Walking back to his house, his mind went over the things Beth--no, Bethany--had revealed. Roger wished she’d made up her mind to trust him earlier. She received a signed and notarized deed to his ranch along with a quitclaim and instructions from his father to “trust no one”--that was a lot of responsibility. He admired her ability to step up and shoulder it, even when she was in shock from witnessing the death of his father. She did what Richard asked, even though it put her in more danger. He acknowledged her courage and compassion in taking on this mission for a dying man she didn’t know. It seemed that the more he learned about her, the more he wanted to know. He wondered how many years it would take to know everything. He hoped at least fifty.
Roger walked into his house and over to the intercom that connected to the bunkhouse. “Aaron?”
“Yes, Boss?” Aaron replied after a slight pause.
“I think we need to post guards. Have one of the boys sleep in the horse barn with one of the dogs. He doesn’t need to stay awake, just be there in case of trouble. Post another in the hay barn with old Blue,” Roger directed. “Blue is the best and the hay would be the easiest place to create a diversion if they wanted one.” He warned, “Make certain he has a couple of extinguishers and the hose hooked to the hydrant in case there’s trouble. I know if I was going to go after someone on a ranch, I’d start a fire to get all attention away from the house.”
Roger didn’t wait for Aaron to respond. He turned away from the intercom as he heard, “Already done, Boss. I knew you’d rethink the idea of guards. The boys don’t mind sleeping in the hay.”
Roger smiled. Aaron had served eight years in the Rangers with him, and they worked well together. Posting guards might cost each worker sleep, but it made him feel more comfortable about Bethany sleeping in the guest cabin alone. His body tightened when he thought of her in that bed, but he forced himself to put the thought of her lush, firm, curvaceous body out of his mind. At least he told himself to back off, but the mental image was difficult to drop.
He’d almost lost it when he took the food basket over there and heard her in the shower; it had taken every ounce of his will to walk out the bedroom door without peeking in on her. Then, when she showed up for dinner in that form-hugging outfit, he could have swallowed his tongue. He’d given the boys the evil eye and kept close to her during the meal. He wanted none of them to think a flirtation with her was acceptable. He knew they would give him a hard time in the morning, but they wouldn’t harass that sexy woman staying in the guest cabin. That was his job, and he felt he was up to the task. He smiled at himself over that thought.
Roger walked to the back of the house, entering his study to work on some accounts. He was able to focus on ranch business enough to put her out of his mind. The figures were good. The new cattle bloodlines were showing all the traits he needed. They had low birth weight, fast growth on natural feeds, and good marbling in the meat at slaughter time. He would know more over the next three years, as the second generation matured and produced a third generation. He was also pleased with this years’ colt crop. They were showing good growth without overgrowth, brains and willingness to learn, and overall build for a good working cow horse. That Hancock line stallion was worth his cost if he kept throwing colts like these.
Roger rubbed his tired eyes. It was after ten and he had to be up early. It had been fun riding that little horse today. Sometimes he forgot that riding could be fun and not just a way to get around cattle. The scenery wasn’t too bad, either. He wondered again exactly what color her hair was before she went into hiding. He thought of a way to find out, and his jeans became painfully tight at the thought. He smiled and repositioned himself for comfort. Once again, she was on his mind. This was getting to be a habit. He headed for his bedroom, took a quick cold shower, and climbed into bed. His body was aching for release, so he began counting sheep, but ended up counting redheads. Sleep was a long time coming.
************
Not fifty feet away, Bethany was tossing and turning on the queen bed. She felt relief at being able to confide in Roger, but he confused her. Talk about mixed signals; one minute he was almost leering, the next he was pushing her away and walking off with the barest of courtesy.
She didn’t know what she expected or wanted from him. She enjoyed his company, thought him sexy and good-looking, felt safe when he was around; but her shyness around him made her feel like a girl with a crush on the hot football player. One minute she was wondering how it would feel to have him kiss her and the next minute it terrified her that he might. Was she twenty-eight or sixteen? Bobby had her worried that she was an ineffective lover; he’d almost said as much. He blamed her lack of warmth and excessive curves for his extramarital affair.
She tossed and turned for hours. She heard the coyotes howling in the distance; an owl was hooting not far from the cabin, answered by another a great distance away. Sounds of the night critters rustling outside the cabin got her up once to make certain she’d locked the door and the windows. She knew the ranch dogs would alert all to any intruders, but she couldn’t help the unease of sleeping in a strange place.
She forgot to set her alarm clock and was mortified when she saw it was after seven when she awoke in the morning. The sun was streaming in the window as she tore out of bed, grabbed her clothes, threw them on and applied minimal makeup. She glanced in the mirror, admiring the blue gingham print blouse she buttoned up to her breasts to expose some of the lace on the pale camisole. She ran a brush through her curly hair, and then shook her head to set the curls loose once more. With that, she grabbed her mug and headed for the kitchen for coffee. No breakfast this morning, but she took some fruit as she passed the basket on her counter.
Bethany locked the cabin and ran to the kitchen door. The kitchen was empty, but Roger came in while she was pouring her coffee into her mug.
“Good morning. Brought your own cup I see.” He smiled tilting his head to read the mug. “Washoe Valley 50, Top Ten’. Nice, I take it you won the mug?” Roger inquired.
“Yeah, last year--we came in fourth overall, first Featherweight.” She smiled, again stricken by his rugged good looks. “We didn’t get the Best Condition, too much time behind the winner and one of the riders showing for BC weighed a hundred pounds more than I did. It’s difficult for a featherweight to take Best Condition unless the rider is leading and there’s a lot of time to the next,” she explained. “You said that you’d drive me to town. I’m ready. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting. I overslept, sorry.”
“That’s okay. I’ll drive you in and one of the crew will bring you back at closing. Is that okay?” Roger worried that she would demand to drive herself and he didn’t feel comfortable with that idea.
“If you think it necessary. I hate to put you or your hands out.” Bethany liked the idea of spending some extra time with Roger; but worried that he might think her a burden.
“I feel much better about you working in town if we handle it this way,” he assured her. “You’re most vulnerable and open to attack on the highway,” he explained. “I’m still not certain Mom’s wreck was an accident. A car wreck hides evidence if the vehicle burns.” Roger grabbed the keys from the hook by the door, and Bethany walked out behind him.
“Okay, I’ll agree to the protection detail for a few days. But you have to let me put gas into the truck. You can’t be picking up all the costs of this back and forth drive.” Bethany followed him out to his truck, putting her keys away. He helped her into the truck, before moving to the driver’s side.
“We’ll see. I go into town about once a day, anyway, and the hands will be fighting over who gets to come in and collect you. A visit to town lets them see their girlfriends.” Roger smiled over at her as he started the truck and headed for town. “You look good this morning. I like that color of blue on you. I’d like to see your natural hair color some day. I thought I read your eyes are hazel?” he asked.
“They are, but I have green contacts to complete my disguise. I hate them. They make my eyes itch, but I’ll keep wearing them for a few more days. At least until Sparks gives up looking,” she said.
Roger looked over at her. “I’ll bet your hair sets off your hazel eyes and brings out the gold flecks in them.” Roger realized he was running off at the mouth again. He seemed to have no control over his words when he was around her. He felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment.
Bethany noticed both the blush and the compliment but decided not to comment on either. She understood embarrassment and insecurity around a person of the opposite sex. She smiled out the window. “The weather is amazing around here. I know it’s fall at this altitude, but when does the weather reflect the season change?”
“Oh, we’ve been known to get our first snow as early as mid-September or as late as Halloween; but we always have snow by Thanksgiving,” he said. “This year summer arrived early and seems to be running long, but winter will be here before you know it, so enjoy the sun and warmth while it lasts.” Roger was glad to have the topic changed to something safe. Another thing he liked about her: her compassion in trying to ease his embarrassment.
“You still have my cell number in case you need us to come by earlier to pick you up?” he asked. He smiled when she showed him the number stored in her phone. He watched as she left the truck and headed for the front door of the Co-op. He waited until he could see Norman waiting for her. He felt protective. Not exactly in a paternal way, either. He wanted more to protect her from all other men than he wanted to protect her from danger.
Bethany was laughing when she approached Norman. “Is he still watching? Have you two a special signal showing that you’re taking responsibility for me and all is well?” she asked him. “I swear, you men, you think we girls are completely helpless and need to be watched over every second of the day.” While she was laughing, she also felt claustrophobic with all of this protection. She knew they meant well, but she knew she needed some space to breathe.
“Now, he’s just worried. I think he’s sweet on you; you know that, don’t you? He lost one woman he loved to cancer,” the old man said. “He may be a bit overprotective of you if he thinks there could be danger. Be complimented by it; fighting him would only make him sneaky.” Norman grinned at her. “He won’t back off until all dangers are past.” He scratched his chin. “Speaking of which, that fool Sparks was by already this morning. He’s looking for you, wouldn’t say why.” He frowned. “I told him you started at nine. That should buy you time to get settled. I hate answering questions before my second cup of coffee.” Norman pointed her to the coffee pot.
“Thanks. I meant to be here earlier, but I forgot to set my alarm. Sorry.” She moved toward the pot. “I really don’t want to talk to Sparks, but if I dodge him, he’ll just get more suspicious.” She put her purse under the counter. “He can waste his time talking to me all he wants.” Bethany poured coffee into her cup.
The day was busy, with ranchers coming in to place last-minute orders and the two dockworkers loading the large delivery truck for the ranch deliveries after lunch. The remainder of their day would be hauling larger orders out to the ranches. Norman would take over loading from the dock, but most people came by during the week rather than let the old man help them load the heavy bags of grain.
Bethany was in the back when she heard the bell over the door. She walked out of the storeroom to greet the customer and managed to maintain a pleasant smile when she saw it was Agent Sparks. “Hello Agent, Norman told me you had been in. How can I help you?”
“There you are, the elusive Miss--or is it Mrs.--Williams?” His greeting was snide and the question disrespectful. “Seems your hours are quite varied. You come in late, and you leave before closing. You must be good or Mr. Johnson wouldn’t be so lenient.” He smiled at her, but the smile didn’t soften the comment or the insinuation that seemed to go with it.
“I’m just a part-time, temporary employee, Agent. Norman uses me during the times he knows will be busy and lets me go home when it quiets down,” she explained, keeping her voice polite. “Small businesses can’t afford to keep employees standing around if the work isn’t there. Again, what can I do for you?” Bethany tried to keep her voice even and not show how much he irritated her. Inwardly, she could feel her skin crawl.
“Well, I had some questions for you.” Agent Sparks leered at her. “From what I’ve found out so far, you were at the Ride with Matt and Marcia and you have recently traveled from Oklahoma,” he stated after looking at his notepad. “Did you travel along Interstate 40? If so, what day was that?” He had his pen poised over the notepad.
“I did travel I-40 late on Saturday. I spent that night east of Amarillo and continued along I-40 early on Sunday, then turned north to Roy, New Mexico, where I spent that night at the ranch of a friend.” She recounted her trip, some truth mixed with the lies. “From there, I traveled several highways to get to Coyote, New Mexico late on Monday, I think,” she said truthfully. “All the days kind of run together, broken up by Vet Check Fridays and Ride Saturdays,” she explained. “I drove up from Coyote with Matt and Marcia and spent a few nights at the Guest Ranch.” She drew a breath and waited for him to ask his next questions. She didn’t want him to know she saw the murder. She might have to explain herself later, but at this moment, she didn’t feel he needed the information.
“So you were on I-40 on Sunday. Did you stop at any rest areas between Amarillo and the turn off for Roy, New Mexico?” The agent was watching her closely, so Bethany didn’t hesitate.
“No, I don’t recall stopping at any rest areas on Sunday. Since the drive from our camp to Roy was short, I drove straight through,” she lied again, keeping her face bland. “I didn’t even need to stop for fuel.” She controlled her feeling of guilt as she lied through her teeth.
“Well, sounds like you didn’t see anything, since the time of death has been established as late on Sunday.” Agent Sparks turned to a new page in his notebook. “Let’s go to the Ride Camp in Coyote. You got there before any of the other riders. Maybe you remember a blonde-haired lady that drove a silver truck with Washington plates and pulled an aluminum trailer?” He acted casual as he asked the question. “Her name is Bethany Wilcox. She might be just a little older than you and maybe weigh about the same. She has a red Arab with a stripe on his face. Do you recall seeing her?” Sparks regarded her with narrowed eyes, waiting for her response.
“Well I got there early, but I went to Coyote for laundry and took in the sights down by Albuquerque--hardly spent much time in camp.” Bethany was glad she could tell most of the truth in that statement. “I didn’t see a truck with Washington plates, and I really don’t recall seeing a chestnut entered in the distance Harley and I rode,” she said. “She might have been in the 50, but I wouldn’t know about those riders. You get kind of tunnel vision and notice only those competing against you at these events.” She managed a deprecating smile at him. “There are riders and horses all over the place, coming and going all the time, so unless you’re looking for a special friend you seldom notice specific horses or riders.” She shrugged. “Sorry not to be of more help. How was this person involved with the death of Roger’s father?” Bethany watched the agent closely as she asked the question.
“We think that she was either a witness or possibly involved in the kidnapping. We also think that she was the one who went to the Post Office in Monte Vista for the killers.” Agent Sparks kept a good poker face as he put forth this theory, but Bethany felt he didn’t believe what he told her. “I still have a few questions for you.” Agent Sparks made to grab her arm when Bethany turned to assist a customer who had just entered the store.
“I beg your pardon, but I have a customer to help. I’ll be back with you when I’m finished.” Bethany gave him a cold look that caused him to drop his hand back to his side.
She walked over to the customer who was finding what she wanted without assistance. “Hi, how can I help you today? Would you do me a favor and take your time with me?” she asked. Nodding toward Sparks, she continued, “That man is a pest and if I keep busy, maybe he’ll get bored and leave.” Bethany picked up the same product the woman was examining and pretended to be discussing its merits.
“You poor thing, you want me to send Norman over? He’s great at assisting customers to leave who’ve outstayed their welcome.” The woman kept her voice low as she spoke and didn’t look directly at the agent.
“Thanks, but no, he isn’t that bad, just irritating. What’s he doing? I don’t want to look, but I hope he looks really bored.” Bethany smiled at the woman.
“Oh, he looks bored all right; he’s glanced at his watch twice since we’ve been talking and is beginning to look very irritated. Is he an old boyfriend?”
“No, he’s an agent with the FBI, supposedly asking questions about some people I know,” she confided. “He’s fishing, has nothing against anyone, just looking for a person who doesn’t want to be found. Am I terrible in avoiding him?” Bethany looked appealingly at the woman.
“Lots of folks around here don’t want anything to do with the Feds for no other reason than they don’t like the government messing in their business,” the woman agreed. “However, eventually, you’re going to have to talk to him. Might as well get it over.” She sympathetically placed a hand on Bethany’s arm. Bethany smiled and nodded as she turned to walk back to Sparks.
“Okay, Agent. What else did you need to know?” Bethany asked.
“Ms. Williams, you claim that you didn’t see and don’t know Bethany Wilcox, am I correct?” His look said that he was not going to believe whatever she said.
“Right, Agent. I had no dealings that I know of with the person you’re seeking,” she lied without a problem. “If you have no further questions, I have work to get done by the end of the day.” Once more Bethany turned away from the agent.
“I’ll be watching you.” Agent Sparks glared at her. “I’d better not find out that you’ve been lying. That’s obstructing an investigation and can get you arrested,” he snarled, even though he had a polite smile plastered on his mouth.
Bethany kept walking away from him, back into the storeroom. Once there, she leaned against a shelf unit and worked at calming her shaking nerves. Deep breaths and rubbing her arms helped to ease her shaking. She reviewed the past few moments. What she found interesting was the idea that Agent Sparks tied Bethany to the kidnapping.
No one other than the killers had seen her rig in that rest area, and she’d parked in front of the library when she went to the Post Office. Where had the FBI gotten her name and how could they tie her to the crime? Her thoughts went back to the visit to the Post Office. She’d kept her back to the camera when at the box. Crap. She’d not worn gloves. Did they lift a fingerprint from the combination dial? That might connect her to the Post Office, but not to the crime scene. Something didn’t seem right. The FBI really shouldn’t be looking for her. What was Agent Sparks’ game? She waited until she heard the door open and close twice more before going back out into the store. Agent Sparks was gone.
Bethany walked over to Norman, who’d just finished with a customer. “I don’t like that man, and I can’t bring myself to trust anything he says. How does he strike you?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I don’t like government people in the best of cases, and this guy I like even less.” The old man spat in the trashcan. “His eyes are small and mean. He looks through you rather than at you, and I’ve yet to see him look like he believes anything being said.” Norman frowned. “I know they’re trained to doubt, but I would think they could be less rude about it. Might get more cooperation from the public that way.” He shook his head as he turned back to arranging the money in the register.
Samuel Cole came into the store and snarled at Norman and Bethany equally. He did let Bethany take his order, but he then told Norman to check it, as he didn’t trust the new help. “Good-looking women seldom have the brains of a tick,” was the backhanded compliment he paid her.
“I think that old fart likes you,” Norman said as he scratched his head in wonder, watching the departing Cole. “Don’t remember him ever being that nice to Suzie, or calling her good looking.” He chuckled.
“I’m not certain it was a compliment.” She laughed. “But considering my first encounter, today’s was a great improvement.” She’d been watching his interactions with Norman and was beginning to wonder if this man was evil or just an ass. She wished that she could see him talking to the SUV men or even Agent Sparks--something that would definitely tie him to the kidnapping and murder. If Samuel Cole wasn’t the person behind the crimes, who was?
The day passed quickly. Bethany skipped lunch; she wasn’t hungry, even though she’d eaten very little breakfast. She snacked on a candy bar in the afternoon and drank a sugar and caffeine-laden soda when her stomach started growling loud enough to draw looks from customers. Suddenly, she was hungry and couldn’t wait for quitting time.
She looked up from waiting on Marge to see Aaron standing by the front door, twirling the truck keys on his index finger. The clock showed five minutes to closing, but with the departure of Marge, the store was empty. She looked over at Norman.
“Do you mind if I leave?” she asked. “I hate to keep Aaron waiting. I told Roger not to send anyone until five-thirty, but he must not have heard,” she apologized.
“If I know Roger, he heard; he just didn’t want to listen.” Norman smiled at her. He was thinking that if he weren’t married and was ten years younger, Roger wouldn’t have a clear field to this one. He really liked her and wanted her safe as much as Roger did. “Go on. But tomorrow, you get to close and I’ll head to the Bazaar while you clean up.” He laughed.
“Thanks, Norman.” Bethany waved at him as she grabbed her purse from under the counter and walked over to Aaron.
“Hi. You’re early.” Her voice held mild criticism. “I told Roger not until five-thirty, but Norman is being nice enough to let me off early.”
“Yes ma’am.” Aaron touched his hat to her in greeting. “The boss told me to wait for you and make certain everything was safe for you at closing. Sorry if it has caused you a problem. You can stay and finish up if you wish,” Aaron apologized to her.
“No, sorry. I didn’t mean to grump at you. I don’t mind getting off early, truth be told. I’m starving and dead on my feet.” She smiled at the medium-built, well-muscled cowboy as they started for the ranch pickup.