The Cowboy

booze.
    "You sober enough to get behind the wheel, Hatcher?" he asked bluntly as the two men stood isolated on one side of the front drive.
    "I'm fine," Hatcher muttered. "Haven't had anything but soda for the past couple of hours. Just wanted to tell you I left the Ellington file in your study. You'd better take a look at it as soon as possible."
    Rafe eyed him. "Something new come up?"
    Hatcher nodded, his eyes sliding away to follow the last car out of the drive. "Today. I've updated the file so you can take a look for yourself. I didn't want to say anything before the party. Seemed a shame to ruin it for you."
    "Since when have I ever asked you to shield me from bad news? That's not what I pay you to do and you know it."
    Hatcher's jaw tightened. "I know, but this is different, Rafe."
    "What am I going to be looking at when I open the file?"
    Hatcher hesitated. "The possibility that we've got a leak."
    "Damn it to hell. You sure?"
    "No, not entirely. Could be a coincidence that Moorcroft came up with the numbers he did today, but we've got to look at the other possibility."
    "Someone gave him the information."
    "Maybe."
    "Yeah, maybe." Rafe watched the last set of taillights disappear down his long drive. "I thought we had this airtight, Hatcher."
    "I thought we did, too."
    "When I find out who's selling me out, I'll do a little bloodletting. Hope whoever it is realizes what he's risking."
    "We don't know for sure yet, Rafe," Hatcher said quickly. "It really could be a genuine coincidence. But regardless of how it happened, there's no getting around the fact that we've got to counter Moorcroft's last move and fast. Thought you'd want to run the numbers yourself."
    "I'll do it tonight and have an answer in the morning. Nothing gets in the way of this Ellington thing, understand? It has to go through on schedule."
    "Right, well, guess I'd better be off." Hatcher nodded once more and dug his keys out of his pocket. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."
    Rafe stood for a while in the balmy darkness watching Hatcher's car vanish in the distance.
    Vengeance was a curious thing, he acknowledged. It had the same ability to obsess a man's soul as love did.
    "Rafe?"
    He turned toward the sound of Maggie's soft, questioning voice. She looked so beautiful standing there in the doorway with the lights of the house behind her. His beautiful, proud Maggie. He needed her more than the desert needed the fierce storms of late summer. Without her, he was an empty man.
    And if she ever realized what he was going to do to Moorcroft, she'd be furious. There was even a possibility she'd try to run from him again. He had to be careful, Rafe told himself. This was between him and Moorcroft, anyway. A little matter of vengeance and honor that had to be settled properly.
    "I'm coming, Maggie, love." He started toward the doorway. "Mom and Dad still out waltzing by the pool?"
    Margaret laughed. "Without a band? No, I think they gave up the waltzing in favor of getting some sleep before leaving for Sedona in the morning."
    "Not a bad idea," Rafe said.
    "What?"
    "Sleep. I could use some myself and so could you. Good night, Maggie, love." He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
    Forty minutes later he watched from the other side of the patio as Margaret's light went out. For a short time he toyed with the idea of going to her room.
    But the file waiting in his office was too important to ignore. He'd told Hatcher he'd have an answer by tomorrow morning.

7
    « ^ »
    M argaret found sleep impossible. She tossed and turned, listening to the small night sounds that drifted through her window. Her mind was not cluttered with the bright images of the successful party or thoughts of her father and his new love. She wasn't thinking about any of the many things that could have been keeping her awake.
    All she could think about was Julie Cassidy's remark concerning Rafe having overcome his hawklike pride in order to find a way to get Margaret back.
    The notion of Rafe Cassidy lowering his pride for a woman was literally stunning.
    Margaret stared up at the ceiling and realized she had never considered the events of the past few days in those terms. She had felt manipulated at first and there was no denying that to a great extent she had been.
    But what had it cost Rafe to admit to himself and everyone else that he wanted her back?
    She thought of all the times during those first few months after the disaster when she had almost picked up the phone and