Claire McEwen - Reunited With The Cowboy

He surveyed the bar, looking for a new topic. They could always talk cattle. Jace had recently purchased an old ranch, and he could go on for hours about the bucking bulls he planned to raise once he got the place fixed up.

A woman sitting at the bar looked familiar. She turned to say something to her companion, and her name hit Caleb like a blow to the gut. Trisha Gilbert. Julie’s best friend growing up, who’d been with her the night of the accident. Who’d survived.

He hadn’t run into Trisha since he’d been home. What was going on? First Maya, and now this? Was there some cruel alignment of the planets that was bringing these women back into his life? He didn’t need reminders of the accident. He had plenty, every day that he lived and his little sister didn’t.

As Caleb watched, Trisha slid off a stool and walked toward the restroom. She moved with a slight limp and Caleb wondered if that was her souvenir from that horrible night. Trisha’s leg had been broken in a couple of places.

The guy she was with—kind of a skinny, ratty-looking dude—glanced furtively around the bar, reached into his pocket, took something out and dropped it in Trisha’s drink.

“Holy hell,” Caleb murmured, taking a few steps forward. He set his beer down on the nearest table, ignoring the protests of its occupants.

“What’s going on?” Jace moved to stand beside him.

Caleb pointed to the bar. “That guy right there? He drugged Trisha’s drink.”

Cold fury flooded Caleb’s system, pressing out from inside his chest, and he was moving, shoving aside chairs and people until he was in front of the ratty man. He grabbed the guy’s collar. “What did you put in it?”

“Get off me,” the guy spluttered. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you,” Caleb ground out, gripping him even harder. “I saw you put something in that drink.”

“Is there a problem?” The bartender, Royce, was Dex’s nephew. Small, young, not much help in a fight.

“This guy spiked his date’s drink.” Jace handed Royce the glass. “Save that. Call the cops.”

Royce eyed the man in disgust and put the drink out of sight, behind the bar. “I’m calling.” He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.

“I didn’t do anything.” The man’s whine scraped away the last shreds of Caleb’s civility. Men like this hurt women and there were too many of them out there, wreaking havoc. Older guys had gotten Trisha and Julie drunk, the night Julie died. And now this jerk was hoping to do God-knows-what to Trisha.

The idea of some guy targeting Julie, in some future that could never happen, curled Caleb’s fingers tighter around the man’s coat. “Don’t ever come back here.” Caleb pulled him off the stool, shoved him toward the door, once, twice, herding the stumbling, stammering scum.

“Back off,” the man squeaked as he crashed into a table.

Caleb grabbed the weasel one more time and hauled him out into the night.

In the parking lot, the man tried to break free, but Caleb held tight and raised his fist. Trisha could have been his sister. She could have been Julie.

Someone grabbed his hand and forced it down. “Get a hold of yourself,” Jace commanded, low and stern, wrenching Caleb’s arm behind his back. “You’ve done enough.”

The weasel saw his chance and ran for his vehicle.

Headlights lit up the night as a sheriff’s car turned into the parking lot and pulled alongside them. The window lowered to reveal the scowling face of Adam Sears, now Deputy Sears, a friend from high school. “I heard there’s a problem. And look who it is. I should have known I’d find you out here, Caleb.”

It was hard to look dignified when your buddy had you in an arm lock, but Caleb tried. “It’s that guy over there, getting into the silver pickup.”

“Caleb, were you beating on the guy? I warned you last time. No more fights.”

“I just chucked him out of the bar.” The irritation was back, several horseflies now, buzzing wildly in Caleb’s mind. Adam was wasting time while the jerk got away.

Adam shook his head like a disappointed dad. “This wasn’t your problem to solve.”

“I don’t see you solving it.” Caleb tried to break free, but Jace wouldn’t budge. “Why don’t you do your job and stop him before he drives off?”

Adam pointed toward another car pulling into the lot, lights flashing. “He won’t get far. And my job is to keep the peace. Right now that means stopping you from doing anything stupid. I don’t want you back in my jail. I don’t want to charge you with assault. So calm down. Okay?”

Breath coming in ragged gulps, Caleb jerked his head toward the silver truck. “Shouldn’t you be talking to him?”

“I will be. But I also want to talk to you. Tomorrow morning. Meet me at the diner at nine.”

“I’ve got a ranch to run.” No way did he want a heart-to-heart about his wrongdoings with Adam, who made straight and narrow look so easy.

“Just meet him,” Jace said in a low voice. “You’re lucky he’s not arresting you.” He loosened his grip, and Caleb’s arm flopped back down to his side, the blood flooding in with pins and needles.

“Fine.” Caleb’s vision was clearing, the laser focus on his quarry easing. He suddenly noticed all the people who’d followed them out of the bar. They were standing around, gaping at him. Once again, he’d provided the entertainment at Dex’s. He should start charging admission. He glared at Adam. “But you’re buying.”

“Just be there.” Adam finally turned to look at the man who’d tried to drug Trisha. The coward had his hands on the truck while the newly arrived deputy frisked him. Adam took his microphone off the dashboard and his voice blared through the loudspeaker, silencing everyone in the lot. “Okay folks, that’s a wrap. Time to go inside.”

“Show off,” Caleb muttered as Adam drove off across the lot to help arrest the guy. “Come on. I could use another drink. And we should check on Trisha.”

“Hang on.” Jace put a hand on his arm to stop him, jerking it back when Caleb whirled to face him.

“What? Are you gonna give me a lecture too? I’m pretty sure Adam will take care of that tomorrow.”

“C’mon. I’ve known you forever. What is wrong with you?” Jace looked tired all of a sudden, and Caleb remembered everything his friend was dealing with at home. He’d lost his rodeo career, his entire life, when he’d taken on his sister’s kids.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Just saying the words felt like effort. The rage that had powered him into overdrive was fading. Now even the air felt heavy, weighing down muscle and bone.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Jace mimicked. “You sound like a teenager. And I’ve already got one of those in my life. Seriously, what happened? Why are you so angry all the time?”

Where the hell to start? All the problems on the ranch that he couldn’t find the money to repair? The nightmares that stole his sleep? Or he could always blame Afghanistan, and everything that went down in that dusty hellhole.

Talking about that kind of stuff was impossible. So he’d blame the most immediate issue. “A mountain lion has been killing off my sheep. I got a permit, and last night I went out to shoot it. I ran into Maya instead.”

“Maya Burton?” Jace stared. “What was Maya doing near your ranch?”

Haunting him. A beautiful, brainy, scientist-ghost. “She’s some kind of expert on mountain lions. She said she was tracking them.”

“Sounds like she can’t be as smart as we all thought if her job involves chasing lions.”

“Maybe.” Caleb glowered, too much feeling coursing through him to appreciate the lame joke. He’d almost killed her. Almost shot her out there, on that trail. “She wants to come by my ranch and tell me how to keep them away.”