Chapter 14
Dillon was up before dawn. She’d barely slept, her thoughts drifting between Legacy’s theft, the arrival of the TSCRA ranger, and Cal. She had tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up and deciding that if she was awake, she might as well get some work done.
She spent a couple of hours in her office.
When she got tired of that and still wasn’t sleepy, she did a chore she hated more than anything—cleaning toilets.
Then she found herself back in the office, taking down pictures and other items of Dolly’s to make room for her things.
It seemed wrong in a way, but she knew her aunt would have wanted her to make the place hers.
That was the only reason Dillon was able to remove the items.
When the first rays of dawn streaked across the sky, she’d already had breakfast and was leading the horses out of their stalls. Once the horses were out, she grabbed the wheelbarrow and a rake and started mucking the stalls.
“Didn’t sleep?”
The deep timbre of Cal’s voice caused chills to race across her skin. She glanced over her shoulder to find him standing outside the stall. “Not really.”
“I’m sure other things need your attention. Want me to take over?”
She shook her head as she returned to her work. “I’m good. Thanks.”
When several seconds passed without a reply, she glanced behind her to find that he was gone.
A part of her was relieved. She didn’t want to talk to anyone.
And yet . . . another part, the one that had invited him to dinner, dressed up, and asked him to sit on the porch, wished he had stayed.
Dillon wasn’t sure what to make of that other side of herself.
Sure, she got lonely. Who didn’t? But there was so much to do on the ranch that most nights she didn’t think about it. Still, other nights . . .
Dillon paused, her breathing harsh as she rested her arm atop the rake.
It wasn’t that she had closed herself off to the possibility of a relationship.
Rather, it had to do with logistics. She spent most of her time on the ranch.
The few times she got out usually had something to do with Bar 4.
The handful of other times? Well, she’d never had men beating down her door, asking her out.
She’d never gone through that long of a dry spell, either.
Some of it had been self-imposed. She’d needed time to get over her divorce and the consequences of what had happened there.
After that, she dove fully into the ranch.
It had given her a purpose, a reason to wake up each day.
It had been enough for Dolly, so she thought it would be enough for her.
Now, she wondered if she had been wrong.
All because of Cal’s arrival. Dillon didn’t want to find him attractive. She didn’t want to like him. She certainly didn’t want to feel that tingling in her stomach when he laughed or have her skin prickle at the sound of his sexy voice. But she couldn’t stop herself from reacting to any of it.
She blew out a tired breath and moved on to the next stall, though her thoughts didn’t stop whirling.
Part of her wanted to take her problems and hand them off to someone else, but she couldn’t.
She wouldn’t. No matter how tempting it was.
She had known that things would be difficult at times on the ranch.
This was one of them. And if she wanted people to take her seriously, she had to prove her worth—not just to everyone else but to herself, as well.
Dillon finished with the stalls and took the wheelbarrow to a site she had dedicated for the waste.
The minute she’d read that there was a market to sell horse manure, she’d instituted proper disposal procedures on the ranch.
It was another revenue stream that had, surprisingly, done very well.
Which was great because there was a lot of manure.
On her way back, she spotted Cal, Emmett, and Dusty going about their daily jobs.
She returned the wheelbarrow to its spot and checked her phone for the time.
She still had another hour before the ranger was due to arrive.
Dillon pocketed her cell and began spreading new bedding in the stalls.
The next time she looked up, Cal was on the other side of the stables, filling those stalls.
She finished the last stall and closed the door. When she turned around, Cal flashed her a smile. “Thanks.”
“I–” he began, but the sound of a vehicle door closing interrupted them.
Dillon hurried out of the barn to see a tall, middle-aged man standing beside a Ford F-250 truck. She caught the flash of a badge hanging around his neck. He wore a white Stetson, a simple white button-down over his extended stomach, Wranglers, and boots.
“Now it begins,” Cal said as he came up beside her.
She turned her head to him.
Cal grinned. “Ready?”
“Absolutely.”
She started toward the ranger, her blood moving like ice through her veins. She was, in turn, nervous, anxious, and frightened about what the outcome would be. Her gaze took in the older gentleman.
He was in his sixties, his long face wrinkled with time and sun exposure. He was tall, giving an air of authority, but at the same time, his brown eyes were direct and kind. She sensed that he wasn’t quite so pleasant when facing perpetrators.
“Mr. Thompson?” she asked.
“Chet, please,” he said as he held out his hand, his jowls wiggling slightly as he spoke. “I take it you’re Dillon Young?”
She shook his hand and smiled. “I am.”
“Nice place here,” he said as he looked around in admiration.
Dillon couldn’t hold back her happiness. “I love it.”
His brown eyes met hers. “Shall we get down to business?”
“Absolutely.” Dillon looked around for Emmett. She saw him near one of the paddocks and called him over. Then, she looked at Cal near the barn and motioned for him. “This is Emmett Perkins, my ranch manager. And Cal Bennett, the one who tracked the horses.”
Chet shook their hands, nodding in greeting. Then he pulled out a tape recorder. “Okay. Start from the beginning. Tell me everything that happened before the theft, all the way through this morning.”
Dillon took a deep breath and began the story. She didn’t leave anything out, including how she’d discovered Cal. The ranger gave Cal a brief look, but Chet kept his emotions behind a wall, making it impossible for her to decipher what he was thinking.
“Hold on,” the ranger stopped her when she mentioned the bit about Cal saving her. “Are you telling me that someone shot at you?”
“Twice,” Cal said before she could answer. “The second would’ve struck her.”
Chet’s lips flattened. “Things have taken a turn I didn’t expect. You left that out yesterday.”
“Not on purpose,” Dillon quickly replied. “A lot happened yesterday. Trust me. I was rattled by the attempt. I still am.” When he said nothing more, Dillon returned to her story.
Chet nodded when she finally finished. “All right, then. Now, go through all of it again, but this time walk me through your steps, starting from when you discovered the stallion gone.”
A bead of sweat ran down Dillon’s back, making her tank top beneath her shirt stick to her back.
She retraced her steps, something she had done numerous times in her mind, trying to discover if she had missed something.
They walked through the barn, looked at the empty paddock and then climbed into the UTV and drove to the area where she had looked for the stallion but had found Cal instead.
Chet took notes and lots of photos with his phone as well as continued to record. He didn’t speak. Not even when she stopped at the creek, and she and Cal demonstrated what had happened.
“Sonofabitch,” Emmet murmured when Cal pointed out how close the bullet had come to striking her.
Chet walked the area, bending to inspect the rock that the bullet had ricocheted off. He studied the space for a long time before looking over his shoulder. The three of them waited as the ranger rummaged around in the brush.
“Did any of you look for the shooter?” he asked as he faced them.
Dillon shook her head. “I just wanted to get back.”
“I was more concerned with someone firing another bullet,” Cal said. “I thought the best thing would be for Dillon to get away and to safety.”
Emmett stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “I searched this area once Dillon returned to the homestead and told me what happened. I found some grass that had been pressed down behind those trees you’re at. Figured that’s where the shooter waited.”
“It’s the perfect cover,” Chet said. “Find any shell casings?”
Emmet shook his head. “No, sir.”
Chet faced Dillon. “Why would someone want to kill you, Ms. Young?”
“Because Hank Stephens wants her land,” Emmett replied. “He’s offered to buy it four times, but she won’t sell.”
“I see. And you think he’s responsible for the theft of the stallion as well as the attempted murder?” Chet asked.
Cal lifted one shoulder. “Someone wanted Dillon to come this way.”
“You,” the ranger replied.
Dillon let out a sigh. “He saved me. If Cal had been part of it, wouldn’t he have allowed me to be shot?”
“Good point,” Chet said with a grin.
They climbed back into the UTV and returned to the ranch, where Cal went over with Chet, step by step, what he had seen and shown to Dillon about someone letting the stallion loose.
Chet compared the deputy’s photos from yesterday with what he saw himself, then nodded for Dillon to continue the story.
Instead of taking horses as she and Cal had done the day before, they used the UTV.
It was excruciating not knowing what Chet was thinking, but Dillon managed to keep her thoughts to herself.
Chet didn’t make a sound until they were at the cut fence separating her property from Ivy Ridge.
Dillon exchanged looks with Emmet and Cal at the throaty expression, but neither seemed to want to speculate what it meant.
It felt like hours before Chet finally finished his inspection, moving from her property to Hank’s. She kept looking for someone from Ivy Ridge to make an appearance, and sure enough, Hank and two of his men rode up in an ATV. Chet straightened and faced the vehicle as Hank climbed out.
“I’m Hank Stephens, the owner of Ivy Ridge. Are you the ranger from the TSCRA?”
Chet shook Hank’s hand. “I am. Chet Thompson.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Thompson. I’m sure we can get this misunderstanding cleared up,” Hank said.
Dillon tried not to smile when she noticed that Chet didn’t tell Hank to call him by his first name.
Chet smiled at Hank, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Oh, we definitely will. I was going to come see you later. But now that you’re here, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Of course.” Hank’s gaze moved to her. “I’d prefer privacy, if you don’t mind.”
“I do mind,” Chet replied.
Dillon looked at the ground and bit her lip to keep from laughing. Hank was used to getting what he wanted. The shock, followed by irritation on Hank’s face when Chet refused him, made Dillon want to do a fist pump. But she restrained herself. Again.
“Tell me, Mr. Stephens, do you know of anyone who would shoot at Ms. Young?”
Hank shook his head. “I don’t. As I told Dillon yesterday.”
Chet crossed his arms over his chest. “It appears the tracks lead right to your property.”
“I didn’t take the stallion. I don’t need to steal things when I have the funds to buy whatever I want. And I don’t appreciate being a suspect when it’s obvious Dillon did this herself.”
Fury shot through Dillon. She took a step toward Hank, ready to blast him, but Cal stepped in front of her.
“Wait,” he whispered.
Dillon glared at him before turning her attention on Hank once more. She had detested him. Now, she downright loathed him. How dare he blame her for the theft?
“I’d like to take a look around your property,” Chet said to Hank. “Since you didn’t have anything to do with stealing the stallion, I’m sure you won’t hesitate to let me have a look.”
Hank’s smile was wide. “Of course, not.”