Fearless Gunfighter Page 3

  The cheap motels had seemed a better match for his lower-than-a-snake’s-belly mood. He’d stayed in Lubbock just long enough for Lauren’s parents to make the flight from Baton Rouge, Louisiana, to Lubbock to be with their devastated daughter.

  Lauren had taken the news of Rod’s death as badly or worse than Tucker had expected. At one point, Tucker had to literally hold her up to keep her from hitting the floor. Only thing that held her even halfway together until her parents arrived was that the kids needed her.

  She was a train wreck, shock and heartbreak reducing her to a state of helplessness that mimicked that of her toddler daughter.

  Tucker hadn’t been in a lot better shape himself, but watching Lauren face the tragedy rode his nerves even harder.

  Living, breathing, laughing one minute. Brain-dead six seconds later, though Rod’s body had managed to hold on to life for two more hours.

  All for what? That was the question that wouldn’t let go of Tucker.

  He should be in Oklahoma this coming weekend, competing in one of the best-paying rodeos in the September circuit. He’d started in that direction twice, had even made it to the outskirts of Tulsa once, only to turn around and head back to Texas.

  His life was bull riding. It was all he’d ever known. All he wanted to know. But that could have just as easily been his skull the bull was stamping instead of Rod’s.

  Had watching Rod struggle for that last breath turned Tucker into a coward? Or was he finally developing some brains to go with the testosterone that usually fueled him?

  He stopped in front of the gate to the Double K Ranch and left his engine running while he got out, pulled the latch and sent the gate swinging wide.

  A few minutes later, he stopped a few yards down from the front of Esther Kavanaugh’s sprawling ranch house. He felt years older than he had a couple of months ago when he was here for his brother Riley’s wedding.

  The house looked the same as it had the first time he’d wound up at Esther’s door almost as done in as he felt now. That time it had been his parents who had died unexpectedly.

  He started to get out of the truck but reconsidered when he realized there wasn’t a light on in the house. Ranchers rose at sunrise. No use to wake everyone in the house this late.

  They’d have questions. He was in no mood to answer them tonight. Morning would be soon enough to lay his problems on his two older brothers and Esther.

  If anyone could help him come to grips with his twisted emotions, it would be Pierce and Riley. If anyone could figuratively give him a kick in the rear that would get him going again, it would be Esther Kavanaugh.

  Come to think of it, the kick might be more than figurative if she felt like he needed it.

  He shoved his seat back as far as it would go, stretched his legs out beneath the dashboard and made himself as comfortable as he could.

  Fatigue set in. His eyes grew heavy. His mind took a crazy turn. He fell asleep wondering what the woman from Hank’s would have felt like in his arms if he’d asked her to dance.

  Tuesday, September 19:

  RACHEL SAT HUNCHED in the corner like a guilty child in time-out. The room was still dark but her eyes had adjusted enough to the scant strip of light pushing in from beneath the door that she could make her way around the shadowy environment. Additional light would have made the cramped space even more miserable.

  She’d lost count of the days she’d been here. They ran together like drops of spilled coffee. The strong, black brew was delivered every morning, usually accompanied with dry, cold and frequently burned toast.

  That was her only way of knowing that a new day had started. The coffee was the bright spot in the vacuous existence devoid of everything except dread and visions of escape.

  As much as she craved the coffee, she never finished the full cup. Show that she enjoyed something too much and the monster would stop bringing it.

  She never knew what to expect from his visits. Vile language. Threats. Painful slaps to her face or shoves that sent her crashing to the floor.

  Bizarrely, there were also times that he showed a hint of compassion. Like the second time he’d visited her in this hellhole.

  She’d been starving. He’d come with a bowl of what tasted like chicken stock. Her pain had been so intense, her joints and muscles so swollen and inflamed she couldn’t get the spoon to her mouth.

  He’d fed her, slowly, encouraging her to swallow. When she’d had her fill, he wiped her face with a wet cloth and pushed several pills into her mouth. For the pain, he’d said. She didn’t trust him, but she swallowed them anyway.

  She’d fallen asleep almost instantly. When she woke, the thin sheets on the pallet that were stained with her blood had been changed and her laundered clothes were thrown over the one uncomfortable straight-back chair in the room.

  There was also a small heavily stained sink and commode in the back corner, separated from the rest of the space by a dirty strip of printed cotton held by nails in the ceiling.

  Who’d have ever believed she’d be thrilled for filthy facilities like that? Hot tears pushed at the backs of her eyelids. Would she ever escape the monster?

  The sound of a slamming door cracked through the silence. Rachel’s pulse pounded. Her body trembled.

  He was coming.

  She hunched farther back in the corner, hugging her arms around her knees. The doorknob turned. The door squeaked open. The pungent odor of garlic and sweat swept into the room with the monster.

  She studied his face before the door closed behind him, shutting out the extra light. He smiled as he always did, a big grin that told her just how much he was enjoying this.

  He set a tray of food on the floor. “Did you miss me?” His tone was cocky and teasing, as if they were friends or lovers. Her skin crawled at the thought, though blessedly he hadn’t touched her sexually—yet.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked. “Why are you keeping me here?”

  “I hate coming home to an empty house after a hard day at work.” He chuckled at his sick joke.

  “I have money,” Rachel said. “A lot of money. I can pay you whatever you want if you’ll just let me go free.”

  “If I gave you your freedom, I’d lose mine. Besides, I already have a woman who gives me all the money I ask for.”

  “I can give you more. I won’t go to the police. I promise. I’ll stay out of your life forever and never mention this to anyone.”

  He chuckled again. “Now, why would I let you go now? Your ugly bruises are almost gone. It no longer makes me sick to look at you.”

  “You’ll never get away with this.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet lady. People get away with far worse all the time. No one cares what you do as long as it doesn’t affect them. Even murder gets buried in the haystack.”

  Eventually he’d kill her, but he’d do it slow and torturously, get his rocks off on her fear, revel in her misery as if it were a sexual adventure.

  How sick would a man have to be to do that?

  If Sydney were here, she’d be able to figure him out. She’d get in his mind, discover the demons that drove him. She’d find his weaknesses and use them against him.

  Sydney wasn’t here, but she’d know by now that Rachel hadn’t come home from her vacation. She’d be certain something was terribly wrong.

  She’d found the Swamp Strangler when no one else could. She’d find Cowboy Monster, too.

  All Rachel had to do was stay alive and sane until she did.

  Chapter Five

  Esther Kavanaugh stretched and kicked off the lightweight blanket. The oppressive summer heat and humidity hadn’t given in to autumn yet. It seldom did in September, but she had no complaints.

  The new cooling and heating system Pierce had installed ke
pt the house as cool and comfortable as she wanted it no matter what the temperature outside. He’d made a dozen other repairs on the old house, as well.

  His brother Riley pitched in and helped, even though he was newly married as well and establishing his own ranch right down the road.

  That was the kind of young men the Lawrence brothers had grown into. She was thankful for them every day and had loved all three of them since the day she first met them. Now they were literally giving her a reason to keep breathing and getting up every morning to face a new day.

  Pierce had been the first to come to her rescue after her husband’s death. He’d shown up one morning with his adorable five-year-old daughter, Jaci, just in the nick of time, as the saying went.

  Since she was no longer able to pay her bills or take care of the Double K Ranch, he’d offered to buy the ranch from her—house, barns, livestock and all, closed on it days before foreclosure officers at the bank got a chance to get their greedy hands on everything she and Charlie had struggled all those years to build.

  Selling the ranch to Pierce wasn’t even like losing it. She’d likely have willed it to him anyway since he was the oldest of the brothers she considered her only family.

  She’d sold it to Pierce for the price it took to keep it out of foreclosure so he could use the rest of his savings to get the ranch running efficiently again.

  She hadn’t asked him for a thing in return, but he’d made her a verbal promise that she’d have her house, her garden and her chickens until the day the good Lord called her home.

  No reason for a paper contract when you dealt with a man who was as good as his word.

  Best part of all was now she had Pierce, his wife, Grace, and Jaci making their home at the ranch. They’d moved into their own cabin two weeks ago, but they were close enough they were in and out of her house every day. And she had Riley, his wife, Dani, and her niece Constance living only a few miles away.

  That only left their younger brother, Tucker, for her to worry about.

  A world-class bull rider who thrived on the danger and excitement of rodeo life. Followed the circuit, constantly on the move. How was he ever going to meet the right woman when all he had time for was those buckle bunnies out looking for a good time?

  He thought he was living the good life but he kept Esther busy just praying he didn’t get hurt by one of those kicking, stamping, snorting bulls.

  Worries or not, taking in the Lawrence brothers had been one of the smartest things she and Charlie had ever done.

  Instinctively her hand reached over and touched the spot where her husband had slept beside her for most of her adult life. The familiar ache grew heavy in her chest. Lord knew she missed that man. Always would.

  But lying here getting all pitiful over things she couldn’t change wouldn’t bring Charlie back. She threw her legs over the side of the bed and wiggled her feet into her slippers before padding to the kitchen.

  By the time the coffee was ready, the sun had topped the horizon and the roosters were crowing their welcome to a new day. She filled her favorite mug with the brew, the cup Pierce’s daughter, Jaci, had given her that said I “heart” Grandma.

  That little girl could sure make Esther’s heart smile.

  Esther spooned a smidgen of sugar into her coffee. She’d have liked a heaping teaspoonful but Doc Carter kept harping on her to take it easy on her sweets.

  Of course, if she listened to everything that old pill pusher said, she might as well be eating cowhide and clover.

  Pierce and Riley would be up and hard at work by now—rancher’s hours. But one or both would be stopping by later knowing she’d have a hearty breakfast waiting. She’d been cooking big ranch breakfasts for more than half a century and she’d be doing it as long as she was able.

  Coffee in hand, she walked through the family room to the front door. Nothing like swaying in her new porch swing and sharing the first light of day with the early birds who’d be flitting around her feeders instead of out searching for worms.

  She turned the key in the door only to realize she’d forgotten to lock it again. Years of habit were hard to break although Pierce cautioned her times were changing. They just changed a lot slower around the town of Winding Creek than they did in the big cities.

  She opened the door and stepped outside.

  “What the dickens?”

  She stared at a mud-encrusted truck parked rock-throwing distance from her house. She was about to go get her shotgun and check it out when she saw a hairy-faced man step out of the truck and stretch like he was trying to get the kinks out of his muscles.

  Oh m’God. It was Tucker. She set her mug on the porch railing post and raced to greet him.

  He opened his arms and she threw herself into them.

  “Sorry if I smell as disgusting as I feel,” he said.

  She stood back and took a gander at him. “You look like you’ve been sleeping with the cows. How long have you been in that truck?”

  “A day or two.”

  “Without sleep. That’s dangerous, Tucker. You could...”

  He slipped an arm around her ample waist. “Calm down. I got plenty of sleep, just not in a bed. Lights were all out when I got here and I didn’t want to wake up the whole household.”

  “There’s no one here to wake up but me.”

  “Where’s Pierce and his crew?”

  “They moved into their own cabin two weeks ago.”

  “That was fast. All he had was a foundation and a shell when I was here for Riley’s wedding. I figured it would be Thanksgiving before he had it livable.”

  “He had lots of help from Riley and the neighbors, which you’d know if you came around more often. I can’t believe your brothers didn’t tell me you were coming today.”

  “They don’t know. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. I had a few days off before I hit the next rodeo and decided to stop by for one of your famous breakfasts. Fresh yard eggs, thick slices of bacon, fluffy biscuits and homemade blackberry jam. My mouth’s already watering.”

  “You came to the right place. First thing you need is to find a razor and I ’spect a shower wouldn’t hurt none, either.”

  He rubbed his heavily whiskered chin. “Right on both counts.” He reached back in the truck for a duffel and slung it over his shoulder.

  Just having him here lit up her world, but she wasn’t quite buying the spur-of-the-moment excuse. Something was bothering him. He was saying the right things, but the words didn’t quite ring true. It wasn’t just his haggard appearance. She could see trouble in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

  She’d pry the truth out of him later. Right now she was going to do what would make them both feel good.

  Feed him.

  * * *

  TUCKER KICKED OUT of his boots, stripped out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. Pipes creaked in the old house, but the water was hot and his cramped muscles reveled in the massaging spray.

  Crazy that this place had the feel of home though he’d only lived in it for ten months. Painful months of grieving and coming to grips with an existence that would never again include his parents.

  He’d been afraid, angry and, most of all, heartbroken. The Kavanaughs had helped him make it through the trauma, especially Esther. Her faith, love and compassion had been his salvation.

  He didn’t expect that kind of miracle this time. The answers he needed now had to come from inside himself.

  By the time he’d showered, shaved and dressed in a pair of his most worn and comfortable jeans, the odors of bacon and coffee were doing a number on his stomach.

  He shoved his feet into his boots and started down the hall. Laughter and familiar voices chimed in before he reached the kitchen. Esther had clearly wasted no time in spreading the news that he was here.


  “What are you two freeloaders doing here?” he joked as he joined his brothers in the kitchen.

  “Checking to see why you came sneaking in like a horse thief in the middle of the night,” Pierce said.

  “I just figured you stopped by to rub in how much money you’re making working eight seconds a night,” Riley said, pulling him into a playful neck hold.

  “No way. I just came by for Esther’s cooking.”

  “I can buy that,” Pierce said. “Let’s get to it before the biscuits get cold.”

  Breakfast turned into a boisterous, laid-back reunion. He needed that more than either of them would guess.

  * * *

  SYDNEY STARED INTO the bathroom mirror, her reflection a haunting image of the agony that had kept her awake most of the night. Her eyelids were puffy, the circles below her eyes dark.

  The little sleep she’d gotten had been restless and interrupted by frightening nightmares where Rachel was crying for help or fighting for her life.

  The highway noises hadn’t helped. Eighteen-wheelers sounded as if they were roaring through her room. Exhaustion would work against her. She needed to be fully alert today, picking up on every clue no matter how small or how well hidden.

  She knew from experience and training that it was the seemingly unimportant details that frequently made the difference.

  Her sister had spent almost seventy dollars in a bakery. That couldn’t have all been for coffee and sweets, but it was a large enough purchase that hopefully whoever had waited on Rachel would remember her. They might recall if she’d been alone or with someone. If she’d seemed distraught or worried. If anyone had harassed her in any way.

  Reaching for her brush, Sydney ran it through her layered sandy-blond hair, attempting to force the unruly locks into place. She was only mildly successful.

  Her movements on automatic, Sydney applied the basics—moisturizing sunscreen, eyeliner, mascara, a smear of gloss on her lips. The first stop of the morning would be Dani’s Delights.