Stealing Her Heart, page 4
part #1 of Wild Hearts Series
As the nurse tried to help Etta out of her clothes and into a hospital gown, Etta knocked her hand away saying, “I’ll take off my shirt so the doctor can tend to this stupid superficial wound, but then I’m leaving. No need for a hospital gown.”
Brody, who had respectfully turned his back, turned back around. “For Chrissake, Etta, quit behaving like a petulant child. These people are trying to help you.”
“They can help me with my clothes on.”
Brody sighed in exasperation and tried again. “Etta, you’re going to do what they tell you to do, up to and including surgery and staying overnight. You don’t know me well enough to know that I don’t bluff. But believe me when I tell you, I don’t. I will arrest you and I will put you in cuffs if I have to. Now, do you want the nice nurse here to undress you, or would you prefer I do it? Mind you, I know which I’d prefer.” He laughed at the daggers that were cast from her eyes and leaned in close. “I know— jackass.”
The physician walked in and could feel the tension between Etta and Brody. “I’m Dr. Larsen. That’s a nasty wound you have there, Miss Ross. Would you mind if I examined it a bit more closely?”
Etta sat back down on the gurney, pointedly ignored Brody, and said sweetly, “Thank you, Dr. Larsen. I’d be most appreciative of your assistance.”
Brody snorted. “Yeah, right up to the moment things don’t go her way, then watch out. She kicks and hits, and no doubt bites if you’re close enough.”
“Dr. Larsen, would you kindly remove Ranger Jensen from my room. He has no reason to be here.”
Before the doctor could react, Brody sat down and said politely, “Ranger Jensen is just fine where he is. I’m still trying to decide whether or not Miss Ross is going to be arrested and I have no intention of taking my eyes off her.”
The doctor examined Etta’s shoulder and sent her for an x-ray with Brody trailing along behind her. As promised, he never once left her alone. Once she was settled back in the original exam room, the doctor came in and showed her the x-ray.
“As you can see, the bullet is lodged in your shoulder. We’d like to admit you and take you into surgery. We can remove the bullet and make sure the wound is thoroughly cleaned.”
“No thanks, doc. If you’ll just give me a local and remove it, I’d be appreciative. If that doesn’t work for your hospital, I’ll pay for the x-ray and take it and my shoulder to my physician who respects the rights of patients where their healthcare is concerned.”
“I’m not convinced that you’re making the best choice,” the doctor argued.
“Luckily for me, the choice is mine.”
The doctor signed and handed Etta the proper forms while he set up for the minor surgery. Brody watched as Etta stoically endured having the bullet removed, the wound cleaned, bandages applied, and injected with antibiotics. She was given instructions for aftercare as well as prescriptions for pain medicines and additional antibiotics. Etta allowed herself to be returned to the wheelchair and taken to the closest exit.
Brody was glad to see that Brad had parked his pick-up where it was easily visible and escorted Etta to the passenger side. “Give me any crap, Etta, and I swear I’ll swat you right where they gave you that shot.” He opened the door and allowed her to get in without his assistance. He reached across her to buckle her in and then went around to the other side. After climbing in and starting the truck, he looked across at her. “Home to the ranch?”
Etta said nothing but nodded. Brody headed out, keeping his own counsel as he drove silently to her place. He found it interesting that he was enjoying the silence between them. Not so much that she was refusing to talk to him, but more that it didn’t feel awkward.
He glanced over occasionally to see how she was doing. When he saw that she had silent tears coming down her face and was hastily wiping them away, he reached over and put his hand on her leg.
“I know you’re worried. He’s well-known. We’ll get him back. I promise.”
Brody could see the look of astonishment on Etta’s face. He doubted she would have thought he understood that her concern was for Timer and not for herself.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” She mumbled, her voice thick. She turned her face to stare out the window at the passing scenery.
He squeezed her leg reassuringly. “I don’t. We’ll get him back. When we get to your ranch, I’d like a good picture of him to put out with the warrant. I assume that you want to post a reward for his safe return?”
She nodded.
“Well, someone will want to take you up on that. I have friends in Mexico. I’ll get the word out to them, as well.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly.
“Shouldn’t that be ‘thank you, jackass?’” he quipped and was rewarded with a reluctant giggle.
What a delightful sound that is, he thought to himself, and vowed to hear it often.
“No, just thank you. You’ve been as kind as you could be in the circumstances, and I’ve been…”
“A brat?” Brody offered.
Again, she giggled. “Well, I don’t know that I’d say that, but in all honesty, I’d be hard-pressed to argue the point.”
They turned down the tree-lined drive to the ranch. As they pulled up, Brody admired how well-kept it was. Nothing seemed out of place. There was a perfectly manicured lawn, white vinyl fencing, and a large ranch house with a wrap-around porch. Off to the side, there was a nice barn, covered riding arena, and what looked to be a bunkhouse for the hands who lived there.
Brody turned off the engine and got out to help Etta. He suppressed a smile when she allowed him to open the door and give her a hand out of the truck. Etta grimaced and Brody kept hold of her arm to steady her.
“I’m fine, but now the real questions start.”
Brody followed her gaze to see an older couple approaching them quickly with a much younger woman close on their heels.
“What the hell is going on here?”
Brody recognized the man who had spoken as Paul Ross, Etta’s uncle, and the woman with him as his wife, Jo. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the woman trailing behind them might be Tara Cooper, the award-winning trainer who worked with Etta and Timer.
“I’m fine, Uncle Paul.”
“No, she’s not,” said Brody. “She’s been shot, had her horse stolen, been left on foot in the middle of nowhere, had the bullet dug out of her shoulder with only a local anesthetic, and in general been a major pain in my ass.” Etta’s look would have withered a lesser man, but Brody just laughed “What? Did I leave something out?”
“What do you mean had her horse stolen? Where is Timer?” asked the trainer.
Etta laughed. “I’ll be fine, Tara. Thanks for asking.”
Tara turned to look at her best friend and client. “Well, of course, you will be. But did someone really take Timer?”
Etta took a deep breath. “Well, kind of. We were helping…”
“You let this happen to my niece?” Jo Ross accused Brody.
“No, ma’am. She did this all by herself. I think the ‘we’ she was referring to was she and that big gelding of hers.”
“As I said, we were helping some mustangs get to safety.”
Brody noticed that Etta was not looking at either her aunt or uncle, who were not even trying to hide their irritation at her actions.
“I’d stopped for a rest and unsaddled Timer. The horses stampeded.”
“The horses were deliberately stampeded by rustlers with guns, one of whom shot Etta,” Brody corrected her.
Etta turned on him. “Do you want to tell this or may I continue without your editorial comments?”
“Oh, by all means, continue, but let’s not tap dance with the truth for your aunt and uncle like you tried to do with me.”
Etta’s Uncle Paul stepped closer. “Skirting around the whole truth is something Etta does with her aunt and me far too often. As for you, missy, you be nice to this man. Brody Jensen, isn’t it?” Reaching past Etta, he offered his hand to the tall Ranger at his niece’s side.
“Yes, Sir. As I was saying, the horses were stampeded. I heard the gunshots and found Etta trying to walk—to where I’m not sure— but to what I hope was some kind of safety. To make a long story short, I convinced her to go to the…” Etta snorted and he side-eyed her before continuing. “…to have her wound tended to. I brought her home because I thought she’d be more comfortable filling out all the paperwork here than at my office.”
Jo embraced her niece. “Well, of course she would be. Now why don’t we all go into the kitchen to cool off and I’ll get us something to eat. Tara, I’m sure the Rangers will need a picture of Timer. Go get Ranger Jensen here a few that he can use.”
As they headed to the house, Jo’s eyebrows raised as she seemed to notice the handsome Ranger made no attempt to remove his hand from Etta and either she didn’t notice or didn’t mind.
The cool of the farmhouse kitchen was a welcome relief. Brody noticed that everything he could see of the house was practical and comfortable as well as beautiful. He enjoyed sitting at the comfortable kitchen table and getting all the details for the warrant. He still suspected he wasn’t getting the complete, unvarnished version of what went down, but he also noticed Etta kept glancing at her aunt and uncle. He wondered if part of her reticence was because she wanted to spare them any more concern.
“Mrs. Ross,” he started.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ranger Jensen, no one calls me Mrs. Ross unless it’s Mr. Ross and he’s trying to remind me who wears the pants in the family. It’s Jo.”
“Well then, Jo, call me Brody. Thank you for your hospitality. I think I’ll head back to my office to file this and see if the others have been able to find out anything else. I’ll leave Etta here in your fine and capable hands.” He pointed his finger at Etta. “And you, Miss Ross, remember what I said and try to behave yourself.”
Etta rolled her eyes but said nothing. With that, he tipped his hat at Tara and started out the door, followed by Etta’s uncle.
“I want to thank you again for helping my niece. She can be a handful when she wants to be.”
Brody laughed. “I suspect handful is her default setting and she has to want or try to be something else.”
Paul Ross laughed “You’d be right about that. I keep hoping someday she’ll meet her match like I did when I met Jo.” He shook Brody’s hand and then turned back to the house.
If I have my way, Uncle Paul, she just did.
Chapter 6
Brody arrived back at the Rangers’ office and filed the necessary paperwork. He finished up there, checked on Lassie, and then headed the short distance to his own home and bed for some much-needed rest. Several hours later he woke with a hard cock, having dreamed of Etta Ross and how she might look naked, both draped over his knee and underneath him.
Looking down at himself, he chuckled and said, “Not now, ole son. We have work to do.” He stepped into the large shower and washed the dirt of the day off, turning it on cold to rinse so as to settle down his unruly member.
Arriving at the office as the sun was setting, he was quick to check if there was any news on the mustangs or the stolen gelding. He sat down to study the pictures of those tracks again. He needed to know where they led. He left his office and entered the bullpen of the Ranger headquarters, searching one of the large maps mounted on the walls.
“Looking for something in particular, boss?”
“At this point just looking. I think I’m going to take one of the jeeps and do a little more scouting of that area. You hold down the fort while I’m gone. If you hear anything about that show horse or we get a call from anyone out at the Ross place, give me a holler.”
“Will do.”
Etta, too, woke in an aroused state. She had dreamed of Brody Jensen taking her over his knee, whispering in her ear about how he was going to spank her, and what would come after that spanking. Her nipples were almost painful, as if they had experienced some rough use at the Ranger’s hands and mouth, and she felt distinctly let down that her nether region seemed to be in great need.
I need to get involved with that Ranger like I need a hole in my head.
She took a shower, careful not to get her shoulder wet. It was stiff and sore and the heated water pelting down on her back and neck felt good. She closed her eyes, breathing in the delightful steam, and had to stop herself from imagining what it might be like to have Brody in that shower with her—lathering up her body and helping her rinse off after his lovemaking only to start all over again. She shook her head as she got out and reminded herself that she had things to do and places to go before she allowed herself to sleep again.
Pulling on a pair of jeans, boots, and a light sweater to ward off the cool Texas night, Etta quietly slipped out of the house, careful not to awaken her aunt or uncle. She had avoided their questions earlier by feigning exhaustion and pain. Well, she might have exaggerated the exhaustion, but the pain in her shoulder had certainly been real.
Etta had always been glad that they left several trucks and trailers hooked up at all times on the other side of the barn. That way if someone had to leave in the middle of the night or there was an emergency, they were less likely to wake anyone.
Making her way into the barn, she saddled one of the other appaloosas they kept to ride for running the ranch. She loaded him up into the three-horse, slant load trailer. After quietly locking him in, she climbed into the truck and eased out into the night.
Before succumbing to sleep that afternoon, she had thought about where the rustlers might have been taking the herd and figured she had a pretty good idea of their destination. Determined, she headed that way.
Hobson and his men had allowed the horses to rest and graze but were now rounding them up to drive them toward the destination point where they would be loaded before their journey to Mexico began. He had spent some time on the phone during the day to see if there was more profit to be gained by trying to sell Ross’s gelding. He knew there was a reward out for his safe return but couldn’t figure out how he could collect it. He figured he’d keep the gelding with them in case an opportunity arose. If nothing else, he was big and in good weight, so would bring more than the small, scrawny mustangs.
At the cowboys’ urging, the small band of horses started moving in the direction the rustlers needed them to.
Etta figured Hobson would need to find a place to hide the horses during the day to prevent them from being easily spotted and had tried to determine where he might be taking them. There were only so many border crossings and only a few that didn’t have manned ingress and egress points from the United States to Mexico. Knowing she probably only had one chance, she made her best guess as to where they might have gone once they had disappeared over the top of the hill.
She parked less than half a mile away from the spot she thought they might be and then unloaded the horse she’d brought with her. She checked the girth, put his bridle on, and then tied on a halter and lead to be used for Timer when she located him. She checked the rifle this time, making sure it was loaded but with the safety on. Hobson wouldn’t catch her unawares and unprepared again.
Setting off into the night, she clucked the horse she was riding into an easy, ground-covering trot. Tracking in the dark was a bit above her skill level, but Hobson’s men had made it easy. Not only were they rustlers of a sort, but they were litterbugs. She followed the trail of empty, plastic water bottles, cigarette butts, candy wrappers, and other trash they had left along the way.
Brody checked his service revolver and then took the rifle out of the gun rack of the jeep and loaded it too. He wanted to be prepared in case he located Hobson. He broke into a jog and thought briefly to himself that switching out of his boots and into sneakers might have been a better choice. Cowboy boots were made for riding, not running across uneven ground.
Brody used caution every time he had to round a corner or top a hill. He always stopped and slowed his breathing and listened carefully to the night sounds. Even hearing nothing, he proceeded slowly. Finally, as he scanned the ground ahead of him with night goggles, he saw tire tracks. He bent down to feel them. They weren’t all that deep. Most likely the tracks of empty trucks. They also appeared to be fresh. Brody felt he was on to something. He checked his perimeter and contacted the office to apprise them of the new developments and to ask for back-up.
Etta, too, had been lucky. She’d found the place where the horses had been rested and was now able to track the direction they’d gone. No, it wasn’t easy to track in the dark, but following a whole group of horses headed in one direction was not outside the scope of her abilities. Even though she felt that time was slipping away from her, she kept her horse at a trot so as not to make too much noise. She wanted to creep up on the herd and the men trying to harm them.
Then Etta heard them— not the horses, but the sound of idling truck motors. She stopped her horse and dismounted quietly. She tied the horse to one of the bushes, retrieved the halter for Timer and her rifle, then began to edge closer to the men who were intent on their own nefarious business.
Brody found the waiting trucks. He called in the location and then got into position to wait for back-up before moving in to arrest Hobson and his men. He hoped his Rangers would arrive before the men got the horses loaded and ready to head to Mexico, but he also knew that he might have to make a stand. There would be little he could do to stop the rustlers once they had the herd.
He was preparing to move a bit closer when a slight movement on the other side of the rustler’s location caught his eye. He didn’t want his own men walking into a trap, so he made his way quietly around the outer edge of their camp in order to come up behind whatever it was. Halfway there, he realized it was a human—someone being as stealthy as he. Three-quarters of the way, he realized the shadow moving towards the rustlers was a woman. It didn’t take the deductive powers of Sherlock Holmes to know it had to be Etta.
