Chapter Six
Nervous energy had Alice cleaning every corner of her already clean kitchen.
More specifically, the contents of her well-ordered cabinets were now scattered across the countertops while she wiped and scrubbed every shelf.
She had to do something. The sheriff had been out in the line shack with the county crime scene techs.
At first she’d stood around outside with Clint, watching, waiting.
It hadn’t taken long to realize despite the small space, a thorough processing was not going to be fast.
“Any word?” Rachel dropped her purse on the sofa and marched into the kitchen. “Oh my.” Her gaze scanned the new mess Alice had made. “Bad news?”
“No news.” Giving the top shelf one more wipe down, she slid back and heaved a frustrated sigh.
Rachel moved next to her mother. “Where’s Clint?”
“He and Preston are at the line shack waiting for what Sheriff Boyd has to say. I got restless. Decided to clean out the cupboards.”
“So I see.” Rachel looked at the stacks of dishes to one side. “Shall I start putting some of this stuff back, or do you need help cleaning more shelves?”
For as long as she could remember, when life became too stressful, or too challenging, Alice would clean. For whatever reason, it helped her think. Though in this case there was nothing to think about, just a lot of waiting. “Yeah, I’m done.”
Starting with the dinner plates, Rachel began stacking the dishes in the first cabinet, when the door swung open.
Preston wiped his boots and came in first, followed by the sheriff.
The lawman tipped his hat at her. “There are a few latent prints they were able to lift, but we doubt they’re going to tell us much. Especially since any former employees could have left those prints at any point in time. The line shacks are for everyone.”
She nodded. She’d thought of that herself.
“The good news is there’s at least a hundred k in the sack.”
For the first time all day, the urge to smile tugged at her cheeks. “That is good news.” Very good news.
“Unfortunately, even though it’s on your property, it could be evidence of a crime.”
“So we don’t get our money back?” Rachel asked.
The sheriff shook his head. “Eventually, yes, but for now, I have to impound it.”
Two steps forward and one back. They’d made it this far with limited funds; a little while longer wasn’t going to kill her. “What else are you thinking?”
The two men glanced back and forth at each other. Preston was the first to speak. “Ray or his men, someone, or some people, are lurking around.”
“They know about the cameras too.” Preston twirled the hat in his hand.
“You might want to try installing cameras that aren’t obviously cameras,” the sheriff suggested.
“Oh, yes.” A plate in her hand, Rachel spun around to face everyone. “Like a nanny cam. No one realizes the teddy bear has a camera.”
“Don’t you think a Teddy bear would be a little out of place in a line shack?” Alice faced her daughter.
“She’s on the right track.” Preston raked his fingers through his hair and placed his hat on a nearby hook. “We should have thought to be more discreet.”
Several handshakes, and back slaps, and promises were made to let them know as soon as the police knew anything as the sheriff left the house.
“I guess; now we wait.” Preston sighed.
“And Clint?” Alice asked.
“He’s overseeing the last of the crime scene people. Then he said he was going to gather the cattle so he could fix the fence. I’d go help, but I have to get back to the office.”
Alice nodded. “Good. We need to get the roaming cows off Doc’s property.
” Stripping off her rubber gloves, she tossed them on the counter and decided with the cupboards cleaned out and Rachel putting everything away, working outside would be just the energy release she needed. “I’m going to go see about the fence.”
Rachel’s gaze dropped to her mother’s. “Dressed like that?”
Glancing down at herself, Alice frowned. “Like what?”
“Mom, you’re wearing your favorite housecleaning jeans.”
“Okay…” Even though her daughter was right and she’d owned these pants since before she was married, it wasn’t like they had holes in the knees or rips at the pocket. “The fence won’t care.”
Shaking her head, Rachel shrugged. “Well, if you don’t care that you look like you fell out of a Monkey Ward’s catalogue from a million years ago, I guess the fence won’t either.”
“Atta girl.” She smiled at her daughter. The kid had a point, in the wide-legged pants reminiscent of bell-bottoms from her mother’s era, she did indeed look a bit out of place. But then again, what did the fence care was spot on. “You finish up here and I’m going to get started.”
“You shouldn’t be working out there alone,” Preston mentioned casually. Too casually. They all knew he was thinking of when she got tossed onto the fence by the spooked horse and had to wait for Brady to bring help.
“I’ll have Brady with me, and Clint won’t need long to round up a handful of cattle.”
Preston and Rachel flashed a look at each other. Preston sighed and Rachel barely shrugged.
“I’ll see you all for dinner.” And with those few words, she was out the door, on her way to the old truck. With a quick nod, she’d tossed the large auger into the bed, then added several bags of cement, as well as new posts. Brady hopped into the front seat and they were off.
It didn’t take long to reach the portion of downed fencing.
Pulling up by the first fallen post, she pulled out the auger.
It had been years, maybe decades since she’d handled one of these suckers, but she still remembered how it was done.
Her plan was simple: dig all the holes now, and by the time Clint was finished rounding up the cattle, he could help set the posts.
Working outside, in the fresh air, straining muscles she’d pretty much forgotten she had, all of it was an outstanding distraction.
Standing at the first spot, she positioned herself close enough to be able to both control and push on the auger.
Easily, she set the choke, turned on the ignition, and pulled the start cord.
First try, the thing almost danced away from her.
It really had been a while since she’d done this.
And the men always made it look so easy.
There was no way she was going to let this hunk of curled metal get the best of her.
Inching closer, she gripped the handles tightly and tried again.
Only this time, she’d made one more miscalculation; always tuck wide-leg pants into her boots.
Within seconds, the heavy equipment had started spitting dirt every which way before biting at her pant leg and threatening to knock her off balance.
She heard herself screech, felt the pressure of worn denim pulling at her.
In a split second, the way a magician would whip a tablecloth out from under a fully set table, her favorite pants ripped away from her legs.
She screeched again, Brady barked, and the hungry auger did as it was designed to do when hitting a rock, or apparently, pants; it shut off.
Except now she found herself standing in her panties and boots in the middle of a field.
And holy cow patties, was that the sound of a four-wheeler approaching? “Oh, crud.”
Clint eased the four-wheeler along the fence, keeping the throttle where cattle would listen instead of scatter.
He let the machine hum low and steady, arcing wide to turn the stubborn beasts that had scattered far and wide onto Doc’s property.
Finally, they were moving in the right direction, flowing back toward the gap like water trickling downhill.
Wind carried a sound that wasn’t cattle.
Metal coughing, then dying. He lifted off the throttle and let the herd walk, eyes running the line ahead.
A figure appeared to be huddled by the fence—Alice, it had to be—but something was off.
Hunched over, her arms moved in sharp, jerking motions.
A sense of urgency gripped him. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow he knew, something was very not right.
Easing off the throttle, he let the cattle continue their plodding journey toward the fence opening, keeping his eyes on his boss and wishing cows moved more quickly.
As he drew closer he blinked, then blinked again.
No longer crouched low to the ground, she now stood upright and if he wasn’t mistaken, had a fantastic pair of legs.
What he couldn’t fathom is why the heck was she standing there with…
he squinted, not shorts. What in the world?
It wasn’t until he was nearly upon her that he understood what he was seeing.
Alice Sweet, ranch owner and mother of six, stood clutching what appeared to be her pants around her waist as if it were a towel and she’d just stepped out of the shower.
Glaring at the ground like a woman scorned, she lifted her chin and leveled her gaze with his as if daring him to say a word.
He killed the engine immediately, and climbed off. Keeping his gaze firmly on her face—and only her face—he approached cautiously. Brady circled them both, clearly agitated. “What happened?”
She huffed, adjusting her grip on the tattered fabric. “The auger happened. Started up fine, but these old pants…” She gestured with one hand before quickly grabbing the fabric again when it started to slip. “Let’s just say the auger found them tastier than the dirt.”
He followed her glance to the machine. The bit sat in fresh dirt, a collar of earth thrown up around it, and a blue ribbon of vintage denim tied into the flights.
The engine was quiet. Thank God for clutches and kill switches that still remembered their job.
His mind ran too freely to what could have been—bone, tendon, anything caught where cloth had gone. “You hurt?”
“Only my pride.” She heaved a deep sigh. “Pro tip: wide-leg pants and augers are not on friendly terms.”
He wasn’t sure if he was more horrified at what could have gone wrong, or more amused at the ludicrous situation. Fighting the pull on his cheeks, he’d say amusement was winning out.
“I managed to get the pants unwound from the bit,” she continued. “This was the best I could do to avoid scaring the cows with my bare legs.”
Okay, so the woman’s sense of humor held strong in all sorts of situations, even when her pride and propriety were at stake.
Now he really had to fight the urge to smile.
Removing the windbreaker he wore, careful to not let his eyes drop for another look at shapely legs, he handed it to her.
“This might work better if you tie it around your waist. It should cover you better than those pants. And you won’t have to hang on to it either. ”
Her free hand reached for the jacket. “Thank you.”
Remembering his manners, he quickly spun on his heel, turning his back to her.
“Okay. Better. You can turn around now.”
He did as he was told, allowing himself a quick peek. He’d never seen her in anything but slacks or a long dress at the parties for the kids’ weddings. Neither had ever given him any hint that the woman had a great pair of gams.
“You’re sure you’re all right?” He kept his eyes on the tool.
“Bruised vanity. And chilly knees.”
There was that sense of humor again. He bit back a smile.
She tilted her head at the strip of cloth still tied around the lower flights. “Dumb thing started, danced, then decided to eat my wardrobe.”
He tried not to, he really did, but laughter bubbled over.
Alice rolled her eyes heavenward, which didn’t help him stop. He got it under control—almost—then lost it again when she deadpanned, “Put ‘wide-leg pants’ under the column labeled ‘ranch hazards’ on your next safety briefing.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he managed, breath finally cooperating. He wiped a palm over his face and got serious where he needed to. “I’ll finish the holes. You sit in the truck, lock the doors, and pretend you’re supervising.”
“Pretend?” Only the smile flirting with the corners of her mouth belied her icy stare.
Shaking her head, she turned on her heel and called over her shoulder, “You get started on the rest of the holes, I’ll get my cell in the truck and have someone bring me a new pair of pants, then we’ll both finish that fence. ”
How awful was it that the only thing he could think of at the moment was that woman sure knew how to wear his jacket?