скачать книгу бесплатно
Today with six ranches that formed the Randell Corporation, the operation was far too complicated to work without everyone doing their part. It took all six Randell brothers, along with two cousins, to run things.
Besides family, Hank’s main concern these days was to protect the mustangs that roamed the valley here. About a dozen years back he’d made sure the wild ponies would always have a home when he bought up the land to keep it from ever being developed. He wanted the serene Mustang Valley for the wild ponies, his family and the generations to come. Even after he was gone, he trusted his sons to keep that legacy.
God willing, that would be a while longer.
Hank walked toward the dusty truck as Brandon pulled up beside the barn and climbed out. The boy wasn’t dressed in his deputy’s uniform, but the standard cowboy uniform of boots, jeans and Western shirt.
“Hey, Granddad.”
“Hi, Brandon.
A grown man, Brandon didn’t hesitate to come up and embrace him in a big hug. Hank liked that.
“What brings you out here, son?”
Brandon knew he hadn’t spent much time with Hank lately. He’d been working a lot, trying to make detective. “Does your favorite grandson have to have a reason?”
“Nope. We’re just glad you came. Come in and see Ella. I bet she’s got something good cooking.”
Brandon paused. “Ella’s cooking?” It had always been a family joke that their grandmother wasn’t good in the kitchen.
Hank grinned. “Yeah. She’s been taking a class,” he assured him. “And I don’t mind sayin’ my bride is getting pretty good.”
Brandon figured it was more Hank’s love for Ella. He’d finally confessed his feelings about fifteen years ago to his one-time housekeeper. Now, he’d eat anything she put in front of him.
“If you don’t mind, could we talk first?” Brandon asked.
Hank gave a nod. “Sure. Why don’t I show you the new colt your uncle Chance brought over? We’re gonna use him in the big raffle at the rodeo next month.”
The Circle B Rodeo had gone on for years, mainly to bring neighbors together to help out with the roundup. The past few years the money from the horse raffle went to the mustang rescue program.
“You’re comin’ aren’t ya?” Hank kept a fast pace as they headed to the barn.
For his age, Hank was in good shape. He stood straight and tall, and his mud-colored Stetson covered a head of thinning white hair. His body was still trim, no extra weight around his waist. His hands might have been a little crippled from arthritis, but it didn’t stop him from working.
Brandon smiled. “Isn’t it required of all Randells to show up?”
A big grin broke out on Hank’s face. “No, just that your dad and uncles are so competitive that they would never miss it.” They came to the barn, then Brandon slid open the door and walked inside the cool structure. “And we could always use your help at the roundup. Those greenhorns that pay to come to the guest ranch seem to get themselves lost more often than a stray calf.”
Years ago, they had turned the Circle B into a working guest ranch and the roundup was the highlight of the stay.
“So you need backup?”
His grandfather nodded. “Can I include you?”
“I’m starting my new job in a few days, so I’ll have to see if I can get the time off.”
Hank grinned. “Congratulations. Your dad told me you made detective. We couldn’t be prouder of you.”
“Thanks.”
They walked down the concrete aisle. “I’m not so sure Dad’s happy about it,” Brandon said. “I think he’d rather I move back home and take over running the ranch.”
Hank pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, legally the ranch does belong to you. Nice piece of land, too.” He glanced at Brandon. “But I take it your heart’s in law enforcement.”
Brandon didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, it is. It’s not that I don’t love the ranch, but I’m not into breeding cattle and training horses. Not all day, every day.”
They came to the stall in the corner where a nine-month-old chestnut colt was housed. “Hey, fella,” Brandon crooned. “How you doing?”
Hank opened the gate and they went inside. His grandfather coaxed the reddish hued animal to his side. “This is Hawk’s Flame.”
“Oh, man, he’s a beaut.” Brandon examined the chestnut with the white star on its forehead along with white socks on each leg. “How can Uncle Chance part with this guy?”
“No doubt he’s top quality horseflesh. Sired by Flying Hawk. His dam is Crimson Lady.”
Brandon should know this, trying to recall the last time he’d gone to see Uncle Chance and Aunt Joy. That only proved he hadn’t been around much. “I guess I’ve been living in town too long and not paying attention to what’s been going on.”
“I’m not judging you, Brandon. I think working in law enforcement is commendable, but don’t forget your roots, either. Talk with your dad.”
“I don’t think he wants to hear it right now.”
“Maybe if you come up with a plan. Maybe compromise some.”
Brandon nodded. That was just it—he didn’t have a plan, and now another complication. All he’d been able to think about in the past three days was Nora Donnelly. He’d called the hospital, but she hadn’t returned to work.
“I get the feelin’ there’s something else on your mind,” Hank said.
Brandon stroked the horse. “It’s a case I’ve been working on. A woman was attacked in the emergency room parking lot.”
“I read about that. How is she doing?”
“She was checked out and released that night.” He shook his head. “It’s just I have this feeling she knew her attacker.”
Hank frowned. “You mean like a husband?”
“No, she’s widowed, and she says she hasn’t dated anyone since his death, so no boyfriend. That seems strange because she’s pretty.”
“Pretty, huh?”
Brandon nodded. “Yeah. Even with all the bruises from the attack.”
“So she’s caught your eye.”
Yeah, she’d caught his eye all right. He released a long sigh. “My life just keeps getting more and more complicated.”
Hank grinned. “A pretty woman is always a complication, but the right one is so worth all the trouble.”
Four days had passed since the attack and Nora wasn’t sure what to do. There hadn’t been any more threats. No one was hanging around her apartment. No mysterious phone calls. Was the man still watching the hospital? Was he waiting for her to return to work? Had this been Jimmy’s sick way of letting her know he’d found her?
Nora walked into her bathroom and examined the fading bruises on her face, only a faint discoloration shading her jawline. A long time ago she’d learned to apply makeup like an expert, hiding her shame and humiliation. She closed her eyes and began to tremble as she recalled that night. The pain had been nothing compared to the fear that her ex-husband might have found her.
Although Jimmy couldn’t get his hands on her right now, he had people who would do it for money. She glanced around her furnished apartment. Should she take Zach and leave San Angelo? Their emergency suitcases were packed and in the car. Money and Zach’s medication were close by. Although it would be hard to change her location and identity, she was prepared to run again. Anything to stay out of Jimmy’s reach. To keep her son safe.
Although she and Zach never talked about their past life in San Diego, it didn’t mean he didn’t remember those awful years. She also knew their freedom could be snatched away at any time.
No, she couldn’t let Jimmy find them. No matter what she had to do, leave the state, color her hair, anything. He would never take Zach away from her. Nor would she go back to that life. She’d already broken the law to protect her son, and she’d do it again. That’s why she’d taken more than money from Jimmy’s wall safe. Just some added insurance to keep her and Zach out of harm’s way.
The doorbell rang and Nora jumped. She thought about not answering it, but went to look though the peephole and saw Deputy Randell standing on the other side.
Taking a relaxing breath, she opened the door to Brandon Randell. He was dressed in a white shirt, dark trousers and a black cowboy hat. His gun was strapped around his waist and he wore a badge on his breast pocket. He could pass for an old time sheriff. “Hello, Deputy Randell.”
“Mrs. Donnelly,” he said with a nod.
“I thought we’d finished with the questioning.”
“Now that I’m a detective with the department, I’ve been assigned to your case.”
Great. “Has anything new come up?”
“Maybe.” He looked past her. “May I come in?”
What could she do, but step aside? After removing his hat, the detective walked in, then stepped into the small kitchen and dropped a folder on the table.
Brandon had rushed over to Nora Donnelly’s apartment the second he’d gotten this lead. He was determined to find this guy. He glanced over her face. The makeup hid most of the bruises, but they didn’t mar her beauty, either. He motioned for her to sit down. She did and so did he.
“This morning, I went to the hospital and talked with some of the nurses in the E.R.,” he began as he opened the file. “It seems that a few days before your attack, you attended a woman who came in with multiple bruises, laceration to her face and a broken arm. All done by the work of her husband.”
Nora nodded. “Karen Carlson. She was in bad shape. We had to keep her overnight.”
Brandon looked over his notes. “A nurse, Beth Hunt, told me you sat at Karen’s bedside because she was so afraid her husband, a Pete Carlson, would come to get her.”
Her blue eyes lit up. “Have you found him?”
His heart tripped and he had to glance away to concentrate. “Not yet. But you convinced Mrs. Carlson to go into a shelter.”
Nora blinked. “You think it was her husband who attacked me?”
“He could have.” Brandon pulled a picture out of the folder. “Does this man look familiar?”
Nora studied the mug shot. “He’s burly, but I can’t say for sure.” She handed it back. “Are you going to arrest him?”
“First, we have to find him. But, yes, he has a long rap sheet. He likes to drink and fight, not caring if it’s a man or a woman.”
“But he’ll be arrested?” she asked again.
He nodded. “For his attack on his wife. I need to talk to Mrs. Carlson, first. Would you be willing to go with me?”
“Isn’t that your job, Detective?”
“Under the circumstances, I think she’ll be more willing to give me information with you there. Twice before she’s dropped the charges against the man.”
It hadn’t taken much to see that Nora Donnelly was uncomfortable. She didn’t trust easily. Was it just him, or all men? Had a man hurt her before? Her husband?
“I don’t know how I can help.”
“All I want is for you to talk with Karen.”
Those large eyes locked with his momentarily. Damn, it was hard not to react to her.
She glanced at the wall clock. “Okay, I’ll go, but I’ll need to be back before three-thirty. My son will need his medication.”
“Is he sick?”
“He’s diabetic.”
Brandon wasn’t sure how to respond to that. That had to be rough for the kid, and the mother. He stood. “Then we’ll make sure we’re back in time. Even if I have to use lights and siren.” He smiled, but she didn’t.
Nora stood and went to get a sweater and her purse, then returned to the entry. He reached for the doorknob as she did and their hands touched. She jerked back.
“Whoa, Nora,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you. And I’m not going to let your attacker hurt you, either.”
Her gaze met his, but she quickly glanced away, murmuring, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Nora looked out the window of the patrol car. Brandon Randell had kept a conversation going during the twenty-minute drive. She didn’t want any small talk, or more questions she couldn’t answer. Her life could depend on not letting anyone find out her secrets.
Then Brandon turned off the highway onto a tree-lined road. About a quarter mile up they came to a wrought-iron gate. He stopped, rolled down the window and punched in a code on the keypad, then the gate swung open. He continued along the circular driveway toward a sprawling two-story brick and cedar building with black shutters on the rows of double-hung windows.
“It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “This doesn’t look anything like a shelter!”
Brandon smiled. “It was planned that way.” He released his seat belt and climbed out.
Brandon Randell strolled around the car, giving her time to pull it together. The closeness in the car had made her very aware of this man; it was difficult not to be distracted by this good-looking cowboy type.
Nora chided herself for even giving the man a second thought. She opened her door and got out, allowing the cool breeze to brush against her heated face.
A huge fountain adorned with cherub angels caught her attention. The refreshing sound of rushing water had her walking toward the grassy knoll with an array of colorful flowers and shrubs. She looked down to see the plaque that read Abby’s Garden. Special thanks to Abigail Randell for her work and dedication to Hidden Haven House.”
She felt Brandon’s presence behind her. “Is she a relative?”
He nodded. “My mother. She helped design and build this place. It took her nearly twenty years to get it completed.”
The night of the attack, Nora had heard the nurses talking about the affluent ranching family that gave back to the community. The topic quickly turned to the handsome Randell men.
Nora stole a glance at Brandon. She couldn’t deny that he was good-looking, but she sure wasn’t going to do anything about it, either. She had no desire to get involved with a man again, ever.
Together they started up the walkway to the door where Brandon pressed the button on an intercom. After identifying himself into the speaker, he opened the door.
Inside, the walls of the entry area were painted a sea-foam-green, the marble floors were spotless and fresh flowers were arranged on the pedestal table in the center. They crossed the room to a large desk where an attractive, middle-aged woman smiled as she pulled off her glasses.
