Last Stand Ranch (10 page)

Their workday done, Denise and Raymond left through the back door and headed for the cottage and their own dinner.

Claudia, Olivia, Jonathan and Elijah shared a quiet meal. Nobody wanted to talk about Ted Kurtz or the shooting, and for the moment Elijah left the topic alone. After they finished eating, Olivia sighed and pulled her phone from her pocket. “I should probably make some phone calls I've been avoiding. It's just after seven o'clock. Everybody should be home from work by now.” She stood up and pushed in her chair. “If you want to leave the dishes, I'll clean up when I'm done.”

Elijah watched her walk toward the den. She was moving in a kind of wobbly way. She'd done too much today.

“Thanks for taking her to the job interview,” Claudia said.

“My pleasure.” And he meant it—despite the occasional grumpiness, he enjoyed being around her. Elijah thought of her laugh back at the retirement center. Her kindness as she spoke to Arthur. The strength she showed in sharing with him about her family and the abusive relationship she'd been in. She was a strong, resilient woman.

Just then Olivia laughed.

“Who's she talking to?” Elijah asked.

Claudia raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

Jonathan snickered. Elijah glared at him until he stopped.

“Just curious.” Olivia hadn't talked much about her life in Las Vegas. Had she left someone special behind? A man, maybe?

“She told me she was going to call her parents tonight.”

“Good.” Elijah stood and started collecting the plates. Maybe somehow this whole experience could help repair her relationship with her parents. Bring them closer together.

“After she talks to them, she mentioned that she's going to call a friend she used to work with at the women's shelter. A lawyer who volunteered there. She might have some news or ideas about who could be stalking Olivia other than Kurtz.”

Jonathan stood and started helping Elijah clear the table. “That girl's been through a lot,” Claudia said. “I'm afraid she's in too much of a hurry to get back to living a normal life.”

Elijah thought the same thing. A few minutes later Olivia walked into the kitchen. Jonathan was filling the sink with soap and water while Claudia poured cat and dog food into colorful bowls. Elijah figured it was as good a time as any to talk about security. Jonathan would be sleeping on the sofa by the front door tonight. Elijah would take the daybed in the small office off the kitchen, near the back door. Both men would be armed.

“Stay away from the windows,” he warned both women. “When you turn on the lights in your rooms, keep them low so you don't cast an obvious shadow.”

Claudia nodded soberly.

Olivia began to chew on her bottom lip. Her phone chimed and she looked at the screen. “It's a text from my friend, Vanessa. I left a voice mail for her earlier. She should be home in a few minutes and she'll call me.”

“Don't tell her too much about where you are,” Elijah warned.

“Vanessa's the least of my worries.”

Jonathan turned to Claudia. “Why don't you put your feet up and watch a movie? Take your mind off things. I'll take care of the dishes.”

“Fine by me.” Claudia settled down in the den with all three dogs and one cat. Elijah walked through the house, closing the blinds and turning down the lights. He also took the opportunity to bring in his rifle from the truck.

Jonathan had finished the dishes and Olivia was on her phone in the kitchen when Elijah came back, so he walked through the house again, double-checking that all the doors were bolted and the windows were locked. When he returned to the kitchen, Olivia was off the phone.

“Vanessa's booking a flight to Flagstaff.” Olivia offered him a tired smile. “She'll be here tomorrow.”

Elijah felt a low-level internal alarm go off. “I hope you told her to keep quiet about your location.”

Olivia scoffed. “She's not going to say anything to anybody.” She shoved the kitchen's swinging door open and walked toward the dining area at the front of the house. At the same time a light flickered outside. Someone was in the driveway.

“Get down!” Elijah grabbed Olivia's arm and pulled her beneath the wooden dining table. Then he sprang up to flick off the lights and grab his pistol from the end table where he'd set it. “Jon!” Standing to the side of the window, Elijah moved a corner of the curtain to peek outside.

Jonathan ran in from the den, gun in his hand. “What is it?”

Olivia's phone rang. She drew in an audible, ragged breath. “Looks like Deputy Bedford is calling.” Her voice was shaky. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

Elijah's heart pounded in his chest. “Get Aunt Claudia!” he ordered his brother.

“It's all right,” Olivia called out, starting to crawl out from beneath the table. “Deputy Bedford is outside. The lights are from his patrol car.”

A knock sounded at the door. Furious, Elijah strode over to yank it open. “Maybe you could call
before
you drive up next time.”

“I can do that,” Bedford said evenly. He stepped into the foyer and stopped, nodding at Jonathan. “You two are staying here? Not a bad idea.”

Claudia walked in from the den. “Good evening, Deputy. Is something wrong?”

“Sorry to bother you. I'm at the end of my shift and on my way home. I stopped by because I have some information I'm authorized to share with you.” He turned to Olivia.

Elijah stepped up behind her. Just as a reminder he was there for her and she wasn't alone in this.

“The Feds have found ties between Kurtz and at least two professional killers,” Bedford said. “One is named Lucas Powers. He works for a mobster Kurtz has defended several times and he's currently under surveillance in Los Angeles. The other assassin is only known via electronic media intercepts. The Feds have assigned him the colorful code name of Sidewinder. Right now there are no known details about Sidewinder. He, or she, is a complete mystery.”

Elijah set his hand on Olivia's shoulder. He could feel her trembling.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Olivia said quietly.

“You're welcome.” He gave a slight nod. “Good night.” Bedford left and Jonathan locked the door behind him.

“Professional killer,” Jonathan muttered as they all stepped back into the living room.

Olivia gasped, her face suddenly red and her eyes brimming with tears. Claudia wrapped an arm around her and pulled her to her side.

“It's all right. Elijah's a professional, too,” Jonathan said.

Elijah looked at him.

“Professionally trained soldier,” Jonathan quickly added.

Olivia turned to Elijah. Fear haunted her eyes and tears rolled down her cheeks. His determination to protect her became an absolute conviction. The sheriff's department was doing all they could to hunt down the shooter. Until they succeeded, Elijah would stay by her side.

TEN

O
livia found herself drawn toward wakefulness from the depths of dreamless sleep. Something tugged at her, prodding her senses and demanding her attention.

She had a fleeting, watery image of a dark forest. Tents and lanterns and the scent of a campfire. The
very
strong scent of a campfire.

Aware that she was awake, eyes not yet open, she rolled over in bed and stretched. Strangely, she still smelled the campfire. Her eyes flew open as the terrifying realization exploded like a star.
Fire!

She sat up and looked around her bedroom. The small lamp by her bed was still on. The book she'd been reading had slipped to the floor. She was still dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She looked to the window where a sinister orange light rippled and waved at her through the spaces between the slats in the blinds.

After Deputy Bedford left and she'd had a minute to just sit, her injured shoulder had started to throb. Elijah was right; she'd overdone it, but there was no way she'd admit that to him.

She'd taken a painkiller and watched a little bit of a movie with Aunt Claudia until her eyelids had gotten heavy. Then she'd gone upstairs to read. She must have fallen asleep.

Now she quickly got off the bed and strode over to the window to yank open the blinds.

The shed she'd worked in earlier was burning, surrounded by wiggling orange flames. Gray smoke speckled with glowing embers swirled and billowed into the night sky.

A fire department water tanker rumbled by the side of the house, firefighters already jumping off and jogging ahead toward the fire. The sensor-activated lights outside the bigger buildings were on, but the smoke was so thick it was hard to see anything that wasn't burning.

A couple pickup trucks drove past the house and parked near a barn. The occupants hurried out and grabbed shovels and rakes from the truck beds. Volunteer firefighters rushing to help.

Olivia needed to get out there and help, too.

She grabbed a pair of shoes off the floor and raced down the hall to Claudia's room to make sure she was okay.

“Aunt Claudia!” Olivia pounded on the door. “Aunt Claudia!” No answer. Fear flared through her chest and she pounded a few more times before opening the door.

A lamp glowed on a nightstand, showing Claudia's three pampered rescue dogs huddled on the rumpled bed. Otherwise, the room was empty.

Olivia pulled the door shut and headed for the stairs.

Several lamps were on downstairs and faint traces of smoke hovered in the air. She jogged to the kitchen, following the sound of voices.

Jonathan and Claudia were in the kitchen, talking while staring through the glass door at the flames.

“What happened?” Olivia cried out.

“Fire broke out maybe fifteen minutes ago,” Claudia said, her voice a strange monotone. “Raymond called it in. Elijah was still awake, heard the commotion and went outside. Jonathan came and got me.”

Oh, no! Poor Aunt Claudia
.

“Why didn't anyone wake me?” Olivia demanded. “Let me get my shoes on.” They were still in her hands. She grabbed a chair and plopped down. “I can go out there and help.”

“I don't think so,” Jonathan said quietly.

Olivia's head snapped up. “Why not?”

“Elijah told me to keep an eye on you and Aunt Claudia. And he specifically told me to keep
you
inside. The fire could be a diversion to get you to go out into the darkness where someone could grab you.”

“You think this could be because of me?” Olivia asked, her rush of adrenaline suddenly bottoming out. And then a terrible realization struck her. “I left the light on,” she whispered in horror.

“It's just a building,” Claudia spoke calmly, barely acknowledging the anguish in Olivia's confession. “It can be replaced. But I am going to go check on my horses. We might need to move them.”

Tears formed in the corners of Olivia's eyes. “I'm so sorry.”

Claudia turned to her. “You didn't do this—it isn't your fault. Pull yourself together, honey. There isn't time for that.”

For a moment Olivia could only stare at her great-aunt. Claudia's emotional and spiritual strength in the midst of a potential catastrophe was stunning.

“Don't even think about running away,” Claudia added, her gaze so piercing Olivia felt as if her aunt was looking right through her. “This ranch is as good a place as any to make your stand. And don't think for a moment that I'm some feeble old thing who can't take care of herself. You and I are sticking together, come what may. Agreed?”

Olivia's jaw dropped slightly. Then, realizing Claudia was waiting for a response, she nodded her head. “Yes, ma'am.”

Elijah stepped up to the storm door, yanked it open and walked in. White ash had settled all over him, cut by rivulets of sweat. He pulled off a helmet one of the volunteers must have given him and rubbed his fingers over his short, sweat-soaked hair.

“How bad does it look?” Claudia asked.

“The fire's obviously close, but it won't jump to the house. We're making sure of that. Mom and Dad are moving your horses away from the smoke and over to our place until we're certain none of the embers will start another fire. Whatever you had in that shed is lost.”

“I don't care about the shed.”

“Mark and Linda are heading a crew to put out any spot fires that pop up around the corral or the stables,” Elijah added.

Claudia blew out a puff of air. “I need to get out there and have a look around. See what I can do.” She squared her shoulders, shoved open the back door and walked outside.

Olivia turned to Elijah. “It's my fault,” she said. “I left the light on in the shed. It must have shorted out and caused the fire.”

“That's not what happened. The light was still burning when Raymond and I first went out there and tried to put out the flames. We could smell kerosene.”

“I must have kicked over—”

“No.” He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Someone had latched the door from outside. Dragged a section of an old plow in front of it. I think the shooter thought you were in there.”

“He saw me earlier?” The realization made her knees start to buckle, but Elijah held her up.

“After you went upstairs, I went out there to get the gloves you were worried about. Yeah, you'd left the light on. But I left it on, too, when I came back to the house. I figured I'd go back out a little later and finish cleaning up. Next thing I knew, I heard Raymond hollering.”

Elijah's hands were still on Olivia's shoulders and she leaned into him a little. That solid, self-certain way he had seeped into her and brought her a tiny measure of peace.

She needed it because it was still her fault. And it looked as though the torment was never going to end.

* * *

Elijah woke up on the narrow bed in the office off Claudia's kitchen feeling as if he'd chewed on nails all night.

The taste and smell of smoke still lingered in his nose and mouth, like stale water and ashes. And he'd only gotten a couple hours of sleep. Fitful sleep, at that.

The fire was out. Everybody was okay. The grounds behind the house were pretty well cleaned up. But worry for Olivia had needled him all night long. Images of what could have happened would flash through his mind and wake him.

Eventually, he'd fallen asleep for a couple of hours. But now the sun was coming up and it was time to get moving. He needed a cup of coffee. He also needed a plan to get through all his responsibilities for the dawning day.

Before anything else, though, he sat on the edge of his bed, closed his eyes and bowed his head to pray. It was the only way he could keep going, the only way he could do what he had to do. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago.

The coffeepot in the kitchen still held some of the leftover coffee Claudia had brewed for the firefighters last night. He was tempted to pour some of that into a mug and microwave it. Bad coffee and stale food offered a strange comfort. Maybe they were a reminder of days past, telling him how much worse things could be. Or maybe they just got him in the mood to prepare for battle.

In the end, he dumped out the old coffee and started a fresh pot. Eventually the others would wander in, and they'd want some. He grabbed one of Claudia's homemade muffins left out on the counter. She and Denise had pulled out every baked good they could find from every cabinet and freezer in the house and the cottage to make sure everyone who'd showed up to help fight the fire got a snack before they left.

Predictably, the cherry-pecan muffin was stale. But it hit the spot. While he chewed and watched the coffeepot gurgle, he thought about last night, mentally reviewing everything that had happened. What could he have done differently? What
should
he have done differently?

He thought about Olivia. He thought about her a lot. It was getting harder and harder not to. And that was a problem.

Plenty of people talked to him about “moving on” from his experiences in the army, and from the guilt he felt over coming home whole when so many were badly injured or didn't survive at all. His dad, his mom, his pastor and Arthur, of course, told him that he shouldn't dwell on the past—not if it kept him from living his life. But moving on, living a “normal” life, would mean leaving his fallen comrades behind. Letting their memory fade. And he would not do that.

He shook his head. Even if he was willing to open up enough to try for a relationship, who said Olivia wanted someone like him, anyway? His scars weren't only on the outside. Right now she was afraid. It was natural for her to feel drawn to a man who was willing to help her. He was not the kind of man to take advantage of a vulnerable woman.

And how well did he really know her, anyway?

He plucked one of the dirty coffee mugs out of the sink, washed it, poured himself some coffee and forced his thoughts away from Olivia and back to the events of last night.

The first he'd known of the fire was when he'd heard Raymond yelling and then pounding on the kitchen door. Elijah had been on Claudia's computer, ordering supplies for his ranch. He'd yanked open the kitchen door and seen flames from the direction of the shed.

Denise had stumbled out of the cottage, talking into her phone, having already dialed 911.

Jonathan had run outside and Elijah had barked at him to stay in the house and keep an eye on Claudia and Olivia. Then he'd gone out with Raymond to turn on some garden hoses and try to keep the flames from spreading.

The shooter must have seen Olivia out there earlier. Maybe he had heard Elijah go in for Olivia's gloves. He must have assumed Olivia had returned to the shed to work for a while so he had gone to get the kerosene, shutting and blocking the door without looking inside to see no one was there before setting the fire.

Elijah took another sip of coffee while a question formed in his mind. What had Raymond heard or seen that made him aware of the fire? What, exactly, had woken him up? He would need to ask him.

The floorboards squeaked and Elijah looked over to see Olivia pushing open the swinging door between the kitchen and the dining room. Just before the door swung shut, he caught a glimpse of Jonathan sprawled on the living room couch, mouth hanging open, looking like a goofball.

Olivia was still wearing the jeans and T-shirt she'd had on last night. She must have collapsed into bed fully clothed, just as Elijah had done. Her hair was tied back in a disheveled ponytail.

Elijah stepped away from her and leaned against the counter. “Coffee?”

She nodded.

He washed out a coffee mug from the sink and filled it for her. When he turned around, she was rotating the arm of her injured shoulder.

“Looks like you're getting your range of motion back.”

She reached for the mug he offered her and took a couple of sips. “Yeah. It feels a lot better. I go back to the doctor in a few days and he'll tell me if I need physical therapy.”

“How'd you sleep?”

She shrugged. “I don't remember.”

“That's usually a good sign.”

She looked into his eyes. Then her gaze shifted. He could tell she was looking at the scars on his face.

“From an IED,” he said. “Improvised explosive device.”

“Does it bother you to talk about it?”

“Not especially.” There were things he didn't want to talk about. When that was the case, he had no problem slamming the door shut on the topic.

“It had to hurt,” she said.

“I lived through it. Not everybody did.”

“I'm sorry to hear that.” She paused and looked at him, as if maybe she expected him to have something else to say about the subject. He didn't. But it was nice to know she would be willing to listen. Sometimes he did need to talk and not everybody could take hearing what he had to say.

He watched her walk over and pick up one of the muffins on the counter. She ate a bite, and then turned to him. “These things are stale.”

“Yeah, but it's a good kind of stale.”

She smiled. “Yeah, it is.”

They stood there sipping their coffee and finishing their stale muffins in companionable silence.

Olivia poured him some more coffee, refilled her own mug, and then sat down on a round stool in the corner of the kitchen. “This can't go on,” she said quietly.

Immediately his senses sharpened. “What, exactly?”

She looked down. “I can't keep disrupting everybody's life.”

He watched her reach up to run her fingers through her hair. She felt around at the unkempt ponytail, pulled off the band holding it together and retied it.

Then she looked directly at him, studying his face again. It was somewhere between unnerving and intriguing when she did that. “I know you have a life and work to do at your ranch. Things to do besides follow me around.”