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“I’m gonna buy him a muzzle.”
The image made him chuckle. “I don’t think that works on a rooster. I take it you’re not a morning person?”
“I’m fine with morning. But this is the wee hours in my book.” The sunlight picked out honeyed strands amidst her cinnamon hair.
“It’s daylight.” He tore his gaze away, checked his watch. Six thirty-eight to be exact.
“Yes. But it wasn’t when he started up.”
A goat clambered to the top of the play station, nudged the current resident out of his way. “So that first day, I’d have never taken you for a goat lover.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you standing here watching them instead of holding your nose and running the other way?”
She laughed a little at that. “I’ve been here long enough my sinuses are burned out and no longer detect farm animal smells. And goats are kind of fun. It’s like they’re playing king of the mountain. I want to see who wins.”
“Knock yourself out.” He tipped his hat, continued on to the cabin. Typical, but with a few surprises.
“I’ll be there once you get it all evacuated.”
He hurried down the path, eager to escape the scent of her apple shampoo. A scent that he was starting to recognize as uniquely hers. Just one more reason Chase needed to find another handyman and Brock needed to go on down the road.
As he stepped up onto the porch of the fishing cabin, a thud sounded at the back. Not Devree. Maybe the ranch hands were moving the old furniture out today.
He turned the knob, but it was still locked. He inserted the key, clicked the latch, opened the door. Just inside, a tightly woven wire cage with the grid open, a dozen mice still inside. “Huh?”
It was a live trap for larger animals, not the kind he’d bought. And besides, he’d put his traps in the bedroom and kitchen. He shut the wire grid, keeping the rodents locked inside, hurried toward the kitchen.
The window in the top of the live trap he’d set revealed it was empty, the release open. The back door stood ajar. He hurried out, looked around. Caught a glimpse of a man wearing a baseball cap a hundred yards away.
“Hey! What are you doing?”
The man bolted for the woods.
Brock shot after him, down the trail, past the barn and into the pine thicket behind it.
The runner stayed off the trail. Briars clawed at Brock’s jeans. Some jabbed into tender flesh. The trees and undergrowth were so dense he couldn’t see the guy anymore, just followed the sound of his escape. Prayed he didn’t blindly step on a rattler.
A branch swatted him in the face. Eyes tearing up, he couldn’t see a thing. Still, he was caught off guard when he stepped in a hole, his knee buckling, and he went down. He jumped up quick, but it was quiet as he peered into the dense sea of green. Nothing, as he stood there and listened for several minutes.
Why would the man put mice in the cabin? He headed back toward the structure. It explained the constant infestation. And brought up a whole host of new questions.
* * *
Devree kept her eyes on the ground. Aware that snakes slithered in the cool of the morning and evening this time of year, she stayed on the path to the fishing cabin.
The rooster crowed again, close by. Surely, the guests hated him as much as she did.
“I’m up already,” she growled. “Can’t you just sleep in sometimes?”
A flash of red to her left. The rooster running at her.
She bolted for the fishing cabin, snakes forgotten, but the rooster cut her off. A flap of amber-colored wings, blue-and-green tail feathers, spurs aimed at her as he lunged/flew in her direction. She dodged, bit her tongue to keep from screaming. No waking Chase again or alerting Brock to come to her rescue. She scrambled around Rusty. He crowed in hot pursuit. Okay, maybe she wouldn’t mind if Brock showed up about now.
“You stupid bird, leave me alone.” She made it to the cabin porch, grabbed a broom, spun and jabbed it at the rooster.
He paced back and forth, looking cocky, crowed again, then turned and headed up the path back to the barn.
“Take that, you stupid rooster.” But as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t just leave him loose to attack guests. She followed at a distance. Not a ranch hand in sight to help her.
Instead of going to his coop, the rooster stopped near the goat pen, pecked at the ground. Though she’d never been inside the barn, if she could find some feed, maybe she could lure the foul fowl back into his lair.
At least he was the only one out. She rounded the goat pen, found a bucket near the chicken coop with seeds in it, opened the wire door of the pen, and jogged back to the huge bird. But not too close.
“Look what I got, big fella.”
The rooster cocked his head, strutted in her direction. Faster than she was comfortable with, but she still had the broom. She backed all the way to the pen, then threw the bucket inside. Thankfully, the rooster went in and she fastened the door in place.
She blew out a big breath, closed her eyes, leaned her forehead on the hand that was still holding the broom.
A noise behind her. She jabbed the broom as she spun around.
And almost gouged Brock in the chest.
His arms went up in a defensive stance. “I never would have pegged you for having such impressive rooster wrangling skills.”
She dropped the broom, covered her face with her hands. “Sorry. I thought Rusty had a friend.”
“I doubt he has any with that attitude. Whoa! Get back in there.” Brock scooped up the broom, darted around her. “No wonder he got out, there’s a hole in the pen.”
By the time she turned around, Brock had the broom clamped over the hole. The rooster flapped his wings and crowed, but at least he wasn’t going anywhere.
“That’s weird.” Brock knelt, inspected the wire.
“What?”
“It’s been cut. With wire cutters.” He ran his fingers along the slit. “See how it’s crimped—dull wire cutters do that.”
“Why would someone cut the wire?”
“I have no idea. But probably for the same reason they’d bring a live trap full of mice to the cabin.”
“Huh?” She shuddered. “Someone opened the trap you set?”
He told her about the extra trap and chasing the man he’d dubbed Ball-Cap into the woods.
“He broke in?” Her voice cracked. “Do you know who he was?”
“I couldn’t get a good look. He was too far away. But I don’t know many folks around here, anyway.”
“So someone’s been bringing mice to the fishing cabin. And they cut the wire, so the rooster would get out. Why would anyone do that?”
“I’m not sure. But once I get this wire fixed, we need to tell Chase. Can you hold the broom while I find something to repair the hole?”
“Sure.” She took the broom from him. As soon as he stepped away, the rooster flapped at the hole. But she kept him at bay.
Brock hurried back with a spool of wire and cutters. He threaded the wire to make a seam across the hole, with the rooster flogging the broom through the whole procedure. By the time the repair was finished, she was shaking.
“That should keep him.” He raised up, took the broom from her. “Hey.” His hands settled on her shoulders. “You okay?”
“I just don’t know who would want to hurt Landry and Chase. She can’t handle this.”
“We won’t tell her. But Chase has to know someone has it out for this place. Maybe he’ll know who we’re dealing with. Or it could be teenagers playing pranks. Whoever it is, we’ll get to the bottom of it. And it’ll be okay.” He squeezed her hand.
Gentle, calloused palm. Soothing, comforting. And suddenly, the effect the cowboy’s touch had on her was much more worrisome than dude ranch hijinks.
Chapter Four (#ua8a54173-e417-5fd1-b0aa-04a767ff2f0d)
“We can’t tell Landry about this.” Chase paced the office.
“That’s why we asked to talk to you alone.” If only Brock could take away his friend’s stress. But instead, he was adding to it.
“What about a competing dude ranch?” Devree picked at her nails. “Any owners capable of pulling something like this to steal business?”
“No. The other owners are stand up people. They might undercut our prices, but not purposely try to sabotage us. I can’t imagine anyone I know doing this.”
“Anyone got a bone to pick with you?” Brock pressed on. They had to figure this out. “An ex-employee maybe?”
Chase snapped his fingers. “There was a ranch hand. Nash Porter. I fired him shortly after Landry and I met. A real troublemaker.”
“Is he still around these parts?” He glanced at Devree.
Fiddling with her phone? Was she trying to play it calm, ease Chase’s worries?
“He’s in jail.” She caught his gaze.
“He is? How do you know?” Chase zeroed in on her.
“I just googled him. Assault and battery, stemming from a bar fight.”
“I’m not surprised.” Chase tunneled his fingers through his hair. “There’s no one else I can think of. Here’s what we’re gonna do. Not a word to Landry. I’ll have the locks changed for the cabin. Only y’all get keys. No one else.”
“I’ll change them out today.”
“And I’m sorry about the rooster, Devree. He won’t bother you again.”
“I’m fine.”
“You should have seen her. She handled him like a pro.” Maybe she was tougher than she realized. And Brock was beginning to suspect she didn’t hate the country as much as she thought she did. Trouble was—she’d probably never realize it.
Besides, his mom had toughed it out once. Then returned to the city just like Devree would.
“Come to supper with us tomorrow night, Brock. Landry’s been wanting to have you join us.”
“I reckon I’m always up for good grub.”
“Six o’clock. But no talk of live traps or wire cutters or disgruntled saboteurs.”
“My lips are sealed. But does that mean I can’t tell about watching this one run from Rusty?”
Chase chuckled. “As long as you don’t mention how he got out.”
“I bet y’all wouldn’t laugh if his spurs were aimed in your direction.” Devree’s cheeks went pink, but her good-natured smile revealed only affection for her brother-in-law.
“You’re right.” Chase sobered. “He could have easily hurt you.”
“No harm done. Except for two years he shaved off my life expectancy.” She stood. “We better get to work. The hands are coming to move the old furniture out this morning.”
“I emptied the interloper’s live trap and reset both.” He followed her lead. “Maybe the mouse population has decreased during our absence.”
Devree closed her eyes for a second, then headed for the door. “Don’t worry, Chase. We’re on it. This wedding will go off without a hitch and the happy couple will have a pristine cabin ready for their honeymoon.”
“I still think we should report it to the police.” Brock adjusted his hat.
“No!” Chase cleared his throat. “It would get around town and Landry would hear of it for sure. Just keep an eye on things.”
“Will do.” Brock followed Devree out. The guy he’d chased into the woods worried him. But he wanted to keep an eye on Devree most of all. What if she’d gotten to the cabin first? Caught Ball-Cap in the act. He could have hurt her. Once they were outside, he grabbed her elbow.
She turned to face him with a puzzled frown. “What?”
“I’m going to the hardware store to get new locks. I don’t want you going to the cabin alone.”
“Trust me, I won’t. Too many mice for my comfort.” But her attempt to make light of the situation didn’t disguise what he saw deep in her eyes.
Fear.
* * *
The dude ranch dining room was hopping with guests as the drone of multiple conversations filled the room. Typical Friday night. Devree sat in a secluded corner with Landry and Chase, as Brock gave a detailed recount of her bout with Rusty.
“I wish I could have seen it.” Landry giggled. “I can’t believe you got him back in the pen all by yourself.”
Devree shrugged, as if her rooster wrangling was nothing. “You expected me to turn into a screaming ninny?”
“Well—yes.”
It was good to hear her sister laugh, even if it was at her expense.
