Cowboy Sanctuary. Elle James
topped another rise ahead of him, her vehicle slowing to a stop. Standing tall on her footrests, her head turned side to side.
Cameron pulled up beside her, set his cycle in neutral and rested his foot on the brake. Below them was another high mountain meadow. Cattle grazed, small brown specks amidst the lush green grasses.
“We moved these cattle up here yesterday. He and Rudy, our ranch hand, came up to check on them today and fix the fence in the far west corner of this meadow, past that line of trees.”
From his perch atop the ridge, Cameron scanned the meadow. Not a human could be seen, only cows. “Come on.” He shifted into gear and plunged down the side of the steep slope, dodging between the young junipers and firs dotting the east-facing slope.
Jennie followed and soon surged ahead. Skirting the herd, she led him toward a stand of old ponderosa pine. As she neared the far edge of the meadow, she slowed, allowing Cameron to close the distance and pull alongside.
As they entered the shadowy canopy of native forest, Cameron moved into the lead. Careful to dodge massive tree trunks, fallen brush and protruding roots, he hurried through the clump of trees to the other side. He could see sunlight ahead, and was that movement?
“Hey!” A voice carried to him above the roar of the motorcycle engine. At the edge of the clearing stood a young man Cameron didn’t recognize. Leaning against him with his arm draped over the young man was Hank Ward, an angry scowl marring his face.
Jennie skidded to a stop ten feet from her father. She killed the engine, leaped off the seat and raced to his side. “Dad, what happened?”
“Fell off my horse,” he grumbled.
The young man frowned. “He didn’t just fall off his horse.”
Hank glared at him, his expression fierce. “Hold your tongue, boy.”
“What happened, Rudy?” Jennie asked.
Rudy glanced at Jennie, a worried frown on his young forehead. “Someone fired a shot at him. It hit the ground in front of Red’s hooves. Spooked him so bad, he dumped Hank on the ground and lit out like his tail was on fire.”
“Damned horse reared so fast…” Hank shook his head. “I haven’t fallen off my horse since I don’t remember when.”
“Where are you hurt?” Jennie scanned her father from head to toe.
“Only my tailbone, my ankle and my pride.”
“It’s his left ankle. He couldn’t get it into the stirrup to mount and he couldn’t balance on his sore ankle long enough to get on my horse from the other side.”
“I can walk just fine,” Hank groused.
“Yeah? How about you prove it?” Rudy lifted Hank’s arm from around his neck, but Hank stopped him.
“Okay, okay. So my ankle’s botherin’ me. I’d have been all right if my danged horse hadn’t lit out of here.”
Cameron finally stepped forward. “Any idea which direction the bullet came from, Mr. Ward?”
Hank focused on Cameron as if it was the first time he’d noticed him. “Who are you?”
After ten years away from the ranch, six of which had been spent in the Army Rangers, Cameron had matured and changed.
Hank hadn’t recognized him, yet.
With a deep breath he stepped closer, ready for the worst. “Cameron Morgan, sir.”
Dead silence ensued. Even the birds stopped chirping for the five long seconds it took for Hank’s face to flush an angry red. “What the hell are you doing on my property?”
AS ANGER FIRED through her blood, Jennie stepped between them. Nothing ever changed. Why did her father have to be so pigheaded? “Dad, you’re hurt. Let’s get you back to the house. We can discuss everything there.”
“I’m not goin’ anywhere with a Morgan.”
“The hell you’re not.” Jennie’s lips tightened. She might have acquiesced when she was eighteen, but at twenty-eight she’d lived a tough life on the ranch. She’d learned a lot about managing men by riding side by side with the ranch hands. Her father was a man, and a very ornery one at that. She wasn’t taking any of his bull this time. “You might be my father, but I’m not putting up with stubborn stupidity. Rudy, get him to the back of my four-wheeler. I’ll take him to the house.”
“Here, let me help.” Cameron moved to one side of Hank.
The older man glared at him. “I don’t need the help of a Morgan. They’ve caused me nothin’ but trouble. And you should know that best.” He shot a hard stare at Jennie.
Jennie hid a smile when Cameron ignored him and took his elbow, helping him to the vehicle.
Hank winced as he straddled the seat and eased down. “Danged tailbone hurts like hell. You drive slow, Jen.”
“I will, Dad.” Jennie slid onto the seat in front of her father.
“Like to know who shot at me.”
A cold, hard lump settled in Jennie’s stomach, and she glanced at Cameron. “So would we.”
Chapter Three
“What do you mean someone might be trying to kill me?” Hank sat bolt upright in his recliner, his face creasing in pain. He immediately eased back, relieving the pressure on his tailbone. “Shoot fire, someone almost did today. But that doesn’t mean I gotta run scared. A Ward doesn’t run.” He aimed a narrow look at Cameron as if to say some Morgans ran.
Jennie had called a meeting of the entire crew in the living room of the ranch house, against her father’s wishes.
Stan stood beside her father, Rudy sat on a hardbacked wooden chair and Doug stood near the door, looking as if being inside the living room of the house was as foreign as stepping into a queen’s palace.
“If what Cameron is telling us is true,” Jennie argued, “we could all be in danger. It’s only fair to inform everyone of what might happen.”
“I say it’s all a bunch of scare tactics by your bodyguard agency to get folks out here to hire you on.” Hank lifted up to adjust the pillow beneath his bottom. “Damn tailbone. I should be out chasing after the son-of-a—”
“Hank Ward, watch your mouth.” Ms. Blainey swept through the room carrying a tray with drinks.
“Sir, I’ll be working on my own time for this case,” Cameron stated. “You won’t be required to pay anything. Prescott Personal Securities is in this no matter whether they get paid or not. Two of our agents have already been involved and almost killed trying to figure out what’s going on and who killed the CEOs.”
When the older woman fussed over the pillows behind Hank’s head, he waved her away. “Leave it, woman. I can do for myself.”
“I can see that,” Ms. Blainey said, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth, undeterred by Hank’s surly disposition.
The owner of the Flying W focused his attention on Cameron. “Why don’t you go put a tail on the Russian mob, or figure out who owns that blind trust and leave us alone?”
“I understand your frustration, sir,” Cameron stated. “But this could be a very dangerous situation for you and Jennie.”
Jennie watched the two men posturing in the living room. If Cameron hoped to win her father over, he had to be the sound and rational one. Hank could get downright blustery and mean. As the younger man, and a Morgan, he had to prove to the old coot he could keep his cool, no matter what was thrown at him.
“We don’t have any evidence other than a land coordinate found on a disk full of other land coordinates, two of which match the land formerly