bet you hunt.”
“Sure do. Animals, too,” he added enigmatically.
She caught her breath as the hacienda-style ranch house came into view. It was enormous, most assuredly a mansion with no excuses or apologies. There were electronic gates made of black wrought iron and everything else was thick, sand-colored adobe. It was mid-November, so nothing was blooming, but Joceline saw dozens of trees lining the long driveway and dotted around the Spanish patio with its big fountain. There was a stone floor on the patio and when she looked up, she was surprised to see a man with a high-powered rifle on the balcony upstairs.
“Sharpshooter,” the cowboy told her. “We have three who work shifts. Used to be just one, randomly up there, but since the boss got shot, we’re more cautious.”
“Not a bad idea,” she agreed.
“You’ll be safe here, Ms. Perry,” he told her gently. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all,” he added, jerking his eyes toward the oblivious child in the backseat. “You’ll both be safe.”
She smiled. “Thanks.”
He parked at the door, where the semicircular driveway flanked another large, working fountain. He got out and came around to help Joceline and Markie out of the SUV.
“Look at the fountain!” Markie exclaimed, running to perch himself on the stone bench. “And it’s got fish! Goldfish!”
“Chinese goldfish,” the cowboy told him with a smile. “There’s a big Japanese koi pond out back with enormous fish of all sorts of colors. There’s even a yellow one with blue eyes.”
“Can I see?” Markie exclaimed.
“Not right now,” Joceline said firmly. “First we go see the boss and get settled in our room,” she added.
“Come along, young feller,” the old cowboy told him with a grin as he picked up the luggage and carried it through the open wrought-iron gate.
“It’s so pretty!” Markie enthused. “Look at all the trees! We don’t got even one tree at our apartment!”
“Don’t have,” Joceline corrected automatically.
“There’s a doggie!” he exclaimed, and started running toward an enormous, black-faced German shepherd dog.
“Markie, no!” Joceline almost screamed. “Don’t …!”
“Dieter, freund!” the cowboy called in fluent German. “Ja, Ja, freund. Das ist ein braver hund!”
Joceline spared him a shocked glance before she rushed to Markie’s side.
But the dog wasn’t hostile. On the contrary, he went right up to Markie with a slow, loping gait, and sat down just in front of him, leaning forward so that the child could pet him.
“He loves kids,” the cowboy told her. “Dieter is an old man, like me,” he added on a chuckle. “He came over from Germany. Notice his hocks. They almost touch the ground. American-bred German shepherds’ hind legs are joined higher up.”
She did notice. The dog’s build kept him very close to the ground. He was beautiful, with a thick shiny black coat and pale brown markings. He seemed very happy to sit and let Markie hug and pet him.
“You speak German to him,” Joceline said, curious.
“Yes. All our dogs are trained to respond to it.” He didn’t add that there was a secret attack command in German known only to the handler and a few of the most trusted cowboys. The code was never to be used unless in the gravest of emergencies. Activated, the dogs were quite capable of attacking and bringing down a human intruder. Considering Jon’s line of work, not to mention his brother’s, they couldn’t take chances. At least once, a would-be killer had tried to force his way in. He’d been taken off to jail, with a stop by the local hospital to stitch his wounds.
“What if an intruder also spoke German?” she wondered.
“They’d ignore him. They respond to our voices.”
She shook her head. “I can’t believe he’s that tolerant.”
He smiled. “Considering their size and strength, it would be insane not to have them gentle around family and friends.”
“I totally agree.”
“Come on inside.”
He led them through the house. Markie protested until the dog, Dieter, was allowed to come inside, as well. He walked right beside Markie, as if an attachment had already been formed there.
“My goodness,” Joceline exclaimed, noticing the dog’s actions.
“He likes you,” the old cowboy told Markie with a grin.
“I like him, too. He’s cool!” Markie said excitedly, petting the dog’s head.
The inside of the house was open and dotted with comfortable chairs and plants and paintings. The color scheme was mostly shades of tan and brown, with some green and even a little gold in the upholstery and curtains. There was a huge stone fireplace, in which a fire was already roaring. It was cold.
“They got a fireplace!” Markie exclaimed. “Can I go sit by it?”
“Not without me,” Joceline said firmly. “Come on, sport, let’s get our bags unpacked before we worry people to death trying to explore, okay?”
Markie sighed. “Okay.”
The old cowboy’s blue eyes twinkled. He led them into a room the size of Joceline’s whole apartment.
“This is the main guest suite,” he told her. “There’s a smaller room through the bathroom, if you want the boy to have his own, but there are two king-size beds in here.”
Joceline was still gaping. “My whole apartment would fit in here,” she murmured.
He laughed out loud. “So would my cabin,” he told her. “But I like cozy places. You might say I’ve grown accustomed to them over the years,” he added enigmatically.
She smiled as he put the bags down. “Thanks for bringing us here.”
“Oh, I enjoyed it.” He looked at Markie wistfully. “Nice to have a kid around the place again.”
She frowned. “Again?”
“Kilraven’s little girl spent some time here.” His face went hard. “There’s gossip that one of the shooters weaseled out of being charged with her death—the one that shot the boss and threatened you. He won’t get in here, and he won’t get away if I find out the rumor is true. I know people all over who could put a stick in his spokes. She was a precious little child—” He broke off and turned away. Just for a few seconds, the expression in his eyes had been frightening.
“The boss’s room is two doors down, that way,” he added when he was in the hall, pointing in the direction. “He’s expecting you.” He smiled. “Nice to have you here, ma’am.
