The Danger Within Read online

  “Good boy.” She let him sniff her fingers. In seconds, she was scratching behind his ears and he was leaning into her touch with his eyes half-closed.

  Michael stared. “I don’t believe it. If he was a cat he’d be purring.”

  “I told you I had a way with animals,” Layla said. “Now, let’s go see about that heifer, shall we?”

  Following Michael into the barn she couldn’t help admiring him. For his caring heart, she quickly told herself. Not that he was hard to look at. There was a rugged handsomeness about the rancher that appealed to her in a way that a lush spring meadow or a well-conditioned animal did. He moved like an athlete, graceful because he had control of his muscles, not because there was anything effete about him. On the contrary, he was masculine to the core. Yet he also radiated an unmistakable tenderness. Remembering his casual references to God and his apparent knowledge of Scripture, she assumed he was a fellow believer.

  Layla smiled. The man’s view of Christianity was probably far different than hers, even though they worshipped the same God. In her mind, she was more the earthy, sandals-wearing type, like Jesus had been when He was on earth. Michael Vance looked more like one of the stiff pew-warmers she’d encountered often in her travels. How sad for him.

  Michael led Layla into the barn, the dogs at their heels. A thin ranch hand with a handlebar mustache and kind eyes stood waiting beside a stall.

  “This is Norberto,” Michael said. The astonished look on the older man’s leathered face made Michael grin. “Norberto Cortez, meet our new vet, Layla Dixon.”

  “Ai-yi-yi.” Norberto whistled between his teeth. “You surprise me, boss.”

  “I surprise myself,” Michael admitted. “When I heard Doc Pritchard was out of town I figured we’d be on our own. Layla—Dr. Dixon—just happened to stop in at Fiona’s while I was there. One thing led to another.”

  “So, I see.”

  His ranch hand looked far too pleased with himself to suit Michael. “She’s here in an official capacity, to help the heifer.” He glanced at the stall. “How’s it going?”

  Norberto shrugged. “I don’t know. Not good, I think. She won’t let me get close enough to look.”

  “Let me see what I can do,” Layla said, stepping forward.

  Michael was right beside her. “You’re not going in there by yourself.”

  “Who says?”

  “I do.”

  “Fine.” She stood her ground, hands on her hips. “You go check on the calf and let me know if it’s breech or not.”

  Making a face, Michael backed down. “Okay. You can go in alone if you promise to be careful. We’ll be right out here if you need us.” Layla was already at the divided door of the stall, peering over the lower half that remained closed. He heard her speaking quietly. She paused for a few seconds, then eased the door open and stepped through.

  Silence hung in the air like a cloud of winter fog. Michael crept closer. To his amazement, Layla already had one arm draped over the red-and-white heifer’s neck and seemed to be mumbling something into its ear. Her lips were close enough that her breath was tickling the fine hairs inside the animal’s ear and making it twitch.

  He gestured to Norberto. “Look. You aren’t going to believe this.”

  The older man nodded. “I have to believe it, boss. I see it.”

  Layla looked up. “You guys can come in now. Just take it easy. No fast moves.” She placed the flat of her free hand on the cow’s taut side below the deep concaves of the hide covering its hip bones. “She’s in trouble, all right. The sooner we get her baby straightened out and pulled, the better her chances.”

  “I suppose she told you all that,” Michael remarked, a little peeved that he and his best worker hadn’t been able to calm the frightened animal the way this unusual woman had. “I heard you mumbling something to her but I never heard her say a thing to you.”

  “Mumbling, whispering, whatever. You didn’t hear her because you weren’t listening,” Layla replied. Michael had shed his good leather coat and was rolling up his sleeves. His touch on the heifer’s side made the animal flick its tail but it remained stationary. “That’s right, girl,” Layla said tenderly. “It’s okay. We’re here to help you. All of us. Even these ugly old cowboys.”

  Norberto chuckled under his breath as he bent down to inspect the business end of the cow, then sobered. “It’s breech, boss. You want me to try for the legs or shall I let the doc do it?”

  “Better leave our cow mumbler right where she is, at least till we get further along,” Michael said. He looked to Layla. “That okay with you?”

  Her grin was wide, her blue eyes sparkling. “Suits me. You two have probably pulled a lot more calves than I have. I defer to experience.” She glanced down at her outfit. “Besides, I’m not dressed for barn duty—not that that would stop me if I was needed.”

  Already assisting Norberto, Michael barely glanced at her as he said, “I’m beginning to get the idea that nothing stops you once you make up your mind.”

  She laughed quietly. Michael was positive he heard her murmur, “Smart man.”

  The calf was soon born and wobbling around on gangly legs. To Layla’s chagrin, its wild-eyed mama regarded it as an alien monster she wanted nothing to do with.

  “That happens, especially with first-time mothers,” Michael said. “She’ll probably settle down and accept it soon. If not, we’ll give it a bottle of colostrum. I keep some frozen for emergencies.”

  “I’ll stay and work with her,” Layla said. “I don’t want her to get scared and step on her poor baby.”

  “She won’t. We’ll take it away and dry it so it doesn’t get a chill, then bring it back and try again.”

  “Good idea.” Layla shivered. “It is getting pretty cold. Must be almost dark.”

  “It’s closer to eight,” Michael said. “That’s why I sent Norberto home. His wife, Imelda, has a sprained ankle and she needs him.”

  “Oh.” Layla yawned. “No wonder I’m so tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “Where are you staying?” Michael asked. “What motel?”

  “I hadn’t gotten around to renting a room when I stopped to eat.” Truthfully, once she’d become involved with Michael Vance, little else had crossed her mind. “Don’t worry. I can bed down out here with Winona.”

  “With who?” Michael’s brow furrowed.

  “Winona. Your cow. That’s her name.”

  “The kid who raised her called her Cripple Creek Sunset Princess, or something like that. Where’d you get Winona?”

  “She likes it best,” Layla said, giggling at the flabbergasted look on his face. “You name your dogs. Why not the other animals?”

  “I run between two hundred and two hundred-fifty head, depending on the season. Numbered ear tags are much more sensible.”

  “But not nearly as much fun,” Layla countered.

  “Ranching isn’t a game. It’s a business.”

  Michael threw a large bath towel over the calf and picked it up by closing his arms around it with all four of its long legs gathered together and hanging down.

  Layla held the stall door open for him and followed him out, closing it behind her. “Where to, now?”

  “Up to the house. It’s warmer there. It’s been six or seven hours since we ate and I’m starving. Can you cook?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “Because I need a housekeeper worse than I need an on-site veterinarian. It wouldn’t be a permanent job. Just till Imelda gets back on her feet. What do you say?”

  “Well, I—”

  “You could look after Winona, too. As long as you got meals on the table for me and a few of the hands and kept the place fairly clean, you could have all the rest of the time off to play with the livestock.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d like sleeping in the barn for very many nights. And I’m not the kind of girl who’d move in with you, no matter what my upbringing leads you to believe.”

&n
bsp; Michael’s hands were full so he pointed with a nod of his head. “Grab my jacket, will you? We’ll walk to the house.”

  “I said, I don’t think it’s right for us to sleep under the same roof.”

  “I heard you. I agree. I’ve got an empty cabin a little ways out. You can have that. It’ll give you some privacy. You can even turn your dog loose out there as long as King doesn’t get wind of him.”

  Layla gasped. “Oh, no! Poor Smokey. I forgot all about him.” She peered into the dimness. “Where’d your dogs go?”

  “I sent them home with Norberto,” Michael said. “Let your dog out before he destroys your truck and come on. This soggy little guy is getting heavy.”

  She wanted to say, “You’re a sweetheart,” but thought better of it. Instead, she told him, “Okay. It’s a deal. You’ve got yourself a temporary cook. Smokey and I will be honored to work on the Double V.”

  Chapter Three

  Layla, Michael and the wobbly calf were together on the kitchen floor. Smokey lay under the table, snoring.

  “I think his head and ears are dry enough,” she said, cupping the calf’s rust red and white face in her hands. “How are you coming with the rest of him?”

  “Fine. I’m about ready to take him back to his mother and see how she’s doing.”

  Layla got to her feet. “I’ll go with you.”

  “I’d rather you stayed here and made us something to eat,” Michael said.

  “Okay, but…” A distant knocking drew her attention. “I think you have company.”

  “The timing could be better.” He steadied the calf on the slippery floor. “Do you mind answering the door.”

  “Not at all. Take good care of Wilbur. I’ll be right back.” Whirling and starting for the front of the house, she giggled when she heard her new boss mutter, “Wilbur?”

  The knocking persisted. A woman’s voice called, “Michael? It’s me.”

  Layla opened the door. On the porch stood a short, thin, graying woman holding a casserole dish. She reminded Layla of a grammar school teacher she’d once had.

  “Hello,” Layla said brightly. “Michael’s busy in the kitchen.” She swung the door wide. “Won’t you come in?”

  The other woman’s brown eyes widened. She didn’t move.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Layla reached for the covered dish. “It must be heavy. Umm, it smells delicious. Italian?”

  “Yes.”

  Recovering her composure the woman breezed past, leaving Layla to follow. She heard an exclamation seconds before she, too, reached the kitchen. It sounded like her new boss was getting scolded, big-time.

  “Michael Vance,” the woman shouted. “Look at this floor. I don’t believe you did it again. What do you think barns are for? That’s where you’re supposed to keep your livestock, not in the house! Your grandfather must be turning over in his grave.”

  “I doubt it, Mom.” He smiled sheepishly and gestured. “Layla Dixon, I’d like you to meet my mother, Marilyn. Mom works for the Colorado Springs Sentinel.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Vance.” Carefully placing the casserole on the table she held out her hand.

  Marilyn shook it briefly, then glared at her son once more. “I guess I was misinformed. I heard you were all alone out here and needed a decent meal so I brought you some of your aunt Lidia’s lasagna. Guess you won’t be needing it after all.” One thin eyebrow arched.

  “We’d love to have it, wouldn’t we, Doctor?”

  This situation was getting funnier and funnier. Marilyn was letting her son know in no uncertain terms that she didn’t approve of his housekeeping or his guest, and Michael was doing his best to explain without actually copping a plea the way he would have as a boy. It was all Layla could do to keep from giggling.

  Marilyn stared, first at Michael, then at Layla, plainly giving her the once-over before she asked, “Doctor? Is somebody sick?”

  “Dr. Dixon is a vet,” Michael explained. “She came to help with a difficult calving.”

  “That’s right,” Layla added with her sweetest smile. “The cow delivered and I’m happy to report Wilbur is doing just fine, too.”

  “Who’s Wilbur?” Marilyn scowled at her son. “I thought your new foreman was named Hector.”

  Cheeks reddening, lips pressed together, Michael looked as if he was trying not to laugh. His struggles were so comical Layla made a muted, chortling noise, which led Michael to sound like he was strangling as he choked back a snort. Their gazes met. Mischief twinkled in their eyes. Together, they erupted into riotous laughter that brought Smokey out of his hidey-hole and into the fray.

  “Will somebody please tell me what’s so funny?” Marilyn insisted. “And when did you get another dog?”

  Michael was the first to regain his self-control. “Wilbur’s this calf, not my foreman,” he said. “The doc here likes to name all the critters she treats. Smokey’s her dog.”

  “Oh.” Marilyn’s tone became conciliatory. “How nice. I hope you like lasagna, my dear. Michael’s aunt Lidia is famous for her authentic Italian cooking.”

  “I’m sure it will be wonderful,” Layla said, hoping against hope that it was a vegetarian dish and doubting it very much. “Before we eat, I think we should take Wilbur back to his mama and see if we can get him to nurse, don’t you, Mr. Vance?”

  “Actually, I was about to suggest that,” Michael said. “After we put him in the barn, I think Dr. Dixon and I should take turns eating so one of us can stay with the pair and get them used to each other.” He shot a quick glance at the casserole, then winked at Layla.

  She understood immediately. “Right. I’ll take the first shift so you can visit with your mother. Let’s go, Smokey.”

  Michael hoisted the calf and followed, still chuckling quietly.

  “I mopped the floor while you were gone,” Marilyn told him when he returned.

  “You didn’t need to do that, Mom.”

  “I know. I’m glad your veterinarian decided to give us this chance to talk,” she said, dishing up a plate of lasagna for her son. “I wanted to tell you what I heard about Fiona’s boy.”

  “Which one? Brendan or Quinn?”

  She put the plate on the table. “Brendan.”

  Marilyn had lowered her voice even though they were alone, leading Michael to suspect she was about to tell him something she shouldn’t know in the first place.

  “Fiona says the FBI is investigating the attempt on Uncle Max’s life. And guess who they’ve been watching?”

  “I don’t have a clue. Aren’t you going to eat with me?”

  “You go ahead. I had supper hours ago.” She took a chair next to Michael and leaned closer. “Owen Frost!”

  “The deputy mayor? No way!”

  “Yes. Before Max was shot, he’d mentioned to Lidia that he thought Owen was acting funny. Lidia told Brendan and he passed the word to his superiors.”

  “That doesn’t make the man guilty. Owen’s had a rough personal life. Maybe he’s having trouble dealing with it.”

  “Ha! No wonder. Even his own daughter won’t have anything to do with him. Why do you think Jenna left town?”

  “Are you sure you have your facts straight, Mom? Brendan’s a great kidder.”

  “I don’t think he’d joke about something this serious, especially not to his own mother.” Marilyn’s forehead knit. “I’ll have to ask Fiona for more details.”

  “You’ve been hanging around that newspaper office too long,” Michael said. “You’re beginning to snoop like Colleen Montgomery.”

  “Nonsense. There’s not a reporter’s bone in my body.” Marilyn rose. “Have you had your fill? Shall I dish up some for the doctor? I could take it to her.” She paused, smiled. “Or you could.”

  “Later.” Michael was stalling. No sense hurting his mother’s feelings by revealing that the beef-filled lasagna was not something Layla would knowingly eat. “Right now, I’d better go check the cabin, make sure it’s liv
able and light the fireplace to warm it up faster.”

  “The cabin? Why?”

  “I’ve offered it to Dr. Dixon while she’s working here.” He gave his mother a lopsided smile. “You didn’t think I was going to let her move in here with me, did you?”

  “Perish the thought.”

  “Exactly. Pastor Gabriel would be knocking on my door, Bible in hand, in a heartbeat if I pulled a stunt like that.” His grin widened. “So would you.”

  “Your father would be proud of the man you’ve become,” Marilyn said quietly. “I know I am.”

  “Except for the calf in the kitchen?”

  She laughed. “Nobody’s perfect.”

  Even though Layla had snacked on granola for energy, she was so weary by the time they finished in the barn and Michael showed her to her cabin, she barely noticed how cozy the compact dwelling was. She paused on a rag rug just inside the door to remove her boots while her blue heeler sniffed his way across the room.

  “The bedroom is up there. In the loft.” He pointed.

  Layla’s eyes widened. “Whoa! I have to climb a ladder?”

  “I like to think of it as a very steep stairway,” he said. “If you get up at night, you’d be wise to turn on a light. Even though there’s a railing, I’d hate to see you make a misstep and fall off the edge.”

  “Yeah, so would I,” Layla said cynically. “Any reason why I couldn’t just sleep down here on the couch?”

  “None that I can think of, as long as you’re comfortable. I imagine Smokey would prefer to stay off ladders, too.”

  “Probably so.” She sighed and plopped onto the sofa. “Mind if I put my feet up on the coffee table?”

  “Make yourself at home.”

  “Thanks. I’m not used to wearing those boots. I’m more a moccasin kind of person.”

  “I thought you were going to say you preferred going barefoot.”

  “Not in the winter. I may be free-spirited but I’m not crazy.” She glanced past him at the ladder leading to the loft. Crazy would be to climb that thing when she felt queasy just thinking of it. Getting up on a chair was about as high as she could stand without succumbing to dizziness. That weakness, however, was not one she felt the need to reveal to her host.