Cowboy Under Fire. Carla Cassidy

“This is the first time you’ve spoken to me without yelling.”

      A warmth of a blush swept over her cheeks. “My number-one priority is to keep the integrity of the crime scene. I allowed your photographer access to get what photos you needed for your case file, but I’m very proprietary about the scene, especially in the very beginning when something could happen to taint the scene.”

      “I hadn’t noticed,” he replied dryly.

      She couldn’t apologize for doing her job. “If you come back tomorrow, I’ll see to it that you have a full report along with the dental records. I’m also bagging any scraps of fabric or hair we find among the bones, although so far there isn’t much of either left, and I won’t be able to tell you what of those items went with what victim.”

      “Hopefully, it won’t be long before you get to the other bodies?”

      “It takes as long as it takes,” she replied. She knew he’d been frustrated by how long it had taken her to begin to move the bones from the pit, but there had been much preliminary work that had to be done before actually moving the bones.

      There was no way she could pin down a specific time line for him now. She wasn’t in control, the bones were. “This is a process that can’t be rushed.”

      He nodded. “Cassie mentioned to me that several times she’s invited you to the big house to eat dinner, but you’ve declined.”

      “I have,” she agreed. “I’m here to work, and generally I don’t mix business with pleasure. I prefer to keep myself isolated from the locals. When I’m done with my work, I leave and never look back.”

      “I just figured I’d mention that Cassie is a terrific woman, just in case you feel inclined to have some girl talk or whatever.”

      “I’ll keep that in mind,” Patience replied, although she had no idea what “girl talk” involved and had no intention of indulging in it. She knew nothing about fashion or shoes or men...or any of the kinds of things she assumed “girl talk” would entail.

      “I’ll be back sometime in the morning for your report?”

      “That’s fine,” she replied. “I’ll make sure I have everything ready on victim one.”

      She watched as the lawman walked back toward the house, and then her gaze automatically shot to the corral where the big black horse was alone in the enclosure.

      She frowned irritably. She’d looked to see if she could catch sight of Forest. What was wrong with her? Why would she even want to look for him? He was just part of the scenery here, nothing more. She returned to the tent and got back to work.

      For the next week she focused on the job she was here to do, but found herself at odd times of the day standing in the tent entrance and gazing toward the corral.

      Sometimes the horse was there alone and other times Forest was in the corral with the horse. He often stood in one place for a long period of time and then would move, forcing the horse to back away to keep a healthy distance from the human intruder.

      Forest appeared to be a patient man, a trait he and Patience shared in common. He didn’t attempt to force himself on the huge animal, but appeared to be waiting for the horse to come to him.

      By Friday they had managed to piece together all of skeleton two, confirming that it was a young male with the same kind of wound to the back of his skull. She’d written her report, taken the necessary dental X-rays and once again had nothing concrete that would help Dillon Bowie make identification either of the victim or the person responsible for the deaths.

      She assumed he was checking missing-persons reports from years ago, but at the time these young men had been murdered, instant technology hadn’t been available. He had a difficult task ahead of him, and it was possible the killer was long gone from the area. Of course it was also possible he could be working on this ranch. From what she’d heard, all of the twelve cowboys had been young ranch hands at the time the murders would have taken place.

      It was after seven when she and Devon finally knocked off for the day. The officer who showed up each night at around this time to guard the burial scene through the night had already arrived. Even after almost a month, Patience didn’t know his name.

      He arrived each evening carrying a canvas folding chair that he set up at one end of the tent and settled in for a night of guard duty.

      She began the long walk to the cowboy motel. It would be unusually quiet tonight, as Devon had told her most of the cowboys would be headed for the big barn dance being held at Abe Breckinridge’s ranch.

      She couldn’t help but think of Forest’s invitation for her to join him at the dance, but her plans were to do what she did every night: eat a protein bar and a prepared salad that Devon had picked up for her at noon when he’d gone into town for a quick lunch. She would then settle in for a night of relaxing and reading Hollywood gossip.

      Although her stomach growled with hunger, when she reached her room she opted for a shower first and then changed into her nightshirt. She grabbed both the salad and a soda from the mini-fridge and then got comfortable on the bed to eat.

      The silence in the small room didn’t bother her; rather, she relished it. Her childhood had been a schizophrenic dichotomy between unexpected outbursts of drama and cold, unemotional lectures.

      Since the moment she’d left her parents’ home, she’d reveled in the silence of peace. She didn’t want anyone else’s dramas except her own, and those usually occurred when she allowed her anger free rein.

      It was just after nine when the silence was broken. A rousing country Western song drifted through her door along with the distinctive scent of charcoal burning.

      What the heck?

      She got up off the bed, unlocked her door and peered outside.

      Surprise winged through her. Forest was seated in one of two folding chairs just outside his room. The charcoal in the small barbecue grill in front of him glowed red-hot, and as he spied her, he turned down the volume on the CD player next to him.

      He was cleaned up, wearing jeans and a pullover short-sleeved blue shirt. His thick black hair was neatly combed and he looked as if he had just shaved. He was way too hot and sexy.

      “What are you doing out here?” she asked.

      “I figured if you wouldn’t go to the barn dance with me, then I’d bring the barn dance to you,” he replied and smiled. It was that smile that warmed her in unexpected places as she stared at him in disbelief.

      “What do you say? I’ve got the hot dogs ready for the grill, a couple of beers on ice and the appropriate music. All I’m missing is company.”

      She should tell him no. This went against all the rules she’d set for herself when she was working. Heck, it went against all the rules she’d set for herself when she wasn’t working.

      “Just let me pull on something more appropriate and I’ll be right out,” she heard herself say.

      She closed her door and quickly pulled off her nightgown, even while telling herself this was probably a big mistake.

      * * *

      Forest was shocked at her positive response. He’d expected her to say no and then slam her door shut once again. A wave of suspicion swept through him as she disappeared behind her door. Was she really going to get dressed and join him? Or had she vanished back into the room to remain there until he got tired of waiting for her and gave up on the night?

      The thin, short-sleeved bright purple nightgown he’d gotten a peek of was incongruent to what he’d imagined she’d wear to bed. He’d spent far too long during the last week wondering about her nightwear.

      He’d figured her for a no-nonsense pajama kind of woman, or if it was a nightgown, then it would be long and some muted color like gray or dark blue. He certainly hadn’t guessed a short gown that showcased shapely