Nicole’s kidnapping, he grinned. “The next time these guys get close, we’ll catch them.”
Though the two men didn’t bump chests and exchange high fives, she felt the testosterone level in the room raise by several degrees. Deploying armed cowboys sounded like a shortcut on the road to disaster.
Chapter Six
The next morning after she showered and dressed, Carolyn went downstairs to the kitchen where Polly had four burners and a grill fired up. With the efficiency of a short-order cook, she assembled breakfast burritos and wrapped them in foil. “Good morning, Carolyn. Hungry?”
“All I want is coffee.”
Though she was trying hard not to show her agitation, her insides churned like a washing machine. She couldn’t stop thinking about the sabotage, the list of enemies and the million things she needed to do today. Most of all, she was concerned about Nicole.
“How are you holding up?” Polly asked.
“I’m worried.” Carolyn filled a mug from the coffee urn. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry I missed Thanksgiving.”
“It was quite a feast,” Polly said. “I even made that oyster dressing that Nicole likes so much. I don’t think anybody else took a bite of it.”
“Cowboys don’t eat sushi. Or anything that resembles it.” She sipped her mug, amazed that Polly could make gallons of coffee in an urn taste like custom brew. “How’s Juan doing?”
“My husband is full of energy this morning. He walkeddown to the bunkhouse. Using his cane, of course.” She paused her whirlwind of activity to pat Carolyn on the cheek. “We’ve all got to keep up our strength. Now, what can I get you to eat?”
Her stomach was far too tense to consider food. “Just coffee for now. But I’ll be back.”
Taking her mug, she went down the hall to the office, looking for Dylan or Burke. Instead, she found Lucas, Neville and the new kid, MacKenzie. They’d set up a whiteboard with some kind of schedule. One of Dylan’s detailed topographical maps was spread on the coffee table with chess pieces scattered across it.
MacKenzie jabbered into a walkie-talkie. His language was vaguely military, using terms like “Roger that” and “Bravo team” and “Boots on the ground.”
“What’s this?” she asked as she pointed to the whiteboard.
“A surveillance schedule,” Lucas explained. “We set up a perimeter. All these chess pieces on the map are different guys. Neville used to be in the Secret Service. He showed us how to maximize our security.”
Neville, the Longbridge security guard, gave a sheepish shrug. “As you can see on the hour-by-hour schedule, I’ve worked in downtime so the men can rest, but nobody wants to take a break.”
“Cowboys aren’t always good at following orders,” Carolyn said. “Too damned independent.”
“So I’ve learned,” Neville said.
Lucas chuckled. “I’ll tell you what, there ain’t going to be nobody taking potshots at this ranch house.”
Which still didn’t put them any closer to finding Nicole. She turned to MacKenzie. With his brown hair flopping over his forehead and freckles across his nose, he looked about twelve years old. “Where did you get the walkie-talkie?”
“I found them,” Lucas said. “Remember a few years back, before everybody got cell phones, we tried using these things. Didn’t work too good.”
She remembered. Several of the walkie-talkies got lost or thrown away, mostly because the men didn’t like having somebody check up on them. Consensus among the ranch hands had been that the old ways of communication were the best. Everybody had cell phones now, which were mostly kept turned off unless a cowboy on the range wanted to make a date with his honey in Riverdale.
MacKenzie obviously enjoyed this opportunity to play G.I. Joe. He turned away from her and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Listen up, y’all. HQ is awake and on the move.”
Amused, Carolyn asked, “What does that mean? HQ?”
“We gave
Though the two men didn’t bump chests and exchange high fives, she felt the testosterone level in the room raise by several degrees. Deploying armed cowboys sounded like a shortcut on the road to disaster.
Chapter Six
The next morning after she showered and dressed, Carolyn went downstairs to the kitchen where Polly had four burners and a grill fired up. With the efficiency of a short-order cook, she assembled breakfast burritos and wrapped them in foil. “Good morning, Carolyn. Hungry?”
“All I want is coffee.”
Though she was trying hard not to show her agitation, her insides churned like a washing machine. She couldn’t stop thinking about the sabotage, the list of enemies and the million things she needed to do today. Most of all, she was concerned about Nicole.
“How are you holding up?” Polly asked.
“I’m worried.” Carolyn filled a mug from the coffee urn. “I’ve been meaning to tell you that I’m sorry I missed Thanksgiving.”
“It was quite a feast,” Polly said. “I even made that oyster dressing that Nicole likes so much. I don’t think anybody else took a bite of it.”
“Cowboys don’t eat sushi. Or anything that resembles it.” She sipped her mug, amazed that Polly could make gallons of coffee in an urn taste like custom brew. “How’s Juan doing?”
“My husband is full of energy this morning. He walkeddown to the bunkhouse. Using his cane, of course.” She paused her whirlwind of activity to pat Carolyn on the cheek. “We’ve all got to keep up our strength. Now, what can I get you to eat?”
Her stomach was far too tense to consider food. “Just coffee for now. But I’ll be back.”
Taking her mug, she went down the hall to the office, looking for Dylan or Burke. Instead, she found Lucas, Neville and the new kid, MacKenzie. They’d set up a whiteboard with some kind of schedule. One of Dylan’s detailed topographical maps was spread on the coffee table with chess pieces scattered across it.
MacKenzie jabbered into a walkie-talkie. His language was vaguely military, using terms like “Roger that” and “Bravo team” and “Boots on the ground.”
“What’s this?” she asked as she pointed to the whiteboard.
“A surveillance schedule,” Lucas explained. “We set up a perimeter. All these chess pieces on the map are different guys. Neville used to be in the Secret Service. He showed us how to maximize our security.”
Neville, the Longbridge security guard, gave a sheepish shrug. “As you can see on the hour-by-hour schedule, I’ve worked in downtime so the men can rest, but nobody wants to take a break.”
“Cowboys aren’t always good at following orders,” Carolyn said. “Too damned independent.”
“So I’ve learned,” Neville said.
Lucas chuckled. “I’ll tell you what, there ain’t going to be nobody taking potshots at this ranch house.”
Which still didn’t put them any closer to finding Nicole. She turned to MacKenzie. With his brown hair flopping over his forehead and freckles across his nose, he looked about twelve years old. “Where did you get the walkie-talkie?”
“I found them,” Lucas said. “Remember a few years back, before everybody got cell phones, we tried using these things. Didn’t work too good.”
She remembered. Several of the walkie-talkies got lost or thrown away, mostly because the men didn’t like having somebody check up on them. Consensus among the ranch hands had been that the old ways of communication were the best. Everybody had cell phones now, which were mostly kept turned off unless a cowboy on the range wanted to make a date with his honey in Riverdale.
MacKenzie obviously enjoyed this opportunity to play G.I. Joe. He turned away from her and spoke into his walkie-talkie. “Listen up, y’all. HQ is awake and on the move.”
Amused, Carolyn asked, “What does that mean? HQ?”
“We gave
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