Читать книгу Red Thunder Reckoning - Sylvie Kurtz - Страница 13

The hum hit him first, deep in his gut. Recognition slapped him next. Shock rooted him.

“Ellen,” Kevin whispered.

Of all the things he’d expected to find in Gabenburg, she had never even entered his mind. If he hadn’t been holding on to the doorknob to the sheriff’s office, the blow of seeing her standing there might have knocked him over.

What was she doing so far from home? Her roots were planted so deeply in Ashbrook that she hadn’t understood his need to catch a ride on the wind before settling. What had caused her to leave the land where she’d seeded her dreams?

He swallowed hard and stared at her narrow back. The hum in his gut whirred until it burned, then spread until he was wound so tight his fingers dented the wood on the doorjamb.

She still wore her hair in a loose French braid that tickled the bottom of her shoulder blades. Light still played with the gold, making it shimmer with her every move. Errant strands still framed her face with corkscrews of curls. His index finger twitched with an ache to wrap itself around one of those golden curls.

When she turned, her gray-green eyes reflected every emotion coursing through her. A sharp gnaw of hunger champed through him as he remembered the sizzle of energy her emotion-filled body could transmit.

Even after all those years, she still had the power to knock him off balance just by being there.

He’d prepared himself to handle his brother. He’d prepared himself to take whatever punishment was his due. But seeing Ellen scrambled his mind, undid his purpose.

He needed to think. But he couldn’t drag his gaze from the woman he’d once wanted with such a fierce passion he hadn’t been able to see straight.

A flood of regret, of need, of pain surged through him in a tidal wave. Anger and desire roiled like the Red Thunder’s water, churning forgotten silt to the surface. The part of his memory he hadn’t dared to look at in years whirled through his mind like a ruthless hurricane. Then longing settled over him and sank, drowning him in a pool of sorrow so deep he could barely breathe.

He remembered her laughter, brook bubbly and wind-chime light. He remembered her tears, salty and warm. He remembered her love, tender and sweet. Worst of all, he remembered the way he’d refused to listen to her fears about his leaving for the summer, believing that if he did, they’d cage him.

Through the swell of his memories, the conversation between Ellen and the sheriff floated up. What he heard made his stomach curdle.

Before Kevin could quite recover his mental balance, Ellen spun on her heels, wobbled and strode toward the door. As he started to retreat, the door blew open. The edge caught his shoulder, loosing an oomph of discomfort from him. The Australian cattle dog at his side cowered against the outside wall. Muttering under her breath, Ellen plowed past them without a glance.

Shifting his gaze from Ellen to his brother, Kevin was torn. Should he face Kent or go after Ellen?

With the sheriff busy answering a call, Kevin slipped away before anyone noticed him. He needed time to think.

Cap bill pulled down low, chin bent nearly to his chest, hands thrust deep into his jeans pockets, he started walking. The dog, Blue, slanted him a worried glance, but kept pace.

There wasn’t much to Gabenburg. The town was neat and compact and held an old-fashioned appeal. The bakery, the general store, the feed store all bore the pride of ownership. No litter dirtied the main street. Pots of geraniums, planters of impatiens and borders of red-veined caladium splashed the storefronts with color. Judging by the friendly hellos bouncing back and forth, everyone knew everybody.

Ellen, she was here.

An unexpected tightness banded his chest. He shrugged it off as uneasiness. Not caused by Ellen. He’d made peace with his undying desire for her long ago. Cities, towns, even villages, had a way of making him feel hemmed in. That was it. He longed for Nina’s ranch, for the mountains of Colorado with their green pastures and crisp air.

Spotting the river, Kevin veered toward it. He needed space, he decided, and time to revise his plan. Blue dutifully followed him.

Far from being the gift of absolution Kevin had imagined, his visit to Gabenburg was plunging him back in the thick of his nightmare. Ellen, Kent, anger, so much anger. He palmed the bone feather Nina had given him and worried the carved ridges with his thumb.

All he’d wanted to do was fulfill his promise to Nina. A day, maybe two, then he’d get back to training the horses waiting for him. He wasn’t expecting Kent to receive him with open arms or to forgive him. More likely his brother would just send him packing—and have every right to.

But Ellen complicated things.

He closed his eyes against the picture forming in his mind. The last time he’d seen her, he’d hauled her out of the Red Thunder. A gash had scored her temple, winding threads of blood through her hair, leaving her rag-doll limp in his arms. More than anything, he’d wanted to stay with her. But Kent couldn’t swim. He’d had no choice. He’d had to go after his brother.

Fifteen years of near vegetation. How could one small cut have caused so much damage?

His thoughts jumbled into a snarl of anger so potent, he could feel his blood start to boil. He dragged in a breath and forced himself to focus on the heat of the noontime sun beating down on him.

Summer wouldn’t arrive for another two weeks, but already sweltering heat hung like a weight and seemed to suck the very breath out of him. The furious sounds of the swollen river pounded his determination as he walked along the bank. The mud beneath his boots appeared intent on keeping him from reaching his goal. Moving each foot forward required a Herculean effort.

The memories of Ellen and Kent and that awful evening by the Red Thunder he’d tried so hard to forget leeched into him. He’d need more than a lifetime to repay his debt to both of them.

I’ve really messed things up, Grandmother.

Then it’s time to rewrap the prayer stick, Pajackok.

To the rhythm of the relentless race of the river, he tried to order his thoughts. Blue gave a hoarse whine. Kevin dismissed the worry with a motion of his hand.

Ellen. She was here.

Kevin stopped and faced the river. Fifteen years of near vegetation. “I didn’t know how badly she was hurt.”

Blue cocked his head.

“I know,” Kevin said, squinting at the sun glimmering off the water. “Ignorance doesn’t make it right.”

He’d understood her desperation that evening. He’d even understood her tactic of trying to incite jealousy. But the jumble of love and fear and anger inside him had known no logic. And when she’d turned her attention to Kent to try to win him back, he’d chosen the wrong way to express the feelings storming inside him.

“I was seventeen,” he tried to rationalize.

Blue batted a paw at Kevin’s jean-clad leg.

“I know. That’s no excuse either.”

His feelings had run too deep, too fast. He’d pushed Kent into the river and everything had gone to hell.

Fifteen years of near-vegetation.

His flash of temper had changed all of their lives. It had altered the course of Kent’s. It had turned Ellen’s into a living nightmare.

“Nina was right,” he told the dog. “I have debts that need paying.”

Blue bumped at Kevin’s hand with his nose.

His brother deserved an apology—and would get one—but if Kent chose to run him out of town, Kevin could never repay Ellen.

He kicked a stone. Blue chased it through the rough grass, but skidded to a halt at the bank. The stone sank hard and fast into the water. Blue boomeranged back to Kevin’s side.

Kevin scraped a hand along his jaw, over his cheek. Time and the river had changed his face. “My own twin probably couldn’t recognize me.”

Blue cocked his head, offered a paw.

“No one else in Gabenburg knows me.”

His main concern was helping Ellen. Someone was trying to steal another dream from her. He couldn’t let that happen. She’d lost too much already. He had to do everything in his power to see her hang on to it—even if it meant he had to hire himself out as her ranch hand.

He’d deal with his debt to Kent later.

“If I show up on her front door and say I’m Kyle Makepeace, do you think she’d even hear me out?” The pain of the imagined rejection squeezed him hard.

Blue licked his hand.

“No,” Kevin said, scratching Blue behind the ear. “She’s better off thinking of me as Kevin Ransom rather than the boy who’s responsible for those fifteen years of near vegetation.”

Hunching his shoulders, he turned away from the river. He motioned to Blue and headed for his truck.

First he needed more information. Then he needed a plan.

The truth could wait until he’d repaired a bit of the damage he’d created.

TESSA BANCROFT PEERED inside the empty trailer, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The stale stink of horse manure and hay assaulted her nostrils and made her sneeze. Her voice bounced against the metal walls. “Where are the horses?”

“She no let me load them,” the burly Mexican said.

Gilberto Ramirez didn’t even have to nerve to look her in the eye when he told her of his failure. The poor excuse of a man gazed at his well-worn boots and held his battered straw hat in both hands. Deportation, she suddenly realized, held more fear for him than her wrath.

“She could not tell you no. Don’t you understand that?” Tessa could barely control the impatience rattling through her. First the good doctor had failed in his mission. He’d actually sided with the Paxton woman and agreed the horses were too hurt to transport. Now this. She thrust out a hand. “Give me the writ.”

Gilberto’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“The piece of paper,” she said, swallowing back the half-dozen epithets on the tip of her tongue.

“I give to her—like you say.”

She wanted to tear her hair out by the roots. Throwing up her hands, she pounded down the ramp. “I’m surrounded by incompetent fools!”

Her step faltered. Ellen Paxton was a woman alone. How much would it take to prove her incompetent? Tessa swallowed a smile. Incompetence. That was the answer to protecting the project.

“You,” she said to Gilberto, “come with me. Let’s see if you can do something right for a change.”

She marched to the high-tech barn that served as the project’s headquarters. Barging into an office, she startled the mousy technician entering data into the computer. “Get me Judge Dalton on the phone.”

When the girl simply blinked at her, Tessa plunked the Rolodex in front of her. “Now.”

What was the point of influence if you couldn’t exploit it?

ELLEN HAD BARELY started the evening feed when she heard a truck chugging up the road. Instantly wary, she put the grain bucket down in the middle of the concrete aisle and went to the barn door. Few people came this way unless she invited them. Bancroft’s attempt to retrieve the horses was still fresh in her mind. Her body stiffened, ready for another battle. Shading her eyes against the sun, she watched the truck’s approach.

Pudge, the Shetland pony with the foundered feet, had never missed a meal and didn’t plan on making this a first. He made his displeasure at the wait known with a series of snorts and the thumping of his well-padded rump against the stall wall.

“In a minute,” she said, distracted. At least it wasn’t a trailer. The white truck looked too plain to belong to the flashy Double B outfit. But if it wasn’t one of Bancroft’s minions, who was it?

The truck stopped at the electric gate. A man and a dog exited. When he couldn’t find a latch, he crawled through the metal bars and hiked up her driveway.

Despite the sun’s heat, a shiver skated through her. Backlit by the sun, with the wind stirring dirt around his feet, he made her think of an opening scene in a spaghetti western. Hero lighting, Kyle had called it. The man walked over the uneven grade with the power and grace of a sure-footed horse, but something about him also made her want to run for cover. Maybe it was the black T-shirt on such a hot day. Maybe it was the way his black baseball cap shaded his features. Maybe it was the air of menace around his canine companion.

The dog, with its tan-patched throat and legs, and gray-flecked coat, reminded her of a hyena. Even the blue bandanna wrapped around its neck couldn’t soften the feral air of the beast. Its eyes sported a worried and tentative look—almost as if she was the one who needed fearing.

“Ms. Paxton.” The man extended a hand toward her. The tanned fingers and work-roughened palm hung in midair.

How did he know her name? She took a step back, careful to keep plenty of room between them.

“My name’s Kevin Ransom.” He let his hand fall back to his side. “I heard you’re looking to hire a ranch hand.”

With his black hair and his keen dark eyes, he wasn’t the hero of this show. He could easily have played the villain in one of those old-time westerns Kyle had liked to watch. There was something unsettling about the coarse chiseling of his features and the way the scars veined his skin like the wrong side of a crooked seam. From the raspy sound of his drawl, she guessed he’d suffered some sort of damage to his vocal chords.

His appearance was enough to make even the most genial person leery. But it was his penetrating gaze that sent another frisson of warning down her spine.

There was something a little too timely about his arrival. And she’d never liked coincidences. Was Bancroft planting a mole because she’d refused him access to the horses this morning? If so, why had he sent someone who would frighten her? Was this “ranch hand” meant as an intimidation tactic?

A glance to the side showed her a pitchfork leaning against a post. Not much of a weapon, but she could reach it in two steps—if she didn’t trip over her own feet first. Tension still affected her ability to move in spite of the weekly physical therapy sessions.

Why hadn’t she thought to get a rifle? Or a guard dog? Or an alarm system of some sort? But she didn’t have anything worth stealing—not even her ragged band of horses would interest a normal thief. Until today, she’d felt safe in her little corner of the world. “Who told you I was hiring?”

“Ms. Conover down at the Bread and Butter bakery. I’ve got experience with horses.”

Taryn had sent him? Ellen could check that fact easily enough.

He ran a hand over his scarred face. “I know I don’t look like much, but I’m harmless.” He smiled and the gesture added an odd gentleness to his features. “Ask Blue here, he’ll tell you.” As if on cue, the dog licked the tips of his master’s fingers. “I’ve got references. I’d be glad to have you call them.”

He thought she was judging him by his looks. For heaven’s sake, taking care of broken creatures was her business. Horrified at having given him the wrong impression, she fumbled to reassure him. “No, no, it’s not your face.”

No, the reason for her reticence was pure fear. In the past year, she’d worked hard to make every decision her own. Running this ranch had gone a long way to speed her recovery. She didn’t want to hire anyone. She needed to be alone. She had to prove to herself that she could control her own destiny.

“It’s just that I’ve already promised the job to the son of a friend,” she lied, unable to pin down why this man set her nerves so on edge. The narrowing of his eyes told her he didn’t believe her. How many times had people turned him away because of his unfortunate looks? She shrugged, feeling more awkward by the minute. “You know how that goes.”

“Sure.” He nodded once, then jerked his chin in the direction of the grain bucket behind her. “Tell you what, since he isn’t here now, and you’re in the middle of feeding, why don’t I help you out?”

Why the persistence? “That’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

“All I’ll charge is some water for me and my friend.” He patted the dog’s head. The dog looked up at him adoringly.

Talk about feeling lower than a snake. Here she was ready to assign evil motives to him just because Bancroft had wanted his horses back. All Kevin Ransom was doing was trying to earn some food. He looked lean enough to have skipped a few meals, but not totally desperate.

“I can spare you a meal,” she said. Then she’d send him and his dog on their way. She didn’t need the kind of tension this stranger—any stranger—in her home could spark. “But I really don’t need the help.”

Something in the pasture caught the dog’s interest. A low, rusty growl issued from his throat. He shifted. The movement strained the bandanna at his neck, exposing a hairless necklace of shiny red skin. She gasped. Without thinking, she knelt by the animal. The dog promptly hid behind the man’s legs. “What happened to your dog?”

The man shrugged and looked away. “Some drunk yahoo had him tied with a rope in the back of his pickup and turned a corner too sharply. Blue here went over the side, but the jerk didn’t notice. Took me a mile to get his attention. I thought for sure the dog was dead.” He smiled crookedly, but his eyes were cold and hard. The look warned you didn’t want to get on this man’s wrong side. “I convinced his owner he didn’t want him anymore. Other than the fact he can’t bark, Blue’s as healthy as can be.”

When the man reached down to help her up, she realized how close he was…how isolated the ranch was…how vulnerable she was. She shot up too fast. Dizzy, she lost her balance. He caught her elbow. She snatched it out of his grasp and stumbled a few paces back, landing on her butt.

He lifted both his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She was making things worse by the minute. He thought it was his looks that were scaring her, but her action was pure instinct. She couldn’t stand anyone touching her. Not after fifteen years of being poked and prodded against her will. Bancroft and his threats this morning had made her tenser than usual.

This time, she got up slowly and dusted off the seat of her jeans while she rounded up her scattered thoughts.

“I just lost my balance is all. I’m sorry.” She puffed out a long breath. “Look, why don’t I—”

A whinny of terror rent the air.

The dog shot forward to respond. A motion of the man’s hand stopped him cold. Crouched low on his haunches, muscles shaking, Blue waited for permission to herd.

Without thinking, Ellen raced toward the pasture behind the barn. Her leg muscles protested. She ignored their complaint. Her vision couldn’t adjust to the rapid change of focus and began to blur. She shook her head. Not now!

A thunder of hooves stampeded her way from the far end of the main pasture. What had set the horses off? Luci veered right as the fence approached. C.C. swerved left. But head high in the air, Apollo kept running straight.

“No, Apollo, no!” She blinked madly to refocus. “You can’t jump. Not with that leg.”

Trying to stop him, Ellen flagged her arms. But he was wild with panic and paid her no heed. She could do nothing to stop him.

The chestnut horse tried in vain to jump. Somehow, he caught his right front leg between the top and the second rail as he crashed into the fence. Wood cracked as his full weight barreled into the rails, but held. His panic doubled. He fought and lunged and skidded in the mud with his hind feet, but remained stuck.

Ellen stopped in her tracks. “Whoa, Apollo, whoa. It’s okay, boy.” Slowly, knowing that a fast approach could alarm him even more, she talked to him in a soothing voice. “Well, you’ve got yourself in quite a fix. How are we going to get you out of there?”

The mad scrambling to free himself only got worse.

“Back away,” the man behind her said in a low, assertive voice.

“I can’t leave him like this. He’ll hurt himself more.”

“In his mind, he’s in a life-and-death situation. His leg’s caught and he’s got a predator rushing at him.”

“I’m not a predator. He knows I won’t harm him.” But did he? Was a week long enough to trust someone with your life when you’d suffered abuse?

“He’s in a panic. He’s not thinking.” The voice stroked her as surely as a caress. She shivered. “He’s reacting with nature’s programmed response for survival. Flight. To calm him enough to free his leg, you’re going to have to make him think the threat is moving away.”

In a twisted way, what he said made sense. But she couldn’t just leave Apollo like this. He needed help. He needed it now. She took a step forward. Apollo’s head whipped from side to side, looking for escape. He pulled on his trapped leg, scraping skin and jamming the limb in tighter. One back foot skidded from under him and thwacked against a post. She stopped.

“Apollo.” Her heart wrenched with helplessness. “Let me help you.”

“Back away,” the man said. There was something compelling, seductive almost, about the sandy scrape of his voice.

Suddenly, she was back in the nursing home, strapped to a bed, fighting for her life. Just like Apollo. Garth’s drawling voice had tried to control her and she’d had to battle it with every ounce of her will. Now, the need to move away from the danger this man presented made her muscles twitch. What she wanted, what she had to do, dueled inside her.

Reluctantly, she took a step back, moving closer to the stranger with the gritty voice, giving Apollo the relief she herself had not found.

She kept her gaze fixed on the struggling chestnut horse, ready to rush in should the situation change.

Slowly, the panic in his eyes ebbed. His breathing slowed. His ears flicked back and forth. Then he stood still. With a groan and a puff, Apollo pulled his leg free. Unbalanced, he scampered backward, fell on his hip, then rolled onto his side. Almost immediately, he was back on his feet and running with a jagged gait toward the shed. There he stopped. Huffing and puffing, he scanned the area, then bellowed.

Luci, the dappled gray mare covered by a crust of mud, answered, and ambled toward the frightened horse. Her presence seemed to calm him. He glued himself to her side. C.C., the Appaloosa, grazed his way closer to them, but kept his distance.

“I need to look at his leg,” Ellen said, hitching a foot on the lower rail of the fence.

A hand on her elbow held her back. “Give him a minute to calm down, then I’ll go fetch him for you.”

She twisted, turning away from the touch that shot through her like a firecracker. “That’ll make things worse. Luci’ll freak when you get close and that’ll send Apollo into another panic.”

“What’s her story?”

Ellen glanced at the mare grazing peacefully. “She’s a track reject. She was beaten over the poll by a male trainer because she was afraid of the starting gate.” She snorted. “Like that was going to help. I can’t wear a hat around her. She doesn’t let a man get within ten feet of her.”

The silence beside her was midnight deep. Ellen had to fight the urge to look back at the man with the damaged face and seductive voice. But she felt him—almost as intimately as if he were a lover. His presence pressed against her with a magnetic force that felt oddly familiar and had her holding her breath, waiting for something. What, she wasn’t sure.

“If I can get past her and bring in Apollo, will you reconsider me for the job?”

“Why do you want to work where you’re not wanted?”

“Your friend said you’d had some trouble and could use a hand.”

Taryn had said that? To a stranger? Why? Bancroft had the influence to cause her trouble, but he wouldn’t resort to a physical attack. Would he? “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“This stampede wasn’t natural.”

She shrugged, hating that he echoed her own fear. She’d seen the look of pure panic on all the horses’ faces. How far would Bancroft go to get these horses back? “Anything could have caused them to run. A deer. A skunk. A snake in the grass.”

He nodded.

“I can handle it,” she said.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. I’m just offering a helping hand.”

She looked at Apollo. If he were human, he’d be the type to wake up in the middle of the night, sweating from the terror of reliving his trailer ordeal. Since the accident, he’d refused to bed down in a stall. Just getting him inside the barn’s wide center aisle to doctor his cut back leg took an infinite reserve of patience.

She looked at Luci. The pain the mare had suffered had altered her permanently. The mere sight of a saddle, any weight on her back, glazed her eyes and sent her into a shocked stupor. Even six months of care and patience hadn’t convinced her it was safe to wear a halter.

Then forearms leaning on the top rail, she looked over her shoulder at the man and his canine companion. He wasn’t Garth Ramsey come back to haunt her. He wasn’t Bancroft threatening to take the horses by force. He was just a ranch hand. The only thing he wanted from her was the dignity of working for his supper.

Like her horses, he was broken. Being judged by his scars rather than his skills was more than likely an everyday battle. The haunted look in his dark eyes was one she’d seen in every horse in her care. One meal. What would it hurt? “Every horse here has suffered either physical or mental abuse, most often both. I won’t stand for any strong-arm tactics.”

“I don’t believe in violence.” A ghost of pain shadowed his eyes, making her wonder what curve life had thrown him.

“If you can get past Luci and bring Apollo in without using force or violence, I’ll look at your references.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.”

ELLEN HAD NEVER KNOWN anyone with such an instinctual understanding of horses. Phone in hand, she stared at Kevin through her kitchen window. Out in the pasture, a silent conversation was taking place between Luci and Apollo and the man. He balanced approaching and retreating with the horses’ curiosity and fear. There was a racehorse-like ripple of power to his muscles when he moved that warmed her with unwanted pleasure.

“What’s going on?” Taryn asked on the other end of the line.

“I’m not sure.” She gave Taryn a blow-by-blow account of the slow developments.

Kevin was standing head to chest, shoulders rounded and motionless, waiting for the horses to make the next move. He’d removed his baseball cap, and his jet-black hair seemed to absorb the early-evening light. Luci was the first to give in to curiosity. She took three steps toward Kevin. Then she took another. Ever so slowly, she approached until she stood a few feet from him. Another few steps and she was standing next to him, head low. Five minutes later, he was touching her. In another ten, she was following him back to the pen behind the barn as if mesmerized.

Ellen gasped.

“What?” Taryn asked. “What happened?”

“Luci’s following him like a puppy.”

“Wow!”

“It took me a week to get her to let me touch her. A month to get her to follow me.”

Taryn chuckled. “I’m sensing a bit of jealousy.”

“Of course not.” She wasn’t jealous, was she? Luci was finally starting to trust. That was good. I’m cheering her progress. I’m not jealous. Frowning, she turned to the stove and stirred the spaghetti sauce she’d thrown together for dinner. “Why’d you send him out here?”

“Chance said you needed some help.”

“But why him?”

Ellen heard Taryn take in a long breath. “I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone with Bancroft making trouble for you. Kevin looks more than capable.”

Too capable. “I can handle Bancroft.”

“But can you afford to? Remember the talk-show host he sued last year for disparaging beef? He dug out every bit of dirt possible on her and flung it all over the air. She’s still trying to do damage control.”

“Having a man around the ranch isn’t going to solve that type of attack.” Ellen blew out a breath. “He’s a stranger, Taryn. I can’t have him stay here.”

The sounds of Chance and Shauna playing filtered through the line. The baby laughed wholeheartedly at Chance’s baby talk, tugging a reluctant smile from Ellen.

“I know,” Taryn said. “But I like him.”

“Didn’t his face throw you off?” Ellen frowned at the pot and stirred the thick red sauce.

“You know, after a couple of minutes, I didn’t even see his scars. He’s got a great laugh. In a way, he sort of reminds me of Chance.”

Ellen’s frown deepened. When she thought of Kevin, it wasn’t his face that came to mind either. Since feeding time, it was his hands. He had the most beautiful hands she’d ever seen on a man. The horses seemed to love his touch. Some ancient-Greek sculptor would have paid a small fortune for the privilege of immortalizing them in bronze or marble. Then there was the voice. She shook her head and turned down the heat under the sauce.

“Still,” Ellen said, not quite knowing what it was she wanted from Taryn.

“You checked out his references.”

Oh, yeah, she’d checked. Staring at the spice shelf, she couldn’t remember what she’d wanted. Everyone had spoken of Kevin Ransom in glowing terms. The praise had sounded genuine, the pleasure in his skill heartfelt. They’d made a Ransom-raised horse sound like a true prize. She’d heard enough stories of the horses he’d helped to fill a book. “Yes, but…”

“But what? You need help and he’s obviously qualified. How can Judge Dalton use your rehabilitation against you when you’ve got Kevin around?”

Oregano in hand, Ellen turned to the window. If anything, Kevin was overqualified to work as a mere ranch hand. Something wasn’t right. But what? Letting Apollo set the pace, Kevin was luring him into the net of his spell. A shiver danced across her shoulders.

That was it, she decided. Kevin could cast a spell.

He’d done so with his dog, with Taryn, with the horses. And she was afraid that, in her weakened state, she could easily fall prey to it, too, and lose the ground she’d fought for in the past year. The way he moved made her uncomfortably aware that he was a virile man. His voice made her shiver even in the heat. The keenness of his gaze made her feel a peculiar combination of desire and fear. Reacting so intensely to a man she didn’t know was insane.

The last thing she needed right now was another con man around. She needed to be by herself. She needed to concentrate on the horses. She needed to know her own mind, her own strength, before she allowed another man to touch her life. “I’ve got to go.”

“Ellen?”

He had to leave. Tonight. Bancroft and his manipulations were giving her enough to worry about without adding a man like Kevin to the mix. “He’s got Apollo in the barn. I need to go check on his legs.”

“Sure.” Taryn hesitated. “Ellen?”

“What?”

“You can’t judge every man by what Garth did to you.”

“I know that.” She jerked the pantry door open and snatched a box of spaghetti from the shelf. Horses, dogs and otherwise smart women trusted him. “He’s not Garth. I can see that with my own eyes.”

“But can you see it with your heart?”

She slapped the box of pasta onto the counter. “Of course.”

Taryn sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

Ellen muttered a curse. “All right, I’m going to prove you wrong. I’m going to let him stay.”

Where had that come from? Was she so easily influenced that she could change her mind in the space of a second? Shaking, she turned to the window. Her gaze scouted through the encroaching darkness. Kevin’s bent silhouette walked the pasture as if he was searching for something.

She’d forgotten about the trigger. What had started the mad stampede? Apollo was still too hurt to run for the sheer pleasure of it. Where was her mind? Why hadn’t she thought to look for the cause? Was her memory affected as well as her balance and her ability to focus her eyes?

The shroud of evening tightened around the ranch. Shadows lengthened and stretched across the yard like the bars of a cage.

“That’s a good start,” Taryn said. “But don’t do it for me.”

“For the horses.” I’m healthy. I’m strong. I can take care of myself. I can handle having a simple ranch hand doing chores around the ranch.

“Of course.” Taryn sounded amused.

Ellen rolled her eyes. Why was it that married folks were in such a hurry to have you join in their misery? “Go back to your husband and baby. I’ve got a pair of legs to go doctor.”

“Let it never be said I stood in the way of a good vetting.” Taryn’s voice warbled with laughter.

“Tell me again why I called you.”

“For my unbiased opinion about your stubbornness.”

“Right. Remind me not to do that again.”

“It’s a question of balance, Ellen.”

“I know.” And right now, she was on the wrong side of the fulcrum.