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THE NEXT AFTERNOON, Kiera unpacked her camera gear and flopped onto the motel room bed. The mine trails were precisely what the name indicated. Trails. Not roads. Why hadn’t she checked more carefully before she’d set out? Carrying her equipment at altitude had been exhausting. Note to self. Order a lightweight travel tripod. Exhausted or not, she couldn’t wait to get her images uploaded to her laptop so she could start working on them.
She’d stopped for lunch in Cripple Creek, where there was more history to photograph. And a steam engine. She’d taken a break and visited the little historical museum. Wandered into one of the casinos, allowed herself a budget of ten dollars to play the slots. She came out with eleven.
She’d turned off her phone, telling herself it was the lack of a decent cell signal on the trails, but now admitted she hadn’t wanted to deal with Frank yet. If he’d even called. With a sigh, she extracted her phone from the compartment in her camera bag and turned it on. No new messages? So much for dealing with Frank. It wasn’t like she wanted to deal with him now, but he hadn’t even called. Or texted.
Was he sicker? If so, he’d better have had the common sense to take care of himself. Derek or one of the cowboys would have checked on him when they returned his truck, wouldn’t they?
Of course they would. Frank, unlike Ben, had gotten medical attention.
She left the phone on the night table and went for a much-needed shower.
Afterward, wrapped in her robe, she opened her photo processing program. Mountain vistas wouldn’t need much work, but she looked forward to taking a more creative approach for the rusted old mining equipment, the ramshackle headframes, the weather-beaten shacks. Caught up in what she considered the real fun of photography, Kiera hardly noticed the hour until her stomach said it was time for dinner. She felt like treating herself to something more upscale. Did upscale even exist in Deer Ridge? She opened a search engine to see what the town had to offer.
Lots of fast food, little cafés, a couple of Italian places. Two brew pubs. Japanese, Chinese. She ruled out the Mexican place she’d been to with Frank. Casa de Tapas? Interesting. She’d give it a try.
Kiera changed into black denims and a lightweight sweater. And, because this was Deer Ridge, Colorado, she put on her new cowboy boots. From what she’d seen, they were standard footwear. After gathering her hair into a high ponytail, she laughed. Cowboy boots and a ponytail. Rural Colorado at its finest. To add a touch of sparkle, she put on the earrings she’d bought at the craft market. Satisfied, she shut down her computer and picked up her phone to add it to her purse.
Text message alerts appeared on the display.
One from Natalie, saying to call her. Had something happened?
Trying to shove aside the rising panic, the shiver down her spine, Kiera tapped in Natalie’s number.
“If it’s all right with you, I’m going to move back into my place,” Natalie said when she answered. “The remodel’s far enough along so I have one functioning bathroom and plumbing in the kitchen. I’ve been working so many shifts, I’m hardly home—or at your place—anyway. My place is closer to work, and I’m usually exhausted when I get off, so it’s easier for me to be there. I’ll stop by and water your plants and pick up your mail.”
“Don’t worry about the mail. I’ll have the post office hold it. Thanks for everything.” Kiera gave her a rundown of what to make sure was secure, and promised they’d get together for dinner—her treat—once Kiera was back from vacation.
Feeling better knowing Natalie wouldn’t be in danger if anything happened at Kiera’s house, she moved to her next message. From Frank. She tapped it open.
I’m fine.
He was fine? That was his message?
She swiped to delete it, then berated herself for feeling put out. She was the one who’d left. She owed Frank an apology. And an explanation. Could she deal with it tonight?
Get it over with, and the sooner the better. Easier now with her own living accommodations. Less awkward than sleeping across the hall from him, and she wasn’t going to invite him to her motel room.
She responded. I’ll be at the Casa de Tapas at 6:30.
If he wanted to meet her, fine. If not, that would be fine, too.
It was five forty-five now. She’d arrive around six, have a calming drink, have time to figure out what to say. If she was lucky, he’d be the one to break things off and she wouldn’t bear the guilt.
Lucky? What was she thinking? Where was Kiera the Proactive? She was the one who couldn’t deal with a relationship. She had to make the first move. Had to assume responsibility. This was going to be a lot harder than calling her clients to tell them she would no longer be their financial advisor.
At the restaurant, rather than sit at the bar, Kiera requested one of the small tables by a window. No matter what happened with Frank—if he even showed up—she was going to have dinner here. A chalkboard above the bar listed the drink specials. Tonight, she decided, would be the celebration she’d never had yesterday. She was driving, but she’d have one drink, and she’d eat.
“I’ll have the blood orange margarita,” Kiera said to the server.
“Good choice,” the server said.
Didn’t they always?
While she waited for her cocktail, Kiera perused the food offerings. She’d been lured in by the idea of tapas, so she concentrated on that section of the menu. How big were the portions?
Would be nice if there was someone to share with. Then you could try more of them.
Ten minutes later, the server returned with Kiera’s drink and set a basket of warm bread on the table. “Are you ready to order, or would you like a few more minutes?”
Kiera asked for a little time. Not that she was waiting to see if Frank showed up.
She sipped her drink. Slowly. It was twice the size of drinks at the Eagle’s Roost. She broke off a piece of bread, buttered it. Nibbled at it. Slowly. Not because she was waiting to see if Frank showed up. She’d said six-thirty, and it was only twenty past. Not that she was checking the time.
From her seat, she had a view of the hostess stand, and watched several couples enter the restaurant. No gray-hatted cowboy.
When the server returned, Kiera ordered the calamari. She’d see the portion size and add other choices as she finished each one.
The server agreed that was a good plan and swished away.
Kiera nibbled on another piece of bread.
“I see her. Thanks.”
A familiar voice. Kiera put down her bread and gazed toward the hostess stand. A gray cowboy hat. Beneath it, Frank’s face.
She struggled to keep her expression neutral as he strode across the room. She nodded to the vacant chair, bracing herself for what he’d say.
~~
FRANK SAT, TOOK OFF his hat, set it on the chair next to his. “Is everything all right? I figured something important must have happened, for you to rush off without a word.”
Kiera’s eyes widened, their blue depths piercing him worse than the mountain lion.
Dammit. He’d vowed not to show how she’d hurt him, to let her explain. The server’s appearance asking for his drink order was a welcome interruption.
“Dr. Pepper,” he said.
“Pepsi all right?” she asked.
“Fine.”
She walked away.
Maybe he should have come up with other rarely-stocked beverages. Keep the server here a little longer while he extracted his foot from his mouth.
“Can we start over?” he asked.
Kiera shrugged. “From when?”
“Easy one. From when I walked in here. I saw you sitting there, and my brain disconnected.” He stood, pushed in his chair and gripped the back.
She took a sip of an orange-colored cocktail in a glass the size of a goldfish bowl. Maybe there was a fish swimming around in there.
Kiera picked up a piece of bread, took a very ladylike bite. Swallowed. Wiped her mouth. “Fine. Hello, Frank. Would you like to join me?”
“Thank you.” He sat. “How was your day?”
Nothing like mundane small talk.
She took another bite of bread, swallowed. “Good. Now tell me what you really wanted to say.”
Heat crawled up his neck. “I already did. Why did you disappear?”
A sip of her drink, another bite of bread. “I need to concentrate on my photography. I understand you’re trying to find the cattle rustler, and you think whoever’s making those phone calls to Derek might come after him. I was an unexpected guest at the Triple-D, and then at your house. I thought about it, and I can’t see how I’m involved or in danger. The commute from my motel to the ranch isn’t a big deal—traffic to work was ten times worse—so I can still get Derek’s bookkeeping set up.”
The server came back with Frank’s soda, a small platter of fried calamari and marinara sauce, a napkin and flatware setup, and two plates.
“I ordered this to see how big the portions were,” Kiera said. “If you want to join me, you’re welcome to. My plan is to stick to the tapas menu, but you’re free to order whatever you want. Have you eaten here before? Do you know what’s good?”
He smiled at the way she rambled. “No to both.”
Kiera passed him the menu.
“I’m game to try the tapas,” he said. “What if we order one of everything? There are six of them. If we’re still hungry, we can reorder the ones we like.”
Her eyes widened. She took the calamari platter, transferred half of them to one of the plates the server had delivered. “Maybe two at a time?”
“That’ll work.” He wasn’t going to disagree with anything she said tonight.
They ended up trying all six selections, with a second helping of the bacon-wrapped dates. As they ate, Kiera told him about her photography expedition. About the funeral for Madelynn, and the office memorial service. “I might cut my so-called vacation short after the funeral rather than go back and forth,” she said.
He told her he’d been resting, taking his meds, and—after a heated debate with himself—told her about Javi’s showing up on ranch property.
“Do you think he’s the rustler?”
“Not enough evidence at this point.”
“How hard is it to spook cattle?” Kiera said.
“Not hard, although in the middle of the night, the animals would rather be sleeping. A loud noise could do it.”
Kiera smiled. Frank doubted it was for his benefit, but he could enjoy it nonetheless.
“A coffee grinder,” she said.
Frank chuckled as he made the connection. “City Slickers. I saw that movie.”
“Maybe Javi did, too.”
“I doubt he brought a battery-powered coffee grinder to the pasture, but there are plenty of other ways to get cattle moving. The hard part is getting them to go where you want them to.”
“So, not likely he was working alone.”
“Agreed.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
He explained what Derek had decided. “Not much we can do until tomorrow.”
“Are you going to work?”
“Yep.”
“We should leave,” she said. “There are people waiting for tables.”
Frank motioned for the check.
Kiera protested. “This is my night. I invited you to join me. If memory serves, you paid at the Mexican restaurant and said it would be my turn next time.”
He relented. After the check was settled, he offered to walk her to her car.
She accepted. When they reached it, she clicked the door unlocked. “Good night, Frank. I hope you’ll keep me posted on what happens with Javi and Derek’s cattle. This is also good-bye. I don’t think things can work between us.”