A Cowboy at Heart, page 14
Staring up at the ceiling, the moonlight slipping around the old blinds, painting bars of light on the pinewood walls, Trey scrubbed his face with his hands. He wasn’t going to sleep tonight.
If he were back in town, he’d head downstairs to the closed bar and have a drink. Something short and cold and lethal. The brandy in the cocoa hadn’t done a bit of good.
But going downstairs now would be a huge mistake. He didn’t want to wake Lisa.
In just that instant, he heard something move downstairs. The loft was open, so there was nothing to stop him from hearing any sound from below.
Was Lisa having trouble sleeping, too?
But what if it wasn’t her?
Slowly, carefully, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and yanked on his jeans. Hearing the sound again, he crept across the bare wood floor. The tracking skills he’d learned in these mountains served him well as he moved silently.
He reached the rail, then leaned over, hoping to see what was going on. If Lisa was having as much trouble sleeping as he was, he didn’t want to scare her. The shades downstairs were at half-mast, so the reflection of the moonlight came in and lit the great room with a pale glow.
A figure moved. Crap. That was not Lisa.
But Lisa was down there. He could see the corner of the bedroom door. The intruder hadn’t gotten there yet. And Lisa thankfully wasn’t investigating.
In his younger days, he’d have been dumb enough to leap that rail and try to land on the man. He knew now all he’d do was hurt himself. Instead, he reached for a weapon. There wasn’t anything. But the short ladder stairs ended at the edge of the kitchen—right next to the block of knives on the counter.
How many times had he slid down those rails as a kid? Plenty—and that skill hadn’t abandoned him. He hit the parallel rails and was at the bottom in an instant. The landing wasn’t loud, but it wasn’t quiet, either. That didn’t matter. He had the butcher knife in his hand in the next instant.
* * *
LACK OF SLEEP was starting to become Lisa’s norm. She hadn’t done much of it since coming to Telluride. Between her grandfather’s antics, the late nights at the bar—and now being here at the cabin with Trey, she was beginning to think sleep was a thing of the past.
Looking out the window again, she didn’t see anything. Had she imagined it?
Then she heard a sound. Something—someone—was moving around inside the cabin. She froze, not even breathing, not wanting to be heard, not wanting to miss the sound if it came again.
A thud, not of someone falling, but of a step?
Had Trey heard it? Was he asleep and oblivious? Was he making the noise?
Slowly, Lisa moved toward the door. The air was cold since the fire had died down. The wood was ice beneath her feet. She held her breath and prayed the board didn’t squeak. First step was good. Then the other. Still silent.
She’d left the bedroom door ajar, hoping to let the firelight and warmth in. Another creak sounded.
Without a weapon she wasn’t going to be able to defend herself. But she wasn’t keen on the idea of being a sitting duck, either. She glanced around. Something. Anything. Her hairbrush was the only thing she found. It was better than nothing. At least it made her feel that way.
Moving silently to the door, she peered out through the gap between the door and its frame. Nothing. Just the dim light from the embers. Wait. A shadow? She waited, not wanting to be seen if it was someone intent on hurting them.
What if it was Trey? Wouldn’t that be good for their growing relationship if she brained him with her hairbrush?
She barely moved, but whoever was out there must have heard her. She wasn’t sure who moved first, but the door flew open, and she barely moved back in time to avoid being hit. She screamed. The high pitch of it echoed off the rafters and startled even her.
* * *
“WHAT THE...” The man’s voice was rough in the wake of Lisa’s scream.
Trey recognized him first because she heard him say, “Win? Jeez!” He hit the switch and the dim light above the kitchen sink illuminated the room. “What the blazes are you doing?”
The old man stood there, looking as startled as she and Trey.
She hurried to her grandfather. “Grandpa?” she finally asked.
“Lisa?”
Everyone talked at once, which delayed her realization that she was staring at the barrel of her grandfather’s old shotgun. She gulped.
“Put the gun down, Win.” Trey’s voice was closer now, reassuring, and she breathed a huge sigh of relief when her grandfather moved the gun away. She gulped in cold air and tried to slow her pounding heart.
“What are you doing here?” Grandpa grumbled and moved back across the room. He cracked the gun and tilted it to spit out the shells. At least it wasn’t loaded now. He set it beside the stone fireplace and then hunkered down to stir the embers and add a couple of split logs. “Dang, it’s cold out there. This feels good.”
Only then did Trey put the knife back in the block with a resounding thunk of wood on wood.
No one said anything more until the flames had caught the wood, and light and heat washed over the room. Unfrozen now, Lisa moved closer to the fire, and her grandfather. She wanted to reach out and hug him, wanted to call her mother and tell her he was okay, wanted to smack him for scaring them half to death.
“You didn’t answer my question.” The old man straightened and the glare he gave her didn’t invite her to hug him. “What are you doin’ here?”
“Looking for you.”
“Well, you found me. You can go home now.”
“Really?” She parked her hands on her hips, suddenly realizing she was wearing her nightgown. Luckily, it was large, bulky and flannel. “It’s the middle of the night. If you haven’t noticed—” She glanced at the door. “And it’s snowing.” She crossed her arms over her chest and moved closer to the fire to keep herself from shivering. “And I’m not leaving until you answer my questions.”
“What questions?” He frowned.
“I’m not calling Mom until you answer where you’ve been and what you’ve been up to.”
For the first time since he’d scared her, he smiled. The welcome sound of his chuckle filled the room. “Yep, your mom would want those answers. That’s my girl. She’s tough.”
“Tough?” Lisa stared at him. “Relentless is a better word.”
He laughed again. “I taught her well.”
“That still doesn’t tell me where you’ve been for two weeks.”
His smile and laughter vanished, and he stared into the growing flames. “I don’t know if I should say.”
“You better give us something, old man.” Trey cut in. “We didn’t come all the way up here, half freezing to death, to turn around and go back for nothing.”
Win’s gaze darted between them. “Maybe I should be asking the questions. How did you manage to connect with my granddaughter?” He looked over at Lisa. “Should I be concerned?”
“Stop trying to distract us.” Lisa turned and walked into the bedroom, stomping a bit to warm up her feet and to burn off some of the adrenaline that wouldn’t quite go away. She grabbed an old robe and yanked on a pair of socks. It helped, but she still shivered.
Opening her backpack, she pulled out the papers she’d been carrying with her for nearly two weeks. Maybe this would help.
Trey had started a pot of coffee and made them each a cup while she’d been gone. He handed her grandfather one and set hers on the coffee table. She didn’t take it, didn’t do anything except walk over to where her grandfather sat and slapped the hand-drawn map on the table in front of him. “Explain.”
He stared at the paper, and his eyes glistened in the dim light. He shook his head before reaching out to pick up the page.
Her grandfather had some serious explaining to do. Lisa glanced at the clock. It was nearly two in the morning. “What are you doing here? Where have you been? We’ve been worried.”
The old man moved slowly to stand and, avoiding her, stirred the fire again. He tossed another log on the embers, staring down at it as the flames grew. He stretched his hands out toward the heat.
Lisa looked at Trey then, and she saw her concern reflected in his eyes.
“You okay, Win?” Trey moved closer to the old man. “Where have you been?”
Win took a deep breath and settled down on the hearth, staring into the fire.
Lisa scrutinized her grandfather. The light over the sink and the flicker of the flames was the only illumination. The lines on Grandpa’s face seemed deeper. His hair looked thinner, and she wondered when he’d combed it last. She bit her tongue as the questions poured into her thoughts.
“Drink some of that.” She pointed at the cup. “It’ll help warm you up.”
“I’m fine. The fire’ll do the trick.” He softened his tone, as if realizing he’d snapped at her. He did wrap his hands around the warm cup for a long moment before he finally took a sip. The big white mug provided his face cover, and he took his time drinking.
“Normally, I’m serving you whiskey.” Trey settled on the couch, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees across the table from Win.
“Yeah.” Win lifted the mug in a salute. “This is better right now.”
They sat in silence for a while, waiting.
“Okay,” Trey sat straighter. “We’ve been patient. Now you owe us—or at least Lisa—an explanation. She’s been worried about you.”
Win chuckled. “You don’t need to worry about me, girl. I been taking care of myself almost seventy years now.”
“No, Grandma was taking care of you until last year,” she petulantly pointed out. “Where have you been?” Her patience faded. “What are you doing here tonight?”
He shook his head. “I thought you were claim jumpers,” he growled.
“What?” Why would he assume that? “Oh. The treasure.”
“Now, Lisa—” Grandpa lifted a hand, as if to stay her words. That wasn’t going to work.
“Don’t you ‘now, Lisa,’ me. I’ve been worried about you, and you’re running around on a wild-goose chase.”
“It ain’t a wild-goose chase,” he snapped, and set the mug down with a thud. “But right now, I’m not at liberty to tell anyone.”
“At liberty?” She glared at him. “What does that mean?”
Grandpa simply shook his head. They let him sit for a long minute.
Then Trey leaned forward again. “You’re not going to be able to brush her off. You have met your stubborn granddaughter, right?”
Win sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. The rasp of his whiskers against his rough hand seemed loud. He looked every one of his years, and guilt washed over her. The expression on his face was one she hated. The one he got whenever Mom berated him or nagged him about something. She’d always sworn she wouldn’t do that to him, to anyone. She backed off.
“You’re exhausted and cold.” Lisa touched Grandpa’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just concerned.” She stood and walked over to the couch. “We can talk tomorrow. I shouldn’t be so pushy.”
“No. You got a right to be concerned.” He stood and moved over to stand in front of her. He left the mug sitting on the tabletop. “I—uh—know you’ve been in town for a while.” He had the sense to appear chagrined. “I should have let you know I was okay, but I didn’t dare.”
“What? Why?”
The old man sighed. “There’s a lot you don’t understand. And I don’t have the energy to go into it tonight. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”
Disappointment took over, and she resisted the urge to push him. “Okay.” She gave in, but reluctantly. “We all need some sleep.” Both Grandpa and Trey looked as tired as she felt. “You can have the bedroom.” She tilted her head toward the master. “I fit better here on the couch.”
“Oh, no.” Grandpa laughed. “Your grandma would come back and smack the heck out of me for doing that. I’ll be fine out here.”
Lisa hesitated, realizing he wouldn’t change his mind. She’d come by her stubbornness honestly. “Are you sure?”
He didn’t answer, but grabbed the familiar afghan. “Get on to bed, kiddo. Morning’s coming quick.”
Lisa stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss on that rough cheek. The adrenaline that had kept her humming at a fever’s pitch for the past couple of weeks was quickly melting away. Her eyelids were heavy. Maybe now she could sleep.
Tomorrow was soon enough for answers, she reminded herself. At least he was home and safe.
* * *
TREY WASN’T QUITE ready to sleep. And he wasn’t buying the old man’s stalling technique. As he watched Lisa walk into the bedroom, he frowned. Why had she backed down? Concern for the old man? Exhaustion? Something else?
“You been taking care of her?” Win’s voice was soft, and if Trey hadn’t known him so well, he’d have resented the threat in it.
“Trying to.” He turned around to face Win. “But it ain’t easy when I have no idea what or who to protect her from.” Would Win share information with him now that Lisa was in the other room? “How did you hear she’s been in town?”
Trey waited. Win simply puttered around the old couch, making a bed out of the thing. He didn’t speak or answer Trey’s question. When he finally sat down, it was with an air of defeat.
“We aren’t the enemy, Win.”
“I know.” Again, silence stretched out and the old man simply settled down to sleep.
With a sigh, Trey headed for the loft. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “You got anything to share?”
But Win only said, “Thanks for lookin’ after her. I appreciate it.” The fire snapped and crackled, but Win didn’t continue.
Looked like Trey would have to wait, just like Lisa, until tomorrow.
But when morning came, the afghan was neatly placed just where it had always been on the back of the couch. And Win was nowhere to be found.
Again.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I’M GOING TO kill him. Plain and simple, once I find him again, I’m going to kill him.” Lisa smacked the old frying pan on the burner.
Trey leaned against the counter, wisely keeping his distance. He’d never seen her in quite this temper before. It was an interesting display. He couldn’t help but smile.
She looked amazing with the color high in her cheeks and the fire in her eyes.
“Don’t you laugh at me.” She shook the spatula at him. “Or I might kill you, too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Trey turned away and opened the cabinet with the plates. Since she was making breakfast, the least he could do was set the table. Besides, it put distance between them, and distance was safest in the current situation.
Under normal circumstances, they’d be racing after Win, but two things kept them here. One, they had no idea where to even look, and two, Win had left a note. Brief, and to the point, it told them he was safe, and he’d be home when he finished his business. Instead of “Love, Grandpa” or “Sincerely” he’d simply signed it, “Go home.”
Lisa was not happy with any of it.
The bacon snapped and popped in the cast-iron skillet, and the eggs she was frying sizzled enticingly. Several minutes later, she sighed. “Why is it that I only make you breakfast food?”
“We made soup and sandwiches last night.”
“True.” She competently filled plates with the grease-laden feast. “But you did that one.”
He tried to judge her mood, the one underneath her anger at her grandfather’s desertion. Whatever it was, she was covering it well with bluster.
Lisa set their plates on the table and sat down. For a long minute, she stared at hers, poking at the bacon with her fork.
Trey gave her time and space to sort through her thoughts and decide if she was going to eat or not. After taking only a few bites, she set her fork down and settled for drinking her juice. “Can I ask you something?” he finally asked.
“Sure.” She was almost too eager, as if she wanted to get out of her own head.
“You backed off last night. Why didn’t you push him to answer you?”
Lisa stared at him for a long moment, then carefully set her empty glass down on the table. She kept her hand wrapped around it, though, as if she still needed something to hold on to.
“I—” She took a deep breath. “My mother is always pushing Grandpa—and everyone else for that matter.” Her voice went soft on that last part. “She’s always on his case about things. He gets this look on his face when she does it, like he resents her.”
“He seemed proud of her for being tenacious last night.”
Lisa nodded. “He says that, but—” She paused. “But when she’s that way with him, he always seems...hurt. As if he wants her to trust him.”
Trey waited for her to elaborate. He didn’t have to wait long.
“He got that same expression on his face last night. I...” She stared at her empty glass, twisting it around on the tabletop. “I don’t want him to see me like that. He’s a grown man, and I admire him. I love him just the way he is—imperfections and all.”
Trey nodded, any words he’d hoped to say lodged behind the lump in his throat.
Trey recognized that admiration—admiration that could be blind. He’d known Win since he was a kid, and the man had always been fair and decent to him. But Win was hiding something. Something big, and Trey couldn’t escape his own distrust.
He’d admired his grandfather like that. Once. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not with anyone.
* * *
LISA WATCHED TREY put the last of his things into his backpack. There wasn’t much, so it didn’t take long. After breakfast, while she’d cleaned up the last of the dishes, he’d gone out to prepare their equipment.
