Hap had spotted the smoke right away and the fire was put out before much damage was done. But the way these attacks were escalating, it was only a matter of time before someone got seriously hurt.
Cade’s foreman, Hap Ramirez, had wanted to call the sheriff in the beginning, right after the fences were cut and several girths were slit. Cade had found himself reluctant to send the law after his brother-in-law because of his age. But now, it looked like the kid was going to give him no choice in the matter.
This was a busy time on a working ranch. A time when a man didn’t need to be out hunting some fool kid hell-bent on a vendetta to avenge a cussed woman who hadn’t been worth it in the first place. With a sigh, Cade turned on the radio to drown out his thoughts.
He decided in town not to go straight back to the main house. The way things were going it had occurred to him that it might be a good idea to pick up some extra supplies and take them out to the old line shack. A backup location might come in handy in case the kid decided to torch the house next. Cade and his men couldn’t be everywhere at once. The Circle M was a large spread in the middle of nowhere. Normally, that suited Cade just fine.
He debated about calling Hap on the radio and letting him know about the change in plans, but the dour older man already had his hands full right now, especially since he was down three men with Cade gone, too. They needed to get the rest of the strays rounded up and the herd moved this week. Of course, Hap could run the Circle M by himself after all these years. He’d been foreman for Cade’s grandfather since forever. It had come as a shock to all of them when the old man succumbed to a bout of influenza and died unexpectedly last year.
Known for being a crusty old curmudgeon, Otis Mc-Govern had nevertheless taken in his only grandchild after the deaths of Cade’s own parents. Unfortunately, not before Cade had spent several years being shuffled from one foster home to another. Otis and his son hadn’t spoken in years, so it was some time before Otis learned what had transpired.
By the time Otis convinced authorities to let him have guardianship, Cade had a chip on his shoulder big enough to be visible a mile away. Otis ignored the chip. Being a cowboy from the old school, and a loner himself who liked it that way, he took Cade’s chip to be a matter of course. He took in his bewildered, angry grandson and taught him the only skill he knew. Ranching.
The two of them had butted heads like a pair of bulls after a rodeo clown. Neither knew how to back down. Yet somewhere along the line, Cade came to realize that he loved ranching and the land as much as his grandfather did. Still, as big as the ranch was, there could only be one person in charge. Cade finally walked out after a heated argument over some breeding stock and headed for the rodeo circuit. He’d been determined to win himself a stake that would let him buy a place of his own up in Colorado. He hadn’t wanted anything half as ambitious as the Circle M, just a small spread he could run himself.
Oddly enough, that pleased his grandfather. On Cade’s infrequent visits home, they got on better than they ever had when they’d lived together.
Cade let his thoughts roam the past until the line shack finally came into view. For a moment, he sat in his truck just drinking in the rugged beauty of the landscape. Jagged cliffs formed a backdrop for the shack. They fed the stream that ran to a small pond down below. The Circle M boasted some fabulous grazing land as well as several thick draws that were a haven for deer and other wildlife. The peace of this land never failed to move him. Several times Cade had thought this particular spot would have made a better location for the main house than the one his grandfather had selected all those years ago.
Maybe he’d unload everything and spend the night here. The idea had definite appeal. He must have had some subconscious thoughts along this line because he’d thrown his gear into the truck before he headed into town.
Cade pulled around in a semicircle in front of the shack to facilitate unloading. He turned off the engine, swung down from the cab, and settled his hat back on his head, low over his eyes. He tossed the mutilated toothpick into a thicket of brush and started to undo the tarp. A small mewing sound of distress made him pause. A kitten? What would a kitten be doing way out here? He looked around, hoping he hadn’t hit some animal when he pulled in.
Nothing moved anywhere nearby. Cade cocked his head, listening closely. The sound seemed to be coming from inside the bed of his truck.
He hurriedly unlashed the tarp and started pulling it back. Blood stained the nearest sack. Some poor little critter had obviously hurt itself and climbed in the back of his truck to nurse its wounds. And from the trail of bloodstains, the wound was probably going to prove fatal on a small animal. With a new sense of urgency, he yanked back the tarp, snagging it on something. Cade barely noticed.
There was no kitten in the back of his truck. Instead, shock held him still when he revealed a woman’s dainty foot, half in and half out of a small, badly scuffed loafer. A length of shapely leg was also revealed due to a rucked-up pant leg. Several nasty scratches ran along that leg, but nothing serious enough to account for the blood on the feed sacks. He ignored the pounding of his heart, unhooked the snagged tarp and stripped it all the way back.
The body and the face that went with the leg were definitely worth a second look. But from the blood that had soaked one side of her sheer blouse, the woman could be dead already.
For a moment, cold panic swept him. Clutched protectively against her chest was a tiny infant, its red face screwed up in distress. Its tragic cries sounded a bit like a kitten in distress.
He reached over the woman to lift the infant. Cade had never in his life held a live human baby this small, though he’d helped bring plenty of animals into the world. This little guy couldn’t be more than a couple of days old at most, he guessed. He checked it over quickly, looking for the source of the blood. There was no outward sign of injury and based on the amount of blood, there would have been. The blood must have come from the mother.
Cade swore under his breath. The woman never moved.
Instantly, his mind pictured the jerk outside the feed store. The man had said he was worried about his wife. Cradling the crying infant in one arm, he studied the woman. More of a girl, really, with a long spill of blond hair that partly covered her face. She didn’t move. With a sense of fatality, he reached out to feel for a pulse.
She had one! A fairly steady one at that. She was still very much alive.
One hand holding the baby, he gently, carefully, rolled the woman on her back to look for the source of the blood. Under her blouse something bulky lay against her shoulder. He worked the top two buttons of her blouse free and pulled out one of the baby’s disposable diapers.
“I’m afraid she may do something foolish and hurt herself,” the man had said. But Cade knew a bullet wound when he saw one. The bullet had chewed a path right across the top of her shoulder, tearing away the material of her blouse.
He couldn’t think of a single person who’d ever tried to commit suicide by shooting himself there. He examined the ugly raw wound. Unless he missed his guess, she’d been shot from the back, not the front.
Even if he was mistaken, an accidental shooting victim wouldn’t climb in the back of a stranger’s truck to hide. The bastard had shot her!
Cade growled, torn by conflicting emotions. On the one hand, he could understand all too well the anger a woman could raise in a man. On the other, there was no valid excuse for violence against a woman. Especially one who had to be half the bastard’s size—and age, judging by appearances. How could the bastard shoot her when there was an innocent little baby involved?
Cade muttered a curse. The last thing he wanted was to become embroiled in someone’s domestic problems. The woman had left him no choice. He’d become involved the moment she’d climbed into the back of his pickup truck and sought refuge.
He’d lose hours turning the truck around and taking her back to Darwin Crossing. Besides, it was a trip she might or might not survive, given her condition. When he thought of the jolting ride she must have endured back here under the hot tarp, he winced. No wonder she was unconscious.
The