Chapter Nine
Audra ended up having to put off doing her chores so she could list her half siblings who refused to talk to her for Copeland, and then give him the folder full of paperwork on her father’s death.
At least the paperwork that had been given to her.
She suspected his other wife and kids might have some of their own that Audra had never seen.
She’d been fine with that. Maybe she loved her father, but she’d been happy for whatever he’d given to his other family to stay with them. Happy to wash her hands of whatever he hadn’t given them.
Could one of her half siblings really be behind these strange, petty pranks?
For what? And why after all this time? It just didn’t make sense, and it frustrated her that Copeland wanted to go down this avenue because she couldn’t see the point.
Except digging into old, ugly wounds she didn’t want dug up.
And she couldn’t even be snippy about it, because she’d been poking into his divorce wounds, and she didn’t even have a good reason.
Quite the opposite. That meant his wife had cheated on him, right?
And that was probably why he was so grumpy and irritating.
Or that was just who he’d always been. He said he hadn’t been a good husband, but Audra refused to accept any kind of excuse for cheating.
It was the most unnecessary way to hurt someone.
And none of this had anything to do with her.
Once Copeland had everything he wanted, she went out to start her chores.
She was behind now, and had to rush through or skip some things she’d have to come back to tomorrow, but if there was one thing she could use to justify rushing through or skipping, it was the prospect of meeting her new…
Well, Audra didn’t know the exact specifics. Vi was her second cousin, but they always just called Magnolia her niece, and the new baby would be her nephew. And she’d be Aunt Audra to the both of them and whoever else came along.
If it made her a little wistful that marriage and her own kids seemed like such an improbability when she never got off the ranch and had no interest in anyone in the agricultural club, that was just life. She could throw herself into being an aunt.
She would.
But right now, she threw herself into ranch work. She checked fences, water, feed. It was a sunny day with a hint of spring warmth and that, along with an impending baby, put her in a good mood.
Until she stumbled, twisting her ankle and landing on her side. Surprised, shocked, she looked down at the ground and noted…something had been dug up behind the stables. And considering she hadn’t been digging anything up…
She frowned at the overturned earth in a perfect rectangle. It was shallow, but it was long. Almost like a…
Grave.
Her heart gave a jerk and she looked around. The sky was blue, the scenery vast. She saw some cows out in the east pasture. The fence that separated her land from the Kirk Ranch.
But she was utterly alone out here. Her, the sky, the mountains. And only the vague hints that anyone would hear her if she screamed.
Everything that had once been a comfort now felt vaguely threatening.
You’re being ridiculous. She got up off the cold ground, winced at the pain in her ankle. She didn’t have time for a sprained ankle. Not that it was that bad. Just…she should probably stay off it for a bit and that wasn’t happening.
She looked around again. No sign of anyone. Just this…shallow, rectangular hole. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe Norman or someone from the Kirks had dug this for—for…something.
She shook her head. As much denial as she’d like to be in, with the ashes, the gravestone and the shooting…this was too much.
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. Instead of calling him, she just sent off a text.
I know you’re busy, but I need you to come out to the stables.
In a few seconds, his response popped up. Asking for help? Are you dying?
She didn’t reply to that as it felt a little too close to the overall vibe of the situation. She reminded herself that no one had tried to hurt her. That this was all silly scare tactics.
But why?
She waited, leaning her weight on her left leg over her right, until Copeland finally appeared over the rise, huddled into her father’s coat. Still weird.
When he finally reached her, his expression was the usual stoic, not-quite frown, definitely not a smile. Until he saw the hole. His eyes narrowed, his mouth firmed. Anger danced there.
“What the hell is that?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t there yesterday, and it looks like…”
“Yeah, I know what it looks like.” He pulled out his phone and began to take pictures. “Let me guess. You don’t have any cameras out here?”
“On the entrance, but not here in the back.” She would have gotten her back up about the way he was talking to her, but she was getting used to it. Starting to understand all that irritation was how he dealt with the situation, not really anything to do with her.
He swore under his breath, took a few more pictures. Then looked around, all while Audra stood still. She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want him seeing her limp. She had a feeling that would make his bad mood worse.
She wasn’t foolish enough to think he cared about her, but she did think under all that bluster he cared. A sort of generic care that had driven him to be a cop, to solve crimes for a living. Whatever Thomas saw in him, under all the prickle, that made him consider him a friend.
“What should I do?”
“Leave it for now. I don’t know that there’s really much we can do with it, but I want to think it over before we mess with potential evidence. That doesn’t mess anything up for you, does it?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s fine as is.” She’d need to stick a flag or something to mark it so she didn’t trip and turn her other ankle, but she wasn’t going to tell him that.
Especially with the way he was looking out at the horizon. There was an intensity in his gaze. Like he could just look and see whatever threats were out there.
She really hated thinking threats were out there.
“What else do you have to do? You shouldn’t be out here alone.”
“I’ve got a gun on me.”
“You still shouldn’t be out here alone. What else is there to do?”
She opened her mouth to tell him she could handle it, but then he’d get mad at her for saying he didn’t need to help. Which was ironic, because it wasn’t even about that now. She just didn’t want him to see that she’d hurt herself.
Maybe she could walk on it without limping. Maybe she could…
“Why are you being weird?” he demanded. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking. I think that’s about it for the day.”
He looked up at the sky, then back at her. “You’ve worked yourself to the bone until dark every day I’ve been here.”
“I planned a light day so I can go see the baby,” she lied. Then she smiled at him. “You go on ahead. I’ll catch up in a minute. I just have to lock up the stables.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. She was usually a pretty good liar, but something about the man unnerved her. Always made her feel like he was going to see right through it.
“You’ve got dirt all over the side of your pants.”
She looked down at them. “Oh. Well, you know. Ranching. Dirty work.”
“You didn’t have dirt all over your pants yesterday.”
“Every day is different. The joys of ranching.”
He shook his head. “It’s a no-go, Audra. Spill. What happened?”
She blew out a frustrated breath. “I just stumbled on the hole. I’m fine.” She took a step to prove it. She had to prove it. And winced and couldn’t quite put her full weight on it. Cursed herself and the hole and whoever the hell was harassing her in the most obnoxious ways.
“You’re limping.”
“Just twisted my ankle a bit.”
He bit off an oath. Just as she suspected. So irritated. So put out. “Sorry that someone is out to get me, and I can’t seem to make that go away. You don’t have to—”
He stepped toward her, and she stepped back instinctively, then let out a yelp when she put weight on the twisted ankle.
“Stand still,” he ordered.
“What are you going to do?”
“What any sensible human being would do with someone who twisted their ankle. You could just lean on me and hop and hobble all the way back to the house, but that’s dumb. I can carry you, so I’m going to carry you.”
“You can’t carry me.”
“Is that a commentary on my strength or your stubbornness?”
“Neither. Copeland. It’s—” But she didn’t finish the sentence. He grabbed her, swept her legs out from under her, and then she was just…in his arms. And he began marching across the long expanse of yard.
It wasn’t comfortable. It certainly wasn’t romantic. But it did do something unfair and foreign to her insides. Scrambled them up. Because he was strong. She wasn’t exactly a lightweight. Maybe she leaned toward skinny when she wasn’t taking care of herself, but she was tall and sturdy.
He carried her like she was nothing. In her dad’s coat that didn’t smell like Dad anymore.
He grumbled about her stubbornness the whole way, but he didn’t put her down until he got her inside, where he dumped her on the couch.
Except it wasn’t exactly a dumping. He did it in a way that protected the injured ankle.
She couldn’t find her voice, because that had been a whole…situation her heart and breathing hadn’t recovered from.
He’d carried her. And now… Now, he was kneeling in front of her, unlacing her boot and tugging it off.
Gently.
Then he pulled off her sock. Her sock. His bare hands were on her ankle, and that was hardly sexual.
It was hardly anything. Her ankle hurt when he pressed his fingers to it, but the rest didn’t hurt.
It skittered little sparks of something she would not name while he was doing it all the way up her leg, to tangle at the center of her like something very, very dangerous.
“It’s swollen,” he muttered. “You need to ice it, tape it up and stay off it.”