No. What if Conner had simply gone into town without telling her? He didn’t exactly give her a detailed rundown of his activities. But she’d checked the vehicles. Those she recognized were still in the drive. Could he have caught a ride with Roy and the others and forgotten to tell her?
She hated the thought that he might have joined the hands at the Honky Tonk instead of spending time with her, hated the thought of him drinking and dancing while she paced a hole in the carpet. But that was the most likely explanation, which meant she shouldn’t bother the police.
Pivoting at the end of the Navajo-style rug that covered the hardwood floor, she rubbed her arms to ward off the chill settling deep in her bones and told herself that her husband would come strolling in any second.
But he didn’t. The minutes continued to tick by. Finally Delaney called Directory Assistance to get the Honky Tonk’s phone number, and dialed the bar.
“’Lo?” A gruff male voice answered. It had to be Bear, the weekend bartender. Music blared in the background, partially drowned out by raucous laughter and voices.
“Bear?”
“Yeah, who’s this?”
“Delaney Armstrong. Is my husband there?”
“Haven’t seen him, but hang on, let me check.” He covered the receiver, but Delaney could still hear him when he shouted “Conner Armstrong here?”
“Sorry. No one answers to that name,” he said after a few seconds.
“Can I talk to Roy, then?”
“Roy White?”
“Yeah.”
“Just a minute.”
Another music-filled pause and then Roy came on the line.
“Roy? It’s Delaney.”
“Something wrong?”
“I’m looking for Conner,” she said. “He never came home tonight.”
“He didn’t?”
The surprise in Roy’s voice heightened Delaney’s anxiety. “I thought maybe he went to the Honky Tonk with you,” she said.
“No, we left him near the south pass. He was going to check on some cattle that came up missing. But that shouldn’t have taken him more than an hour.”
“What do you think happened?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll be right there.”
“Should I call the police?”
“No, I’ll take a flashlight and go out and look for him. I’m sure he’s fine.”
The phone clicked and Roy was gone, leaving Delaney even more worried. The concern in his voice had belied his words. Conner could be hurt. He might need help….
Delaney couldn’t bear to waste another second. Scribbling a quick message for Roy, she tacked it on the front door, grabbed a lightweight sweater and slipped out the back. She’d go after Conner herself.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CONNER WAS EXHAUSTED. Stamping the mud off his boots at the back door, he stepped into the house to find a light burning and his dinner waiting for him in the refrigerator.
“Thank you, Dottie,” he murmured, sliding his plate into the microwave. The smell of steak, potatoes, peas and garlic bread soon filled the kitchen and made his stomach growl, but he was almost too anxious to wait for his food to heat. This time of night, Delaney would be asleep, curled up on her side, all soft and womanly with her small round belly, and he couldn’t wait to slip into bed with her. Somehow, when he held her in the dark, all the worries that came with the light of day—the frustration, the anxieties, even the past—seemed to disappear….
The telephone rang just as the microwave buzzer went off. Conner grabbed the receiver to keep the noise from waking Delaney, then pressed it to his ear as he retrieved his plate. Who the heck would be calling at nearly one o’clock in the morning? he wondered.
“Hello?”
“Conner?”
“Rebecca?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Thank God you’re home. When did you get back?”
“Just a few minutes ago. Why?”
“You don’t normally come home so late.”
“I went up on the mountain to look for a few calves that were missing. I didn’t think it would be difficult to find them, but one had fallen down a gorge and it took me quite a while to get it out.”
“Delaney left five messages on my answering machine while I was out tonight. She was afraid something had happened to you.”
“I’m fine.”
“That’s good. Tell her I’ll call her in the morning, then.”
“Just a minute,” he said, carrying the phone as he hurried along the hall. If Delaney had been upset, had she calmed down enough to sleep? Because she certainly wasn’t up and around.
The door to their bedroom stood slightly ajar. Conner pushed it open the rest of the way, hoping he’d find his wife safely asleep. But he didn’t even need to turn on the light to know Delaney wasn’t there. The same full moon that had been his salvation out on the range illuminated a bed still perfectly made.
“She’s not here,” he told Rebecca. “Where could she be?”
“What do you mean she’s not there? Every message said to call her at the ranch.”
Conner kept the phone to his ear but ignored everything Rebecca said as he jogged through the house, calling Delaney’s name. He’d thought there might be a chance she’d become frustrated with his tardiness and gone to sleep in her old room or on a couch. But only darkness and silence greeted him.
“Where would she go if she was angry with me? Would she go back to Aunt Millie’s?” he asked, but something niggled, telling him he was missing an important detail. Had all the horses been in the barn when he’d put Trigger away? He’d been so tired he hadn’t even noticed. Someone, probably Roy, had already put some hay out for Trigger, and he’d simply removed the saddle and bridle and turned the horse into his stall before flipping off the light and heading wearily to the house.
“I don’t think she was angry with you,” Rebecca was saying. “She was worried. I’m angry with you, but that’s a different story.”
Conner didn’t know what Rebecca was talking about, and right now, he didn’t care. “Delaney?” he called again, but every room he checked was empty. He hurried to the front door to see if all the cars were still in the drive, and they were.
Just as he turned around to go and check the barn, he found a yellow piece of crumpled paper lying on the floor. Picking it up, he ironed it out to see his wife’s handwriting.