High-Stakes Colton Page 9

  Jake walked over with his dishes anyway and pushed his way between them. “Why don’t you keep your lewd comments to yourself,” Jake snarled between clenched teeth.

  Henry’s expression narrowed and everything in his tough face told Jake this was no regular cowhand. “Why don’t you mind your own business, sheriff?”

  “No, I agree, Henry. Breakfast is over. Beat it,” Ellen said, setting the dishes in the sink.

  Henry stared across the space at him, bitterness etched into his face. He wanted to slam the man’s face into a wall and Henry looked like he’d be happy to return that favor. He backed away then with a disgusted look, grabbed up his hat off the side of the chair, jammed it on his head and left, a defiant smirk across his weak mouth.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “It wasn’t necessary to come to my rescue, but appreciated. I can handle Henry.”

  Jake tugged at his hat and nodded. “My pleasure.”

  He headed out of the apartments and toward the corral where Zorro was housed. The black stallion wasn’t out and Jake entered the barn and walked to his stall. He was inside, his back hoof raised and his head lowered.

  He was still asleep. Jake grabbed a lunge line and went to unlatch the stall door when he heard what sounded like angry muffled voices.

  He listened intently and discovered the voices were coming from the loft above him. Jake hung the lunge back on the hook and went to the stairs. He climbed up to find Clay boxed into a corner by Henry. “You are as dense as a box of rocks. I’m offering you something good here. Don’t turn your nose up at it,” Henry said.

  “What’s going on?” Jake took a step forward and Henry moved back off Clay.

  “Nothing, just teaching the kid how to stack hay.” He thrust out his chin, his stance telling Jake he was pissed about being interrupted and even more ticked off that it was Jake.

  “That right, Clay?” Jake stared at him, the muscles in his face taut.

  Henry glared at Clay, his face rigid, then swung his gaze to Jake. Clenching his fist, Jake was sure he wanted to bury it in his face.

  Clay swallowed, his expression telling Jake he was intimidated but rebellious. He looked at Henry and then back at Jake. “Yeah. That’s all.”

  Jake folded his arms, a small smile appearing. “Well, aren’t you the Good Samaritan?”

  Henry held up his hands, a look of anger and frustration on his face. “I see I’m not wanted and I have plenty of stuff to do,” he said, backing up, distaste on his face. “Just think about what I said, kid.” He formed his hand into the semblance of a gun, leveled it at Clay and pretended to shoot it, his index finger mimicking a trigger and his low “Pow” still audible to Jake. “Later.”

  Henry left the loft and Jake turned back to Clay. “Are you sure Mr. Swango is nothing more than a good friend and mentor to you?”

  His face tightening, his eyes shuttering, Clay set his hands on his hips. “I have bales to stack and now thanks to you, I’m on my own.” Clay turned away.

  “I’ll stay and help,” Jake offered.

  Clay gave him a dubious look and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “You can stack,” Jake said.

  Clay huffed a skeptical laugh. “These weigh upward of eighty pounds each, old man.” Clay smirked. “You sure you don’t want the easy job?”

  “Who you calling ‘old man.’ I’m thirty-four.”

  “Double my age and besides, your eyes tell me you’ve seen things. They look old.”

  Jake blinked a couple of times. Out of the mouths of babes. “I never take the easy way out.” Jake walked to the open loft door, pulling his gloves out of his back pocket and slipping them on. It was still warm, at least ninety degrees, his back was already sweating. He grabbed the first bale.

  Clay shook his head and walked over to where Henry had started the stack. “Let’s go.”

  After thirty bales Jake was feeling the pull and burn across his shoulders and in his arms. His breathing was a little faster from the constant movement. He wasn’t used to this type of labor. He trained horses, but the Rangers had people who took care of them. He’d pulled double duty every so often, but it had been a long time.

  “Feeling the burn?” Clay said, wiping his brow and grabbing two bottles of water. He threw one to Jake and downed his own from a stash he had.

  Jake caught it and pulled off one of his gloves with his teeth and unscrewed the top, his throat working as he drained the bottle. He put his hands on his hips, trying to ease the biting tension in his shoulders.

  Pulling the glove back on, he said, “So how did you end up in a community program.”

  “Court mandated,” Clay snapped.

  “I guessed that much,” Jake said with a small smile. “I mean what did you do to get yourself jammed up?”

  “Shoplifting,” Clay said, his face hardening.

  Jake hauled another square over to Clay. “What? Video games, electronics?”

  “Food,” he said, grabbing the bale Jake handed him and shoving it onto the stack, setting it in tight with his knee.

  He reached for another bale, the ache in his shoulders turning hot and sharp as guilt stabbed him hard in the gut. The kid reminded him so much of Matt, who had also been tagged for shoplifting when he’d been Clay’s age. A year later he was dead from a drug overdose. Pain stabbed even harder and he took a breath as he pulled the bale off the pulley and shot it toward Clay.

  “That’s tough,” he said, his voice gruff. Sweat blinded him and he swiped the back of his gloved hand across his brow.

  Clay shrugged. “My mom wasn’t the most reliable person.”

  “And your dad?” His tone softened.

  A look of resentment and annoyance on his face, he said, his eyes bruised, “Didn’t know him. Split a long time ago.”

  Their old man hadn’t split, but had tried to run both their lives. Jake had heeded the call to law enforcement like their dad, but Matt had resisted and rebelled. There had been a time he thought Matt would buckle under, but he’d run away from home instead and that’s when their dad had lost his influence on him and the street had taken over. Matt had a dad, but the pressure from him had sent Matt into the streets to discover who he was. Along the way he got so lost, and then his dad had lost a son and Jake a brother. Maybe if Jake had tried harder to get through, Matt would be alive.

  “Even tougher.”

  “Yeah, I’m a hard-luck case.” Clay smoothed his palms over the gloves on his hands with more force than necessary. His chin lifted and the pain in his eyes was replaced with challenge. “I don’t need your help.”

  “That so?” Jake set his hands on his hips. “Well, I’m offering it whether you need it or not.”

  “Right.” He slung the bale and this time he settled it in place with a little more force than necessary, his smile just a little nasty.

  “You sound skeptical.”

  “Just drop it,” Clay said, his voice flat. “I’m here because I was ordered here. End of discussion.”

  Handing him another bale, slightly out of breath from the exertion, Jake said, “Doesn’t mean you can’t use it as an opportunity to change your life around.”

  Clay grabbed another bale, his eyes dark and haunted. “What would you know about that?”

  “Only that you are the one who’s in charge. I get the feeling you like this ranching stuff.”

  Clay shrugged without answering, taking the next bale.

  “The cowboy way is an honest, hardworking living. With what you’re doing here, you could get a job on a spread.” He’d loved ranching and horse whispering. But now he was an undercover Texas Ranger. He’d lied to Alanna about not spying on her, but that was permissible. So why did he feel so much like he was betraying an innocent woman? This was an investigation based on her likelihood of being involved with her father’s kidnapping. But there was a draw to the simplicity of living the ranching life. He was worn-out, burned-out, sick of always bashing his head against a brick wall. He’d made mi
stakes and maybe it was best to give it up. Get out. But that was wrong. He was the best of the best in Texas. A Ranger. He’d worked hard to get where he was. He was just tired. The feeling would pass.

  Jake’s cell rang and he pulled it out of his back pocket. “McCord.” The voice belonged to Sheriff Troy Watkins who was responsible for investigating Eldridge Colton’s disappearance. “We have a witness who’s come forward with information regarding Alanna Colton and we want you to be on hand when we question her. Can you head over to my office?”

  “I can be there in about half an hour.”

  “See you then.”

  “You’ve got to go,” Clay said. “I can handle the rest.”

  “No, I can finish. We’re almost done.”

  They worked for about ten minutes and when the last bale was stacked Jake headed for the stairs and the lower barn. He had to grab a quick shower, then drive over to town.

  “Jake?”

  “Yeah,” he said, pausing.

  “Thanks for sticking around.”

  “Sure. No problem. It’s none of my concern, but if you get into a tight spot regarding Henry, you should bring that up with Alanna.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Clay said, looking away. As he went down the stairs and headed for his apartment, he had hope Clay was open to turning his life around.

  He hadn’t been able to save Matt, but maybe he could help Clay.

  *

  “I’m telling you. That’s what I heard with my own two ears.”

  Jake eyed the woman, her unkempt appearance and stringy blond hair not engendering confidence in what she was saying. “You heard Alanna Colton, the heiress?” He tapped her picture again, the one of her all dolled up for a charity function, in a scarlet-red dress, showing just a hint of her tantalizing cleavage and baring her creamy shoulders. She had on emerald earrings and a necklace that probably cost more than his salary, her lips painted a siren red, her makeup making her eyes appear a smoky, sultry green. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with a ringlet of soft blond curls snaking around the delicate column of her throat.

  “Yeah, that’s her.”

  “And, she threatened her father?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I said.” The woman rolled her eyes, her tone belligerent. “Are you hearing me? I said she told her father if he didn’t butt out of the stable business, he’d be sorry. Can I go now?”

  “No,” Jake said as he rose and exited the interrogation room.

  “What do you think?” Troy Watkins said just moments later as Jake leaned against the door.

  There was something about her that didn’t ring true and he didn’t like what she had to say. Didn’t make it a lie, but Jake wasn’t one to take anyone at their word. “Did you check out this woman’s background?”

  “Ella Wilson is a waitress for the place where Alanna and her father often ate in Dallas. Meddlesome Butterfly. She could have easily overheard them. She was working that day. Charlie checked it out.”

  Deputy Sheriff Charlie Kidwell, nodded his head. He was in his midthirties with blond hair and blue eyes. He pulled out a notebook and flipped it open. “I sure did, Ranger McCord. Her manager said she was on the lunch-to-dinner shift that day.”

  “Did he confirm Alanna and her father were dining there?”

  “There’s a charge on Miss Colton’s credit card for lunch that day. She was there and the manager confirmed it by looking at a picture of her on my phone.”

  Jake didn’t want Alanna to be guilty, thinking he should really recuse himself from the case, but the thought of leaving her and Clay alone with Henry Swango working there stuck in his craw. He might be struggling with his conflict of interest where she was concerned, but he wasn’t willing to abandon them. If Alanna was guilty, he would do his duty no matter how much it hurt. He’d done that in the past when he’d taken his brother in for a DWI. He often wondered if that jail time had set him on his path to drugs and ruin. If he had pulled strings or gotten the charges reduced, maybe Matt would be alive.

  Second-guessing himself wasn’t helping, but his instincts had been shattered the day Tim Preston had been gunned down and breathed his last breath. Trusting in himself and his abilities put him on shaky ground right now. Really, HQ should have put a different Ranger on this case and left him with his horses.

  “You should bring her in for questioning,” Jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. He saw no way around it.

  The sheriff nodded. “I’ll go get her myself, but we can’t have her see you.”

  “I’ll be in the observation room.”

  He nodded.

  Jake waited, pacing back and forth, for Alanna to show up. Once the door to the interrogation room opened and the sheriff ushered a pale-faced Alanna in, he was driving himself crazy wondering about her guilt or innocence.

  “Have a seat, Miss Colton.”

  “What is this about, Sheriff? I’ve answered all the questions you had about my father’s disappearance.” She might be under a lot of stress, but the woman could hold her own. Her voice was strong and her gaze direct.

  “New information has come to light.”

  “Oh, God. Have you found him? Is he—”

  The anguish in her voice made his gut clench. Either she was a good actress or she was totally sincere.

  “No, we haven’t found him. This is in regard to your lunch at Meddlesome Butterfly.”

  He named the date and she frowned. “Yes, I was there.”

  “A witness has come forward who says you threatened your father.” He looked down at the file in his hand. “The waitress serving you that day reported to us that you said, ‘If you don’t butt out of the stable business, you’ll be sorry.’”

  “I never said that to him because he wasn’t there that day. I was having lunch with a horse dealer. He’s bald like my dad, so she must have gotten them mixed up. I can assure you, he’ll back up my story.”

  The sheriff pulled out his pad and pen. “His name and where we can contact him.”

  “His name is Jeremy Bellows.” She pulled out her cell phone and tapped the screen then read off a number. “I’m sure he’ll clear this up.”

  “Let’s hope so, Miss Colton.”

  Alanna’s lips thinned. “I didn’t have anything to do with my father’s disappearance,” she said, anger in her voice, her eyes flashing. “I would never hurt him.”

  Jake immediately pulled out his cell and tapped in the number.

  “Heritage Ranch,” a female voice said.

  “Hello, I’d like to speak to Mr. Bellows.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bellows is unavailable. Can I take a message?”

  “Yes, tell him it’s urgent I speak to him.”

  She took his name and number and he hung up. The sheriff entered the small observation room, but Jake couldn’t take his eyes off Alanna. “I just called. He’s not available,” Jake muttered.

  “I think she’s stalling for time.”

  “You think she’s guilty of kidnapping? That she’s holding her father somewhere?” Jake dragged his eyes away from Alanna to Sheriff Watkins.

  “Maybe she just did away with him. There was blood at the scene.”

  “She can’t weigh more than a buck ten soaking wet,” he said, gesturing to Alanna who sat at the table with a composed look on her face.

  The sheriff shifted, the leather of his holster creaking. He sighed. “Maybe she had help. Her dad was pretty frail and in ill health. Maybe this hump Bellows is in cahoots with her.”

  Jake took one last look at Alanna. “Keep me posted. I’ve got to get back to the ranch. I’ve already been gone too long. Give me a head start.”

  “Will do.”

  Until they got ahold of the man she claimed she was having lunch with the day she allegedly threatened her father, there was no way to refute what she had said or prove her innocence. The truth of the matter was this was damaging information for her, and the sheriff’s office would have no choice but to put her right at the t
op of the suspect list, which meant he should really back off her.

  He was already in too deep and compromising himself further would jeopardize both his career and his sanity.

  If the witness’s testimony held up and Alanna had lied about threatening her father, this would make her the prime suspect—make her look guilty as hell.

  And if she was...he would arrest her himself.

  Chapter 8

  Alanna sat in her car for a few minutes after the sheriff released her. Her heart still pounded at the accusation. How could that waitress mistake a simple conversation about the purchase of a string of barrel racer stock for Alanna threatening her father?

  Panic and adrenaline rushing through her, she rubbed at her temple.

  It was true Mr. Bellows looked a little like Eldridge Colton. In fact, she had thought that when she’d first seen him. She barely knew the man, but he was now instrumental in clearing her of this allegation.

  The feeling of being, once again, completely alone in a situation washed over her. Really, there was something so basic about relying on the people you loved. But when she thought about how this made her look guilty, she couldn’t help but wonder who might be behind it.

  Then she remembered Jake and how he’d comforted her last night and the way that had settled right into her bones and heart. He was a third party, someone outside her family’s influence and he made her knees weak.

  Was that smart?

  No.

  So not smart, but it was an irrefutable fact. Of course, he could have an ulterior motive. She couldn’t be sure he wasn’t after her name recognition, favors, her money. All of the above. It just didn’t feel like that, though.

  No, Jake made her feel things she’d never felt before. Things that made her feel safe and oh so good.

  Safe. That was an alien concept.

  She leaned her head back against the headrest and closed her eyes. Mr. Bellows would clear her. There was nothing to worry about. She’d had lunch with him at Meddlesome Butterfly. Plenty of people saw them.

  But that waitress had said she’d threatened her father.

  How many people in the restaurant thought Mr. Bellows was her father? She had picked up the check because it was a business meeting she had requested. She wanted to keep it on the QT. Her plans for the stables hung in the balance.