Twelve #2
before when one of the cattle trucks ran over a weak spot. That would have to be replaced quickly, John thought, and made a mental note of it as he led the bull over the board and shooed it into the pasture, closing the
gate behind it.
Meanwhile, Josie was just starting to come back from the highway when a vehicle veered, and she jumped into the ditch headfirst
to avoid being knocked down. The car blew its horn and took off down the highway at an incredible rate of speed.
John was cussing as he ran back toward her. He jumped into the ditch and picked her up bodily. She looked dazed and she was shaking from the close call. John was furious with no way to hide it.
“I’ll find that guy if it takes the rest of my life,” he said hotly, and added a few choice words. “Are you all right?” he
asked in a tone he’d never used to her.
She looked up into silvery blue concerned eyes and tried to get her mind to work, but it wouldn’t. Her whole body was hot,
trembly. She told herself it was from the near miss, but it was more likely John’s proximity. His arms tightened and he held
her close against his broad chest. He smelled of freshly laundered shirt and some spicy soap and cologne and leather; familiar
smells.
After a minute she found her voice. “I’m okay,” she said. “Just a little shaken.”
“I’d love to know why the hell he made a dead set at you,” he growled. “He almost ran off the road trying to get you.”
She wondered if one of the drug lord’s minions had sent someone to warn her in a non-verbal way to keep her mouth shut around
the ranch. It had been a fairly close call, but any potential assassin wouldn’t have swerved. It rattled her. She still wasn’t
sure which of the drug lords Raines was really working for; in fact, that she herself was working for. It was like inching
around in the dark.
She caught her breath and answered John. “I told you,” she said, still shaking. “I have enemies.”
“Yes,” he replied. “I noticed the gun.”
One of his arms at her back was just above the pancake concealed-carry holster she was wearing under her shirt. “Do you always
carry that thing?” he asked.
“I have to,” she said in a trembly voice. “I have enemies who would kill me.”
For the first time John felt something building in the pit of his stomach, something he couldn’t put a name to.
She was so self-sufficient, so capable; but like this she was soft and warm, and, though he hated the word, cuddly.
He reminded himself that it would be like cuddling a rattlesnake and probably cuddling Precious would be safer. But she had grit.
“You can put me down now,” she said unsteadily and avoided his eyes.
Instead, he drew her closer for just a minute, and his deep voice was at her ear as he whispered, “Are you sure you want me
to?” he asked softly.
Her reaction fascinated him. She blushed and averted her eyes and looked vaguely terrified. He was storing up all these little
facts for later, although he didn’t know what he was going to do with them. But he put her down very slowly, very carefully,
back on her booted feet.
He pulled out his cell phone and started giving orders right and left. One was a description of the car that had almost hit
Josie. He wanted his foreman to ask the cowboys if anybody had seen it around the neighborhood before. When he hung up, he
turned to the cowboy who’d come with them and told him to get somebody to fix that grate today. The cowboy nodded and rushed
back up the driveway. John and Josie started walking back across the grate, letting the bull tromp on top of the board so
that it didn’t fall through. But he closed the gate behind him. He phoned his foreman again to emphasize that the grate had
to be fixed today, no matter what it cost, and told him that the gate would have to be watched until it was done. The foreman
assured him that he’d be sure the gate was answered promptly if somebody needed to get in who wasn’t on the ranch payroll;
the gate was automatic if you know to work the mechanism. For outsiders, there was a button that allowed the visitor to speak
to whoever was in charge of it that day.
Before they got to the house, still walking, John’s last call was to Sheriff Marlowe.
He told him about the speeding car that had almost hit Josie and gave a description.
Marlowe replied that he’d have his deputies keep a lookout for it just in case it was somebody looking for retribution.
Privately, Marlowe wondered if it was something to do with Velasquez and if the drug lord had somehow found out more about Josie than he should.
It was a worrying thought. She was a brave young woman, but Velasquez had been in the business for many years, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who got in his way.
John led the bull back to the barn and its adjoining paddock and coaxed him inside. He closed the gate back with an audible
sigh.
“He’s more like a puppy dog than a huge bull,” Josie laughed.
John glanced at her with twinkling eyes. “We train them to do that,” he confided. “An animal that size, with a horn and a
bad attitude, could cause a lot of trouble.”
“I know,” she replied. She had one foot on the bottom rung of the wooden fence and stared through the rungs at the big bull,
who was grazing on one of the big round bales of hay as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “My grandad ran a cow-calf
operation,” she recalled softly. “But he loved his bulls. They were like yours. Not expensive, I mean, but gentle. Granddad
was a big guy, but he said size wasn’t anything if you had a mad, mean bull headed right for you.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed, propping a big, booted foot on the lower rung of the fence. “That’s two generations on one ranch.”
He glanced at her. “And your father’s going to sell it?” he asked.
She sighed. “Dad doesn’t have sentimental feelings for anything. Or anyone, really,” she said matter-of-factly. “I think he
loved my mother when they married, but they were too different. He was more into material things. She was idealistic to a
fault.”
He studied her red-gold hair in its neat ponytail. “Which of your parents had red hair?” he wondered.
She laughed. “Neither. I get my hair from my grandfather, although his was more auburn than red.”
“Didn’t your father like ranching?”
She shrugged. “At first. But it was my mother’s people who owned it originally. Dad was a city boy. He came from Billings,
Montana. His uncle was buying cattle and Mom’s dad, my granddad, had a sale. That’s how they met. It was unusual to find a
really pretty rancher’s daughter in those days, but my mother was a knockout,” she added with a smile. “She had long, wavy
blond hair and green eyes and a beautiful figure.” She sighed. “I figured that her body was the main attraction to Dad, not
her fascination with helping people. It was a bad marriage. They argued all the time when I was a kid, although not when Granddad
was around. He never liked Dad. It was mutual. Dad wouldn’t even come to his funeral.”
“Was it long ago?”
“About ten years,” she said. “He’s buried next to Granny in the family cemetery. So is my mom.” Her face tautened. “Dad said
he’d see about moving the graves.”
“That must hurt, giving up so much family history,” he said solemnly.
“It really hurts. But I don’t know enough about ranching to run a ranch the size of my grandfather’s. I’m not even sure how
many cattle are still there. Dad had a foreman in place who seemed pretty competent. At least, Dad’s still able to attract
women and that takes money, so I guess the ranch pays its way.”
“Doesn’t he help you?” he asked curiously.
“I support myself,” she said heavily. She looked up at John. “Frankly, I’d starve to death before I asked my father for a
crumb of bread.”
He shook his head. “I’m truly sorry. It’s not like that with my family.”
“No, it’s not,” she said, and her voice softened. “Your parents are incredible. So are your sister and brother and your in-laws. You landed in a great place when you were born.”
He smiled without sarcasm. “I was blessed, all right. Doubly blessed, if I include getting my big brother back in one piece
not too long ago.”
She glanced at him. “Is it something you can talk about? I mean, I know about him being a former government agent and somebody
trying to kill him . . . ?”
“We talk about it anyway,” he said. “There was a deadly incident overseas. Tanner’s boss was involved. Tanner and one or two
other people saw it firsthand, but Tanner was the only one who was willing to talk about it. His boss tried to have him killed
overseas. We were convinced he was dead. But we have some unusual friends.” He laughed. “Tony Garza had connections to a bigger
crime boss in the Bahamas. They helped us rescue Tanner and bring him home.”
“Wow.” She was thinking fast. She knew he meant Marcus Carrera, who had a huge casino in the Bahamas. Carrera knew her, because
he’d helped them with a case in the past. But Tony, the New Jersey boss, wouldn’t know her. “Are any of them coming for Christmas?”
she asked.
“Not likely. The Carreras are expecting again, so they’ll stay close to home. And Tony . . .” He hesitated. “We never know
about Tony. I’m fairly certain that he’s crazy about my sister and vice versa, but so far they’re more likely to kill each
other than celebrate a holiday together.”
“Your sister-in-law works for Mr. Garza, doesn’t she?”
She couldn’t help but notice him stiffen at just the mention of Stasia. “Yes. He’s been very good to her,” he said.
She studied his taut face. “You know, sometimes things don’t work out because something more perfect is waiting just down
the road.”
He turned toward her, eyes glittering, spoiling for a fight. “Are you trying to say something?”
She drew in a long breath. “All my life, I’ve wanted things that I thought I’d die for, only to have them slip right through