a clear view of the bed.
The man’s face was a study in shock when he saw the expression on Cy Parks’s dark face and the glitter in his eyes. Bill Mason, Luke Craig’s erstwhile cowboy-on-loan, was lying on the bed in his shorts with a beer bottle in one hand. When Cy burst in the door, he sat up starkly, his bloodshot eyes blinking as he swayed. He was just drunk enough not to realize how much trouble he was in.
“You’re not Mrs. Monroe,” he drawled loudly.
“And you’re not Mr. Monroe. If you want to see daylight again, get the hell out of that bed and put your clothes on!”
“Okay. I mean yes, sir, Mr. Parks!”
The man tripped and fell, the beer bottle shattering on the floor as he sprawled nearby. “I broked it,” he moaned as he dragged himself up holding onto the bedpost, “and it was my…my last one!”
“God help us! Hurry up!”
“Okay. Just let me find…my pants…” He hiccuped, tripped again and fell, moaning. “They must be here somewhere!”
Muttering darkly, Cy uncocked the pistol, put the safety on, and stuck it into the belt at his back. He went to find Lisa, who was standing impatiently on the porch.
“I saved you a shock,” he told her.
“How big a shock?”
“The great unwashed would-be lover who was waiting for you, in your bed,” he said, trying not to grin. It wasn’t really funny.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not again,” she groaned.
“Again?”
She was made very uncomfortable by the look on his face. “Don’t even think it!” she threatened angrily. “I’m not that desperate for a man, thank you very much. He gets drunk one night a week and sleeps it off in Walt’s bed,” she muttered, oblivious to both her phrasing and his surprised look. “I lock him in, so he can’t cause me any trouble, and I let him out the next morning. He’s got a drinking problem, but he won’t get help.”
“Does Luke Craig know that?”
“If he did, he’d fire him, and the poor man has no place to go,” she began.
“He’ll have a place to go tomorrow,” he promised her with barely contained fury. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t know you,” she pointed out. “And Luke meant it as a kind gesture.”
“Luke would eat him with barbecue sauce if he knew what he was doing over here!”
There was a muffled thud and then the tipsy man weaved toward the front door. “So sorry, Mrs. Monroe,” Mason drawled, sweeping off his hat and almost going down with it as he bowed. “Very sorry. I’ll be off, now.” He hesitated at the top step with one foot in the air. “Where’s my horse?” he asked blankly. “I left him out here somewhere.”
“I’ll send him to you. Go back to Craig’s ranch.”
“It’s two miles!” the cowboy wailed. “I’ll never make it!”
“Yes, you will. Get in the truck. And if you throw up in it, I’ll shoot you!” Cy promised.
The cowboy didn’t even question the threat. He tried to salute and almost fell down again. “Yes, sir, I’ll get…get right in the truck, yes, sir, right now!”
He weaved to the passenger side, opened the door and pulled himself in, slamming the door behind him.
“I’d sleep on the sofa,” Cy advised Lisa. “Until you can wash the sheets, at least.”
“His girlfriend must be nuts. No woman in her right mind would sleep with him,” she murmured darkly.
“I can see why. I’ll send a man over to the bunkhouse. And he won’t get drunk and wait for you in bed,” he added.
She chuckled. “That would be appreciated.” She hesitated. “Thanks for the ride home, Mr. Parks.”
He hesitated, his narrow green eyes appraising her. She’d taken her husband’s death pretty hard, and she had dark circles under those eyes. He hated leaving her alone. He had protective feelings for her that really disturbed him.
“I’ll want to meet that pup when I come back again.”
She managed a smile. “Okay.”
“Go in and lock the door,” he instructed.
She clutched her heating pad and her purse to her chest and glared at him, but he stared her down. Oh, well, she thought as she went inside, some men just didn’t know the meaning of diplomacy. She’d have to make allowances for that little character flaw.
He waited until she got inside and locked the door before he climbed into his truck. He wondered why she’d said Walt’s bed and not their bed. The question diverted him as he drove the intoxicated but quiet cowboy over to Luke Craig’s house and showed him to Luke. The blond rancher cursed roundly, having closed the door so that his new wife, Belinda, wouldn’t overhear.
“I’m very drunk,” the cowboy said with a lopsided grin, swaying on the porch.
“He was stripped to his shorts, waiting for Lisa in her bed,” Cy said, and he didn’t grin. “I don’t want this man sent over there again.”
“He won’t be. Good God, he’s hidden it well, hasn’t he?”
“I’m very drunk,” the cowboy repeated, and the grin widened.
“Shut up,” Cy told him. He turned back to Luke. “I’m sending one of my own men over to sleep in the bunkhouse. Can you handle him?”
“I’m veerrryy drunk,” the cowboy interjected.
“Shut up!” chorused the two men.
Belinda Jessup Craig opened the front door and peered out at the tableau. “He’s very drunk,” she pointed out, and wondered why they looked so belligerent. “You’d better bring him inside, Luke. We can sober him up in the kitchen. You can’t leave him stumbling around like that. I’ll phone the Master’s Inn and see if they’ve got room for him.” She glanced at Cy’s puzzled expression. “It’s a halfway house for alcoholics. They offer treatment and continued support.”
“She wants to save the world,” Luke muttered, but he grinned at her.
“And he wants to control it,” she shot back with a wink. “Care to come in for coffee, Mr. Parks?”
“No, thanks,” he replied. “I have to get home.”
“I’m sorry about the trouble,” Luke said.
“Your heart was in the right place. She’s special,” he added in spite of himself.
Luke smiled slowly. “Yes. She is.”
Cy cleared his throat. “Good night.”
“Good night,” Luke answered.
“Good night!” the cowboy echoed before Luke propelled him firmly into the house.
Cy took his medicine and had the first good night’s sleep he’d enjoyed in days. He’d sent a capable, older cowboy over to Lisa’s ranch the night before to sleep in the bunkhouse and keep an eye on things. He’d also arranged covertly for sensitive listening equipment to be placed around her house, and for a man to monitor it full-time. He might be overly cautious, but he wasn’t taking chances with a pregnant woman. He knew Manuel Lopez’s thirst for revenge far too well. The drug lord had a nasty habit of targeting the families of people who opposed him. And Lopez might not know Lisa was pregnant. Cy wasn’t willing to risk leaving