many staff members work here?” Jack asked, as the horses stepped slowly on the packed dirt roadway.
“I’ve got seven wranglers, and they stay there, at the old railroad station—” she pointed at a converted, single-story structure “—with the kitchen crew, which is another three.”
“That doesn’t include Tanya, right?” He shot her a sharp, assessing look and pulled in a fidgeting Pokey. The belt buckle tattoo she’d spied earlier caught her eye.
“Right.” Her throat dried as she imagined what he thought—or conjectured, given Tanya’s relationship with Smiley. “She pays rent to stay in her own cabin. Over that hill.”
He turned his head and squinted at the distant building on the edge of the Pike National Forest.
“A couple of the groundskeepers lodge with the wranglers, as well, but a couple commute,” she hurried on, not wanting him to dwell on kindhearted Tanya, her best friend on the ranch. “As for the cleaning staff, they mostly live off site except Nan, who’s been with the Mays forever as a kitchen and housekeeping supervisor. I believe she’s mostly retired, though don’t tell her that. If you’re lucky, she’ll make her green chili stew while you’re here.”
“Till I catch Smiley.”
“He’s not guilty.” Her hand tightened on the reins when Jack didn’t respond. “He’s not that type.” A defensive note entered her voice.
It irked her when people got labeled for something they didn’t do. The sooner he found Smiley and cleared up this mess, the better. She needed Jack off this property ASAP.
“So these are all guest cabins?” Jack asked, smoothly changing the subject. The horses’ hooves splashed through a puddle left over from an early morning rainstorm. A woman with a mop and bucket emerged from a large stone structure. Behind her rose Mount Logan, its pine-covered incline cut through with a brown switchback trail.
“Some. They’re scattered on the property. That one’s Stonehenge. It’s our biggest. The one farther down with the balcony is the Homestead. We can have up to fifty guests a week when we’re full, and most of the season’s booked solid.”
Pride filled her, temporarily washing away her angst over Jack and the very real danger he represented. As the newly promoted stable manager, she’d worked hard over the winter to ensure their usual bookings returned and to attract new customers with her updated website.
This season was supposed to be perfect—a corner turned from her troubled past—and then the bounty hunter appeared. “You’ll stay with the wranglers.”
“I’ll find my own spot.”
At her surprised intake of breath, Storm’s ears flicked backward and her gait picked up as they entered the orientation trail used on day one of the guests’ arrival. “And where’s that?”
“Don’t know yet. I’ll be on the lookout.”
“All my wranglers bunk down together.”
He tugged at his shirt collar, creases appearing in the corners of his eyes. The strengthening sun beat down from the vast arc of blue overhead and a trickle of wet pooled at the base of her neck. “I’m not part of your crew.”
“You are while you’re undercover. Guess that makes me your boss.” She enjoyed the extra white that appeared around his dark eyes a little too much. “Do you mind having a lady in charge?”
“Got a problem with anyone telling me what to do. Look, boss, we need to get one thing straight. I only take orders from one person—myself.” He held the reins loosely in his left hand, his body swaying along with Pokey, his ease in the saddle evident.
She opened her mouth to mention he’d have to hide his tattoo as part of the dress code but decided to put off that argument for another day. Hopefully he’d locate Smiley quickly and leave before their first guests arrived. She’d do everything she could to facilitate those events, though strangely, another part of her felt let down at the thought.
Her mama had always said she attracted trouble like a fiddler attracted square dancing. And her mother had never been wrong. A long sigh escaped her.
There was the time she’d lost a school year’s worth of playground privileges for taking Frankie Joe’s dare to walk on top of the monkey bars. Another was when the church youth group leader had personally brought her home after Dani brawled with an older boy who’d called her “chicken legs” the first time her mother had gotten her to wear a dress.
She’d been a ponytail-wearing, makeup-avoiding, bruise-and-scrape-covered, bone-breaking horse fanatic who’d surprised everyone by cleaning up good once in a blue moon...and those only happened every other year.
How her mama had despaired of her. If only she could see Dani now. She still wore her hair back and didn’t so much as own a tube of mascara, but she’d walked straight since her huge mistake years ago. Would this brush with the law yank her back to that time? Undo all of her hard work to steady her life?
They rode along the sloping path, following a trail that came up the back of a bluff, through a clump of aspens with white trunks and green fluttering leaves, and led across a level patch of lush grass and wildflowers to the rocky edge.
She dismounted. Storm, used to being petted, rubbed her sleek, silver head against Dani’s arm then dropped her head to graze. “If you’re not leading groups out on horseback, taking them down the Arkansas rapids, fly fishing, zip-lining—”
“Zip-lining?” he interrupted, his tone incredulous, as he eased off Pokey and joined her at the ledge.
“Oh, you’ll love it.” Her voice rose as she warmed to the thought of the Goliath dangling from a line and speeding over treetops. “Nothing but you, a harness and pine trees. We have the longest and fastest zip lines in Colorado. Six in total, from 850 to 1,900 feet. Right out there.” She pointed to the high peaks rising across the valley that comprised this section of the Continental Divide.
He stared at the steep inclines then back down to the flat, muddy water of the South Platt River below. “Thanks for the invite. I’ll pass.”
“If you don’t fit in with the rest, they’ll question it. You don’t want to alert anyone, do you?”
A hawk wheeled overhead in lazy circles. “I don’t think there’s much chance of me fitting in, is there?”
“Why not?” she insisted. When she turned to look at him, he was disturbingly close, her senses alive to the brush of his shoulder against hers.
He gazed out at the valley. “You know what I look like.”
It wasn’t a question—just a statement of fact with a hint of resignation at the edges. It made her soften toward him.
“Lots of people have, uh, scars,” she floundered, trying to find a polite way to describe the deep ridge that looked bad enough to have gone bone deep. “It adds character. Makes you interesting. The guests will want to know about you.”
A humorless laugh escaped him. “A character? Interesting? Well. That’s something. Consider me your newest attraction.” He grabbed Pokey’s reins and mounted in a move so agile it aroused her deep, feminine appreciation. There was something about a man who rode well.
She watched as he and Pokey disappeared around a bend.
Her next attraction indeed...
JACK RODE ALONG the trail, alert for signs of Smiley and possibly a partner passing through. Another horse trotted up behind him and he found himself smiling. Dani Crawford.
He had to give it to her, she didn’t intimidate easy and he liked that. Too much. Although he shouldn’t make a lot out of the way she dismissed his scar. She hadn’t looked