Kidnapped By The Cowboy (C Bar C Ranch Book 2) Read online

  Sweet Lord. A racetrack. On the C Bar C.

  “But the McClures are fighting it. The daughter, especially. What’s her name?” Thinking on it, Lodi rubbed his chin.

  A moment passed. TJ braced himself to say the words.

  “Callie Mae.” His voice rumbled. “Her name is Callie Mae Lockett.”

  “That’s it.”

  Like a kicking, angry filly, her image reared up out of the past and into TJ’s mind, until he roped it back and pushed her image into submission.

  “Guess she’s meeting with some of the local bigwigs to hash it all out,” Lodi continued.

  TJ kept his features impassive, his mind blank. He had all he could do to stand there and follow the jockey’s conversation.

  “We’ll see what happens.” Lodi shrugged. “But an event like that? Why, folks would come from miles around to see the horses run. The prize purses would be a fortune.” Blue snuffled, and Lodi absently patted the sleek neck. “Sure would make this part of the Panhandle look good. If the Lockett woman had any sense, she’d jump at the chance to have the exposition on her land. Hell, her spread is so big, she won’t even notice it’s there.”

  Boomer grunted, his opinion of its size—and the woman who owned it—obvious. “You wouldn’t think so, would you?”

  TJ refused to look at him. Boomer knew as well as he did that Callie Mae would never agree. Never. Not after what happened…

  “None of our business what she’ll do,” he said roughly. “Blue Whistler is our business, though, and he needs cooling down, like I said.”

  “Sure.” Lodi hurriedly took up the reins again. “I’ll get right on it, TJ.”

  “I’ll go with him,” Boomer said. “Have to make sure the rest of the work is getting done, too.”

  TJ knew he spoke of the new groomer they’d hired. Emmett Ralston had been slow to learn his job and required some extra supervising. TJ gave a curt nod of thanks and wished he could shake off the past as easily as Boomer did.

  “You going to make it back in time for supper?” TJ asked.

  “Tell Maggie I’ll be there.” Boomer ducked under the rails to follow Lodi, but he halted at the sight of a carriage rumbling down the lane. He sighed. “Looks like we got callers. I’ll go see to ’em first.”

  Callers.

  His mood worsening, TJ turned his back on them, slid the stopwatch into his shirt pocket and headed toward the stables. Whoever it was wouldn’t be coming to see him. Not since he’d gotten out of prison had anyone ever come to see him.

  And that’s how he wanted it.

  Most of the time.

  He swore and blamed Lodi for bringing it all back. The decision and mistakes he’d made a year ago that destroyed everything he’d ever worked for. His hopes. Dreams. His pride and good name. How all he’d done had cost him his home on the C Bar C and every friend he’d known there.

  Including the woman who’d been determined to see him hang.

  Callie Mae Lockett.

  Once, his need for her ran hot through his blood.

  Not anymore.

  Yet hearing her name, saying it—

  Suddenly, inevitably, the raw burn of the past flared high and seared deep, as crippling as it’d been then. The weight of the memories, their ugliness, staggered him, taunting him with all he’d lost.

  He bent, grasped his knees and sucked in air. Waited for the burn to pass. The burn that was always there inside him, never going away…

  A young life lost.

  But another’s saved.

  God, it was so unfair.

  The burn flowed, ebbed, faded. TJ drew in another breath. He straightened. And breathed again.

  Life went on.

  He’d survived.

  Everyone survived.

  Except Danny McClure.

  “TJ? Are you all right?”

  Maggie’s voice pierced the turmoil spiraling through him. For her, more than anyone, he had to be strong. Unaffected. She was all he had. They had only each other.

  Mother and son.

  He turned toward her. Levi’s and a baggy cotton shirt covered her wiry frame. She strode toward him looking boyish and tough, but TJ knew how fragile she was. If he didn’t take care of her, she’d break, like aged porcelain.

  “I’m fine.” Hoping to prove it, he managed a smile.

  She halted, her head tilted back to study him. The breeze plucked at her hair, gray and mostly ignored except for the single braid she always wore. Years of whiskey, men and heartache had branded themselves into her skin, aging her a decade more than she owned.

  Her worried gaze delved into his until the creases in her face softened. She touched his cheek with a gentle hand, as if to soothe the pain she suspected still simmered within. “I heard Boomer yelling. I gather Blue had a good run this afternoon?”

  “His best so far.” TJ draped his arm around her shoulders and thought again how small she was. How much she needed him, would probably always need him. Her arm slid around his waist. Together, they headed toward the stables. “Boomer thinks he’ll win.”

  “Oh, TJ. I’m almost afraid to hope.”

  He pulled open the door, and the rickety hinges wobbled. He made a mental vow to replace every damn hinge on the place, and a whole lot more besides, if Blue brought home the winner’s purse.

  He ushered his mother through. “Reckon it’s hope that got us this far, Maggie. Don’t be afraid of it.”

  She stepped away while he tugged the door closed, jiggling the handle to make sure it latched. When he turned back to her, tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “There’s not a man more deserving than you to win that race, TJ Grier. I’ve been prayin’ every night for it to happen.”

  The vulnerability in her expression and the quaver in her voice moved him. He refused to show it, lest he upset her more. His mouth crooked. “Most likely every man with a horse in that race is doing the same thing. Praying every night to win.”

  “Doesn’t mean they deserve it like you do.”

  TJ didn’t know if he deserved much of anything. He just knew he wanted the victory. Wanted it so much, it was downright pathetic.

  The sound of Boomer’s jovial voice seeped into the stable, and TJ’s glance lifted to the nearest window. The visitors’ carriage had turned off the lane and pulled up in the drive. An expensive rig, from the looks of it. A late-model runabout, leather top gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Boomer strode over to greet them.

  Somewhere down the line of stalls, one of the broodmares whickered, reminding TJ why he was in here. To see to the readiness of Blue’s stall. He pulled his gaze from the couple sitting in the buggy’s seat and banked his curiosity about why they’d come, angling his body away from the window to shut them out.

  He’d never considered himself an envious man, but their obvious wealth only served to remind him of his own poor state of affairs—and that he’d gotten damned weary of them.

  He contemplated his mother, who owned nothing except the responsibility for her sins. She deserved more. Happiness. Fun. Some long overdue female pampering.

  “Come to Fort Worth with us, Maggie,” he urged. Again.

  As always, the prospect seemed to terrify her. “Me? Rub elbows with all those hoity-toity folks?”

  “I’d like you to see Blue run.”

  “I don’t even own a decent dress.”

  “I’ll buy you one. Fort Worth’s a big town. Lots of stores there.”

  “Oh, TJ.” She sighed, the sound vaguely wistful. Scared, more. “You don’t understand.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Her gaze turned troubled. “I’m nothing like them. I wouldn’t fit. And the last thing I want to do is embarrass you.”

  “Embarrass me?”

  “They’d just turn their noses up at ol’ Maggie Grier.”

  He steeled himself against the way she saw herself. Unworthy. “We’d be there with you—Boomer and me. Lodi, too. You wouldn’t have to face anyone alone.”

 
“Folks like her, out there,” Maggie said, staring over his shoulder as if he’d never spoken. “They’d be everywhere at the racetrack.”

  TJ couldn’t help himself. He turned. The couple had climbed down from the runabout and strode toward the corral. Toward Blue. Boomer met them coming, talking and gesturing in his loud voice.

  “Look at her, TJ,” Maggie said, her words barely above a whisper. “You can just about smell her money from here. That dress of hers—how much do you suppose it cost?”

  Through the glass pane, his gaze clung to the woman. She kept her hand tucked in her companion’s arm, and the wide-brimmed contraption she wore on her head prevented TJ from getting a good look at her face.

  But there was something about her. The alluring sway to her hips…

  The fine hairs stood up on the back of his neck. He leaned closer to the glass, swiped at a fine layer of dirt to see through it better—and stared harder.

  The air of confidence she carried about her. The control. That blood-warming package of femininity, fashion and grace.

  He swore. Told himself it wasn’t possible, that it was only a figment of his imagination stirred up by Lodi’s announcement of an intended exposition on the C Bar C. Teeth gritted, TJ’s glance swung to the man with her, but they’d moved beyond his range of view.

  He swore again and bolted away from the window. He sprinted past the line of stalls, past the tack room and toward the door at the back of the stables.

  “TJ.” Maggie sounded alarmed as she hurried after him. “What is it?”

  He ignored her, yanked open the door and burst outside. The corral was closer here. In plain view. Emmett was inside the rails and appeared oblivious to their visitors while he fiddled with attaching the end of a hose to the water pump. Lodi walked toward them with Blue on a lead rope, already stripped of his racing saddle.

  The door clattered shut behind TJ. Boomer swung around at the sound. Whatever he’d been saying died on his lips, but the grim set to his mouth declared he’d been feeling less than friendly with his visitors.

  In unison, the man and woman turned, too.

  Recognition slammed into TJ. It’d been a long, hate-filled year since he’d breathed the same air as Kullen Brosius, the man who conspired to put him through a farce of a trial and long months of jail time. Seeing him now, with Callie Mae, set the hate on fire.

  Maggie grasped his arm, as if she wanted to spare him from the burning. “Let’s go back inside, son.”

  He shrugged free and strode forward with a purpose that gave his dreams of revenge life. He would’ve rammed his fist down Kullen’s shyster-lawyer throat if Boomer hadn’t stepped in front of him and prevented it.

  “Easy, TJ,” he hissed. “You want to end up back in jail?”

  TJ shoved him back; Boomer caught himself with a quick step. Yet despite the fury raging through him, TJ stayed put. Boomer was right. He’d be a fool to destroy the life he’d worked hard to put back together, just for the pleasure of breaking the man’s damn neck.

  “Well, well, well,” Kullen drawled, looking pretty in his shiny leather shoes and fancy Hereford suit. “We meet again, don’t we?”

  “You son of a bitch,” he growled.

  “Let it go, TJ.” Boomer barked the warning. “You don’t have to talk to either of ’em.”

  This time, TJ refused to listen. He intended to talk, all right. Seeing Callie Mae now hadn’t been in his plans. It was too soon. He wasn’t ready.

  But she was here, and so was Kullen, and if it was the last thing TJ ever did, he intended to find out exactly what happened the night Danny died.

  Chapter Three

  If Callie Mae hadn’t been so determined to keep TJ from his vices and to save Tres Pinos for herself, she would’ve made sure she never laid eyes on him ever again, but there he was. In the flesh. Tall, rugged, disgustingly handsome—and looking mad enough to bite a rattlesnake.

  Unexpectedly, her heart jumped to her throat. She blamed it on the quick rush of hate she’d kept festering inside her for so long. She told herself her reaction to seeing him again after all these months had nothing to do with him being one of her mother’s best cowboys. Or that he had the maddening ability to turn the heart of most every female in the entire Texas Panhandle with his damned charm and virility.

  No. Her reaction had everything to do with his betrayal—her anger at the actions that cost her young brother his life.

  She stiffened, dragged her eyes off him and met Maggie Grier’s gaze instead. The woman suffered great shame from the crime her son had committed; the pain from it still showed on her face. Yet Callie Mae read the worry there, too. The apprehension. What did she think Callie Mae would do? Shoot TJ where he stood?

  Unexpectedly, her heart dipped. God knew the man deserved it, but she wouldn’t stoop so low. She had her pride, after all. She just had to fight to hang on to it.

  She recalled her purpose in coming to see him. To keep the exposition with its insufferable horse racing and the vices that came with it off his eighty acres. Her success in convincing him would require every bit of her tolerance, wits and determination, and she gathered her courage to face him.

  “Hello, TJ.” She managed to keep her tone cool, aloof. In control.

  His eyes, dark as saddle leather, swung from Kullen and slammed into her. Their ferocity rocked her with the warning that she’d underestimated the fury simmering inside him.

  “Whatever you’re up to with him, Callie Mae, you can damn well forget it,” he snapped.

  Her courage slipped. She yanked it back up again. “I’ve a matter to discuss with you, that’s all.”

  “I’ll bet you do.”

  She ignored his sarcasm. “It won’t take long.” She lifted her chin and speared him with her most haughty glare. “But before I begin, I insist you behave in an upright and civil manner to both of us so that we may proceed accordingly.”

  “You want civil, darlin’? You want upright?” His voice, low and lethal, slid shivers up her spine. “Funny. Last time we met, both of you were inclined to be neither.”

  She flinched. The last time… the pain and grief from losing Danny had been unbearable, the need to make TJ pay for his actions consuming.

  She bore through the memories and refused to feel guilt. Or let him sway her from what she had to do. “I need to talk to you. About your ownership of Tres Pinos Valley, that is.”

  She hated the thread of desperation in her voice. If the man had a shred of curiosity about her purpose, his animosity did a fine job of hiding it. Yet, something akin to surprise flickered across his dark expression before he quickly banked it.

  “Yeah? Well, I have a thing or two to say to you, too,” he said.

  “Now’s not the time, TJ,” said Boomer.

  TJ shifted toward the older man, his jaw hardening. “Too much time has passed.”

  “Maybe. But you’d be a fool to talk now before you’re ready. And you know you’re not.” He shot a cold look toward Kullen. “Best climb back into your rig and ride out, y’hear? Take Miss Lockett with you.”

  Callie Mae stiffened. His rudeness stung. She’d never met the man before, but most every rancher in the Panhandle knew of his expertise in horseflesh. Burly-chested, with thick white sideburns and moustache, he clearly had a strong and loyal friendship with TJ, too. The way Boomer kept his meaty fists clenched, as if he was ready to fight for TJ, well, it was obvious he had no intention of letting TJ talk to her.

  Not that TJ seemed so inclined.

  Worse, Callie Mae had the disadvantage. She didn’t know what TJ was or wasn’t ready for, but Boomer was determined to protect him, and his mother kept staring at her, looking terrified.

  Callie Mae’s determination wavered. She needed to regroup and change her tactics. She had to find a way to talk to TJ alone and give herself the advantage.

  “Go on.” Boomer made a shooing motion, as if she was a pesky critter to be chased away.

  She squared her shoulders and hung
on to her pride. Lockett pride. If anyone here expected her to beg TJ for his attention, then they’d be sorely disappointed.

  “Let’s go, Kullen,” she said.

  She pivoted, flaring her skirt hems, but Kullen grasped her elbow with unexpected firmness, stopping her. Her startled glance flew upward.

  She encountered his smile. A shrewd curving of his lips that showed his amusement from being in control. That he enjoyed its power. But mostly, his smile hinted of secrets—a few choice aces tucked inside his sleeve, waiting for him when he needed them most.

  “Certainly.” He pulled her closer with a possessiveness he didn’t often show. Until now. He cocked his head toward TJ. “Do tell. What have you been doing since they sprung you out of jail?”

  TJ’s expression darkened. “None of your damned business.”

  Kullen appeared unaffected by the man’s gathering wrath. He swept an arm outward, indicating their surroundings. “Living on this horse farm, working with horses all day, every day. Guess it’d get you to thinking about racing them again, wouldn’t it? Wait.” He halted and appeared to feign surprise. “Is that a thoroughbred racehorse behind you? Well, I’ll be damned. It is.”

  Callie Mae froze. Her mind veered past Kullen’s mockery to lock on one word and its implication.

  Racehorse.

  TJ breathed a curse. His glance shot toward Boomer.

  Boomer’s glance shot toward TJ.

  And Callie Mae’s lifted to the regal stallion behind them, held on a lead rope by a youth, barely into his twenties, small-boned and shaggy-haired.

  A jockey.

  “I believe his name is ‘Blue Whistler,’ my lovely Callie Mae.” Kullen’s smile deepened, as if he reveled in the advantage he held. The knowledge that no one knew he possessed until now. “But they call him Blue.”

  “Oh, God.” Maggie sounded alarmed. “How does he know so much about us?”

  “I know you’re heading to Fort Worth soon, too,” Kullen said smoothly. “That beautiful horse is all signed up to race at the stock show there.”

  “Please.” Maggie took a pleading step forward.

  TJ flung an arm out, holding her back. “Stay out of it, Maggie.”