Wyoming Brave Read online

  “You bet!”

  “Call me again soon.”

  “I promise I will,” she said. “Hug Mandy and Paul for me. I love you.”

  “I love you, too, baby. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  She hung up. She missed her sister. It had been hardest being separated from Sari, because they’d always been together. She still worried about using her credit card. She hoped the contract killer wasn’t monitoring it. From what Paul had let slip about the man, she knew that he was meticulous. He’d find out everything he could about her, about her habits, before he struck. He’d plan it like a battle campaign.

  She’d never thought that she’d be a target, even when she knew what her father was really doing to make money. She hadn’t thought that anyone would come after her, or Sari, because of their father. She no longer had those illusions. Timmy Leeds had wanted to kill both women to hurt Darwin Grayling. But he hadn’t known that Darwin was already dead by the time he hired contract killers. Or that he thought his daughters were worthless, good only for getting more money when he married them to millionaires.

  It was a good thing that they’d captured Morris so quickly. He was hired for Sari, and now he was behind bars. But Leeds got someone very special for Merrie, because she was the youngest and he thought it would hurt her father more to lose her.

  Little had he known that Darwin Grayling didn’t care for his daughters. He kept them chaste because he could sell them to the highest bidder to marry that way. It pained her to recall that Darwin had tried to make Sari fly to the Middle East to marry a prince who would finance Darwin’s defense against money laundering charges and murder. Their father had never wanted them. He’d only planned to use them to get richer.

  She would never understand why money was so important to some people. It was nice to have a little spending money, and to be able to pay bills. But other than that, what use was it? You surely couldn’t take it with you when you died.

  That brought back to mind how much she was really worth. She hadn’t told Ren, and she knew that Randall hadn’t. Ren thought she was poor. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her clothing. He probably thought she was a gold digger. He might even think she’d set her cap for him.

  That was worrying. She knew that Angie had been Randall’s girl, but she’d gone after Ren when she realized that he was richer than his brother. Delsey had hinted that Ren amused himself with Randall’s women who came to stay at the ranch. They were mostly sophisticated and worldly, and didn’t mind becoming a diversion for the reclusive rancher.

  But Merrie wasn’t like that. She knew nothing about men. Would Ren know that? Or would he deem her as fair game because he thought she was Randall’s woman?

  Surely he realized that she didn’t know much about men. Or did he? Well, she told herself firmly, if he ever made a real pass at her, the truth would reveal itself.

  * * *

  REN TOOK HER out with him the next day, over to where men were fixing a big break in the fence that faced the highway. It was still snowing, but not as much as the day she’d gotten lost.

  He crossed his arms over his saddle horn and smiled at her. “We have fences down a lot. Trees fall on them.” He indicated a large tree limb that had broken off a towering pine and was lying across the broken fence. “Sometimes cattle break through them, if they’re spooked. Other times, we have accidents with heavy equipment.”

  “Accidents?”

  He pulled his hat lower over his eyes. “Tubbs is a disaster on a Bobcat,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Great at wrangling horses. Driving equipment not so much. He ran a Bobcat right through a fence and took the poles on both sides with him.”

  She smothered a laugh. “Oh, dear.”

  “So we spent the morning fixing the fence. And the Bobcat,” he added. “He took the fence with him right into a lagoon.” He made a terrible face. “The men set records for new cusswords that day.”

  “You have a lagoon here?” she asked, wide-eyed. “Like the ones in the movies, with palm trees...” Her voice slowed as he stared at her.

  “Lagoons,” he emphasized. “They’re full of cattle waste. Liquid fertilizer,” he clarified.

  Her lips fell apart. “And Tubbs drove a bobcat into one? The poor animal!”

  “Animal?”

  “Yes. You said it was a bobcat,” she faltered.

  He rolled his eyes. “Eastern tenderfoot,” he mused. “A Bobcat is a piece of heavy equipment. We use it to dig ditches and push down trees, things like that.”

  “Oh, gosh,” she ground out. “I guess I don’t know much about ranches.”

  “But you live on one,” he pointed out.

  “Yes, but we were never allowed outside when the men were working. Just to go riding, and Paul had to go with us. We were kept clear of anything that involved the horses. We had to sneak around even to see them in the stables!”

  He thought that her father was paranoid. But didn’t say it.

  She glanced at his expression. “I always loved horses,” she confessed. “The trainer was so kind. When Daddy wasn’t around, he’d let Sari and me play with the colts. They were so sweet. So were the mares. But the stallions...gosh, they made Hurricane look tame.”

  “Quarter horse breeding stock?” he asked.

  She hesitated for a second. “Well, yes.”

  “We breed quarter horses, too, and train them. Well, Tubbs trains most of them. He has two cowboys who help him.”

  “Is that why you have so many round corrals?”

  “Yes. I don’t like corners,” he said with a chuckle.

  “Why?”

  “A rider who’s inexperienced can get himself attacked if he backs a horse into a corner and doesn’t give him an escape route,” he explained. “We had a man bitten just last week for trying to box one of the horses up to catch him.” He shook his head. “He decided that cowboying was a lot harder than it looked, and said he was going back to driving a truck.”

  She laughed softly. “All our corrals had corners,” she said. “But our trainer was awesome. He was never kicked or bitten, even by the stallions. He had this incredible patience with the animals,” she added softly. “He said you never taught a horse anything by hitting him or whipping him or using spurs on him.”

  “He’s right. We use gentle methods on all our horses.” His face hardened. “Except Hurricane. I should have hit that man harder before I fired him.”

  “He’s healing, though,” she said. “And now the vet can get in with him and I don’t have to run interference for her.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  She flushed. “Well, I did sneak out there a couple of times, just to see how he was doing. Nobody knew,” she added quickly, to protect Grandy, who’d let her in.

  He gave her a sardonic look. “Grandy knew, Meredith,” he said in his deep, soft voice.

  She grimaced, although her heart jumped to hear him speak her full name in that deep, soft tone.

  “It’s all right,” he said with a resigned sigh. “We’ve already agreed that trying to rein in artists is like trying to herd cats. Just be careful,” he added. “Any animal can be dangerous. Especially horses. They can be spooked by the oddest things. A paper rattling. A plastic bag blowing past them. A loud sound.”

  “I know,” she replied. “We had a horse get loose from the trainer and come right inside the kitchen because a car backfired on the highway,” she added, laughing. “It was a good thing that he was just a colt. But Mandy had to have the kitchen refloored. We never told Daddy.” She repressed a shiver. “He’d have had the colt killed.”

  “What?” he exploded.

  She winced. “He had a violent temper. If a horse looked threatening, or if one came too close and he saw it as a threat...” She broke off and
wrapped herself closer in her coat, trying to break off the memories.

  “Your father had issues,” he said flatly.

  “Yes,” she replied sadly. “He was unbalanced, and we never knew. The autopsy revealed a lesion in his brain. The medical examiner said that his drug use was what finally killed him. His heart gave out.” She looked up at him. “Sari and I never even smoked marijuana, but our father was addicted to heroin. They said his habit cost him thousands of dollars a day. That’s one reason why he was doing...illegal things to get more money.”

  He drew in a long, irritated breath. “We don’t tolerate drug use here,” he said. “We hired on one cowboy with a habit and caught him in the act. He was offered the choice between rehab and jail. He went to rehab.”

  “What happened to him?”

  He smiled. “He turned into the best cattle foreman we ever had. Now he keeps an eye on the younger hires.”

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I’m not a bad man,” he said. He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. “You remember that.”

  “Okay.”

  His eyes were twinkling. So were hers. He looked up. “We’d best be getting on if I’m going to show you the line cabins.”

  “Okay!”

  He laughed at her enthusiasm. “Exciting new things to see and explore?” he teased.

  “Everything is new up here,” she said, following alongside him. “It’s so...vast,” she said finally, looking around. “Can you imagine how the mountain men felt when they saw the mountains and the endless valleys? Especially if they saw it in winter, with snow lying on it like a soft blanket.”

  “It’s beautiful,” he agreed. “People come out here to live so they can breathe. You can ride for miles and never see another person. Antelope and buffalo and moose come up to the outer pastures. Even bears, occasionally. It’s a hunter’s paradise.”

  “I’d hate to shoot anything,” she murmured.

  He chuckled. “That’s how I feel about it. We issue a few hunting leases, but only when the deer population outgrows the predators. I don’t mind a nice venison stew myself, but I’ve never killed just to be killing.”

  She approved. He had a hard exterior, but a soft center. The more she learned about him, she liked. The cold man of her first few days here had been eclipsed by this kind, interesting man who was working his way into her heart.

  * * *

  THE LINE CABINS were spaced out. Each was in an area where cattle were kept, so that someone was always watching, protecting, making sure the herds were healthy and out of danger. She learned that Ren had a livestock foreman and another man who just watched over the purebred bulls. There was a farrier, who shoed horses, another man who tamed horses for the remuda, one who kept all the horse trailers and cattle trailers in repair. The entire operation was a vast responsibility.

  “We had a heifer get her foot stuck in a fence once,” he said. “She would have frozen to death if Lucky, who stays in that cabin, hadn’t been around. Another went into labor and had to have her calf pulled. Still another was attacked by a wolf.”

  “What do you do about wolves?” she asked. “I’ve heard that you can’t kill them.”

  “We contact the USDA’s Wildlife Service. They take out wolves on behalf of Fish and Wildlife if there’s a proven need. But I try to live with them,” he replied. “They’re majestic, part of the realm of nature. We scare them off, if we can. If that doesn’t work, and we start losing a lot of our calf crop, we have to call the authorities.”

  “That’s sad.” She turned her attention skyward and gasped. “A raven!”

  He looked up. “Yes, we have them here all the time. They’re carrion feeders. They serve a purpose, like the wolves who keep down the rabbit population.”

  She glanced at him. “He’s just over there,” she pointed. “Could we go and see him?”

  He got lost in those soft gray eyes, so much so that he almost forgot what she’d asked.

  “Of course,” he said. “But he’ll fly away the minute we get close.”

  “That’s all right. I just want a closer look.”

  He turned his horse and led the way. The raven was sitting on a rock. He lifted his head and stared at them, and started to move.

  “Please don’t,” Merrie said softly. She got down off her horse and moved just a little closer. “Beautiful fellow,” she purred.

  The raven seemed equally fascinated with her. He hopped a step closer, then stood there looking at Merrie.

  She stopped when she was an arm’s length away, her artist’s eyes capturing every line and curve of him. “I’m going to paint you, pretty bird,” she told him, smiling. “You’re so majestic!”

  He made a raucous sound, ruffled his wings, and suddenly took to the air. He circled a couple of times before he flew off.

  “Well, that’s one for the books,” Ren said, riding closer. “I’ve never seen one let a person get that close.”

  “I love birds,” she said, remounting her horse. “I like to paint them. Although we don’t have ravens where I live. Just crows. But they’re very similar.”

  “They are.”

  “Will I ever get to meet the wolf?” she asked suddenly, remembering the one that was kept as a pet was in one of these line cabins with Ren’s foreman, Willis.

  He chuckled. “Okay. Come along.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE WOLF WAS named Snowpaw. He was big and silver and he had yellow eyes. But he was missing a leg.

  “Oh, the poor thing,” she said softly.

  Willis, the tall, rangy ranch foreman who owned him, just smiled sadly. “We had a neighbor who liked to set bear traps in the woods. Nasty, terrible things that can mangle an animal before it kills him, and they aren’t limited to bears. Anything can get caught in them. Snowpaw did. I pulled him out, but it was impossible to turn him loose. So I got a license as a wildlife rehabilitator from the wildlife folks and they let me keep him. In my spare time, I take him to schools to show children that wolves aren’t the vicious, mindless animals they’re sometimes portrayed as.”

  “He’s so beautiful,” she said gently, leaning forward in her chair.

  Snowpaw cocked his head and studied her for a minute. Then he got up and loped his way to her, laying his head in her lap.

  “You sweet boy,” she cooed, smoothing her fingers through the fur between his ears.

  Willis was gaping at her. So was Ren.

  “What?” she asked, still stroking the wolf.

  “My girlfriend came to visit and he sat in the corner and snarled at her the whole time,” Willis said. “He even growled at my mother!”

  “A raven just sat on a rock for her and let her look at him from an arm’s length away,” Ren said, with a faint pride in his tone as he smiled at her. “You already know about Hurricane.”

  She flushed. She hadn’t realized that her care of the beaten horse would have become known to the other cowboys.

  “We all know.” Willis chuckled. His dark eyes smiled at Merrie. “You’re a legend already, Miss Merrie.”

  She flushed even more. “I just love animals,” she faltered.

  “You should see the portrait she did of Hurricane,” Ren told him. “She’s one hell of an artist.”

  “Could you draw Snowpaw for me?” Willis asked, impressed. “Just a sketch. I’d pay you...”

  “I don’t charge for my work,” she said, smiling. “And I’d love to do it. He’s magnificent,” she added, rubbing her forehead over the wolf’s head.

  The wolf moved closer.

  Ren just shook his head. But he was smiling. And there was something in his black eyes, something new, something that made Merrie’s heart race. She couldn’t quite figure out what it was.

  On the way back to the ranch
, he stopped at a gate and frowned. He got down off his mount and checked the camera sitting on a post next to it. He pulled out his phone.

  “Willis. Has anybody been out here checking cameras today? They haven’t? The camera at the stable gate leading down to the line cabin is leaning. It looks to me as if it’s been handled roughly. Tell J.C. and have him get down here and look at it, will you? I know, could have been a big bird or a gust of wind. I just want to double-check. Sure. Thanks.”

  He hung up the phone and put it back on his belt.

  “You don’t think someone tried to tamper with it, do you?” she asked worriedly.

  “It’s unlikely that an intruder would have gotten this far.” He chuckled as he vaulted back into the saddle. “We’re about six miles off the main highway at the house. This is a quarter of a mile from there.”

  She glanced at him. “I don’t want to put you and Delsey in harm’s way,” she said. “I could leave...”

  He stared at her over the saddle horn. The leather creaked as he moved. He’d never had anyone worry about his safety, except Delsey. He was surprised at how much he liked it. Angie had never pretended to care if something happened to him.

  “I have state-of-the-art surveillance,” he reminded her. “And some of the toughest ex-mercs in the country. You’re safe here. So are we. Okay?”

  She let out a breath. “Okay.”

  He started riding, waiting for her.

  “Randall should have told you,” she said. “About why I came here, I mean.”

  He shrugged. “He knew you’d be safe. He just told me you’d had a stalker and you needed a place to get away from him.”

  “That would truly be the day.” She sighed. “Although I think I’d prefer that to what I have. Imagine a man sending a contract killer against two women because he wanted vengeance on their father. I still can hardly believe it.”

  * * *

  HE WAS QUIET as they rode.

  “Do you think Sari and I might turn out like that, because of our father?” she asked worriedly. “I mean, I’ve never even hurt a fly. I catch them and put them outside...”