Maggie Shayne - Badland's Bad Boy Page 3
"I … um … don't think your wife liked me bothering you at home."
"My wife?" He blinked. "Oh, you mean Jessi? That's my baby sister. I don't have a wife."
She frowned and took a step backward. "That's funny…"
"What is?"
"The guy at the gas station over in town told me I could find the sheriff out here, where he lived with his wife and little boy." She narrowed her eyes until she was almost squinting at him. "Have I met you before? You look—"
"Nope. No chance of that. Listen, I didn't mean to mislead you. Garrett is the lawman, not me. But he's probably not even up yet, and I … sometimes help him out with things."
"Oh. Then you're not the sheriff."
He shook his head. "I'm his brother. Wes Brand, ma'am."
She studied his face, tilted her head. "You're Native American, aren't you?"
"Half," he told her.
"Comanche?" she asked, and he nodded. "Maybe you can help me, then. Look, what do you know about the site of that village I'm excavating?"
He shook his head. "Next to nothing." He lowered his eyes, and felt a twinge of guilt that made little sense. "I'm not as knowledgeable about my heritage as I should be, I suppose. But I'm trying to change that."
When he looked up again, there was a solemn understanding in her dark eyes, and they held his in a grip that wouldn't let go. A warm breeze stirred the dust in little whorls around his feet, and her hair danced in slow motion. "I'm … not, either," she said, very softly. "Very knowledgeable about … them."
"But you're an archaeologist."
She nodded and looked away.
Wes frowned. "I kinda figured you'd be an expert on the subject."
She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "I'm an expert on Native American cultures," she said, picking her words carefully, he thought. "Every one except the Comanches." She looked a little guilty when she said it.
"Why is that, Taylor?"
She looked up, met his eyes squarely. And he felt something … some kind of connection to her, as if he knew her … or should know her … or something.
The screen door creaked, then banged, and heavy-booted feet tramped down the steps. She turned to look at Garrett loping across the lawn with a stride that ate up the distance. Wes glimpsed his brother once, but his gaze was drawn right back to Taylor again. The definition of her cheekbones. Her small, proud chin, and strong jaw line. The way the sun painted her black hair with glimmering light as it climbed higher in the sky.
"Dr. McCoy," Garrett said when he reached her and clasped her hand in greeting.
"You must be Sheriff Brand," she said with an easy smile. Broad and white and stunning. Her eyes glowed when she smiled. If she'd felt anything just now, she was hiding it well. Either that or it had all been in Wes's mind. But he didn't think so.
Garrett sent a quick glance toward Wes, and Wes nodded. Garrett returned his attention to the doc. "Call me Garrett. I see you've already met Wes. Why don't you come on inside and join us for some breakfast, ma'am, and you can tell me what it is I can help you with."
She shook her head quickly. "Thanks, but I don't have time for all that. We had an incident out at the site on Emerald Flat last night, Sheriff, and I'm not sure what to do about it."
"An incident?" Garrett frowned worriedly.
Wes tried real hard to look innocent.
The doc opened her mouth, closed it again and shook her head. "It's going to sound a little crazy."
Garrett smiled at her, that big, gentle smile he used when he was trying to make smaller creatures feel comfortable around him, and not intimidated by his size. "I've heard crazy before," he said.
"Okay." She took off her glasses and polished the lenses with a tissue she pulled from her pocket. A way, Wes thought, of avoiding their eyes while she told them her crazy story. "You ever hear the legend the local Comanches have about a man they call Wolf Shadow?"
Garrett nodded. "Sure. We've all heard that one. No one really believes it anymore, but—"
"Well, last night Wolf Shadow was at the site."
Garrett's brows went up. "Come again?"
"He—or someone trying to impersonate him—rode up to the edge of the site on a black horse the size of … of that one over there." She pointed and nodded toward the horse grazing now in the paddock. Wes's heart fell to his feet, and he choked noisily.
Garrett frowned at the horse, then at his brother. He slammed Wes on the back, and nodded at Taylor to go on.
"He said we were desecrating sacred ground and that we should leave while we still could," she said.
"And?" Garrett asked. Wes had stopped choking, but he really didn't want to be here for this. He should have skinned out the minute he'd seen her coming.
"And nothing," she said. "He rode off. I was hoping you could come out to the site with me, see if you can make any sense out of this."
Garrett nodded. "I have a ton on my schedule today, Taylor," he said, calling her by her first name as easily and naturally as if she were an old friend. "And with my deputy off caring for his new baby half the time…" Garrett grinned a little lopsidedly when he mentioned his brand-new niece, then seemed to shake himself. "I'll get out there later on today and have a look around."
Taylor lowered her head. "I don't want you to just take a look around." She raised her head, met Garrett's eyes and slipped her glasses into her shirt pocket with deliberate motions. "Look, this scared me. I want someone up there with me in case this lunatic comes back."
Garrett frowned, and Wes felt more guilty by the minute.
"Did this guy threaten you in any way?" Garrett asked.
She shifted her stance and looked irritated. "I sort of took that 'leave while you still can' part as a threat."
"I don't blame you," Garrett said. "I just don't know that I can pack up and move onto the site to watch out for you. I've got a wife and a boy and a ranch to run, and right now I'm the only law in this town." He shook his head. "I'm sure you're not in any danger. I'll investigate today and—"
"Look, this might not seem very important to you, Sheriff Brand, but this dig represents a lot of hard prep work and research for me, and I'm not going to let some lunatic in a loincloth screw it up." She turned fast to face Wes. "What about you?"
He blinked. "What about me?"
"You said you help your brother out from time to time."
"You did?" Garrett blurted, but Taylor rushed right on.
"So how about camping at the site for a few nights to check this out?"
"Well, I … I mean, what I meant was—it's just that—"
"I want someone out there. I want some kind of investigation started and I want some form of protection."
"Now, ma'am, I'm not sure you're in need of any protection," Garrett said.
"Insane people are dangerous, Sheriff. And sane people do not paint their faces and play ghostly avenger in the middle of the night. Now, you can help me out with this, or … or I'll just go back into town, buy myself a rifle and the next time someone rides up to my site in the dark—"
"Now, hold on a minute!" Garrett lifted both hands defensively.
Taylor stopped talking and nodded. "I thought that might get your attention," she said in a calmer voice. Then she sighed hard, shook her head. "Look, I'm not going to go shooting at shadows, gentlemen, but I really am concerned. This shook me. Sheriff Brand, what if it was your wife or your little sister up there in a tent with no protection, and some lunatic was showing up at midnight with war whoops and veiled threats? Would you take this more seriously then?"
Garrett nodded. "You're right, and I'm sorry."
"I have two students with me up there," she told him. "I can't risk anything happening to them. And frankly … I doubt they'd be much help to me if this guy decided to get violent."
"I'll take care of it," Garrett began.
"No." Wes cleared his throat as they both looked his way. "No, I'll take care of it. In fact, I think you had the best idea, Doc."
"I'll pack up some gear and head out to the site," Wes said, instantly wondering if he would live to regret it. "Hang out there for a few days. Garrett, with Elliot and Ben here, you can get by without me for a short while."
"I don't know," Garrett said. Then he frowned. "Chelsea is always saying how she thinks you oughtta get in touch with your Comanche heritage, though. This might be something you ought to do."
"Chelsea's taking her psychology classes way too serious," Wes muttered, not bothering to tell his brother he'd been doing just that for the past year.
Garrett glanced at Taylor. "You realize, my brother isn't a lawman. But I'd trust him with my life. Have, a time or two, in fact, and I'm still here to tell about it."
"That's good enough for me," Taylor said.
Garrett finally nodded. "Good, then. It's settled." He slapped Wes's shoulder. "Thanks for jumping in like this, Wes. Little Bubba's toddling around into everything, and Chelsea's busy with the women's crisis center and her psych classes. We got cows ready to freshen and fence to repair. Those damned rustlers we caught in Mexico last year are coming to trial, and I have to testify. Jessi's busy with the new baby, and Lash is up nights so much with her that he's not worth much in the daylight these days, even if I can convince him to come into the office." He nodded, as if reassuring himself. "Yup, this is the perfect solution."
Wes glanced once again at Taylor McCoy, who stood looking at him with her big dark eyes. "All right, then," he said. "But don't be thinking you're gonna pin any badge on me, big brother, 'cause it's not gonna happen."
"Wouldn't dream of it," Garrett said. "This will be unofficial. Okay?"
Wes nodded. Garrett tipped his hat to the lady, and then headed out to the barns, leaving Wes alone with the woman once more. He faced her, suddenly uncomfortable, not sure what to say.
"I … appreciate this," she said. "I know it's a lot to ask, but—"
"It's the least I can do," Wes said. And it was. He was the one who'd scared the woman so badly, after all. "I'll come on out to the site later on. I need time to pack up some gear and I got a … an errand to run in town."
"All right," she said. But she didn't turn to go. He gave her a questioning glance, and she lowered her eyes. "Will you … be there before dark?"
Hell, she really was scared. He hadn't thought Wolf Shadow's appearance had shaken her in the least, but he'd been wrong. "Yeah," he said. "Well before dark. Promise."
She nodded. "Good," she said. "That's good."
Wes Brand had eyes that could burn holes right through her, she thought as she bounded over the rutted roads in her Jeep. He'd seemed a little unnerved by her presence. Or maybe it was her story that bothered him.
So what was it about him that bothered her?
There was something about him. Something that made her feel warm and jittery. But he also wore this aura like a glowing sign that flashed Stay Away to anyone who got too close. She pegged him as a loner.
And then she realized that she had been pegged that way, too. Most of her life. All through college and graduate studies, she'd immersed herself in her work to the exclusion of a social life, much less any romantic attachments. She'd attributed that to the need for focusing on her career. But she knew there was more to it. She knew what lay beneath her detachment. She just hadn't taken the time to examine it closely, or to try to work through it. Old hurts didn't matter. They had nothing to do with the present.
What made Wes Brand a loner? she wondered idly.
He was one beautiful man. Strikingly so. Made her think twice about having him come up to the site instead of his big but safe-looking brother. He could very easily become a distraction, which was utterly hilarious when she thought about it, because she'd never once met a man who could compete with her work for her attention.
Well, there was a first time for everything. But she could handle it. She'd just put on her professor face, and keep a cool, clinical distance between the two of them.
If only she could do the same with the mysterious Wolf Shadow. But it was harder with him, because he was a phantom. A ghost. And last night after he'd gone, he'd returned to her in dreams no cool, clinical scientist ought to be having.
Pretty strange, she thought. Good ol' Solitary McCoy feeling … oddly drawn to two different men in the space of twenty-four hours, when she usually didn't even notice men.
Very strange. She felt a little worried about that as she headed back to the site.
"Well, well, well," Jessi chirped when Wes went back inside. She was sitting at the table, but he had no doubt she'd been watching him with Taylor McCoy the whole time.
"She's got to be the most stunningly beautiful woman I've ever seen," Chelsea said. Garrett's wife gave Wes a mischievous grin and a wink. "Not that you probably noticed."
"She looks like Pocahontas did in the Disney movie," Jessi said.
"Since when do you watch Disney movies?" was the only safe comeback he could think of.
Little Bubba came running across the floor, arms flailing as if he were a little bird trying to fly, and when he reached Chelsea's legs, he hugged them hard, laughing out loud.
Chelsea scooped him up in her arms and kissed his face. "You little speed demon," she said. "You just learned to walk and now all you do is run!"
"Wun!" Bubba said.
"So, Wes," Jessi said, "you gonna tell me what's goin' on with you and the pretty professor?"
"Nothing," he told his little sister. "And that's the last time I want to hear about it." He gave them a warning look, shook his head. "I gotta pack." He tramped through the house, heading for the stairs. Jessi followed. So did Chelsea, with Bubba anchored on her hip.
"So where you going, then?" Jessi asked.
"Garrett wants me to camp out at the site for a few days. They've had some trouble. He'll fill you in. God knows you won't leave him alone until he does."
Jessi laughed. "So you're going camping with a drop-dead gorgeous woman who looks at you like you're a rare steak and she's coming off a hunger strike—and nothing's going to happen between you two?"
He pointed his finger at her like a gun and cocked his thumb. "Bull's-eye," he told her. "And she didn't look at me like anything."
Jessi turned to Chelsea with a huge grin. "Isn't it great, Chelsea? He's in denial."
"Yeah, and he couldn't even see the way he was looking at her," Chelsea said. "Like a sailor lost at sea looks at a distant island."
"Ooh, that's a good one," Jessi said. "Or like a drowning man looks at a life preserver."
"Or like a brown bear looks at a honeycomb."
The two women laughed out loud. Wes just groaned and went into his room to pack.
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
Taylor glanced up from the screen through which she'd been sifting dirt, her gaze drawn by something she couldn't have named. She half expected to see Wolf Shadow looming above her, closer and more real than before. But instead she saw Wes Brand with a duffel bag in his hand and a pack slung over one sturdy shoulder. In his tight jeans and Western shirt, that black Stetson shadowing his face, he looked more cowboy than Indian, and for some reason that thought made her hackles rise slightly in resentment.
She shook the feeling away with a puzzled frown, handed the screen to the nearest pair of hands and nearly dropped it when the student didn't react.
Swinging her head around sharply, Taylor saw the girl beside her staring at Wes Brand as if he were the second coming or something. Her brown eyes swam, and her lips curved in a dreamy smile.
"Kelly? Do you mind?"
Kelly snapped out of it long enough to focus briefly on Taylor, take the screen from her hands and go right back to staring at the man. Tay
lor shook her head in frustration, brushed the dirt from her hands and climbed out of the square, roped-off area where she'd been digging. "Thanks for coming," she told him, and she was extremely careful to keep her voice cool and her expression professional. She didn't want to look the way Kelly did. Not in this lifetime.
"No problem." He shifted the pack on his shoulder a little. It looked heavy. Her gaze lingered on his face—bronzed skin, hard features, that hands-off look he wore. His eyes gleamed. And they kept dipping to focus on her mouth, then jerking up again.
She cleared her throat. "This is Kelly, by the way."
"Kelly Mallone," her assistant said, dropping the screen too hard, and reaching a dirty hand out to shake Wes's.
"Wes Brand," he replied.
"Mr. Brand will be camping with us for a few days," Taylor explained. "In case our … visitor shows up again."
Kelly's lashes fluttered. "I'll feel so much safer now," she breathed.
Wes's jaw went a little tighter, and he averted his gaze from Kelly's blatantly interested one. So his way with the ladies bothered him, did it?
Then he looked at Taylor, and she schooled her features to cool professionalism again. "I'll … uh … show you where to put that stuff." He said nothing, so she set off up the slight incline to the flat area where three dome tents dotted the ground. The sticky heat seemed worse somehow than it had been only moments before, and she wiped the damp hairs from her cheeks, and shrugged. "Just pick a spot, I guess."
"Which tent is yours?"
She whirled to face him, eyes going wide.
He smiled slightly, almost as if he knew what sort of thoughts had jolted through her head just for an instant. "I want to pitch mine close to it, Doc."
"W-why?" Okay, so while she was at it, why didn't she ask herself why her stomach was clenching and relaxing like an overstimulated heart muscle?
"The kid I saw when I got here told me you were the only one who saw this … ghost. I want to be sure I'm within shoutin' distance if you see it again."
"Oh." She pushed another loose tendril of hair behind her ear. "What kid?" Did it matter? No, but she hated awkward silences.