Mountain Heiress: Mountain Midwife (17 page)

Chapter Twenty

“I assure you,” Osborne said, “that I acted alone. No one else should be blamed for any of the unfortunate acts I’m about to tell you about.”

Zach didn’t believe him. Osborne wasn’t the type of person who broke windows and committed assault. He was protecting Striker. “Go on.”

“And I wish to apologize, especially to you, Gabriella. I should have been straightforward with you from the start, and we could have avoided—”

“Oh, please,” Gabby said. “There’s no way I’ll forgive you. You almost killed my brother.”

“What?”

“Daniel was in the hospital for two days with a concussion after you hit him on the head.”

Osborne turned and looked toward Striker, who gave a nearly imperceptible shake of his head. Either they were really good actors or they didn’t know Daniel had been attacked.

“I would never assault someone.” Osborne took a hankie from his pocket and swabbed the sweat from his forehead. “Never.

“Save us some time,” Zach said. “Tell us what you did.”

“On the day of Michelle’s memorial service, I took advantage of the fact that you would all be absent, and I broke into the Roost to steal the computers.”

“That’s a pretty neat trick, because you were at the service. I saw you.”

“My alibi,” he said. “I timed my departure to give me just enough time to commit the burglary.”

“And then what?” Gabby prompted. “What else did you do?”

“Isn’t burglary enough?”

Burglary left too many incidents unexplained. From the start, Zach had thought that Fox was using the break-ins as a way to scare Gabby away. He might have been inspired by Osborne’s clumsy attempt. “Why did you do it?”

“As it so happens, my efforts were fruitless. Over the years, I’ve sold paintings of Michelle’s that I hadn’t reported to her. I needed to steal her records to make sure they matched mine.” He licked his lips. “She didn’t keep her records on those computers.”

“Rhoda has them,” Gabby said. “Zach’s housekeeper did record keeping for Michelle.”

“I robbed the wrong house.”

Zach nodded. “You haven’t done anything right. Not even this so-called confession. You’re not a burglar. Your pal, Striker, did the dirty work.”

“That allegation can’t be proved,” he said archly.

Proof when it came to the original burglary was nonexistent. The sheriff had investigated, looked for fingerprints and written the crime off as vandalism. Why was Osborne so anxious to take credit?

He’d committed fraud with the paintings, but that was a white collar crime that would likely result in nothing more than a slap on the wrist and a fine. Something had compelled him to step forward. Zach took a guess. “Is Fox your attorney?”

“Jason Fox?” Nervously, Osborne glanced left and right. “Actually, I have used Mr. Fox on occasion. Why?”

“He went through the records and found the fraud, didn’t he? Fox told you to confess and promised that you’d get off easy.”

“Attorney-client privilege,” Osborne said.

Zach knew he was right. “We’re not going to be making any deals with you. Let’s find the sheriff.”

After Osborne had been locked up for a few days, he might be more prone to tell the truth.

* * *

G
ABBY
LOVED
DANCING
, and felt like celebrating after Osborne had been taken into custody by Sheriff Burton. A country and western band was performing that night after the rodeo, and she would have liked to try a Texas two-step or a square dance. But when Zach told his men that he’d load up the six-horse trailer and take their trick ponies back to the ranch, she readily volunteered to go with him and left her car keys with Charlotte.

While Zach and Toby loaded the performing horses into the huge van attached to the back of Zach’s heavy-duty truck, sunset painted the sky in shades of magenta and gold streaked with purple. Zach caught her staring and commented, “You don’t have skies like that in Brooklyn.”

“What do you mean? We have sunsets in New York.”

“Not like this, with the mountains rising up to touch the clouds and the wind in your hair and the soft whinny of horses in the background.”

“And the smells,” she reminded him.

“Does Brooklyn smell like perfume?”

“Touché.”

During the drive back to the ranch in the huge truck, she made him a deal. “I finished your shirt this morning. If you pose in it for me, I’ll do something for you.”

“What kind of something?”

“Name it,” she challenged.

He thought for a few seconds. “You’ll learn how to ride.”

That was a big promise. When she first arrived, riding was unthinkable. She’d gotten to the point where she didn’t mind touching the horses, but she hadn’t actually gotten up in a saddle. If she stayed at the Roost, knowing how to ride would be a good skill to have. “It’s a deal.”

Since everybody else was at the rodeo, the stable behind his house felt empty and deserted. She wasn’t much help when it came to the actual unloading of the horses that had to be led one by one from the trailer to their stalls, but she followed his instructions for watering and feeding the animals. Daphne bounded up beside her and gave a cheery woof.

“Are there dog sports?” she asked.

“Hunting dogs have a lot of skills. Not Daphne. Her talent for herding is innate. If I drop her in a meadow full of sheep, she’ll race around until they’re all herded. It’s like she can’t help herself.”

“Is that right?” She ran her hands through Daphne’s thick, black-and-white fur. “Are you an obsessive-compulsive herder?”

Vigorous tail-wagging was her answer.

When they were done at the stables, she stared across the field toward the Roost. None of the lights were on, and the house had taken on a dark, ominous aspect. “I want to take those photos of you tonight. Is it safe to go to the Roost?”

“Tonight, we don’t have our cowboy bodyguards,” he said. “But I think I can take care of you.”

She’d be the last person to doubt his protective abilities, but there was a valid reason to worry. “Somebody tried to kill me today.”

“Osborne is spending the night in jail.”

“But his buddy, Striker, is still walking around. And he’s the kind of thug who might carry a grudge.”

He went to the office at the front of the stable, unlocked the door and went inside. When he returned, he carried two handguns and a rifle. “Does this make you feel safe?”

“Why do you have so many weapons in here?”

“The horses are the most valuable commodity on the ranch. If anyone threatens them, I need to be able to fight back.” He tucked one of the pistols behind his belt and handed the other one to her. “I don’t think we should walk from here to there. The moon is almost full tonight, and we’d make an easy target.”

“Unhitching the trailer looks like a big job.”

“We’ll take my other car.”

She followed him from the stable to a two-car garage attached to the house. Throughout the time she’d been here, she’d never seen him drive anything but the truck, which made sense because he was almost always hauling something.

He opened the garage. Inside was a cherry-red Corvette.

She gave a low whistle. “I thought the horses were the most valuable thing around here.”

“Sometimes, you’ve just got to put the top down and go real fast.”

The fancy sports car was evidence that he had more money than she’d thought. Making her a loan to pay for Daniel’s hospital stay wouldn’t have been a huge burden on him. She should have asked. Why didn’t she ask?

She slipped into the smooth leather passenger seat and listened while he revved the powerful engine. She wasn’t really into cars but couldn’t help appreciating the luxury. The short drive to the Roost seemed like a waste for a high-performance vehicle that could do so much more, but she was anxious to take the photos of him in the custom embroidered shirt and get her internet sales going. She hadn’t handed out many of her business cards, but Charlotte told her that she’d given away more than twenty-five.

In the studio, she showed him the shirt. The fabric was heavy black twill, and gleaming white embroidery showed a herd of wild horses with wildly curling manes racing across the yoke. A smaller version of the pattern decorated the cuffs.

He took it from her. “This is so beautiful it’s a shame to put it on. Seriously, Gabby, should I take a shower?”

“I like the way you look right now. All rugged and masculine. Go ahead, put it on.”

In the workstation set up for sketching, she found her digital camera. The lighting in the studio was excellent, even at night, but she didn’t want him to be standing next to a sewing machine or a pile of fabric. The most rugged part of the room was the wood staircase that attached to the kitchen. The old wall behind it could have been outdoors.

When he sauntered toward her in the shirt, she congratulated herself on having a good eye. Zach looked better than the male models she’d seen and worked with because he was real. He hadn’t gotten that lean muscular physique by working out in a gym. His body came from real work.

She posed him on the staircase with his thumb hitched in his pocket. Before he had a chance to put on a fake smile, she snapped a photo. Not bad, but she could do better.

“Take off your hat.”

“I want you to know that I feel like a damn fool doing this.”

“Don’t lose the hat, just hold it in your hand.”

“You’ve done this before,” he said.

“Taking pictures of models is part of being a designer. You’ve got to have a way to display your work.”

She studied him for a moment, trying to be dispassionate and looking for flaws. There really wasn’t much to criticize. His blue eyes were to die for. His features were symmetrical. Still, she sensed that she needed a different angle to bring out a truly sellable picture. What was it about him that was so irresistible?

The answer flashed as brightly as the neon signs in Times Square. “Untuck the shirt and unfasten the snaps.”

He gave her a slow, sexy grin. “Are we going to do porn?”

“You wish.” And so did she, to be honest. “Just open the shirt about two inches.”

Though he did as she asked, the pose seemed stilted. Gabby went to him and arranged the shirt to show off the embroidery. She opened the front to expose his lean midsection. Most of the male models she’d worked with shaved their chests. Zach was so much more natural, so much more attractive.

She should have moved back to her position for taking the picture, but photography wasn’t uppermost in her mind. Grasping the front of his shirt, she pulled him closer for a kiss. His lips were warm.

Though she fought to stay detached, sensual heat oozed through her, replacing her rational thoughts with remembered images of their naked bodies entwined.

He whispered, “Are we done?”

“No.”

Determined, she jumped backward and prepared to shoot. The camera trembled in her hands. It took all her willpower to keep her hands still and take three rapid shots one after the other. She couldn’t wait anymore. “That’s a wrap.”

He strode across the studio and swept her up in his arms, easily lifting her. Holding on to his neck, she asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

“It’s a long way up to the bedroom.”

“Too long.”

He carried her to the cutting table and stretched her out amid the bright swatches of fabric. Slowly and deliberately, he undressed her, kissing each new expanse of skin as he freed her from her garments.

He took off his jeans, and then she stopped him. “Leave the shirt.”

She would always remember him this way, making love to her wearing a design she had created especially for him.

* * *

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Zach and Gabby were up and about before Charlotte had dragged herself out of bed. Gabby had heard her come home last night a little after midnight, which was the perfect time for the cowgirl Cinderella to come home from the ball.

Yesterday’s events had begun to sink in. After a simple breakfast, they sat at the kitchen table and discussed their plans over coffee. The first thing Gabby wanted to do was rescue her brother from the clutches of Sarah Bentley. Zach focused more on contacting the sheriff and finding out if Osborne had implicated Fox.

“And we still don’t know who released the bull from the chute,” she said. “Who’s trying to kill me?”

“I wouldn’t put it past Striker. It’s something he might do out of sheer meanness.”

She agreed. “But Osborne was there with him, and he wouldn’t let his trained gorilla get out of hand.”

“That leaves Kevin Fox.”

She really didn’t know what to make of that young man. He seemed utterly normal. But he certainly had an outsize ego. From the first time she met him, she’d thought he knew more than he was letting on.

“There’s one more piece of investigating I need to do,” she said. “Yesterday, I preserved Louis Rousseau’s love letters, following the procedure the book collector told me about. Then, I got them translated.”

“How? Do you know somebody who’s fluent in French?”

“I used a service on the internet. I scanned in the French document, and they’re going to get back to me with the English version.”

“If this is about treasure hunting,” Zach said, “we should forget it. That’s nothing but a waste of time.”

“We might as well check it out. There could be a turn of phrase that would entice Daniel to leave that woman.”

In the studio, she eyed the cutting table where they’d made love last night. It was her new favorite place in the house. Then she opened her laptop, retrieved the translated document and started reading from the screen.

“The one with the reference to midnight hair seems to be more of the same. She’s so beautiful and he misses her so much, blah, blah.”

“Is that any way for a romantic to talk?”

“I’m a tired romantic.”

The second letter started much the same as the first, and then it took an unexpected turn. “This is an apology. He’s telling her that he’s sorry and he’d rather chop off his arm than to hurt her. He begs her to keep her eyes open and her heart open so they can find a wide horizon.”