Wild Horse Springs Read online

  He closed his eyes and saw his three friends. They’d gone through training together and were as close as brothers. They wanted to fight for right. They thought they were invincible that night on the border, just like Captain Hays’s men must have believed.

  Only those rangers had won the battle. They all returned to Texas. Cody had carried his best friend back across the water that night three years ago, but Hobbs hadn’t made it. He’d died in the shallow water a few feet from Cody. Fletcher took two bullets, but helped Gomez back across. Both men died.

  “I’ve heard of that story about the famous Captain Hays.” She brought him back from a battle that had haunted him every night for three years. “Legend is that not one ranger was shot. They rode across the Rio screaming and firing. The bandits thought there were a hundred of them coming. But, cowboy, if you rode with Hays, that’d make you a ghost tonight, and you feel like flesh and blood to me. Today’s rangers are not allowed to cross.”

  Her hand was moving over his chest lightly, caressing now, calming him, letting him know that she was near. He relaxed and wished they were somewhere warm.

  “You’re going to make it, Winslow. I have a feeling you’re too tough to die easy.” The lights of a helicopter circled above them.

  He didn’t want to think about dying or being hurt. He pushed the ghosts who always followed him aside and focused on her. “If I live, how about we get together and talk sometime? Any woman who has six kids, can handle injuries in the dark and recognizes bullet wounds is bound to be interesting.”

  She laughed. “You got yourself a date, Cody.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  1 a.m.

  Wednesday

  A LITTLE AFTER closing time at the Nowhere Club, Dan walked out to his Jeep. The midnight wind blew sideways, pounding tiny balls of snow as hard as gravel against his face, but he barely noticed. His evening with Brandi Malone wasn’t over, and that was all that really mattered.

  The only person still parked out front was the big guy who’d sat next to Dan during Brandi’s last performance. He looked like he was sleeping off a heavy drunk in his old one-ton rig that took up two parking spots. He didn’t move when Dan walked within three feet of his window, and the sheriff was glad. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was arrest a man for stalking Brandi. Hauling the drunk in would ruin both Dan’s and the drunk’s night.

  The trucker’s engine was idling, so Dan doubted he’d freeze even if he ran out of gas. Hank usually made sure the parking lot was cleared before he did the final lockup. The manager said once that drunks were like fish—they smelled if left out overnight.

  Dan started the Jeep. It might not look like much, but the engine never failed to turn over. He pulled around the back of the bar, and Brandi darted out. She jumped in, squealing about the cold, and Dan laughed as he made a wide circle around the truck out front. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but she made him feel free, like no troubles would find him as long as she was riding shotgun.

  “You worried about leaving your van?” he asked, hating that he sounded like a cop. He pulled a blanket from the back and covered her.

  She cuddled the wool all the way to her chin. “No, I’m not worried. I left it unlocked. If someone steals it, I’ve got insurance. If one of the drunks wants to see what’s inside, they’ll have to go through dirty laundry and a dozen fast-food bags to learn all my secrets.”

  “You have secrets?” Dan didn’t turn on his lights until he pulled onto the highway. The snow fell thick and heavy, making it hard to see, but he knew the road back to Crossroads.

  He hadn’t asked her which motel she was staying in. There was only one within twenty miles of the bar.

  She tugged a multicolored knit hat down over her ears. “Everyone past puberty has secrets. I figured you’d already know that, Sheriff. You tell me one of yours, and I’ll tell you one of mine.” She grinned as if they were playing a game.

  “Right now, you’re my secret. Not that I care if everyone knows we’re going out, if that’s what you call this thing we’re doing, but just for a while I’d like to keep you to myself.”

  “Any others?”

  “Ladies or secrets?”

  “Secrets. A man who hasn’t been kissed since New Year’s Eve a few years ago has no ladies tucked away.”

  He figured he must seem pretty pitiful. Brandi probably had a lover in every town. “Nope. I’m pretty much an open book. No secrets or lovers, except you.”

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve been thought of a someone’s lover. I’m wild, but I’m picky.”

  He wished he could see her face, but she was far more shadow than flesh.

  Her voice came soft like a whispered song. “I wouldn’t mind being someone’s secret lover. Keeping whatever happens between us will make it like a low melody that will echo through my mind long after I’ve moved on. If our story were a song you could dance to, I think I’d like it to be a waltz.”

  “You’ll be a hard woman not to talk about, Brandi, but I’ll give it my best try.”

  “I doubt that, Sheriff. I’d guess you’re good at keeping other people’s secrets as well as your own. If I wasn’t looking at you as a future lover, I might want you for a friend.”

  “Who knows, I might become both.” He wanted to pull the Jeep over and kiss her. No one ever talked to him so directly. “As long as your secret doesn’t involve a crime, I’m not one to talk, so you can tell me anything.” He waited then asked, “What’s your secret, pretty lady?”

  She moved her head back and forth as if trying to pick from a hundred dancing around in her mind. “I guess I can trust you with one. My name’s not really Brandi.”

  “I could have guessed that.” Even Dan knew singers usually had stage names. “But Brandi fits you somehow.”

  “My father named me Elizabeth after the queen of England, and my mother wouldn’t let anyone shorten it to Liz or Beth. I always had to have the whole name even when it didn’t fit on stuff Mom marked for school. Until I was in the third grade, my lunch box had the last three letters of my name printed on the side because my mother never thought ahead to make sure Elizabeth fit. Kids would call me Eth like it was an elf name.”

  Dan fought down a laugh. He could just see her three feet tall with wild midnight hair curling down her back and her pale skin glowing white. She probably did look like an elf.

  “So when did you toss Elizabeth aside?” It was a nice name, he thought, but it didn’t fit her.

  “I left home the day after I turned eighteen. Joined a band. The guys I traveled with gave me the name because they said my hair was dark and rich like hundred-year-old brandy.” She giggled. “We were all so young and poor, I doubt any of us had ever seen hundred-year-old brandy, but the name made sense at the time.”

  Dan glanced over and brushed a thick strand of hair off her shoulder, loving that he felt he could touch her so freely, knowing that she wanted it that way between them.

  With the silent snow surrounding them, it seemed like right now, right here, they were the only two people in the world, and he didn’t mind that feeling at all.

  “Did you ever go back home, back to being Elizabeth again?”

  “That’s another secret for another night.” She wasn’t looking at him, and he felt like she was moving away, even though she was still beside him.

  They didn’t talk for a while, and then she told him where to park as he turned into the Canyon Rim Motel a few miles from Crossroads. It wasn’t much to brag about. Maybe twenty rooms in a horseshoe shape. The Franklin Bed and Breakfast would have fit her better, but she probably didn’t know about the quaint little historical home in Crossroads. He was glad she wasn’t staying at the B and B; knowing the Franklin sisters, he wouldn’t dare walk her past the front door or he’d be the lead in every gossip story the next morn
ing.

  This motel had a blinking sign that reminded Dan of what an irregular heartbeat must look like. The three rows of rooms that formed the U shape had nothing to distinguish them except the numbers on the weathered green doors.

  “I’m the last one on the left,” she said. “You can park your Jeep on the side, out of most of the weather.”

  He nodded and did as she suggested, feeling suddenly out of place. He’d cast himself in a role he hadn’t played in years. Lover, she’d said. Like they already were. Like they’d both known they would be from the first.

  Frozen winter branches scraped at the Jeep as he pulled into an abandoned alleyway behind the last room. The bad news was that if it snowed much, he’d be buried within an hour. The good news was that he could walk to his own house from here if he had to. The last thing he planned to do was call for a tow from the town’s only motel.

  Reality and reason finally rolled around in his tired mind. He needed to tell her he couldn’t stay. He had to explain how he’d been up for two days and couldn’t spend the rest of the night with her no matter how much he wanted to.

  He wasn’t sure prospective lovers got rain checks.

  Only when he saw her green eyes watching him, he almost forgot why he couldn’t stay. Maybe five minutes. Maybe ten. Lauren was sitting up with Thatcher, so no one was at his house to notice he wasn’t home. After sitting up all night with his one prisoner, people might leave him alone tonight to sleep.

  Tonight? He smiled. It was already morning.

  Dan shielded her from the snow with his open coat as they ran for her door. He’d apologize for not staying once they were inside. Then they’d make future plans and say good-night. He planned to kiss her so completely that she’d haunt every moment of his dreams.

  Halfway to her room, when she pressed against his side so close they moved as one, he gave up all thinking.

  She was laughing as she unlocked her room and stepped inside. He followed, marveling at just how good she’d felt next to him. If she felt this good with her clothes on, he couldn’t wait to see how she felt with nothing between them.

  When she turned on the lights, snowflakes sparkled in her hair and on her eyelashes. If he believed in elves or fairies, he’d swear he was looking at one right now. Those green eyes told him all he needed to know. She was happy to be with him. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t gone out to eat or didn’t know every detail about each other. She was right for him.

  “You’ve become a walking snowman.” She rushed toward him as if he needed help.

  He tried not to notice her brushing snow out of his hair and off his shoulders as he started what he knew he had to say before he became lost in watching her. “I just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I...”

  “I know.” She kissed his cheek. “I swear there is something so adorable about you, Sheriff. You want to be my knight in shining armor, but I don’t need one. I’m fine, Dan. Stop worrying about me.”

  He saw her breath as he heard her words.

  “It’s freezing in here.”

  “Very observant.” She shrugged as if he were simply stating a norm in her life. “The housekeeper comes in to change the towels after I leave and always turns off the heater. I’m guessing the other rooms stay above freezing, but I’m on the end with windows facing north, and it never gets really warm in here if the temperature drops. I complained once, and they delivered two more blankets.”

  Dan looked around the room. It was bigger than he’d expected, with patio furniture as a living area on one side of the bed and a desk on the other. Along five feet of one wall near the bathroom door was an almost kitchen. Microwave, half refrigerator and a cooktop with two burners. The whole room was depressing. She didn’t belong in this place. Everything—the walls, the carpet, the furniture—was beige.

  Then he noticed the small touches. A royal-blue scarf draped over the little table. Paper plates and cups with a daisy pattern and a tea set were arranged on the table as if she was expecting someone for dinner.

  Unlike her dressing room, all her clothes were organized on hangers and hanging in a closet that was missing its door. Her three pairs of shoes were lined up below the clothes, and he guessed if he opened a drawer in the dresser all would be in order.

  “I’ll make tea and you turn on the heater. Then we’ll cuddle on the bed until we thaw out. Believe me, you do not want to sit on that plastic furniture until spring.” She lifted a teapot so small it almost looked like a toy. “I always have tea at bedtime.”

  He wanted to say that he’d stay for only one cup. He was so tired he feared he might sleep standing up like a horse if he closed his eyes. But he didn’t want to leave without at least kissing her one more time. Besides, it wouldn’t be polite. She’d offered tea, and though everyone in Crossroads knew how much he hated hot tea, Dan planned to have a cup tonight.

  If it made Brandi smile, he’d order a mud cookie to go with his tea.

  He pulled off his heavy coat and spread it over one of the flimsy chairs, then put his wet boots near the wall heater that he’d turned up to eighty. While she moved around on the other side of the room, he crawled, fully dressed, beneath one of the blankets and sat on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. The heater clanked in rhythm to Brandi’s humming.

  Slowly, the room warmed, and Dan took in a deep breath, loving the smell of cinnamon tea even though he doubted he’d get more than a few swallows down. She was swaying as she stacked crackers on a paper plate.

  Dan smiled and closed his eyes.

  * * *

  BRANDI TUGGED OFF her boots and coat as the tea steeped. She’d never brought anyone back with her before. She wasn’t sure what to do, or where to start, but the way Dan kissed she had no doubt they’d figure it out soon enough.

  She loved how solid and honest he seemed. She loved the hunger that she saw in his eyes. She loved seeing the delight in his gaze when she shocked him by kissing him. They’d both made it plain that they weren’t looking for forever, so maybe this time she could let her guard down and relax in a stranger’s arms.

  Setting out the cups and napkins on a tray she’d bought at a garage sale in Oklahoma six months ago, and arranging little cookies she kept in a tin, Brandi allowed herself to remember. Her mother had always made tea at night, a ritual Brandi had continued with Evie even when her daughter was in the hospital. Sometimes the cups were filled with milk or juice, but mother and daughter always had their tea before bedtime.

  One night almost a year ago she hadn’t been able to find a hotel and had to sleep in her van. Using a flashlight, she crawled in the back and dug out her tea set. Even thought the cookies were stale and the tea was imaginary, she pretended, knowing that she needed this one tiny normal thing in life to be able to sleep.

  The Dollar Store cups on a cardboard tray were finally ready. She turned around and walked toward Dan, who was sitting in the shadows, his legs covered with a blanket, his chin resting on his chest.

  He was sound asleep.

  Brandi fought to keep from waking him. This tough guy had no idea just how adorable he looked. But, in the end, reason won out. She stripped down to her silk shirt and climbed under the covers. As the mattress moved, he tumbled over, a silent tree falling. Like magnets, they settled against each other, drawing from one another’s warmth. She cuddled her back into his chest and his arm circled her shoulder.

  He was doing what he’d said he’d do. He was keeping her safe even in her dreams. No sorrow would sit on her heart tonight. She could let go of the world. She could sleep.

  CHAPTER NINE

  DEEP INTO THE NIGHT, Thatcher woke to what he thought was a helicopter flying over the town.

  At first he guessed it might be the deputy’s wife. If Fifth Weathers were back from Austin, she’d be flying home for supper. They’d been married a
year and still lived in different towns. But, since she was a pilot, it didn’t seem to be a problem.

  Only, she wouldn’t be out on a night like this, and Fifth Weathers wasn’t even in town or he’d be the one babysitting the jail tonight.

  Maybe he dreamed he heard a chopper. After his mother left him when he was fourteen, he used to dream that she was calling his name. Then he’d wake up and think it must have been a word that floated, leftover, never heard in the empty house until long after the person had gone. The witch of an old lady who used to live down the road from his mother always said sounds hang around long after folks disappear. She swore she heard her dead husband snoring one night. She swore spirits stayed around even after death found a person. They might not talk, but they sat in the shadows, almost visible, or rattled a door, or ruffled the curtains over a closed window.

  Sometimes he liked to think that his mother was watching over him, but that didn’t make sense. She wasn’t dead. She’d just run off with her latest boyfriend. Besides, she didn’t watch over him when they lived out at the Breaks, so why would she be doing it now?

  “Mom,” he whispered, “if you’re out there sending me good vibes, you might think of sending me a Kevlar vest and a bulletproof helmet. I have a feeling that either way I go on this new problem, I’m going to need protection.”

  He was safe here. No one could get to him now. He might as well stay awhile. The two babysitters in the opposite cell wouldn’t be much help if trouble came. Tim would talk any intruder to death and Lauren would probably run. Thatcher probably liked both of them more than they liked each other. He’d started counting the times Tim touched her and she pulled away.

  The thought crossed his mind to tell the sheriff to slow down on trying to get him out of jail. He figured it was just a matter of time before Lauren got tired of Tim and slapped him into tomorrow. Thatcher wouldn’t mind seeing that.