Last Stand Ranch (8 page)

Much as Elijah wanted to protect Olivia and stop the hard questioning, he couldn't. They were painful questions, but given the circumstances, they were necessary.

“There's no one in my personal life who wants to kill me.” Her voice had a hollow sound to it, as though her inner strength was dissolving. “I have a friend, Vanessa, who worked with me at the shelter. Maybe she can help me come up with some names of men who threatened me because of my work there.”

“That would help. And I'm sorry for what happened to you.”

She nodded. “I just want this to end.”

He asked her a few more questions, many of them the same ones Elijah had heard Bedford ask right after she'd been shot. The sheriff was obviously hoping Olivia might have remembered some helpful detail she'd forgotten before, but that wasn't the case.

They wrapped things up and Elijah walked them to the door. Wolfsinger walked out first. Bedford stepped out, turned and lingered just beyond the door. “If she tells you anything that might help, you call us immediately.”

“You think it's likely we're looking at a hired killer?” Elijah asked.

“I do. Watch your back.” Bedford put his cowboy hat back on and headed toward his patrol car.

Elijah closed the door and walked back into the living room. Olivia sat staring off into space, biting her bottom lip.

She turned to Elijah. Her face had reddened and she'd started wringing her hands. “I don't know what to do.”

She had to work through the emotions that came with having someone trying to kill her. Elijah knew that from experience. He just hated watching her go through it. But she needed to be reminded that she was strong, and a fighter.

“Does it look like you have to figure out what to do on your own?” Elijah asked, forcing an edge of disdain in his voice as he looked pointedly from Olivia to Claudia.

“No,” Olivia answered sullenly.

“So work on that list of losers from the safe house for the sheriff's department to check out. Are you still up for that job interview?”

She squared her shoulders. “Of course.”

“Then we'd better head over to Aunt Claudia's so you can get ready.”

EIGHT

“I
don't have a family ranching business to fall back on like
some
people, so this job opportunity is very important to me.” Olivia hurried out of Claudia's house wearing her favorite suit, a navy blue light wool skirt and matching jacket with a black velvet collar and an ivory shell underneath. The last time she'd worn the ensemble it fit perfectly. Now the skirt sagged at the waist and the jacket was so loose she was easily able to get her bandaged arm into the sleeve.

“I understand this interview is important to you.” Elijah followed her out onto the front porch and closed the door behind him. He reached out to grab her hand. The one attached to the shoulder that
hadn't
been shot. “But you need to slow down. Let me walk out ahead and see what's out there.”

At least Olivia was pretty sure that's what he said. His strong hand holding hers suddenly brought her mile-a-minute interview-related thoughts to a screeching halt. The sudden sense of protection, the feeling of being cared for by someone as capable and earnest as Elijah Morales sent a gentle eddy of peace through her body that made her sigh.

And then a wave of dizziness took control of the moment. She caught her heel on an uneven board and might have pitched over into the bright pink zinnias at the bottom of the steps if Elijah hadn't tightened his grip.

“Do you want to go back in?” He turned her around and made her face him, his brows drawn down with concern. “We could call Larry and tell him you want to wait a week or two for the interview. He'd understand.”

“I'm fine. My heel just got caught on the edge of a board.” That was true. It was also true she got a little woozy now and then. Either from getting shot or from the pain medicine. But she wasn't talking to Elijah about that. He'd drag her back inside. She glanced past him at his truck parked in front of the house. “I'm fine.”

“Larry's been looking for someone to fill that position for a while, so it's not like there's any rush.” He let go of her hand. “Hard to believe, but there isn't a long line of people eager to move to a backwater like Painted Rock. Not for a part-time job teaching arts and crafts at a senior residential facility.”

“I want the job.” If it were an unpaid volunteer position, she'd still want it. Ever since Claudia had mentioned the job, she'd thought about activities she wanted to do, conversations she wanted to have. Maybe she could take some online classes and eventually work her way into counseling seniors. “I miss helping people. I miss doing something useful.”

“A few of us from Vanquish ride up there to visit the seniors pretty often. I know Larry. He'll hold out for the right person. We can reschedule your interview.”

“No!” She had to keep this appointment, had to get her life moving again. Now that she was injured, there weren't a lot of chores she could do to help Raymond around Claudia's ranch. Doing nothing productive and thinking about herself all day would make her miserable. She'd found that out while hiding in her apartment in Las Vegas.

“What if there's more than one right person for the job? I have to get there before Larry hires someone else.” If Elijah wouldn't drive her she'd walk up there. Or find out if they had taxis in Painted Rock. “This might be my only chance to get back into doing the kind of work I love.”

“You're too hard on yourself.”

She let go a harsh, cynical laugh. “You're noble and you're good. People practically think you walk on water around here. I hear what people say about you. I've seen how they look at you.” Her gaze dropped down to her feet. “You wouldn't understand what it's like to intentionally do the wrong thing, knowing it was wrong, and then have to live with all the pain and trouble you've caused.”

He laughed softly, but when she looked up his expression had taken on an unexpected edge. The lines of his jaw looked tense as he leaned toward her, bringing his face close to hers. “Do you really think you're the only person around here who's done something to be ashamed of?” His voice was so quiet it was nearly a whisper.

“I'm sure whatever you did was in the course of a good cause,” she said, starting down the steps, frustrated and angry with herself and tired of rehashing the same old topic over and over again. “Driving your motorcycle over the speed limit on the way to a fund-raiser for orphans won't get you on anybody's permanent naughty list.”

He caught up with her, stepped past her, and then stopped, redirecting her into a sheltered corner of the wide porch. Getting her out of the potential line of fire if anyone was watching.

“I realize you just met me,” he said. “But do I really give the impression I'm that shallow?”

She looked at the scars on his face, and then looked in his eyes. How could she have ever thought them flat and expressionless? The depth of feeling visible in them, the bottomless understanding coupled with the world-weary edginess of a man who'd seen it all, made her regret her snippy comment. “I'm sorry,” she mumbled, looking away.

“If you're carrying around a burden of regret, this might be a good time to lay it down.”

She laughed, but the bitterness coursing through her nearly turned the laugh into a snarl. “It's not that easy.” She'd been a churchgoer. She'd heard the sermons about forgiveness generously given. But when you didn't really believe you deserved it, it felt impossible to receive.

“You don't strike me as the kind of girl who only does what's easy.”

She blew out a breath and felt some of the tension leave her neck and shoulders. “Well, I am a girl who needs a paycheck. So, can we just go? I don't want to be late.”

“Sure.” He stepped back, took her arm and scanned the area around Claudia's circular drive while guiding her to his truck. He opened the door and helped her in.

“Maybe we should take your motorcycle,” she said. “That would make a memorable impression.”

Elijah got in the truck and started up the engine. “I thought you didn't like motorcycles.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I'm getting a little more open-minded.”

“I'll take you for a ride once things have settled down,” he said.

“Thanks for doing this,” she said as they started the short ride to the seniors facility. “I know you have your own job to do. I'm sure they miss your help around the ranch while you're dealing with me.”

“It's no trouble.”

A few minutes later, they pulled through the gate at Golden Sands, a rambling single-story building nestled between two rolling hills on the northern edge of town. Pine trees dotted the property, surrounded by wildflowers and rustling grasses turned golden in the early-autumn sun. Cultivated shrubs hugged the walkways alongside the building.

The chief administrator, Larry Squire, wore his long graying hair tied back in a ponytail. His shirt was tie-dyed in vivid shades of purple and orange. Olivia wondered if he'd made it himself as she sat in his office amidst scattered books, wind chimes, various clunky art projects and a guitar propped on a stand.

He stepped around his desk as soon as Olivia entered his office, and they sat in chairs across from each other for the interview. They talked about her prior job and she told him everything about her situation with Kurtz. He, in turn, had read about her getting shot in the local paper.

“I also read up on your situation in Las Vegas,” he said. “While we have professional standards of behavior we need to follow, I know from personal experience that counseling can put you in a situation where you feel very protective of your client. Still, your history is a serious matter and it's something the board needs to consider before we can offer you employment.”

“I understand, but you and the board should know I've learned my lesson.” Olivia smoothed her skirt and crossed her arms.

“I know your aunt very well,” Larry said. “I told her I'd interview you as a favor to her, but you would get the job, or not, on your own merits.”

Olivia took a deep breath and prepared to be disappointed.

“I called a few of your references. Everyone had good things to say about you so I have to admit I'm interested.” He stood up. “Let's go for a walk.”

* * *

“Once we get further into fall and the animals start coming down from the hills, I'll have a whole bunch of new images I'll want to paint.” Arthur Bannon turned back from the window to look at Elijah. Arthur's face was long and narrow, his hair still remarkably thick, though it had turned white, and his chin wavered slightly all the time. He was considered an old man when Elijah was still a schoolboy. He'd lived through a lot and earned every one of his ninety-two years.

Elijah glanced at his friend in his motorized wheelchair, pointing out the window at the rolling hills outside. While walking the grounds and waiting for Olivia's interview to conclude, Elijah had noticed the door propped open at the end of a window-lined building. Inside, he'd found Arthur.

“The only way I could paint a wildlife picture would be if the picture was already drawn on the canvas and someone jotted in little numbers telling me where to put each color of paint,” Elijah said.

“You could paint a good picture if you really wanted to.”

Elijah shrugged. “I'd rather let somebody else be the artist. I can just enjoy their work.”

Arthur grinned and raised his bushy white brows. “If you've got fifty bucks, I've got a nice painting of an eagle soaring at sunrise that you could take home and enjoy. It's in a good frame, too.”

Elijah looked down at Arthur's attempt at pleading puppy eyes and laughed. “Sold. I'll add it to my collection.”

Arthur held out a freckled hand and they shook to seal the deal before Elijah pulled out his wallet.

Two sets of footsteps echoed down the interior hallway on the other side of the door connecting the art room to the main building. Elijah turned his gaze in that direction.

Olivia's vibrant laughter skittered down the hall. The interview must have gone well.

Olivia's eyebrows lifted in surprise when she walked into the room and spotted Elijah. The smile on her face beamed happiness that practically lit her up like a Christmas tree. She was so beautiful Elijah couldn't help smiling back. She gave him a lingering look before turning her attention to Arthur.

Larry stood beside her. “How are you?” he asked Elijah.

Elijah gestured at Arthur. “I'm about fifty bucks lighter in the wallet. Again.”

Arthur grinned.

“This is the arts and crafts room,” Larry said to Olivia. “And Arthur is an accomplished oil painter.”

“Nice to meet you.” Olivia walked over to shake hands with him. “My name's Olivia. I'm afraid I don't know a thing about oil painting.”

“You don't need to.” Arthur pushed his heavy, black-framed glasses up the bridge of his nose and studied her face. “I teach the painting classes. Rachel teaches quilting. Oliver teaches some kind of computer picture stuff that I don't care too much about.”

“We have several skilled craftspeople and artists in town we can call on for help,” Larry said.

“They just have to hire us some kind of babysitter,” Arthur interjected. “And Larry told me he'd only bring a serious candidate down here to meet me so I guess you've got the job.”

Olivia glanced at Larry. He pursed his lips. “I need to run it by the board, but I
will
recommend you. We'd like to have someone start within a week, if possible.”

Olivia smiled broadly. “Thank you.”

Arthur propelled his chair closer to Olivia for a better look, and then turned to Elijah. “Is she your girlfriend?”

Mortified, Elijah looked at Olivia, hoping she would answer. Instead, she sharpened her smile ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow.

Why did she do that? Elijah was good at reading the signs on a battlefield or behind enemy lines. He was good with horses and cattle, and was decent at weather prediction. He was a pretty good tracker, too. But he couldn't read women to save his life.

What did she want him to say? More importantly, why did he even care?

He didn't care. Did he? He was helping someone out, that's all. Protecting a woman in peril. He would do it for anybody. That was why he'd been allowed to survive when others hadn't. He had a debt to pay and a job to do.

For a moment he felt as if the ground was shifting beneath him. He'd helped women before. He'd kept his distance emotionally. He hadn't thought twice about it.

So what was happening with Olivia? Nothing, nothing was happening. He wouldn't let it.

Even Larry looked at him as if he was waiting for his answer. “No, sir,” Elijah said to Arthur. “She is
not
my girlfriend.” He blew out a subtle sigh of relief, thankful that was over.

“Why not?”

Really, Arthur?
Really?
The old man had a sharp glint in his eye.

They'd had variations on this conversation before. Not that Elijah had come up to visit with any other woman Arthur had mistaken for a girlfriend. It was the lack of a romantic attachment in his life that Arthur always bugged him about.

Elijah had been back home maybe a year when Arthur had started up about it. Arthur had been happily married for sixty-two years. His kids and grandkids came to visit him in Painted Rock at regular intervals. One mellow spring day Arthur had asked Elijah if he wanted a family of his own and in the unguarded moment Elijah had answered, “Maybe someday.”

That was a mistake. Arthur wouldn't forget about it, and Elijah couldn't make him understand he wasn't anywhere near that “someday.”

Elijah glanced at Olivia, watching for her reaction as he said, “I'm here with Olivia because she's run into some trouble. Vanquish the Darkness is helping her until things settle down.”

Olivia's smile faltered and her radiant countenance dimmed. Elijah really didn't want to figure out why. He just wanted the awkward emotional stuff to go away.