The Winter Soldier. Diana Palmer

her father teach her?”

      “Not him,” Ebenezer chuckled. “He didn’t think women were smart enough to handle such things. He ran the ranch until the day he died. She was kept right out of it until then. Walt proposed to her at her father’s funeral and married her shortly after.”

      “She loved her father, I gather.”

      “Of course she did, and he loved her. But he was a nineteenth-century man. He would have fit right in after the Civil War.” He shook his head. “That ranch isn’t solvent. Lisa’s going to lose it eventually. She needs to go ahead and put it on the market and get the best price she can.”

      “I might see if she’ll sell to me. I could rent her the house and have my own men work the ranch.”

      Ebenezer grinned. “Now, that’s constructive thinking.” He leaned forward, emptying his coffee cup. “As for those so-called beehives, I think we’d better send somebody over to have a quiet look after dark and see if there are really any bees in them.”

      “Good idea. Then we can start making plans if it looks like Lopez is sending drugs through here.” Cy got to his feet. “Thanks for the coffee.”

      “Anytime. Watch your back.”

      Cy smiled. “I always do. See you.”

      * * *

      When Cy got home, Harley was out in the front yard having an animated conversation with a foreigner in an expensive pickup truck. He turned as Cy drove up in front of the house. He cut off the engine and eyed the newcomer’s vehicle with knowing eyes. Here was an opportunity not only to meet one of Lopez’s executives, but to throw them off the track about him as well.

      “Hey, boss, this is Rico Montoya,” he said with a grin. “He’s our new neighbor with the honey export business. He just dropped by to say hello.”

      Sure he did, Cy thought, but he didn’t reply. He got out of the utility vehicle slowly and deliberately favored his left arm as he moved to the pickup truck.

      “Glad to meet you, Mr. Montoya,” Cy said with a carefully neutral expression. “My men noticed the warehouse going up.” He tried to look worried. “I don’t really like bees close to my purebred Santa Gerts,” he said without preamble. “I hope you’re going to make sure there aren’t any problems.”

      The man’s eyebrows rose, surprised at Cy’s lack of antagonism. Surely the rancher knew who he was and whose orders he was following. Or did he? His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. Parks was holding his crippled left arm in his right and he had the look of someone who’d seen one tragedy too many. Lopez had been worried about interference from this rancher, but Montoya was certain there wouldn’t be any. This wasn’t an adversary to worry about. This was a defeated man, despite his past. He relaxed and smiled at Cy. “You’re very straightforward,” he said with only a trace of an accent. He was wearing a silk suit and his thick hair was not only cut, but styled. There was a slight bulge under his jacket. “You have nothing to fear from our enterprise,” he assured Cy. “We will be meticulous about our operation. Your cattle will be in no danger. I give you my word.”

      Cy stared quietly at the other man and nodded, as if convinced. Near him, Harley was gaping at the lack of antagonism that Mr. Parks showed to most visitors. It wasn’t like him to favor that burned arm, either.

      “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Parks,” Montoya said with a grin. “I hope that we will be good neighbors.”

      “Thank you for taking the time to stop by and introduce yourself,” Cy said with a noticeable lack of animation. He got a firmer grip on his injured arm. “We don’t get many visitors.”

      “It was my pleasure. Good day, Señor.” Montoya smiled again, this time with faint contempt, and pulled his truck out of the driveway. Cy watched him go, arrow-straight, his mouth making a firm line in his lean, taut face.

      “Mr. Parks, you are the oddest man I know,” Harley said, shaking his head. “You weren’t yourself at all.”

      Cy turned to him. “Who do you think that was?”

      “Why, our new neighbor,” Harley said carelessly. “Nice of him to come over and say howdy,” he added with a scowl. “Your arm bothering you?”

      “Not in the least,” Cy said, both hands on his lean hips as he studied the younger man. “What did you notice about our new hardworking neighbor?”

      The question surprised Harley. “Well, he was Latin. He had a bit of an accent. And he was real pleasant…”

      “He was wearing a silk suit and a Rolex watch,” he said flatly. “The truck he was driving is next year’s model, custom. He was wearing boots that cost more than my new yearling bull. And you think he makes that kind of money selling honey, do you?”

      Harley’s eyes widened. Once in a while, his boss threw him a curve. This was a damned big curve. He frowned. How had Cy noticed so much about a man he only saw for a minute or two when Harley, a trained commando he reminded himself, hadn’t?

      “That was one of Lopez’s executives,” Cy told the younger man flatly, nodding at his wide-eyed realization. “I want you to go work cattle over near that warehouse and take a pair of binoculars with you,” Cy told his foreman. “Don’t be obvious, but see who comes and goes for a few days.”

      “Sir?”

      “You told Eb you wanted to help keep an eye on Lopez’s operation. Here’s your chance.”

      “Oh, I see, Mr. Scott told you to send me out there.” Harley grinned from ear to ear. “Sure. I’ll be glad to do it!”

      “Just make sure you aren’t caught spying,” Cy told him flatly. “These people are killers. They won’t hesitate if they think they’re being watched deliberately.”

      “I can handle myself,” Harley said with faint mockery.

      “Yes, I know, you’re professionally trained,” Cy drawled.

      The tone made Harley feel uncertain. But he put it down to jealousy and grinned. “I know how to watch people without getting noticed,” he assured his boss. “Does Mr. Scott want tag numbers as well as descriptions of the people?”

      “Yes, and pay attention to the trucks that come in.”

      “Okay.”

      Cy wanted to add more to those instructions, but he didn’t want Harley to know everything. “Be sure you keep your mouth shut about this,” he told Harley. “Eb won’t like it if he thinks you’re gossiping.”

      “I wouldn’t want him mad at me!” Harley chuckled. “I’ll keep quiet.”

      “See that you do.”

      Cy walked back to the house with a quick, sharp stride that reflected his anger. He’d just met a new link in Lopez’s chain, probably one of his divisional managers. It would work to his advantage that he had just convinced the drug lord’s associate that he was a crippled rancher with no interest in the bees except where his cattle were concerned.

      Lopez thought he had it made with his “honey business” as a blind, here in little Jacobsville. But Cy was going to put a stick in his spokes, and the sooner, the better.

CHAPTER THREE

      Harley drove the little red car with its new water pump back to Lisa Monroe early the next morning, with Cy following in his big utility vehicle.

      Lisa was overjoyed at the way the engine sounded as Harley pulled up at the front porch and reved it before he turned it off.

      “It hasn’t ever sounded that good before!” she enthused. “Thank you, Harley!”

      “You’re