Run Wild (34 page)

“I don’t think this picture is going back in this frame,” Natasha muttered.

“Nope.” Trent brushed away dust and cardboard remnants but didn’t try taking the picture away from the glass covering it. “There’s something written there, but it’s completely illegible.”

“Maybe this will help.” Natasha reached into her coat pocket and pulled out her phone.

“Do you have a program on that thing that helps you read old penmanship?” he teased.

“Sort of.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

He wanted to tap it with his finger and actually moved his hand so he wouldn’t touch her. If Natasha noticed, she didn’t react.

He turned his attention to her phone. “What do you have there?”

Natasha relaxed her features. If it bothered her that he wasn’t flirting with her, she offered no indication. Instead, tapping her finger against the screen of her phone, she made the image of a flashlight appear.

“Nothing too amazing,” she said, her tone serious. Then tapping the flashlight, she turned the damn thing on.

“Who would have thought?” Trent wouldn’t say he felt small town, but he was definitely impressed.

“It’s how I saw in the cabin up in the mountains,” she informed him.

Natasha held the bright beam over the back side of the picture. They read out loud together.

“‘Nellie Burrows. May 20, 1920, to August 13, 1950. You will always be loved.’”

*   *   *

“Do you think Nellie Burrows has anything to do with Carl Williams’ death?” Natasha asked after they left the bank. She couldn’t shake the wave of sadness that had descended on her after she read the back of the picture.

“There’s no way to know at this point.” Trent had both hands on the steering wheel and focused ahead on the road. He hadn’t looked at her since they’d left the bank.

Natasha stared ahead as well, holding in a sigh. Ever since they’d had words at his office, Trent had turned into a hard, impossible-to-read, cold bastard. The only thing clear from his hardened features was that he didn’t like hearing her say she’d never submit. But why start something she couldn’t finish?

They slowed when the road curved and the rocky, high meadows turned hillier. She remembered this road from her first night when she almost ran into the dead buck and ended up with a flat tire.

Natasha had already decided that after they finished talking to the Burrowses, she would get a room and see out this investigation from a safe distance. But how far away from Trent Oakley was a safe distance?

He’d “gotten under her skin.” Natasha had never quite understood that expression before. Both of her cousins had fallen hard for women while tracking criminals. Aunt Haley and Uncle Greg both had used that expression when Marc and Jake found reasons to stay in another town and investigate with the ladies they’d met. Now each of them had settled down, found an awesome woman, and seemed to be really happy.

Was that what was happening to her? If it was, why wasn’t she happy? She wanted to turn around and punch Trent. She wanted to yell at him to quit his games and talk to her. She wanted to run as far away as she could until she felt normal inside again.

There was no way she could be experiencing what her cousins did when they met their ladies. If she were, she’d be happy right now. Instead she was on edge, her stomach was twisted in knots, and a dull headache was threatening.

Trent’s phone rang and she shifted, watching as he pulled a Bluetooth from one of the cup holders in his console and answered while keeping one hand resting on his steering wheel.

“Oakley,” he grunted without preamble.

It was fairly impressive that a man who held on so firmly to his nonconformist attitude when it came to technology managed two cell phones and knew how to work a Bluetooth.

“Yup,” he said, his eyes peeled to the road ahead. “Nope. Nothing is wrong. Just wanted to make sure I’m covering all bases.”

He was serious, although his expression was relaxed. Natasha could barely make out a man’s voice through the earpiece, but she couldn’t catch what he said. She fidgeted in her seat, studied her nails, which she hadn’t done since arriving in Weaverville, and stared at the road ahead. It was impossible not to eavesdrop on the conversation with Trent right next to her, but the way he’d closed down on her since leaving the office, she felt as if she shouldn’t.

“You heard right,” he said after another brief pause. “No, nothing like that.” For the first time there was a brief chuckle, or was it a snort?

Natasha found herself watching Trent. Not only was he captivating, by far the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on, there wasn’t anything else in the truck to look at other than him. And damn it, she was in the truck with him, by invitation she reminded herself. So what if she listened to his call? If he didn’t like it, he could take her back to her truck. She’d go see the Burrowses on her own.

“Sounds good. I know where you are. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” Trent didn’t say good-bye but hung up, pulling the Bluetooth from his ear and dropping it back in the cup holder.

We? She definitely picked up on that word. “Who were you talking to?” she asked the minute he hung up. If he’d said “we,” then whoever it was knew she was with Trent.

“Jim Burrows.” He slowed the Suburban and pulled off to the edge of the road.

“What are you doing?”

“Turning around. He’s out dealing with some cattle and suggested we come talk to him there. You don’t have a problem trudging through a field, do you?” For the first time since they’d left, Trent’s eyes glowed when he looked at her.

He thought she wouldn’t be able to handle getting a bit dirty.

“Bring it on, cowboy,” she slurred, giving him a harsh look. She’d show him she could handle his world as well as she handled hers.

*   *   *

The wind blew hard on the high grounds and Natasha grabbed her hair at her nape, twisted it, and tucked it into her coat. Trent kept a pretty good clip as he worked his way over uneven ground, around gigantic cow patties, and up a hill. All he’d done when they’d finally parked was ask if she was ready. When she nodded, he had taken off. Natasha would be damned if she let him leave her behind. And something told her he would, too.

At the top of the hill, Natasha forgot about keeping up. She paused, gulped in the frozen air filled with a mixture of livestock smells, the earth, and something carried down from the mountains that made breathing this air all worthwhile. She stared, awestruck, at her surroundings. The Trinity Alps were breathtaking, rugged and dangerous looking, and looming closer than she’d seen them since being here.

Trent had started down the side of the hill and she turned, following him, although not as concerned about returning to his side. Once again the tranquil beauty of the land around her in this part of the world settled her insides. If he wanted to be grumpy, that was his business. She watched her footing, following him, but continued glancing at the mountains around her.

When she reached the bottom of the side of the hill, Trent had joined several other men. She could only imagine what directions he’d been given for him to know exactly how to find these men. Two men leaned against a low wooden fence that ran across the high meadow and disappeared around another large hill on the other side of a bunch of cattle.

What was a bunch of cattle called?

They had exchanged greetings before she reached them. Natasha watched Trent shake hands with a large man wearing a cowboy hat. He nodded to the two other men, each of them wearing a ball cap and standing on either side of the man in the cowboy hat.

“I’ll keep you posted on that one,” Trent said, and the look he gave her when she paused, stood next to him, and stared back, then looked at the other three men curiously, could only be defined as mischievous.

One of the men coughed, covering his mouth quickly, and looked down at the ground. She couldn’t see the other guy’s face because he pulled his ball cap low. But the man in the middle, with the cowboy hat, tipped it back and gave her an appraising once-over.

“Good day, little lady,” he said, nodding. “Looks like you were enjoying my land.”

“This is the most breathtaking view I’ve ever seen in my life.” She grinned at him and gestured toward the mountains. Trent hadn’t lectured her about remaining quiet as he had before going to the bank. When he narrowed his gaze on her she turned away before he could deliver the silent warning. “I take it you’re Jim Burrows.” She held out her hand.

“Yes, ma’am. And you’re George King’s daughter.”

“That’s right.” His hand was calloused, large, and cold. But his expression seemed focused and his pale blue eyes danced as if he laughed a lot. “I’m Natasha King,” she told him.

“Well, I sure hope your daddy is found innocent,” he said, sounding as if he meant it.

“Me, too.” She lowered her hand when he released it but already felt good vibes off the large rancher. He didn’t seem to be the type of man she pictured would plot and carry out such a terrible murder, and that of his son, illegitimate or otherwise, if what she’d been told was true. “I’m very sorry about what happened to Carl Williams,” she added.

Natasha swore she heard a low growl coming from Trent but ignored him and kept her attention on Jim. The man’s face sobered immediately.

“Most god-awful thing I’ve ever seen done to another living creature, man or animal, in my entire life.” He cleared his throat and adjusted his hat on his head. Then, looking at Trent, he said, “I don’t want you stopping until the son of a bitch who killed my boy burns in hell for his sins. You hear me, Sheriff?”

“I plan on finding him,” Trent said just as seriously. “There were just a few things I wanted to clear up with you. You’re busy. I see that. This won’t take time.”

“Don’t rush any part of your investigation on my part, Sheriff,” Jim said. Then looking at the men on either side of them, he grumbled under his breath, his words barely audible, as he instructed them on what to do with the cattle.

At least Natasha was pretty sure that was what he told them to do. Both men nodded, grunted good-byes to Trent, and tipped their hats at Natasha; then they were heading along the length of the fence in the direction of the grazing cows.

“Got herds grazing on each other’s land,” Jim muttered to Trent, who nodded in understanding.

Natasha wasn’t sure what he meant, but she now remembered what a bunch of cows were called—a herd. That’s right.

“Post is a good neighbor, best a man could ask for. Hell, I’ve known him most of my life.” Jim had started walking along the fence in the direction the men had gone, and Trent fell in line along side him. Natasha wasn’t sure she liked following behind, as if she were tagging along and not meant to be part of the conversation. She smiled, though, when Jim paused and turned, looking over his shoulder at her. “And I know you’d be surprised to hear it,” he added, winking at her. “But that is over sixty years now.”

Jim was a natural flirt. That was her definition of someone who flirted with everyone, it just being part of their nature. Now if he graduated to “serious flirt” he’d be the type of man who might follow through on the attention he bestowed on a lady. She thought of his two bastard children and decided Jim probably definitely qualified as a serious flirt. Possibly he wasn’t showing his true colors because she was young enough to be his granddaughter and because she’d arrived with Trent. She was fairly certain Trent wouldn’t have given any indication they were together.

Which they weren’t. Not really.

“I’ve never had a problem with the Posts over at Excelsior Ranch. Dan Post and I have a situation and we’re going to have to work it out. His cattle keep ending up in with mine, and mine tend to get through the fence and mingle with his. Gets to be a problem when you’ve got a bull mingling in with each other’s cattle.” He glanced at Natasha again, giving her a sly grin.

She wasn’t positive she got his meaning but guessed it might mean his and his neighbor’s livestock might breed with each other.

“You guess what that problem might be?” Jim paused and turned, which forced Trent to do the same, and when he looked at her so did Trent.

She might as well go for broke. “My guess is you have to decide who claims the newborns.”

Jim Burrows had a deep, resonating laugh. “Told you,” he said, and slapped Trent on the shoulder. “That’s right, little lady. And like I just said, we don’t want the problem of deciding who owns which calves.”

Natasha wondered what Jim had told Trent, but when she looked at him he was squinting at the fence. “Looks like your property line is held up well with the fencing,” he said, making it sound as if he’d heard this dilemma discussed before. Was part of his duties as sheriff making sure ranchers didn’t try claiming each other’s cows or calves?

“We’ll get it worked out.” Jim squinted under his cowboy hat, facing Trent. “Now you didn’t come out here to check on our property line issues. Talk to me about Carl. What have you learned, Sheriff?” Jim’s voice had deepened and his demeanor sobered.

Natasha saw the charming side of the older rancher but also saw the man who could run and maintain a ranch this size and earn it the reputation of being the largest and most successful cattle ranch in Northern California, if not the entire Northwest. She wasn’t sure about the latter but suspected Jim Burrows would give any other rancher a run for his money.