Part 10 (2/2)
She had better luck with that than trying not to think about the man behind her.
Good sense? If she had good sense she wouldn't have come up with this last-ditch ad campaign, she wouldn't have set her sights on J. T. McCall's perfect posterior, she wouldn't have hired on as his camp cook, and she certainly would have never let him kiss her-let alone throw her on his horse.
She tried to relax, leaning back a little into him, feeling tired and resigned to whatever her fate might be on the back of Killer. She'd made so many mistakes with the man, including kissing him back the way she had, even death didn't look so bad.
”Sit still,” he ordered, his voice sounding strange to her.
She ran her tongue over her lips, not surprised to find his kiss branded there. She felt suddenly soft and vulnerable and...so female it hurt.
McCall was angry with her. She'd no doubt destroyed any hope of getting him to model the jeans. She didn't even want to think what would happen if she returned to California without the perfect cowboy b.u.t.t contract in hand.
Worse, she'd probably get bucked or fall off this horse and be killed and never get out of the mountains, let alone Montana, the way things were going.
She was fighting the urge to cry when the horse rocked. She s.h.i.+fted her weight, and with a start felt McCall's arm tighten around her. He pulled her back against him and heard the change in his breathing.
Silly little meaningless kiss indeed.
She was smiling to herself when she looked up and saw the horse that had almost run her down.
”What the h.e.l.l,” she heard McCall say behind her.
”That's what I was trying to tell you back there before you kissed me,” she said. ”That wild horse almost ran me down. That's how I twisted my ankle.”
”That's not a wild horse,” he said behind her and she heard fear in his voice. ”That's Luke Adams's horse.”
Chapter Eight.
J.T. slipped quietly off his horse and reached up to lift Reggie down. He motioned for her to be quiet and stay back as he approached Luke's mount.
The horse's coat was lathered. He moved slowly toward it. ”Easy, boy. Easy.”
The horse rolled his eyes and backed away. J.T. carefully opened the corral gate, then began to work his way around to the other side of the horse.
As he did, he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Luke's horse. No saddle. The horse had come back here, had been standing next to the corral when they'd ridden up. J.T. could only a.s.sume that Luke hadn't gotten far from camp. But if he'd been riding the horse, it would have had a saddle on it.
With the corral gate open, J.T. stood back. One of the horses in the corral whinnied, catching Luke's horse's attention. J.T. worked his way closer to the horse, then slipped off his hat and shooed it toward the open corral.
The horse s.h.i.+ed, then trotted into the corral.
He closed the corral gate.
Where was Luke and what had happened? And the big question: where was Luke's saddle? It should have been on the horse if Luke had been thrown or the horse spooked for some reason.
He glanced toward an old tack box at the back of the cabin. The lid wasn't quite closed. He walked to it and lifted the lid. Luke's saddle and gear were inside. He closed the lid and stood, trying to make sense of it.
Luke hadn't really left? He'd just wanted everyone to think he had? Or someone else wanted them to believe it.
”Why would Luke's horse come back here?” Reggie asked when he walked back over to where he'd left her.
He shook his head as he began to unsaddle his horse. Fear vibrated through him like a low frequency hum. Buck should have been back by now.
As he released his horse into the corral with the others, he saw Reggie glance down the hill where the old truck was still parked. No newer four-wheel-drive rig. No Buck. He was relieved to see that she seemed as surprised by that as he was.
What could have happened that Buck was running this late? The foreman knew how important it was that he get right back here. Buck was no fool. He would have hightailed it back to the camp. Unless something had kept him from it. Or someone.
”I would kill for a bath,” Reggie said behind him.
Her choice of words jarred him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at her as he picked up his saddle. The afternoon sun had sunk into the pines. Long shadows spilled across the camp. They had plenty of time before the others would be back for dinner.
She looked tired, her clothes filthy. He'd bet they were the only ones she'd brought that were even close to appropriate in that big suitcase of hers. He met her blue eyes and, even though he fought it, felt sorry for her. She'd really had no idea what she was getting herself into and she'd held up pretty well, all things considered.
h.e.l.l, she was a city girl. Stronger and with more courage than the other one he'd known, that was for sure.
She looked up at him. Her lips parted slightly and right then he would have given her anything-short of agreeing to do her commercial. Was that really all she wanted from him?
”There's a creek not far from here,” he said. ”But you can't go alone.”
She lifted a brow in question.
He shook his head. ”I've already got Luke missing. From now on I don't want anyone leaving this camp alone. Especially you.”
She smiled, giving him a look he didn't like. She'd already figured out that he would always be paired with her. He would have trusted her safety with Buck-but Buck hadn't come back. And now J.T. didn't trust Reggie with anyone but himself. He was bound and determined to get this woman off this mountain and back to civilization in one piece.
”How badly do you want a bath?” he asked.
Her brow shot up again.
”I need some straight answers out of you,” he said.
”For a bath? I'll get my stuff.”
”I'll dump my saddle and meet you on the porch.” As he was pa.s.sing the cowhands' tent, he saw that the door was untied. Through the breech, he could see something on the floor just inside.
His heart began to race. Like a sleepwalker he moved toward the tent and what looked like a body lying on the tent floor.
Clothes. A bundle of clothing lay on the floor. Past it more clothes had been strewn around the tent, but to his relief there were no bodies. He stared at the mess. It appeared that someone had gone through all of the cowhands' belongings. Who? And maybe more important, why? Was the person looking for the gun? Or something else?
He moved to his own tent and opened the flap that acted as a door. His and Buck's possessions were just as they'd left them. He dropped his saddle inside the tent and took the 9 mm pistol from where he'd hidden it. Checking to make sure it was loaded, he stuck it into his jacket pocket, then closing the flap, turned back to the cowhands' tent.
Whoever had ransacked the tent had been looking for something. If not the gun, then possibly money? Not likely since where would a cowhand spend cash up here?
No, it must have been something else, although he couldn't imagine what, other than the gun, as he closed the tent flap and walked toward the cabin. If his hired hands had done as he'd told them, they'd spent the day keeping the others within sight. That would narrow down the suspects.
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