“The sheriff says you don’t exist.”

Ellen’s offhand comment zinged like a cattle prod. Kevin’s jaw tightened. “I’m real enough. You checked my references.”

“They only go back a few years. What did you do before?”

This was the time. All he had to do was open his mouth and let the truth spill out. I’m Kyle. I’ve come to pay back my debt to you.

But the truth would sting. So he turned away, peered into the night.

“I was in an accident,” he started. The words stuck in his throat. “I spent a couple of years recovering.”

“Why did you change your identity?”

Did she know? He glanced at her over his shoulder. Her gaze studied him. Did she see through his scars, through his deception? What would she do if he ran a finger along the curve of her cheek? Would she recognize the taste of his kiss?

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

We’ve got another explosive lineup of four thrilling titles for you this month. Like you’d expect anything less of Harlequin Intrigue—the line for breathtaking romantic suspense.

Sylvie Kurtz returns to east Texas in Red Thunder Reckoning to conclude her emotional story of the Makepeace brothers in her two-book FLESH AND BLOOD series. Dani Sinclair takes Scarlet Vows in the third title of our modern Gothic continuity, MORIAH’S LANDING. Next month you can catch Joanna Wayne’s exciting series resolution in Behind the Veil.

The agents at Debra Webb’s COLBY AGENCY are taking appointments this month—fortunately for one woman who’s in serious jeopardy. But with a heartthrob Latino bodyguard for protection, it’s uncertain who poses the most danger—the killer or her Personal Protector.

Finally, in a truly innovative story, Rita Herron brings us to NIGHTHAWK ISLAND. When one woman’s hearing is restored by an experimental surgery, she’s awakened to the sound of murder in Silent Surrender. But only one hardened detective believes her. And only he can guard her from certain death.

So don’t forget to pick up all four for a complete reading experience. Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Red Thunder Reckoning
Sylvie Kurtz

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Marci—

For all the phone calls, the emergency road service and

brainstorming—but mostly for the friendship.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&M’s for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight itself. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.

Since then, she has traded in her wings for a keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense. When not writing, she enjoys the outdoors with her husband and two children, quilt making, photography and reading whatever catches her interest.

You can write to Sylvie at P.O. Box 702, Milford, NH 03055. And visit her Web site at www.sylviekurtz.com.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Kevin Ransom—He needs to make things right, not worse, so to help the woman he once loved earn a piece of her dream, he comes to her assistance pretending to be a stranger.

Ellen Paxton—To heal, she needs to be the voice of the broken horses who have come to her from a highway wreck. But when a drifter with a scarred face comes into her life, will she let him heal her heart?

Nina Rainwater—Kevin’s “grandmother” gave him a second chance at life. Now her dying wish is for the son of her heart to find peace.

Chance Conover—He’ll see that no one hurts Ellen again, especially not a drifter cowboy who reminds her of the past.

Taryn Conover—Ellen’s friend sees through the scars both visible and invisible.

Garth Ramsey—Even behind bars, he seems to know just how to find Ellen’s most tender scar.

Bradley Bancroft—He’s used to winning and doesn’t take no for an answer very well.

Tessa Bancroft—The trophy wife talks of protocol and data, but doesn’t fit the part of horsewoman she seems to desire.

Dr. Silas Warner—He sold his soul years ago. What does he have to lose?

Dr. Lillian Harmon—Her discovery has unexpected side effects.

Vance Dalton—The judge holds the power over the horses Ellen hopes to save.

ELLEN’S EASY SPAGHETTI SAUCE

1 onion, diced

1 green pepper, seeded and diced

1 celery stalk, diced

1 garlic clove, minced

1 tbsp olive oil

1 28-oz can of crushed tomatoes

1 15-oz can of tomato sauce

1 14.5-oz can of diced tomatoes

1 6-oz can of tomato paste

2 tsp Italian seasoning

½ tsp crushed red pepper

Sauté vegetables and garlic in olive oil until onions are soft and transparent. Add crushed tomatoes, tomato sauce, diced tomatoes, tomato paste, Italian seasonings and crushed red pepper. Bring to boil, lower heat and simmer for twenty minutes.

This sauce can also be placed in a crockpot and slow cooked all day for an easy dinner after a long day at work. Leftovers freeze well.

Variation: Add one pound of browned hamburger, meatballs or a bag of soy crumbles to sauce, then simmer.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Prologue

“Not bad.” Tessa Bancroft clicked the stopwatch as the black colt crossed the six-furlong mark. From beneath the protection of the covered stand her giddy delight galloped in time to the thunder of hooves making mud fly. Neither rain, nor mud, nor wind could slow him down. Nothing.

He was the one. Come November he would win the Texas Breeders’ Cup championship for two-year-old colts. She had no doubt. The first true test was in less than a month—the Texas Stars Derby. He would make a splash.

And so would she.

Then next year she would go national. She could practically taste the mint juleps now.

“Best I’ve ever seen,” said the trainer as he mopped rain from his face with a faded bandanna. “He’s got heart, soul and guts. Come inside. I’ll show you the training schedule for next week. I wish you’d reconsider and let me work him in the morning with the others.”

“No, I don’t want him seen until I’m ready.” She wanted to take all those highbrow blue bloods by surprise. Teresa Vega was born in the gutter, but Tessa Bancroft belonged among the cream. When they saw him, when he won…

Sharp trumpets of terror blared from the television set on the corner of the desk in the cramped barn office. The trainer reached for the knob. With a hand clawed around his wrist Tessa stopped him.

Spreading pools of blood, drumming spikes of rain and the fitful windmill of trapped equine legs filled the screen. Then the camera zoomed in on a pair of firemen opening the side of a trailer like a sardine can. A woman’s hand soothed one of the horses jammed inside. The animal’s eyes were wide with panic. Rain slicked its red mane against its neck. Blood ran in rivulets tracing pink worms on the white blaze on its face.

Horror crawled down her spine as she recognized the beast.

“On the outskirts of the small town of Gabenburg, northeast of Beaumont,” a reporter said, “a horse-transport van overturned on the slick roads caused by today’s torrential downpour and the near hurricane-strength winds blowing through the Gulf Coast region.” The reporter’s yellow slicker flapped in the wind, sending her careful hairdo into frenzied flight. Her eyes narrowed against the onslaught of rain and her grip tightened around the microphone. “The six horses trapped inside are still alive. Sheriff Conover, can you tell us how the rescue operation is going?”

Tessa swore and flicked down the volume. She didn’t need this. Not so close to reaching her goal. No one could know about the project.

Without asking, she snagged the phone off its cradle and dialed. “Have you seen the news?”

“No,” the voice hedged.

“Turn on your set. Now.” She waited until she heard the report buzzing in the background. “Get out there and take care of that mess.”

“I can’t leave—”

“How is your dear Lillian?” She let the threat hang.

The time to call on ethics was long past. The good doctor had made his choice years ago. He could blame his choice on youth. He could blame it on mistaken idealism. But that did not alter the fact he was responsible for making the decision in the first place. No one had held a gun to his head. At least not then.

Now, well, sometimes people needed a reminder of their goals. She would use every weapon at her disposal to ensure he saw the project he’d started to its perfect completion—even his dying wife’s welfare. “I want them back at the clinic tonight.”

Chapter One

“What is this?” Nina Rainwater asked in disgust, flipping through channels and landing on the only one showing news. “A million channels and this is what I get? I’m in Colorado, how come I’ve got to listen to weather from Beaumont, Texas?”

“Satellite dish, Grandmother,” Kevin Ransom said as he entered the hospice room. Nina looked out of place in the pink frill of the room. He’d always associated her with blue skies and green pastures, with the scent of sweet hay and the smoke of a wood fire—with undying energy.

She didn’t look well this evening. Strands of hair, dull as a rainy November sky, poked out of her usually neat braid. Her brown eyes were listless and her breathing seemed more labored in spite of the tubes feeding her oxygen through her nose.

The mock disgust was for his benefit. She didn’t want him to worry about her. But he couldn’t help himself. She’d given him his life back after he’d thrown it away. He owed her more than gratitude, and now, when she needed him most, he was helpless again. “Sometimes you can’t get local news with a satellite dish.”

“Pah!” She pitched the remote and looked longingly at the sun starting to set outside her window. The bearberry flowers, pussytoes and columbines in the rock garden bordering the property swayed in the breeze.

“Want me to turn off the TV?” Kevin asked.

She shrugged.

Kevin reached for the remote—a mere five inches from where she’d launched it—and aimed the gadget at the television set on the roll cart at the foot of Nina’s bed. He was about to press the power button when the image on the screen jumped straight out of his nightmare. It rose like a ghost from his past and laughed at him with satanic glee.

You can run as fast and as far as you want from trouble, but it will never let you forget.

He dreaded evenings when his mind had time to catch up with his body, prompting the assault of all he longed to forget. For sixteen years he’d lived a lie, trying to erase the mental picture of his brother’s lifeless body ripped from his grasp on the Red Thunder’s flood-swollen waters.

Like some punishment cursed upon him by a Greek god, Kent, Ellen and the accident on that awful evening visited him nightly, torturing him with all he’d lost.

The television screen showed a transport van filled with racehorses toppled on a rain-slicked highway outside a small East Texas town. As much as his life revolved around horses, it wasn’t his equine brothers that held him entranced but the man swaddled in a black slicker trying to save them. Watching the sheriff on the screen was as if he were viewing his own face, had the rocks in the Red Thunder River not altered it all those years ago.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Blood roared in his ears. Thoughts tumbled through his mind like debris on a storm-tossed sea. It’s the rain, he tried to convince himself. It made him think of the river, of that night.

It’s not him. It can’t be. Look, the name’s different. Conover, not Makepeace. And Beaumont is at least a hundred miles from Ashbrook.

Downriver, he reminded himself. The sharp cheekbones. The hard eyes. The mantle of responsibility square on his shoulders. Familiar. Could Kent have survived such a long trek down the raging Red Thunder?

The face on the screen joined the haunted memories preying on his mind, overlapping, morphing one into the other, mocking him. Kent, Ellen, anger, so much anger.

“Pajackok? What’s wrong?”

When Nina had found him his broken jaw had made him unable to talk. She’d renamed him Pajackok, the Algonquian word for thunder. She’d told him he was all thunder and no lightning. Told him she’d help him find his spark. He’d done his best to discourage her care but she’d ignored him.

She still didn’t know about Ellen, about his brother, about the damage he’d done with one raw burst of anger.

Pajackok…Kevin Ransom. Both lies.

If he’d changed his name, maybe Kent had, too, and given himself a second chance. Kent hadn’t been happy in Ashbrook but he’d been the responsible one, and those self-imposed responsibilities had weighed him down and cemented him into place. Would he have welcomed the chance at freedom?

Could it be? Could Kevin have avoided all of this torture if he’d just had the courage to face the consequences of his actions? Was Kent alive?

“Pajackok?”

To reassure Nina, Kevin strained to find a smile. The gesture was shallow and didn’t linger long on his lips. The spot of warmth on his heart for his adoptive grandmother grew cold in the shade of guilt and shame from his memories. For Nina’s sake he swallowed them back and forced another smile. “Nothing, Grandmother.”

Despite her shortness of breath she laughed, shaking a finger at him. “Nothing translates to everything when you say it that way.”

“Sometimes, I wish you weren’t so good at reading my mind.”

“Not your mind, Pajackok, your face.”

He ran a hand over the scars that landscaped his cheeks like a dropped puzzle. The ugliness was his due.

“Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to guess?” she insisted on a wheeze.

“I’m worried about you.”

She nodded and looked away. “I’m going home tonight.”

“No, don’t say that.” Sitting on the edge of the bed he took her frail hand in his.

“It’s time.” Her eyes implored understanding. “This robe no longer fits. It’s so heavy.”

He didn’t want to hear this, didn’t want to lose her.

Her gaze once again sought the flowers swaying in the breeze, then searched the hills fading into darkness. “Take me to the ranch. I want to see the stars rising over the mountains.”

“Grandmother…”

She tugged at the tubes dangling from her nose, then swept the room with a hand. “This is not my wish.”

Dying, a stranger among strangers. He couldn’t blame her. She’d wandered all of her life, picking up bits and pieces of Native American philosophy along the way. He wasn’t sure what kind or if she even had any Indian blood. All he knew was that because of Nina he’d learned to make peace with most of his demons and had found a noble purpose in life. If she wanted to “shed her robe” watching the evening stars rise over the mountains, who was he to deny her her final wish?

“It’s those damn cigarettes of yours.” Gritting back a flash of anger, he strode to the closet and yanked her purple jacket off the hanger.

“Pah! Cigarettes, whiskey, demons. They all get you in the end. I’ve had a long walk on the good Red Road. I have no regrets. It’s just the start of another circle, Pajackok.”

“I know.” She’d told him enough stories about life and circles and connections. Hanging on to her when she was in such pain was selfish. But he still needed her wisdom, still needed her friendship…still needed her love.

He supported her as they walked down the corridor, wheeling the oxygen bottle behind them. She greeted everyone with a smile. Despite his silent plea, no one tried to stop her. In his truck, he tucked a clean horse rug around her knees and switched the heat to high to keep her warm.

On the hill overlooking the grazing horses she’d raised, a peace he hadn’t seen for months came over her face. In the moonlight the horses were nothing more than dark shapes, moving slowly to the rhythm of their hunger. She sat and motioned for him to join her.

“This is a good place,” Nina said.

“You should have bought your own ranch years ago.” He tucked the blanket around her knees and lifted the hood of her coat onto her head.

“I didn’t feel the need.” She stared at the sky as if it were a gazing ball. “Do the demons still visit you at night?”

Her question took him by surprise and he found the denial strangling in his throat. How could she possibly know about the demons?

“Honor me, son of my heart, by having the courage to go back to your roots and heal your past. Only in that way will you find your peace.”

She was pulling all the strings she’d carefully lain over the years. Honor, discipline, connection, respect. They were the touchstones of her life, her guiding principles, and she’d quietly instilled them in him. He would give his own lungs to see her live, but he couldn’t go back to Texas. Not with the memories of Kent and Ellen tearing him up inside. What could he say to either of them to make them understand the depth of his regret?

He shook his head. “Grandmother, I honor you, b—”

“Good, I’m glad that’s settled. I didn’t want to go home until I was certain you would follow the right path.”

“The horses—”

“Stanley Black Bear will take care of them until you’re ready to let go. When you do, he’s promised to give you a good price for the ranch.”

“I couldn’t sell this place.”

“Not today, but soon.”

He said nothing. Arguing with her was useless. She was too damn stubborn.

“I’m not leaving you.” She placed a gnarled hand against her heart, then covered his own with it. A pulse of energy passed between them. “Soon you will be my heart. I will be with you always in your heartbeat, in your son’s heartbeat, in your daughter’s heartbeat.”

She was wrong. For him there would be no son, no daughter. Once he’d shared dreams of a family with Ellen. They’d mapped out a whole future filled with horses and children…and love. But those dreams had died on the river sixteen years ago. The void stirred an eddy of sorrow in his heart.

Nina dug into the worn leather pouch she carried at her waist and brought out what looked like a piece of bone. “This is for you.”

He took the bone and saw Nina had carved and painted it into an eagle feather. On the upper right side she’d emblazoned a medicine wheel. “Protection from your demons until you can let them go.”

“Grandmother…” He gazed at the feather-shaped stone in the palm of his hand and fought the burning itch scratching the back of his eyes. The feelings wound so tight inside him wouldn’t form into thought, into words.

“Oh, look, Pajackok, the midnight star is here. Do you hear its song?”

He realized then that he didn’t need to say anything. She already knew his heart better than he did. He sat by her and held her close. With her he watched the midnight star until she shed her robe.

Then, not knowing quite where the consciousness to do so had come from, he sang her spirit home.

THREE DAYS LATER, to honor Nina and all she’d done for him, Kevin headed south and east.

His brother was alive. He had to find him. He had to humble himself and ask for forgiveness. Only then could he stop working so hard at trying to forget the brother he thought he’d killed and the woman he’d loved too much.

“HE CAN’T DO THIS!” Ellen Paxton steamed her way to the sheriff’s desk and slapped the letter down on the blotter. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, colors faded, shapes blurred. She blinked madly, trying to control the body doing its damnedest to remind her of her weakened state. “There wasn’t even a hearing. I didn’t get to speak for the horses.”

And speaking for the horses had become her obsession. She was shaking so badly that, when Chance eased her down into a chair, she couldn’t fight him.

“Now take a deep breath,” he said, “and start from the beginning.”

Hanging on to the collar of Chance’s tan uniform shirt she dragged in a breath and blew it out. Chance was the law in Gabenburg but he was also her friend. If he could help her, he would. “This guy shows up with a trailer and gives me this letter and insists on taking the horses back. They’re nowhere near ready to leave.”

Mentally and physically scarred, the half-dozen horses she’d rescued from the highway wreck were in no shape to travel anywhere. She’d used up a day’s worth of energy sending Bancroft’s errand boy on his way, but she wasn’t stupid enough to think that would end the situation. The weight of that exhaustion finally caught up with her. Her hands fell back onto her lap. “What was the judge thinking?”

“Let me take a look,” Chance said. He leaned his backside against the desk and read the letter.

A ceiling fan stirred the air-conditioned air, keeping the sheriff’s office cool in spite of the June heat blazing outside. Fluorescent light poured from an overhead fixture, drenching the room in white. The muted sounds of radio chatter crackled from a unit behind Chance’s desk. A wanted poster, along with half a dozen notices, were tacked on a corkboard above a bank of black file cabinets. Wire baskets and folders kept everything on the desk contained and neat.

The only thing in the room that added a touch of personality was the portrait of Chance’s family. His wife, Taryn, and his daughter, Shauna, smiled at him from a quilt spread on the grass behind their home.

A pinch of jealousy tweaked at her heart but she brushed it aside. Chance deserved his happiness.

She’d once dreamed of raising horses and babies with her high-school sweetheart, but Kyle was dead, and she was relearning to live. Rubbing the heel of her hand on her chest, she erased the edge of sadness creeping around her heart. Her body’s betrayal made babies unlikely. Besides, the horses were almost more than she could handle.

She glanced at her watch. She flipped her braid behind her back. She rubbed a hand on the thigh of her jeans. Chance’s care was a quality she admired but today his slow reading of the judge’s writ was driving her crazy.

“You’re holding the man’s property,” Chance said finally, letting the letter fall to the desktop. “He wants it back.”

“The horses are too weak to travel.” Her hackles were going up. They did so much too easily since she’d come back to herself. Impatience, not temper. So much wasted time. She couldn’t abide to squander a minute more than she had to.

“Judge Dalton seems to think they’re strong enough.”

Chance’s keen dark eyes were studying her. Irritation twitched her foot into a jittery dance. “But he didn’t give me a chance to show him they aren’t. How can this happen?”

Chance gave a slow shake of his head. “Influence.”

Her stomach churned. Influence had kept her a prisoner in a nursing home for fifteen years. Influence had nearly cost Chance and Taryn their lives a year ago. All because of one man’s greed. Now someone else’s greed was willing to sacrifice six horses who’d gone through hell just for the sake of convenience.

The unfairness of it all was enough to make her want to roar. She swallowed back her outrage. “How can I fight this?”

“Let it go, Ellen.”

Her mouth gaped open. “After all you’ve been through, I thought you’d understand. I thought I could count on you.”

“Ellen—”

“I can’t let it go.” Her voice cracked and her vision was blurring again. “They deserve a voice.” Just as she had.

Chance pushed himself off the desk, scrubbed a hand through his hair, then faced her once again. “I know they mean a lot to you, but they’re not yours. I can’t do anything but follow the law.”

“They’ve been abused.”

“There’s no way to prove that.”

“All it would take is one visit by the judge to see how bad off they are.”

Like a soldier about to face a firing squad, Chance stood ramrod straight. “There’s the other side, Ellen.”

“What other side?”

He hesitated.

“Just spit it out, Chance. I’ve wasted too much time already to worry about couching words because you’re afraid I’m not strong enough to handle them.”

He nodded. “You’ve come a long way in a year—”

“But.”

“But you’re still weak. After fifteen years of near vegetation, you’re expecting too much of yourself. You’re still going to physical therapy. You can’t operate at one hundred percent.”

She gaped at him. “You don’t think I can handle taking care of the horses?”

“You’ve got three of your own, plus these six—”

Fisting her hands by her side, she jumped up. “Wait a min—”

“Now let me finish.” He held up a hand. “All of these horses have special needs. I think that’s a load too heavy for anybody, let alone for someone in your position.”

Her mind reeled at the possibility of losing the horses due to her own weakness. “So what, you expect me to just let them go and say, hey, sorry I can’t take care of you, so goodbye and good luck? I’ve been taking care of them for nearly a week. I’m handling the work just fine.”

He cocked his head, a dead-serious look on his face. “You asked me to shoot straight.”

“And you did,” she acknowledged, bracing herself for the next attack.

“You spend half your life in the sunshine and you look as pale as the moon. You don’t just look tired, you look downright exhausted. You’ve lost weight when you should be gaining. If you don’t start taking care of yourself, none of these horses will be able to count on you.”

With that, he’d hit her rawest nerve. She stumbled back a step, losing all her fury. He was right. If she did run herself ragged, the horses would have no one to give them voice.

“There’s also the question of space,” Chance said. “You’ve got eight stalls and nine horses.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got two that won’t come inside. I’ve got enough pasture for them all. I’ve got two corrals, a ring and I’m working on a round pen—”

“You’re not digging holes and lugging lumber on your own, are you?”

She jutted her chin, straightened her stance. “I’m doing what I have to do.”

“Ellen…”

He reached for her shoulders. She shrugged off his hold.

“So, how do I resolve this? I’m not going to let the horses go. Not while they still need care.”

Chance blew out a long breath and squeezed the nape of his neck. “Tell you what, you hire yourself a hand and I’ll talk Judge Dalton into taking a look-see at your operation.”

The pinprick of escalating panic stampeded through her. Shaking her head, she said, “Chance, you know how I feel about the ranch.”

“It’s non-negotiable. You want my help, you’ve got to give me something to work with.” He offered her his hand. “Deal?”

This wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t have anybody looking, watching…reporting. She couldn’t do it. Not after having no choice in the matter for fifteen years.

But if you don’t, she reminded herself, you’ll lose the horses and they need you.

“This way, you’ll at least get the chance to convince the judge you can handle the load.”

For fifteen years she was forced into silence, drugged against her will, kept a prisoner in her own body by a man who cared nothing about her. She’d had no voice, no one to fight for her. Stuck in the prison of her mind all she’d had for company was the nightmarish image of Kent and Kyle drowning in the river, of her dreams dying with them. Only in the collection of crystal horses catching rainbows of light on the dresser had she found a ray of hope. Horses had kept her fighting for her life.

She had to keep fighting for the horses. They were voiceless. They needed her. Not Bancroft. Not Chance. Not the judge. No one would stop her from seeing them healthy again. She couldn’t let them down.

She took Chance’s hand and reluctantly shook it hard once. “Deal.”

The phone rang. She spun on her heels and strode to the door. Rubbing the wrist that held her watch she cursed Garth Ramsey for marrying her when she couldn’t object, for stealing nearly half her life. She cursed Brad Bancroft for his careless disregard for his animals’ needs. She cursed her body for betraying her when she needed it most.

But all the cursing in the world wasn’t going to change the facts. It hadn’t saved Kyle. It hadn’t brought him back to life. And over the past year if she’d learned anything, it was to face the facts before her no matter how unpleasant they were.

“Well, shoot,” she muttered as she plowed through the sheriff’s office door.

For the horses she was going to have to hire help. And having someone trespass on her sanctuary was going to feel like being under glass all over again.

Chapter Two

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.

Chapter Three

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.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.