The Tycoon and the Texan (10 page)

Nick waited until the lady disappeared into the shadows before replying. “She was raised in Texas and she rode in a couple of LA charity functions. She's rides like a feather balanced in a saddle. No doubt, she can handle any stud thrown at her.”

“She's about as spirited as Asteroid. So, why the secrecy about why you're here?”

“No secrecy. She just thinks I get everything I want, one way or another.”

“She's a smart one, huh,” Jock bantered.

Nick ignored the old buzzard. “So, for the time being, I don't necessarily want her to know I'm buying this ranch.”

“It's not like you to care what someone thinks, so then you're tellin' me that you care about that gal?”

“I respect her opinion . . . that's all.”

“But you're afraid she'll be thinkin' it's another of your whim-whams? Ain't that what Miz Maddi calls 'em?”

“Don't remind me.” Nick removed his Stetson and ran his fingers through his hair. “So until the lawyers find our missing investor and get the papers signed, I'd just as soon not jinx the deal by telling McCall about my plans.”

“Sounds like you're wantin' her to hang her bonnet next to your hat.”

“Not on your life, you ol' coot. So, tell me about that filly that's standing and ready to breed. Has she been teased with a gelding, yet?”

Jock nodded his head up and down. “No luck yet, but I haven't given up. She'll come around. She just isn't ready.” He suddenly changed subjects. “Well, I'll eat my hat, looky out there.” Jock motioned toward the pasture. “She rides like she's done it forever. The boy mustva got the saddle and tack for her.”

Nick looked up and cocked his head. “She sure seems connected to Asteroid.” Pursing his lips, he raised a questioning eyebrow. “About ready to talk about selling me this ranch, you ol' cuss?”

Nick and Jock spent more time than they had anticipated discussing the ranch operation and Nick's pending purchase, while McCall enjoyed a long ride on Asteroid.

After a supper at the Blacksmith Steakhouse in downtown Lompoc consisting of grilled steaks, baked potatoes, and a nice fresh salad, Nick put the top up on the Jag and headed north out of Lompoc toward Harris Grade, a whirligig of weaving curves, tight twisters, and hairpin turns.

On the right, they passed the old Valley Drive-In. Once a haven for young people, the abandoned theater lay silent in a boneyard of memories.

“Haven't seen an outdoor theater in a long time,” Nick joshed. “I thought they were history.”

“Not in Texas, they aren't.”

“Still have those dinosaurs out there?”

“How do you think Kasota Springs grew to a population that topped five hundred?” Her voice was smooth, laced with her lazy Texas drawl.

“I'll bite. How?” He flashed a playful grin.

McCall lowered her voice. No doubt deliberately being mysterious, she said, “Because of all the teenagers that fell in and out of love in the back row of the Kasota Springs Drive-in.” She giggled.

“Fell for it.” He chuckled in a deep jovial fashion. “You're serious about there still being drive-ins in Texas?”

“Yep, during the summer. Next time you're in Texas, I'll take you to one.”

“If we can fall in lust on the back row.” He took pleasure in shooting her a seductive grin.

“I said
in love
not in lust,” she defiantly corrected, and changed the subject. “The murals on the buildings are breathtaking.”

“They are. Lompoc is known for them and is sometimes called the city of murals.”

By the time they left the outskirts of the small town, Nick noticed McCall's attention had shifted to a monstrous bank of fog in the distance as the car followed winding curves around the mountain toward a valley cloaked in a mist of darkness and confusion.

McCall continually watched the clock on the dashboard, but said nothing for the longest time. When it turned to ten o'clock, she asked, “Do you think we'll make it all the way down to the valley before the fog gets worse?”

“Got no other choice. There's a lot of curves ahead of us before we come to a fairly long stretch of highway. This road can be very intimidating even in the daylight.”

McCall took a deep breath, and Nick suspected to take her mind off the treacherous spell of highway, she joined him in humming a popular tune from the Sirius Top 40 channel.

Without warning, a sudden bombardment of rain pelted the windshield, shattering the serenity of the night.

Already uncomfortable with the foggy conditions, Nick gripped the steering wheel and dropped his speed another ten miles an hour—to a virtual crawl. The wipers swished back and forth in cadence, like soldiers marching off to war. He clutched the wheel even tighter and fought off the knot building between his shoulder blades.

Realizing that he had begun grinding his teeth, Nick watched McCall shift uncomfortably in her seat. He broke the tension. “So, you enjoyed riding today. You seemed to have taken to that roan.”

“He was a dream. Fluid, cantered along smooth as silk.”

Nick cut his eyes away from the road and caught a glimpse of her face. “How come you felt so drawn to him?”

She frowned as though the question pained her, and pursed her lips. “I'm not sure. I guess you swayed me in his direction when you pointed him out to me.”

“I don't think it was that. You seemed like you knew him.”

“I just liked him. Maybe it was intuition. A Texas thing.” Her words were velvety, edged with steel.

“That could be it.” He dodged her comment like she'd thrown a horseshoe. “Did you have any trouble finding tack for the stallion?”

“No. And it was of excellent quality. I had him saddled before Mr. Mcmurphy's ranch hand showed up.”

“You said you'd vacationed out here. Did your family fancy horses?”

“We always had horses on Granny's place. Wild mustangs adopted through the Bureau of Land Management, cow ponies—”

“Cow ponies?”

“Yeah, workhorses,” she said curtly. “You know, the type that have no pedigree but a purpose beyond making beaucoups of big bucks for some millionaire owner?”

“Oops, that hurt.” Nick grabbed his chest as though she'd stabbed him with a dagger. In a way she had, and he felt sure the comment was meant as a prickly message.

“My daddy used to talk about various horses that raced over in New Mexico.”

“You said New Mexico. Isn't there horseracing in Texas?”

“Some tracks. One at San Antonio that I know of, but nothing near the Panhandle, where I'm from.”

“So your dad liked the fast track?”

“Fast track, fast ponies, fast money. It was all the same to him.”

“Did you ever go with him to the racetrack?”

“No, he wouldn't let me, but he'd bring home stories about the jockeys, trainers, and horses.” She fidgeted with her blouse collar. “He knew a lot about racing. Even drove over to Amarillo to get tip sheets and racing forms.” McCall pulled her cardigan snug over her breasts. “He'd ponder over them for hours and tell me which ponies were a sure bet and which ones were crow bait.”

“Do you remember any particular horse he liked?”

“Gosh, it's been a long time, but a couple seemed to intrigue him. He mentioned one horse a lot. He said he spent a lot of money on him. I always presumed he meant he'd
lost
a lot of money on him at the track.”

“Remember his name?”

“Don't ask me why it stuck, since I was so young, but I'm sure it was Double Deuce Down or something along that line.”

Nick's breath caught in his lungs. “Double Deuce Down?” Shock caused the words to wedge in his throat. He tried desperately to take command over his surprise, but failed miserably.

The roan she had ridden was registered with the AQHA as Double Deuce Down but because he was so fast on the track someone had nicknamed him Asteroid . . . and it stuck.

Nick finally managed to add, “Interesting name.”

“Yes. I'm pretty sure, but not one hundred percent, that his sire was one of Granny's stallions. Gigolo, I think, but again, I'm not sure. I was pretty young.”

Relief flooded over Nick. He wasn't sure who Double Deuce Down's father was, but knew for certain it wasn't anything like Gigolo. Just a coincidence with the name. On the other side of the coin, he hadn't read the AQHA papers with the lineage on any of the horses on the ranch except for Asteroid. And that was mainly because the horse was unique, with a remarkable number of victories. Nick also trusted Jock's judgment. He knew good stock, and Nick had no reason to question his decisions.

But Nick wouldn't be comfortable until he discussed McCall's father's vices. “Mac, if I'm not prying I have a couple questions about—”

His question was lost in a piercing scream boiling from McCall's lungs.

Nick stomped on the brakes. Barely able to maintain control, the sports car skidded to a stop.

“What in the hell?”

“Oh my God, Nick!” McCall's hands shot to her face, covering her mouth. “You almost hit that woman.” She gasped, panting in terror.

“What woman?” Startled, Nick's words riveted like an assault weapon. “You scared the living hell out of me. What are you talking about? What woman?”

“Nick, you must have seen her. You nearly hit the poor lady.”

Nick's fists whitened as he clenched the steering wheel. He rested his forehead on the back of his hands and took a deep breath, hoping to settle his racing pulse.

After gaining composure, he lifted his head and looked at the pallid-faced woman beside him. “I don't know what you think you saw—”

“It's not what I
think
I saw, it's what I
know
I saw.” She boldly met his stare. “A woman crossed the road right in front of you, and you didn't even slow down.”

“Slow down, hell! I didn't see her!”

McCall bolted from the car without regard to the waterfall of rain pounding the pavement.

Nick jammed the Jag into gear and swung it off the road a few yards ahead. Effortless as a thoroughbred, he stepped out of the car and exhaled hot air, prepared to not only face the inclement weather, but also the hellion stomping her way back up the hill. “McCall, you're going to get hit. Get out of the center of the road,” he screamed, to no avail.

A sudden gust of wind lashed out, and a wall of rain swooshed against his face, momentarily blinding him.

With long strides, the stubborn woman stalked on.

“You're going to catch your death of foolishness out here in this rain,” he yelled, tearing off his jacket.

Once he reached the dripping wet spitfire, he pulled the coat around her shoulders. She didn't seem to notice as she trudged toward an opening near a small gathering of trees.

“This is where she was headed. Toward a sofa sitting on the side of the road.” McCall traipsed onward. Nick had to use every ounce of his athletic prowess to stay abreast of her.

Rainwater galloped downhill as though trying to reach the finish line before being boxed out by the fog.

“First a woman. Now there's a sofa on the side of the road. Was it a sleeper or a daybed?” Nick growled and rolled his eyes, glad he was out of her peripheral vision.

Obviously ignoring his sarcasm, she marched onward, like a soldier facing battle. “You probably don't believe I saw ostriches and llamas earlier, either.”

“At least they were real. Get over to the side of the road,” he commanded.

For the first time since bailing from the car, she followed his orders and stomped off the pavement.

Believing it might be best to appease McCall, since she was so emphatic about what she saw, Nick thought back to the moments just before he heard her scream.

The only thing he recalled, after her talking about her Granny's horse, Double Deuce Down, was a wailing sound. He quickly chalked off the noise as a gust of wind that had accompanied the eerie orb of dense fog passing in front of the headlights.

Damnation, how could he have missed seeing a woman cross the road?

No woman walked through or hid in the mist.

Could this be a distraction to stop his inquiry about McCall's father's familiarity with horses? She was obviously frightened and near hysteria. In fairness, the most accomplished Hollywood actress would have difficulty honing drama to such heights.

“McCall, damn it, was she running?” Nick fought the barrage of rain. “And I didn't hit her.”

“You nearly did.” She stormed. “She wasn't running, or even walking really fast, just kinda . . . well, not quite a glide, but loped—cantered—and hovering. I couldn't see her feet in the fog, but she moved quickly.”

A vicious burst of wind grabbed McCall's ankles and sucked her legs from beneath her.

She tumbled forward.

A stronger blast of air forced her down. She landed within a few feet of the edge of the road overlooking a deep and wide valley.

Nick lunged forward to grab her.

In one quick motion, he caught McCall, pulled her upward, and gathered the shaking woman into his arms. “Damn it, woman!” he barked as though it was her fault she fell.

She crumpled against him and allowed his arms to encircle her. To protect her.

Their hearts beat as one.

“Angel Eyes, I'm sorry I yelled, but you scared the hell out of me.” He pushed wet tendrils from her forehead. “I was afraid a car was going to come along and hit you.”

Hot tears rolled off her cheeks. Something he had never seen from her. A sucker for a crying woman, Nick pulled her closer and kissed her temple. “Let's get back in the car before we drown or worse yet, finish your trek over the cliff.”

“I can't until I find that woman. She might be hurt.”

“Baby, don't you think I'd know if we'd hit something?”

“But she might need our help.” More tears followed, as she neared hysteria. “Please, Nick, we must go to the sheriff—”

“If it'll settle you down, we'll stop at the
police station
in the next town and report the incident.” He choked out the words.

An incident indicated something was wrong, but there was nothing to report. Or was there?