Colorado Secrets

Colorado Secrets
Five Star, Hardcover (380 p)
Release Date: June 17, 2009
ISBN 13: 978-1594147920
Pre-order from Amazon

Excerpt:            

Brad Dalton ran a soothing hand over the rounded belly of his red dun mare. The old girl had been bloating her stomach the moment he’d thrown a saddle on her back.

“Relax, Big Red,” he said, gently nudging her gut with his knee. “I’m not in the mood to eat dirt tonight.” When she blew out a gust of air, he tightened the leather cinch to the next notch.

Standing next to him in the aisle of the Lucky Horseshoe Stables and Riding Arena, Blue Thunder snorted and rubbed his head against Brad’s arm. The blue roan gelding was all saddled and as anxious to hit the trails as Brad. “Take it easy, Blue,” he soothed, stroking the gelding’s face. “We’re still waiting on Jimmy.”

Brad glanced at his watch. Already quarter past six in the evening. A needling in Brad’s gut warned him something was wrong. For the last year, he’d been meeting with Jimmy King, a twelve-year-old boy from the Big Brothers and Big Sisters organization. They’d catch a movie now and then, play tennis at the fitness center, or Jimmy’s favorite activity, meet Brad here at the equestrian center and ride Big Red on the trails.

Jimmy hadn’t missed an outing once, and most times he was twenty minutes early. But ever since school had started a couple of months ago, Jimmy had been having some troubles with several senior boys from his school, shoving him around and taking his school books. They’d even tried to get Jimmy to shoplift for them from an area convenience store.

Even though he’d just turned thirty-nine, Brad remembered a little too well what it had been like to be twelve and how hard it was to stand up to older boys. They had a way of making a kid see things their way—a fist in the gut or a mouth full of dirty toilet water could be very convincing. He was ashamed to admit to Jimmy that he’d lifted more than a few packs of cigarettes in his day.

So far, Jimmy had stood up to the older boys and had stayed out of trouble. But for how long?

Brad swept off his straw Stetson and made an anxious glance toward the parking lot. The sun was nearly set and the early autumn temperatures were already dropping into the low forties. A cool front had settled in over the foothills of Cheyenne Mountain, and the tip of Pikes Peak had been covered in white for over a month now. Breathing deep, he took in the smells of the barn that were mixed with the scent of an early snow. He loved the change of seasons in the Colorado Rockies, and a brisk evening trail ride was just the stress release he needed after dealing with electricians and contractors all day.

Still worried about Jimmy, he tugged out his cell phone, hoping the boy’s mom knew where he might be so late. He dialed Jimmy’s home phone, but got an answering machine. Hopefully, he and his mom were on their way.
A shrill whinny and a resounding thud jerked his attention to the rear exit of the barn. It sounded like a horse kicking the sides of a metal trailer.
Another horse answered the call with a loud whinny from across the barn. Two more thuds and a ruckus of horse screams kicked Brad’s heart into overdrive.

He tucked his phone away, checked to make sure his two horses were tethered securely to the stalls, then took off at a dead run toward the commotion in the parking lot. A lot of young kids cycled through the equestrian facility on a regular basis, taking riding lessons, grooming their stabled horses. And with Jimmy’s whereabouts on his mind, he wanted to make sure no one was hurt.

The moment he ran into the early evening sunset, he found the root of the problem. A small sprite of a gal stood inside a fifth-wheel horse trailer, trying to nudge her horse backwards down a metal ramp. A second bay-colored mare was tied to the outside of the trailer, stomping her back feet and tossing her head.

He scanned the graveled parking lot for signs of anyone helping the lady with the horses. He spotted Skip Green, one of the young stable hands, leading off a big black stallion. Another loud whinny from the bay mare tied to the trailer gave him a pretty good indication what was happening.
Brad whipped out a pair of pigskin work gloves from the back of his Wranglers. “Hey, Skip. What can I do to help?”

Skip shook out the slack in the stallion’s lead rope, urging the horse to follow him down the aisle. “Take the bay mare over to stall fourteen,” he yelled over his shoulder. “Give her some hay and see if you can get her calmed down. I’ll move the stallion over to the other side of the barn.”

Brad tugged his cowboy hat low and slowly eased his way beside the bay mare. The horse pranced nervously back and forth, blowing air through her nose, sounding like a low whistle. Her tail twitched off to the side, and she was doing her damnedest to get the attention of the big black.

A deep return whinny echoed from all the way across the barn. The mare tossed her head and returned the call with a loud squeal of her own. Brad chuckled at the love signals going on between the two horses. He untied the bay mare and gave her a pat on the face. “Hey, sweet girl. Is that your boyfriend?”

Hooves tromping down the ramp of the trailer drew his attention to where the woman urged her horse the rest of the way to the ground. When the lady turned around and met his gaze, his heart gave a swift kick against his ribcage. His breath backed up into his lungs. Sleek and curvy, and probably in her mid-thirties, pretty didn’t even begin to describe this woman. A long, caramel brown ponytail bobbed at her crown. A blue denim shirt hung loosely over a pair of snug fitting jeans that flared at the bottom, brushing a pair of worn leather cowboy boots. Her complexion was a soft tan, and she wore no makeup that he could tell. But there was something about her eyes that captured his attention. Exuberant brown eyes met his gaze, and for a split second, he wondered if he’d met her before.

“Be careful,” she called out in a breathless voice over her shoulder. “Sweet Pea can get pretty ornery when she’s in heat.” She nodded her head to the bay mare at the end of his lead rope, and he had to pull himself from his trance to return her comment.

“Skip said to put her in stall fourteen. I’d be glad to escort her over if you need some help.”

“Are you sure you can handle her?” she asked, all five-foot-three of her giving his six-foot-two a cursory glance. “Maybe you could take Nellie here out to the south Paddock. She’s a little more agreeable tonight.” She turned and gave her horse a pat on the neck.

Brad had to contain a grin. Other than the fact that he probably outweighed this woman two-to-one, he’d been around horses most of his life. Even a disagreeable, lovesick mare was a far cry from the rank, bucking broncs he’d had to break in on his uncle’s work farm. “I think Sweet Pea and I will get along just fine,” he said, untying the bay mare.

“I couldn’t get any closer to the south paddock. All this blasted construction makes it nearly impossible to maneuver a horse trailer around here.”

He almost cringed. The Colorado Springs equestrian facility had been on the verge of bankruptcy when Skip’s dad, Wiley Green and his brother, Duke, took over the Lucky Horseshoe Stables and Riding Arena last spring. The Greens came from a long line of horsemen and had a pretty successful training program. They had a solid reputation and traveled around the country, giving horse clinics and selling DVD’s. They’d sunk a huge chunk of change into the stables, building a whole new indoor riding arena and heated horse barn lined with fancy new stalls. They’d hired Brad’s architectural firm to modernize and upgrade the entire forty acre complex. Although they were coming in a good four weeks ahead of schedule, there’d been a few minor setbacks along the way, fighting zoning committees and hassling with various contractors.

Pained that he was partially responsible for the construction mess, he glanced back at the barn and nodded. “There’s been some problems with the electrical and plumbing installation. I’ll see if I can’t speed things up a bit.”

“Good luck.” She tapped her horse on the rump with the end of her rope. “If you talk to Skip, tell him I’ll meet him in the office.”

Before he had a chance to get her name, she and her horse disappeared around the other side of the trailer. Other than the stable hand, it appeared as though she was alone. He made another quick scan of the area, and for some reason, he wondered if there was a husband in the picture. Although he knew a lot of women owned horses, it seemed odd there was no one else around to help her.

Sweet Pea whinnied and tossed her head, gazing longingly down the corridor where Skip had taken the black stallion. Loosening his grip on the lead rope, he made a couple of kissing sounds, giving the mare the go-ahead to enter the barn. Sweet Pea wasn’t too keen on taking the opposite direction once he found the aisle with stall number fourteen. She stomped her front feet and snorted, tossing her head toward the direction of the stallion.

He reached over and unlatched the stall door. “Sorry, girl,” he said, sliding the door off to the side. “No action tonight.” Something he could definitely relate to, knowing he would be going home alone to his own empty condo.

His thoughts turned back to the pretty lady with the long brunette ponytail, and he realized his curiosity about her marital status had more to do with the attraction he’d felt the moment she’d turned and their eyes had met. A feeling he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

Then he gave himself a mental shake. He couldn’t act on those feelings even if she did turn out to be single. He wasn’t into one night stands, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to get serious with a woman again. If truth be told, he hadn’t been serious with anyone since his divorce was final two years ago.

Anything beyond a first date and women invariably wanted to know all about him, about his family, and where he came from. Memories he never wanted to think about again. Even his ex-wife didn’t know about the things he’d done as a kid.

Giving the bay a wide birth, he lead Sweet Pea into the stall where a fresh layer of bedding had been put down and a bucket of water hung on the wall. Brad grabbed a quarter bale of hay and dumped it in a wooden manger in the corner of the stall. She lowered her head and sniffed her new surroundings, quickly finding the fresh hay in the corner and eagerly grabbing a mouthful.

Tugging off his pigskin gloves, he slid a hand over the mare’s hindquarters, assessing her conformation and checking her legs for any swelling or joint abnormalities. His red dun had developed a little arthritis, and it wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t ride her at all. Sweet Pea looked sound, and her back was short and strong with a long underline.

He’d bought three horses shortly after his ex-wife had moved to Denver with his two girls. He’d hoped to give his daughters something to look forward to whenever they came down to visit him in Colorado Springs.

Unfortunately, now that they were both in high school, involved in sports, friends, and heaven help him, boys, those visits had been fewer and farther in between. A situation he hoped to remedy by opening a new branch office of his architectural firm in Denver by the end of the year. Hopefully, he’d get to see his girls more and be able to attend their school events and sports activities. Yet another reason why he didn’t want to get involved with a woman right now. He wanted to devote all his time to his girls and his firm. He didn’t need any other distractions.

Skip strode around the corner and met Brad at the stall. “Thanks for helping me out, man.”

Brad nodded. “No problem.”

He thumbed his cowboy hat back and leaned an elbow on the ledge of the stall. “Since she’s in heat, thought I’d better keep her separated.”

Brad strode out of the stall and slid the door closed. Sweet Pea sauntered over and stuck her nose through the wrought iron bars. He smiled and scratched the mare on the forehead. “She sure is a pretty one.” Although he was referring to the horse, his mind was still on the horse’s owner. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d met her somewhere before today. “The lady said she’d meet you in the office. Is she a new tenant?”

Skip shook his head and made a quick glance toward the parking lot, lowering his voice. “Kind of a sad story. She’s a widowed woman trying to raise four teenagers on her own. Uncle Duke said she’s having some financial trouble. She sold us four of her top horses and is talking about selling her entire ranch if she can’t get things turned around.”

“Damn, sorry to hear that. She looks familiar. What’s her name?”

“Garrison is all I know. Uncle Duke is the one who’s been dealing with her. I guess she’s been helping out with the Grant-a-wish program here at the stables for the past three years.”

Garrison. The name sounded familiar, but he wasn’t sure where he’d heard it before. Maybe a previous client, though he usually remembered names and faces he’d dealt with at his firm. He turned back to the mare, giving her another once over with his gaze, stopping at her large, dark, almond-shaped eyes. Like her owner, she had warm, compassionate eyes that seemed to transfix him in her gaze. He scratched the mare between the ears. “Do you think your uncle would consider selling her?”

“Are you interested?” Skip asked, giving him a sideways glance. “She’s a little feisty now because she’s in heat, but she’d make a great mount for your girls.”

“Tempting,” Brad said, rubbing his chin, contemplating.

“There’s three more just like her out in the south paddock,” Skip added. “All registered with proven performance records. Mrs. Garrison thought a couple of them would make good mounts for the Grant-a-Wish kids, but if you’re interested, we could probably cut you a deal.”

“Tell you what,” he said, patting the mare on neck. “My girls are coming down from Denver this weekend. If they take a liking to any of them, I’ll let you know.”

Skip turned and arched a brow. “Is Pamela coming down?”

Brad almost groaned. The look in Skip’s eyes was enough warning to give Brad heartburn. He liked the kid and all, but Skip had to be almost twenty.

Too damned old for Brad’s sixteen-year-old daughter. “She’ll only be down for the day,” he settled on saying. “She’s got a volleyball game Saturday night in Denver.”

Hoping to change the subject, he strode over to the electrical box hanging on the wall. “Anymore trouble with the lighting?”

Skip flipped on the overhead lights, illuminating the long cement corridor. “Everything’s working great except the north parking lot. The pole lights still aren’t working.”

“Damn,” Brad mumbled. “Thought we had all the lighting straightened out.” He’d spent all day Monday with the electrical and plumbing contractors, trying to wrap up a few loose ends. “Are you still having problems in the washing bays?”

“Those work great, but now we’re having problems with the automatic waterers in the south paddock.”

Frustrated, Brad shoved a hand on his waist. “All the blueprints are back at my office, and I’m supposed to meet Jimmy for a trail ride. Think this could wait till tomorrow? I could swing by after work, say around six or so.”

“That’d be great. Dad gets back from his horse clinic in Cheyenne then anyway. They’re pouring the rest of the north parking lot and finishing up the front sidewalk tomorrow morning. Should make it a little more wheelchair accessible.”

And horse trailer friendly, he thought with chagrin, remembering the Garrison woman’s comments about maneuvering around the construction cones.

Brad’s cell phone jingled in the front pocket of his western shirt. Glancing at the caller I.D., he recognized the number as Jimmy’s home phone. “It’s Jimmy’s number. He was supposed to meet me here a half hour ago.” He flipped open the phone. “Dalton here.”

“Mr. Dalton? This is Mrs. Swift, Jimmy’s mother.”

A single mom in her mid-fifties trying to raise five kids on her own while working fulltime, Mrs. Swift always sounded exhausted. But tonight she held a trace of hysteria in her tone. His concern spiked. “Hello, Mrs. Swift. What is it? Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know. Jimmy hasn’t come home yet. I usually drop him off at the stables and pick him up, but I thought maybe you’d made other arrangements and forgot to tell me. Is he with you?”

“No, I haven’t heard from him since we played tennis at the fitness club last Saturday morning.”

“I’ve called all his friends.” Mrs. Swift practically cried. “They said they saw him walking home from school with some friends. After what happened last week, I’m worried he might be in some sort of trouble. I don’t know what to do.”

“Calm down, Mrs. Swift,” he said, trying to tell himself the same thing, but all he could think about was what might be happening to Jimmy at this very moment. “I’ll drive over and help you look for him. Why don’t you call all his friends again? I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dalton. Ever since Jimmy’s father walked out, you’re the one person he can count on when things get tough.”

“Jimmy’s a good kid,” he reassured her and meant it. Growing up with only one older brother, Brad felt as close to Jimmy as if he were his real little brother. “I promise, we’ll find him.”

Brad flipped his phone shut.

“What’s up,” Skip asked, sounding concerned.

“Jimmy’s mom said he didn’t come home after school, and she’s afraid he might be in some kind of trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I don’t know yet, but some older boys at school have been hassling him. I need to find him. Think you could get one of your trainers to unsaddle my horses? I probably won’t be back in time to ride tonight.”

Skip nodded. “No problem. I’ll see to them myself. Let me know if you need any help with Jimmy.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Brad’s cell phone rang again. He quickly checked the caller I.D., hoping it was Jimmy’s mother with good news. No such luck. He recognized the Denver number as his older brother’s and quickly sent it to voicemail.
He’d deal with B.J. another day.

“I’d better go find Jimmy,” he said, slipping the phone into his pocket.
“Call me if you need anything,” Skip offered again. “I’ll be around till nine or so.”

Brad tugged his cowboy hat low and hustled out to the graveled parking lot to his red Chevy Blazer. It took him nearly twenty minutes to get to South Nevada Boulevard, where rows of older buildings lined the street on either side. The sun was almost completely set, leaving darkened alleyways that ran behind the complexes. Brad rolled down his window and drove slowly through Jimmy’s neighborhood, heading toward his family’s apartment building.

Several groups of kids were huddled around various parked cars along the streets. He peered into one group of boys. The loud bass of their stereo practically shook his Blazer. The kids looked like they ranged in age from thirteen to probably twenty, but he saw no sign of Jimmy.

He drove toward a four-way intersection and noticed another group of boys standing around a parked car in an alley. Two boys jumped into the back of the vehicle, a third yanked open the driver’s side door. Brad slowed and approached the corner, then noticed the small car was rocking. His heart sped up when he saw two more good-sized boys in front of the vehicle, pounding on the hood. The car’s engine was still running. Through his opened window, he thought he heard a woman’s muffled scream. His eyes widened. Adrenaline surged through his body.

They were attacking the driver of the car!

Brad slammed his Blazer into park, reached under his seat and pulled out a tire iron. “Hey!” he yelled, jumping out of the truck. “Get away from her!”
The two boys in front of the car turned and fled. A kid in the back seat bolted out of the other door, screaming over his shoulder. “Get out of here, Tony!”

One of the boys was still on top of the woman with his hand covering her mouth. Brad reached in and grabbed him by his ugly, green-spiked hair. “Get off her!” he roared.

Struggling against him, the kid slammed the back of his head smack into Brad’s chin. Then he shoved his whole body backwards, about knocking Brad onto his ass.

Son-of-a-bitch! He grabbed hold of the door with one hand to steady himself just as the kid took off on foot into the alley. Brad wanted like hell to catch the little chicken shit, but he needed to stay with the woman and make sure she was okay. He just hoped he’d showed up in time.
With his chest heaving in frustration, Brad hunkered down next to the woman. Her body trembled. Her eyes were clenched shut. A guttural moan escaped her mouth. He dropped the tire iron on the ground and spoke gently, cupping his hands over her shoulders. “Ma’am, it’s okay. You’re safe now. Are you hurt?”

Tears streamed down her face as she let out an agonizing cry. It was only then that he realized she wasn’t quite a woman, but a teenage girl. She didn’t look any older than his oldest daughter. Sixteen at the most. Blood dripped from the corner of her lip. Her jean skirt was shoved up over her hips. Thank God she still had on her underwear. He reached down and carefully straightened her skirt over her legs.

A green sedan screeched to a halt beside him. An older woman jumped out and screamed, “Don’t touch her!” Then she whacked him on the back of the head with her purse.

Holy shit! She must’ve had a brick in the bottom of that thing. For a moment, his vision blurred. He swayed. After the third whack, he managed to reach up and deflect another blow. “I’m not hurting her,” he grunted. “Please, give me a second and I can explain.” He just hoped the girl was coherent enough to back him up. Although his juvenile record was sealed, one quick investigation into his past, and he’d be behind bars for the next fifty years.

“It’s o-k-kay, Mrs. Wilson. He s-s-saved me,” she added on another sob.

“Theresa? Oh, my God. Are you okay?”

“Do you know her?” he asked Mrs. Wilson, kneeling on the ground next to the girl outside the passenger door.

“She’s my best friend’s daughter,” Mrs. Wilson said. “Her name is Theresa Simmons. What happened?”

He shook his head and pulled out a clean handkerchief from his back pocket and gave it to Theresa for her split lip. He wondered if he was bleeding himself. Between the kid nailing him in the chin, and Mrs. Wilson’s handbag on the back of the head, Brad felt like he’d just been in a bar room brawl. “It looked like several boys jumped her when she stopped at the intersection. I need to call the police,” he said, tugging out his cell phone.

“No!” Theresa cried. “No police! P-please.” She tried to sit up.

Brad slipped a hand behind her back and eased her up behind the steering wheel. “Take it easy, darlin’,” he murmured, smoothing a palm over the back of her disheveled, long, dark hair. A nasty red welt was starting to darken across her cheekbone.

“I know better,” she cried through deep hiccups. “I didn’t have my doors locked.” Then she looked up at him with widened, brown eyes. “Please, mister. Don’t call the cops.”

He wasn’t sure that was a good idea, especially since the boys had gotten away. “Shh, just calm down. Can I call someone? Is your mother home?”
“No! Don’t tell my mother. She had to cover the second shift at the restaurant.” She looked up to Mrs. Wilson with tear-filled eyes. “Please, don’t call her. I wasn’t supposed to be out tonight.”

Mrs. Wilson touched his shoulder. “I live in the apartment below hers. I’ll follow her and make sure she gets home safely.”

Still squatting next to Theresa, Brad moved her hair off her shoulder so he could see her face. “I still think we should call the police. You should probably see a doctor, too.”

She shook her head and licked her lips. “No, I’ll be fine. They just scared me a little bit. I’ll be more careful from now on.”

“Did you know any of them? Do you want to press charges?”

She shook her head and closed her eyes. “They all go to my school. I can’t turn them in or it’ll be worse for me. Please. I just want to go home and forget this ever happened.”

Brad stood and gritted his teeth as he surveyed the area, totally empty except for a few parked cars. Everyone had disappeared.

He pulled out his wallet and handed her his card. “If you change your mind and decide to press charges, this is how you can get a hold of me. Call me any time.”

She nodded and took the card then looked up at him through tear-filled, shiny, brown eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Dalton. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn’t stopped.”

Mrs. Wilson climbed into her car, did a U-turn, and came up beside them. Brad followed them in his Blazer as they drove slowly through the intersection and made their way down the street to the next apartment complex. When he saw them park and head into the building together, unharmed, he suddenly remembered what he was doing here in the first place.

What if Jimmy had gotten involved with something like this?

He flipped open his cell phone and quickly called Mrs. Swift.

She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

“This is Mr. Dalton, has Jimmy shown up yet?”

“Oh, Mr. Dalton. I was just getting ready to call. He showed up a few minutes ago. He and some friends went to the video arcade and lost track of time. I’m sorry to have troubled you.”

Brad rubbed the back of his head, relieved. “Are you sure everything’s all right? Do you want me to stop over?”

“Heavens no. You’ve already done enough. Jimmy feels just awful about standing you up.”

“I’m just glad everything turned out for the best.” He glanced in his rearview mirror checking for any blood on his chin. No blood, but it still hurt like hell. “Tell you what. I’ve got some time tomorrow night if Jimmy wants to get together at the stables. It’ll have to be after six though. I’m going over some plans with the owner right after work. We can practice on some roping in the indoor arena.”

“I’m sure Jimmy would like that. I’ll drop him off around six-thirty. Good night, Mr. Dalton.”

Brad tossed his phone on the dash and did another survey of the area, looking for any kids still lurking around the vicinity. He only wished he’d caught the boys. It sickened him to think they’d gotten away—probably only to do it again another night to some other unsuspecting girl.