Rachel Lee – Cornered In Conard County (страница 2)

Dory slid into one of the chairs. “I’ve been living on my own since college. I can’t let George’s release take my independence from me. Anyway, there’s absolutely no reason he should want to find me. He served his time and I’m no threat. After all this time, we’re strangers. And, as you know, I need to get back to my job.”

Of course, those brave words ignored the fact that she’d run all the way to Conard County, Wyoming, from Kansas at Betty’s invitation, when she’d learned her brother would soon be released and the nightmares had returned. Packed up and fled, if she was honest about it. Saying George wouldn’t want to find her felt like whistling past the graveyard.

Betty, even back in the days when she taught Dory’s high school English class, had been blunt, not one to pull her punches. So it bothered Dory that Betty had felt she should come here.

Apparently Betty didn’t quite believe George wouldn’t come looking for Dory. Or maybe she had just believed the move would ease Dory’s nightmares. So much for that.

The coffee went down well, as did a cookie, and soon her fears eased enough that one of the cats, a ginger tabby called simply Ginger, was willing to leap on her lap and beg for pets.

Such a soothing scene, Dory thought as she rubbed the ginger cat’s cheeks and elicited a surprisingly loud purr. Her relaxation deepened, and she thought that maybe she’d better get a cat herself.

“So therapy’s out?” Betty asked quietly.

“I’ve been through years of it. I doubt they can do any more.”

“Maybe not, but you’re older now.” Then Betty hesitated. “I have a friend I want you to meet this morning.”

Dory stiffened a bit. She’d been here a week, and so far she’d avoided getting drawn into a social circle. She didn’t know if she was ready for that, and anyway, she’d never been good at it.

“Oh, relax,” Betty said, reading her reaction correctly. “Someday you’ll want out of that shell, but I doubt it’s going to be right away. You’ve been in it for too many years. No, this is a special kind of friend. He’s the K-9 officer for the sheriff. He trains the dogs and other officers. Anyway, I want you to meet him.”

“Why?”

“Well, apart from the fact that he’s got two nasty ostriches he never wanted and can’t get rid of, which I find hysterically funny and interesting, he has lots of dogs. I think you need a dog to keep you company.”

Dory stared at her. “Why? I was thinking about a cat.”

Betty smiled. “Think about it, Dory. What’s going to make you feel safer? A guard dog or a guard cat?”

Almost in spite of herself, Dory laughed. “You make a point.”

“I always have,” Betty said.

Back in those long-ago days when Betty had been her sophomore English teacher, Betty alone had showed the infinite patience Dory needed to let someone become close to her. Betty’s campaign had lasted well beyond high school until, finally, surprise of surprises, Dory realized she had a true friend.

No one else had come so close to her.

“Oh, and you’re not moving today,” Betty said, reaching for a cookie.

Dory preferred deciding things for herself. “Why?” she asked, a bit sharply.

Betty ignored her tone. “Because there was a voice mail message this morning. It’ll be two more days before your high-speed internet is wired in. You need that to work, don’t you?”

“They promised to do it today,” she answered, but realized getting upset about it wouldn’t help anything. Since she got here, Betty had offered to take her out to the community college to use the internet there. At home, Betty had little need for a high-speed connection. But her connection was good enough to pick up email, so Dory hadn’t taken Betty up on her offer to go to the college. Anyway, the college didn’t have what she needed.

But she couldn’t stop working indefinitely and it had been too long already. Email sufficed for a short time only. “I need my connection,” she said presently. “Two more days, huh?”

“What exactly do you do that keeps you online most of the day?” Betty asked. “I get the souped-up computer with all the whiz-bang gizmos, multiple monitors, a graphics card that would break anyone’s bank account...but you can get your email here, right?”

Dory smiled faintly and poured herself a little more coffee. “I don’t do graphic art all by myself. I work with a team most of the time. Being able to chat back and forth and share files is essential.”

“I see.” Betty furrowed her brow. “Well, I can call the company again and see if they can hop to it. I know Wil Gladston, and he should be able to pull a string or two.”

Dory reached out to touch Betty’s arm. “A couple of days more won’t make or break my situation. Everyone knew I’d be off grid for a while. And everyone knows I’m moving. At least we’re not under a tight deadline pressure right now.”

“If you’re sure,” Betty said. “Things happen so differently in a small town, you know. Nobody’s in a rush without a reason. I’m sure if I explained about your job...”

Dory shook her head. “It’s all right,” she insisted. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy, and I can check email on your connection, as you said.”

She decided it was time to change the subject. She didn’t want Betty worrying about her. “So this guy with the dogs? You said he has ostriches? Really?”

Betty’s face smoothed, and a grin was born. “Two of ’em. Nasty critters.”

“Then why does he have them?”

“He doesn’t know.” Betty laughed. “It’s such a funny story. Cadell’s dad died unexpectedly. When Cadell came home for the funeral, he found he’d not only inherited the ranch, but those damn ostriches, as well. No clue why or how they got there.” She leaned forward a bit, still grinning. “Now I gotta tell you, that man is patient beyond belief and seldom cusses. But those birds can wind him up enough to cuss a blue streak. A very inventive blue streak. A show well worth watching.”

Dory was smiling herself, verging on a laugh. “Why doesn’t he get rid of them?”

“You think he hasn’t tried? Oh, my.” Betty threw her head back and laughed. “I’ll let him tell you. It’s a story and a half.”

Several hours later as she dressed to go meet this K-9 guy with Betty, Dory wondered why she should need protection. Her brother always had been good to Dory before that night. More tolerant than most brothers that age with a girl of seven. Their relationship had been warm and loving.

Until that night. Every time she remembered him standing there drenched in blood, holding out his hand, holding a bloody knife, she wondered what his intentions had been. Would he have killed her, too? She still didn’t understand why he’d killed her parents. Or how it was he hadn’t gotten a life sentence.

But all those unanswered questions ate at her, and the nightmares proved that she was afraid of him to this day. Maybe that fear was groundless, but he had killed their parents and offered no good explanation for any of it that she had ever heard, not even much later when she was old enough to ask the questions.

Impatient with herself, she yanked on a polo shirt to go with her jeans and tried to look forward to seeing the nasty ostriches. And the dogs. She’d always liked dogs.

Just one step at a time, one day at a time, until her emotional upset settled once again. She’d be fine.

* * *

CADELL MARCUS STOOD near the ostrich pen, eyeing his pair of nemeses with restrained dislike. Except for some pretty feathers, these were the ugliest-looking birds he’d ever seen. He was a tall man, but they towered over him, a fact they never seemed to let him forget. Dinosaurs. Why weren’t they extinct?

But there they stood, edged into the small pen he sometimes needed to use because, occasionally, despite ostrich demands, he needed his corral for things besides them.

Nor did he ever let himself forget those birds could kick him to death with a few blows. Not that they tried, but they’d sure given him the evil eye often enough, and when they stopped being scared of him and quit hunkering down, they had discovered great delight in pecking at his cowboy hats. Two expensive ones had bitten the dust before he’d realized what he really needed was a football helmet when he came within six feet.

He’d rounded them up into the small pen today, because Betty Cassell was bringing that friend of hers out to see about a guard dog. Betty had given him only the sketchiest of accounts as to why she felt it necessary, so he hoped he’d get more of the story when they arrived.

In the meantime...those damn ostriches would have to behave whether they liked it or not. At least the electrified fencing contained them. He couldn’t imagine trying to catch them if they ever got out. He’d need Mike Windwalker, the veterinarian, with his magic dart gun.

They were glaring at him now. He glared back. “You two don’t know how lucky you are that I don’t send you to a boot factory.”

He finally heard a motor approaching and the sound of tires on the gravel. Both birds redirected their attention and backed up, settling low to the ground in a protective posture. “Stay that way,” he suggested, then went to greet his guests.

A smile lit his face the instant he saw Betty. Something about her always made him smile. But the woman who climbed out the other side of the car made him catch his breath. He wouldn’t have thought a living woman could have the face of a Botticelli angel, complete with long blond hair, but this one did. She caught and held his gaze until he realized he was being rude.