met her cool smile. “The FBI considers you questionable. If you want to know.”
“And you don’t?”
“No.”
She gave him a flat glare of disgust. “I’m surprised I’m not an accessory to the fact, Mr. Tremain.” Dal rose and paced the study for a minute before meeting his gaze. “Let me get this straight. You want me for a guide in late May to find the location of the eggs or nestlings?”
“Yes.”
“And then what?”
“I’ll have the men who are at my disposal close in on the ring once we know they’re in the area. The eggs of most predators will be hatched by early June, making them prime for poaching. The eyesses are best caught just before they learn to fly. I think Gordon will start with the nests in the southern regions and work his way north with the warmer weather. And the Triple K is the farthest south of all the areas.”
Dal paced some more, explosive anger building within her. “I came to the Triple K for a long rest, Mr. Tremain. I don’t want to play tour guide. I don’t want to even think about that ex-husband of mine!” She halted, drawing herself up, her face mirroring her feelings. “Jack wouldn’t step on Triple K land. Rafe would kill him and he knows that.”
Jim spread his hands in a gesture of peace. “Look, I know this comes as a shock but—”
“I won’t do it, Mr. Tremain.”
He winced at the anguish in her voice. “I need your help, doctor. If I can’t enlist your aid, then the FBI is going to come barreling in here and take over. I don’t think your brother would like to get the law entangled in the daily running of his ranch. Right now, there’s calving and moving the herds to higher country for the summer. Do you want a bunch of three-piece-suited dudes from D.C. overrunning this place? I know they’ll botch the capture of the poachers because they’re unfamiliar with the terrain and methods that it will take to capture them. And they’ll also make a mess of things here.”
Dal glared at him, rubbing her temples with her fingers. “What are you talking about?”
“If you don’t agree to help me, they’re going to set up operations here at the Triple K. I persuaded the inspector to let me take on the task and see if I could get you to work with us. That way, your brother can go about his business of running his ranch and we’ll stay out from underfoot.”
“Either way, you’ll be here,” Dal said bitterly, crossing her arms.
Jim felt his heart wrench. The kind, soft-spoken Dal Kincaid he had seen a short while ago was gone. And he had caused the change. Now, she was defensive and hurting. Whatever trust he had briefly established with her was destroyed. “It’s better than the alternative, doctor.”
She wanted to scream. She wanted to sob. Oh, God! Jack, again. The man whom she had loved at one time and who had learned to love money more than her or their marriage. He had known how to manipulate her emotions until she had felt herself shredded by his razor-blade tactics. Dal knew she had to get hold of herself. She had to think clearly. Fairly. Lifting her head, she looked over at Jim Tremain.
“It’s stuffy in here. I want to go outside.”
“All right. Let’s go.”
The April sun was weak but welcome on her face as they crossed the muddy yard between the horse and cow barns. Dal led Jim to a pipe-fenced paddock and placed both elbows on the pipe. The breeze was inconstant, occasionally lifting strands of her hair across her jacketed shoulders. For no identifiable reason, Dal felt an island of momentary peace when Jim Tremain hitched up his foot onto the lowest pipe of the fence. Their elbows almost touched.
“I love coming out here,” she confided softly. The paddock contained four brood mares and their newborn foals.
Jim glanced at her. “The babies?”
She nodded, a tremulous smile lifting the corners of her mouth. “The babies,” she agreed. “When Rafe took over the operation of the Triple K eight years ago, he replaced the quarter horses with Arabians. They’re smaller, but they have more endurance and are as tough as the mustangs that cross our land.”
“They’re like you, then, doctor.”
Dal turned, perplexed by the intimate tone of his voice. She trembled beneath the smile that reached his clear brown eyes. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re as beautiful as they are and you have an inner core of endurance that will see you through.”
She laughed, but it was a hollow sound filled with pain. “Oh? And just where did you gain such insight, Mr. Tremain?”
His smile broadened as he held her confused gaze. “My mother. She was a full-blooded Navaho. She was the one who taught me to listen to my heart and not my head. Call it a sixth sense. I just feel that when the going gets rough, you’re there with commensurate strength to survive and become stronger because of the experience.”
Warmth flowed through Dal, dissolving the icy cold fist in the pit of her stomach. She stood beneath Jim’s gentle inspection, lost in the smoldering gold of his eyes, seeing much and unable to decipher all that he said with them. Dal felt breathless and tore her gaze from his, staring at the brood mares instead.
“Right now, Jim,” she said in a whisper, “I’m at the end of my rope emotionally. I won’t bore you with the travesty of my marriage to Jack Gordon. The past two years of hell have worn me down. I once thought I had a backbone of steel like the rest of the Kincaids, but I don’t. Not anymore. I’m raw. I can’t take too much emotionally or I’ll crack and I know it.”
She removed her elbows from the pipe and stood, hands buried deep in the pockets of her jacket as she looked up at him. The brim of his hat shaded his eyes and hid his reaction to her admission. “That’s why I’m here at the family ranch, Jim. I’m trying to patch myself together so I can go back out in the world and live again.”
Jim raised his hand, taking a strand of hair from her cheek and easing it behind her delicate ear. His voice was thick with emotion when he finally spoke. “If I told you I’d take care of you through this problem we’ve got with Gordon, would you believe me?”
Chapter Two
Hot scalding tears pricked the backs of Dal’s eyes as she stood looking up at Jim. His image blurred and she turned away, walking a few paces, her back to him.
Jim stared at her back, noting the way her shoulders were tensed and drawn up. He had watched her vulnerable eyes darken with a torture known only to herself and had seen her full, generous mouth draw into a line of anguish. What had happened in her marriage to tear her apart like this? Swallowing hard, he waited, his senses cautioning him that if he were to approach her too soon or try in some way to comfort her, she would turn on him. Trust, his senses screamed at him; she trusts no one. No man. He searched his memory for facts regarding Jack Gordon: he was an entrepreneur in the business of birds, capturing rare or colorful species from jungles around the world and selling them to zoos or private patrons. In those six years of marriage, had Gordon used Dal to sharpen his own education and utilized her knowledge to enhance his lucrative, international business?
Dal
