Rebecca York: Riley's Retribution

He tucked the questions into his growing mental file for later investigation.

When he stepped into a room decorated with cute little pictures of babies dressed up like flowers, he wanted to step right back out. But he forced himself to stand there and breathe normally. Ms. Rogers was already at the reception desk, talking to a woman in a white uniform. The rancher glanced back at him. “You might as well sit down.”

He nodded, then surveyed the audience looking him up and down as if he was a prize bull at a cattle auction. There were eight women giving him the once-over, ranging in age from teenagers to grandmas. They all sat on molded chairs. The younger ones were all visibly pregnant.

He felt his stomach muscles clench. Trying to keep his expression neutral, he sat down, holding his Western hat in his lap as he focused on a poster beside the desk advertising the opening of a shelter for battered women.

Ms. Rogers broke into his train of thought. “They’re going to fit me in, so it shouldn’t take too long.”

He suppressed the impulse to say thank God.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat in the only empty chair in the room—the one beside him. The seating was tight, and her shoulder brushed his. He knew everyone in the room was watching them, judging the level of intimacy between them.

Two of the women leaned their heads together and began whispering, and he was sure they were discussing him and Ms. Rogers.

To their right, he heard loud voices talking about the new battered-women’s shelter. The speakers sounded enthusiastic.

Courtney turned toward them, looking as though she wanted to join in, but she kept her mouth shut.

Luckily she was right about the speedy service. After only ten minutes, a nurse came out and called her name, and she disappeared into the back.

Her departure apparently freed the occupants of the room from restraint.

A gray-haired lady leaned toward him and asked, “So what’s your relationship to Mrs. Rogers?”

He blinked, thinking that nine sets of ears—the patients and the receptionist—were tuned in for his answer. And he had five seconds to account for his presence here. “I’m her new ranch manager,” he said, hoping that the fib wouldn’t matter. If Courtney decided to take him on, then it would be true. If she sent him packing, he’d be the talk of the town. But he wouldn’t be around to hear it.

“You know she’s not married,” the woman said.

“Mmm.”

“She was already divorced, but her former husband called her up. They were trying to see if they could get back together. I guess they did that all right. At least for one night.”

A teenager in the room giggled.

“He got himself killed in some foreign country after that, leaving her with the ranch and the baby.”

“How do you know so much about it?” he asked carefully.

“Everybody knows it. He asked her to meet him for some R&R, and she went rushing off to have a good time with him.”

“He was with the CIA or something like that, and he couldn’t adjust to the ranch,” another woman chipped in. “You look like you’re more suited to life out here.”

Were they suggesting that he marry Ms. Rogers—to make an honest woman of her?

“She’s a handful,” someone else murmured, and he wasn’t sure exactly who had made the comment. He’d already discovered the truth of that statement.

He slouched down in his seat, hoping that his body language discouraged further conversation.

Courtney returned a few moments later looking vastly relieved.

He saw the peanut gallery eyeing her, then him, then both of them. He stood. “How’s the baby?”

“The doctor say’s she’s fine.”

“It’s a girl?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Your new ranch manager is a good man,” someone said. “You should rely on him.”

When Mrs. Rogers’s gaze shot to him, Riley wished he could sink through the floor.

She looked as though she wanted to set the speaker straight. Before she could bad-mouth him, he took her arm and steered her through the door.

As soon as they were on the street, she turned fierce eyes to him. “What did Sandra mean—my new ranch manager?”

He struggled to keep his voice even and reasonable. “As soon as you left, one of those busybodies asked me what I was to you. What did you want me to say—that I was your lover? Or maybe I picked you up along the road, and we got friendly real fast.”

She had opened her mouth to make another comment. But she shut it again. He watched her struggling to get control of her temper before saying, “You don’t have the job yet.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“We need to finish our job interview,” she murmured, stepping into a small courtyard where the walls of two buildings cut the wind.

He followed her into the small enclosure. “Okay.”

She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “You said you grew up on a ranch and that you’ve worked on several spreads in Texas and Wyoming.”

“Yes.”

“And you did a stint in the Special Forces.”

“Yes.”

“My husband was in the service, and he hated ranch life,” she said with a challenge in her voice.

“Well, I’m not him. I came home to ranch work after the service,” he said, the lie sticking in his throat.

But it seemed to satisfy her…for the time being. He could also tell she hadn’t quite made up her mind.

She sighed. “I’d better go to the sheriff’s office.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Why?”

“Is that a trick question? I think he’s the kind of guy who will behave better if there’s a witness along—particularly a witness of the male variety.”

“You have him pegged there.”

“You’ve known him a long time?”

“No. He’s new in town.”

That was interesting, Riley thought. “What brought him here?”

“Maybe he likes being a big fish in a little pond.”

“He likes to throw his weight around?”

“Unfortunately, yes. And since he got here, the town has become a lot more…lawless.”

“Like how?”

“Like an increase in cattle rustling.”

“And shooting incidents out on the highway?”

“Yes,” she muttered.

They walked across the street to the office. Courtney breathed out a little sigh when the clerk told her that Pennington was on his dinner break. Instead of enduring an interview, she was able to fill out a form reporting the gunshot incident, and they were out of the office in under twenty minutes.

“You’re not going to leave the slug with him?” Riley asked.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s evidence, and I don’t want it to disappear.”

Riley considered that as they climbed back into the SUV.

COURTNEY WANTED to get out of town as quickly as possible—and back to the ranch. But she couldn’t leave yet.

“Mike’s Gas Station is at the edge of town. We need to stop there and arrange to have my truck towed.”

“Yeah, I saw it.”

On the way to Mike’s, she called Jake Bradley again and told him she’d stopped at the doctor’s to make sure the baby was okay. Jake had been at the ranch since her grade-school years. She knew he’d be concerned.

As she arranged to have the truck towed and fixed, she watched Mike eyeing her and Riley Watson with interest. But she wasn’t going to offer explanations.

Finally they started home. And it was a relief to be away from people who wanted to ask questions about her relationship with this good-looking stranger. She could just imagine some of the speculation. Had she hired him because he was young and handsome? Did she hope he’d marry her and take over the ranch? Was she looking for a guy to warm her bed at night?