bulldog.”
Gabby squealed with delight.
Carl hefted a big black duffel bag out of the back of the SUV and carried it to the smaller house across the driveway.
“You’re both invited over for some meat loaf. It’s Jackie’s favorite,” Penny said.
“Come on, sweetie. Let’s go wash up.” Wyatt took Gabby by the hand and watched Penny lead her niece to the small house across the drive from the main house. Spencer trotted along behind them, leaving paw prints in the powdered snow.
As Wyatt led Gabby inside, she said, “I want a Spencer.”
He wasn’t surprised. He had a feeling there were many changes coming thanks to a certain blond guest.
And he wasn’t sure they were all going to be good.
He took one last glance out at the snowy night before closing the door and prayed that tomorrow would be a better day. With no dead bodies.
* * *
The next morning Jackie was up and out for a recon run by 6:00 am. The blizzard had calmed, and the morning sun gleamed on a fresh layer of snow. Thankfully, she’d heard enough about Wyoming winters from her aunt and uncle that she’d packed appropriate clothing for a winter run.
Unfamiliar with the terrain, she’d opted to stay on the dirt road she’d driven last night. Though a good two inches of new powder covered the road, she didn’t have any trouble discerning the path.
The magnificent landscape reminded her of a painting. The dark had hidden the blanket of white stretching out as far as the eye could see, broken only by the occasional copse of trees or outcropping of rocks. Off in the distance, majestic mountains rose like fingers pointing skyward, as if to remind her to look toward heaven.
Her breath puffed out in a small cloud in the frigid air. “Lord, thank You for the beauty all around me. Thank You for Your protection every day. Lord, I ask for Your guidance.”
Because she didn’t know what to make of Wyatt or the situation. Someone tried to frame him for murder, but they’d done a sloppy job, which led her to believe it wasn’t a very thought-out plan. Whoever was behind this wasn’t organized and didn’t really know what they were doing.
Was this some sort of personal vendetta against Wyatt? Or more of a spur-of-the-moment attempt by the killer to camouflage his identity? Was it someone on the ranch? Or could Wyatt have killed George and tried to make it look like a setup?
So many questions, but she had two weeks to figure it out. And she would. For her aunt and uncle. For that cute little freckled girl. And for the brooding, albeit handsome, rancher who seemed to carry the weight of the world on his wide shoulders.
When she’d left the house, she’d seen a couple of men already up and working in the barn and a few more in the big equipment shed. She’d taken a cursory look around. Asked a few questions of the hands. None had anything of use to tell her. None owned a motorcycle or knew of anyone who’d have been out the night before.
She’d asked Uncle Carl last night if he knew of anyone who owned a motorbike, but he didn’t. She hadn’t told them about the bike following them. She didn’t want them to worry any more than they already were. She doubted anyone had slept well. She hadn’t, which was another reason she’d needed the run. To clear the cobwebs from her brain.
At the four-mile mark on her pedometer, she turned around, heading back toward the ranch house. A shadow overhead grabbed her attention. She slowed her pace to watch a low-flying prop plane. She kept her eyes on the plane, noting that the aircraft flew in a grid pattern over the land. Back and forth, back and forth. She’d heard of cattle ranchers surveying their herds via the air. Maybe Wyatt had someone keeping watch over his cattle and horses from above.
She returned to the house to find Aunt Penny up and dressed. Spencer was waiting at the door. He sniffed her feet before losing interest and disappearing around the corner of the living room.
“You’re up early,” Penny said. “Would you like coffee?”
“Please.”
“Do you run every day?”
“Most days.” She sipped from the blue-and-white ceramic mug of steaming coffee Penny handed to her. “So what’s the story with Wyatt and the sheriff? Uncle Carl said there’s bad blood between them.”
Penny pressed her lips together to form a tight line. “Sheriff Landers is Wyatt’s stepfather.”
“Ah.” That explained why the sheriff had been both antagonistic yet reasonable. He could have easily pushed to keep Wyatt locked up until morning at least—or longer if he’d wanted to be a real pain. But he hadn’t. Because of their family connection, no doubt. Though she’d sensed tension between them.
“Where is Wyatt’s dad?”
“He passed on a decade ago.”
A knock sounded at the kitchen door. Penny set her coffee in the sink before moving to answer the knock. Gabby and Wyatt stood on the threshold, bundled up for the walk across the driveway.
Gabby entered with an abundance of exuberance to see Spencer. “Here, doggy, doggy. Spencer.” She disappeared into the living room with Penny hot on her heels.
Wyatt gave Jackie an apologetic smile. “Hope you don’t mind. She was dying to come see your dog.”
“Not at all. Spencer will love the attention.” She set her mug on the counter. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“No, I’ve already had two cups.” He eyed her running gear. “Exercising?”
“Running helps get me going in the morning.”
“You came prepared.”
“I did.” She remembered what she’d seen on her run. “Do you have a plane surveying your cattle and horses?”
A scowl darkened his gaze. “No. But I know the one you’re talking about. The white plane with the blue stripe. I’ve seen it occasionally. More so lately. Flies pretty low.”
“That’s it. If he’s not flying on your behalf, I wonder what he’s doing.”
“Beats me. I can’t control the airspace over the ranch.”
“Worth checking on. There’s gotta be some federal regulations about low-flying aircraft,” she commented.
He shrugged. “Could be. I’ll check into it. I’ve got work to do. Ranch won’t run itself.” With that, he tipped his hat and then headed toward the kitchen door.
“Wyatt.”
He paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Yes?”
“Be careful. Make sure you’re always with someone. Or two or three someones.”
One dark eyebrow rose. “I can take care of myself.”
Her mouth quirked. His ego was a bit touchy. She’d have to remember that. “I’m sure you can. But you don’t want to leave yourself open to another frame job. Or, worst-case scenario, leave Gabby on her own.”
Her meaning dawned in his dark eyes. “Right.” He tipped his hat and walked out.
Every instinct told her to get up and follow him. As a bodyguard, her first priority was always to keep the protectee within reach. But he wasn’t her protectee. He wasn’t her client.
She’d come here with the promise to her aunt and uncle that she’d keep an eye on the investigation into who killed George Herman. Though thinking about who they were and why they’d tried to frame Wyatt for the murder burned in her veins like molten lava.
Her dormant investigative skills clamored to be put to work. They were skills she hadn’t had to use often since leaving the Atkins County sheriff’s department and going to work for Trent Associates