Burn It Up(64)

“Changing.” And Miah wasn’t going to get away with slipping in that little detail about the bar, undetected. Surely it would be Raina and Duncan on duty tonight. She was surprised he’d want to face the two of them, together. Plus he was doing something he rarely did—avoiding eye contact, staring blankly at the television.

“The bar, huh?” she said. “And you’re acting kinda funny about it.”

He smiled and met her gaze. “It was a funny night. Not funny ha-ha, just . . . weird.”

“Because of Raina and Duncan?”

“Sure, a little. Not as bad as it used to be, though. Just weird being out like that.”

She noticed his clothes now. Jeans with no holes, and no dust caking the thighs, and a button-up shirt. “Oh. Did you . . . Were you on a date or something?”

He laughed. “No, no. But I am a couple years overdue for one, so I figured I ought to start showing my face in town more often.”

“Good for you.” He wouldn’t have much trouble. He was handsome and charming, and rich by local standards. The catch to beat all catches, in Fortuity. “It won’t take long, I’m sure.”

“You clearly don’t know how rusty my flirting game is.”

“Did you meet any—” She was cut off by a loud pounding coming from the front door.

Miah was on his feet in a breath, expression hard as he hurried from the room. Casey must have heard the knocking as well; he emerged barefoot from the bathroom, still buckling his belt, and disappeared after Miah.

Alarmed, she hefted the baby, holding her close and straining for clues. There was another knock, cut short by the sound of the door opening.

“Denny.” Miah’s voice. He sounded surprised.

A woman spoke, but Abilene couldn’t hear. Still, if it was somebody Miah knew by name, it couldn’t be bad, surely. Far more curious than alarmed now, she carried Mercy past the kitchen to the front hall and stood beside Casey. A young woman about her own age was just inside the door—pretty, with a deep tan and a dark braid. She was dressed oddly, in yoga pants and flip-flops, with a blanket draped around her shoulders.

“There were camera flashes,” she said to Miah, with a glance at Abilene and the now-fussing baby.

“Through the bunkhouse window?” he asked, grabbing his boots from under the bench.

“No, a ways off, but bright enough to see. He was taking photos, over by the stables—”

In the distance, three pops—gunshots, unmistakably.

Footsteps came thumping down the front stairs, and a moment later Don Church joined them in the crowded hall, tucking his shirt into his pants like he’d just pulled them on.

“What on earth was that?”

“Gunshots,” Miah said, and jogged back toward the kitchen.

“Could be Jason’s,” the girl named Denny told Don, her face ghostly white now, voice shaky. “Somebody was creeping around near the bunks and stables. Jason and I were in the kitchen. He grabbed his rifle and ran outside, but the guy bolted as soon as the door opened. He chased him, and I ran over here.”

“You call the Sheriff’s Department?” Don asked.

“No,” she said, and let Miah brush past, rifle in hand. “My phone was in my bunk.” She disappeared after him out the front door, followed by Don once he’d laced his shoes. Abilene could hear him talking to a 911 dispatcher as his voice faded away. That left her and Casey standing around, staring at each other.

She cut him off when his mouth opened. “Don’t go.”

His shoulders softened. After a beat he seemed to submit. “Okay.”

“Someone’s sneaking around again?”

“Yeah, that was one of the ranch hands.”

“I figured . . . It isn’t James.”

Casey shook his head. “Doubtful. Not unless he’s a peeping tom as well as an arms dealer. C’mon, let’s get back where it’s warm.” He shut the door and they returned to the den. The fire had cooled to a pink glow and Casey fed the hearth a couple fat logs while Abilene settled once more on the couch. She kept the baby in her lap, feeling uneasy.

“I hope no one got hurt . . . I wonder what on earth it could be about.” Not her, she prayed, though it seemed unlikely.

Casey sat on the end of the couch, facing her, hugging his knees. “Maybe a thief. Times are tough, and there’s plenty of expensive equipment here. Or maybe some creep with designs on one of the girls.”

“‘Creep’ is an understatement, if they came armed.”

“True enough.” His gaze softened, settling on the baby.

“I feel like we should be doing something.” She bounced Mercy, more to soothe her own nerves than to calm the baby’s. There hadn’t been any more shots, at least. That was something.

“We stay put, keep the baby safe,” he said. “Fill Christine in if she comes down. Fingers crossed she managed to sleep through it.”

At that, they both fell quiet for a minute or more, the crackle of the fire dominating the still room. Her heart slowed a little, as moments passed with no further shots.

“That phone call you got earlier,” she said gently, wanting a distraction. “Was it what you’d thought it was?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a follow-up conversation tomorrow; then after that, it should be all cleared up.”