Cowboy Heaven (23 page)

I froze, barely taking a breath as I opened my eyes a slit. What little light there was cast swirls of color over the face of someone standing over me, holding the cocked pistol to Dusty's head. I didn't know if Dusty was awake or not, but I was taking no chances. Erupting from the bed screaming bloody murder, I knocked the startled intruder's hand aside just as the gun fired.

Whatever I said probably wasn't the least bit coherent, but I did shout it at the top of my lungs.

“Get out of the way, girl,” a male voice hissed at me. “I need to kill his sorry ass.”

“No!” I fell on top of Dusty, doing my best to shield him from this maniac, whoever he was.

“Don't protect him, sweetheart,” he urged. “Not after what he's done to you. You protected the other one, too, didn't you? He didn't deserve it, either. Now get out of the way. If you don't want to watch, you should leave, honey. I'll take care of him. Believe me, it'll be a pleasure.”

Honey? Sweetheart?
Who would be calling me that? It couldn't have been my father. The voice sounded so strange, not like anyone I knew—more like that of a young man whose voice couldn't decide whether to be soprano or baritone. None of the men on the ranch were anywhere near that age. Who
was
this?

My heart pounded like a bass drum. I could feel as well as hear the pulse in my ears, and my hands and feet turned to ice in an instant. My brain wasn't working very well, either. I was terrified and couldn't think of a single thing to do to keep this from happening.

“I've waited too long,” he went on. “Too late. It's my fault. I should have been watching more closely and kept you safe. I'm sorry this happened to you, sweetheart. I blame myself for it. Myself and him. You aren't responsible. We are. And he'll pay, just as I have, just as the other one did. Now move.”

I found my tongue at last, saying what was first and foremost in my mind with what wits I had left. “Who are you? Dusty hasn't done anything wrong. I love him. I don't want him dead.”

“You don't know any better.” He sounded almost apologetic, like a father remonstrating with a beloved child, but the voice…the voice was all wrong. It was too youthful, too pure… “You're too young to know. I trusted them, but they betrayed that trust, and so did he. He has to die, honey. Has to.”

Again, he sounded so patient and calm as he explained why he needed to kill the man I loved. How could he ever hope to convince me? The idea was ridiculous, laughable.

But I wasn't laughing.

I was trapped in the middle of a surrealistic nightmare. This couldn't be happening, couldn't possibly be real. I was still asleep, and if so, I desperately needed to wake up, because I couldn't see any way out.

“No,” I whispered. “
No
.”

“You don't understand what he'll do to you, darling. He'll take you and hurt you, slit your throat, and leave you to die in a cold, dark alley. I can't let that happen, honey. Not again. I couldn't live with myself if I let it happen again. I can barely live with myself now.”

“What do you mean, let it happen again?” I clutched at that tiny phrase like a lifeline. Perhaps he had me confused with someone else. “I've never been hurt like that—never. And even if I had, Dusty wouldn't have done it; he loves me.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, yes, that's what they told me too. ‘We like her,' they said. ‘We'll take good care of her.' And like a fool, I believed them. They were my friends. They wouldn't lie. Not to me.”

“Angel.” Dusty's voice sounded from behind me, quiet and steady, letting me know for the first time that the bullet hadn't hit him.

It's about time.
I was slightly pissed at him for leaving me to wonder for so long. For all I knew, I might have been protecting a corpse.

“Do what he said and move out of the way.”

“And let him kill you?” I squeaked. “No way. I'm staying right here.”

“He's right, you know,” the other man said from the shadows. “You should move. You should listen to him. He knows what he's done. He understands the penalty.”

Although he stood in the shadows, I could still see the faint gleam on the barrel of the gun silhouetted against the darker outline of the open doorway.

“Angel,” Dusty repeated, more firmly this time. “Get out of the way. The gun might go off again. I don't want him to shoot you by mistake.”

“Angel?” the voice from the darkness inquired with a curious inflection. “Her name isn't Angel.” When he laughed again, the hair prickled at my nape. “You see, sweetheart, he doesn't even know your name. How can you protect someone like that? Listen to me, listen to your brother. You know I'm right. He's bad. They're
all
bad. I know I failed you so long ago, honey. I let the others live after what they did to you, but I've kept you safe since then.

“Until
he
came. I stood it for a long time. You seemed happy enough, but then one day I heard you screaming. I knew he was there with you, hurting you, and I couldn't let him get away with it the way the others did. He had to die. I killed him, just as I'll kill this one. The first one was easier, though. This one is much harder—like a cat with nine lives.” He chuckled at his own joke. “But even cats aren't impossible to kill. You have to be persistent.”

I keyed on what was apparently the most pertinent point in what he'd said, trying to ignore the fact that he seemed to be confessing to Cody's murder. “I don't have a brother. What's your sister's name?”

“Silly girl.” His quiet laughter grated on my nerves like the screech of fingernails on a chalkboard. “Always a silly, giggling little girl with long, shining braids. My lovely Adrian. So sweet, so loving, so trusting. I said I'd look after you, and I have. The nasty men can't come near my girl. I've made sure of that—or tried to. I can't watch you all the time, though.” His tone altered slightly, as though deepening with regret. “Too many of them…had to scare them…had to make them stay away. But you seek them out, don't you?” His voice changed even further, becoming more accusing with each word he spoke. “You fight me every step of the way. You must
want
to die.”

Something in his voice finally struck a chord. Suddenly, I knew who it was—had really known all along. I sat up, leaning forward, trying to see him, to reason with him.

“Rufus,” I said gently. “You aren't my brother. I don't have a brother. I'm Angela Kincaid McClure. I'm not your sister.”

“You're lying.” He spat the words at me. “I know who you are, and I can't stand quietly by watching while they turn you into a fucking whore.” I heard the pistol cock again. “Maybe you need to die too.”

Dusty yanked me backward just before the gun went off. The bullet shattered the glass in the window behind me. Rolling me over the top of him, he flung me onto the floor on the opposite side of the bed. I heard Dusty's cast hit the floor as he moved to attack Rufus with nothing but his bare hands. Shouts and running footsteps sounded in the hallway. Scrambling to my feet, I groped for the lamp on the nightstand, although I wasn't sure if light would help or not.

I was still debating this question when someone else who apparently thought differently bellowed, “Turn on the light, Angie!”

I flipped the switch just as Dusty launched himself at Rufus, using his cast like a club to knock Rufus's feet out from under him. Unfortunately, the momentum robbed him of his own footing, and he flipped over in midair like some bizarre karate leap gone terribly wrong, landing facedown on the floor. Rufus fell in the opposite direction, only to be pounced upon by Joe and Troy.

Where my father was in this melee, I had no idea, but I could hear him shouting. “Damnation! What the devil is going on here? Are you all drunk?”

Troy wrestled for control of the gun, banging Rufus's knuckles on the floor in a vigorous attempt to get him to drop it. Apparently beyond feeling any pain, Rufus held on despite everything Troy was dishing out.

Joe was more direct. Seizing Rufus by the hair, he yanked his head back and flattened him with a roundhouse punch to the jaw that knocked him out cold.

I ran around the end of the bed to where Dusty lay prostrate on the floor, his legs tangled up with Rufus's and his peachy little buns aimed right at the doorway. As I might have predicted, my father chose that particular moment to peer into the room.

“Good God, girl!” he thundered. “What the hell are you doing with a naked cowboy in your bedroom?”

The sheer irrelevance of his question struck me as hysterically funny. Dissolving into helpless laughter, I collapsed on the floor next to Dusty, who seemed to be recovering from his spectacular fall and was attempting to rise.

“Fixing to marry him, I guess.” Still shaking with a mixture of laughter and relief, I took Dusty's hand and helped him to sit up.

“Fuck!” Joe swore from out in the hallway, rubbing his bruised knuckles.

“That too,” I agreed, smiling at my darling Dusty. “Every twenty miles and twice whenever we get to wherever we decide to go on our honeymoon.”

“I guess I'll take that as a yes,” Dusty said, obviously recalling his proposal. “Although it sure took you long enough to tell me.” A carnal gleam lit his eyes as he appeared to realize what I'd meant by that. “How about we go somewhere like—oh, I dunno—Brazil, maybe?”

“Think you're up to it?” In his current state, he didn't appear to be capable of much at all.

“Maybe not, but I'll die trying,” he promised.

“Don't say that!” I exclaimed with a shudder. “I've had a hard enough time keeping you alive as it is.”

On that sobering note, I figured I'd better explain the situation to my father, who undoubtedly thought Rufus had been attempting to break up some sort of drunken orgy.

I nodded toward Rufus's inert form. “Dad, Rufus pretty much confessed to killing Cody, and he's also been trying to kill Dusty. Apparently, all this is because of something that must've happened to his sister.” I paused as another thought occurred to me. “Anyone have any idea how he knew Dusty was here with me? I mean, he might have guessed it on his own, but—”

“You can blame Bull for that.” Joe leaned heavily against the doorjamb, still massaging his hand. “He called Rufus wanting a ride home and let it slip that you and Dusty had left the bar together hours ago. When Rufus came looking for one of us to go after Bull, he realized Dusty wasn't in the bunkhouse. He went back to his room, saying he'd go and get Bull himself. I didn't think any more about it until I heard that shot coming from the house. Troy and I ran up here as fast as we could. Fortunately, Troy knew where to look for you since he'd…um…been here before. Sorry we didn't get here sooner, but we'd both gone to bed already and had to at least put our boots on.”

Chalk it up to my agitated state of mind, but it was only then that I realized neither Troy nor Joe had on anything but boots and briefs and also that Joe had a hickey the size of a quarter adorning the base of his neck. No wonder Dad had thought we were all drunk.

“You did great,” I assured them. “Of course, Dusty was doing pretty well on his own.” I hugged him tightly. “You saved
my
life this time, didn't you? I guess that makes us even.” Actually, I was still one up on him since that first shot would have undoubtedly killed him if I hadn't spoiled Rufus's aim. However, I chose not to mention it.

“Sort of,” he replied. “But I think it means you belong to me now.”

“Now, there's a moot point if I ever heard one,” I declared. “I—”

I didn't get the chance to complete that sentence because at that precise moment, the phone rang.

“Miss Angela,” Bull said when I answered the phone. “Is anyone comin' to get me? I called the bunkhouse again 'cause I was so rattled I forgot to tell Rufus to have them bring me some frickin' clothes when they came, but nobody answered the goddamn phone.”

“Well, Rufus
was
coming,” I said. “But he's been…delayed. Mind telling me why you need clothes?” I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Bull sounded pretty desperate, and for some inexplicable reason, I didn't want him to think I was laughing at him.

First
time
for
everything…

“That girl I was with turned out to be a goddamn hooker,” he exclaimed. “I didn't have the money to pay her—although I didn't tell her that until after I'd done her. I just figured she'd drive me home and I could pay her ass then, but you know what that stinkin' little cunt did? I got out of her car to take a piss, and she drove off and left me there with nothing but my shorts and my boots. The little shit got my clothes, my wallet, and my hat—although she threw my wallet out the window after she took all the money I had left. Now, why would she do a thing like that? I woulda paid her. Hell, I
always
pay.”

“Okay, okay,” I soothed. “Where are you?”

“The police station,” he replied. “The cops picked me up and wanted to charge me with indecent exposure until I told them my story. Now they're just keepin' me here until someone comes after me.”

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. “Let me get this straight. You told the police you'd stiffed a hooker and they're letting you
go
?” Somehow the justice of that scenario escaped me.

“Dammit, I didn't tell them she was a frickin' hooker.” By this time, he sounded more impatient than desperate. “I told them my girlfriend dumped me—I mean, it happened to Troy, didn't it? It could happen to me too.”

I was about to point out that he actually had to
have
a girlfriend before she could dump him, but somehow managed to refrain from commenting. “I don't suppose any of the police can hear this conversation, can they? Because if so, they're gonna know you lied.”