Undeniable

Dedication

For anyone who loves Texans and vampires and doesn't like having to choose between them…

Chapter One

Kate McKinnon pulled up the collar of her old leather duster to ward off the chill wind that bit the back of her neck. One glance at the darkening sky reminded her of the passage of time. Daylight was a-wastin'. Soon, she'd have to head back to the safety of the ranch house.

She cinched her stampede string tighter under her chin to prevent her hat from flying away and nudged her horse forward to follow the fence line, looking for any breaks that might indicate trouble.

She wasn't worried that cattle might have slipped through a hole in the fence. Most of the herd she'd run roughshod over was gone. More worrisome was what might have come inside. The dense cloud cover above hadn't allowed even a glimpse of sunlight to peek through all day.

Perfect conditions for the monsters to come out and play.

Any one of her men could have been assigned this duty, but Kate liked being on her own. Every once in a while, she needed to ride the fence to harken back to a time when the worst thing she might find was a cow mired in the mud or a calf circled by buzzards. On the open range with only herself to argue with, she found some peace. Not that she could ever really escape her problems.

The radio squawked where she'd clipped it to the bridle of her horse. “The southwest corner's clear, boss,” said Sam Culpepper, her ranch foreman. “I'm headin' back to the ranch.”

She unclipped the mike and held it to her mouth. “I'll turn back at Wasp Creek. Almost there now.”

“Hope you found somethin' for Cass's stew pot. I didn't see sign of deer or rabbit.”

Kate grimaced and pressed the talk switch. “Well, I found a bird.”

“Turkey?” he asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

She glanced at the black-feathered carcass hanging upside down from a string tied to her saddle horn. “You got that half right.”

“Shit.”

That was when she spied slackened barbwire and knew they had a problem. “Sam, we have a break.”

“I'm right behind you. Wait for me,” he rasped.

“Wait? Yeah, right,” Kate replied, knowing any delay in catching the varmint was unacceptable. The creature could wipe out the rest of their meager herd as well as endanger the lives of those living at the ranch. What pissed her off most was Sam wouldn't have issued that order to any other ranch hand. At times like these, she regretted ever asking him into her bed.

“Goddammit, Kate, I'm on your ass! Wait!”

Kate grinned and spurred her horse into a canter. When the troubles began, Sam had appointed himself her guardian. Since
caution
didn't appear anywhere in her vocabulary, she'd made it her mission in life to make his job as onerous as possible.

Not that she was foolhardy. She followed the fence and kept her gaze alert to any movement in the brush around her, and her horse didn't appear nervous in the slightest—Kate had learned to trust Lucy Lu's instincts.

The break, when she found it, was small and low—the creature had crawled in on all fours. Prints leading into the brush indicated one animal, but she wasn't ready to celebrate just yet.

The thunder of hooves, more than she'd expected, came from north along the fence line. She drew her rifle from its scabbard and turned it sideways to double-check her load. Mentally, she counted off her earlier shots—three rounds were all she had left.

Sam pulled to halt beside her, his expression promising retribution. Danny's horse ground to a halt behind him, his two pit bulls close on his buckskin's hooves. The dogs whined, and their tails wagged frenetically. They'd already picked up the scent, but they'd wait until Danny gave the order to track.

“Don't you have a lick o' sense?” Sam ground out.

Kate smirked. “You only live once. Sometimes.”

Sam shook his head, narrowing his eyes. “We'll talk about this later.” Then he took the lead, following paw prints in the dry dirt until they entered an arroyo.

He nodded to Danny and the ranch hand swept out his arm, index finger extended, giving the command to the dogs to follow the creature into the ravine.

Sam slipped off his horse and grabbed his rifle. “You stay put. Watch the horses. Danny, follow me.”

Kate tamped down her impatience at Sam's overprotective streak and dismounted. So she was stuck watching horses again. She settled her rifle barrel on her shoulder, kicked the dirt, and listened to the radio as the men talked between themselves while they tracked the animal.

The wind shifted. A subtle turn that blew west then east, like a lazy wag. Lucy Lu whinnied and Kate felt the prickles that always preceded the feeling she needed to get the hell out of Dodge. It raised the fine hairs on the back of her neck.

The radio squawked. “Kate, he's doubled back! Get the fuck out of there!”

“Get out, my ass,” she whispered. She had three horses to protect and her daddy's old rifle in her arms.

Resisting the urge to check her chamber one more time, she waited while the horses whinnied nervously and pulled at the reins tied to a scrubby live oak, causing it to creak and obliterating any possibility she might actually hear the beast's approach.

Instead, she took her cues from the horses' actions—the direction their ears pricked, which way they instinctively pulled against their reins. She faced the mouth of the arroyo.

When it burst, snarling, from beneath the cover of brush, she was ready. She slammed the stock of her rifle into her shoulder and fired off a shot, then cocked the lever down and up to load the next cartridge into the chamber and fired a second round.

Still it came—launching into the air toward her, teeth bared, its long ears flattened to its skull.

Too close to get off another round, she turned the gun and grabbed the barrel, swinging it like a baseball bat. She slammed the rifle against the creature's head, knocking it to the side and then braced herself for the next attack.

Only the wolf never regained its feet. It twisted in agony on the ground as the silver load finally did its work. Poison gripped its body, causing it to convulse and forcing red-tinged foam to spill from its lips.

When it relaxed, expelling a final labored breath, the body transformed, shifting in a dark blurred instant into a man. A young man, as innocent and naked as the day he'd been born.

Kate's jaw firmed, tamping down regret for the waste of a life. No matter how many times this same scenario played out, she never got used to it.

The dogs burst into the clearing and circled the dead werewolf, whining and snapping, but never actually biting. Then Sam barreled out of the brush, coming to halt as he took in the scene in one sweeping glance. He bent double and rested his hands above his knees as he dragged deep breaths into his lungs. “Goddammit, Kate. When I tell you to run…”

She shrugged and pretended her own heart wasn't racing like a thoroughbred's. “Well, he's dead, ain't he?”

He shot her a glare. “You know, Kate, you are one stubborn cuss.”

She grinned and lifted a single eyebrow.

His gaze swept down her body. “Did he bite you?”

“Not so much as a nibble.”

Danny raced up the arroyo and called off the dogs. “So, do we bury him?” he asked, once he had them under control.

Kate shook her head and looked away. “The buzzards have to eat too.”

 

 

Kate scraped the dirt off her boots on the edge of the stoop before entering Cass's kitchen. She gave a nod to the older woman who stood covered in flour up to her elbows, cutting biscuits from flattened dough. She held up the bird by its feet. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Cass grimaced. “Stick him in the pot. Gotta blanche that buzzard before I pull its feathers.”

A large stockpot filled with boiling water rattled in the old gas range. Kate lifted the lid and dunked the turkey buzzard, feathers and all, into the pot. “If anybody asks—”

Cass held up her hand. “I know. It was an old damn turkey. Coffee's in the thermos. Help yourself.”

Kate poured a steaming cup and flashed a smile, then tromped through the house to her office, avoiding the living room. She knew she was being a little cowardly, but she didn't think she could bear sitting in the living room with the families' quiet chatter surrounding her. Now that the ranch hands' bunk house had been subdivided into living quarters for the three families, she'd hoped for a little more privacy, but their noise and the sight of their haunted faces spilled over into her home as well.

So she'd settle down to her meal when it was ready in her office. The large dining room table would be crowded enough with everyone eating in shifts. Not that there'd be much reason for anyone to linger. Food was scarce. Their meals meager. Soon, they'd be forced to make another run for supplies. She'd been waiting for sunshine, but the unrelenting black sky kept them trapped inside the boundaries of the ranch.

At times, the weight of her responsibilities crushed her, making her feel overwhelmed and a little scared when she thought about so many people—especially the families—arriving at the gates. She feared she couldn't feed them, wouldn't be able to save them in the end. To protect her heart and her sanity, she avoided knowing them too well.

So Kate took her coffee at her daddy's big roll-top desk and eyed the silent radio, knowing she shouldn't turn it on and waste precious electricity. But dammit, this was her ranch house—her blood, her men protected the people within Sanctuary.

Besides, this was their only link with the outside world.

She turned it on and let the old-fashioned transistors heat up, then turned the dial to tune into the band where she knew he'd be waiting. “This is KN5GST calling. The name is Kate. Anyone listening? Over.”

A moment later, the whine from an engine sounded over the air. “This is AA3TZ. How are you, Kate?” he said, dropping the ham lingo.

Her hands clamped around the microphone as she held it, and she closed her eyes as his voice surround her like a soft, warm blanket. “Been better.”

“Any breaches?”

“One got through today. I killed it.”

“I'm sorry about that,” he said softly.

She blinked—not because tears gathered in her eyes. Just dust. “It's okay,” she said swiftly. “He was just another monster.” She'd try to forget how young and vulnerable he'd looked, lying naked and bleeding into the dry dirt.

“Still carrying that antique gun?”

Kate's lips curved into a grin. What was it with men? Sometimes, Ty sounded a lot like Sam. “It did the trick.”

“How many shots did you manage to squeeze off?”

“Two.” She shivered, remembering just how close the wolf had come.

“Goddamn, Kate, what's it going to take to get you to be more careful?”

“I know what I'm doing.”

“You give any thought to what we talked about before?”

Kate shifted in her seat, uncomfortable with the direction he was going to take the conversation. “I have, but I don't know how we'd manage it. 'Sides, we have most everything we need here, at least for a while.”

“Honey, you can't hold out forever. They can. Soon, you won't find enough gas pumps with gas in them or cars to siphon off to run your generator. Your propane won't last long with as many mouths as you're feeding now. What happens when you can't scavenge enough food to hold off starvation?”

Every word he said was true. Eventually, they'd all have to leave Sanctuary. But not now. She wasn't ready to let go just yet.

“Kate, the wolves are getting hungry enough to risk facing your armed men inside the game fence. When they're inside, you'll be the one who's corralled.”

Kate knew in her gut he was right. But how could she abandon a hundred years of tradition—of McKinnons on Sanctuary ranch? “I don't have enough big trucks or men to protect a convoy for any distance.”

“I've been thinking about that problem, and I might have a solution for you. Let me get back to you.”

“All right.” She squeezed tighter on the mike. He'd pestered her about leaving, harangued her about her recklessness. Now he'd say goodbye. Just like always. “You doing okay?” she asked, wanting to extend the conversation.

“I'm fine. Stay put tomorrow. I'll talk to you tomorrow night. Out.”

She listened to the hum until it cut off, then turned off her radio and sat back in her chair.

Ty Bennett. For the thousandth time, she wondered what he looked like. She already had a picture in her mind—tall, dark—shoulders wide enough to cry on.

She wished she could ask him, “What color are your eyes? Your hair?” However, while she'd poured out her worries over the air waves countless nights, he'd been reticent about giving her details about himself.

How she wished she could give his deep, rumbling voice a face. So she'd know him if ever they met.