Cowboy Heaven (14 page)

“There'd better not
be
a next time.”

I backed out of the door, pausing along the way to give Dusty a big, juicy kiss. “For luck,” I said and climbed back into the truck bed. Choosing another post, I inserted it through the open window and aimed between Dusty's knees for the snake. However, as before, I couldn't pin it down. Every time I thought I had it, the scaly hide slid over its rounded backbones. I simply couldn't get a firm enough hold on it to give Dusty time to escape.

Finally, I felt something catch on the end of the post.

“Have you got it?”

“Maybe.” I sort of had it pinned, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to hold it when he moved his foot.

“Maybe?” he exclaimed. “I want better than maybe, if you don't mind.”

“Right now, maybe is the best I can do. The damn thing keeps striking at the post, and—shit. It got away again.” Then I gasped as another thought occurred to me. “Hold on. I've got a better idea.”

I pulled the post back out through the window and reversed it, aiming the pointed end at the snake. “Come on baby, bite me,” I murmured. “Bite me. Hard.”

“I thought you said
not
to bite you.” Dusty sounded somewhat bewildered.

I was beginning to wonder if he hadn't hit his head when he wrecked the truck. Then again, in his predicament, I probably wouldn't have been very coherent myself.

“I wasn't talking to you, Dusty. I was talking to the snake.” I teased its mouth with the end of the post. “Come on, baby, open wide. This won't hurt a bit.” I held my breath as the snake struck, then rammed the spear-shaped end down its throat as hard as I could, pinning it to the floorboard. “Okay, Dusty!” I shouted. “Go!”

The rattler went wild as soon as Dusty moved his foot, and it took a considerable amount of force to hold it down, even with the degree of leverage I had on it. It twisted and writhed, flipping its rattle like a mace as Dusty wiggled out from under the post and fell out the door, landing smack-dab on his cute little keister.

“Get out of the way,” I yelled. “I can't hold it much longer.”

Dusty scrambled away from the truck and managed to get to his feet with the aid of a low-hanging tree limb. “Let me get the horse, and then you can let that thing loose.” He limped over to where a very apprehensive Apache was standing and gathered up the reins. The fact that the gelding hadn't bolted long ago said a lot for his training. I guess we had Rufus to thank for that. The man was one hell of a horse trainer, even if he was kinda weird.

I released my hold on the post and the snake fell out, landing in about the same spot Dusty had. At first I was afraid it might decide to stay and fight, but apparently it'd had enough for one day. After one last hiss in parting, it slithered off into the thicket.

As I stood gaping at the spot where the snake had disappeared, the horror of the situation finally got to me, giving me a bad case of the shakes. Faint and nauseated, I collapsed on the truck cab, breathing hard.

Dusty led the reluctant horse over to the thicket and reached up a hand to help me down. “Come on, Angela. It's gone now. Let's go home. We can come back later for the truck. It's gonna take more than the two of us and a dull chain saw to get it out of there, anyway.”

As he stood there, gazing up at me with those big, blue eyes, I burst into tears. “That's twice I've had to watch you almost get killed, Dusty. This has
got
to stop! I can't take any more.”

“Hey now. I'm not dead. I'm not even hurt except for the seat of my pants.” His voice was gentle as the breeze ruffled his curls. “It's a long way back to the house, so you need to get going. You can drive back up here and get me. I'll be fine.”

I blew out a breath. “You're right. No need to get all mushy on you, is there?”

He shook his head. “Not unless you really want to.”

Oh, I wanted to, all right. Unfortunately, I knew I shouldn't.

Story
of
my
whole
fucking
life.

Lately, I'd been giving in to too many impulses that were causing trouble for everyone concerned. I had only myself to blame for most of it. Still, every now and then, I wanted to be able to do whatever I felt like doing without having to think it to death first. Especially in a situation such as this where my first impulse was to grab Dusty and kiss his lips off. Not like the playful kiss for luck I'd given him earlier to break the tension, and not so much because I loved him, but because I was so very, very glad he was alive and unhurt.

I didn't, of course. Dusty gave me a leg up on Apache, and I rode back to the house alone, trying to figure out how the hell a rattlesnake that size had ever managed to get into that truck.

I made it back to the barn without incident. After stabling Apache, I started back to the house just as Dad came across the yard. He was moving so slowly it hurt me to watch him.

“Been out ridin'?”

I nodded. “Dusty had an accident. I need to go back and get him.”

“Again? What's he broke this time? His fool head? He wasn't riding with you, was he?”

“Of course not, Dad. He was in the truck. I just happened to find him.” I hesitated for a long moment, wondering how much I should tell him. He was my father, and although I knew I could trust him, I also didn't want him going off the deep end and having a stroke or a heart attack. “He wasn't hurt, but the truck is stuck in a thicket. It's going to take some work to get it out of there.”

“How the hell did
that
happen?” Even though his words were typical, he sounded so querulous and old—not at all like the man I'd known all my life. “That boy has been more trouble lately.”

“Oh, don't you start that too.” I knew I'd have to tell him everything or he'd be blaming Dusty for wrecking the truck, although it hadn't appeared to have sustained much damage. Still, what were a few dents on an old truck when compared with Dusty's life? “It wasn't his fault. There was a rattlesnake in the truck and he lost control.”

“Ha,” he said gruffly. “A likely story. He was probably drunk and hallucinating.”

As exhausted as I was, the effort to keep from screaming in frustration nearly sapped the last of my strength. “When have you ever seen Dusty drunk? Besides, if he was hallucinating, so was I because I saw it too—probably the biggest snake I've ever seen. It's a wonder Dusty wasn't killed.”

“Hmm… He's had an awful lot of accidents lately and still managed to stay alive. Maybe God doesn't want him.”

“I certainly hope not,” I said. “Not yet, anyway.” Maybe when he was old and gray and his mind was gone, but not right now.

Dad was silent for several seconds. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. “Maybe it's you that wants him.”

His continued scrutiny made me glance away. This was a conversation I wasn't ready for, nor was I in the mood. “Dad, please…”

“He's kinda young for you, isn't he?”

I took a deep breath and counted to three. “Probably. I'm afraid that doesn't concern me at the moment. I need to go back and get him before something else happens to him. Do you want to come with me?”

“Naw, I don't think so.” Suddenly, he seemed even more feeble and tired than he'd been only minutes before. “I was coming to see if you wanted lunch. I cooked up a pot of chili. Guess you can have some when you come back.” His gaze swept over me again and he smiled. “You be careful now, young lady.”

“Don't worry, I will.”

Choosing to overlook the “young lady” remark, I headed for my truck, thinking how odd it sounded following his observation that Dusty was too young for me.

Maybe I hadn't chosen to discuss age differences with him because he was right. Dusty was too young for me—or rather, I was too old for him, especially if he wanted any kids. Although having a tubal after my second baby had sure opened up my sex life with my husband, I doubted Dusty would want a woman whose equipment no longer met factory specs. At some point he would realize life with me would be just, well…life with me. Maybe I was putting too much emphasis on it—some men say they don't really care about having kids—nevertheless, that issue might turn out to be a major stumbling block between me and a relationship with any man, let alone the younger ones.

Not that it mattered. Even though Dusty claimed to love me, I couldn't let it go any further. It wasn't fair to him. The fling with Troy might be over—and I was okay with that—however, an affair with Dusty would be entirely different. I didn't think I could get that close to him without falling in love in the process.

I climbed into my truck and drove out across the cattle bars and on through the field to where Dusty waited for me. Grateful for dry weather and the lack of mud, I drove faster than I probably should have, half afraid what I'd jokingly said to Dad might be true, and that something else might have happened to Dusty before I could get back to him.

I needn't have worried. When I arrived, he was resting in the cab of the truck as though he hadn't a care in the world. Still, judging from the evidence that had begun to pile up, I couldn't quash the notion he might be living on borrowed time.

He smiled and waved when he saw me coming. Why would anyone want to hurt such a sweet, adorable guy?

“That was quick,” he said as I climbed down from the truck. “While you were gone, I looked underneath here, and I think with a couple of jacks, we can lift the front end up enough to clear the stumps it's hung up on.”

“Sounds good,” I said. “You guys ought to be able to handle that. If not, we could get a wrecker out here without too much trouble.”

“I don't think we'll need it. If nothing else, we can use the boom on the tractor. That might even work better than jacking it up.”

“We'll cross that bridge when we get to it,” I said. “Right now, all I want to do is go home and try to think about something else. I bet we
both
have nightmares.”

“No kidding. One thing for sure, I'm gonna check under the seat of any vehicle I get into from now on.”

“I don't blame you for that. Any idea how it got in there? Is there a hole in the floorboard?”

“I don't think so. The windows were open, though. Maybe it crawled in that way.”

“I suppose it could have, but why on earth would a snake do such a thing?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Weird shit happens all the time, and God knows there are plenty of rattlers around these parts.”

“I've been thinking about it ever since I left you here, and I can't come up with any reasonable explanation for a snake to be in a truck other than having been put there deliberately.”

“Maybe,” Dusty said, frowning. “I don't know anyone with the balls to mess with a snake like that—and why would anyone want to, anyway?”

I was forgetting Dusty hadn't been there when Joe told me about his suspicions about the way his saddle might've been tampered with. More than anyone else, he was the one who needed to know. “You obviously haven't put things together quite the same way I have. I think someone is trying to do away with you. I'm just not sure who.”

As I might have predicted, his response was somewhat skeptical. “Do away with me? Why would anyone want to do that? I'm no threat to anyone. I don't have any money to speak of, and if I have any enemies, I sure as hell don't know about them.”

“I can think of two people who might not like you, although I'll admit, it sounds pretty ridiculous for them to go to that extreme. I didn't think about it myself until Joe told me he'd overheard Rufus saying he wanted to get rid of you.”

“I'm sure he only meant he wanted to fire me,” Dusty pointed out. “He wouldn't have to kill me.”

I heaved a sigh. “True. What about Bull? You pick on him an awful lot. Do you think he's finally had enough?”

“Aw, Bull's nothing more than a bag of hot air,” Dusty insisted. “He'd never hurt a fly, and you know it. You're letting your imagination run away with you.”

“I hope you're right,” I said with a shudder. “But if you've got a better explanation as to how a relatively new billet on your saddle could suddenly give way and a big, honking rattler would take a notion to go for a ride with you, you be sure to let me know. I'm fresh out of ideas.”

“Bad luck?” he suggested.

“Oh, come on, Dusty. No one's luck is
that
bad.”

“Maybe not, but I still don't believe any of the guys here would try to bump me off. Even though we may not always see eye to eye, for the most part, we get along pretty well.”

He was right about that, too. Except for the occasional needling he gave Bull, all the guys seemed happy to be working for us. I'd never heard any complaints from any of them, even about Rufus. Sure, he could be pretty tough, but I'd never known him to be unfair.

“Okay,” I said. “Just remember I'm not the only one with suspicions. If Joe has doubts… I dunno. You might want to watch your back. Rufus is Joe's prime suspect, and he thinks it's because of me.”

Dusty didn't take any time at all to come up with the same idea Joe and I had. “Do you think he wants you or the ranch?”

“It's hard to say,” I replied. “If anyone were to ask me, I'd have said Rufus thinks I'm nothing more than a silly little woman. He's never given me any reason to believe he feels otherwise. I suppose he might be willing to put up with me if it meant getting his hands on the ranch, but I don't believe that, either. None of this makes any sense.”

“Which leads me to believe it's all a bunch of bull,” he said. “Rufus isn't a greedy man, Angela. This isn't like him.”

He was right about that. It was
completely
out of character for Rufus to do any of the things I suspected. Too bad I couldn't shake the notion that at least part of it was true.

“Okay, but if you have one more accident, I'm going to send you away for your own protection. I can't have another man getting killed on this ranch, Dusty. Especially you.”

I paused, biting my lip as I realized how that sounded. I'd already gone over all the reasons why romance with Dusty was a bad idea. Now here I was making him think he meant more to me than the others.

Time
for
some
damage
control.

“Oh hell, I wouldn't want anything to happen to any of you guys. Maybe I'm too paranoid for my own good. You be careful, Dusty. I mean it.”

“I will,” he promised. “By the way, don't you mean ‘especially not Troy'?”

Despite the light, teasing note in his voice, the expectant gleam in his eyes proved he'd caught my slip of the tongue—and cared enough to want to clarify its meaning. Perhaps I was wrong to dismiss the possibility of a closer relationship with him. He might be younger than me, but he wasn't a kid. He was a grown man who undoubtedly knew what he wanted.

Must
be
nice…

I made a face at him. “No, Dusty, I meant exactly what I said. Come on, let's get out of here.”

As we climbed into the truck, I was glad I hadn't retracted that statement because I
did
care more for Dusty than I did for Troy. Whether I loved him or not had nothing to do with it. Granted, Troy was a ton of fun, but I'd only known him a week. Dusty had been part of my life for years. I cared very deeply for him, and though our relationship wasn't intimate, I loved him every bit as much as I would have loved my brother if I'd had one.

Well, no…maybe not
quite
like a brother. There was more to my feelings for him than
that
…

I was rapidly running out of reasons
not
to love him, and lately I seemed to be spending more time with him than anyone else, including the man who was supposed to be my secret lover. Then there was that other factor to be considered, the one that had nagged at me all night long.

He'd told me he loved me.

And that was a pretty hard thing to ignore.

We drove back to the house in relative silence. As quiet as he was, I thought perhaps Dusty was beginning to realize he might actually be in danger. Either that or he was simply exhausted. As stressful as my day had been, I could've done with a nap myself—and I hadn't been the one involved in an accident with a rattlesnake.

I let Dusty out at the barn and drove on up to the main house. I felt better after eating a bowl of my dad's awesome chili, so I took some of it down to Dusty, thinking it might help him feel better too. I figured I ought to check on Goldie while I was at it, after which I was determined to take that nap. Knowing my mare's foaling habits like I did, it was a safe bet I wasn't going to get any more sleep that night than I had the last.

I checked the mess hall first, thinking Dusty might have gone in to grab a bite. He wasn't there. Leaving the bowl on the table, I went off in search of him, only to find him sound asleep on his bed. Tiptoeing so as not to wake him, I went back to the mess hall to retrieve his lunch—although by the time he got around to eating it, it would probably qualify as dinner—and set it on the nightstand beside him. As I turned to go, I was overcome by the desire to simply sit down and watch him while he slept.

Knowing I might never have the opportunity again, I took a seat in the easy chair beside his bunk. I sat there, gazing at him, recalling the times I'd watched my children sleep, their deep slumber relaxing their features just as Dusty's were now. What would I do if anything bad happened to him? I'd practically gone into shock when Cody died, and I never wanted to feel that way again as long as I lived.

I would, of course—unless everyone I cared about somehow managed to outlive me, which, given my father's current state, was highly unlikely. I'd heard it said that no one should ever outlive their children, and I believed that to be true with all my heart. But what about outliving a spouse? Any married person stood a fifty-fifty chance of suffering a tremendous loss. Marrying a younger man might prevent me from having to endure that pain and anguish again. Although I knew it was selfish of me, at least I was being honest with myself.

The fact that Cody had been killed instantly had been my only consolation in the aftermath of his death. He hadn't suffered. I was grateful to have been spared from watching him die a painful, lingering death—from my own perspective, as well as his. If he'd died at a ripe old age, I might have been better prepared for the end when it came—not that it would've been any less painful.