by Nora Roberts
red-faced and sweaty and your breath was puffing like a bad engine. I couldn’t stand it. I just couldn’t. And if you’d just gone in like I asked you, it would’ve been fine.”
“It was hot,” he said, but his voice was weak now, and a little ashamed.
“I know it was hot. Goddamn it, Ham, that’s the point. Why’d you make me push you that way? I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Billy. I just wanted you to get out of the sun. I know who my father was,” she said furiously, and made his head come up, his eyes meet hers again. “And I haven’t buried him yet. Not the one who really counted when I needed him to count. I don’t want to bury him for a long time.”
“I could’ve finished.” He bumped his toe on the rail, stared at it. “Hell, Will, I was making the boy do most of the work. I know my limits.”
“I need you here.” She waited for her system to calm again. “I need you, Ham. I’m asking you to stay.”
He moved his shoulders, kept his eyes on his feet. “I guess I got no place better to be. I shouldn’ta bucked you. I guess I knew you were thinking of me.” He shifted his feet, cleared his throat. “You’re doing a fine job around here, all in all. I’m, ah . . . I’m proud of you.”
And that’s why he was the one who counted, she thought. The father of her blood had never said those words to her. “I can’t do it alone. You want to come in?” She opened the door again. “Have some of that peach ice cream. You can tell me all the things I’m doing wrong.”
He scratched his beard. “Maybe. I guess there’s a few things I could straighten you out on.”
W HEN HE LEFT, HIS BELLY WAS FULL AND HIS HEART considerably lighter. He strolled toward the bunkhouse, light of step. He heard the sounds, the disturbed braying of cattle, the click of boot heels.
Who the hell was on guard duty? He couldn’t quite place it. Jim or Billy, he thought, and decided to wander over to check things out.
“That you, Jim? Billy? What are you playing with the penned head for this time of night?”
He saw the calf first, bleeding, eyes rolling in fear and pain. He’d taken two running steps before he saw the man rise up out of the shadows.
“What the devil’s this? What the hell have you done?”
And he knew, before he saw the knife arch up, but there was no time to scream.
The panic came first. With the knife dripping in his hand, he stared down at Ham, the blood. Wiped a hand over his mouth. He’d just needed a quick fix, that was all. One calf. He’d meant to drag it away from the ranch yard, but the knife had just leaped into his hand.
And now Ham. He’d never meant to hurt Ham. Ham had trained him, worked with him, paid attention when attention needed to be paid. He’d always felt Ham had known the truth about where he’d come from and who he was.
And Ham was loyal.
But now there was no choice. It had to be finished. He crouched down, prepared, just as Willa rushed out of the night.
“Ham? Is that you? I forgot to tell you about the—” Her boots skidded. Lightning flashed, bursting light onto the men all but at her feet. “Oh, sweet God, what happened to him? What happened?” She was already on her knees, turning him over into her arms. “Did he—” And there was blood on her hands.
“I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry.” He turned the knife on her, held it to her throat. “Don’t call out. I don’t want to hurt you. I swear I don’t want to hurt you.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m your brother.”
And bringing his fist up, he knocked her cold.
H AM WOKE TO PAIN. FIERY, BLINDING PAIN. HE COULDN’T pinpoint it, couldn’t find the source, but he tasted blood in his mouth. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but couldn’t move his legs. He turned his head, saw that the calf had bled out. Its eyes were dead.
Soon, he thought, he’d bleed out too.
There was something else on the ground that caught his eye. He stared at it a long time, watched it come and go as his vision cleared and blurred. Then hissing, he crawled toward it, brushed the tip with his fingers.
Willa’s hat.
H E HAD TO CARRY HER. HE SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR A rig, knew he should have, but he’d been so shaken he hadn’t been able to think clearly. Now he laid her as gently as he could on the ground near the pasture and with a trembling hand rattled a bucket of oats.
They’d go on horseback. It was probably best. He wanted to get her away, into the hills a ways so that he could explain everything to her. She’d understand once he had.
Blood was thicker than water.
He saddled the paint pony that nosed into the bucket, then the roan that tried to nuzzle through.
Oh, he hated to do it, even temporarily, but he tied Willa’s hands, tied her feet, then strapped her across the saddle. She’d come to shortly, he thought, and she’d try to get away before he could explain.
She had to understand. He prayed she’d understand as he vaulted into the saddle, took both pairs of reins. If she didn’t, he’d have to kill her.
Thunder stalked closer as he rode into the hills.
H AM CLUTCHED THE HAT IN HIS HAND. STAGGERED TO his feet. He managed two drunken steps before he went to his knees. He called out, and though his voice boomed in his ears, it was barely a whisper.
He thought of Willa, hardly more than a baby with a milky mouth, grinning at him as he plopped her into the saddle in front of him. A little girl, all braids and eyes, begging him to let her ride out to pasture with him. An adolescent, gawky as a colt, running wire with him and chattering his ears off.
And the woman who had looked at him tonight, her heart in her eyes when she’d told him he was the one who counted.
So he bit back the pain that was eating through him like cancer and fought his way to his feet again.
He could see the main house, the lights in the windows circling in front of his eyes. Blood dripped through his fingers and onto her hat. He didn’t feel the ground when it jumped up to meet him.
S HE CAME TO SLOWLY, HER JAW THROBBING. HER EYES focused on the ground bumping and falling beneath her. She tried to shift, found herself snugly secured, lying across the saddle with her head dangling. She must have moaned, or made some sound, for the horses stopped quickly.
“It’s okay, Will. You’re okay.” He loosed the straps, the restraints on her legs, but kept her hands secured. “Need to ride a little further. Can you handle it?”
“What?” Still groggy, she felt herself lifted, then she was sitting in the saddle, shaking her head to clear it while her hands were strapped tight to the horn.
“You just catch your breath. I’ll lead your horse.”
“What are you doing?” It leaped back into her mind but refused to root there. “Ham?”
“Couldn’t help it. Just couldn’t help it. We’ll talk this through. You just—” He broke off, dragging her down by the hair when she sucked in her breath. “Don’t you scream. Nobody’s going to hear you, but I don’t want you screaming.” Mumbling to himself, he tugged out his bandanna, tied it quickly over her mouth. “I’m sorry I have to do it this way, but you just don’t understand yet.”
Trying not to be angry with her, he strode back to his horse, swung on, and rode into the trees.
W ELL, WILLA HAD MISSED HER SWIM, TESS THOUGHT AS she tied the belt of a short terry robe. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it back and wandered out of the pool house toward the kitchen.
Probably still sulking, she decided. Willa took everything in and worried over it. It might be a good idea to try to teach her a few relaxation techniques—though Tess couldn’t quite visualize Willa meditating or experimenting with imaging.
Rain would make her happy, Tess supposed. Lord, everyone around here lived their life by the weather. Too wet, too dry. Too cold, too hot. Well, in two months, she would say farewell, scenic Montana, and hello, LA.
Lunch alfresco, she mused. Cartier’s. God knew, she deserved to treat herself to some ridiculously expensive bauble after this yearlong b
anishment from the real world.
The theater. Palm trees. Traffic-choked highways and the familiar haze of smog.
God bless Hollywood.
Then she pouted a little because it didn’t sound quite as wonderful as it had a month before. Or a month before that.
No, she’d be glad to get back. Thrilled. She was just feeling broody, that was all. Maybe she’d buy a place up in the hills rather than on the beach, though. She could have a horse up there, and the trees, the grass. That would be the best of both worlds, after all. A brisk, exciting drive from the excitement and crowds of the city home to the pleasure she’d come to enjoy of the country.
Well, not exactly country, by Montana standards, but the Hollywood hills would do just fine.
She could probably persuade Nate to come out and visit. Off and on. Their relationship would fade after a while. She expected and, damn it, accepted that. So would he. This wild idea of his to have her settle down here, get married, and start breeding was ridiculous.
She had a life in LA. A career. She had plans, big, juicy plans. She would be thirty-one years old in a matter of weeks, and she wasn’t tossing those plans aside at this stage of her life to be a ranch wife.
Any kind of a wife.
She wished she had brought down a cigarette, but she swung into the kitchen in search of other stimulation.
“You’ve had your share of ice cream.”
Tess wrinkled her nose at Bess’s back. “I didn’t come in for ice cream.” Though she would have enjoyed one or two spoonfuls. She went to the refrigerator, took out a pitcher of lemonade.
“You been skinny-dipping again?”
“Yep. You ought to try it.”
Bess’s mouth twitched at the idea. “You put that glass in the dishwasher when you’re finished. This kitchen’s clean.”
“Fine.” Tess plopped down at the table, eyed the catalogue Bess was thumbing through. “Shopping?”
“I’m thinking. Lily might like this here bassinet. The one we used for you girls wasn’t kept after Willa. He got rid of it.”
“Oh.” It was an interesting thought, the idea of her and Lily and Willa sharing something as sweet as a baby bed. “Oh, it’s adorable.” Delighted, Tess scraped her chair closer. “Look at the ribbons in the skirt.”
Bess slanted her eyes over. “I’m buying the bassinet.”
“All right, all right. Oh, look, a cradle. She’d love a cradle, wouldn’t she? One to sit by your chair and rock.”
“I expect she would.”
“Let’s make a list.”
Bess’s eyes softened considerably and she pulled out a pad she’d stuck under the catalogue. “Got one started already.”
They made cooing noises over mobiles and stuffed bears, argued briefly over the right kind of stroller. Tess rose to get them both more lemonade, then glanced at the kitchen door when she heard footsteps.
“I wasn’t expecting anyone,” she whispered, her nervous hand going to her throat.
“Me either.” Calm as ice, Bess pulled her pistol out of her apron pocket and, standing, faced the door. “Who’s out there?” When the face pressed against the screen, she laughed at herself. “God Almighty, Ham, you nearly took a bullet. You shouldn’t be sneaking around this time of night.”
He fell through the door, right at her feet.
The pistol clattered as it hit the table. Tess was on the floor with her before Bess could lift Ham’s head in her lap. “He’s bleeding bad here. Get some towels, press them down hard.”
“Bess . . .”
“Quiet now. Let’s see what’s what here.”
Tess ripped the shirt aside and pressed down hard on the wound. “Call for an ambulance, a helicopter. He needs help quickly.”
“Wait.” Ham grabbed for Bess’s hand. “He’s got . . .” He squeezed until he could find the breath to speak again. “He’s got her, Bessie. He’s got our Will.”
“What?” Straining to hear, Tess pushed her face close. “Who has Will?”
But he was unconscious. When her eyes lifted, latched onto Bess’s, they were ripe with fear. “Call the police. Hurry.”
H E WAS READY TO STOP NOW. HE’D CIRCLED, backtracked, followed a stream down its center, then moved onto rock. He had no choice but to tether the horses, but he kept them close.
Willa watched his every move. She knew the hills, and he wouldn’t find the hunt easy even if she had to go on foot once she got loose.
He hauled her down first, retied her ankles. After getting his rifle, he sat across from her, laid it across his lap. “I’m going to take the gag off now. I’m sorry I had to use it. You know it won’t do any good to scream. They may come after us, but not for a while, and I covered the trail.”
He reached over, put his hand on the cotton. “We’re just going to talk. Once you hear me out, we’ll get back to the way things were.” He tugged the gag down.
“You murdering bastard.”
“You don’t mean that. You’re upset.”
“Upset?” Fury carried her, had her pulling furiously to try to break her bonds. “You killed Ham. You killed all the others. You slaughtered my cattle. I’ll kill you with my own hands if I get the chance.”
“Ham was an accident. I’m as fond of him as I can be, but he saw me.” Like a boy caught with the shards of a cookie jar at his feet, he lowered his head. “The cattle was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that to you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re—” She shut her eyes, balled her helpless hands into fists. “Why? Why have you done these things? I thought I could trust you.”
“You can. I swear you can. We’re blood, Willa. You can trust your own blood.”
“You’re no blood of mine.”
“Yes, I am.” He knuckled a tear away, such was his joy in being able to tell her. “I’m your brother.”
“You’re a liar and a murderer and a coward.”
His head snapped up, his hand flew out. The sting of flesh striking flesh sang up his arm, and he regretted it immediately. “Don’t say things like that. I got my pride.”
He rose, paced, worked himself back under control. Things didn’t go well when you lost control, he knew. But stay in charge, stay on top, and you could handle anything that came along.
“I’m as much your brother as Lily and Tess are your sisters.” He said it calmly as the sky split and fractured with swords of electric light. “I want to explain things to you. I want to make you see why I did what I did.”
“Fine.” The side of her face burned like hellfire. He’d pay for that too, she promised herself. He would pay for everything. “Okay, Jim, explain it to me.”
B EN SLAMMED HIS RIFLE INTO ITS SHEATH, SNAGGED HIS gunbelt, strapped it on. The .30 carbine he shot into the holster was a brute of a revolver, and he wanted a mean gun. He wouldn’t allow himself to feel, or he might sink shaking to his knees. He could only allow himself to move.
Men were saddling up fast, with Adam shouting orders. Ben wasn’t giving any orders, not this time. Nor was he taking them. He took Willa’s hat, gave it to Charlie to scent. “You find her,” he murmured. “You find Willa.” Stuffing the hat in his saddlebag, he swung into the saddle.
“Ben.” Tess grabbed the bridle. “Wait for the others.”
“I’m not waiting. Move aside, Tess.”
“We can’t be sure where—or who.” Though there was only one man missing.
“I’ll find the where. I don’t have to know who.” He jerked his horse’s head out of her grip. “I just have to kill him.”
Tess raced over to Adam, put both arms around Lily, and held tight. “Ben rode off. I couldn’t stop him.”
Adam merely nodded, gave the signal to ride. “He knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry.” Turning, he embraced them both. “Go inside,” he told Lily, and laid his hand on her gently rounded belly. “Wait. And don’t worry.”
