Ransom Canyon Read online

  Just the fact that he thought of her with another man bothered him. It frustrated the hell out of Staten. They’d made no promises to each other. Hell, they didn’t even buy each other Valentine’s gifts.

  Slowing his pace, he walked back through the house and stepped out on the porch, realizing he’d acted like a fool. The door leaning against its frame was proof. There was part of him that wanted to be considerate and understanding like he guessed women wanted, but some days he knew he hadn’t quite evolved that far.

  Staten stared at the cruiser, trying to guess what could have happened. She could have been hurt, and the sheriff rode with her in the ambulance. He could have had car trouble and asked her to give him a lift.

  That made sense.

  A tapping came from the barn, and Staten took a deep breath. Maybe she was simply working on one of the machines. Maybe the sheriff had stopped by to warn her about crime in the area. A woman living alone on a farm needed to know if something was going on. Staten didn’t know if she had a gun, but if he had anything to do with it, she would by sundown.

  He lowered his hat against the sun and walked slowly toward the noise. Staten was through guessing. It was wearing a bald spot in his brain. If he wanted to worry, he should go back home and worry about how someone had hit one of his bulls last night out on the county road and didn’t total their car. That made no sense. The road ran through open range, but the black bull, even at night, still had the right-of-way. Anyone crossing should have been going slow with their high beams on.

  The tapping grew louder as Staten stepped into the barn’s shadows. Quinn was all right, he told himself. She was simply working on that old tractor. If he ever went crazy and did buy her a gift, it’d be a new John Deere.

  “Morning,” he yelled, trying not to allow the roller-coaster ride of emotions he’d just stepped off of to show in his tone.

  “Morning,” a low voice answered. “How are you today, Mr. Kirkland?”

  The sheriff straightened from his perch on the tractor. The two men had known one another for years, worked together when need arose, but neither called the other friend. Staten rarely socialized, and Brigman had a daughter to raise.

  “I’m fine, Sheriff.” Staten removed his hat. “I just dropped by to order some more soap from Quinn. My grandmother loves giving it as gifts.” Granny had told him to pick up some if he went by the farm, so Staten didn’t consider it a complete lie. “You happen to know where she is?”

  The sheriff jumped down. He wasn’t as tall as Staten, but he looked like a man who could hold his own in a fight. “I came out to help when she told me this old bucket of bolts wouldn’t start.”

  When Staten didn’t comment, the sheriff continued, “She was leaving when I pulled up. Said something about having to go to the doctor this morning. I’m sure she’ll be back soon. The clinic never gets busy until school is out in the afternoon.” He grinned. “Moms around here probably do what my mother used to. No matter how I complained, she always made me go to school, claiming that if I was really sick the school nurse would send me home.”

  Staten didn’t want to talk to Dan Brigman. He was fighting not to think about what terminal illness Quinn might have. She could be finding out the bad news right now while he was visiting with the sheriff about nothing.

  But he couldn’t just turn around and run.

  He glanced at the tractor. “Did you get it running?”

  Sheriff Brigman shook his head. “Got a minute? I could use your help. If you could start it up a few times, I might be able to see why it’s missing down here.”

  “Sure thing,” Staten said, wondering why Quinn had asked the sheriff and not him to work on the piece of junk. Hell, he’d offered a dozen times.

  Staten might as well help out. The day had started with him in a good mood, he’d made his grandmother laugh, but from that point things seemed to be going steadily downhill. He had a full day’s work waiting back at the Double K. He was wasting time here.

  As soon as the engine started sounding right, he planned to drive back through town and see if he could spot Quinn’s old green pickup. If she was still at the clinic, he might just stop by and get that flu shot. Ellie, the girl working on becoming a nurse practitioner, ran the place. She’d told him back in September to get the shot. By getting it now, it should be good to the last month of winter and maybe next fall, too.

  If he walked in to get the shot, he could casually check on Quinn.

  “That does it,” Brigman yelled. “She’s running smooth as new.”

  Staten cut the engine and climbed down as the sheriff strapped back on his heavy belt. They walked toward the house side by side.

  “Someone hit one of my prize bulls last night,” Staten mentioned.

  “What was he worth?”

  “About twenty thousand before he was hit. About five hundred now.”

  Dan pulled out his notepad. “Someone ran his car into the back of a couple of thousand pounds on a moonless night. He shouldn’t be too hard to find. Even a truck would take major damage.” The sheriff jotted down a few notes as he walked. “I’ll keep my eye out. Can’t help but wonder what a car or truck would be doing on a back county road late at night.”

  “That makes two of us. It’s my land. I’d like to know who’d be barreling across my property.” Staten had a fair idea. Rustlers. They’d been growing bolder since beef prices went up.

  “You know of anyone who comes on your land after dark?” Brigman asked.

  Staten shrugged. “The oldest Reyes boy, maybe. He likes to look at the stars out where no lights from town interfere, he says. But he’s never caused any trouble, and the few times I’ve seen him, he was walking or riding a horse.”

  “He drives now.” Brigman’s voice was low, almost as if he were talking to himself. “I saw him pass my house last weekend in an old pickup.”

  They reached the cruiser.

  The sheriff offered his hand. “Thanks for taking the time to help me out. I owed Quinn a favor.”

  “Any time.” Staten touched his hat with two fingers and headed to his truck.

  Twenty minutes later, he was driving slowly down the one main street of Crossroads. If speed-limit signs didn’t slow highway traffic through town, the shops on the main street would be nothing more than a blur. As it was, strangers heading south from Amarillo or north from Abilene or west from Oklahoma only saw mostly what once was when they drove through. They didn’t see the two fine churches that had stood solidly for a hundred years, or the first-rate school, or the little museum that sat back in a wide park of mature trees just east of town. Grade schools for a hundred miles around brought buses to tour the pioneer museum and see the beauty of the canyon that opened up all at once across the plain, flat land.

  Staten was proud of what his family had done to put the town on the map. Maybe by some standards it wasn’t much, but, like most of the farmers and ranchers around, it was all that was needed. Someday, after he was gone, there’d be a wing built onto the museum to hold all the Kirkland files and papers. His family had kept records further back than any settler. His great-grandfather had even kept a journal of the weather, what he did each day and even his thoughts. They might all be gone, but their story would be there on display.

  He pulled himself back to his search. Quinn’s old green pickup was nowhere in sight.

  He turned around at the rest stop just out of town and circled back. Half the parking spots in front of the clinic were empty, so she would have had no trouble getting a parking place.

  He crossed the Country Grocery lot and both gas stations. Maybe he’d simply missed her? It was doubtful she went anywhere else to shop. As far as he knew, she only did major shopping trips for supplies a couple of times a year.

  When he left the farm- and ranch-supply parking lot, he decided to go in for his flu sh
ot anyway. Even if Quinn wasn’t there, he was six months past due, and with his luck he’d be the last human in Texas to have the flu.

  Ten minutes later the nurse’s aide pushed a needle into his arm, talking, chewing gum and twirling her shoe with her big toe. “You’re late getting this, Mr. Kirkland. Folks your age should have a flu shot.”

  He had no idea how old she thought he was, and he wasn’t about to ask. If he thought he could get away with it, he’d simply ignore her, but she’d probably think he’d gone into shock and yell for Ellie. Ellie Emerson was the nearest thing they had to a doctor in Crossroads most days.

  So, to save himself trouble, Staten decided to talk to the gum-chewing rattle-box. “I know I’m late, but I was running errands this morning and thought I’d take the time.” He tried to remember what her name tag said. Britney or Binky, he couldn’t remember. He refused to look at the tag pinned almost at the point of her breast. “I see the clinic is not busy, nurse.”

  She giggled. “I’m not a nurse, just an aide. I can give shots and take blood. What kind of errands does a big-time rancher like you do? I love your boots, by the way. What brand are they? Don’t you have an assistant on the ranch to run errands?”

  He had no idea which question to answer first, so he ignored all three.

  When she stared at him, he figured he’d better pick one to answer or he’d be in the cramped room all day until Binky had to go for more caffeine.

  Staten answered simply, “I drove out to Lavender Lane to get my grandmother some soap.” He almost added that it wasn’t the kind of thing he could ask one of the cowhands to do, but he didn’t want to talk more than necessary to this woman. Her brain reminded him of a flea, small and jumpy.

  “Did you buy any?” she asked as she pulled the needle out of his arm and told him to hold a ball of cotton over the site.

  “No. Quinn O’Grady wasn’t home.”

  The bloodsucker giggled as her wiggly shoe flew off her big toe. “I could have told you that. She was in here bright and early. The nurse saw her and sent her straight to Lubbock for testing.”

  Staten forced calm into his words. “For what?” He kept his tone even by staring at the girl’s multicolored toenails.

  The nurse’s aide slapped a strip of tape over the cotton. “I don’t know, and even if I did, it would be confidential. All I did was call the ob-gyn and tell him she was on her way.”

  Staten walked back to his truck and just sat staring at the dust whirling down the middle of Main Street.

  Something was wrong with Quinn. She might be dying. He knew the drill. He’d gone through it with Amalah. First in for a checkup. A simple Pap smear. Then another test. Then another. One day you’re fine, just a little tired, and the next day you’re fighting for your life.

  If he thought he could find her, he’d drive down every street in Lubbock. He couldn’t call her. She hadn’t taken her phone. All he could do was wait.

  Staten turned his truck toward her farm. If he was going to wait, it would be in her house. He wanted to at least be there when she got home, whether the news was good or bad.

  On the way back to her place, he swore he almost felt the cold paddles over his chest as the electricity shocked his heart back alive.

  The first beats hurt so much he didn’t think he would survive. Like it or not. Healthy or dying. Quinn mattered to him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Staten

  STATEN KIRKLAND SAT in Quinn O’Grady’s kitchen for an hour, making several calls to his men. Just because he wasn’t there didn’t mean that work would stop on the ranch, but his mind didn’t seem to be fully in the game.

  All he could think about was Quinn. Maybe while he waited at her place, she was getting the news she had cancer. She might be dying, and she’d find out all alone. He knew she’d take the news hard, but in her shy, quiet way she wouldn’t let anyone know. They’d think she was handling it well. They wouldn’t see that she was falling apart.

  Finally, when he could think of no one else to pester, he walked to the barn and collected enough tools to put Quinn’s door back on. Now that he had other things to worry about, he realized what a fool he’d been to storm her house. She’d lived out here for years by herself and never had an accident that he knew about. Plus, everyone in town knew Sheriff Brigman was still in love with his invisible wife. People would say things about how the sheriff was trapped. He loved his job, and he still loved a woman who didn’t love him.

  If Sheriff Brigman had looked out from the barn when Staten had kicked the door in, no telling what he would have thought. Yet, when they’d walked back together to their vehicles, he either hadn’t noticed, or simply hadn’t commented on the back door sitting beside its frame.

  While Staten was worrying about the sheriff’s eyesight, he might as well take some time and worry about why the sheriff thought he owed Quinn a favor.

  Just as he finished repairing the door, Staten heard Quinn’s pickup. If the thing rattled any louder, parts were bound to start falling off.

  Sliding the tools behind one of the porch rockers, he waited as she pulled next to his truck.

  “Well, hello, stranger,” she said as she climbed out. “I wasn’t expecting you this morning.”

  “I gave up waiting for you to call,” he admitted.

  “I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my mind these past few weeks, and I haven’t been feeling very well.” She reached the porch but stopped a few feet away as if unsure what to do. “Are you angry with me about not calling, Staten?”

  He realized he was frowning, and his fists were knotted at his side. “No.” He forced himself to breathe. “I was worried, though. Are you all right?”

  She touched his shoulder. “I’m fine, Staten. Don’t worry about me. After you left last month, I had some thinking to do. If Lloyd deBellome comes to Crossroads, I’ll simply leave town for the night, or maybe I’ll go to the fund-raiser and act like I don’t remember him. That would crush his ego, and, with you as my date, he’s not likely to say anything.”

  “You’d go with me?”

  “I would.” She laughed as if she thought he was kidding. “There is no one on this planet who worries about me as much as you do, but we’ve got to consider that maybe Lloyd stopping by here is for the best. It’s time I stopped hiding from a memory. I’m turning over a new leaf. Might even give up some of the farm work and take up a new calling. Maybe remodel this old house. Once I enlarge the living room, I could probably teach piano lessons. I’ve always thought that would be fun, and Dan said his daughter would want to take lessons if I was interested.”

  He started frowning again. Something was definitely wrong. Quinn was rattling, and she’d never said so many words all at one time. Plus, she’d tossed the sheriff into the conversation as if they were friends.

  It wasn’t like her to stay inside, and she’d never once mentioned teaching anything before. Something was wrong, maybe not with Lloyd deBellome coming to town, but with Quinn. She was getting Staten off track talking about piano lessons and not farming. The real problem was obviously whatever had her going to the doctor. Maybe she’d learned she only had a few years to live. That might explain all these changes.

  Staten had never run from a fight in his life, and he wouldn’t run now. If she had cancer or some other disease, he’d help her through it. “Quinn, tell me what’s wrong with you. How ill are you?”

  To his surprise she laughed. “I’m not ill, I promise. In fact I’m very healthy. I just had a checkup this morning. I had all kinds of tests run, and there is not a thing wrong.”

  Her hand spread over his chest. “Can we talk later? I’m starving for food and for you. For the past few nights I’ve been having these dreams of you making love to me, and I wake up desperately wanting you. I’ve even thought of driving over to your place and pounding on the
door. I’d politely ask if I could borrow your body for a while.”

  He covered her hand as it rested over his heart. “The door’s not locked. Just come on in. You are always welcome.”

  “I might just do that one night.”

  He finally relaxed. This was a different Quinn than he had ever seen, but maybe that wasn’t all bad. Staten had no idea when that happened to women. Maybe her hormones were out of whack. But he didn’t really care. She was happy and saying she was healthy. He could stop worrying.

  Leaning over, he kissed her cheek and whispered, “Let’s eat in bed.”

  She tugged him inside and went straight to the refrigerator. While she made sandwiches, she munched on everything she pulled out of the crisper. He watched her, feeling a peace wash over him. Quinn wasn’t ill, she wasn’t dying. Their life would go on just as before. They were simply getting to know one another better. Feeling more comfortable around each other.

  “We’ve never made love before dark, Quinn,” he said as he played with her braid. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I know we never have, but for some reason you look irresistible, and I don’t want to wait until dark. Would you mind wasting a bit of daylight?”

  “Not at all.” He undid the first few buttons of her blouse while she took a bite of one of the sandwiches. In the daylight, he swore her breasts looked bigger.

  She handed him two glasses of tea and picked up their plate. “Come on, you can undress me while I eat, and when you’re finished I’ll watch you strip.”

  “I’m not really very hungry for food.”

  “Neither am I,” she said around a bite. “I want you, Staten.”

  She carried his sandwich and the few remaining crumbs of hers toward the bedroom. He’d expected her to move under the covers, his shy Quinn, but she didn’t.

  They made love with a wildness he’d never felt with her. This was a side of Quinn that he had never seen, but he’d gladly get used to. He loved watching her body as his hand moved over her. He’d never seen her in sunlight. Now, when he woke late at night and thought of her, his memories would no longer be in shadows. He took his time memorizing the look of her in daylight as he had learned the feel of her body in moonlight.