Thunder at Dawn Page 19

  Chapter 19

  “THERE’S SOMETHING ELSE WE NEED TO TALK about.” Zach poured a skillet full of scrambled eggs onto a large blue platter and set it down on the kitchen table beside a basket of toast. “The auction.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re making another donation.” Faith smiled at him, knowing she was enjoying the morning together far too much, but unable to help herself. She couldn’t keep from gazing at him, all six foot two of shirtless, magnificent male, wearing only jeans and boots and shower-damp, mussed-up hair. He looked so good, so lean and warm and sexy, that she wanted to leap out of her chair and kiss him—to slide her hands down that sun-browned muscular chest and taste the lips that had teased and tormented her so ruthlessly last night.

  But she didn’t move. Last night was . . . last night. Now opal sunlight spilled across the enormous ranch house kitchen and the smell of fresh-brewed coffee filled the air.

  And things felt different. Zach had been downstairs already when she woke up alone in his bed just after seven o’clock. She’d taken a quick shower and borrowed a toothbrush, then found her scattered clothes from last night draped across the leather recliner in the corner of his bedroom.

  When she’d pulled them on quickly and come into the kitchen, he’d seemed preoccupied and hadn’t done more than give her a quick single kiss.

  She needed to be careful, to go slow, she reminded herself as she poured coffee for both of them and set the carafe down beside a plate of bacon. In the clear light of day she needed to become once more the sane, careful woman who lived inside her, the one who remembered how to stay in control.

  “Nope,” he said, sitting down opposite her and taking a sip of the steaming coffee. “One donation and that’s it. Any other guesses, Faith?”

  “Why don’t you just spit it out?” She allowed a tiny smile. “I’m all ears.”

  “Good. Because I wanted to ask you if you’d be my date.”

  Her heart lifted. Okay, so maybe things weren’t so different from last night. But then she remembered the last time he’d invited her to a dance in Thunder Creek and her chest tightened.

  He must have read the thoughts dashing across her mind, because he spoke again, quickly, his eyes purposeful in the morning light.

  “This time I’ll show up.”

  Her first instinct was to smile, to reach across the table, touch his hand. But she managed not to move. Go slow, she lectured herself, as the question hung in the air between them. Keep it light. It’s bad enough you got carried away last night and made love to him until neither of you could see straight. Who knows what Zach really wants? Or where this is headed? Be careful.

  “All right.” She spoke calmly. Calmly but pleasantly, she thought. No wearing of her heart on her sleeve, not this time. “I guess we have a date.”

  He didn’t look pleased with her answer. He studied her, his eyes thoughtful. “Okay. Well . . . great.”

  “I have one question,” she blurted as a thought struck her. “Are you asking me to the dance as my bodyguard . . . or as my . . . whatever we are,” she finished awkwardly.

  “I guess that’s something you’re going to have to figure out for yourself.” He stood up abruptly. “I’ve got some business calls to return and I need to get in touch with Keene and find out if my crew can get back on site today. Let me know when you’re ready to go back to the cabin. I’ll drive you over.”

  “I don’t need—” she began, but then saw the stubborn set to his mouth and decided she’d already annoyed him enough this morning.

  She stabbed a forkful of eggs and shrugged. “I’ll be ready whenever you are.”

  Zach scowled. Was this how it was always going to be between them? One minute she’d be tearing his clothes off, driving him crazy with sizzling kisses, and the next instant she’d turn cold as a glacier again? Would he have to keep winning her over, figuring her out, day after day?

  The sounds of a truck roaring into the drive interrupted his thoughts. When he went to the kitchen window, his eyes narrowed.

  “Company.”

  Faith was already hurrying up behind him, in time to see Wood Morgan clamber out of a shiny red Dodge truck. An instant later Rusty Gallagher emerged from the passenger seat, dressed in pressed jeans and a pinstriped shirt and carrying a briefcase.

  “What the hell do they want?” she muttered, knowing it wasn’t anything good.

  Zach had already reached the back door. “Stay inside. They don’t need to know you’re here,” he said in a low tone. “This might get ugly and there’s no reason for you to be involved—”

  “Give it up, McCallum,” she muttered, and walked past him out the door.

  She paused outside, halfway across the wraparound porch, as Zach walked out behind her and strode down the steps to greet his guests.

  Faith watched her presence register on Wood’s face and on Rusty’s. It was not yet eight o’clock. Most likely half the town would be buzzing within an hour that she’d spent the night with Zach McCallum.

  But at the moment she didn’t care. From the set expressions on the men’s faces, she knew what was coming. Strong-arm tactics. Well, Zach wasn’t going to have to face that all alone.

  Besides, she thought, Wood Morgan wouldn’t dare get too ugly—not if he knows there’s a witness present.

  “What are you doing here, Faith?” Wood stopped short a few feet from Zach, staring at her on the porch. “Or shouldn’t I ask?” he smirked, then sobered quickly as Zach took a step toward him. “I hope you’ve been trying to talk sense into McCallum.”

  “What you’re doing here is more to the point, Wood. What do you want?” she retorted.

  “Hiding behind women now, eh, McCallum?” Rusty’s mouth curled into a sneer. Beside him, Wood Morgan gave a short laugh.

  Faith saw that the attorney’s hands were clenched into fists, even the one holding the briefcase. He’d probably love nothing more than a chance to repay Zach for what had happened in the Tumbleweed, but she planned to make sure it didn’t come to that.

  “Wood, you can come inside and say whatever you have to say. I’ll give you five minutes.” Zach’s tone was hard as baked clay. “But your hired thug doesn’t set foot in my house.”

  “Rusty’s not a thug—he’s my lawyer,” Wood retorted. “And he has something for you.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?” Zach’s hard gaze shifted to Gallagher. Looking at him, Faith shivered. Zach’s eyes were arctic—and dangerous. She wouldn’t have wanted to be in Rusty’s boots right now. He, however, didn’t appear to be intimidated.

  He snapped open the briefcase, yanked out a sheaf of papers, and thrust them at Zach. “Petition. Signed by one hundred forty-two residents of Thunder Creek and environs. All those opposing the construction of a charity camp on the land in question.”

  Rusty’s lip curled as he stared warningly at Zach. “Lots of folks feel pretty strongly about this. It wouldn’t be a good idea to ignore it.”

  Zach glanced indifferently at the petition. “The land in question just happens to be my land. I can do whatever the hell I want with it. Your petition isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

  “So if that’s all, gentlemen, you can be on your way now,” Faith said crisply.

  “You should be wearing a skirt . . . easier for him to hide behind,” Rusty taunted.

  Wood guffawed. “Faith, honey, I don’t have a problem with you. Hell, I’ve known you since you were a pigtailed brat who wanted to do everything your brothers did. And you know I have great respect for all the Barclays, especially Ty. He’s a helluva sheriff and when the time comes for him to run for reelection, I want to support him. I surely hope I’ll be able to do that.”

  “Are you implying you won’t if I represent Zach?”

  Wood shrugged. “I’d have to reassess things. Including my opinion of all the Barclays. I want a sheriff who will actively support the citizens and best interests of Thunder Creek.”

  Fury surged through her. “Go to
hell. What I do or don’t do has nothing to do with how my brother does his job.”

  “All the Barclays stick together,” Wood countered. “If you don’t care about what happens to Thunder Creek, Ty probably doesn’t either.”

  “Leave it to you to come up with that load of crap.” Faith came down the porch steps fast. “Well, take it from me, my principles are not for sale and neither are my brother’s.”

  “What’s wrong with you, Faith? Why do you care what happens to this guy?” Rusty intervened. He moved in closer and snagged her wrist. “You hustling for him now? Are you his attorney? Or . . .”

  Gallagher flicked a glance over her damp curling hair and wrinkled sweater, scorn flashing in his eyes. “Or maybe you’re just his slut?”

  Zach hit him. The thwack of his fist connecting with bone and flesh resounded in the chilly morning air as Rusty fell backward and hit the ground.

  “Now you’ve done it, McCallum.” Wood glared at him. “That’s assault.”

  “Guess what, pal—you’re next.” Zach advanced on Wood. The other man instinctively took a step backward, then another.

  Wood Morgan had played football at Thunder Creek High back when he met Tammie, and he’d won his share of fistfights since kindergarten, but something fierce and hard in Zach’s face made him give ground.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the hell off my property. Now.”

  “Get out of here, Wood,” Faith said quickly. “And take this cur along with you.”

  “You’ve gone too far, McCallum.” Wood summoned his courage. “There’s clearly a pattern of violence and instability here. If we bring you up on charges, things won’t go your way. Think of your son—”

  Zach grabbed Wood by the shirt. A muscle twitched in his jaw, but his voice was coldly controlled. “You stay the hell away from my son.”

  “He’ll hear things. He’ll get hurt . . . you don’t want that—”

  Zach’s eyes darkened, but before he could hit the other man, Faith jumped in. “Don’t, Zach. Don’t do it. He’s not worth it.”

  For a moment there was a horrible silence, then Zach shoved Wood away. On the ground, Rusty had managed to pull himself to his knees. Blood oozed from his lip.

  Wood grimaced, compelled to try one more time. “Things don’t have to be like this, McCallum. If you sell that land to me, we can get along just fine. One hand washes the other, you know?”

  “Why are you still here?” Zach growled.

  “I just want you to read that petition. See all the names of the people who oppose you. There are some important people there. Think about it—”

  Zach picked up the petition from where it had fallen to the ground. “Here’s what I think of your petition, Morgan.”

  He ripped the papers in half and let the pieces flutter to the grass. “This meeting is over.”

  Rusty Gallagher struggled to his feet. He looked like he was about to try to launch himself at Zach, but Wood grabbed his arm.

  “Enough. Let’s get out of here. There’s no reasoning with some people.”

  “I want him arrested. He assaulted me!”

  Wood’s lip curled. “Around here, Gallagher, we don’t arrest someone for punching us out. We fight back. Besides, you had it coming,” he muttered, with a glance at Faith. He started dragging the lawyer back toward the truck.

  “But don’t think this is over, McCallum,” he called out. “We’ve got copies of the petition. People are talking. And they’re angry.”

  Zach ignored him. He looked at Faith. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  She went to him, touched his hand, the right one he’d used to hit Rusty. “Neither did you,” she said quietly.

  In the truck, Rusty glowered, staring straight ahead as Wood headed back toward town.

  “We need to increase the pressure on McCallum,” he grated. “He’s too damned stubborn for his own good. Next time, instead of just a goddamned warning, we have to make good on the threat, do a little damage at his precious construction site. Show him we mean business.”

  “I don’t want to hear about it,” Wood said quickly. He cast a glance at the other man, who was gingerly touching his bloodied lip.

  “Just remember, I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

  “No problem.”

  Wood’s stomach churned. Acid reflux, he thought. It had been keeping him up nights for weeks. Maybe that’s why his hands were so taut on the steering wheel, why his chest felt like a giant rock was wedged inside it.

  Or maybe it was just because he had a plain uneasy feeling about the way this whole McCallum thing was going.

  It didn’t help that he was beginning to dislike Gallagher almost as much as he disliked Zach McCallum. The man might be a shrewd lawyer, but he was full of bluster and he drank too much. Besides that, he’d mainly gone after Zach this morning by baiting Faith. That didn’t sit well with Wood.

  And who knew what Gallagher would do under pressure? Wood wondered, thinking of Tammie and the kids, wondering how they’d feel if Gallagher bungled things and he ended up in jail. It could happen, if Ty Barclay came back and started really probing into the bomb threat at TexCorp’s construction site. What if Gallagher had left some loose ends and got nailed—he’d babble like a magpie to save his own hide.

  And there was also the fact that someone might have overheard that night when Gallagher had first broached the subject of something “happening” at the TexCorp site, something that would not only delay construction but get McCallum’s attention. Jesus, the man had been a little too cocky, talking about it right in the office, especially since a few of the tech guys had been working late down the hall and even Tammie had been reviewing the books in the accountant’s office. If anyone had heard anything . . .

  Wood felt sweat soak his armpits as he realized all the ways this whole thing could go south.

  “Don’t forget, Rusty, under no circumstances are you or anyone who works for Morgan Enterprises to do anything illegal,” Wood said, his tone firm. “We’re working through legal channels to do what’s best for Thunder Creek.”

  “Of course.” Rusty smiled sourly, wincing as his cut lip cracked. He knew a legal cover when he heard one. Wood Morgan was smart—he wanted to be able to testify to the fact that he’d had no knowledge of any bombs or bomb threats against McCallum’s new headquarters, that he would never have approved such a thing.

  Two could play that game. “I always abide by the strictest ethics, Wood. As an attorney, I’m sworn to uphold the law and even if I wasn’t, I’d do it anyway.”

  “Just so we understand each other.” Wood made the turnoff leading into town. “And one more thing that needs to be done today. I really admire the way Rick Keene is handling things while Sheriff Barclay is away. He’s extremely fit to be our new sheriff. Make another ten-thousand-dollar donation to his election campaign. And be sure to let him know personally how much we appreciate all his hard work and that we’ll do everything we can to help him get elected.”

  Gallagher nodded. “Consider it done. I’ll take care of it as soon as I get back to the office.”

  Wood felt a little better. He’d treaded on thin ice before. You had to if you wanted to win. You had to do whatever it took, try a little harder than everyone else.

  But he wasn’t about to fall through any cracks. He hadn’t come all this way, achieved his postion as a community leader and prime mover and shaker, just to see himself go under.

  What Gallagher proceeded to do from here on out was up to him. Whatever happens, Wood thought, my conscience will be clear.

  Chapter 20

  FAITH STARED IN AWE AT THE THREE GORGEOUS cocktail dresses arrayed like shimmering jewels across Roy and Corinne’s king-size bed.

  “Corinne, they’re all beautiful. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Mind?” Roy’s wife burst out laughing as she sat down on the upholstered bench at the foot of her bed. “I can only wear one dress at a time, you know. And it had
better be this one.”

  She ran a hand along the stretchy silk fabric of a delicately sequined wine-colored cocktail dress. “I’m not really showing yet, but I’ve already gained seven pounds. I think I’d have a hard time pulling off those skintight numbers. Now you, on the other hand . . .” Corinne grinned at Faith.

  “You’ll look fabulous in either one. And I know Josy would be thrilled for you to wear one of her creations.”

  Faith knew she was right. Ty’s wife was loving, warm, and generous, and the moment she’d heard about Faith and Kevin’s engagement, she’d offered to design Faith’s wedding gown.

  That idea had died the moment Faith called off her engagement, but now the opportunity to wear one of Josy’s gowns was right in front of her. Before she and Ty had left town, Josy had brought some samples to Corinne so she could choose which one she’d wear to the dinner dance and auction.

  Which was damned lucky for me, Faith thought, since she hadn’t brought anything dressier to Thunder Creek than one knee-length black skirt and a few silk sweaters. She might have pulled it off, except she discovered this morning that the skirt had a wine stain on it that she’d forgotten all about.

  And the dance was tonight . . .

  In fact, Zach would be picking her up in just a few hours. She still had to run by the Crystal Horseshoe Dude Ranch and make sure all of the last-minute auction items were properly tagged and displayed before going home to shower and dress.

  Thankfully, Patti was taking care of picking up the programs from the printer. She’d been feeling under the weather since yesterday with a sore throat and a low-grade fever, but had insisted she’d be fine by today and would have no trouble getting the programs. So Faith figured she should have just enough time to pull herself together before Zach arrived.

  All of the committee members had agreed to arrive at the dude ranch two hours early to help set up flowers, place cards, and decorations and to deal with any on-the-spot situations. So she only had a few hours to spare.