Sherryl Woods - Courting the Enemy

Even so, it took her a long time to disengage from his embrace, longer still to take a faltering step back.

“This is my proof,” she murmured, still dazed from the feel of his mouth on hers, but determined to inject a haughty note of disdain into her voice.

“Proof of what?” he said as he trailed more kisses down the side of her neck.

“That you’re a scoundrel and a thief. You stole that kiss,” she accused, managing to get the words out with a straight face, even though she knew it was a blatant lie. He had stolen nothing. She had given it to him willingly.

Laughter filled the air. Evidently he was no more convinced of the lie than she was.

“Maybe the first one, darlin’,” he conceded. “But the second one you gave me of your own free will. You can’t count that one against me, and I’d say it negates the implications of the first one. Once two people start to tango, so to speak, the blame pretty much falls by the wayside.”

She frowned at him. “You would say that, wouldn’t you? It serves your purpose.”

“And what is my purpose?” he asked, studying her with mild curiosity.

“To get my land,” she said at once, but she was no longer as certain as she had once been. A part of her was beginning to believe that he just might be after her, instead.

Grady went home that night and called his private detective, the one he’d had working for weeks to find out who might be behind the sabotage intended to take out the Hanson herd. Karen had walked in on him when he’d called Jarrod Wilcox earlier from her kitchen. He wanted to reemphasize to the man the urgency of the investigation. He needed results fast. He was growing less and less certain about why, though.

At first, he’d merely wanted Karen to know the truth so she could begin to trust him. He’d hoped that that would be the first step to getting her to sell the ranch to him. Now it was all tangled up in something personal. He wanted her trust, because he couldn’t bear to see that condemning look in her eyes one more time.

“I told you this afternoon that this is all but impossible,” Jarrod told him. “For one thing, the incidents took place a year ago or more. If there was any kind of physical evidence, it’s long gone. Seems to me like you’re throwing good money after bad by keeping me on your payroll.”

“If that’s your attitude, maybe I am,” Grady snapped. “Maybe somebody else would approach this with a more positive attitude, maybe be a little more aggressive.”

“Anybody legitimate would tell you what I’m telling you-forget about this.”

“What about the mortgage? Surely there’s paperwork about any attempt to buy up the Hanson note. The president of the bank didn’t just make that up. He either had a letter or a face-to-face meeting.”

“He claims the latter, and he claims it was with you,” Jarrod said.

“Since I’ve never set foot in that bank, he’s lying, then. Who’s paying him to lie?”

“Have you considered asking him that yourself? It’ll be a whole lot harder for him to pull off the lie if you’re looking him in the eye.”

Grady sighed. “You have a point. I’ll get on that first thing in the morning. Meantime, I want you to look into every person who owns land adjacent to the Hanson ranch. Either somebody wants that land for themselves or they have a reason for keeping me from having it.”

“Will do.”

“By the end of the week,” Grady added.

“It’s Wednesday now.”

“Then you’ll just have to get your butt in gear, won’t you?”

Jarrod sighed. “I’ll be in touch.”

Grady impatiently jammed the phone back in its cradle, only to realize that his grandfather was standing in the doorway, regarding him with curiosity. He crossed the room in three quick strides to embrace the man who meant more to him than anyone.

Even at seventy-five his grandfather was an impressive man. His thick black hair fell past his shoulders in braids that were streaked with gray. His tanned face was carved with deep lines, his black eyes intense, his bearing proud.

Thomas Blackhawk took a step back, his hands on Grady’s shoulders, and studied his face. “You look troubled.”

“Exasperated,” Grady said.

“Perhaps you should spend some time with me up in the mountains,” Thomas suggested. “It might give you some peace and some perspective.”

“I imagine it would,” Grady agreed. “But right now I don’t have the time.”

His grandfather’s weathered face creased with a half smile. “All the more reason to come, don’t you think?”

“I’ll think about it,” Grady promised. He gestured to a chair. “Can I get you something? Coffee? A drink? I have some of that disgusting orange soda you love so much.”

“That would be good. And a man who lives on caffeine has no room to criticize my choice of beverage.”

Grady brought his grandfather the bottle of soda. “What brings you all the way down here? Usually if I want to see you this time of year, I have to come to you.”

“I have heard some troubling things.”

Grady’s gaze narrowed. “About?”

“You.”

Uh-oh, Grady thought. The meddling Hansons were innocent babes in the wood compared to his grandfather. “Oh?” he said, keeping his expression neutral.

“You have been spending time with the Hanson widow, true?”

“Yes.”

“Why? You are not pressuring her to sell you the land, are you?”

“We’ve discussed it,” he said, choosing his words carefully. They had been over this ground before. But Grady believed that despite his grandfather’s denials in recent years, he wanted that land returned to the Blackhawk family. He’d just tired of the futile battle.

His grandfather regarded him with resignation. “Why can’t I make you see that this is unnecessary? For years I told your father to let it be, but he refused to listen. You are the same. That land means nothing to me.”

“It is Blackhawk land,” Grady said fiercely.

“It was Blackhawk land.”

“It was stolen from our ancestors.”

“At a troubling time in our history,” his grandfather agreed. He peered at Grady intently. “Tell me something. Do you need this land for your ranch?”

“No, of course not. It’s not even near here.”

“Nor do I,” his grandfather said. “So why are you stirring things up, if it is no longer of any importance to us?”

“It’s a matter of principle,” Grady said.

“Is this principle more important than the woman?”

So, Grady thought with a sigh, his grandfather had heard that there was more between Grady and Karen than a battle over acres of ranch land.

“One thing has nothing to do with the other,” Grady replied, mouthing the lie that was becoming second nature to him.

“Explain that to me,” his grandfather said. “It seems to me the two are inevitably intertwined.”

“I can keep them separate,” Grady insisted.

“Can she?” Thomas Blackhawk rose stiffly to his feet. “Think long and hard before you choose unwisely and trade one thing for another. It would not be the first time one of our people made that mistake.”

“Meaning?”

“That things are not always what they seem at first glance. And there are many ways to bring things full circle.”

Grady regarded him with impatience. “And I suppose that your enigmatic response is all you intend to say?”

“For now,” his grandfather agreed, his eyes twinkling.

“Riddles,” Grady muttered. “I ask for advice, and all I get are riddles.”

“You are the brightest of my grandsons. Use your intelligence to figure them out.”

“And if I can’t?”

“Then listen to your heart.”

His grandfather’s words lingered long after he had gone. Grady was up all night thinking, but he couldn’t seem to convince himself to stray from his original course of action. For too many years he had lived with the need to see that land restored to the Blackhawks. The memory of his ancestors deserved that, even if those living no longer thought it mattered.