2000 Kisses (26 page)

“So what do you think really happened?” Head bowed, Tom Stoner paced back and forth, frowning down at the oleander bushes outside Doc Felton's office.

TJ. hesitated to mention the gunshot he'd heard. “Have you seen anything odd in those foothills lately? Strange activity or people who don't belong?”

“We get vagrants now and again. Sometimes they come in from Mexico and move on north.” The rancher's face reddened beneath his deep tan. “Lately I've seen only those damned survivalists. They tear around the desert in their dune buggies and campers, frightening my cattle. Last week I found a heifer down in a box canyon with her neck broken. Someone should run that whole outfit off, if you ask me.”

“They've got a right to be on the land they purchased, just the same as we do,” T.J. said dryly. “It's called the American way. Now, if they're on public land, that's something else.”

“Reckon they were,” the rancher said slowly. “I saw them out beyond the Needle yesterday. Looked like they might have been building some kind of temporary camp up there.”

T.J. stored that away for future reference. “Anything else you've seen up there?”

“Couple of dead coyotes, I guess.”

“When?”

The rancher squinted down the street and scratched his jaw. “Two—maybe three days ago.”

“Any idea what killed them?”

The old man shrugged. “Didn't check. I figured it was a snake or some kind of disease. Why?”

Carefully T.J. toed a line in the dirt. “Miguel found two dead coyotes up there last week. He thinks it might be some new kind of poison.”

“Sounds like nasty stuff.”

“Maybe your foreman could bag up one of those carcasses and bring it in. I'd like to run a few tests.”

“I can send someone up right now.”

“No need to do it this second,” T.J. said. “I'm going back up myself to take a look around.”

“Don't blame you. Can't imagine anyone fool enough to tangle with you,” He shook his head slowly. “Could be those survivalists. They must have ten or twenty children in that camp up there, and not a doctor or teacher in sight. Probably breaking a dozen laws, taking drugs and Lord knows what else.”

T.J. shoved back his hat, his eyes narrowed. “Are you saying you've seen signs of drug use or sale up there?”

“Hell if I know. Just seems that someone's always coming or going.” The rancher shook his head. “But that hasn't bothered you before, Sheriff. Makes me wonder if you haven't already taken sides.”

“No one's taking sides here, Tom.”

“No?” The old man sniffed. “Sure could have fooled me. Why not just hand them the keys to the courthouse while you're at it?”

T.J. tried to contain his irritation as the man walked stiffly back to his truck.

Tom Stoner was known to be wary of outsiders, but he was no kook, and two more dead coyotes couldn't be explained away as an accident. A visit to the survivalist camp would be his next priority.

But first he was going to recheck the wash. He hadn't imagined that gunshot.

He waited only long enough to hammer out instructions to Grady, who was going off duty in ten minutes. “Will you keep an eye on Tess for an hour or so while Doc finishes checking her out? I want to go back up into the hills. This time I'm borrowing a mount from the Bar W and going in from the west. No truck can cover those hills as well as a horse.”

“No problem, Sheriff. You think you can find out who slashed your tires?”

“I mean to try.”

Grady looked genuinely stunned. “You don't suspect someone from Almost?”

“I'm suspecting anyone and everyone until I know different. One more thing, Grady. No matter what she says, don't let Tess out of your sight, not for a minute. Don't leave anyone alone with her either.”

Grady scratched his head. “I'm not exactly sure what you're saying here, Sheriff.”

“Just what it sounds like. Either someone has followed Tess here, or it was someone from town. I'm not taking any chances one way or another.”

“I don't like it.” Grady rubbed his jaw. “These are people I've lived with for years. I don't like looking at them and wondering what they might be hiding.”

“You think I like it?” T.J. jammed his hat down hard on his head. “But that's the way it is, understand?”

Grady suddenly straightened. “What about me? Why aren't you considering me a suspect? I was out on police business most of the morning. I had time to follow you up to the ruins.”

McCall gave a crooked grin. “I'm not worried about you, Grady. In that broken-down truck of yours, the whole town would have heard you coming and going. Besides,” he called over his shoulder, “you're such a bad shot that if you tried to aim east, the bullet would still end up somewhere in California.”

T.J. reined in his horse at the edge of the pinon forest an hour later.

He sat easily in the saddle, getting a sense of the terrain and all the places a man might hide without being
seen. He took a slow swallow from his canteen, then replaced it carefully.

Late afternoon sunlight streamed over the canyons as he turned his horse in a wide loop. He meant to cover all the naiTow side canyons and the foothills near the ruins. He was looking for anything and nothing, knowing that preconceived notions about what he might find would cloud his search.

At the edge of a dry wash, he dismounted, inspecting the ground carefully. He saw the marks made by Tess's boots beneath an ancient pinon. Now, why had she left the trail there, he wondered. How had Tess known about this path when even he and Doc Felton hadn't known it was there?

Farther up the wash he came across a narrow, heavily overgrown path that wound up the slope to the eliff. He followed the tracks and cursed as they vanished into a rocky ridge that led out of the wash to the north, disappearing behind boulders and pinon. Once again, he felt tension build in his neck.

A twig snapped not far away. TJ. spun around, gun level, scanning the area.

A deer turned and vanished into a thicket.

Cursing his rampant imagination, he holstered his gun and picked his way upward where the dry creek fanned out into a promontory that gave a perfect view of the valley. He covered the rocky slope on foot, studying the terrain. A flash of color caught his eyes. Bending down, he found a spent brass rifle shell: 30-06 caliber. He raised the shell to his nose and sniffed.

Fresh—fired within the last couple of tours.

Carefully, he wrapped up the casing and slid it into his pocket, hoping that the forensics team in Tucson could give him more information, though he knew it was
unlikely. Virtually every hunter in America would have a 30-06. His only chance of identifying the person who fired at them earlier would be to find the gun itself and match the markings on the spent shells.

Muscles knotted along the back of his neck as he straightened and stared into the sunlight. Someone could have stood right here and surveyed the whole valley, unseen. With a good rifle and decent aim, there was no reason they should have missed either himself or Tess.

But they had.

Why?

One thing was certain. Tess wouldn't be leaving his side from now on.

McCall was about to make his way back down the talus slope when he saw a shape beneath a patch of sage and low trees. Pebbles scattered as he jumped down, pushing aside the greenery to scan the ground beneath.

His eyes glittered with anger at the sight of a mother and three coyote pups. All dead.

Q
uestions left T.J. with a sour taste in his mouth and a bad temper as he strode into Doc Felton's office. He bypassed the curious receptionist and headed straight back to the exam room Tess occupied.

After one knock, he pulled the door open, his gaze homing straight in on Tess. He took one look at her drawn, pale face and decided to dispense with his questions—for now.

T.J. wanted to gather her close, wipe away her pain and uncertainty. Of course, he also wanted to give her a thorough tongue-lashing for putting herself in danger. “How are you feeling?”

“I'm fine,” she said as she struggled to put on her boots. “Doc says I can go.”

With a curse, T.J. swept up the red boots in one hand, then caught her as she swayed. “You sure Doc said you can leave?”

“I'm just tired and my leg hurts. Doc gave me pills and they're making me sleepy.” She stared at him blindly, then swayed again.

“Hold on to me.”

“I'm
not
going to faint,” she whispered.

“Sure, you're not. You'll be just fine.” His hands circled her waist, holding her steady.

She shuddered, her face losing even more color.

“That does it.” TJ. caught her up in his arms, scowling.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you home. That way I can be sure you rest when you're told to.” He shouldered the door open. “It's about time I put you on a short leash,” he said as he carried her into the waiting room and past a crowd of interested bystanders gathered at the door.

“I can walk perfectly well,” Tess muttered.

“So can I. Next time you can carry me,” he said dryly.

“Put me down, TJ. This is embarrassing.”

“Get over it.”

“Is she going to be okay?” the school principal asked anxiously.

“Fine,” TJ. replied tersely without slowing down. The crowd parted in front of him as he kept moving, looking neither right nor left.

He yanked open the door to the Jeep Tom Martinez had brought back from T.J.'s ranch. By then he knew that the Blazer belonging to the Sheriffs Department would be hooked to a tow truck to be hauled back to town for new tires.

TJ. settled Tess carefully into the passenger seat, then reached across to snap her seat belt, fighting an urge to kiss some pink back into her cheeks. He wondered if she had any idea that her face was the color of putty and her hands were shaking.

Probably not. The crazy female truly did have the temperament of a Gila monster. “Stop fighting me,” he growled as her hands wrapped around his arm.

Her eyes darkened. “I'm—not fighting. Actually, I don't feel so well. I think I'm going to—”

TJ. whipped off her seat belt and angled her head outside. “Take it easy, Duchess. Just let it go,”

He heard her breathless gasp. It was several moments before he realized he was hearing ragged laughter. “What's wrong now?”

“Not that kind of sick. Dizzy.”

TJ. brought her back up slowly. “Easy. Take deep breaths and think about something else.” He felt her muscles tense, her whole body going rigid. Cursing, he worked the knots in her shoulders.

“I'm better now.”

He raised her gently. Her face was still too pale, her pupils dilated—all to be expected after the experience she'd just been through. He offered her a drink from the water bottle he kept in the car, wishing it were brandy.

She stared at him, just stared, as if she were trying to read all his secrets.

TJ. fastened her seat belt again, slid behind his seat, buckled in, and started the car.

“Where are we going?” she asked wearily.

“Home—where I can keep an eye on you without getting the whole town involved.”

' That's not necessary—”

“The hell it isn't.” He brushed her cheek gently, giving lie to the roughness of his voice. “You're going to rest.” He cupped her chin, interrupting her as she started to say something. “My house, my rules.”

“That's blunt.”

His finger fanned out over her cheek. “No, that's honest.” He saw color filter through her face and indecision fill her eyes.

“Bully.”

“Damned straight.” His fingers fanned out over her
cheek. Then he put the Jeep into gear and backed out onto the street.

“Did you find anything when you went back to the ruins?”

“A spent rifle shell and what looked like a set of tracks leading down into the wash.”

“Someone was there. Do you think he shot at me?”

“It's possible. I won't know much until I have that shell analyzed.”

“They can tell you when it was fired?”

He nodded. And berated himself for being too slow. She could have been badly hurt, maybe even killed. He should have been prepared, not letting her out of his sight or his reach.