The Danger Within Read online

  Michael sighed, then added an honestly reverent, “Amen.”

  Layla hesitated at the door of the busy restaurant. The red, barnlike building had been an empty, rundown relic of the nineteenth century the last time she’d visited Colorado Springs. Whoever had renovated it had done a monumental job of restoration. Curiosity urged her to open the door. Once she did, tantalizing aromas drew her inside without a second thought. She might not choose to eat meat but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate well-prepared cuisine.

  She slipped off her scarf, propped one hip on the nearest stool and leaned an elbow on the small counter just inside the entrance. A woman with hair the color of a shiny fire truck hurried over.

  “Afternoon. Something to drink?” Fiona asked.

  “No, thanks. I’m just waiting for a table. I can eat out here if you’re too full.”

  “Nonsense. We’ll find you a place in a jiffy. What brings you to Colorado Springs?”

  “Just passing through,” Layla said pleasantly. “I used to live around here, years ago.”

  “Really?” There was no condemnation in the titian-haired woman’s expression when she said, “Maybe I knew you. I used to have lots of friends from the hippie commune on the way to Cripple Creek.”

  “Then you may have heard of my family. I’m Layla Rainbow Dixon. My mother is Carol and my dad’s Gilbert.”

  “Dixon? Not Carol ‘Moonsong’ and Gilbert ‘River’ Dixon!”

  “That’s them.”

  “Well, well, what a small world. What’re they up to these days? Still selling organic vegetables?”

  “Actually, they run an herb business on the Internet. Dad may be sold on the simple life but it hasn’t stopped him from taking advantage of modern conveniences.”

  “You don’t say. How about the little ones? Didn’t you have a brother and sister?”

  “Sure did. My brother Hendrix is a stockbroker. My sister designs clothes.” Layla lifted a side panel of her flowing skirt and held it out in a soft drape. “Petal’s specialty is wedding couture but she designed this to look like a rainbow, just for me. I love it, don’t you?”

  “It’s beautiful with your blond hair and blue eyes.” Fiona patted her bright coif. “Afraid it would clash with my natural coloring, though.”

  Trying to keep from looking incredulous, Layla smiled. “It sure might.” She scanned the busy room. “So, do you work here or is this your place?”

  “It’s all mine. Mine and the bank’s,” Fiona quipped. “What do you do, travel around and sell your sister’s designs?”

  “No, no.” Layla’s soft curls danced as she shook her head. “I may not look like it, but I have a degree in veterinary medicine.” Seeing the older woman’s jaw drop she frowned. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  “No, no. Where do you practice?”

  “Here and there. I’m not tied down to an office, if that’s what you mean. I like the freedom of going where I want, when I want.”

  Fiona glanced over her shoulder. “Tell you what. It could be half an hour or more before a table opens up. Would you mind if I sat you with another customer?”

  Layla shrugged. “I guess not. I am pretty hungry.”

  “Terrific.” She whirled and started away at a fast pace. “Follow me. I think I have the perfect place for you.”

  Michael was deep in thought and concentrating on his bowl of chili and corn bread when Fiona approached. He looked up expecting her to offer a coffee refill. Instead, he saw her pointing to the opposite side of his small table. Beside her stood a blonde who looked like a cross between a country music wannabe and a gypsy. Mostly gypsy, he decided after a more careful perusal that included the multiple earrings peeking through her loose curls. She could have been a flower child of the sixties, except she was far too young.

  Fiona was beaming. “Michael, honey, we’re out of room. Do you mind sharing?”

  Before he could answer she prattled on. “I think the Lord has already answered our prayers. I’d like you to meet Layla Dixon. That’s Doctor Dixon. She’s a vet. Isn’t that wonderful? She was just passing through and look where she decided to stop for lunch.”

  Michael pushed back his chair and stood politely, napkin in hand. The young woman looked amiable enough but he was far from pleased by Fiona’s well-intentioned interference.

  “Michael Vance. Pleased to meet you.” He briefly shook the hand Layla offered and was startled at how cold—and how soft—her fingers were. “You’re freezing,” he said. “Here. Sit down and grab a cup of hot coffee.”

  “I don’t drink coffee,” she said pleasantly. “I would like a cup of tea, though.”

  “Fine.” He looked to Fiona. “And bring her some of this chili. It’s hot enough to melt an iceberg.”

  “No, really, I…” Layla scowled.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be pushy. Everything here is good. Have whatever you like.”

  “Thanks, I will.” Smiling, Layla swept her skirt gracefully aside and slid into the chair opposite him before unzipping her vest. “Please, continue eating. I didn’t mean to interrupt your meal.” She looked up at Fiona. “I’ll have herb tea and a Chef’s salad with only eggs and cheese. I don’t eat meat. Ranch dressing, please.”

  Michael’s eyebrows rose at Layla’s choices as Fiona went to place the order. “Rabbit food?”

  “It’s good for rabbits, isn’t it?”

  “They tend to be pretty puny.”

  “Only because that’s the way the Lord intended them to be. I’d hate to see a bunny the size of a horse.” One eyebrow arched. “Come to think of it, horses are vegetarians, too.”

  “I can see you’re an expert,” Michael quipped. “Did they teach you that in veterinary college?”

  “Nope. I already knew. I’m not a city girl. I was raised not far from here.”

  “Really? Let me guess, around Manitou Springs?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. How did you know?”

  Michael saw her glance at her bangle bracelets, then start to finger the beads in one of the necklaces draped in silvery loops around her neck. She knew very well how he’d come to that conclusion and was obviously waiting for him to make some derogatory comment about life in a commune.

  Instead, he nodded toward the chair where he’d placed his hat. “The same way you know I’m a rancher. We both dress the part.”

  “I do have my conventional side.”

  “You must, to have graduated as a veterinarian. Where did you go to school?”

  “Up by Berkeley. The UC Davis campus.” Layla began to grin. “That way I didn’t have to buy a new wardrobe.”

  “Very practical.” Michael paused as her tea and salad were delivered. “What brings you back to Colorado?”

  Holding the cup in both hands to warm her fingers, she took a cautious sip. “Umm. I don’t know, exactly. I travel a lot. Here and there.”

  “That’s it?” Michael was incredulous. “You just drift?”

  “I like to see new sights. It suits my nature.”

  He swallowed his last spoonful of lunch and settled back in his chair. “Amazing. I can’t imagine ever wanting to do that. This place is home.”

  Layla smiled indulgently. “Any place can be home if your heart is right and you’re in tune with the Lord.”

  “Sounds like you’ve kept the earthy philosophy you grew up with and substituted God for Mother Nature.”

  “I didn’t need to substitute anything. It all belongs to God in the first place.”

  “Good point.”

  She nodded slowly. “I seem to remember a verse about Him owning the cattle on a thousand hills.”

  “I’ve heard it. I just wish He was watching the livestock at my place a little closer.”

  “Why?”

  Michael shook his head soberly. “Never mind. It’s nothing. I’ll get it all sorted out soon.”

  “Maybe I can help. I’d be glad to give you a professional opinion if you want.”

  I
n spite of her age and nonconformist image he was tempted to take her up on the offer. However, once he confided in her there’d be no going back. Although she seemed friendly and concerned, it was foolish to expect loyalty—or silence—from someone he hardly knew.

  “Thanks. I can handle it myself.”

  “Good for you,” she said with a quirky smile. Her gaze settled on the table next to his empty chili bowl. “Are you going to eat those crackers?”

  “No. Help yourself. I would have offered if they’d been whole wheat.”

  “I have been known to consume refined flour on occasion. I make up for it by eating right the rest of the time. You know. Nuts, berries, twigs, whatever.”

  “Glad to hear it.” He crumpled his napkin and placed it beside his empty bowl. “Well, it’s been nice meeting you. If you’ll excuse me…”

  “Thanks for sharing your table—and your crackers.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Have a nice life—wherever you decide to go.”

  “Thanks. I will.”

  Michael picked up his hat and squared it on his head. He was turning away when the phone in his pocket jingled. He flipped it open and answered. “Hello?”

  “We got a problem, boss.”

  Listening to Norberto explain what he meant by that, Michael scowled. “Have you done all you can?”

  “Si, boss.”

  “What about Hector? Where’s he?”

  “Gone. He didn’t say where.”

  “Terrific. Okay. I’m on my way.”

  “Trouble?” Layla asked as Michael ended the telephone conversation.

  “Yeah.” He studied her for a long moment. “What do you know about cows? Calving, to be more precise.”

  “I paid attention in class, if that’s what you’re asking. Why?”

  “We’ve got a special heifer in labor. Norberto, my best hand, says nobody can get close enough to check her. He thinks the calf is breech.”

  Suddenly all business, Layla put down her fork and stood to face him. “How long has she been in labor? Is she out on the range or inside? Has he checked for the calf’s tail? Is the heifer down yet? Have her hips gone out?”

  Michael held up his hand. “Whoa. We’ve got her in the barn but the rest I don’t know. Normally, we’d just let her go ahead and try until she got too tired and sore to fight us, then we’d step in and help. But this heifer is a 4-H project I bought at the fair last year. She belonged to one of the little girls from church. I promised I’d take extra good care of her.”

  “Then we’d better get a move on. How far is your ranch?” As she spoke, she was scooping up the cellophane-wrapped crackers and stuffing them into her pockets.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “Of course I do! It’s what I went to school for. Besides, I have a way with animals.”

  “It might help to have a woman there,” Michael reasoned. “I imagine the heifer remembers her first owner. Okay. You’re hired. But just for today. Just till we get the calf on the ground.”

  He threw enough money on the table to pay for both their lunches and followed Layla. She was already almost to the door and practically running. If her skill matched her enthusiasm, maybe he hadn’t made such an arbitrary decision after all. And, maybe Fiona was right. Maybe the offbeat vet had been brought to Colorado Springs at that particular time because the Lord knew she’d be needed. Stranger things had happened in Michael’s life, especially lately.

  He grabbed his jacket and shrugged into it as he shouldered out the door after Layla.

  Chapter Two

  “My truck’s parked a little way down the block,” Layla said. “What’re you driving? I’ll follow you.”

  “This black dually. See the Double V logo on the door?” He pointed. “What color’s your truck?”

  Layla’s smile was crooked, her blue eyes twinkling. “Kind of purple,” she said, “with artistic splotches of pink and green. Picture a camo paint job in pastels.”

  “I can hardly wait.”

  She gave him a cynical look. “Listen, mister. I’m not griping about your boring black truck so I suggest you keep your opinions of my color choices to yourself.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He touched the brim of his hat respectfully and nodded.

  Layla was pleased to see the corners of his mouth twitch as if he were suppressing a smile. The man might dress like an ad for an upscale farm store and wear a black hat, but if he was this worried about a little girl’s pet cow he definitely had the heart of someone who deserved the white hat of a Western hero. That was good enough for her.

  Pulling on his gloves Michael warned, “Watch your speed. These roads can be treacherous, especially in bad weather. Do you have four-wheel drive?”

  “No, but my truck does.” She chuckled softly, waiting for him to catch on and laugh. He ignored the joke.

  “Good. Use it when we turn off highway 24 onto 67. That road can be pretty tricky if you aren’t familiar with it.”

  “I’ve driven up there before. I’ll be fine.”

  “Okay. In case we get separated, my spread is the Double V. There’s a sign at the main entrance.”

  “Got it.” Layla started away, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t worry. You won’t be able to lose me if you try.”

  Lose her? Michael was already having enough second thoughts that that didn’t sound like a bad idea.

  His conscience immediately reared and kicked like a wild mustang on a short halter rope. It went against his nature to make a promise he didn’t intend to keep. Besides, the kooky woman probably could help. Once the calf was delivered, however, he was going to send this unconventional lady packing. He had enough problems without adding someone like her into the mix.

  Michael circled his truck, climbed behind the wheel and started the engine. Clouds of exhaust formed in the crisp mountain air, partially obliterating his view in his outside mirror. The psychedelic truck was pulling up beside him before he saw it clearly. He sure hoped no one noticed who or what he was keeping company with! One look at Layla’s rig and his cousins would tease him unmercifully, especially Travis and Peter. Of course, Fiona had seen them leave together so the whole town would be privy to that interesting information before long.

  Grumbling under his breath, Michael eased out into traffic. A big gray dog rode beside Layla. That was not good. His German shepherd, King, was very territorial. It had taken him weeks to get King to accept Molly, the Australian shepherd he’d bought for herding.

  He pondered his options. Since Layla was traveling with the dog he had a ready-made excuse to thank her politely for her time, pay her off as soon as the crisis was over and bid her a permanent goodbye.

  Leading the way up Fourth Street, he noted the Colorado Springs Impressionist Museum on his right. How incongruous the minimalist structure looked in comparison to seasoned buildings like the Stagecoach Café.

  As he passed, Michael saw Dahlia Sainsbury, the museum director, stepping from her silver BMW. That woman looked every bit as out of place as her museum did. It wasn’t just her British accent or fancy designer clothes that put him off, either. There was something about her haughty attitude and her dark, incomprehensible gaze that gave him chills every time he encountered her.

  He blinked, chanced another quick glance in his rearview mirror. A truck similar to his was pulling into the museum lot and coming to a stop beside Dahlia’s car. The driver looked familiar. Was that where Hector had disappeared to?

  Naw. Michael shook his head as he dismissed the silly notion. The last place he’d expect his new ranch foreman to visit was an art museum.

  Sunlight reflecting off the thin layer of snow blanketing the countryside made Layla squint till her head started to ache. She reached over to pet the blue heeler. “Good boy, Smokey. We’re almost there.”

  The mottled gray dog panted and licked her hand.

  “I love you, too,” Layla said. “We’re going to like it out in the country. Lots of room for you to run and play.”
She smiled. “Me, too. I’m getting tired of being cooped up in this truck day after day. I could use a break.”

  Ahead of her, Michael slowed while passing the main ranch house. Two dogs, a giant German shepherd and a smaller Australian shepherd ran out to greet his truck. The brown-and-black shepherd loped alongside while the pretty little gray-and-white Aussie reverted to its inherent tendencies and tried to herd their two-vehicle convoy as if they were stray sheep.

  Layla was relieved when they finally stopped in front of a large barn. She shut Smokey in her truck and called to Michael, “I like your welcoming committee.”

  “Thanks.” He eyed her truck. “I’m glad you didn’t let your dog out. King doesn’t like strangers.”

  “Human or animal strangers?” she asked.

  “Both.” He grasped the shepherd’s collar. “Come here and I’ll introduce you.”

  “Let him go,” Layla said. “He won’t hurt me.”

  “You don’t know that. He still hasn’t taken to my new foreman and Hector’s worked for me for months.”

  She was approaching calmly, confidently, and speaking in a quiet voice in spite of the dog’s barking. “Hello, King. What a good boy you are.”

  King lunged against Michael’s restraint. Layla paused. “Listen. Can’t you hear the change in his bark? It was like a whiny yap when he started. Now it’s deeper. Let him go before he gets any more defensive.”

  She held out her hand to the Aussie that was already sniffing her and wiggling at her feet like a happy puppy begging for affection. “And what’s your name?”

  “That’s Molly,” Michael said. “Okay. Look out. I’m turning King loose.”

  Layla braced herself and began to sing softly. The shepherd was on her in three bounds. She didn’t flinch, even when shy Molly ducked behind her to escape King’s wild rush. She was ready to raise her knee and knock him off balance if he decided to leap at her but that wasn’t necessary. He slid to a stop, cocked his head to listen to her crooning, then sat at her feet as if he’d been trained to do so.