Page 31 of Steers and Stowaways
Unfortunately.But the truth was rarely black-and-white. They both knew that, too. Tucker glanced around the barn again, trying to figure out where an eighteen-year-old might hide if he was still around.
His gaze zeroed in on a shiver of movement in the straw near Mallory. The steer she was coddling had just finished his I.V. fluids. She still had his head in her lap, rubbing his head and patting his neck like he was a house pet.
His insides softened at the sight. There was no way a woman who loved cattle as much as she did would’ve packed them full of drug packages.
The straw beside her left ankle moved again, and a hand popped into the air.
Tucker sprinted in her direction, whipping out his pistol and aiming it at the hand. “Don’t move,” he snarled at the life-sized lump beneath the straw. “I’m armed, and I’ll shoot!”
Mallory tipped her face up, gaping at him like he was crazy until a figure sat up with his hands in the air. Straw was dripping from his hair and clothing.
“It’s me!” Chip’s skinny face was pale beneath the grime and straw, and he looked like he was about to throw up.
The Lonestar Security team crept their way from all directions. Like him, their weapons were drawn.
“Chip?” Mallory recoiled from him in astonishment. “What are you doing?”
“Hiding,” he declared hoarsely. “I had to. They were gonna kill me.”
“Who?” Tucker demanded. He wasn’t interested in any sob stories from a gangbanger who’d failed to escape with the rest of his crooked friends.
Chip lowered his head like a whipped puppy and didn’t answer.
Tucker cocked his pistol threateningly. “Who was going to kill you?”
“That’s enough, Tuck.” Gesturing at him to lower his gun, Mallory gently removed the head of the steer from her lap before rising to her knees and inserting herself bodily between him and his target. “He’s too scared to talk.”
Her impulsiveness made Tucker want to throttle her. “Move aside, Mal.” Now wasn’t the time for her to think with her beautiful heart. For once, he needed her to use her head.
“I’m fine, Tuck.” She sniffed in disdain. “Chip wouldn’t hurt a flea.”
“Is that so?” Tucker lowered his pistol and tucked it in the waistband of his jeans. There was no point in aiming it at her. “Have you forgotten how he filched a hot beverage at the festival on the rez last month?”
Rezwas the term most of the locals used to describe the Comanche reservation on the south side of Heart Lake.
Chip’s head came up in defense. “They made me do it!”
Tucker was going to need more information than that—a lot more. “How about you give us a name?”
Chip swayed dizzily.
Mallory reached over to lower his hands to his sides. “It’s your parents, isn’t it?”
He slumped deeper into the straw. “Please, Mallory. I can’t.”
Mallory’s head whipped toward Tucker, then back to Chip. “You figured out who I am, eh?”
Chip gave a weak snort. “I knew it from the start, but Cruz didn’t. That’s why I didn’t say anything.”
“You were protecting me.” Wonder tinged her voice.
Unable to bear the hopeful look in her eyes, Tucker growled, “Don’t put words in his mouth.” Anything she said in Chip’s defense would only reinforce Gil and Dave’s belief that she was in on the cattle rustling plaguing her ranch.
Her eyes snapped indignantly. “Oh, for pity’s sake, Tuck!”
“Don’t get mad at him,” Chip said quickly. “He’s right about my family. We’re bad news.”
“You’re eighteen,” she protested, shimmying closer to him.
