the sofa next to that joker?” He angled his head at Clint. “Then we’ll talk.”

She wordlessly accepted the bottle of water, careful not to jostle the injured arm she was hugging against her middle. Then she padded toward the sofa and gingerly took a seat on the furthest edge of it.

“Oh, man!” With a gusty sigh of appreciation, she hitched herself more fully onto the sofa and sank back against the cushions. “Fair warning. I’m probably gonna fall asleep before you finish telling me whatever you’re gonna tell…” The rest of her words were swallowed by a jaw-cracking yawn. “I don’t think I snore, but my apologies if I do.” Her long eyelashes drifted down against her cheeks. They were a darker blonde than the rest of her hair.

“Miley?” Hawk squatted down in front of her to press a finger against the side of her bottle of water as it tipped precariously against her knee. “You need to keep drinking.” After everything she’d been through, she was likely in need of replenishing her fluids.

“If you say so.” Without opening her eyes, she tipped the bottle up and took a noisy gulp. Then she lowered it back to her knee. “You satisfied now, Pops?”

A snicker from Clint made Hawk’s ears burn. “Not really, but short of prying your jaws open and pouring the rest of it down you…” He left the empty threat hanging in the air between them.

“Whatever.” She cracked one eyelid open. “I think we both know your bark is worse than your bite.”

A louder snicker erupted from Clint.

Hawk sent him a dirty look, then quickly returned his attention to Miley. He was still full of questions, but she was fading fast. “Hey, kid, I need you to stay awake until we figure out our next move. From everything you’ve told us, you may be in real danger.”

She yawned again. “Just keep me alive until I wake up, okay? Then we’ll talk. I promise.” The water bottle slid from her fingers.

He caught it as it fell. Recapping it, he set it on the end table beside her. Then he lifted her feet to the couch, easing her head down on the cushioned arm of it.

Clint tossed him a throw blanket and helped him spread it over her legs. “Pops?” He playfully waggled his eyebrows, clearly fishing for an explanation.

“Shut up!” Though Hawk pretended to be irritated by his friend’s prying, he was secretly thrilled that Miley saw him as some sort of father figure. It was even more humbling to realize that she trusted him. In order to properly protect her, though, he needed to know more about what he was up against. A lot more.

“Whoa!” Ashley, who’d made a beeline to the bathroom to make a pit stop, paused in the doorway.

Hawk stood and hurried her way.

She silently stepped aside, gesturing at the trail of clothes Miley had left on the floor.

He staggered a little as the sultry heat and dampness from her shower smacked him in the face. It felt like stepping into a sauna. Slapping at the pair of wall switches, he turned on the light and the exhaust fan, further illuminating the mess his young guest left behind.

The towel she’d used had been flung crookedly over the shower curtain bar. Instead of pulling the bath rug off the side of the tub, she’d sloshed her wet feet across the tile. From the damp wad of tissues in the waste basket, it looked like she’d attempted to wipe up some of the water, but he could almost go water skiing on the small puddles she’d left untouched.

Clint joined them at the door of the bathroom, giving a small whistle at the mess inside. “Teenagers!” He crowded into the small space, bumping shoulders with Hawk as he added his clumsy assistance to the cleanup efforts. “You should see the look on your face.”

Hawk felt like he was playing a game of Twister while he picked up Miley’s discarded clothing. As he lifted her filthy jeans between his thumb and forefinger, something fell out of the back pocket and hit the floor with a thud. It was a wallet. Hot dog!

He bent to snatch it up. Then he pulled the bath towel she’d used off the shower bar and used it to mop up the rest of the water on the floor. He carried Miley’s clothing to the washer and dryer around the corner and dumped them in, carefully checking the rest of her pockets before starting the washer. The only other items he found were a few empty candy wrappers.

Poor kid! She was in need of some solid nourishment.

Flipping open Miley’s pink vinyl wallet on his way back to the living room, he studied her driver’s license. It had the extra security seal and everything. “Her license looks authentic.” He moved to the bar to hold it out to Johnny. Clint followed him.

Johnny held the driver’s license up to the ceiling light, frowning in speculation. Then his expression cleared. “Yep, it’s real.” He scanned the front and back of it. “Turkey has a small population. It shouldn’t be too hard to ask around about her and her family.” He handed the license back to Hawk. “Any idea who she’s running from?”

“No, and I’m not sure she does either.” Hawk’s voice was grim. “She claims her real mom is missing, and the woman she crawled through a broken window to get away from is an imposter.”

“Well, that’s a story you don’t hear every day.” Caro gestured at him to give her a look at the driver’s license, and he handed it to her. She had some pretty cool investigative experience under her belt, and he needed all the help he could get.

“I wonder why she didn’t go to the police about this.” Clint bent his head next to Caro’s to examine the driver’s license. Other than Miley, he was the only one in the cabin without a background in either law enforcement or security.

Ashley exited the bathroom and returned to the kitchen in time to hear his question. “Maybe she was afraid the police would take her back home.” Though she was a full-time dairy farmer now, she’d once served as a police detective in Dallas and a P.I. for a short period of time afterward.

“That’s what I was thinking.” Caro handed the driver’s license back to Hawk and pulled out her cell phone. “Maybe it’s time to find out what’s really going on in Turkey, Texas.”

The rest of them followed her lead and pulled out their cell phones, searching online for any information they could find about the Dakota family from Turkey, Texas.

Ashley caught her lower lip between her teeth. “According to the obituary I’m reading, her dad died less than a year ago.”

“Yeah, she mentioned that.” Hawk scowled over the search results that popped up on his phone screen. “She also said something about a bunch of weird stuff happening to her mom ever since they buried him.”

“Like the fact that their farm burned down?” Caro looked alarmed by whatever she was reading on her cell phone.

“When?” Hawk demanded.

“Three weeks ago,” she supplied in a troubled voice.

“Miley didn’t mention anything about a fire.” He wracked his brain for a reason why she might’ve left that detail out. “Maybe she doesn’t know about it yet.” It was starting to sound like her family was cursed. That, or they were being deliberately targeted.

“Hoh, boy,” Johnny muttered as he scrolled through the search results on his phone. “Not only did the home Miley grew up in burn down, her family’s farm just finished going belly up.”

All Hawk could do was shake his head. It felt like there were way too many bad things happening to the runaway teenager’s family to be a coincidence. He was more convinced than ever that she was in danger. Real danger. Her missing mother was likely in the same danger, assuming she hadn’t perished in the fire. He double-checked the article he was browsing but couldn’t find any mention of casualties.

The headline of another article caught his attention. It was titled Gilbert Farm Faces Foreclosure. He clicked on it to pore over its contents and learned that Miley’s late father, Chayton Dakota, had possessed a legendary green thumb. After being raised by the owner of a much bigger commercial farm, he’d fallen in love with the daughter of a smaller competitor, married her, and adopted her daughter.

He’d gone on to take Gilbert Farm to new heights with his zero-pesticides farming and non-GMO approach. Under his management, Gilbert Farm had become known as a hub for home-grown, organic goodness. Online reviews cited their crops as wholesome enough to go from the corn row to the backyard grill, from the berry patch to the cobbler, and from the hot pepper plants straight into the salsa.

The other notable detail about the late Chayton Dakota was his Native American heritage. His online photo displayed a copper-skinned man with shoulder-length black hair like Hawk’s. Toward the end of the article, the writer gave a one-sentence nod to his Comanche heritage, mentioning somewhat off-handedly that his estranged uncle was a member of the tribal council on the reservation Hawk was currently standing on.

Hawk couldn’t have been more floored. Because he’d been born and raised on the rez himself, he happened to be very well acquainted with the members of the Comanche tribal council. In fact, the councilman in question was his mentor. They were like family to each other.

Until this very moment, Hawk had assumed he was all the family Running Bear had left. All the family that mattered, at any rate. A few short months ago, the love of Running Bear’s life had passed; and, according to him, his remaining family wanted nothing to do with him. It was starting to feel like there was more to the story, though — much more. It was a shock to learn that Running Bear’s nephew was dead. Did Running Bear even know?

And his niece is asleep in my living room. There was no way the councilman knew that part.

Johnny must have been reading the same online article or a similar one, because he glanced up from his phone to give Hawk an assessing look. “It’s starting to feel like less and less of a coincidence that Miley showed up at your place.”

“How so?” Hawk could easily imagine what he was thinking, but he still wanted to hear his friend say it.

“Miley’s late father was Comanche, the same as you.” Johnny held up his phone so Hawk could see what he was reading. “Might be a coincidence. Might not.”

“I’m leaning toward the might not theory.” Hawk made a mental note to track down Running Bear before nightfall to ask him what he knew about his nephew’s death, if anything.

Caro produced another photo and held it up to him. The caption beneath it told him he was looking at Miley’s parents. “This is her mom, Annalee Gilbert.” Eighteen-year-old Miley was the spitting image of the slender blonde woman in the picture. “She kept her maiden name when she got married, possibly for business purposes.” Miley’s last name, however, was Dakota, the same last name as Running Bear whose legal name was Uri Dakota.

Hawk’s gaze moved to the Native American man holding Miley’s mom within the circle of his arms, a man who’d willingly taken on the responsibly of fatherhood, adopted Miley, and raised her like she was his own. Was that why Miley had found it so easy to call Hawk things like Dad and Pops today? Do I remind her of the stepdad she lost?

He wasn’t near ready to stop looking at the photo when Caro pulled her phone back. His mind was working a mile a minute, trying to piece together all the new information they’d uncovered. “Since Miley’s mom has only been missing for about three weeks,” he mused, “we have to assume we’re looking at the real Annalee in these photos. Miley hasn’t given me many details yet about the woman she claims is an imposter, but you heard her promise to tell us more when she wakes up.”

Another possibility was that she’d had some sort of argument with her mom. A lot of kids went through phases like that, which left them wondering if they were adopted or abducted by aliens. However, this didn’t sound like one of those kinds of altercations. Miley also didn’t impress him as an unstable kid prone to making stuff up.

Caro sent Ashley a sideways look. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Ashley chuckled. “If you’re thinking we’re a lot closer to Miley’s size than Hawk is, then yes. You’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“That’s okay. You don’t need to go to that kind of trouble,” Hawk said quickly. “I already told her I’ll take her shopping tomorrow.”

“Is that wise?” Caro looked concerned. “It might be better to keep her out of the public eye for now.” She cast a worried look at the sleeping teenager on the couch. “At least until we know what we’re up against.”

“She’s right.” Clint nodded sagely. “We don’t even know if we’re dealing with one criminal or many.”

“We?” Hawk glanced around the group in surprise. Though they were his friends, Hawk was accustomed to feeling like the odd man out. Not only was he nearly a decade older than the rest of them, he was the only member of their group who was still single. Not in a million years had he expected them to drop everything like this and make his problem their problem.

“Yes, we !” Johnny scowled at him. “You’re always there for us. We’re gonna be here for you.”

Hawk wasn’t sure he was ready to drag them any further into it. “You do realize I haven’t vetted her story yet?”

Johnny shrugged. “You have good instincts. What are they saying?”

Hawk glanced Miley’s way again. “They say she’s telling the truth.” Based on what he’d just finished reading online, it was possible he had a newly orphaned teenager on his hands. It was a gut-wrenching thought.

Johnny’s jaw tightened. “Then as far as I’m concerned, we have a missing single mom to hunt down. One who sounds like she may be in as much danger as her daughter is.”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

Caro moved toward the door. “Clint will drive me home so I can grab a couple of changes of clothing for her.”

Clint grinned and swung his fist through the air. “Yes, I will.” His voice was comically dry as he absorbed his marching orders, but the look he gave his wife was filled with indulgent pride.

“I can throw together some toiletries and other stuff for her,” Ashley offered.

“I already took care of that,” Hawk protested. “I may be a guy who lives alone, but I own soap.”

Ashley arched her eyebrows at him. “What about a stick of deodorant that doesn’t smell like men’s aftershave?”

Okay, he hadn’t thought about that. He held up his hands in surrender. “You may have a point.”

While his friends drove off to gather supplies for Miley, he moved across the living room to set her wallet on the end table next to her bottle of water. Then he dragged out his laptop. So much for his plans to spend the evening watching football and carving on a new saddle. Instead, he grabbed another cookie to munch on and resumed his online research into the Dakota family and Gilbert Farm. This was no time to kick back and relax. Johnny was right. They had a missing woman to find.

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