Man on a Mission. Carla Cassidy

me. Marietta’s words spun in Mark’s head. Promise me you won’t say anything to anyone. Not your brothers, not your sister…nobody. I don’t know who to trust.

      “I’m okay,” Mark replied.

      “Can you tell us what happened?”

      He sensed the intensity in Matthew’s voice, and suspicion bloomed. What was going on at the ranch? Who was involved? Marietta had said it was bad, illegal. She’d implied he should not trust not only his own family but the sheriff, as well.

      “Mark?” Matthew pressed.

      Mark raked a hand through his hair, unsure how to reply.

      “Stop it, Matthew,” Johnna said. “You’re obviously upsetting him. We’ll have time to talk when he’s feeling stronger.”

      “I feel fine,” Mark said, his mind working to assess how best to handle the entire situation. He needed to buy some time, needed to think about what had happened, the things Marietta had implied.

      Brain damage. The two words flirted around the edge of his subconscious. Perhaps he could buy himself a little bit of time, pretend his brain wasn’t working quite right, until he could figure out exactly what was going on.

      Trust nobody. Not his family, not law enforcement. Marietta’s words haunted him, and he knew he was on his own to find out what was going on at the ranch and who had killed her and why.

      Chapter 1

      “There must be some mistake.” The tall, dark-haired man looked at April Cartwright as if she were a dead fly that had accidentally fallen on his shirt. “There are no available jobs here.”

      “But that’s impossible,” April protested. She cast a quick glance at her car where her eleven-year-old son, Brian, was waiting, then looked back at the man before her. “I finalized the arrangement with Adam Delaney last week. He knew I was arriving today. I’m to be the new social director.”

      Could he hear her heart pounding? Could he sense her desperation? Sweat trickled down the small of her back, and she fought the impulse to fidget.

      Who was this man with his cold eyes and arrogant features? “Please, if you could just speak with Adam Delaney. He knows all about this.”

      “Unless you find a particularly good medium, talking to him might prove difficult. I’m Matthew Delaney. Adam was my father. He died of a heart attack four days ago. We buried him yesterday.”

      Shock rippled through April. To her shame, she realized her grief was not so much for the man who had died, a man she’d hardly known, but rather for the hope he’d represented—the hope of a new start.

      “Hi.” A second man joined Matthew in the doorway. It was easy to tell the two men were related. Both appeared to have been forged in darkness: ebony hair, shadowed gray-blue eyes and thick dark brows that instantly emitted an aura of disapproval. They both towered over her five feet two inches, and this second man was shirtless, exposing a tanned, impossibly broad, muscled chest.

      “Go on, Mark,” Matthew said. “I’ll handle this.”

      Mark smiled, and any air of darkness vanished. It was the open smile of a guileless man. “I’m Mark Delaney,” he said, and held out his hand.

      “I’m April. April Cartwright.” She allowed him to shake her hand, startled at the unexpected firmness of his grasp. His hand was warm, his palm slightly callused.

      “April. That’s a pretty name. Like spring.” He looked eminently pleased with himself for making the connection between her name and the season, and at that moment April suspected the tall, devastatingly handsome cowboy in front of her was mentally challenged.

      “Go home, Ms. Cartwright. There’s nothing for you here,” Matthew Delaney said curtly.

      “But you don’t understand.” April bit her bottom lip, not quite able to bring herself to beg. What was she going to tell Brian? She’d made so many promises to her son. “We have no home to go to,” she finally said.

      “You can stay here,” Mark said, then turned to Matthew. “She could stay in one of the back cottages. Let her stay, Matthew.” He looked back at April and smiled shyly. “I like her.”

      Matthew stared at Mark, then looked back at April. He raked a hand through his dark hair and frowned. “You can stay for the night. I can’t promise anything beyond that.”

      It wasn’t what April needed, and it certainly wasn’t what she’d expected, but if she couldn’t have the whole loaf, she’d take whatever crumbs were offered. “Thank you,” she replied.

      At least she and Brian could get a good night’s sleep before leaving to go to— To go where? There was nothing to return to. At the moment the sum of her future consisted of a single night in a cottage.

      “If you’ll give me just a moment, I’ll show you where you can spend the night,” Matthew said. It was obvious by his closed expression he was not particularly happy with Mark’s interference.

      “I can show her,” Mark replied.

      Matthew looked at him dubiously. “You sure?”

      Mark nodded. “I can do it.”

      Matthew hesitated another moment, then looked at April. “Mark will show you where you can stay. One night, that’s the best I can offer you. We’re not even sure there will be a Delaney Dude Ranch tomorrow.”

      “Thank you,” April replied.

      “Don’t thank me,” Matthew said. “You can thank Mark.” Without another word he turned and left the doorway.

      Mark stepped out onto the porch, bringing with him the scent of a freshly showered male.

      “Maybe we should just go,” April said. It was obvious Matthew Delaney wasn’t pleased with even giving the reprieve of a night. “Matthew didn’t seem too happy.”

      “Matthew is my brother, and he’s never happy,” Mark replied. “It’s all right. Come on, I’ll show you.” When she hesitated, again he smiled that wondrously warm smile. “Come on,” he repeated.

      April followed him from the porch and gestured for her son to join them. Brian bounded from the car, all skinny arms and legs. His face was lit with eagerness.

      “Brian, this is Mark. Mark, this is my son, Brian.”

      “How do you do, sir?” Brian said.

      Mark grinned widely, as if Brian had told a joke. “My name isn’t sir, it’s Mark.”

      Brian looked at April, a question in his gaze. April shook her head, indicating to him that they’d talk later.

      Mark led them around the huge, rambling ranch house. To the left of the house were the guest quarters, attractive little cottages, which at the moment were empty.

      When April had spoken with Adam Delaney a week before, she’d been told that the ranch had two dark months a year, months when they didn’t take guests, one month in the spring and one month in the fall. The down time was used for major repairs and cleaning. This was the last two weeks of the spring down time.

      In two weeks time, the dude ranch would be jumping with guests, families and newlyweds, young couples and old, all here to enjoy the novelty of the Old West that the resort offered, unless, as Matthew Delaney had indicated, Adam’s death was also the demise of the highly reputed dude ranch.

      April was intensely conscious of the man next to her. He walked with a loose-hipped gait just shy of a swagger. He was all man yet, in his eyes, in his smile, he appeared rather simple.

      As they walked, the midday sun beat down with relentless heat, and thick dust rode a breeze that seemed to spew straight from a blast furnace.

      She struggled for small talk, but was too tired, too hot and too disheartened.