Sealed with strength, p.1
Sealed with Strength, page 1
Sealed with Strength
A Christian Romantic Suspense
Laura Scott
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Chapter One
Sylvie McLane tugged her cowboy hat down on her head as she led her favorite mare, Fanny along the north ridge of the McLane Mountain Ranch. After her father’s cancer diagnosis, she’d taken over running the ranch which had grown over the thirty-eight years her father had owned it. McLane Mountain was one of the most prosperous ranches in the area, and she was proud of what she and her dad had accomplished.
Now she needed to keep it going. No small feat in lean times of falling beef prices, not to mention the fact that most of the cowboys working for her chafed at taking orders from a woman. As if she hadn’t learned anything in the past thirty-five years she’d lived and worked the ranch.
They’d just have to get over it. She preferred raising and training horses but wouldn’t allow that to hold her back from taking over all aspects of the ranch. It was clear her younger brother, Sean wasn’t going to be much help.
“Whoa, girl,” she murmured, tugging slightly on Fanny’s reins to halt their progress. This spot offered the best view of the entire ranch, all fifteen hundred acres of it. The impressive sight never ceased to amaze her.
The gunshot came out of nowhere. Fanny shied, rising on her hind legs and pawing the air with her front hooves. Sylvie clenched her knees to stay seated, but Fanny turned so abruptly, she felt herself losing her grip. Then Fanny rose again, throwing Sylvie off before bolting into the woods.
She hit the ground hard and rolled toward the edge of the ridge. Digging her hands into the earth she tried to halt her momentum, but gravity pulled her toward the drop off. She managed to find a tree root and clung to it with all the strength she possessed.
It was enough to stop her freefall. Yet her lower legs dangled over the edge. Using her toes, she tried to push against the cliff wall to lever herself up. It didn’t work. If anything she slipped another inche lower. Now more of her body was over the edge, than not. The muscles in her arms quivered with exertion.
No! She couldn’t die here today!
Sylvie swallowed hard and tried again to pull herself up. She was accustomed to physical labor but couldn’t seem to get a good enough grip on the root. The flash of panic was impossible to ignore. How much longer could she hang here like a trout dangling from a line?
Not long.
Strong male hands clamped around one wrist, then the other. “I’ve got you.”
Dawson Steele’s face loomed over her, his features partially shadowed by the wide brim of his black cowboy hat. His blue eyes were full of concern as he held her. Normally she’d be upset by his trespassing on her land. But when he began pulling her upright, she was keenly grateful for his strength.
Inch by inch he pulled her up over the edge of the ridge. When she was mostly on solid ground, she was able to help by using her knees to scramble the rest of the way. Finally, Dawson let her go, and rolled over onto his back, his hands pressing against his abdomen. A large yellow lab with adorably floppy ears, came over to sniff at him, then licked his face.
“Thank you.” She frowned when Dawson seemed to be battling pain. “Hey, are you alright?”
“Yeah.” The strain in his voice indicated otherwise. “Just need a minute.”
She tried not to read too much into his comment, yet knew she was sturdy and weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds. No lightweight, that was for sure. Dawson had obviously hurt himself pulling her to safety. Maybe she needed to cut back on the carbs.
Finally, he pushed himself into a sitting position. He looped his arm around his dog, then glanced at her. “I had several abdominal surgeries over the past few months. The muscles are still tender, especially when I go overboard using them.”
Abdominal surgeries, plural? “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“How could you?” Dawson’s tone held an edge. He stood and held out his hand to her. She accepted his help, trying to ignore the weird attraction she felt toward him. After twenty years of not seeing the guy while he served their country as a Navy SEAL, the past few months he’d popped in and out of her life several times.
It really annoyed her.
“Good thing that shooter didn’t make his jack,” Dawson drawled. She wanted to roll his eyes at his old western phrase of indicating the shooter had missed his mark. His tone was light, but his gaze was serious. “Any idea who set you in their sights?”
“I hope it wasn’t you,” she said tartly. “Why are you here, anyway?”
He shook his head. “Still as prickly as ever, Sylvie. Why would I shoot you, then rush over to save your life? I was on Copper Creek property when I heard the gunfire. Saw you get busted off your horse, so I rode Diamond to get here as soon as I could. Thankfully, Kilo was able to keep up.”
She glanced from his dog, Kilo to Diamond, the gelding standing near a tree a few yards away. She flushed and nodded. It had been a long time since she’d been busted off a horse, that was for sure. “You’re right, you did save my life. If you hadn’t grabbed my arms…” she didn’t finish the thought.
A shiver rippled down her spine as realization dawned slowly. Someone had just tried to kill her.
“I believe the gunfire came from the west,” Dawson said. “Let’s hop on Diamond and search for your horse.”
“I might weigh too much for Diamond to carry us both,” she protested.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a lightweight.” Dawson swung himself up into the saddle, a slight grimace creasing his features. Then he held out his hand.
She accepted his grip, then stepped up on his boot to swing herself up behind him. The saddle made riding together uncomfortable. She did her best to ignore being plastered up against Dawson. Hopefully, Fanny hadn’t gone too far. The mare was known to be sure footed which is why she’d chosen her to ride the mountainside.
The gunfire had been close. Way too close. June wasn’t hunting season, so it had to have been deliberate.
Who taken the shot?
The why was obvious. Someone wanted to take the McLane Mountain Ranch, now that her father was officially retired from ranching. Sylvie didn’t want to believe her brother Sean had done this. Or her father’s long time ranch foreman, Josh O’Leary.
She wouldn’t put it past her ex-husband, Paul Griffin to try something like this. But she’d heard he’d moved to Boulder, Colorado.
“Sylvie? Is that your horse?” Dawson gestured to the wooded area up ahead.
She peered over Dawson’s broad shoulder. “Yes, that’s Fanny.”
“Good looking mare,” he drawled.
“She’s the best mountain trail horse I have.” Normally, Fanny didn’t startle easily, much less toss her rider. “The gunshot was too close and done purposefully to spook her.”
“Yeah, it was.” He turned Diamond toward Fanny. The horses nickered a greeting to each other, making Sylvie smile, despite her near fatal fall from the cliff. “Any idea who would want you to eat dirt?”
“Unfortunately, there are several possibilities.” She slid off Diamond’s back. “Thanks again, Dawson.”
“I’ll escort you back to the ranch house.”
She bent down to pat Kilo, then went over to grab Fanny’s reins. She took a moment to physically examine the mare, making sure the animal wasn’t hurt in any way. There were no obvious signs of injury, so she vaulted into the saddle and turned the mare toward Dawson. “I’m not going back, I need to ride the property. Thanks again.”
“Hold on, Sylvie,” Dawson protested. “You can’t just pretend someone didn’t take a shot at you.”
“I’m not going to let that person prevent me from doing what’s necessary.” She was irritated with Dawson, partially because deep down she wanted nothing more than to head back to the ranch as he’d suggested. Every muscle in her body ached from the fall and the idea of a long hot bath tempted her beyond reason.
“Why not use your chopper to patrol the property?” Dawson asked. “You can’t make the entire 1500 acres on horseback in a day.”
“I’m well aware of the best way to patrol my ranch, but the chopper needs a new fuel gauge. Besides, my plan today was to ride the north ridge, not the entire property line.”
Dawson let out an audible sigh. “Okay, lead the way.”
“You don’t have to come with me.”
“I’m well aware of what I don’t need to do,” he said, parroting her words. “But this is serious, Sylvie. You could have died today.”
“I know. I’ll call the Beaverhead County Sheriff’s office when I get back.” She urged Fanny toward the trail.
“You must have some idea of who would do something like this,” Dawson pressed as he fell behind her. The trail wasn’t wide enough for them to ride side by side.
“Funny you mention that, Dawson, because your ranch stands to benefit if something happens to me. Sean has made it clear he’d love nothing more than to sell McLane Mountain to your father, or the next highest bidder. He wants to take the money and run.”
“My old man can’t a fford to buy you out,” Dawson said firmly. “I know our respective fathers have given each other the right of first refusal to buy the other’s ranch when the time comes, but that doesn’t mean zip if you don’t have cash to cover the purchase. The Copper Creek Ranch is half the size of yours. If anyone would be the target, it would be you coming after me.”
“I’d never do something like that.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. He looked good, too good. He was leaner than she remembered, but his recent surgeries likely played a role in that. Yet he still had the looks and the swagger she remembered. His dark hair was mostly covered by his cowboy hat, but his features were tan and rugged.
That stupid agreement their fathers had agreed to thirty-eight years ago provided the motive for Dawson to shoot at her.
Instead, he’d saved her life.
Even more irksome than knowing someone else wanted her dead was the knowledge that she owed Dawson for what he’d done.
And Sylvie McLane always paid her debts.
The woman was driving him insane. Dawson had planned a nice leisurely ride, until the gunfire had rung out, far closer than he’d liked. Diamond had reared at the sound, too but he’d managed to remain seated, despite the pull on his abdominal muscles. But then Sylvie had hit the ground, rolling toward the edge of the mountain.
Was it too much to ask that she head back to the ranch to be safe?
He’d interacted with several tough women in the military, each of them could certainly hold their own in a male dominated environment. Sylvie could too, but ironically the military was more progressive than the wild west. Sylvie carried a large chip on her shoulder, likely related to the macho cowboys who felt as if a woman’s place was in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant.
He tried not to imagine Sylvie in his kitchen, perhaps barefoot and round with child. He wryly shook his head. She’d punch him in the nose for even thinking about it.
Their fathers had been close, but he and Sylvie hadn’t seen that much of each other, she’d been home schooled so that she could work the ranch. There were town gatherings where they’d run into each other, but they’d also kept busy with their respective ranch chores. Truth be told, twenty years ago, his main focus had been to graduate and join the military.
His dad has been disappointed but remained proud of what Dawson had accomplished. Not everyone made it through the rigorous BUDS training to become a Navy SEAL. And now that Dawson was back home, his father made it clear he wanted to hand the ranch over to him.
A gift he didn’t really want.
“There’s a creek up ahead, we can stop there to water the horses,” Sylvie said.
“Okay.” There was no doubt in his mind she knew the mountain terrain better than he did. The hour was pushing noon, and his stomach rumbled with hunger.
The three surgeries to remove shrapnel had done a number on his overall strength and agility. Four months since the last surgery and he still didn’t feel anywhere near one hundred percent.
His SEAL team had run their last mission back in December. They’d successfully taken out their terrorist target, but the extraction had been a cluster. The underwater bomb that had been detonated while they were swimming to their extraction boat, had killed their teammate, Jaydon Rampart.
The rest of the team had all sustained injuries of some sort, but they’d survived. Their Senior Chief, Mason Gray had lost his hearing in one ear and suffered partial hearing loss in the other. Kaleb had completely blown out his knee, Hudd had lost vision in one eye and suffered a head injury that still plagued him. Dallas had taken shrapnel to his shoulder, while Nico had suffered a rupture of his Achilles tendon. In comparison Dawson’s abdominal injuries weren’t that bad.
Yet he hated feeling weak and helpless. Pulling Sylvie up from where she’d dangled off the edge of the mountain had sent ripples of pain through his damaged muscles. Well worth it to save a life.
Which brought him back to the question of who would want Sylvie dead?
“You said there were too many to count.” He pulled Diamond up beside her mare, and slid out of the saddle. He bent to rub Kilo’s fur, feeling bad for dragging the lab further than intended.
He’d been about to turn back to the house when the gunshot had gone off.
“Your dad, your foreman, Max Wolfe, my foreman Josh O’Leary, my brother, oh and possibly my ex-husband.” She led Fanny by the reins toward the creek. “Is that enough for you?”
“My dad isn’t part of this, Sylvie.” It ticked him off that she’d even considered his old man a threat. “He wants me to take over the Copper Creek ranch. No way does he want the responsibility of yours, too.”
“Okay, fine. One less possible threat, then.” She sighed, then added, “I’m sorry. I’m being grumpy over something that isn’t your fault.”
“At least you got that right,” he muttered. He swept off his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’d feel better if you headed back to the homestead. This guy could be watching us through a rifle scope right now.”
“I know, Dawson. But he could do that tomorrow, or the next day, too.” She led Fanny away after the horse had finished drinking from the stream. He did the same with Diamond, while Kilo drank some water, then stretched out on the grass, content to rest. “What am I supposed to do? Hire a bodyguard?”
It was on the tip of his tongue to offer to take on that role, then remembered he needed to help run his father’s ranch. Not that Max Wolfe, their foreman wasn’t perfectly capable of doing most of the work. Max had done all that and more while Dawson had been in the Navy. Yet Sylvie’s comment had him wondering about the guy.
Why would the foreman of the Copper Creek Ranch want to harm Sylvie? The only way that made sense was if Wolfe thought he would be next in line to take over his father’s ranch, if Dawson decided to leave.
Had Wolfe learned of his conversations with his father?
Even if he had, why would the foreman want a second, much bigger ranch? The Cooper Creek was doing well, no reason to want more. Nah, the more he thought about it, the more he couldn’t see the logic.
“I can help protect you as often as possible,” he said. “I know we’re both busy helping our fathers, but I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She glanced at him in surprise. “I didn’t realize you were taking over for your dad.”
“I’m helping him out, temporarily.” He wished the ranch wasn’t hanging like a yoke around his neck. “He fell and broke his hip a few months back. He’s actually recovering fairly well, but he can’t ride, yet.”
“Yeah, I know, your father and mine have been commiserating about their medical issues.” Sylvie frowned. “It’s tough, for both of them. I love riding, it’s the best part of owning a ranch.”
“Me, too.” Riding horseback was something he enjoyed, although he’d liked being in the water, too. Which was why he wasn’t thrilled about possibly sticking around in Montana, miles from the ocean. “We need to head back. I can’t help feeling vulnerable out here without any indication of where the threat is coming from.”
“Fine, we can head back, but I’d like to take a less traveled path to avoid being seen.” She eyed him thoughtfully. “Are you hungry? I have two sandwiches and am happy to share.”
“Ah, sure.” He was touched by her offer. For once, Sylvie was attempting to be nice. “Thanks.”
They sat on the ground across from each other. Kilo came over to curl up next to his side. Dawson stroked the dog as he ate.
“It’s been an uphill battle since my dad’s cancer diagnosis,” Sylvie said. “I’ve taken over all the work, but the guys treat me like I’m some sort of imposter who knows nothing about ranching.”
“Because they’re cowboys.” He waved his hand. “They’re not really dissing you, Sylvie, it’s just that they’re used to taking orders from your father or Josh.” He paused then asked, “Why did you list your ex-husband as a possible suspect?”
Her cheeks went pink and she didn’t answer for a long moment. “Mostly because he’d go after the ranch out of revenge. The marriage wasn’t working, he didn’t like it that I was so involved in running the ranch.”
