Page 4 of Deadly Evidence
Never would she regret the birth of her beloved daughter, but she wouldn’t risk making a foolish mistake again, either.
He searched her face. “What’s kept you here? It’s lonely. Isolated. Running this place must be hard work for a woman with just an old man and a boy to help out.”
The sympathy and curiosity in his eyes rankled, and she had to take a steadying breath before answering.
Over the years, too many people had assumed she would give up. She’d had to fight for respect and prove herself many times over to her ranch hands, her customers, and even the community.
“This place is my daughter’s legacy—and for her children’s children. It’s our heritage, and I’m not a quitter.”
Not like my mom was.
On some of her worst days, when the hard work and struggle seemed almost insurmountable, she had only to remember hermom’s breezy departure on the arm of a flashy rodeo cowboy to feel renewed resolve.
At the age of ten, she’d been devastated.
At thirty-two, she was a far stronger woman than she might have been.
She watched him study his notebook. “When do you want to start?”
“Today.” He tucked the notebook back into his pocket. “You reported an increase in late-night traffic across your land. Anything else since then?”
“A prickly, uneasy feeling that I’m being watched, when I go out to check our broodmares or cattle at night. Phone call hang-ups.”
Situations for which she could provide no solid evidence and which he’d probably attribute to paranoia.
He frowned. “You and your daughter need to stay close to home until this is over.”
Anna felt a tremor of anger. At him, for assuming he could give her orders.
At the drug traffickers who had changed her life in so many ways.
“My daughter will stay close by, of course. But I’ve been dealing with this situation for a long time, and my ranch doesn’t run itself.”
“I don’t want anyone here getting hurt.” His eyes locked on hers, telegraphing exactly how serious he was. “Be careful. Report any unusual activity that you see or hear, but take no action yourself. Deal?”
She’d grown up hunting coyotes with her rifle, and had spent a lifetime wrangling cattle and training horses.
For the past thirteen years, she’d managed this ranch and earned the grudging respect of the proud Mexican cowboys sheemployed. But she hadn’t been able to stem the tide of drug runners crossing her land.
Would there be even greater danger now? Higher risks for her family and ranch hands?
She hesitated, then nodded. “Deal.”
Feeling the firm confidence of Brady’s handshake, more like that of an executive than a cowboy, she hoped she hadn’t made a big mistake by setting this all in motion.
“So where is this fine cowboy of yours?” Vicente waved an arthritic hand toward the empty chair at the kitchen table.
Across from him, Dante looked up from his plate loaded with Vicente’s specialty—enchiladas and refried beans. He chugged down his glass of milk and pushed away from the table. “Guys like him belong on some fancy dude ranch, not here.”
Vicente’s gaze sharpened. “Where did you say you met him?”
“College. He...he and I dated a few times before I met Ethan. He needed a job, and he was willing to take this one short-term.”
The lie settled uneasily in her stomach as she forked up another bite of her salad and eyed the clock above the stove.
Dante followed her gaze and smirked. “He’s probably lost.”
After Brady had settled his meager possessions into his cabin, she’d pointed out a good buckskin in the corral and sent him up into the hills over the north ridge to check the fence line.
