Home on the Ranch: Oklahoma: Defending the Rancher's Daughter / The Rancher Bodyguard

What he suddenly wanted to do was to put her fears to rest. He wanted to tell her that rungs to lofts rotted, that storms spooked cattle and a good man had been thrown to his death from his horse.

He wanted to tell her that she was overreacting, falling into her pattern of histrionics, that she needed to deal with her grief and to get on with her life.

He broke the gaze and instead focused on the rock once again. He picked it up and turned in over and in that instant everything changed.

Chapter 3

The moment she saw the expression on his face, she knew. He dropped the rock to the ground and stepped backward, as if the rock was a rattlesnake, and as his gaze caught hers, she knew.

“What?” she asked, her voice nothing more than a mere whisper. She had no idea what he’d found, what he thought, but she knew it was bad.

He walked to where she stood by the horses. “We need to call the sheriff. He needs to get out here.”

“What did you find?” Thick emotion pressed tightly against her ribs, making it hard for her to take a deep, full breath.

His eyes, normally so distant, were now filled with emotions that frightened her. There was a softness there she’d never seen.

The grief she’d been fighting off since the morning they’d found her father’s lifeless body swelled up inside her and unwanted tears sprang to her eyes.

“Gray didn’t just fall and hit his head on that rock.” His voice was steady, but soft. “If I was to guess, that rock was used to beat your father in the head.”

Every ounce of oxygen seemed to expel from her body. “I knew it.” She managed to gasp as she stumbled away from the horse and turned her back on Zack. Tears tumbled down her cheeks as painful sobs racked her.

Murdered. She’d known it in her heart. The moment she’d found her father lying motionless on the ground, she’d known deep inside that something wasn’t right.

Her father had been murdered, and along with this knowledge came the complete and painful acceptance of his death.

“Katie.”

She sensed Zack right behind her and she turned blindly into his arms. As she buried her head in the sunshine freshness of his T-shirt, it didn’t matter that she’d disliked him for as long as she could remember. It didn’t matter that she believed him responsible for most of the unhappiness in the early years of her life.

All that did matter was that she needed somebody to hold her tight and his strong arms enfolded her and pulled her against his solid body.

She leaned into him, tear after tear escaped.

She’d never see her father again. She’d never again spend evenings on the porch, rocking and listening to him reminisce with stories of her mother who had died when Kate was a baby. She’d never have the opportunity to prove to him that she was as good as any son might have been.

Grief slowly gave way to anger. Her father hadn’t died a natural death, nor had he been taken in a tragic accident. Somebody had stolen his life, stolen him from her.

As the sorrow ebbed away, she became conscious of where she was and whose arms held her. Zack’s chest was solid muscle and his arms radiated strength even as he awkwardly patted her on the back.

She had once promised herself that Zack West would never see her cry again and within twenty-four hours of seeing him again, she was in his arms weeping.

She jumped back, mortified by her momentary lapse of control. “I’m sorry,” she said as she wiped her cheeks.

“No apology necessary.” He stuck his hands into his pockets, his features devoid of all emotion.

She looked away from him, needing a moment to gain control of herself. She took several deep, cleansing breaths, then looked at him once again.

“I need you, Zack. I need you to find out who did this to my father. If it takes two days, then I need you for two days. If it takes a year, I need you for a year. But I won’t rest until I know who is responsible for this.”

He held up his hands and backed away from her, as if what she asked was too much. “Whoa, let’s take it one day at a time. The first thing we need to do is get back to the house and call Sheriff Ramsey.”

“But you’ll see this through?” She wasn’t sure why, but it seemed imperative that she get a definite commitment from him. “I need to know that you won’t quit until my father’s murderer is behind bars.” She needed to know that the outrage that burned in her was just as white hot in him.

“One day at a time, Katie. That’s all I’m willing to commit to right now.” His eyes held a distance she didn’t understand, a remoteness that confused her.

“What is your problem, cowboy?” She stepped closer to him. The anger that coursed through her needed a target and he was the most convenient around. “My father loved you like a son, and he thought you loved him, as well, but obviously he was mistaken about your feelings for him.”

She started to spin away from him but gasped as he reached out and grabbed her by the wrist. He pulled her closer, so close she could see the tiny flecks of gold in the depths of his green eyes, smell the faint scent of coffee on his breath.

Her heart seemed to stop beating as his gaze held hers intently. For a moment she felt the crackle of electricity in the air and with it the knowledge that she’d pushed him too hard.

“Don’t ever doubt the fact that I loved Gray. I told you, we’ll take this one day at a time. If that’s not agreeable to you, then get somebody else. My feelings for your father are mine alone and the way I deal with his murder isn’t any of your business.” He released her wrist. “Now let’s get back to the house.”

He mounted his horse and she did the same, her skin still burning from contact with him and her heart pounding just a bit unsteadily.

“That boy’s nothing but raw emotion,” Gray used to say about Zack. “He just hasn’t figured out how to control it yet.”

Of course, at the time her father had spoken of Zack, she’d had the feeling he was really trying to tell her something about herself.

Apparently, Zack had learned control. Or maybe he’d lost his ability to have any emotions. She wasn’t sure which, but as they rode back toward the house, once again his features gave nothing away of his internal thoughts or feelings.

“If you tell any of my men I lost it and cried, I’ll personally take my shotgun and shoot you in your cold, mean heart.”

He gave her a wry, tight smile. “Now that’s the Katie Sampson I know and remember, always using vinegar when sugar might work as well.”

She bit back a retort and for a few moments they rode in silence. Once again she found herself wondering what on earth had possessed her to call him of all people? He’d never pretended to like her, had always shown her nothing but disdain.

Her father had not only loved Zack, but had admired him, had believed him to be an honorable man. That’s why she’d called him, because she knew no matter what he thought of her, he’d do what was right. He’d find Gray’s killer.

“You’re sure of what you saw on that rock?” she asked, breaking the silence that had grown distinctly uncomfortable.

“There’s blood on both sides, and on the underneath there’s some matted hair. That’s not consistent with a fall.” He grimaced. “I wish I’d had on gloves when I picked it up.”

“Do you think Jim might be able to get fingerprints off it?”

“Anything is possible. But, even if he does manage to get fingerprints off the rock, they won’t mean anything unless the perpetrator has a record with prints on file.”

Kate frowned as they rode into the stable. At the moment everything seemed so complicated, so overwhelming. She wanted to fix the damage from the stampede, to catch her father’s killer and whoever had spooked the herd the day before, then get on with her life.

They dismounted and she gestured to a tough-looking man who was in the process of mucking out a stable. “Brett, would you unsaddle our horses and brush them down?”

Brett Cook tossed the shovel aside, a surly expression on his deeply tanned, scarred face. Kate tried to ignore the expression. Brett could be difficult and she should let him go, but at the moment she couldn’t afford to lose another ranch hand, even a bad one.

As he approached them, Kate made the introductions. “Brett, this is Zack West. He’ll be working for me. Zack, Brett Cook.”

The man thrust out a beefy hand and Zack shook it.