The High Country Rancher

“Would it help if I told you it was clinical? I was more interested in saving your life than exploring your body.” He wrestled with a rush of desire that closed his throat.

She gave him a wary stare as he reached for the door handle and opened it for her. “Let’s get you home.”

He closed the door behind her, went around to the driver’s side and climbed in. “Where to?”

“I live at 405 Cottonwood. It’s off Sycamore on the west side of town.”

“I know the street.” He fired the engine and pulled out onto Main, searching for the right words. Why was she so upset? He wasn’t sorry for saving her life; hell, he’d probably done himself a favor, but there had to be more to it. He’d never take advantage of a woman, especially one who was borderline comatose and not in control of her faculties.

Realization slammed into his brain. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Mariah Ellis had a boyfriend? Explaining what had happened to her and how he’d saved her was going to complicate her life.

“No one besides Doc Munsey and you and I have to know what happened. I’m willing to let it go unsaid if it’ll keep the peace between you and your…boyfriend.” He flipped on his blinker and turned right onto Sycamore Street.

“Thanks for that,” she whispered. “He’ll be thrilled.”

Mariah nibbled at her lower lip and stared out at the familiar street. It seemed like an eon since she’d last driven down it. So when in that short span of time had she left her straight-talking style twisting in the wind? She should just tell him she didn’t have a boyfriend. There was no one in her life; her job had taken care of that.

“There. The yellow house on the left.” She pointed it out and tried to relax. Cop. She was a cop, she needed to start acting like one, even if she didn’t feel the vibe and hadn’t for a long time. She still had a major case to solve. Baylor rolled to a stop in front of the yellow house, with a white picket fence and massive pots brimming with pink flowers on either side of the front steps.

He couldn’t shake the disappointment of knowing she had someone in her life. Hell, he was happy for her. She was a beautiful woman. He gritted his teeth and climbed out of the pickup, meeting her on the sidewalk before opening the gate and following her up the walk.

She stopped, fished in her pocket and pulled out a house key. “Come in for a drink before you head back.”

His first response was to pass, but he didn’t; instead, he followed her inside and watched as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Is sun tea okay?”

“Yeah.” Baylor gazed around the living room. The place was neat and appointed with cushy furniture. Her scent tinged the air, a mix of sweet and spicy. His gaze held on a piece of landscape artwork on the wall behind her beige sofa. Moving closer, he focused on the artist’s signature in the bottom right corner. Mariah Ellis.

“This is your work,” he said as she came into the living room with a glass of iced tea in each hand.

“Recognize the setting?” She smiled and he realized how relaxed she looked for the first time since he’d met her.

“The Seven Devils Mountain Range…from the Pappoose Creek side.”

“Very good.” She handed him the cold glass. “Do you want to see more?”

There was a note of excitement in her voice. Her eyes took on a sparkle he hadn’t noticed before. This was Mariah Ellis’s passion. This was what made her tick. Her art.

Moving down the hall, she showed him paintings of Mirror Lake, the Salmon River Canyon and a moose standing knee-deep in a pond at dawn feeding on moss.

“You should open a gallery. Your work is very good.”

She warmed under his praise and his breath caught in his lungs. There was something innocent about her, something as unspoiled as her art, and he wanted to kiss her in the worst way, but he reined in the urge. He’d probably get the other side of his jaw popped. Didn’t she already think he’d stepped over the line when he rewarmed her? How would she explain a kiss to her boyfriend? Frozen lips?

He took a deep gulp from his glass and turned toward the living room and escape. He’d fulfilled his obligation. She was home safe.

“Thanks for the drink.” He handed the glass to her at the door and glanced down at an open book lying on a small table.

His heart jumped in his chest. He reached out and picked up the high-school yearbook.

Staring up at him from the page was a picture of Mariah and Amy. Arms locked, leaning against a set of lockers. The caption read, “Friends Forever.”

His gut squeezed. He looked at Mariah. “You knew my wife, Amy?”

“We were best friends our sophomore year of high school.”

A wave of caution raced through him, leaving him cold inside where he’d been warm only moments ago.

This was personal. Her suspicions about his involvement in Endicott’s disappearance were fueled by her certainty about his guilt in Amy’s death. There would never be an end to it. He’d done everything he could to save her life that night, short of drowning himself.

He closed the book and put it down. “I’ve got a long drive back to the ranch.” He turned the doorknob and pulled the door open.

“Baylor.”

He paused without turning around.

“For what it’s worth, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He didn’t look back, just stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.

He’d see her again. He knew it. Come Monday morning she’d have her cop face on, and he’d have to prove himself all over again.

Chapter Three (#ulink_63bc2a8b-a26d-57b5-8d9a-386326b5d6a7)

“You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Young lady. Mariah mentally finished the sentence she’d outgrown a long time ago and closed her father’s office door to keep the gossip to a minimum. Everyone in the department seemed to already know she’d spent Friday night trapped on a mountain with a suspect. She had no idea how things got spread, but they did, like butter on a waffle.

“I told you my car went into the ditch in the storm. The electricity and phone lines were down. I had no cell service up there, and no way out. If Baylor McCullough hadn’t found me, you’d be hanging at the morgue right now identifying my frozen remains, so give it a rest.”

Chief Ellis’s mouth opened, then closed as he rocked back in his chair, and studied his daughter. “Do you still think he had something to do with Endicott’s disappearance?”

Mariah swallowed, digging for her feelings on a matter she’d been so sure of only days ago. Baylor’s guilt.

“I don’t know. But he’s hiding something. You should have seen his reaction when I spoke about Endicott. There’s definitely some animosity there.”

“Hell, yeah. Endicott pressed him to the wall. I never understood exactly why he went after him so hard. The evidence seemed to support Amy McCullough’s death as a tragic accident. But enough rage to snatch the man and make him go away? You got anyone else on the list?”

“I accounted for everyone Endicott prosecuted. They’re either walking a straight line, out-of-state, dead or back in custody. McCullough is the only one who still lives around here.”

“You’re lucky he doesn’t file a harassment suit against you. Make sure you play him straight. If he is involved, we need a clean case, no loopholes he could slip through.”

“Okay.” She stood up to leave, her nerves as tense as a race car driver’s waiting at the start line.

There was only one way to capitalize on her suspicion. She’d have to stake out the Bellwether Ranch. If she could find probable cause, she could get a search warrant. Maybe she could find what he was hiding. She just hoped it wasn’t Endicott.

BAYLOR MOVED PAST THE kitchen window for the third time in ten minutes, making sure he saw what he saw. He raised the binoculars to his eyes and adjusted the focus, dialing in the nose of the vehicle parked west of the ranch in a patch of trees a quarter of a mile away.

Detective Ellis’s white car. She’d been there since dawn. Watching, waiting for him to make a move. Amusement rippled through him. He put the field glasses down.