High Stakes Bride (14 page)

Carter's expression was deadpan. “Wait until you see the whites of their eyes.”

The ramp dropped on the back of the horse trailer. John McKay led out three horses, all saddled and ready to go. He handed the bridle of a rangy chestnut to Carter. “Don't tell me
you've
got an ostrich contract.”

“I didn't have time to sign up.”

John swung up onto a tall bay. “Then you must be the only one.”

Carter jerked his head, indicating West could take the remaining horse.

West backed off. “I am
not
getting up on one of those things.” Back streets and alleys were his environment, not the Wild West. “O'Halloran, it's all yours.”

With a shrug, O'Halloran swung into the saddle, wincing at the stiffness in his neck and shoulder. He'd had a farm background before he was a cop, in theory he could do this.

West grabbed the remaining broom from the bed of Carter's truck, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. A black-and-tan dog shot out of the open window of his car. As the dog lolloped up to him, wagging his tail so hard he almost fell over, West looked vaguely embarrassed. “He's a huntaway. Out here that's gotta mean something.”

T
he phone rang, pulling Dani out of sleep. Blearily, she recognized Becca's voice. There had been another fire, this one at the ostrich facility. John was already there, rounding up ostriches, which had escaped out onto the road and along the beach through cut fences. Becca was on her way with coffee and sandwiches as soon as her mother, who lived on a small cottage on the farm, could come over and mind the children. “Is anyone with you?”

“Like who?” Dani suppressed a yawn, reluctantly alert. With stock on the road it was every landowner's unspoken responsibility to pitch in and help round them up, and in this case some of the stock belonged to her. “Carter?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Dani sat bolt upright. “Why?” Although she already knew what Becca was getting at. Jackson's Ridge was a small town and gossip spread like wildfire. Whether she was believed guilty or not, a lot of people had connected her with the crimes.

“If you were sleeping with him that
would
scotch the rumours.”

“Well, I'm not.” Dani fumbled for the lamp. Golden light flooded the room. “If I ever get the urge again, I'll add that to my list of reasons.”

“I know it's none of my business,” Becca said bluntly, “but there are plenty of women in Jackson's Ridge who don't need more than one reason, and you used to be one of them.”

“Used to.” Dani paused in the process of trying to locate her slippers with her toes. Carter and sex—her least favourite subjects. “Hold that thought, it's past tense.”

“Maybe. In all the time I've known you—and that's been a few years—he's the only man you've ever slept with.”

Dani's stomach sank. “Becca, I've got to go—”

Becca made a strangled sound. “Wait a minute. You were sweet on him
before
he went into the army. You haven't slept with anyone else, have you? Ever. Just Carter.”

Dani slid her foot into one slipper, and finally managed to locate the second one. “You make that sound so final.”

“I think it might be.”

“Well don't spread it around. I'm trying for a little damage control here.”

“You mean he doesn't know?”

And she wasn't about to tell him. She couldn't see any reason to hand over that much power to any man, whether she was in love with him or not. “Look, I really have to go.”

Suddenly the prospect of chasing down ostriches was a lot more attractive than continuing this particular conversation.

 

The ostrich farm was a good ten kilometres away by road, but if she used the beach, it was only a twenty-minute ride on horseback. Since she was going to need a horse when she got there, the four-legged method of transport was an easy sell.

Dani changed into riding gear—jeans, short boots and an anorak with reflective stripes. The birds were out on the road, so she needed to be visible. Swiftly, she packed a small knapsack with a flashlight, a bottle of water and a sandwich—in all probability she would be out until dawn.

Minutes later, she'd caught and saddled Elsie, a tall quarter horse bred on the station. She had been Dani's from her birth and was as much a pet as a working horse. Swinging into the saddle, Dani sidled up to the open gate and grabbed the broom she'd propped there. After watching Jim struggle to control the canny, long-necked birds, there was no way she was going near them without an “equalizer.”

The moon was out and the ocean was quiet as Dani let Elsie pick her way down the hill and onto the hard-packed sand above the water line. Even this far away from the fire, the scent of smoke tainted the air. With a gentle squeeze of her knees Dani moved Elsie from a walk to a trot, then let her stretch out into a ground-eating canter. As they neared the end of the long crescent bay, small dark dots appeared on the beach. As Dani got closer, the dots took on shape, half a dozen ostriches moving at a dead run, their white feathers neon-bright in the moonlight.

Dani pulled Elsie in a split second before she jibbed, eyes rolling.

A shudder twitched through Elsie and Dani grinned, holding firm. Cattle from Mars.

Horses didn't like change and ostriches in the moonlight were definitely new.

Dani dropped her voice to a reassuring register. “It's all right girl. They're just skinny cows with long necks. We can take 'em.”

If they ran in a herd then they were predictable. With a command, she sent Elsie forward and, brandishing the broom, began working to turn the tiny flock before they split up and scattered past her or moved off the beach and into the manuka scrub. Once they disappeared into the thick low bush they would have a difficult job finding them—let alone getting them out. Wild steers roaming the bush were bad enough—a flock of rogue ostriches didn't bear thinking about.

The birds faltered and slowed to an uneasy halt. Six pairs of glassy eyes stared at her in the moonlight. Elsie shivered and jibbed again, half rearing. One of the birds' heads shot up like a periscope. The ostriches appeared to be equally horrified. A series of glottal clicks was drowned out by a high-pitched trill, and with an awkward flurry, the birds turned, flowing back the way they'd come.

 

Minutes later, Dani trotted around the curve of Jackson's Bay onto the stretch of beach that fronted the ostrich facility. The flashing lights of the fire engine and two police cruisers were visible in the distance, and this close the smell of smoke was acrid. Ahead, two horsemen—Carter and John McKay—coalesced out of the darkness, blocking the birds from running further along the beach and bypassing the road that led to the facility. The ostriches balked, then started up the road, wheeling when their path was blocked by a line of vehicles, and darting through a gap in the fence where the wire had been cut and rolled back, making a temporary entrance.

Two men rushed forward and closed the gap. Dani recognized Pike and Lynch manning the temporary “Taranaki gate,” which had been constructed from wire and battens. Pike fastened the gate and gestured at Dani's broom. “What's that for? Jousting?”

A voice hollered, “Incoming.”

“Necessary equipment.” Carter tossed his broom to Pike.

One of the trucks blocking off the road backed up, leaving a gap. Seconds later a lone ostrich skittered through the opening. Lynch scrambled to peel the temporary gate back, Pike lifted the broom and the ostrich's head reared back like a striking snake.

“Put your broom down. It doesn't like it.”

The bird's head swivelled in the direction of the disembodied voice. With an angry click it bolted into the paddock.

West materialized out of the gloom. His T-shirt was ripped and a series of red welts was visible on one forearm. Zoom trotted happily at his heels.

West tossed the broom down. “Don't ask.” There was always an individual in the pack. It was just his luck he'd been stuck with it.

Half an hour later, the ostriches all tallied and accounted for, Dani tied Elsie up to a fence post well away from the drifting smoke and the flashing lights of the fire engine. John and Carter were in the process of loading the horses into the horse trailer, Becca had opened up the rear of her SUV and was systematically dispensing coffee and sandwiches to the fire crew.

Dani caught the end of a comment about the ostrich farm as she accepted a mug of coffee from Becca. “I didn't know you had an ostrich contract.”

Becca shrugged. “It wasn't something John wanted to talk about.”

“He's not alone.” Pete Barclay loomed out of the darkness, fire helmet in one hand, face smeared with soot.

Dani tensed as Barclay accepted a mug of coffee. The fire that had burned down his barn had been the first in the string of arsons. She'd forgotten he was a volunteer member of the Fire Service.

Barclay glanced at Dani, his expression sour. “A pity you didn't make a better job of it. The shop's gone, but the breeding pens are still intact.”

Shock hit Dani like a fist in the chest. Even though she knew she was under suspicion, so far no one, aside from Murdoch, had confronted her openly.

Becca slapped a container of sandwiches down beside Barclay, her jaw set. “There's no need for that. Dani would no more—”

“It's all right, Becca,” Dani interjected. Barclay was known for his strongly held opinions and she could understand his anger. In the country there was zero tolerance for anyone who was careless with fire, let alone an arsonist who had lit up in the middle of a drought that carried its own killing power. Generations of work and care—entire livelihoods—could be destroyed within minutes. Barclay hadn't lost everything, but enough to hurt.

Walter Douglas and Pike lined up for coffee and sandwiches, voices roughened by smoke as they thanked Becca and found places to lean or sit. Conversation died a natural death as the men ate and drank, but the silence wasn't companionable. The tension between Barclay and Walter was thick enough to cut, and Dani remembered that Walter's ex-wife was Barclay's sister.

A shrill beeping cut the silence. Walter set down his mug and fished out his pager. He checked the number then stabbed in a short dial on his cell phone as he rose to his feet and disappeared in the direction of the fire truck. Seconds later he walked back into the circle of light. “Dani isn't the arsonist.”

Barclay set his mug down, his face grim. “How can you know that?”

A cold voice cut through the conversation. “Logic and plain common sense.” Carter loomed out of the darkness. “Dani's a farmer, the same as you, Barclay.”

Barclay's face reddened.

Walter looked embarrassed. “Besides that, there's a fire in town. Nola's place—her house this time. Dani couldn't have lit that one unless she has the ability to split herself in two.”

Within seconds the fire crew finished loading the hoses and the engine accelerated toward town, leaving the forestry crew to keep a watch on the ostrich facility and dampen down any flare-ups.

Carter's gaze settled on Dani. “Are you all right?”

“Of course she's all right.” Becca slapped the lid on the empty sandwich box. “Dani's used to looking after herself—and everyone else. Why would she want a little support just because Barclay thinks she's a hardened criminal?”

Carter handed in his empty mug. “Barclay's an ass. He didn't like losing his barn, and he's got Walter's ex-wife to contend with.”

“Tell me about it.” Becca screwed the lid onto the coffee pump pot. “Lily decided Walter wasn't good enough for her, and she's been trying to get rid of him ever since. One date with Walter thirty-five years ago and Nola sticks a chastity belt on herself, and all Walter wants is his wife back.”

Becca dumped the coffeepot in the picnic hamper wedged into the back of her SUV. Plastic containers of milk and sugar followed. “Some people will do anything for love. Guess that's understandable.” Becca turned her sharp gaze on Carter. “Reminds me of another couple I know, not that marriage is involved, although it should have been.” The boot came down with a thud.

Carter's head came up with a jerk. Dani's stomach plummeted. Becca's analogy was obscure, but somehow he'd managed to put two and two together.

Face burning, Dani wove through the parked vehicles to where Elsie was tethered. Movement caught her eye, the unnerving sensation of being watched. A shadowy male figure was standing, leaning against a truck.

For a split second the present dissolved and she was thrown back in time to the icy floorboards and bare branches of a South Island winter, the breath locked in her throat and her stomach tight with dread as she watched
him
. She had never found out his name; her mother had always refused to give it to her, saying that giving him even that small dignity made him important, and he wasn't. He was a cowardly worm who should be locked up.

Elsie stamped. Blinking, Dani shook off the eerie moment. With fingers that weren't entirely steady, she unhitched the horse and swung into the saddle, the urgency to be gone increasing with every second.

Carter loomed out of the darkness as Elsie negotiated the ditch and scrambled up onto the road. Dani's jaw set. There was no doubt about it: Carter knew exactly what Becca had been talking about.

He reached for the bridle. “Wait.”

Dani kneed Elsie into a trot, eluding his hold. “Later.”

When she'd had time to panic, and time to shore up her scattered defences.

As Dani directed Elsie onto the beach she couldn't help reflecting on one salient fact.

Most of the men had stopped to have coffee or a sandwich, with one notable exception. Some time in the last half hour O'Halloran had gone missing.

 

The beach was quiet, the waves flattened out to a gentle rhythmic wash, the scent of smoke replaced by a cool early-morning tang.

Dani dismounted, prised off her boots, peeled out of her anorak and waded into the water. When she was deep enough, she dove under, letting the salt water wash away the stench of smoke. Refreshed, she waded out, stuffed her boots and anorak in the knapsack and swung back in the saddle. Minutes later, when she reached the home paddock, Elsie nickered, and with a sense of inevitability Dani saw that Carter was waiting.