Cowboy's Texas Rescue

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He continued around the outside of the home, checking through windows, scanning the yard for clues of occupancy. As he crept through the backyard, the dog, a medium-sized black-and-white heeler or Australian cattle dog, saw him and charged out of his doghouse barking and pacing inside his pen. Jake waited and watched from behind a woodpile to see if the dog’s barking brought anyone to the back door, if even to look out at the yard for the source of the dog’s agitation.

Nothing. No one.

Not even from the horse stable, one hundred or so yards behind the house. The wind had blown the main door to the stable open, and it banged noisily on the stable wall with each gust of frigid wind. If Henry Noble owned horses, the stable should have been shuttered and secured to protect the animals from the storm. Most ranchers were far more concerned with their animals’ welfare. That Henry Noble seemed not to be didn’t sit well with Jake.

Frowning his puzzlement, Jake completed a full circuit of the house, then approached the front door cautiously and knocked. Pressing an ear to the door, he listening for sounds of someone moving around inside but heard nothing except the dog out back and the howl of the wind in the eaves. Turning the knob, he tested the door and found it unlocked. His pulse kicked uneasily. Where the hell was Noble and why hadn’t he locked his home when he left?

“Hello?” he called into the dark house as he crept into the foyer, wishing he had his gun for self-defense. He made a quick sweep of each room, knowing he needed to get Chelsea inside…like an hour ago.

Empty. No Noble, but more important, no Brady.

He hurried back outside to the old truck where Chelsea huddled, shaking with near-convulsive tremors.

“Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you inside.” He scooped her in his arms, and she looped a limp arm around his neck. He carried her across the yard and into the house, where he laid her on the living room couch.

She turned her head slowly, teeth chattering, and frowned as she studied the dark room. “Wh-where’s M-Mr. Noble?”

“That,” Jake said, taking a throw from a nearby recliner and wrapping it around her, “is a good question. Short answer—not here. Any ideas where he could be?”

Chelsea furrowed her brow and clutched the decorative blanket around her. “N-no.” She sank back in the cushions of the sofa and closed her eyes. “H-he’s retired. M-Mom said that s-since his wife died last s-summer, he never g-goes anywhere. H-he’s like a hermit.”

“He lives alone?” Jake found another blanket, one of the recent marketing gimmicks, that had sleeves, piled in the seat of the recliner and pulled it around his shoulders like a robe. Moving to the sofa, he pulled Chelsea onto his lap and included her in the circle of the sleeved wrap. She snuggled in as if to nap, and he jostled her. “Hey, I know you’re tired, but you need to stay awake. I’m going to get you something warm to drink and some clothes to put on in a second.”

His gaze landed on the fireplace where three small logs were stacked, and he decided lighting a fire was a good next step. “Hey, do you see any matches or a lighter around here? I’m going start a fire.”

He reached under the shade of a lamp beside the couch and twisted the switch. Nothing happened.

He tried again. Nada.

Frowning, he glanced to the DVD player across the room, to a digital clock beside the recliner and to the cordless phone charging station on the end table beside the sofa. The display screen on each device was dark. He huffed his frustration. “I think the power is out. That’s why it’s so dark in here. And unless he has a corded landline or cell phone lying around somewhere, we have no phone either. The cordless is useless without a working base.”

He chafed Chelsea’s icy legs and rubbed her fingers, praying she didn’t have frostbite. Even though she’d been significantly underdressed for the conditions, her saving grace might be that the temperature had been near freezing and not subzero.

“S-Sadie,” Chelsea croaked.

“What?”

“H-his dog. I h-hear her.”

Jake nodded. “She’s in her pen out back. I’ll bring her in when I get some more wood for the fire.”

Chelsea shook her head, scowling. “No. N-now. It’s freezing out th-there!”

Jake arched an eyebrow and flashed her a lopsided grin. “All right, I’ll get her. Do you know if she bites?”

“Sadie’s a s-sweetheart.” She shuddered again, but he noticed a healthier color was already returning to her cheeks. She licked her pinkening lips, and his libido kicked hard. Her lush mouth tempted him to forget he was raised to be a gentleman and steal a taste. Now might not be the right time, but later…

Squelching the spike of arousal that spun through him, Jake shifted her off his lap and gave her the sleeved blanket as he pushed off the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

Before venturing outside, Jake checked the front closet and found a heavy camouflage hunting jacket, which he commandeered, along with a fleece sweater, which he took for Chelsea. He tossed her the sweater as he passed the sofa on the way to the back door. “Put this on, and I’ll check the bedrooms for more clothes when I get back with the dog.”

“Aye-aye, C-Captain,” she returned, the corner of her mouth twitching in a teasing grin. Her good humor and alertness boded well for her recovery, and Jake drew a deep breath of relief as he headed outside.

Sadie paced and barked at the gate of her pen as he crossed the yard.

“Hi, Sadie,” he said in a soothing, friendly tone. “Good girl. Where’s your person? I bet you’re cold, huh?” He let the dog smell his hand through the fence, and Sadie wagged her tail as she wiggled excitedly waiting for him to open the gate. “Let’s go inside. Okay, girl? Good dog.” Judging Sadie not to be a bite threat, he opened the gate.

Sadie charged out…and tore across the yard toward the stables, barking.

A tingle raced down Jake’s spine. Had the dog seen something he missed?

“Sadie! Here, girl. Sadie!” Blowing into his cold hands, he headed at a trot across the lawn toward the stable. “Sadie?”

The dog appeared in the door of the stable for a moment, as if to say, Are you coming?

Jake jogged to the stable, approaching the open door cautiously. “Hello? Mr. Noble, are you there?”

No answer. Hearing only the agitated nickering of horses, the whip of wind and Sadie’s dog tags tinkling as she paced, Jake moved into the shadowed stable. His gaze assessed every dark corner and egress as he crept inside. “Hello?”

Sadie appeared from one of the horse stalls and gave an uneasy whine.

Apprehension pooled in Jake’s gut. He eased around the half wall of the stall and peered inside.

An elderly man lay on his back, staring sightlessly at the rafters. A bullet hole marred his forehead.

Chapter 4

Brady poked another log into the fireplace, then rose to his feet, groaning when his injured leg throbbed in protest. Rubbing his thigh where the bullet had left a deep gash, he clenched his back teeth and cursed under his breath. He hoped the damn cowboy was freezing his ass off, gasping for his last breath.

As he rubbed his hands together, warming himself in front of the fire, he studied the pictures on the mantel. Most were of the brunette he’d carjacked. Baby pictures. Prom pictures. Rodeo pictures. High school graduation. He had to admit, the girl had been a looker. Pretty face, hot body.

Brady grunted. So what if she’d packed on a few pounds recently? He’d do her. In fact, maybe he’d been wrong not to bring her with him. Six years in the pen was a long time to go without any tail. He shrugged and turned to hobble into the kitchen.

The power had gone out five minutes after he’d broken in the brunette’s house. At first he’d panicked, thinking it meant the cops had found him and were executing some kind of takedown. But one look out the window at the howling wind and whipping snow had eased his mind. Blackouts during winter storms were pretty common. Ice or tree limbs on the power lines. Wind-fallen power poles.

Brady opened the refrigerator and helped himself to a beer and leftover lasagna. He had no way to heat the lasagna without electricity, but even cold, the leftovers were a hell of a lot better-tasting than the glop he’d eaten in prison. Forking up huge bites straight from the container, Brady headed into the bathroom next. Surely the brunette chick had some kind of pain reliever in her medicine cabinet.

Setting the lasagna aside, he opened the mirrored cabinet over the sink and had to hold the bottles close to the fading sunlight from the window to read each label. The first two were for nausea, prescribed to someone named Marian Harris. The brunette was Chelsea, so maybe Marian was her mother? Whatever. He tossed the bottle aside and went on to the next.

Bingo. Marian also had oxycodone for pain. Thank you, Marian. He popped two and washed them down, cupping water from the faucet into his hand. Any extra pills he didn’t use, he could sell for gas money or food. Maybe trade for sex. With a gloating smile, Brady pocketed the bottle, reclaimed the dish of lasagna, and headed back to the living room. Things were starting to look up for him.

Turning from the dead old man, Jake shuddered and heaved a dejected sigh. Brady had definitely been here.

Tensing, Jake swept another keen glance around the stable, listening. He moved from stall to stall, searching, looking for clues that Brady might still be in the area. But other than Sadie and three restless horses, no one was around.

Because there were no footprints or tire tracks in the thin layer of snow surrounding the stable, Jake concluded that Brady had been there and left before the snow started in earnest. Had probably arrived at Mr. Noble’s within minutes of locking Jake and Chelsea in the trunk. Which gave him at least an hour head start to have been here and left again.

Gritting his teeth, Jake returned to the first stall. Kneeling by the body, he felt for a pulse, even though the man’s wound left little doubt he was dead. The old man’s murder shook loose old memories and left a gnawing anger inside him. He’d seen His share of dead bodies on the job, but being back in Texas, heading to his father’s hospital bed meant his mom was not far from his mind. Another senseless tragedy. His chest tightened with the grief he’d carried for the past twelve years.

A sense of urgency pounded through Jake. A killer was on the loose, and Jake’s lack of transportation, communication or weapon put him at a distinct disadvantage. He refused to cede the upper hand to a scum like Brady, but he couldn’t abandon Chelsea until he knew she was out of danger.

Sadie sniffed at her master’s hand, and Jake scratched the dog’s ear. “Sorry, girl. Let’s close this place up and get back to the house.”

After putting blankets on all of the horses and securing the stable doors, Jake led Sadie by the collar back to the house. Sadie gave a hard shake as she trotted inside, flinging droplets of melting snow. Jake headed back to the living room, dreading breaking the news to Chelsea that her neighbor was dead. Murdered. “Chelsea?”

The sofa was empty. The living room was dark and silent.

His gut tightened, and his hand reached instinctively for his gun. Which Brady had stolen. Silently, Jake mouthed a curse word and moved deeper into the house. Sadie followed him, giving him a curious look and a tentative tail wag.

Before he reached the hallway to the bedrooms, a thump from the opposite end of the house drew his attention. Sadie heard the noise, too, and hurried off toward the kitchen, tags jingling. Jake followed, and as he eased toward the kitchen, he noticed the gun cabinet in a recessed corner of the living room. The case doors stood open, and every rack had been emptied.

He clenched his back teeth. Wherever he was, Brady was now well armed.

Another scuffling noise from the kitchen drew his attention, and he continued in that direction, picking up a fishing trophy from a bookshelf to use as a weapon if needed. He peered around the corner into the dim kitchen. Saw no one. Sadie paused to sniff around her food bowl.

A squeak of hinges pulled his gaze to a utility closet at the other side of the room. Then Chelsea’s voice. “Oh, thank God.”

Sadie raised her head and perked her ears.

“Chelsea?” Jake crossed to the closet.

“In h-here.” She pushed the utility room door open and shuffled out, into a weak beam of light from the kitchen window. “Gas water heater.” She shot him a wide grin, and Jake’s breath backed up in his lungs. Her bedroom eyes sparkled, and her smile transformed her face. Sure he’d noticed her sexy mouth before, but he hadn’t really appreciated how attractive she was. Okay, her near-nudity had been distracting, and because of their dire situation, he’d tried to keep his mind on the business of saving her life. But gentleman or not, he’d have to have been dead not to notice her womanly curves and smooth skin.

A flash of heat swept through him, reminding him it had been months since he’d been with a woman. Down, boy. Wrong time and place.

Chelsea pulled the throw tighter around her shoulders as she stooped to give Sadie’s head a pat. “I c-can have a hot b-bath!”

Jake set the trophy on the kitchen counter and cleared his head. “No. I mean…later. A hot bath now could cause heart arrhythmia.” Her grin faltered, and he felt as if he’d kicked a puppy. “But hot water is good news. We can fix something warm to drink and wrap you up with a hot water bottle.”

His body tightened, and heat crawled through him. That wasn’t all he wanted to wrap around her… .

She shuffled to a kitchen chair, the dog at her heels. “The b-bad news is the kitchen phone is c-cordless, too. We have n-no way to call the c-cops, unless we find a cell phone.”

Jake grimaced. He considered for a moment keeping his recent discoveries to himself but decided Chelsea needed the truth. “Actually, there’s worse news.”

She met his gaze, her mesmerizing green eyes wide with alarm. “Did you find Brady? Is he here?”

“No, not that I can tell. But…he was.” Jake dragged a hand over his mouth and sighed. “The gun case is open and empty.”

Chelsea puckered her brow. “That doesn’t necessarily mean—”

“I found Mr. Noble in the stable.”

She sat taller, stiffening her back as if bracing for a blow. “And?”

“He’s dead. Gunshot wound to the head.”

Chelsea gasped and slumped back in the chair, shaking. “Oh, my God…”

“I’m sorry. We’re you close to him?”

“I—No, not really. I mean, he’s been our neighbor for as long as I can remember, but…it’s just—” Her gaze drifted down to Sadie, and she stroked the dog’s head. “Sad. Scary.”

“My best guess is Brady came upon the house shortly after he left us locked up, searched the house and took whatever he thought he might need. He ran into Mr. Noble and shot him rather than leave a witness. Don’t know yet if he shot him in the house and dragged him to the stable or killed him there. Hell, Noble could have confronted him with a weapon, for all I know. But however it went down, Brady armed himself from Noble’s gun cabinet and was gone before the hardest snow started.”