Agent Daddy

“Nothing wrong with you a good dinner and a hot bath won’t cure,” he told Noelle. “That and one of Mrs. Murphy’s world-famous chocolate cookies,” he added, wondering why Faith and Noelle grinned at each other.

“The wee one is fine, too,” the housekeeper announced. Faith began dressing the baby again as Mrs. Murphy turned her attention to putting food on the table. The housekeeper eventually attempted to settle Colin in his high chair, but the baby had a stranglehold on Faith’s blouse and wasn’t letting go anytime soon. Mrs. Murphy wisely backed off.

Dinner was a tense affair. As usual, George Plum joined them, but instead of going over ranch business, everyone ate in stiff silence, because discussing the things they wanted to talk about—the chase, Gina’s absence—didn’t seem like a good idea in front of Noelle.

There were damn few details to consider, Trip realized as he chewed on a piece of crusty bread he dipped into his stew. Everything was so vague. There was nothing he could pin down, nothing he was sure about except that Gina was missing and Faith had been chased. Period.

He turned to Faith and found her staring at the big black window behind the sink, as though afraid it was about to shatter and let in a thousand demons. He had to know more about David Lee. And he wanted to know what had made her abandon their original plan and drive out to the ranch.

George finally spoke up. “Hal Avery is threatening to quit.”

Trip put down his fork. “He’s got a background in agriculture. We need him.”

“I know. Plus, if he goes, so will his brother, Paul.”

“Paul. Tall guy, red hair, good with pneumonia and scours?” Trip asked.

“Yep. The boy knows his way around animals.”

“Well, we need him, too. What does Hal want?”

“More money,” George replied.

“Give it to him.”

“If we give him a raise, then Paul will want one and then Duke and all the rest.”

Trip sighed. It didn’t matter that running a ranch had never been his idea of a dream job, he was in charge now, like it or not. “Is Duke still off the sauce?”

“Dry as a puddle in late August, far as I can tell. He’s a damn good mechanic.”

“Then if everyone is willing to settle for a modest increase, go for it,” Trip said.

“How much?”

“Modest,” Trip snapped. He took a deep breath and added, “You figure it out, okay?”

George patted his pocket, apparently feeling for the reassuring outline of his pipe, and grumbled, “Okay, yeah, sure. You get around to writing the checks for those invoices yet?”

“Later,” Trip grumbled as he pushed his plate away. Thinking of Neil Roberts, he added, “George, I want you around when we talk with the sheriff.”

“Yeah, okay. Listen, how about the auction on Saturday? They’ve got a Hereford bull listed. We could use new breeding stock. Do you want me to go, or do you want to do it?”

“You do it,” Trip said. Turning to the housekeeper he added, “Mrs. Murphy, your dinner was delicious as usual.”

She fluttered a little as she picked up his plate.

“You want I should take care of Buttercup tonight?” George asked.

“The sheriff isn’t due for awhile, I’ll do it myself,” Trip said. He got up and went to the back door. As he pulled on a coat and his hat, he looked at Faith. It was clear she’d given up trying to eat and was now just trying to stay ahead of the mess Colin was making as he banged his spoon against her plate. “Miss Bishop, would you mind coming with me out to the horse barn so we can talk a little before the sheriff gets here?”

Her gaze darted to the window, but she stood abruptly. “Of course I’ll come.”

She handed Colin to Mrs. Murphy, then leaned down and whispered something in Noelle’s ear that brought a smile to the little girl’s lips.

Trip tossed her a heavy work coat off a hook by the back door and she shrugged it on. It swamped her, but she gamely zipped it to her chin. The expression on her face as she preceded him through the door was that of a woman facing something she was terrified of.

Chapter Four

Faith glanced up at an overhead fixture to find snowflakes swirling through the stream of light. They melted the second they hit the ground. She bundled the large coat closer to her body, glad she’d worn boots to work that morning. Was it really possible only twelve hours had passed since she’d dressed for work?

The wind blew nearby branches against an outbuilding. A loose chain clattered against a metal post. She glanced around the well-lit yard but found little solace in the shadows creeping in from the vast pastures surrounding the house.

When she’d been attacked before, it had come out of nowhere with no provocation. She didn’t even remember the impact of the speeding car and when she’d learned the identity of her assailant it had meant little to her. She hadn’t experienced the same degree of fear she’d experienced tonight.

“Faith?”

She’d stopped walking—she was standing in the middle of the yard and Trip was almost to the horse barn. She trotted to his side, embarrassed by her lapse. He must think she was a nutcase.

“It looks like you’re building something over there,” she told him, pointing at some new construction she’d noticed near one of the outbuildings. She kind of hoped Trip might assume she’d been studying it.

“They started rebuilding the barn that burned down a few months ago, and then thought better of it,” Trip explained. “In the spring, we’ll tear down what’s there and plant the area.”

He was talking about the fire that had killed his sister and her husband. “It was so close to the house,” she said. “Where were Noelle and Colin?”

“With my brother-in-law’s family. You must be freezing, come on.”

The welcome shelter of the barn seemed to wrap her in its arms and she relaxed a little. “Who is Buttercup?”

“My sister’s horse.” At the sound of his voice, a gold horse with a buff-colored forelock and mane tossed her head over the half-open door of her stall and whinnied.

“Is she your horse now?”

He smiled as he looked down at Faith. He had a good face and a good smile. A great mouth. Hard not to speculate what that mouth would feel like against hers. Warmth spread inside at the thought of finding out.

A long pause was broken as he said, “How would it look for a manly guy like me to ride around on a cute little palomino named Buttercup?”

“Pretty silly,” she said softly.

“Exactly.” When his hand slid along the horse’s lovely neck, her own flesh quivered. Buttercup sniffed the brim of his hat as he added, “I’ll teach Noelle to ride her in the spring.”

Faith touched the horse’s velvety nose and was treated to an warm exhalation of breath that caught her off guard. She looked up at Trip again and found him studying her, and tensed as the silence between them stretched like a quivering thread.

He finally walked across the passage and entered an unoccupied stall, returning a second later with a cut of hay and a can filled with grain. He opened the gate and moved inside, the horse following him like a huge yellow puppy, deep rumbles of anticipation in her throat as Trip slid the hay into the rack and deposited the grain in a wall-mounted feeder.

A second later, he was fastening the gate behind him, his gaze once again on Faith. Her hand moved to her cheek, and then her hair, as she glanced down at the hay-strewn dirt floor.

“Aren’t there other horses, like for the cowhands?” she asked.