“Yeah. It was kind of funny business,” Nate said. “That strand of barbed wire was wrapped around the calf’s neck. The theory is it got tangled in it, and when it tried to get loose, it twisted the wire tighter.”
“Is that right?” But the words gave Chase an eerie chill for all his outward show of calm. He was almost prepared for Nate’s next statement.
“It’s kinda hard to figure how the calf got tangled in the first place, and how there wasn’t much sign of struggle in the grass. And it’s a really strange coincidence that the end of the wire got wrapped nine times.”
The hangman’s knot. Another message that had been meant for him, but he hadn’t gone to get it. The noose on the desktop had been the first warning. The strangled calf was the second. His blood ran cold as a solitary cloud passed in front of the sun. These warnings had to be the product of a twisted mind. There was no way he could outguess what Culley O’Rourke might do next. Even if he could, how could he go against Maggie’s brother? Either way, he would be damned. It boiled down to which risk was he willing to take—the chance that the next time Culley might use something other than a dumb animal in his attempt to terrorize Chase, or the chance of losing Maggie. She would never forgive him if he caused something to happen to her brother. How far would Culley go? Was he just trying to scare him, or was there true vengeance planned? Or—was this a clever ploy to cause trouble between him and Maggie so she would leave him and go to Culley?
All he said to Nate was, “That’s quite a coincidence. If a man had a guilty conscience, he might make something out of it.”
“He might,” Nate agreed and moved away from the fence to saunter bowlegged to the mouse-colored horse standing passively in the middle of the corral while Ty dismounted.
That evening, Ty was already sitting at the table when Maggie saw him for the first time since morning. It wasn’t until dinner was finished and he excused himself to leave the table that she noticed how stiff and awkwardly he moved, favoring his right leg.
“Ty, are you hurt?”
“Naw.” He shrugged away his aches, but not very convincingly. “I banged my knee a little. Nate gave me some liniment for it. It’ll be all right.”
She watched him limp out of the room, then started clearing the dinner dishes from the table while Chase finished his coffee. When she returned from the kitchen, Chase was staring at his cup with a hard frown. She suddenly realized how quiet he had been throughout dinner, his thoughts apparently elsewhere.
“Is something bothering you?” She paused beside his chair.
He looked up, seeming to bring himself back to the present with an effort. He smiled, but the frown never completely left his face. “Yes. You.” He caught her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her soundly, then lifted his head, his lazy eyes regarding her possessively. “That’s what I wanted for dessert.” His hand stroked her thigh and hip.
“What were you thinking about before I came in?” she persisted, caressing the angular planes of his cheek.
“You would have been proud of our son today. He rode one of the green four-year-olds we’re breaking. He was bucked off four times, but got back on each time and rode the horse to a standstill.”
“Chase, he could have been hurt,” Maggie protested with a quick frown. “He doesn’t know the first thing about riding an unbroken horse. He’s been on some young, untrained horses, but never one fresh off the range.”
“He has to learn how it’s done sometime.”
“But—” His mouth was on hers to silence her argument. When she made a half-hearted attempt to elude his kiss, he caught her lip between his teeth and chewed it gently. Her hands wound into his hair to force his mouth fully onto her lips.
Chase didn’t tell her about the calf that had been strangled and left with the hangman’s message around its neck. He knew better than she did how fragile the feelings she had for him were. Too much outside pressure might snap them before they had a chance to grow strong. Every minute, every hour, every day he could gain just altered the odds a little more in his favor.
He already knew she was his. He could never let her go again.
Chapter XXXIV
Maggie reined in her horse and maneuvered it to open the gate to the Broken Butte range. She was to meet Chase out here somewhere. He’d suggested this morning that she come out this way on her afternoon ride. In these miles of wild country, there were only three places where they would be working a herd. She rode through the gate and closed it behind her, trying to decide which of the three to try first. Then she saw a rider cantering down a slope to meet her.
“Hello, Maggie.” Buck Haskell touched the rolled point of his hat and reined his horse, swinging it around beside hers. “Chase asked me to meet you and guide you back.”
“I wondered where I was going to find him,” she admitted, smiling briefly at the gregarious cowboy Chase counted as his friend.
They started out at a trot. “You’re looking beautiful today, Maggie. I think marriage agrees with you.”
“It does.” Chase had warned her that Buck was prone to flattery. He did have a boyish charm that was irresistible, his wide, appreciative grin prompting her smile to be more natural and less polite.
“I have to tell you that when Chase told me you two were getting married, I didn’t think you had a Chinaman’s chance after what happened to your pa.” He shook his head wryly. “But I should have known that Chase always gets what he wants.”
The breeze seemed to take on a chill at the reference to her father. It was better if she didn’t let her thoughts dwell too much in the past and open old wounds. She could almost hear Chase saying, “Hold on tight to what we have, Maggie.” No, she wouldn’t look back, not that far back.
“In this case, it’s what we both want,” she said.
“I can see that.” Buck grinned at her. “Chase thinks the sun rises and sets on that boy of yours. You want to talk about a proud papa—that Chase, he’s one. That boy means everything to him. ‘Course, that’s natural for a father to feel that way about his son.”
“Yes.” Maggie listened to the praise and felt uneasy.