The Man From High Mountain. Kay David

the secretary over at the title company—had to stay home with her grandbaby today, chicken pox, I think, and she didn’t get to ’em before she left on Friday. Can you try me again tomorrow?”

      Taylor’s impatience flared, but for the second time that morning, she reminded herself of where she was. “All right, but I’m going out to the ranch early tomorrow. I’ll be gone for a day or so.”

      “Even better, then. We’ll have it all fixed up by the time you get back.” His smile faded slowly. “But why on earth are you going out there, honey? Won’t bring you anything good, that’s for sure.”

      “I—I just need to, Mr. Henderson. It’s one of the reasons I returned. To...to say goodbye, I guess.”

      “Well, I suppose that makes sense.” He nodded his head slowly, thoughtfully. “I’ll have those papers ready just fine, I promise. Don’t you worry. We’ll take care of everything.”

      He’d used the exact same words when she’d been in before, but she wasn’t going to get upset. It didn’t really matter. She’d waited this long, a few more days wouldn’t kill her. She nodded, then turned to leave. But with her hand on the doorknob, she stopped and looked at the man behind her. “Jim...” She started, then faltered.

      He looked up, a curious expression on his face. “Yeah?”

      “I know this may sound dumb but...”

      “What?”

      “I was down at Pearson’s a few minutes ago, and Earl Pearson told me he thought the ranch was haunted. Have you...have you heard anything like that?”

      From across the room, the real estate agent stared at her. He took so long to answer, she started getting nervous, then he spoke. “Haunted? Why would he say something like that?”

      “Actually, I was hoping you might explain it. He said everyone around here knew about it. Something about strange lights, noises...”

      “Well, Earl’s a weird character. Who knows where he got that idea? I wouldn’t let it bother me if I were you.”

      “He said no one around here would ever buy Diablo.”

      “Well, he is right about that, even if he’s got the reasons wrong. No one around here could afford it. We’ll find our buyer in Dallas or Houston. Maybe even out of state. Those people from South Carolina like huntin’ Texas deer, and they got plenty of money right now.” He smiled amicably. “Don’t worry about it, honey. Someone will want Diablo, haunted or not.”

      

      SITTING ON THE FRONT porch and watching the sun go down, Cole let his hand drop over the side of the rocker where it landed on the head of Lester, his black-and-tan hunting dog. Easing his fingers over the animal’s slick, silky fur, Cole smoothed back his ears. The dog moaned with pleasure, then flopped closer to his master’s chair and exposed his belly, hoping for a better scratch. Cole looked down at him and spoke. “Forget it, partner. I’m too tired to bend over. This is all you’re getting tonight.”

      The dog yawned, as if to show his indifference, then he rolled over and started to snore.

      “And tomorrow night’s gonna be even worse.” Cole spoke out loud, but he was only repeating the words he’d been thinking all day long. He didn’t know what had gotten into him at Pearson’s. Without any warning, his mouth had voiced promises he wasn’t sure his body could keep. He reached for the beer he’d brought outside with him and took a long, thirsty gulp.

      He was crazy, pure and simple crazy. If Taylor Matthews wanted to get herself all upset—or worse—what business did he have trying to stop her?

      None. But if she went on her own and got hurt or worse, he’d have to go get her anyway. Accompanying her just made things easier. Lester groaned in his sleep, and Cole stared down at the dog, his shoulders suddenly slumping. Who was he trying to fool? The real reason he was taking her to Diablo was a much simpler one. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to her, and that possibility definitely existed. He’d done the only thing he could. But he’d pay for it...oh boy, would he pay for it.

      Almost on cue, his hip began aching. This time of year it always hurt more. The colder evenings seemed to irritate it, and when it rained, the pain got even worse. They were probably going to have both over the next few days. Rain and cold. A front was coming down from the north. They’d catch the brunt of it, he was sure. He knew by now even the weather wouldn’t make a difference to her, though.

      He turned his head toward the west. Toward Diablo. Taylor was a determined woman...he only hoped he could keep her a safe one.

      

      WHEN TAYLOR MADE her way to the Blazer early the next morning, it was still dark. And in High Mountain, dark really meant dark. Not a single light shone anywhere on Main, and beyond that, into the desert and the hovering mountains, the lack of illumination was even more intense. She glanced uneasily around the parking lot, remembering the slashed tires and silent phone calls. Nothing else unusual had happened so she assumed the sheriff had taken care of the teenagers. She put her nervousness behind her and got into the Blazer.

      Forty-five minutes later, she spotted the cutoff to Cole’s place, the drive outlined with luminescent markers. She swung the truck off the highway and angled it between the pale green signs to rattle over the cattle guard. A few minutes later, she pulled up in his yard. A weak light came through his window. A dog rose and began to bark as she shut off the engine.

      Cole appeared at the doorway, his silhouette tall and forbidding in the darkness. “Hush now. You hush, dog.” He wore jeans and a down vest, and in the diamond-hard silence, his voice was low as he spoke to the animal, little puffs of breath coming with it to catch the light. She stared at him for a moment. He wasn’t the kind of man she’d ever been interested in—he was too rough, too masculine—but something about him intrigued her. As she watched him bend down and touch the dog’s head, she wondered about her assessment. Maybe, in fact, what was intriguing to her were his contradictions. He was masculine, was rough, but underneath that exterior, she sensed a softer side.

      He walked to the edge of the porch, and she got out of her truck, leaving her questions behind.

      “I’m not quite ready,” he called out. “Come on in and have a cup of coffee.”

      She nodded, then grabbed the bag she’d packed with a change of clothing from off the front seat. Crunching across the graveled drive, she smiled at the dog who came down the steps to greet her. “And what’s your name?” she asked, holding out her hand.

      “That’s Lester. He’ll be going with us, if you don’t mind.”

      “I love dogs. I’ll enjoy his company.” She reached the bottom step and looked up at Cole, the hound, sensing a friend, wriggling beside her with ecstasy. “I can’t have one of my own—Richard’s allergic.”

      Cole nodded, then turned and went back inside without further comment. Taylor followed.

      “Coffee’s in there,” he said, tilting his head to what she assumed was the kitchen. “I’ll just get the rest of my gear and we’ll be on our way.”

      She nodded, then looked around, curious to see how Cole lived. The first time she’d been in his home she’d been too upset to notice her surroundings. Now she saw the cabin for what it was. Peaceful. Calm. Secluded. He’d filled the tiny place with what Taylor thought of as “man” furniture. A deep couch, a plaid recliner, tables with sturdy legs and lamps that were made to read by. She went into the kitchen and saw more of the same, Lester tagging at her heels.

      A small pine table rested beside two broad windows, and on the stove, a blue enameled pitcher gave off aromatic steam. It was coffee—boiled on the range and probably stronger than nails. She took one of the ceramic mugs hanging on hooks under the nearest oak cabinet and poured herself a cup. Instantly memories flooded her. Her dad had made coffee this way—they’d been too poor to have a fancy coffeemaker and even if they had been