Something flickered in the depths of J.T.'s eyes, a blending of wariness and his own growing suspicion. "Caitlan?" His tone indicated that he wanted an explanation.
She shrugged negligently, belying the nervousness settling within her. "I told him they must have made a mistake."
Their eyes held for an eternity, his gaze searching and probing for the truth. Finally he released a long breath of air. "She's probably right, Randal."
"She's a fraud, J.T.!" Randal stepped up to the desk and planted his palms on the surface, leaning across. "She shows up out of nowhere, has free access to the ranch and house, and she isn't registered at Parson's. She's probably a gold digger of some sort, no better than Stacey-"
A muscle in J.T.'s jaw twitched. "Randal-"
"I was very thorough when I called Parson's," he continued determinedly. "The registration clerk, Jason, assured me that there's no Caitlan Daniels listed as a guest. If you don't believe me, then call yourself. Or does she have you too ensnared?" His eyes glinted with challenge. Digging into his jacket pocket, he tossed a piece of paper with a phone number on it to J.T. "Go ahead, and then I'll be more than happy to call the sheriff to come pick her up."
Indecision played across J.T.'s face, and his cousin's influence won the battle. With a sigh, he reached for the phone.
Caitlan honestly didn't expect J.T. to side with her after all the evidence Randal had just given him, but she couldn't understand why J.T. wasn't suspicious of Randal's overzealousness. With a sense of dread, she watched J.T. punch out the phone number for Parson's, identify himself to the person on the other end of the phone, then ask to speak with Hugh Parson.
J.T. glanced at Caitlan as he waited on hold for his call to connect to Hugh. She was chewing on her bottom lip, her face shadowed with an emotion similiar to worry. This whole confrontation in his office was bizarre: Randal's fanatical conduct, Caitlan's sudden anxiousness, and his own need to confirm that Randal was wrong about Caitlan. He didn't want to think that everything had been a lie with her, a setup of some kind.
Dammit, he didn't want to think she might be as cunning as Stacey.
"Rafferty, what can I do for you?" boomed the voice of the sixty-four-year-old Hugh Parson. "You callin' to offer some of that brawn of yours to help repair the bridge?"
J.T. grinned his fondness for the old family friend. "Sorry, Hugh. I've got my hands full here at the Circle R."
"Yeah, well, those damn county engineers don't know their heads from a hat rack!" Hugh grumbled. "At the rate they're going, I'll be bankrupt before they're through! Can't get people in, can't send them out. Can you believe this has happened? I'd of sworn that bridge was indestructible. It's been around since your father and I were boys. We watched them build the dang-blasted thing!"
J.T. gave a low whistle. "That long ago, huh? Maybe that's why it collapsed."
"Hey, watch yourself, boy!" Hugh's gruff retort held only affection. "Now, what can I do for you?"
J.T. met Caitlan's gaze, and she offered him a slight smile more tentative than confident. Clearing his throat, he addressed the older man, "I believe I have one of your guests here on my ranch."
"You do?"
"Yes," J.T. said, uneasy with Hugh's perplexed tone. "I need to know if you have a Caitlan Daniels registered at the dude ranch."
"Caitlan Daniels?" Hugh repeated the name slowly, as if running a mental index on all his customers. "Can't say the name sounds familiar, but then, I've got over fifty people registered right now. Unfortunately, I don't know everyone by name, but that doesn't mean she's not a guest here."
"Could you check her out for me?"
"I could, but the storm did a number on my computers and they're down," Hugh said with a regretful sigh. "Don't know when they'll be up and runnin' again. I can check with the guides and see what I come up with."
"I'd appreciate that."
"I'm sure if she says she's one of our guests, she is. Where else could she have come from?"
Exactly, J.T. thought. How many times had he speculated on that very same question?
"I'm just glad she wasn't harmed in that nasty storm," Hugh said, concern evident in his voice.
"She's just fine," J.T. reassured him. "So don't worry about her."
There was a pause on Hugh's end of the line, then, "If the bridge is out, how the hell did she get on Rafferty property?"
"She crossed the bridge before it was damaged."
Hugh swore. "No kidding?"
"That's what she claims."
Hugh released an abrupt laugh. "Stranger things have happened. In this business you learn to expect the unexpected."
Randal moved toward J.T.'s desk, fury contorting his features. "I called and they confirmed that she's not a guest!" he said in a burst of anger. "She's a fraud, I'm telling you."
J.T. stared at Randal. The injustice and rage in Randal's gaze spurred him to follow up on his cousin's accusation, if only to appease Randal. Caitlan's chin had lifted indignantly at Randal's slur, which gave J.T. a slight reassurance that her claim was fact, not fiction. Still, a sense of suspicion lingered.
"Hugh, Randal called earlier and talked to the registration clerk. Jason told him there wasn't a Caitlan Daniels registered there."
"With the computers being down, there's no way to know that for certain," Hugh replied. "Jason's a new guy, and everything's been so hectic around here. One little sleet storm and everything falls to sh-"
"Thanks for your help, Hugh," J.T. interrupted the man's tirade, more concerned with Randal's increasing temper.
"It won't be a problem if she stays at the ranch until everything gets halfway back to normal, will it?" Hugh asked hopefully. "We're looking into chartering a helicopter to transport food and supplies in and out, but until the bridge is repaired, the fewer people I have here to get in the way, the better."
"It's not a problem, Hugh. We'll keep in touch."
J.T. hung up the phone and looked at Randal. "The computers at Parson's are down, but Hugh seems to think she's more than likely a guest there." What other explanation could there be?
"She's lying!" Randal said through gritted teeth.
J.T. glanced at Caitlan, searching for the perfidious woman Randal claimed her to be. All he saw was the caring woman who'd saved him from death. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly tired of doubting her motives. "Caitlan's given me no reason to believe she's lying."
Randal's nostrils flared; then he spun around and glared at Caitlan. Without a word he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. J.T. winced as the sharp sound reverberated through his aching head like a cannon shot.
"I'm sorry." Caitlan's soft voice drifted over J.T. like a balm. "I didn't mean to cause trouble."
J.T. released a long, controlled breath. "No, I should be the one apologizing. I don't know what Randal's problem is." Letting loose a dry laugh, he plowed his fingers through his hair in an agitated movement. "Hell, who am I foolin'? I know exactly what his problem is. Too much booze and too many obligations and debts dumped on him by his old man. I guess I'd be pretty strung out if I were in his shoes."
"He's had a rough life?"
"Yeah, you could say that."
"Want to talk about it?" Her silky voice could have coaxed a confession from the devil himself.
Dropping into his leather chair, J.T. scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. He figured he owed Caitlan the truth after everything Randal had put her through in the short time she'd been at the ranch. Maybe if he explained, she'd better understand his cousin's resentment and bitterness. And maybe if he talked to Caitlan he could work out some of his own frustration over the situation. "You sure you wanna hear this?"
An encouraging smile on her lips, she lowered herself into the chair in front of his desk. "I've been told I'm a good listener."
And that's exactly what he needed right now, besides an aspirin for the splitting headache spawned by Randal's abuse with the door. J.T. leaned back in his chair. "My Uncle Boyd, Randal's father, never did care for ranching life. He was always looking for an easy investment. When some guy from town offered him a copper mine sure to produce millions, Uncle Boyd sold his portion of this ranch to my father, Jared."