Chapter Four

He bathed in the icy creek, hoping the cold would rid him of the images of Josie, her body flushed with desire. But while the freezing-cold water curbed his desire temporarily, it did nothing for his mood.

He called Texas, dialing Brandon Williams’s number. Four days ago when he’d called Williams to tell him that he’d gotten a lead on the stolen jewels, the man hadn’t been exactly appreciative.

“I’d put that unfortunate incident behind me,” he snapped. “Nice of you to call and remind me of my loss.”

Williams, a physically fit man in his late forties with a small fortune and an appetite for expensive things, was a pain in the neck. Clay couldn’t wait until he could return the jewels to the obnoxious man and hopefully prove to himself that the thieves hadn’t gotten the security plans from his desk.

“I got a lead on Raymond Degas.”

That had definitely surprised Williams. “Really? Where is he?”

“On the move. I intend to stay with him and see where he takes me.”

Williams believed he’d never see his precious jewels again. That was enough of a challenge for Clay, even if he hadn’t felt he might be responsible.

“Have you found my jewels?” Williams asked now without preamble.

He gritted his teeth, his already-bad mood darkening. He wished now he hadn’t promised to call Williams daily. He wanted to say, “Get the money ready to return to the insurance company,” but instead he said, “Not yet.” With Raymond out of hiding, Clay had the feeling that it was just a matter of time before he found the jewels, and he couldn’t wait to see Williams’s face when he handed them to him.

“I’m making progress,” he told Williams. “He broke into a local ranch here last night.”

“Really?” Williams actually sounded interested.

Clay told him about the tack room break-in, but left out anything about Josie. He didn’t want Williams to know that he suspected Josie, let alone that Raymond led him right to her.

“Keep me informed,” Williams ordered, and hung up.

Clay turned off his cell phone and cursed. He wanted this over with as quickly as possible. Also, the less time he spent around Josie, the better. He knew Josie felt the same way about him.

He finished dressing and rubbed his jaw. He needed a shave and a decent night’s sleep. As he headed toward her cabin, his stomach growled and he added food to his list of needs. He could smell coffee and cinnamon toast. He stopped at the sight of Josie on the porch, having breakfast with Ivy. A shave, food and sleep weren’t all he needed.

His conviction to nail her for the robbery faltered as he watched her with her daughter, watched how loving, tender, patient and sweet she was with Ivy.

He smiled at one distinct memory of her as a kid trying to ride some rough stock her father and older brothers had forbidden her to go near. He’d watched her from the fence rail, knowing the minute her father and brothers turned their backs, she’d try to ride that blamed green horse.

She hated anyone to tell her she couldn’t do something and she resented her bossy brothers. Unfortunately, that day she’d gotten bucked off and broken her arm. But Clay had always admired her grit.

He frowned and pushed the memory away, reminding himself that she was now in a different trouble league. Jewel theft. And this time, he wasn’t silently cheering her on from the sidelines. He was the one who’d have to take her down, and he feared she was up to her pretty little neck in this mess. He just hadn’t figured how yet.

When the blue Honda drove up and the woman he’d seen last night in the stables went up to the cabin to stay with Ivy, he followed Josie down to the stables, keeping himself hidden. He figured she knew he’d be around and fairly close, but he didn’t want her to see him. Not yet, anyway.

He’d expected her to disappear into the stables for several hours of horse feeding and stable cleaning. Instead she reappeared moments later, leading the wild stallion he’d seen last night toward a round, enclosed pen. The horse jerked at the halter she had on him and snorted and kicked.

His chest constricted. Anyone could see that the stallion was dangerous. Especially in the wrong hands. What did Josie think she was going to do with the beast?

He followed her until she disappeared into the door of the pen, the stallion obviously upset and anxious. On the far side of the building, he found another door. Inside, a small viewing area had been cut out of the side of the enclosure. He opened the door and slipped in. The area was small with a single bench. It ran in front of a long, narrow window that looked down into the pen. He didn’t sit but stayed back in the shadows to watch.

Josie stopped in the center of the circular pen to rub the flat of her hand over the horse’s forehead, her movements slow, graceful, gentle. The stallion snorted and jerked his head, ears up and back as Josie slid off the halter.

Sensing its freedom, the stallion took off, running around in a circle, obviously nervous and tense.

Josie pulled a coil of light rope from beneath her jeans jacket and let the bulk of it drop to the dirt floor. The horse eyed her, looking as wary as Clay felt. Josie held the stallion’s gaze as, from the center of the pen, she began to pitch the line at the horse’s flank, sending him cantering around her.

What the hell did she think she was doing? A horse like that could be unpredictable. Dangerous. At any moment, the stallion could turn on her and kill her before she could get out.

“Fool woman,” he cursed.

He spun around at the sound of a soft chuckle behind him to find an elderly woman with a cane standing in the doorway. She didn’t seem surprised to see him as she let the door close behind her.

“Are you familiar with this type of horse training?” she asked, her voice stronger than he’d expected. She was tall, rawboned and weathered, with sharp eyes and a determined air about her. A horsewoman. She used the cane to maneuver herself over to the window and the bench in front of it. She wore a walking cast on her left ankle and seemed to belong here. He took her for the ranch owner.

“I’ve heard about it,” he said.

She chuckled again as she took a seat on the bench. “Please join me.”

He wondered if she had any idea who he was. Or what he was doing here. She didn’t seem to care as he sat next to her. Her attention was on what was happening in the ring below them.

Anxiously, he watched Josie pitch the line at the stallion as he cantered around the fifty-foot circle. The horse watched Josie as closely as she appeared to be watching him.

Suddenly she flicked the line in front of him. The stallion swung around and ran in the opposite direction, keeping close to the wall, his eye still on her.

“Watch his inside ear,” the elderly woman said as she leaned forward on her cane.

To his surprise, while the stallion’s outside ear continued to monitor his surroundings, the inside ear locked on Josie.

“Watch his head,” the woman ordered.

The stallion dipped his head, turning it slightly toward Josie, and settled into a steady trot.

“He’ll start licking and chewing and running his tongue outside his mouth,” the older woman predicted.

Sure enough.

“It’s a show of respect,” the woman said, looking over at him. “And a willingness to cooperate.”

Clay sat up, leaning toward the window as Josie dropped the line, then angled both her body and her gaze away from the horse. The stallion slowed, then stopped to look at her.

Clay held his breath. Josie seemed so small inside the pen with the powerful horse. Too small.

Then she did something Clay couldn’t believe. She turned her back on the stallion.

“Fool woman,” he breathed, his heart pounding as he feared what the horse would do. “She’s going to get herself killed.”

“Then you don’t know Josie O’Malley,” the woman said as she put a hand on his arm to keep him from rising.

The stallion approached Josie from behind, but she didn’t turn. Just inches away, the horse reached out with his large head. Clay held his breath, his heart pounding.

The stallion touched his nose to Josie’s shoulder. She turned slowly, and he watched as the horse let her rub the spot between his eyes.

Amazing. Josie had this high-strung, unbroken horse eating out of her hand. He stared in disbelief as she turned and walked away and the stallion followed her like a pet dog.

He wouldn’t have believed it, especially after seeing the stallion in the corral last night. The horse had had that wild look—the same look Clay had glimpsed in Josie’s eyes a time or two.

But now as he watched her, a thought hit him right between the eyes like a brick. The way she handled that stallion… If Josie had been able to tame that wild stallion, then maybe she’d somehow been able to smooth-talk Diablo into letting her ride him.

“Well?” the elderly woman asked, jerking him back from the thought.

“She must have worked with the horse before,” Clay said, unwilling to accept what he’d just seen.

“Are you always so skeptical and suspicious?” the woman beside him asked, those keen eyes on him.

“I just know that horses are like women. Unpredictable. Often dangerous. And it’s usually a mistake to turn your back on them.”

She laughed and held out her hand. “Ruth Slocum. Owner of the Buffalo Jump Ranch. And you are…”

“Clay Jackson,” he said, not at all surprised by the strength he found in her handshake.

She slanted her head, still openly studying him. “I understand you’re here investigating a crime?”

“Unofficially. I followed a suspected jewel thief to your stables last night.” He didn’t mention his suspicions about Josie. Not yet.

“I heard someone got into the tack room, but a jewel thief? What would a jewel thief want in my stables?”

“That’s the question, isn’t it?” he said, glancing down into the pen at Josie.

Ruth Slocum followed his gaze but said nothing.