The Legacy of Copper Creek Page 3

  Whit raised a brow. “Pretty pricey digs. You must travel with some high rollers.” When she didn’t respond, he frowned. “How did you happen to go from Ghost Mountain to Copper Creek?”

  “I was on my way to see someone.”

  “And you just happened to get sidetracked along the way? How did you get to these highlands, with no transportation? And what are you doing way out here in the middle of nowhere?”

  “So many questions.” She took in a breath and crossed the room, settling herself in one of the chairs in front of the fire. She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “I got up here to…your”—she emphasized the word—“cabin by walking. Of course, there was no snow, so it wasn’t as impossible as it sounds.”

  “How long ago?”

  “I’ve been here eight days now.”

  He nodded, his face a study in concentration.

  Seeing it, she gave a puzzled frown. “You don’t seem surprised. What’s that look about?”

  His mouth relaxed into a grin. “At least I know that much is the truth.” Before she could ask more, he added, “The trash can out back is full of empty cans and boxes. When my wranglers stay here, they have orders to carry the trash home with them, so it isn’t tossed around by wild critters. And a few minutes ago you knew where to find clean dish towels. You knew exactly which cupboard held the various plates and bowls. You didn’t learn that in a day.”

  She swallowed, even more aware than ever that she wasn’t dealing with some brainless hick.

  “So you’ve been here for eight days, after climbing to the highlands. Did you have a destination when you started?”

  She looked away. “No.”

  “But you were in a hurry to get as far away as possible. What were you running from?”

  “Not what. Who.” Her voice lowered. “I’m running from a man.”

  “An angry lover? An ex-husband?”

  “No.”

  “Who, then?”

  “I don’t know his name.”

  “Uh-huh.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Okay. What do you know about Mr. No Name?”

  “Not much, except that he’s evil and I believe if he finds me, he’ll do his best to keep me from telling what I saw.”

  “What did you see?”

  “I didn’t actually see him do anything wrong, but I heard him threaten another man.”

  “Threaten what?”

  “To make him sorry if he told what he knew.”

  “Did Mr. No Name say what the other guy knew?”

  “No.”

  “Who was the man Mr. No Name threatened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where did this happen?” His tone lowered with annoyance. “And don’t tell me you don’t know. It’s beginning to sound like an old-time comedy act.”

  She almost smiled before biting her lip. “Just outside a town called Red Rock.”

  Whit nodded. “I know Red Rock. About a hundred miles from Copper Creek. Where were you and these two men when you overheard this threat?”

  “I was standing on a rancher’s porch, hoping to ask directions. I was lost, and my rental car’s GPS system quit on me. The door between the porch and kitchen was open, and two men were standing in the kitchen. One was white-haired and wearing overalls and a plaid shirt. I figured he lived there. The other was wearing a suit and tie and certainly didn’t look like a rancher. The white-haired man was upset about something and started calling the other man a thief and a liar. That’s when Suit-and-Tie grabbed him by the front of his plaid shirt and said he had two choices—keep his mouth shut and take the money or go to the police, who would never take his word over that of a man of the law. But if the old man tried to report him, he would find himself the victim of a ‘terrible accident.’ His words, not mine.”

  “What did you do while all this was being said?”

  “I was upset. I started to turn away, and both men heard me and stepped apart. I ran to my car. When I got there, I realized that Suit-and-Tie had run after me. Just as I started to drive away, he grabbed at the open window of my car and caught a handful of my hair. I looked over and saw his eyes, and I was so scared I floored the gas pedal and drove away. But he saw my face. He knows what I look like. And I know, without a doubt, if he sees me again, he’ll do whatever he can to keep me from repeating what I saw and heard.”

  Whit’s voice was as calm as hers was agitated. “And you know all this because…?”

  She shook her head. “You don’t understand. I saw his eyes. They were…they were pure evil. So evil, I think he’d even kill me to keep me quiet.”

  “And how did all of that happen to bring you here?”

  “I was driving as fast as I could through Red Rock, where I got stopped by a police officer for speeding. When I tried to tell him why I was going so fast, I had to pass a Breathalyzer to prove I was sober.”

  Whit grinned. “I’m not surprised. It’s a hell of a far-fetched story. What was his reaction?”

  “He told me Suit-and-Tie couldn’t be a lawman around there. He was the only officer in Red Rock besides the chief, and neither of them wore a suit and tie in their lifetime, except to weddings and funerals. Then he calmly told me that if I wanted to protest the fine, I could hire a lawyer and appear the following week before a judge.”

  “So you paid the fine.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t see that I had any choice. I couldn’t spend a week in Red Rock.”

  “Why?”

  “I had to get out of there. I was afraid that Suit-and-Tie was tailing me.”

  “Tailing you? I guess that proves one thing. You watch a lot of cop shows on TV. All right. You paid your fine. By check?”

  “Cash. It took almost all I had left, and then I got out of town as fast as I could.”

  “And then?”

  “I was looking for a place to spend the night when I saw Suit-and-Tie again. He drove past while I was waiting for traffic to clear, but when he spotted my car he turned around. I saw him in my rearview mirror and knew I had to disappear. I drove like a maniac until I lost him. Then I turned onto a dirt lane and just kept driving until I ran out of gas.”

  “At which point you started walking up a mountain until you found this place?”

  She got to her feet and began to pace. “When you say it like that, it sounds stupid. But honestly, I was so afraid of seeing those evil eyes again, that’s what I did. The dirt road I was following led to an old abandoned ranch. When I realized there was nobody around to help me, I just left my car where it was and called the car rental agency to tell them the approximate location of their car. They said there would be an additional fee on my credit card for picking up the car. I figure by the time they’re through with additional fees, my bank account will be maxed out.”

  “And you got here by…?”

  “Walking. I just kept walking up these hills. And here I am.”

  Whit studied her before biting back a smile. “That’s good, Goldilocks.”

  Her head snapped up. “Good?”

  “You tell a whale of a tale.”

  “But you don’t believe it.”

  “Not a word of it. But you told it really well.”

  “Thanks.” She gripped her hands together and gave a sigh of annoyance. “I had all night to rehearse.”

  “Yeah. That’s what I figured.” He carried his mug to the coffeepot simmering over the fire and filled it before turning. “Okay. So you’re here for whatever reason, which you don’t care to share with me, and now that you’ve been found out, what’s your next move? Is there a Plan B?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t have one.”

  He glanced out the small window, where a curtain of snow was falling. “I’m sure by the time we’re able to leave, you’ll figure it out.” He managed a lazy smile. “All that work has me revved. How about a game to pass the time?”

  She had the look of a deer in the headlights before she composed her features and shot him a gla
re guaranteed to freeze a man’s blood. “Sorry. I’m not into games, Cowboy.”

  When he realized her misunderstanding, he muttered, “You must have been hanging out with some pretty bad dudes.” He crossed to a cupboard and held up a deck of cards and a board game. “I was talking about poker or Scrabble. You play, don’t you?”

  She looked so relieved, he couldn’t help smiling.

  “I played when I was a kid.”

  “Even better. Let’s start with Scrabble.” He took a seat at the wooden table and opened the board before digging into a bag for a handful of letters, laying them out in front of him. “How about a penny a point?”

  “I don’t have any money left.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I’d be happy to accept your IOU. It’ll make it more interesting.” He studied the letters. “Take a seat. First one able to make a word gets to start.”

  As she sat and reached into the bag of letters, a slow smile touched her lips and she grabbed a pencil and pad of paper. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Cowboy, but just for the sake of honesty, I’ll keep score.”

  “Suit yourself. I should warn you, though. I’m considered something of an expert around the bunkhouse.”

  “Oh, I’m sure those brainy cowboys are a real challenge.” Her tone was as smug as his.

  Whit stared at the board as Cara carefully laid down her last letters. “What’s that?”

  “Abacus. It means—”

  “I know what it means. How’d you get another A?”

  “I just dug one out.”

  He looked down at the X and Z in front of him. He’d been hoping for a vowel, and now the bag was empty. “I guess I’ll have to declare you the winner. Again.”

  “Let’s see.” Cara began tallying up the points before looking over with a triumphant smile. “You owe me seven dollars and twenty-five cents.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to check those figures.” He circled around the table and bent over her shoulder.

  As he did, she breathed him in and felt a quick little flutter of nerves. For the past hour she’d been forced to sit across the table from him, watching those midnight blue eyes narrow in concentration or crinkle with joy whenever he came up with an impossible word. She’d been absolutely enthralled at the range of emotions that crossed that rugged, handsome face. And it was handsome, made even more rugged with the growth of dark hair on his cheeks and chin.

  “All right. The numbers tally.”

  He dug into his pocket and counted out the money, dropping it on the table in front of her. “You play this game like a pro. I thought you said you hadn’t played since you were a kid.”

  “What I said was I played this game when I was a kid. I’ve also been known to pass the time beating boyfriends at it when they started thinking they were smarter than me.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll give you this. You’ve got a way with words, Goldilocks.”

  “You’re not bad yourself, Cowboy. I expected you to be easy, but it was a challenge just to keep up with you.”

  “Uh-huh.” He chuckled. “Goldilocks, any time you’d care to sharpen your vocabulary, just let me know.”

  “You do the same.”

  He stretched his arms over his head. “All this competitiveness has made me hungry.”

  She looked over, trying not to stare at those long, lanky legs accentuated in the faded denims and that muscled torso and flat stomach. “Tell you what. We could play one more game, double or nothing. The loser makes dinner.”

  He shot her a look of surprise. “You never quit, do you? Especially since you’re on a winning streak.” After a moment’s hesitation, he nodded and took the seat across from her. “Okay. Loser makes dinner.”

  They bent over the board, each studying the letters they’d fished out of the bag.

  “I’ll start.” Whit set out the word sexy.

  Her eyes rounded. “An S and a Y. You’re good, Cowboy.”

  “Maybe I’m inspired by my opponent.”

  She looked up sharply. “I’m not sure how to take that.”

  “You’re the one who’s good with words. Are you going to tell me you don’t know you’re sexy?”

  She felt her cheeks grow warm.

  A moment later she laid down the word hot.

  His smile grew before he set down the word body.

  She couldn’t stop the grin that tugged on her lips. “Is this some kind of message?”

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  She set out four letters that spelled uh uh.

  He looked at the words, then into her eyes, crinkled with laughter. “Nice try, but that’s not a word.”

  “It is when I say it firmly. Read my lips, Cowboy. Uh-uh.”

  Despite the laughter, she felt his gaze narrow on her mouth. Though he remained perfectly still, she could feel a shaft of heat slice through her veins.

  Silence stretched between them.

  Finally he leaned back, reminding her of a sleek panther eyeing its prey. “Okay, Goldilocks. I’ll give you a pass. But just this once. And only because you’re making the game a real challenge.”

  An hour later, Whit pushed away from the table. His tone was more than a little grumpy. “Since I’m cooking tonight, what’s your pleasure?”

  “Why don’t you surprise me?”

  “You surprise me, Goldilocks. You’re good.”

  “Thanks. You’re not bad yourself. A few more lessons, and you might even manage to be a challenge.”

  A challenge? While she took her time putting away the board and letters, Whit studied her backside as she reached into the cupboard.

  He didn’t even mind losing. He’d just spent the most enjoyable hour sparring with a woman who continued to intrigue him.

  Who the hell are you, Cara Walton? And what delicious mystery are you hiding?

  Chapter Four

  Cara pulled a wooden rocker in front of the fireplace and lifted her feet to the raised hearth, basking in the warmth of the fire. It had been fun beating Whit MacKenzie at his own game. He’d been so smug. So sure that she would be an easy mark.

  Of course, she’d had to work really hard to keep her mind on the game. Having an opponent who was rugged, gorgeous, and smart was a real distraction. She’d never met a man who could come up with so many suggestive words. She actually liked the fact that he’d been such a surprise. Not at all what she’d thought he would be.

  Even though his presence here was forcing her to change her plans, she had to admit she felt a lot safer having him around. He might not believe her story, but in a duel with Suit-and-Tie, she’d put her money on Whit MacKenzie.

  Anybody who could spend hours in the snow chopping wood, listen to an unbelievable story about a mysterious villain with evil eyes, and then calmly start a board game was either as cool a cowboy as they came or an empty-headed fool. And though she’d like to believe she was dealing with someone she could outthink, she knew better. She’d already detected a sharp mind underneath that spill of shaggy dark hair.

  Which is why, while he’d been outside chopping firewood earlier, she’d made a rash decision.

  What did Gram love to say? Truth was stranger than fiction.

  Even though she’d known her story would be tough to swallow, she’d decided to forget about the lie she’d spent the night concocting and had instead told him the truth. Or at least as much of it as she could. In truth, she was already beginning to doubt what she’d seen and heard. She’d been in such a state of anxiety when she’d fled Ghost Mountain that she was sure every stranger she encountered was out to harm her. Maybe, with her life in such turmoil, the whole thing had been blown completely out of proportion. But she’d really tried to tell this cowboy as much as she could.

  So much for honesty. Now he thought she was some crazy, half-baked lunatic who deserved to be locked up for her own good.

  And there was no one to blame but herself.

  She’d stumbled into a hornet’s nest, and wi
th every turn she was bound to get stung again and again. But hey, she’d been stung before. Too many times to count. Gram used to say adversity made you stronger. Cara wasn’t so sure of that. With each stumble, she was finding it harder and harder to get up.

  Still, she had to try if she were to ever reach her dream.

  Maybe it was time to put childhood dreams aside and get real. Look where all her dreaming had taken her.

  Whit MacKenzie had asked her what her Plan B was. She needed to have one, and she needed it soon.

  It was her last coherent thought before the warmth of the fire defeated her, and she let her head fall back as she drifted off to sleep.

  Whit rummaged through the cupboards. There were cans of ham, tuna, and corned beef, as well as boxes of rice, noodles, and freeze-dried potatoes. Enough staples to feed an army of starving wranglers.

  His fingers encountered paper, and he retrieved an envelope. On the front of it was written the words: I hope this covers the food and shelter I took without permission. A signature, Cara Walton, was scrawled as an afterthought. Inside were neatly folded bills that totaled fifty dollars.

  What a funny little thing she was. Such a contradiction. Fearless enough to break into a shack in the middle of wilderness, yet scrupulous enough to do something so unexpected in order to make it right. She had apparently used the last of her money to pay for her room and board.

  Whit glanced over to see Cara lean her head back. Within minutes her breathing was slow and easy.

  He tucked the envelope back in the cupboard where he’d found it, reluctant to let her know that he’d uncovered her secret honesty.

  Goldilocks was asleep, and it wasn’t even in a soft Baby Bear bed, but a hard, wooden chair.

  No wonder. It must have taken her hours to put together that whopper of a lie about No Name. It sounded like the plot for a great who-done-it. And he wasn’t buying a word of her fiction.

  But he had to admit that he’d enjoyed hearing her recite it. Of course, she could probably recite the month’s grain prices and he’d enjoy it just as much. It wasn’t just that low, sexy voice. Or those deep, soulful eyes that a man could happily drown in. Or that killer body with the face of an angel. But all of it together in one fabulous package was enough to make a man overlook the lies and just enjoy having her around. If, he reminded himself, a man was looking for trouble. Because this little Goldilocks was trouble with a capital T. And he was smart enough to avoid the obvious trap.