wished Dan had been a little more specific. Other than mentioning that he could use his help and hoping to see him at the ranch soon, Dan hadn’t indicated what kind of assistance he wanted or needed.
Rafe felt badly that his mail hadn’t caught up with him right away. The postmark showed the letter had been mailed five weeks ago. For all Rafe knew, he could be too late with whatever help he was supposed to be offering.
He’d tried to call Dan as soon as he got the letter, but there had been no answer, no answering machine and no way of knowing whether Dan was working somewhere on the ranch or actually gone.
Rafe had seen no other choice but to head back to the states. He had no idea whether or not his showing up at the C Bar C Ranch would accomplish anything positive.
He could think of a hell of a lot of negatives that could occur.
For one thing, he’d been warned by old man Crenshaw never to step foot on his ranch again. Of course, Dan’s father had been dead for the past five years, so he supposed he could ignore that particular threat.
So, here he was, landing in Austin at ten o’clock on a hot and muggy July night, rushing to the rescue like some damned knight.
If he weren’t so blasted exhausted, he’d laugh at the picture that came to mind. His armor was rusty and dented, his steed gone long ago and his lance had been smashed to smithereens. But he was there.
Once on the ground, Rafe grabbed his bag and picked up the rental car he’d reserved. Within the hour he was headed west out of town, following road signs on thoroughfares that hadn’t existed when he’d lived in the area.
The ranch was located about thirty miles southwest of the state’s capital in the rough and rugged hill country of Central Texas. As he drove, he was amazed to see how much expansion had taken place as civilization moved westward to claim ranch country. He noticed a Polo Club on the way, for God’s sake. Polo? In Texas?
He shook his head in amusement. The times, they were definitely a-changing.
When he finally pulled up at the entrance to the ranch a while later, Rafe was more than ready to find a bed and crash for a few hours. Whatever the reason for his summons, he had a hunch it could be postponed for at least long enough for him to get some rest.
He got out of the car to open the gate and found it was padlocked. There was a large sign on the gate:
Private Property
No Trespassing
The sign and padlock were new. In the past, the combination lock had been easily opened if you knew the birthdays of Dan and Mandy, his sister.
Amanda Crenshaw. Rafe hadn’t thought about her in years. She’d been fifteen the last time he’d seen her—a gangly, coltish girl with russet colored curls and an infectious smile. He had a hunch she would have as little use for him as her father had...with more reason.
Dan mentioned once that Mandy lived in Dallas, which was just as well. It would be much better for all concerned if they didn’t run into each other while he was in Texas.
He studied the sign and the lock, then glanced at his watch. It was close to midnight. He could either sleep in the car and go on foot to the house in the morning, or he could make that multi-mile hike now.
Neither option particularly appealed to him.
Oh, what the hell. He returned to the car and grabbed his bag—thank God he traveled light—locked the car and climbed the fence.
He knew he was taking a chance going on the property at this time of night. In this part of the world trespassers could get shot before they had a chance to explain their presence on the premises.
If Dan wanted to shoot him he’d have to spot him first.
Rafe smiled to himself at the thought of putting into practice the training he was paid to teach in Eastern Europe. He’d see just how good he really was.
By the time he reached the ranch buildings, Rafe had slipped by two armed guards. What in the hell was going on? Rafe was beginning to get a bad feeling about all of this...a really bad feeling.
Yard lights surrounded the house. There was no way to approach it without being seen.
The house was a single story, Texas-traditional style home. Made of limestone, it had a tin roof that seemed to stretch over several acres. A long, covered porch graced the back of the place. Rafe knew the interior well, unless the family had done major renovations. Mexican tile covered the floor in most of the rooms except for the bedroom wing. A luxurious, deep-piled carpet covered the bedrooms, baths and hallway.
He recalled his youthful dreams of one day having a similar home and a loving family. Rafe was amused by those boyhood dreams, now, but they had served him well at the time, getting him through the bad patches when he was growing up.
Well, standing there admiring the place wasn’t getting him any closer.
The area around the house looked free of guards but he wasn’t taking any chances. He stashed his bag in some brush and began the intricate and laborious approach that would keep him from getting spotted and shot. By the time he reached the comparative shadowy area on the back porch he was royally pissed off. Mostly at himself. Why hadn’t he just called and had Dan pick him up at the airport? That would have circumvented the necessity for all this sneaking around.
Suddenly all hell seemed to break loose inside the house. A large-sounding dog began a barking spree that was guaranteed to wake the dead. Rafe leaned against the wall next to the kitchen door and waited for Dan to check on why his watchdog had suddenly gone ballistic.
Amanda Crenshaw bolted out of bed as soon as Ranger started barking. Someone was out there. He didn’t bark at animals. He was a trained watchdog who was now making it clear there was an intruder on the premises.
She peered out the window of her bedroom. The canine alarm should have some of the men coming to check on her soon. In the meantime, she slipped on her robe and shoes and silently made her way down the long hallway to the main part of the house.
Ranger was at the kitchen door, barking loudly. She heard a low, male voice talking in a soothing tone to him. She froze, her mind unable to accept what her heart had immediately recognized. She knew that voice. It was a voice she hadn’t heard in years, one she’d never expected to hear again.
With something like panic, Mandy peered through the glass of the back door as she turned on the kitchen light.
A tall, lean man stepped away from the side of the house when he saw her at the door. The illumination from the kitchen revealed him to her slowly, as though her senses would go into overload if she were presented with his entire presence at once.
“Rafe,” she whispered to herself, trying to come to grips with his unexpected presence. She cleared her throat. “Ranger, that’s enough!” she said firmly. The dog stopped barking, but continued to growl. She opened the door and motioned for Rafe to come inside. Her heart felt as though it was going to jump out of her chest.
As he moved into the light she saw his boots first—work—ing boots that should have been retired years before. The light moved up his frame, slowly revealing him to her. Faded denim jeans lovingly clung to his long, muscular legs and emphasized his masculinity. A faded denim shirt that looked strained across his broad chest was open at the neck to reveal a strong column of dark skin at the throat. She saw a well-defined jawline bristling with a couple of days’ growth of beard.
He definitely needed a haircut, she thought, noticing how his dark hair fell across his forehead to his brows. The last to be revealed as he stepped past her into the house was the expression in his black eyes.
She shivered. “What are you doing here?”
A glint of white showed when his lips turned up in a half smile. “I didn’t intend to frighten you. I’m looking for Dan.”
“Dan?”
“Yeah.