J.T. took care of nature's call and, instead of returning to the shack, he walked along the edge of the creek, heading toward the spot where he'd been ambushed the day before so he could investigate the area. The sun warmed his back and a clean, chilly breeze blew. Up above, a blue sky greeted him, stretching on for as far as the eye could see. Except for the damp soil beneath his boots there wasn't any evidence of the tempestuous sleet storm that had hit yesterday.
The water in the creek was higher than normal, a good indication that the storm had dropped a couple of inches of rain, which he always welcomed. The water flowed from the mountains down to the pasture for his cattle. From the looks of the rapidly cascading water, he surmised there were no more blockages upriver.
Finding the severed tree resting by the side of the creek, he squatted at the base of the trunk and examined the cuts in the bark indicating an ax had been used to fell the tree.
Someone had intentionally sabotaged the creek so the water supply to the cattle would be cut off. Had that same someone intended for him to find the blockage? He had proof the whole scene had been a setup of some kind-an aching head and a woman who'd saved him from a sure departure from earth.
He shivered at how close he'd come to meeting his death, and the thought of never seeing his daughter again. Laura was his life, a twelve-year-old pixie whom he adored and would do anything for. Knowing too well the devastation of losing someone you loved, J.T. was grateful God had seen fit to spare Laura from losing him. Especially at such a tender age.
"The shack is cleaned-"
Startled, J.T. stood, spun around, and crouched, ready to face his adversary. His heart pounded wildly in his chest and a shaft of pain detonated in his head. He hadn't heard Caitlan approach-no crunch of boots over the soil and brush, no rustle of clothing, nothing.
"Damn! Don't sneak up on me like that." Straightening, he speared his fingers through his hair and took a breath to calm the pitching in his stomach. "After what happened yesterday I'm strung as tight as a bow."
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "I only wanted to tell you the fire in the wood stove is out and the shack is straightened. We can start back to the ranch." She held up a bulky knapsack for him to see. "I packed some beef jerky and filled a canteen with bottled water." She thrust her other hand toward him. "And I found a jacket in the cupboard for you."
The vise of pain in his head eased and his pulse returned to normal. He took the jacket, staring down at Caitlan's upturned face. "Thanks," he murmured, shrugging into the jacket and zipping it. He noticed she'd put on her own jacket. "I'm beginning to think you're a regular girl scout."
"I just like to make the best of a situation."
"So do I," he agreed, wondering if taking advantage of her damp, parted lips would be considered making the best of a situation. Her hair looked soft and inviting with the sun dancing upon it. The strands ruffled about her head like a curtain of silk, enhancing those bluer-than-blue eyes of hers.
Looking away, he absently kicked a small rock with the toe of his boot. "I wanted to check out the area before we left. I was hoping to find something to give me a clue as to who might have done this. All I know is that the tree was purposely cut and situated across the creek to stop the flow of water to the main pasture."
Frowning, she glanced at the crystal-clear water rippling downstream. "Why would someone do that?"
"Hell if I know." Frustration gnawed at him.
"The only thing I can figure, if this was a deliberate sabotage attempt, is that the water would back up and flood the pasture, making it too marshy for grazing. But that doesn't explain why I got clubbed."
She transferred her gaze back to him. "Why would someone want to harm you?"
"I don't know."
Her brows creased, and J.T. found he wanted to reach out and smooth the wrinkle with his thumb. Thrusting his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans, he stared out across his land. "Maybe a transient hit me over the head." Even to his own ears, the explanation sounded like a last-ditch effort to convince himself he wasn't on someone's hit list. "Maybe he wanted my horse, and that's why no one has come looking for me yet. If Quinn never made it back to the Circle R, Frank, my foreman, probably thinks I spent the night in the line shack and am out assessing any damage done by the storm."
"Maybe, but you said the tree was cut deliberately. Why would a drifter go to that much trouble-?"
"Yeah, I know," he interrupted, anger coiling inside him. "Maybe I'm just making excuses because I don't want to believe I have an enemy nearby, or that I'll have to watch my back twenty-four hours a day." He glanced at her. "At any rate, when we do get back I'm going to tell everyone I had an accident, that I slipped and fell and knocked myself out and you found me."
"Why not tell the truth? That someone tried to kill you?"
"I don't want whoever is behind this stunt to panic because everyone is searching for him. I want this person to feel confident so he'll try something else. I plan to get this son of a bitch, Caitlan."
She worried her bottom lip, her eyes clouding with concern. "I don't think that's such a good idea."
J.T. resented being disputed by a woman, especially one he didn't really know. He leaned close, making sure she saw how dead serious he was. "It doesn't matter much what you think, Caitlan. This is my ranch. While you're at the Circle R you'll follow my rules. Got that?"
Her chin thrust out and she met his gaze steadily. "Yes, sir."
Why did he get the feeling she was mocking him? "I owe you a great deal," he conceded softly. "You did save my life."
One of those secret smiles curved her mouth and she shrugged off his gratitude, as if saving lives was a regular habit of hers. "I just happened to be at the right place at the right time."
"Lucky me, huh?"
"I'd like to think so."
Something inside J.T. shifted at her softly spoken words. A sharp pang of emotion he vaguely recognized as longing pierced him. Rolling his shoulders to shrug off the sensation, he grasped her elbow and guided her around the tree. "Come on; let's get moving. Once the sun goes down it gets damn cold. No offense to the stew and peaches you made, but I have to admit I'm looking forward to Paula's chili and cornbread."
"No offense taken." Caitlan fell into step beside him as he started away from the creek through an open pasture. He let go of her arm and she lost that delicious warmth he seemed to generate within her. Curious to know more about him, and wanting to fill the silence between them, she asked, "Who's Paula?"
His stride was steady yet reserved, to save his energy for the long trek ahead. "My foreman's wife. She keeps an eye on my daughter, Laura, while I'm working. She cooks for us and takes care of the main house."
Caitlan slung the knapsack over her shoulder. "You have a daughter, but you're not married?"
"No."
The word was spoken with such finality, Caitlan automatically thought the worst. "Did your wife die?"
His gaze cut to hers, a sardonic smile on his lips. "No, she left me for something better and more exciting."
Caitlan's cheeks grew warm. "Oh, I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he replied, bitterness seeping into his deep voice. "It was for the best. She's been gone almost ten years."
His tone was cold and harsh and didn't welcome further scrutiny of his ex-wife. Casting a glance at the chiseled lines of his profile, she noticed the grim set of his mouth and the deep furrow of his brow. Both belied his attempt to remain unconcerned about the topic. "Don't you ever get… lonely? I mean, not having a wife and all?"
"No. I have Laura."
His pace picked up, forcing Caitlan to quicken hers to stay by his side. "That's not what I meant."
"The only thing I miss is a warm body to share my nights with. Sex, Caitlan." His jaw hardened and he shot her a scathing look. "Other than that, I don't have any use for a wife. And my personal life is really none of your business."