“What is it?” Leo came closer, leaned over to click on the bedside table lamp.
She blinked into the dim light, saw him standing there in nothing but a pair of plaid pajama bottoms. She’d thought him beautiful fully clothed. Now, staring at the well-developed muscles of his chest, the way his toned, sculpted body tapered down to the tempting sight of chiseled hip bones...it was all she could do not to reach out and touch him. If only to prove he was real.
“Jane? Did you remember something?” He sat on the edge of her bed. Not in a particularly comforting way. In fact, he seemed determined to keep some distance between them. Not at all like he’d enveloped her in his grandfather’s study the other day. The way she wanted him to envelop her now. “Jane?”
“I...don’t know. It was all shadows and night. I was in a car. My car. He broke the window to get to me. Wrenched the door open. I tried to get away but the seat belt...” She trailed off, lifted the blankets off her bare stomach and stared down at the red-turned-pink welts marring her skin.
“What the... Jane, why didn’t you say anything about these?” He was back on his feet, turned on the overhead light and returned to the bed to examine the bruising. His fingers brushed featherlight over her skin. Jane shivered. And not from the cold. She felt so good when he touched her. “You could have broken or bruised a rib.”
“It’s not that bad,” she argued. But now she knew where the marks came from. She stretched out her ankle where the shadows of finger impressions had formed over the past day. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
“It hurts me,” Leo whispered. “Jane, darlin’, why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I didn’t know how they got there.” She pushed his hand away and tucked herself back into the covers. “But I guess I do now.” But the answers, however vague, didn’t make her feel any better. If anything, she felt worse. “I don’t want to remember, Leo.” She didn’t want to ever feel that terror again, that gut-wrenching fear that continued to surge through her body even minutes after the dream had ended. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“You don’t owe me an apology, Jane. But you do need to talk to me. You need to get this out. The more you do—”
“The more I do, the more real it becomes.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. “There’s nothing new, Leo. I still don’t know my name or where I’m from or who I belong to. There’s nothing except this mind-numbing terror that only gets worse.”
“Okay. So let’s talk about that.” He started to sit down, but she held up her hand, unable to look at him. “Let’s talk about going to the police.”
“No. I just want to go back to sleep. I just want to forget all over again.”
“This isn’t you talking, Jane.” But he remained standing. Remained at a distance.
“You don’t know that,” she choked out. “You don’t know anything about me. I may just be this sniveling coward afraid to face whatever happened to me out there.”
“I don’t believe that. And even if you were, I told you, we’re in this together. We’re going to find out who you are. Remember? I promised you that.”
“And what if I don’t want to find out?” This wasn’t the first time she’d considered the option. And right now, it certainly sounded most appealing.
“I don’t believe you.” Hands planted on his hips, he stared down at her and for the first time since she’d met him, she realized he saw too much. All the broken parts inside her that she didn’t want him to see. “You aren’t a coward, Jane. You’re a fighter, remember? And whatever it is you have to face down, you’re going to do it. And I’m going to be right there with you.”
“You say that as if it’s your decision.” Great. Now she sounded like a whiny five-year-old.
Leo just looked at her. “It’s three in the morning, Jane. Do you know what time that is?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a trick question?”
His lips twitched. “Kind of. My father called it the hour of the tiger. When one day fades into the other. When the barrier between what was and what will be is caught, for a thin amount of time. It’s when all those thoughts, all those fears, all the insecurities we struggle against during our waking hours come out to play. That’s what you’re feeling right now, Jane. Which is why I don’t believe you when you say you don’t want to know what happened to you. You do want to know. You need to know. And so do I.” He leaned over and stroked his hand down the side of her face.
For a moment, one breathless, heart-stopping moment, she thought he might kiss her. She held her breath, licked her suddenly dry lips as she saw his face come closer to hers. Anticipation knotted in her stomach. Her hands loosened on the blankets that fell away and exposed the straps of her bra and the swell of her breasts. “Leo,” she whispered.
“Starting tomorrow, we leave the fear behind. Both of us. You have to know who you are, Jane. I have to know who you are. If for no other reason than it’ll give me permission to kiss you the way you’re silently begging me to right now.”
She whimpered as he leaned forward. But instead of pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her on the forehead. Chaste. Tender. Gentle.
All the things she didn’t want.
“I’ll leave the door open,” he murmured against her skin. Any response froze behind her lips. “And Ollie.” He broke off as the dog hopped up on the bed. “He’s been waiting to do that all night. Get some more sleep, Jane. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”
He left her bedroom without a look back. Jane glanced at the table lamp, then at the dog before she slid back down in bed, Ollie shifting closer to curl himself around her legs.
“If I can’t have him, you aren’t a bad second choice,” she whispered, and reached down to pet the dog. Ollie sighed.
And Jane drifted back to sleep.
* * *
“That there is Ginger.” Trapper’s voice carried a surprising hint of reverence as he introduced Jane to the horses the next morning. “Of the four, well, five including Spectacle, she’s the calmest. Takes a lot to rile her up.”
“She’s stunning.” Ginger sniffed the small green apple in Jane’s palm before plucking it free to eat. “How old is she?” Jane couldn’t stop herself from moving closer and brushing the backs of her fingers against the side of the horse’s face. Big black eyes blinked down at her as Ginger turned her head slightly as if to get a better look at Jane. Her silky mane spilled forward and brushed the woman’s hand.
“Going on ten.” Trapper was bopping around the stable gathering up items and lining them up on a narrow table situated between Ginger and Duke’s stalls. “Horses are excellent judges of character. They’re like dogs that way. They see who you really are underneath all the pretense and pessimism.”
“Are you a pessimist?” Jane joked, unable to tear herself away from Ginger even as she glanced back to where Ollie had taken up guard duty by the door. All of the horses in Leo’s care were stunning, and even after a few minutes she could sense distinct personalities. Duke, the largest of the two stallions, had an air of aristocracy or at least leadership about him. Ginger here—Jane couldn’t stop stroking her—the calm voice of reason. Then there was Bullet, aptly named, Trapper declared, as the young’un would run as far and as fast as possible given half the chance. Lastly, the smallish black mare who preferred the back corner of her stall had been named Teyla, after one of Leo’s favorite TV characters.
“Pessimist? Me?” Trapper cackled. “What do you think? You ever care for horses before?”
“I don’t think so.” She answered the question so naturally, so automatically, it took her a moment to realize Trapper was testing her.
The old man grunted and shifted a strapped brush toward her, motioned for her to pick it up.
“You don’t believe me.” She slipped the strap over her hand, gripped the brush with her palm.
“That gen
tle a touch with no hesitation? You’ve been around horses at some point. Take my word for it. Go on. Give her neck a good brushing. Both sides. Then we’ll bring her out and you can take care of the rest.”
Jane bit her cheek, irritated and curious at Trapper’s words. Obviously Leo’s old friend had no idea what it was like to move through the day with a big blank spot in your brain, as if something she saw, heard or smelled would suddenly fill the gap. It wasn’t until she’d fully woken up this morning that she realized she’d been hoping last night’s nightmare would have jarred something loose. That somehow she’d open her eyes and her past would have filled itself in.
Instead, she’d lain there, staring up at the ceiling, trying to see beyond the spinning lights, the shadows and the clawed hand gripping her ankle. Rather than memories, she’d pushed out of bed with an odd blanket of fear still draped over her shoulders. A fear she was determined to dislodge one way or the other.
Leo was right. With the morning had come reason. Cowering under the covers and hiding wasn’t going to move her life forward. Whatever else she didn’t know about herself, instinct told her she was not a woman who let anything other than her own will dictate how her life would go.
“You believe me, don’t you, Ginger?” Jane fell into a steady rhythm of brushing as she held the horse’s face with her other hand. “If I could remember I would.” At least...she thought so.
A few minutes later, Trapper unlatched the stall door and clicked his tongue, gesturing for Jane to lead the horse out. Once the horse stood, secured with cross-ties, in the center aisle, he pointed to its flanks. “Keep going.”
Jane’s hand was already cramped, but she found something soothing about the brushing. Ginger must have agreed because she barely moved as the soft bristles were pushed through her soft, short coat. Jane’s mind cleared. The pressure that had been building in her chest over the last few days eased, and she found herself humming softly as she swept the brush over every inch of her charge. Soon, the minutes faded away and all that mattered was the moment.
A car door slammed outside. “Hello! Anyone here?”
Jane froze, her entire body going tight as she swung around to where Trapper stood. He inclined his head, held out a hand, pressed a finger to his lips. Then he walked out of the stable.
Ginger whinnied and took a step back. Jane moved closer to the horse, then, hearing the low rumble of voices outside, pushed curiosity through the fear. She set the brush down and, as quietly as she could, went to the small square window near the door. Jane stayed out of sight, popping up only enough to peek outside through the bottom corner of the window. The dark SUV that had pulled up in front of the barn was covered in mud from its tires to its sunroof, which nearly obscured the gold-and-silver decal on the front windshield. The tall, muscular figure who was speaking with Trapper looked as cowboy as cowboy could get, from his brown Stetson all the way to his silver-tipped boots. He held a map in his hands and was pointing this way and that.
“Nah, you took a wrong turn down at the highway,” Trapper was telling him. “You go back out to this road, take it all the way down and fork off to the right. That’ll take you by the Dunhams’ place, but they’re used to folks cutting through. You’ll get to the highway about twenty miles after.”
“Great.” The man slapped the map against his hand so hard Jane jumped. He looked around, eyes narrowed like laser beams. “This is a lot of land to be running all by yourself. I might be looking to buy in the area. You interested in selling?”
“Nope.” Trapper’s sharp answer eased the pressure building in Jane’s chest.
The visitor shifted his attention to the stable. Jane dropped to the ground, pressed her forehead against her knees and tried to stop shaking. He was just lost, she told herself. Just looking for directions. Nothing more. She squeezed her eyes shut and rocked. Please let there be nothing more.
“No discussion, huh?” The man laughed, but Jane didn’t think he sounded amused. “I’ll be moving on, then. Appreciate the help.”
“Sure.”
Jane didn’t breathe again until the sound of the SUV’s engine faded in the distance.
“False alarm. Just some jackass—Jane?” Trapper stopped near Ginger. “Little miss, where have you gotten to?”
Jane uncurled and forced herself to her feet, clinging to the wall with fingers that dug into the wood so deep she got splinters under her nails. “Here.” She barely recognized her own voice.
“Heaven on earth, girlie. What are you doing over there?”
She let out a long, shuddering breath, and when she looked to the old man, saw he already knew the answer.
“Ain’t no one going to hurt you here, Jane. Leo gave you his word on that, and I’m giving you mine. You believe us, don’t you?”
She nodded. She had to. She didn’t have a choice.
“Good. Fear’s a right good thing.” He picked up her discarded brush and brought it over to her. “But it’ll overrun your life faster than a jackrabbit in hunting season. You good now?”
She nodded again then, at Trapper’s arched brow, added, “Yes.”
“Then git back to work. We’ve got stalls to clean.”
She accepted the brush and returned to Ginger, forcing herself to find that calm again, that peace, that had descended only moments before.
“Natural touch for sure.” Trapper approached with a pitchfork in each hand as if nothing had transpired. “Let’s get things cleaned up for her. You can attach her halter to the cross ties over there.” He motioned to an area just inside the back door of the stable. “Tomorrow you’ll be on your own with this routine. Once I see you can care for these animals, we’ll find out if you can ride.”
“Be still my heart,” Jane murmured to the horse. The horse let out a sound that to Jane sounded like a chuckle and bobbed her head. “You’re on my side, aren’t you, girl.” The late-morning breeze brushed against her cheeks, and she stood there, arm resting on Ginger’s flank, as she stared out at the Colorado splendor. A splendor that, no matter how hard she tried, didn’t trigger a solitary memory—only an overwhelming feeling of gratitude and satisfaction as the vestiges of fear evaporated.
“This is why you live out there, isn’t it?” She hadn’t meant to ask, but the idea of Trapper moving from land parcel to land parcel had at first seemed odd. Now, looking at the majestic beauty of the greens and yellows playing against that pristine, cloud-dotted sky, she almost understood. “It’s its own home, isn’t it? Without walls.”
Without borders or restraints. Without anything other than instinct and respect.
And yet it was here, on this ranch, where she felt most safe.
“Ain’t no better place like this in the world.” Trapper’s voice was softer than expected, and she looked over her shoulder to find him beside her. He’d cleaned up some since yesterday—trimmed his silver-streaked beard, combed his hair. Wore clean jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt, the same scuffed, weathered boots on his feet. Gone was the wild-looking mountain man. In his place was a curmudgeonly grandfather with a spark of defiance and a hint of humor in his gray eyes.
“I’ve done my fair share of traveling. Did my bit in the service back in the day. Army rangers. Leo’s grandfather, now, he was a navy man, but Leo’s pop? He upped into the army as soon as he could, much to Leo’s mama’s dismay. We might have had our differences, but the three of us all agreed, ain’t nothing like a Colorado view. Brought us all back. Led us home.” He inclined his chin toward a fenced section in the distance before the first hill rise. “They’re resting out there, beneath their sky. All of them but me.”
There was no mistaking the sadness she heard in Trapper’s voice, no matter how hard he cleared his throat.
“Leo’s spoken of his grandparents. And you.” Jane frowned. “But he’s never mentioned his dad.” An odd pang struck, and she pressed shaking fingers agains
t her sternum. Did she have parents? A family? People who were missing her? She didn’t know. Not for certain.
But if she had to rely on her feelings? On this odd longing hovering inside her? She’d have to say...
“Difficult topic, Leo’s folks.” Trapper coughed and shook his head. “And you might be able to charm one certain young man with that smile of yours, missy, but you won’t be pulling any family secrets out of me. You want to know about Leo’s pop, you’ll be asking him yourself. Now, let’s get back to work.”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t take his admonishment to heart. If anything, their conversation had endeared him to her. Trapper might be many things, among them cantankerous and ornery, but he was loyal to Leo. And that was something she couldn’t blame him for.
* * *
Leo couldn’t remember the last time someone waited for him to get home. All day he wondered if he’d find Jane sitting on the back porch, shelling fresh peas from the garden like his grandmother used to, rocking in the old chair he had yet to repaint and seal.
“Because the 1950s are calling,” Leo muttered to himself around a laugh. Why did he have the feeling if he mentioned that to Jane she’d dump said bowl of peas over his head?
Finding Trapper leaning against the back porch railing looking as if he’d swallowed an entire flock of canaries reminded him of the times he got caught sneaking in after curfew. Leo glanced up at the sky currently bathed in the promise of twilight. He wasn’t that late, was he?
“You done stalling?”
Leo felt his face go hot. “Why would I be stalling?”
“Hmm.” Trapper motioned for him to stop, and headed toward him. “Beautiful woman in your house, can’t imagine. Before you head inside,” Trapper said as Leo headed for the back door, “something you ought to know.”
“What? Did something happen? Is Jane all right?”
“Nothing like proving my point,” Trapper mumbled, and held up his hands at Leo’s growl of frustration. “She’s fine. Just, how did you put it? Spooked. Someone took a wrong turn, stopped for directions.”
Colton on the Run Page 8
