Counting On The Cowboy. Shannon Vannatter Taylor

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      “My lips are sealed. But does that mean I can’t tell about watching this one run from Rusty?”

      Chase chuckled. “As long as you don’t mention how he got out.”

      “I bet y’all wouldn’t laugh if his spurs were aimed in your direction.” Devree’s cheeks went pink, but her good-natured smile revealed only affection for her brother-in-law.

      “You’re right.” Chase sobered. “He could have easily hurt you.”

      “No harm done. Except for two years he shaved off my life expectancy.” She stood. “We better get to work. The hands are coming to move the old furniture out this morning.”

      “I emptied the interloper’s live trap and reset both.” He followed her lead. “Maybe the mouse population has decreased during our absence.”

      Devree closed her eyes for a second, then headed for the door. “Don’t worry, Chase. We’re on it. This wedding will go off without a hitch and the happy couple will have a pristine cabin ready for their honeymoon.”

      “I still think we should report it to the police.” Brock adjusted his hat.

      “No!” Chase cleared his throat. “It would get around town and Landry would hear of it for sure. Just keep an eye on things.”

      “Will do.” Brock followed Devree out. The guy he’d chased into the woods worried him. But he wanted to keep an eye on Devree most of all. What if she’d gotten to the cabin first? Caught Ball-Cap in the act. He could have hurt her. Once they were outside, he grabbed her elbow.

      She turned to face him with a puzzled frown. “What?”

      “I’m going to the hardware store to get new locks. I don’t want you going to the cabin alone.”

      “Trust me, I won’t. Too many mice for my comfort.” But her attempt to make light of the situation didn’t disguise what he saw deep in her eyes.

      Fear.

      * * *

      The dude ranch dining room was hopping with guests as the drone of multiple conversations filled the room. Typical Friday night. Devree sat in a secluded corner with Landry and Chase, as Brock gave a detailed recount of her bout with Rusty.

      “I wish I could have seen it.” Landry giggled. “I can’t believe you got him back in the pen all by yourself.”

      Devree shrugged, as if her rooster wrangling was nothing. “You expected me to turn into a screaming ninny?”

      “Well—yes.”

      It was good to hear her sister laugh, even if it was at her expense.

      But then Landry frowned. “I wonder how he got out.”

      Devree’s gaze met Brock’s, then shifted to her brother-in-law.

      “It doesn’t matter how.” Chase refolded his napkin. “It can’t happen again. What if he’d gone after a guest? Or a child?”

      “I guess you’re right.” Landry groaned. “But he’s the prettiest rooster I’ve ever seen. I hate to part with him.”

      The kitchen doors opened and Chase’s parents entered, headed their way with his chef dad carrying a covered roasting dish.

      “What’s this?” Landry’s hand went to her chest. “I thought we were having buffet along with our guests.”

      “We always try our new dishes out on family.” Chase’s dad, Elliot, took the lid off with a flourish to reveal a large Thanksgiving-worthy turkey.

      “Brock, I’m so glad you’re back.” Chase’s mom, Janice, squeezed his shoulders. “We always thought the world of you. And your folks.”

      “Thanks. It’s good to be back.” There were so many mixed emotions on his face Devree wasn’t sure she could keep up. A frown marred his brow, and she could tell his smile was forced. But his pale green eyes shone with happy memories. He seemed genuinely glad to be here, but jumpy as if he expected Becca to pounce on him at any minute.

      “We’ll leave you to your meal. I’ll need honest opinions.” Elliot wiped his hands on his apron, headed back to the kitchen, Janice trailing him.

      “What were we talking about?” Landry frowned.

      “Rusty.” Chase picked up the large carving knife and fork, started to work on the bird. “I’ve already taken care of it. He won’t bother anyone else around here.”

      Devree’s gaze dropped to the bird as Chase made a deep slice across the breast. On it’s back, all fours in the air. Why would Elliot try a new turkey recipe so far away from Thanksgiving? Or was it Rusty? Her eyes widened.

      As Chase doled out slabs of meat, her appetite fled.

      “Give me your plate, Devree.” Chase held a large slice of meat between the carving set.

      Mute, she shook her head.

      “Are you okay? You look rather pale.” Landry touched her hand.

      “I can’t eat him.” Her vision clouded. He may have been mean, but she hadn’t wanted him to die.

      “Who?”

      “I can’t eat a rooster I knew by name.”

      Chase guffawed. “I can assure you, this isn’t Rusty. It’s turkey.”

      Her eyes met his. “You promise?”

      “It’s turkey.” Landry squeezed her hand. “Rusty may be ornery, but he’s much too pretty to eat. What did you do with him, Chase?”

      “I gave him to the Whitlows. He’s alive and well and far enough away you’ll be able to sleep in tomorrow morning.”

      A relieved sigh whooshed out of her.

      “Can I have your plate now?” Chase grinned.

      She lifted her plate to accept the slice of meat as he lost his struggle with laughter. Again, at her expense. But she joined him. Soon Landry and Brock did too.

      Appetite returned, she bowed her head as Chase prayed over the meal. Amens rounded the table and she muttered hers.

      “The vegetables are on the buffet.” Chase picked up his and Landry’s plates, headed that way.

      Devree caught Brock’s gaze as she stood. She saw something different in his eyes—respect maybe?

      Whatever it was made her pulse kick up a notch.

      * * *

      Dread weighed heavy on Brock’s shoulders as he folded his napkin, set it by his plate. At least Chase and Landry hadn’t harangued him about his mom during СКАЧАТЬ