ShotgunRelations, page 11
Four had invited them all to stay at the Bar C, out of the way of the deputies and forensics experts from the Texas Crime Laboratory who’d pretty much taken over the Laughing Wolf. Mavis had readily accepted but Jack had decided to take Liz to his place instead. While he’d made some degree of peace with his old man, he didn’t feel cozy enough around Four to spend a night or two in his palatial ranch house.
“I want to have you all to myself,” he told Liz as he drove them back to town. She had her head on his shoulder and her hand on his knee, but he sensed she needed comfort at the moment more than sex. Having to identify the dead cowboy yesterday had given her quite a shock, understandably so. It had taken Jack several hours to lose the nausea that had hit him when he’d looked at a stranger’s bloated face. It had been much worse for her since she’d known Dale Cavanaugh. Liz had also expressed mixed feelings about Frank’s arrest, which Jack understood.
He laid a hand over hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “When we get home I’ll put on some quiet music and we’ll sit out on the porch, hold hands and watch the moon. Would you like that?”
She shook her head. “I need you to hold me. Jack, I’ve never been so scared in my life. What if Frank used the ranch to run a rustling business? What if he stashed stolen stock somewhere on the property? We’ve got a lot of acreage and not all of it’s tended every day.”
“You’d only be responsible for his actions if you’d been aware of them and done nothing to stop him. Nobody believes that was the case.” She certainly knew that she wouldn’t be implicated legally if her foreman had used her property without her knowledge, so he imagined she was feeling responsible for not having realized her foreman had been up to something nefarious before he was caught. He didn’t have a clue how he could take that worry off her mind.
“Do you think Frank could have hidden the stock he rustled on the Laughing Wolf?” Her voice sounded shaky and he understood exactly what she was worried about.
“That isn’t likely. He’d have had to have more than a couple of cowhands in on his rustling activities to get by with doing that. Stock requires tending, from what I observed this morning. Sheriff Atkins believes he may have been in cahoots with somebody who owns a small spread not too far away, where they can alter brands and get the stolen animals ready for auction.”
Liz sighed. “I don’t know how somebody could alter our brand. I’ve never seen another one that looks remotely like it. Now the Bar C’s—that one would be easy since it’s just the letter C with a horizontal line above it.”
Jack had seen plenty of the Laughing Wolf brands on stock earlier today, and he agreed it would be hard to alter successfully. It consisted of two small triangles, one large one and the letter W in the center—a stylized wolf with a grin on its face. The Bar C brand, though, he could envision a good many ways to alter—and he was no rustler.
“Caden arrogance, I suppose, thinking no one would dare step on their land and steal their property.” Jack had no trouble imagining Four and his ancestors feeling just that certain of their power to protect what was theirs. “I see your point. There must be dozens of ways a rustler could alter the Bar C brand.”
“That’s true, except that not many ranchers brand their stock on the right forequarter, the way they do at the Bar C. That alone makes the brand hard to alter, because the rustlers would have to register an altered brand in that location if they want to sell the stock at a reputable auction house.” Liz sat up straight as they approached the Caden County courthouse and its third-floor jail.
Damn it, Jack didn’t want her sympathizing with Frank Williams. “I didn’t realize the location of the brand was significant,” he commented.
“Yes. All our stock are marked on the left rear flank. That’s the most common place because it’s the easiest to get to when the animal’s tied up to be branded.”
When she yawned Jack realized again how exhausted she must be, mentally as well as physically. “We’re almost home. Do you want to stop in at The Corral and have something to eat? I don’t have much food in the house.”
She hesitated a minute. “I’m not hungry but I know we ought to eat. Maybe a beer or two would help me relax.”
When Jack pulled up to the curve, he glanced up at his darkened office before helping Liz out of the car and onto the raised sidewalk. “I want you to forget about everything for now except me and your stomach. That’s an order,” he told her in a deliberately teasing tone as they stepped inside the only excuse for a restaurant in the tiny town.
* * * * *
“You know, Master, I don’t think I’d have survived the last two days if it weren’t for you taking care of me.” With her belly full, her mind lulled into virtual shutdown and her body relaxed after a long soak in the tub with Jack, Liz felt she might actually be able to go to sleep without taking another of the knockout pills Doc Baines had given her yesterday.
“I’m glad I could help. Now I want you to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be another stressful day.” When she lay on the bed beside him, he rolled her on her side and held her. Demanding nothing, he lent her his warmth, his strength. She loved the way he stroked her as though she were a favorite pet, while his warm breath against her hair reminded her he was there, protecting her as nobody had done since her father had died.
Not that her feelings toward Jack were remotely daughterly. Even as tired as she was, her body came alive at his touch. “Master?”
“What, honey?” His warm breath on the back of her neck sent delicious shivers down her spine, and when he kissed her there she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Make love to me. Please.”
He rolled her over and took her mouth, his lips soft on hers, his tongue seeking and mating with hers. With gentle hands he drew their bodies together, stroking and gentling her as a stockman might calm a fractious colt.
Breaking the kiss, he spoke softly in the deep, mellow tones that turned her liquid with desire. “How do you want me? Tell me.”
“Fuck me. Make me forget everything that’s going on. Empty my mind of everything but you. Master.”
He didn’t, not right away. Instead he sat up and looked at her, his gaze not scorching but warm…caring…she’d almost say loving. She lost focus on her fears and worries as he stroked her with exquisite care. The pulses he sampled along her body, the sensation of his calloused fingers moving gently yet possessively, the look of devotion on his arresting face filled her mind, driving out horrific memories and replacing them with him.
His caring. A focused devotion Liz had never experienced until now. Everywhere he touched her with his hands and his gaze, it stoked flames inside her. Flames that simmered instead of sizzling tonight.
Jack knew what she needed. He was her master, all she needed to weather the storms that had battered her. All that mattered when everything was said and done.
She reached up and stroked his cheek, ran her fingers along the short, dark stubble that had been shaved smooth before all this happened. He’d altered his routine for her and she loved him for it. “What will your barber say about you missing your appointment today?” she asked, a nonsensical question that came unbidden to her mind.
“I’m not worried about that. You’re what’s important to me now.” He laid a hand over the tattoo on her mound—her symbol of his possession. “Let’s make love.”
Not “Let’s fuck”. Not tonight. Tonight there’d be no toys, no restraints, no titillating talk of ménages or bondage scenes. “Yes, Master.” He knew what she needed now, and he moved between her legs and fitted his cock into her pussy.
Taking care not to abrade her healing tattoo, her master braced his hands on the bed, holding his weight off her. The only point of contact was where he’d joined their bodies, flesh on flesh, nothing between them.
Somehow that intensified the feelings, the sense of oneness with him that flowed over her as she watched the bunching of his powerful muscles, the up-and-down motion of his hips as he claimed her this way.
“Come with me,” he said, and she eagerly obeyed. Every sensation grew more intense. Her cunt clenched. She looked into his intent gaze. “Now.”
She came, a burst of sensation that practically stole her consciousness. But she felt the first hot bursts of his release as her world turned black.
“I love you like I’ve never loved anybody before.” His words, softly spoken, broke through her muddled brain and she felt him withdraw and take her back into his protective embrace.
Chapter Eight
For the next few days Jack tried to find the right time to talk to Liz, but everything seemed to conspire against him. If it wasn’t the crisis at her ranch, it was a client who owned one of the smaller spreads around here, whose ex was trying to move out of state and deny him the right to be a part of his son’s life.
Then the autopsy reports had finally come back and he’d had to spend untold hours looking for an attorney to take Frank’s case when his charges had become exponentially more serious—and more difficult to persuade an area attorney to defend. Not too many lawyers wanted to boast about defending a client accused not only of rustling but also two counts of capital murder.
He glanced over at Karen’s darkened office, grateful that she’d gotten back from her honeymoon that morning and would be available to answer Four’s legal questions, since doing that had taken up some of his time as well.
Jack had a feeling he wasn’t going to get back into his old routine any time soon. Yesterday morning he’d watched his barber convert his shaggy high-and-tight into a conventional buzz cut that wouldn’t require such frequent attention. He’d realized last night that his hard-core image at the Neon Lasso didn’t mean as much to him as it used to before he’d found Liz and collared her during a scene at the club.
He opened his desk drawer and brought out the pewter heart-shaped jewelry box he’d bought at the estate jeweler next to The Corral where he’d also found the modest engagement ring he intended to give Liz when he joined her at her ranch tonight.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, he slipped the ring back in the drawer next to the copy of William Wolfe’s last will and testament, which he’d gotten at the courthouse. He’d have to give that to Liz first—and hope she wouldn’t hate him for keeping the truth from her. It’s only been a week since I found out, he told himself, but that excuse didn’t hold water.
It’s been a hell of a lot longer than a week since you found out you’re Byron Caden the Fourth’s bastard. Liz will have a perfect right to tell you to fuck off when you drop that piece of news.
“Mike Dryden’s here for his appointment, Jack.” Mary Ellen, the receptionist Jack shared with Karen, ushered in the worried-looking young rancher, who sighed as he sank into the chair in front of Jack’s desk.
“What have you found out? You said you’d gotten the report from the investigators.” Mike had obviously spent some restless nights waiting to hear if he had a shot at winning the custody fight against his ex.
Jack was glad to divert his attention toward somebody else’s problems. “Relax, Mike. I’ve done some research, but as I told you, family law—particularly fathers’ rights in Texas—isn’t an area in which I’d put myself out as an expert. On paper, the laws on child custody and visitation are equally weighted to father and mother and based on seeing to the child’s best interests. Practically speaking, though, the mother’s going to get primary custody of a young child unless the father can prove she’s unfit in some way. Are you willing to air Sarah’s dirty linen in the courthouse across the street?”
Mike looked pathetically hopeful when Jack handed him the fat report he’d received yesterday from a private investigation firm in Houston. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep Johnny with me. What did they find out?”
“Well, during the years Sarah lived in Florida before you two met, she apparently had some acquaintances who make your criminal history look no more serious than a speeding ticket. She was friends with a guy who recently got hit with a federal charge for trafficking boatloads of cocaine, and she ran around with a bunch of addicts who are members of an outlaw motorcycle gang. Several of them have convictions for dealing cocaine and OxyContin, and the gang itself has strong connections with the trafficking rap guy.” Jack didn’t know if he’d want his child, if he had one, to be saddled with the stigma of a whole county knowing his mother had been a gang slut for that crew of thugs.
Mike looked up from the report he’d been paging through. “Will this count with the judge? Most of it happened a good while ago, before she moved to Houston.”
“I’m sure it will count if you use it. Frankly I think it will be enough to prove to the court that she left you and is shacking up with a married guy whose reputation isn’t very savory but whose worst criminal conviction to date is one for drunk driving with property damage and possession of cannabis. We may be able to get the judge to hear the case behind closed doors. If so, we can hand him the report from the investigators and you should be granted full custody of your son.”
Jack felt sorry for Mike, who’d been designated a felon because of a DUI manslaughter conviction from more than fifteen years ago when he’d been just seventeen. “The only problem I see is that Sarah herself hasn’t been caught for anything worse than speeding and reckless driving. Those pictures she left on her old MySpace account of herself smoking a hookah pipe and guzzling Patron ought to sway the judge, but they might not since they were taken before she met you. If you want me to, I’ll see if I can get a qualified family practice guy from Dallas to come and sit first chair at the hearing. The attorneys in the firm I’m talking about all specialize in protecting fathers’ rights.”
“I don’t know. The Dry Gulch’s ranch operation’s no slouch but it’s not the Bar C either. How much would this guy cost me? You’re charging me fairly, but the PI fees have put a serious dent in my cash flow.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Investigations that cross state lines and cover five years or more get expensive. I imagine a board-certified family practice attorney would charge somewhere around five hundred an hour, portal to portal—meaning you’d not only pay him for his time to review the case and show up here in court, but you’d also have to cover his travel time and per diem expenses for however long he’s here.”
“Damn. It may take some doing but I’ll handle it if I have to. I’ve got one good piece of news though. Melissa has agreed to marry me.”
“Good.” When Jack heard that he felt a little more confident that he’d be able to take care of Mike’s problem without the help of a big-city fathers’ rights advocate. “Melissa will make Johnny a great stepmother. Who could ask for anybody more qualified for that job than the county’s only kindergarten teacher?”
“We dated back in high school. I should have married her years ago, but it took her a long time to get past condemning me because I got drunk, got in my car and killed an innocent person. Every time I’d think I was making progress with her, she’d find another guy she thought she cared for. Then when they broke up I’d be tied up in another meaningless relationship. This time, though, we’re both free at the same time.” The rancher’s expression brightened noticeably when he talked about his future wife. “When is the hearing set for?”
Jack understood Mike’s concern because Sarah had Johnny with her in Florida until the custody case was settled. “It isn’t. I wanted to go over this report before scheduling it. Now that we’ve talked, I’ll try to get it on the docket as soon as possible. Meanwhile the PIs will be keeping a close watch on Johnny, and if Sarah does the slightest thing that could be construed as threatening to his welfare, the court down there will have him taken away from her. Then you can go there and petition for temporary custody on an emergency basis.”
“You’re sure my felony conviction won’t keep them from letting me have him?”
“Don’t worry about it. According to the law, the judge can’t consider those things unless they’re recent and indicate that you might be a risk to your son. Sarah’s associations and her having kidnapped Johnny and taken him out of state without your knowledge will play worse with the judge than your fifteen-year-old conviction.”
“Okay. It’s just that I worry…” Mike looked away as though he thought being a felon made him unworthy to regard others as equals.
Seeing how that status affected the man who’d made a success of his ranch and contributed so positively to the Caden County community shamed Jack. He’d have to squelch the frequent feelings of inadequacy he’d been experiencing since he’d found out he was a bastard.
He stood and spoke to Mike. “Don’t worry. Almost everybody around here is proud of you. Take that copy of the report—I’ve got another one—and mark any information you don’t want me to use under any circumstances. Otherwise I’ll consider it fair game in case I believe it’s necessary to use it to win you full custody of your little boy.”
“Thanks, Jack. I’ll get this back to you in a day or two.”
“Take care.”
For a long time after Mike had left, Jack re-read the investigators’ report and took notes that would help him compose his motion to the court. While that distracted him to some degree, his attention kept going back to Liz and to what he had to tell her tonight. He scribbled some notes about what he might say, as he often did when preparing arguments for court.
None of them gave him any confidence that Liz might accept his revelations as readily as judges and juries usually bought his glib explanations of why his clients should win their civil cases.
* * * * *
An hour. Just one hour until Jack would come and pick her up. Still damp from the shower, Liz looked out her bedroom window at a sunny sky that was cloudless today for the first time in a week. It was as if Nature had lifted the gloom just as her master had taken the worst of her worries away.
Someday soon she’d have to do something nice for Four. He’d done them a real service by handling her mother’s hysteria as well as lending her the Bar C’s assistant foreman to help her manage since Frank had been in jail. Mom hadn’t set foot here since Four had taken her home with him the day Frank had been arrested, and her absence had made Liz’s job of running the ranch far easier than it would have been if Mom had been underfoot.
