Читать книгу Red Thunder Reckoning - Sylvie Kurtz - Страница 14

In the pasture, Kevin crouched beside an old feed bag. Blue sat at his side. Stuck in a clump of grass at the edge of the field, the paper wrapping crinkled with each puff of breeze. With a finger, Kevin widened the scrunched opening. A rusty piece of barbed wire fell from the tangle of junk inside.

He followed the line of fence at the back of the field. Blue dogged his every step. Two more bags rolled through the pasture like noisy tumbleweeds. Blue sniffed at the trash inside them—bits of wire, jumbles of old rope, dried horsetail weed. All potential dangers to the horses.

Ellen had set up her grazing fields well. Two were in use. Well-maintained fences with rounded corners kept the horses safe and enclosed. Posts waiting for rails outlined a future third pasture. A dirt road formed a T, providing easy access to all three fields. Each had a hedge of mesquite and oak at one end to provide a windbreak and shade. Each contained an open shed for shelter from the rain. This field had a watering trough. The other had a pond fed by a brook.

Everything was neat, ordered, well kept…safe.

The garbage-filled bags were out of place.

From where he and Ellen had stood in the yard, a small rise of land in the middle of this pasture had hidden the horses resting in the shade out of sight.

Whoever had set the bags free had done a good job. He’d started the stampede out of sight with means that would startle the horses without attracting Ellen’s attention to what had frightened them—at least not right away. Someone had known the horses would be her first concern.

The question was why?

The answer’s there if you ask the right question, Nina’s voice echoed in his head.

Kevin rose. Stuffing his hands in his jeans pockets, he studied the pasture again. “The hard part is knowing the right question to ask.”

What if a horse had tangled a leg in a piece of wire or rope from the bag? Had someone meant to hurt the horses? Or just scare them?

Again, why?

Kevin piled the bags out of harm’s way and signaled to Blue. “Let’s go.”

One thing was sure, he decided as he made his way to the barn, someone had deliberately induced the panic.

He glanced at Luci, Apollo and C.C. huddled by the manger at the end of the field closest to the barn. Why would anyone want to hurt these horses? Hurting the horses would hurt Ellen. Why would anyone want to hurt her?

He’d failed to protect her sixteen years ago. This time he’d get it right. Somehow he had to convince her he had to stay.

Time, patience and understanding the other’s point of view, that’s how it goes, Nina’s voice reminded him.

He was short on all three.

ELLEN SAW to Apollo’s legs. Despite his wild thrashing, he’d only skinned his foreleg. The back leg simply required the usual icing, massage and change of bandage. She fussed over him, then turned him back out with C.C. She groomed Luci—for all the good that would do—then turned her out with the others. Because of her sensitive skin, Luci rolled in dirt as soon as she was released.

Kevin and Blue were still stalking the pasture. What was taking him so long? Her mouth went dry. Her palms itched. She rubbed her wrist with the fingers of her opposite hand. What had he found?

She’d fallen in love with this piece of land the moment she’d seen it. The little house with its sunny rooms and open spaces had reminded her of the one she and Kyle had drawn on the ground one night under the stars—right down to its porch and beds of moss roses. All that was missing was the two rockers on the porch to enjoy the view of their spread after a long day’s work. The barn, the pastures had seemed just right to breed a horse or two and give training a try. Nothing fancy. All she wanted to do was make dependable saddle horses for girls with dreams of riding.

Then Luci had come along. Then C.C. Then Pudge. They’d needed her, and it seemed she’d needed them, too. Watching them heal gave her a sense of purpose she’d almost given up finding.

Now, she reflected as she headed out of the barn, a slight tarnish marred her simple joy. The spiked shadows of the barn, fences and trees creeping black over the pens and pasture seemed to snap at her boots like greedy vampires wanting to suck her energy. Something wasn’t right and she wanted nothing more than to head for the house and hide in its cozy light. Instead, she crawled through the gate and headed toward Kevin and Blue coming her way.

“Got a wheelbarrow?” he asked.

She nodded. “What did you find?”

“I’ll show you.” From the barn he retrieved the wheelbarrow, then led her to the far corner near the windbreak of trees. There, he lifted a feed bag. “Someone wanted to scare your horses.”

Suddenly shaky, she crouched to examine the contents of the bag.

“Barbed wire,” he said. “Old rope and horsetail.”

Rusty wire, frayed rope, poisonous weeds. She’d sent Bancroft’s minion away. Had he wanted to punish her for defying him by harming Luci or C.C.? “Maybe the bags blew out of one of the neighbors’ Dumpster.”

Kevin gestured for her to follow him. On the other side of the fence, he showed her tire tracks. They led from the road to the fence, then back again. “They look like they were made by an ATV. And here…” He pointed to tracks in the mud. “Boot prints. Man’s size ten or eleven.”

It didn’t make any sense. As much as she hated to admit it, the law was on Bancroft’s side. All that stood between him and getting his horses back was time. Why would he resort to dumping trash in her pasture?

But if not Bancroft, then who would do such a cruel thing? “I didn’t see any cars or anyone prowling around.”

Kevin straightened and hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets. “Who owns the land behind your pasture?”

“Mike Stockman. He runs a few head of cattle. It’s mostly a hobby, though. He runs some sort of computer-support company.”

“Do you know him? What about your other neighbors? Have you had any problems with them?”

She’d barely said hello to any of her neighbors. They minded their business and she minded hers. Eyebrows knit, she shook her head. “I don’t see why any of them would want to scare the horses. They’re all small-time ranchers, just like me. They all love their animals.”

“No water-rights feud or access disputes?”

“No.”

“How long have you lived here?”

“I bought the ranch nine months ago.” She’d bought it with the out-of-court settlement from her suit against Garth and the nursing home. She could have gotten more if the case had gone to trial, but she didn’t have the energy and she’d wasted too much time to scatter another couple of years in court. Getting on with her life had seemed more important. “I moved in six months ago and Luci arrived a week later.”

“Ever have any problems before?” Kevin piled the three bags into the wheelbarrow.

“None.”

He jerked his chin toward Luci and C.C. grazing the grass in the middle of the field, swishing their tails in slow arcs against the bugs. “What’s the story with your horses?”

“Luci, Pudge and Chocolate Chip, also known as C.C., are mine.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d heard about Luci from a jockey at one of her weekly physical therapy sessions. “Luci came by way of a friend. The humane society contacted me about C.C. and my vet sent me Pudge. No one else wanted them.”

“What about the Thoroughbreds?”

She looked at Apollo, standing on three legs, resting. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the panicked look in his eyes, the blood mixed with the rain, hear his trumpet of fear. “There was a wreck last week. Where my road meets the highway. It was horrible. I’m taking care of them until they can travel again.”

“How badly does the owner want his horses back?”

Her heart thumped hard once. That was the question of the day. “They’re all hurt. I can’t see what use they are to him. Some might race again, but most probably won’t.”

“Breeding?”

She snorted. “Four geldings won’t get him too far.”

“Then why doesn’t he wait until they can travel again?”

The helpless feeling wrapping around her was suddenly turning her ranch into just another cage. “I don’t know.”

Kevin picked up the wheelbarrow handle. “I think you should call the sheriff.”

She looked at him long and hard, then nodded and headed for the house. She didn’t know what to make of Kevin Ransom yet, but at least he had his priorities right.

The horses came first.

WHILE SHE WAITED for water to boil to make spaghetti for the sauce she started earlier, Ellen fought the urge to run a brush through her hair and change her shirt.

“Because I’ve been out all day and I’m hot and sweaty,” she told her reflection on the microwave’s black door. “Certainly not for a ranch hand.”

Her image called her a liar. She stuck her tongue out at it, then plunged dry noodles into the boiling water. What did she care what he thought? He was a temporary necessity. That was all. Having a hand around might just make the difference in convincing the judge she could handle the workload these special horses required. Nothing more.

Chance had promised to come out in the morning to look at the tracks and the evidence Kevin had collected from the pasture. Until then, worrying would do her no good.

As she drained the noodles, the hot water steamed the window over the sink, erasing her view of the barn. She sensed Kevin’s return to the kitchen before she saw him. Having him here, even if he was simply washing up and sharing a meal, was changing the balance she’d set up for herself. Her awareness of him with its heavy imprint had the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. Who was he? What was he doing here? Why would someone with such talent with horses have to work for his meals?

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.

His gaze stroked the length of her disheveled braid, making her self-conscious of her untidy appearance. She nearly dropped the pot she was holding. “No. Sit. Everything’ll be ready in a minute.”

Blue, who was lying next to the boot bench by the door, sprang to his feet. When his wagging tail knocked one of her riding boots over, he jumped sideways and glanced at her with a crestfallen look.

“It’s all right,” she told the dog as she took a plate from one of the glass-fronted cabinets. “I don’t bite.”

Blue looked up at Kevin as if to ask his opinion.

“It’s going to take more than a boot to work up her temper.” He smiled and petted the dog’s head. Blue relaxed. The tension in her gut twisted up another notch.

“He doesn’t seem to be aware of how ferocious he looks,” she said.

“He’s absolutely clueless.” Chuckling, Kevin pulled out a chair. The rush seat creaked as he sat.

“How long have you had him?” She piled spaghetti onto the plate, ladled on sauce, took one look at Kevin’s lean body and added extra meatballs.

“A couple of months. We’re still getting used to each other.”

Used to each other? Hadn’t he noticed the dog’s total adoration?

To her horror, she seemed to turn all thumbs while serving him. Her hand cramped. The plate started wobbling. The whole serving of noodles listed to one side. She slanted the plate up, but not before a meatball rolled off. It plopped against his T-shirt and rolled onto his lap.

“I’m sorry.” Face on fire, she started toward him, then thought better of it. Was she ever going to have full control over her body again? What had possessed her to invite a stranger into her home? This was her sanctuary, her haven—the one place in the world where she could be herself without anyone judging her. Silently cursing, she plucked napkins from the holder and handed them to him. “I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He took the whole thing in stride, as if things like this happened to him every day. His mouth quirked up on one side.

Something about the gesture ruffled her inside. Another time, another face came to mind. She shook her head and turned to fill a plate for herself. Kyle is dead. Stop thinking about him. How was she going to get this man out of her kitchen without being rude?

“It’s not funny,” she said. “If you give me your shirt, I’ll add it to the laundry tomorrow. Not now, I mean, after dinner. I mean, when you change.” Her jerky movements flung strands of spaghetti across the counter.

“I make you nervous.” Kevin tossed the offending meatball resting in his lap to Blue who gobbled it in one bite.

As Kevin dabbed at the tomato sauce staining his T-shirt, his gaze followed her every move. The insistent tracking enhanced the stiffening of her muscles. She seemed to grow ten thumbs and her feet seemed to work backward. Was he studying her? Looking for weakness? She might be down, but she wasn’t out. “Did Bancroft send you?”

“I don’t know anyone named Bancroft.”

“He owns the Thoroughbreds.”

Kevin got up and filled a glass of water at the sink. His shoulder zinged against hers, more breeze than touch, making her stiffen even more.

“I’ve got iced tea, if you like.” She jigged sideways to put distance between them. Why did her chest squeeze so hard when he was close?

He raised the glass. “This is fine.”

“Judge Dalton, then?” She suddenly feared finding the garbage-filled bags would become a black mark on her scorecard. See, Judge Dalton, she can’t take care of these horses. They could have gotten cut on the wire or tangled with the rope. And if they’d eaten any of that horsetail, they could have hurt themselves staggering like drunks. No, sir, Mr. Judge, this woman can’t handle such expensive animals, especially in their delicate state.

“Like I said, I found out about the job from Ms. Conover.”

She set her plate on the table and forgot why she went to the fridge. “I have some Parmesan cheese, I think.”

“I’m fine.”

She returned to her chair and shook cheese she didn’t want onto her spaghetti.

The refrigerator hummed. The air conditioner fanned cool air. The ice in her glass shifted and clunked.

He ate with reverence as if he was giving thanks for every bite. Blue tracked his master’s fork, hoping for a little something to fall his way, although she’d seen Kevin feed him a bowl of kibble at the truck earlier.

The scent of garlic and oregano added a sense of warmth and comfort to the room. And the night shrank the world to the pool of yellow light brimming from the fixture overhead. Too cozy.

Though she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, she couldn’t seem to work up an appetite. She twirled her fork into the pasta.

“You seem to get around,” she said, breaking a meatball in half. “Oklahoma, Montana, Colorado.”

“You checked my references.”

The piercing intensity of his dark eyes made her want to push her chair back. She forced herself to eat a bite of meatball. “Of course.”

He nodded.

Concentrating on her plate, she tried to eat more. She didn’t want to feel anything toward him. Not sympathy. Not curiosity. Not even hatred. Any of those would require emotional investment. What she wanted was disinterest, detachment, indifference. There was no point creating ties only to break them. Especially with someone who seemed to burrow under her skin as easily as chiggers.

But try as she might, she couldn’t keep the questions from bubbling until they spilled. “Who taught you…?”

He looked up from his plate, met her gaze and didn’t flinch. His eyes were impossibly dark. Like a starless night, she thought. The vastness of the depth brought out a sudden sense of agoraphobia, of panic, whose grip was almost impossible to bear.

“Taught me what?”

“What you did with Luci and Apollo. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He took a long swallow of water, then set the glass down. When he looked at her once more, warmth swam in his eyes, bringing the sting of tears to her own eyes and a longing she didn’t understand to her heart.

“My grandmother believed that everything is connected. Every human, every animal, every rock and tree. The horse isn’t lower than the dog. The human isn’t king above all. She believed that we’re all equal, but different. We all have a purpose. She taught me to treat the horse with respect.”

Ellen sipped her tea. “It took me a long time to gain Luci’s trust. How could you reach through her fears so fast?”

“If you want to communicate with a horse, you listen to him talk, then respond to him in his language.”

“You didn’t say anything.” Not that she could have heard him from inside the kitchen.

“The horse’s instinct is honed to survive. He’s programmed to run away, to protect himself from anything that scares him. To earn his trust, you need patience, a soft hand. You need to ask yourself how he feels in any given situation. Nothing magic about it.”

She rose. Snatching her plate off the table, she headed toward the sink. It suddenly occurred to her that Kevin was using that very tactic on her. Patience. He’d stayed far longer than she’d wanted him to, hadn’t he? A soft hand. He’d chosen to show her that skill through her horses. What did he see when he put himself in her shoes? Her isolation? Her weakness? “Why are you here?”

“I need a job.”

“You could have a stable of your own. With the way you have with horses, you could put on clinics and make a ton of money. Why work hand to mouth?”

“I don’t work for Bancroft. I don’t work for Judge Dalton. I don’t work for anyone but myself.”

Independence. She could understand that. It was what she wanted for herself. Someone like him probably had to learn to depend on only himself to survive. She scraped the uneaten food into a container. Still…he had a talent that could easily overcome his looks. Why waste it on a rescue ranch that would never turn a profit?

“You want to work for me.”

“Only for a while.”

Then he’d move on. She didn’t know why that should bother her so much. The need for change, Kyle had had it, too. Why did this man keep resurrecting Kyle when she was trying so hard to forget him? Of course with Chance a part of her life again, Kyle was never really far away from her thoughts.

“I like what you’re trying to do here.”

She looked at Kevin over her shoulder. The tenderness in his eyes caught her off guard. He quickly turned away, finishing the last bite on his plate. For a second, she wondered if her imagination had played a trick on her.

“And I don’t like the fact someone’s trying to get in your way.”

She laughed softly as she stowed the food containers in the fridge. Her life was turning into a B-grade western right in front of her eyes. The cowboy had come riding into town. Okay, so he’d ridden a white truck instead of a white steed and worn a baseball cap instead of a Stetson. But if he was planning to play the strong hero to her weak damsel before riding into the sunset, he’d be sorely disappointed.

“If you’re going to stick around,” she said, “let’s get one thing straight.”

He gave her a quizzical look.

“Around here, I give the orders.”

“YES, MA’AM.” Kevin fought the urge to grin as he got up to leave.

At the kitchen door, they stood eye to eye. He’d liked that about Ellen. They’d been partners from their first date. It had taken a horse and a mighty fine display of horsemanship for him to notice her, but once he had, she’d owned his heart. And he’d owned hers—until one stupid outburst of temper, of insecurity, destroyed the best thing in his life.

“You can take a shower in the house, but you’ll have to bunk down in the barn.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She wasn’t going to let him get away with anything. Nothing had changed in that respect.

“And Mr. Ransom—”

“Kevin.”

“The same as for the horses goes for me.”

“You’ve been abused?” Would she admit it?

A spark of shock flashed through her eyes before she hid the pain with ice. “I won’t stand for strong-arm tactics. If you can’t follow orders, you might as well leave now.”

“You need a hand. I’m here to help.”

“I’m not as helpless as you might think.”

“I never thought for a minute you were helpless.”

She might look as if a good wind would blow her over, but he’d never made the mistake of thinking of her as weak. She had a spine of steel and titanium nerves. How she could still have a heart of gold after all she’d gone through was a mystery.

“I have a gun and I know how to use it.”

Her eye contact slipped. Her body stiffened. Her fingers folded toward her palms. She was lying. He had made her nervous.

“I won’t give you cause to use it.”

He retrieved his gear from the truck, returned to the house, then let the water in the shower sluice over his tired body. Heat steamed into his knotted muscles, relaxing them a notch.

He didn’t like lying to Ellen, but after all she’d gone through, she wouldn’t welcome him here. And what he’d seen in her pasture tonight made the threat to her safety real enough. Bancroft wanted his horses back and his actions said he’d use any means to reach his goal. Kevin figured his presence here evened the odds.

But being near her without touching her, kissing her, holding her was a torture he hadn’t anticipated. The hum he’d always felt when she was close sang through him in sweet agony. Walking that fine line between protecting her and hurting her would require all of Nina’s lessons. Already, he was falling short. The anger he’d learned to tamp down with Nina’s example was seeping out of its locked box and poisoning his blood.

Never lie to a horse.

“It can’t be helped. Besides, she’s not a horse. I’m just here to watch her back.”

Never lie to yourself.

He brushed away the ping to his conscience. A bottle of pink shower gel, resting in a caddie beneath the showerhead, caught his attention. He reached for it. As he sniffed, the subtle scent he’d noticed on Ellen’s skin filled him. He turned the bottle over and read the ingredients. “Essence of moonflower.”

That suited her. She, too, had managed to bloom where there was no light. He’d always admired that quality in her. Her resilience had attracted him more than her beauty, more than her gentleness, more than her skill as a rider. And that quality had also made it easier to abandon her.

When he’d woken up in a torture of pain from his fractured bones, when he’d realized he was responsible for his own brother’s death, he’d thought she’d be better off without him. She’ll survive the heartache, he’d told himself as he’d glimpsed his broken face in the mirror. She’d go on to become the horse doctor she’d dreamed of becoming. She’d find someone else to love her and have the family she’d always wanted.

Fifteen years of near vegetation. The horror of it wouldn’t stop haunting him.

Sharply, he cut off the stream of water. He dried off, dressed and hurried back to the barn.

From the door he watched Ellen as she readied her charges for the night. She inspected every horse, giving each a kind word. She made sure each was safe.

An orange cat perched on a stall door groomed itself. Blue seemed to have overcome his shyness and followed Ellen from horse to horse, head cocked toward the sound of her voice.

The sweetness of her smile notched at his heart. He relished the tenderness in her voice. He ached for the soft touch of her hands.

Then she noticed him and the soothing vision transformed into the picture of wariness.

“There’s a cot and some linens.” She pointed toward the tack room. “The hayloft might be too hot, but there’s an empty stall. Or the tack room, but the window’s stuck. I’ll be here at six for the morning feed.”

No doubt meaning his sorry butt better be ready to work by then. That was all right. He knew he had to prove himself to her.

She brushed by him, giving him one last whiff of exotic moonflowers. He saw her lock the doors to her house, latch every window and check them twice. Air-conditioning would come in handy in a house closed so tight.

He shifted uneasily.

If she never knew, then his lie couldn’t hurt her. He’d laid the facts straight out. When the job was done, he’d leave.

Her trials had put a hard edge in her eyes, fear in her bones. She’d survived only to have her new dream tested. Was it a wonder she softened, lit up and let down her guard only for the horses?

Love, not fear, should be her nightly companion. But it wasn’t his place to show her. He’d lost that chance sixteen years ago when he’d let his temper rule his actions.

Blue danced around him. The dog crouched with his front legs extended, rear up. The soft noise in his throat said, “Let’s play.” When he got no response, he sat in front of Kevin with one paw slightly raised. Absently, Kevin petted the dog’s head.

Troubled, he turned away from the snug little house and the woman for which he had no right to care.

His duty now was to keep Ellen safe. Nothing more.

THROUGH THE BLINDS’ SLATS, Ellen sensed her new ranch hand’s attention. Kevin’s rugged silhouette against the light in the barn stirred something inside her. The sensation fascinated her and frightened her.

After Kyle’s death, after the horror of being nearly killed by Garth, she never thought she’d be interested in another man.

She tugged the rope, snapping the slats into place, and erased her view of the barn. “Not that I’m interested.”

But as she showered, she couldn’t help wondering just how gentle the touch of his hands was, how warm his lips would feel, how seductive his whispers would be. The scars should distract from his appeal, but somehow they didn’t.

Get a grip, Ellen. You heard him. He’s a drifter. No fencing him in. He works for himself. He doesn’t stay long in any one place. You need another cowboy in your life like you need a hole in the head. And the hole would probably do you more good. At least the memories of Kyle could finally drain away.

Luci had trusted Kevin with an ease she rarely showed the human race. She’d eaten oats out of his hands as if he were a long-lost friend. While they fed, shy Calliope had demanded her share of attention when he’d spent too much time with Pandora. Even gruff Titan had minded his manners. Hercules had allowed him to change his bandage without the usual half hour of coaxing. And Perseus had let him handle his ears without much of a fuss.

He was gentle yet firm. He was open with the horses in a way she sensed he wasn’t with her. He confused her and she didn’t like that. Shaking her head, she slipped into bed.

Sleep would not come. The soft tick tick of the clock on her bedside table failed to lull her into dreams. The slip of ocean tides on the soothing melody of a cello playing Pachelbel’s Canon fell short of their usual relaxation effect. The complete darkness didn’t trick her brain into slumber. She spent the night restlessly shifting to the imagined sound of Kevin’s tantalizing whispers.

Then the whispers turned into threats as snakes of barbed wire and frayed rope wrapped around her wrists and ankles, tying her down. She staggered through the dark, spitting out the horsetail stuffed in her mouth. The horses’ desperate whinnies echoed all around her. She tried to yell. She tried to fight. One by one the horses were led by her and into a black hole where their cries died unanswered.

Her heart pounded and pounded until finally her muddled mind realized the noise was coming not from inside her chest but from the kitchen door.

Blinking madly, she sprang out of bed and fell to one knee. Something was wrong. The horses. She had to get to the horses. Swearing, she reached for clothes and hobbled into them as she made her way across the room.