Legacy Lost

by Jillian David

  Crossing his arms, he dropped his head. “Yeah. About that.” He thumbed the brim of his hat up. “Shit, Shelby. I don’t know what to do to fix this situation. But I sure as hell am sorry that I hurt you.”

  “Me too.”

  His heart drummed in his chest. “Look, if you think we could and work through all of this stuff, I want to try.”

  He had to strain to hear her words. “I don’t know if this problem has a solution.”

  With a finger, he tilted her chin up until her gold and brown gaze slammed into his. “Don’t you want to see if it’s possible? I don’t want to give up. Not yet.” He concentrated to project only positive thoughts and only about Shelby.

  “I don’t want to give up, either. But . . .”

  He lowered his head until only a breath spanned the distance between them. “What’s the problem?”

  “I—”

  Moving the half inch forward, giving her time to pull away and relieved when she didn’t, he kissed her, while pouring as many strong feelings of affection, approval, and desire into the action. A few mental pictures of her screaming in pleasure beneath him wouldn’t hurt, either.

  He gripped her denim-clad hips as he fought the urge to pull her closer. He leaned back and ran his hands over her waist. “Please tell me we can talk about this when I get back from the trip. At least discuss things.”

  “I’ve never—” She swallowed. “I’ve never had this open a channel with anyone ever, and it scares the hell out of me. I can’t think with all the images from your brain going through mine. I can’t function.”

  He stroked her jaw and smiled. “At least you know honesty won’t be an issue from me.”

  “That’s the part I’m afraid of.”

  An imaginary fist twisted in his gut. “Do you think we have a chance?” Damn him, but her answer had more value to Eric than all the gold in the world.

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure what will happen if I continue to absorb those thoughts long term. Don’t know what it will do to my head.”

  “So, can we at least try?”

  She nodded. “Maybe.”

  “I’ll take it for now.”

  Dropping a kiss on her forehead, he made a conscious effort to step away, before ripping her clothes off right here in the kitchen and scooting her up on the countertop so he could . . .

  Shelby gasped. Her pupils had dilated. Right. Because she knew everything he was thinking.

  This could be fun. He’d have to be careful what he thought, but he could adjust the way his entire brain worked if that’s what it took to be with her.

  “Will you be here when I get back?”

  “Right here.” Shit, she panted.

  Just like he was starting to do.

  “Good.”

  As he stepped through empty space to pick up the cooler and head to the door, he half-turned back to her.

  And created the most fabulous, sexy, and insane image he could conjure up with Shelby playing a starring role.

  “Oh my Go—”

  He walked through the door and out to the guys waiting near the truck. The chilly air didn’t feel so cold right about now.

  Chapter 22

  After Eric and Kerr drove off with the hunters and the horse trailer in tow, the kitchen settled into silence. Shelby was accompanied by only her churning thoughts and the activity of stirring the soup.

  Ruth and Odie strolled into the kitchen as Shelby turned off the burner and rested the lid on top of the pot.

  “Hi,” she said to the couple.

  Why did she suddenly feel shy? The odd sense of having strangers in her house? Or was it something to do with these two in particular?

  They seemed so attuned to each other, walking in lock step, without seeming to notice. A tiny touch here, a glance there, and the low-level interest continued to bubble beneath the surface. Like they were two young kids in love.

  Only they weren’t kids. Judging by the gray coming in at Odie’s temples, he might be close to forty, and according to her employment application Ruth was in her mid-thirties. But they acted like newlyweds in many ways.

  Jealousy jabbed Shelby in the chest.

  Stop it.

  “Would you like some soup?” she managed to ask. Ruth was saving the family so much heartache. Possibly saving Dad’s life. The least Shelby could do was remain hospitable.

  “Yes, please,” Odie said as Ruth nodded.

  When they sat at the table, Odie freakin’ held out the chair for her, like he was a knight out of olden times and Ruth his princess.

  “Is Garrison coming?” Shelby asked.

  “Don’t think so. He said something about working on the books this afternoon and he had eaten earlier today.” Ruth put her full lips together. “He works very hard.” She glanced at Odie and another silent glance passed between those two. “You all do.”

  “Well, that’s ranch life for you,” she quipped. Damn it, quit being snippy to this woman.

  “Yes, well, we’re new to ranching, that’s all.”

  Odie smiled, his green eyes twinkling. Shelby could see how he would have charmed the socks off of Ruth. “I’m happy to help out, if you all need a hand.” He lifted a hand when his wife protested. “You know I can swing a hammer with the best of them. I might not be as young as you all, but I still have a lot of life left in this body.”

  He and Ruth chuckled, like he had made an inside joke.

  After another few minutes of eating lunch followed by an arch look from Ruth, Odie pushed back from the table, wiped his face once more on the napkin, and stood. “Délicieux. Thank you. You two ladies enjoy the rest of your meal. I’ll check on your dad and see if he’ll allow me to help him with a nice shave.” He winked and rubbed his beard as he left.

  His wife’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink.

  Shelby hadn’t had a chance to study Ruth much since they arrived. If she glanced out of the corner of her eye, the woman bore a passing resemblance to Mom. Must be the deep auburn hair or high cheekbones.

  Or wishful thinking.

  Shelby focused on the soup.

  “You look tired,” Ruth said. Her manner of speech was cultured, precise.

  “Are you always in nursing mode?”

  With a calm curve to her lips, like in an old timey picture, she said, “Are you always in fix-it mode?”

  Shelby rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Good point.”

  “Let’s say I have good . . . intuition . . . for how people feel. Can you imagine?”

  What the hell game was this woman playing? Shelby glanced up at Ruth’s direct gaze. Damn her suspicious mind—all Ruth had done was make conversation, and here Shelby suspected her of . . . what? Being nice?

  She cleared her throat. “I have an idea of intuition. Yes.”

  “My nurse’s intuition is good for patient care. Like with your dad, I’m getting a feel for how much I can push him. And when his stubborn nature kicks in and he digs in his heels and refuses to do any more, then we take a break.”

  “Sorry you discovered his ornery streak.”

  “I’m not sorry. It means he still has fight left in him, and I can build on that.”

  “Never thought of it that way.”

  “Stubbornness isn’t always a bad thing.” She winked. “Holy hell. If it were, I’d never want to be around Odie.” She took another sip of the soup, then set the spoon on the plate with a clink. “Sometimes being stubborn is the only thing that keeps us going.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well. When life gets tough, do you give up or do you keep plowing ahead, refusing to concede defeat?”

  Funny phrasing. “Refusing to concede fits most of us Taggarts to a T. No one gives up here.”

  Ruth’s answering chuckle relaxed her. It was like talking to a kind friend. Or a sweet aunt or something. Another déjà vu flash came and went. Weird.

  “Through my career, when I have encountered a tough patient, my own stubbornness becomes a bless
ing. Without it, I would give up on patients.” After dabbing the napkin on either side of her mouth, Ruth folded the paper in her lap.

  “Makes sense. Although I don’t get the impression that you’re a hardheaded person.”

  “Really? That’s funny. Don’t tell Odie!” She rested her hands on the table and laced her fingers together. “If the cause is just or if the need is present, I will fight for what I believe is right.” Her facial features became tight, closed. But still polite.

  “You make it sound pretty noble. Like a fight to the finish.”

  “Maybe.” A strange flicker of pain and loss crossed her face. She paused a few seconds and stared at Shelby. The perusal wasn’t uncomfortable but assessing. “That intuition I talked about?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve encountered . . . people . . . who could detect how others feel or think. In my travels, I’ve met individuals who could do so much more with their . . . intuition ability.”

  “And?” Why did it sound like she knew way more than she should about the Taggart gifts?

  “And each such person benefits from a healthy dose of stubbornness. The refusal to give up. The ability to find a creative solution to a problem.”

  “With their . . . intuition?”

  “If necessary.”

  “How?”

  “Intuition is another name for a gift that people have. Comes in many forms. Changes over the course of people’s lives. But what they don’t know is this: that gift can adapt to answer a dire need.”

  The hair rose on the back of Shelby’s neck. “I don’t follow where you’re going with this discussion.”

  Ruth pinned her with a hazel and gold gaze. Her eyes held a wise weight, like she’d had experience enough for several lifetimes. “You have a gift, right?”

  Her mouth went dry. “What are you talking about?”

  “Intuition, remember?”

  Something wasn’t right about this conversation. “I’m not so sure about that.”

  “All right, then, I’ll tell you. Your father might have mentioned about how he was proud of you all. He might have let the proverbial cat out of the bag and shared how each of his children has a special gift.”

  “Really? He spilled that info? He normally ignores our little quirks.”

  “I think they are far more than ‘quirks.’ And he couldn’t be prouder of you all.”

  “Um, I don’t know if that’s an accurate assessment.” Shelby blew back a curl.

  “I find it fascinating. Are there other people in your family with gifts like that?”

  “Think so. We have a bunch of cousins near Shelby, Montana. Get it? That’s how I got my name. Actually, all of us were named after a different town in Montana. That’s where Mom was from. Anyway, yes, there are a bunch of cousins in that area and some of them have some ‘quirks’ like we do.”

  “Interesting. And they know about you all here in Wyoming?”

  “As far as I know. We weren’t close, mostly a family reunion here and there over the years. All of us cousins ran around, getting in trouble while the adults sat in lawn chairs and caught up.”

  “That sounds delightful.” The intense gaze accompanied a wave of longing. Ruth, yearning for something? As soon as it started, it stopped. The woman’s face assumed a placid expression once more.

  What had Shelby missed? Something important, but darned if she knew what it was. “Um, so what did you mean about the gift adapting?”

  “Your ability—anyone’s—can change. It can exist in its normal state. But it can also be a shield or a weapon to suit the circumstance.”

  Like with how Garrison’s power changed to yank the truth out of Hank? How Shelby’s ability changed the night she was desperate to find Zach and Sara? How she went from receiving signals to seeking them out and assessing the target’s condition?

  “Do you have gifts, too?” Shelby asked.

  “I like to think that I’m more of an excellent nurse with those good nursing instincts, honed from years of experience.” She pushed back and picked up her bowl and spoon, resting a hand on Shelby’s shoulder. The light pressure was comfortable, reassuring. “If you ever come upon one of these gifts, please remember that it can protect, but it can also strike.”

  She looked up at Ruth’s statuesque frame. “How do you make it do that?”

  “Willpower. Openness to change.” She gave Shelby a wry smile. “And a good dose of stubbornness.”

  Chapter 23

  Later that afternoon, Shelby knocked on the door to the study.

  Garrison had barricaded himself in there to rework some of the books. He now waved her in. “How’s Dad?”

  “Worn out. Ruth put him through the paces today. Even got him doing a few laps in his bedroom with the walker.”

  “Great.” The smile didn’t go past Garrison’s mouth, and the circles under his eyes spoke volumes. “Ready to divvy up the duties for this evening and tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Can you take tonight? I’ll stay up tomorrow night.”

  Inwardly, she groaned. Poor sleep last night and none tonight. But how could she say no? He was burning his candle at both ends. “You bet.”

  “We need to winterize the small barn tomorrow. So we’re looking at checking electrical and heating and then clearing out debris. We have to tape up all the pipes and insulate as many of the walls as possible.”

  Quite a job, but necessary, since the rebuilt larger barn was still only a shell and wouldn’t be fully completed until next year. “What are you using for insulation?”

  “Anything I can get my hands on. I might see if Odie would be willing to make a dump run tomorrow and get old carpeting and any blankets. A buddy out there’s been watching for items and setting them to the side.”

  She nodded. “Not pretty, but it’ll insulate enough to keep the horses warm.”

  “Cows, too, when they start calving.”

  Her stomach clenched. “Yikes. You’re right, that’s in a few months. We’ll have to rotate the mother and calves in and out with the limited space. Maybe have to move the horses for a while, too.” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she said, “We’ll need to clear out some areas to use for pulling calves.”

  He ran a hand over his head. “Can you take care of that?”

  “Yes.” The weight of the responsibilities threatened to push her through the floor.

  “You and I should be able to get most, if not all, of the winterization done before the guys return.”

  “Agreed.” She paused, judging how much to press him. God, her brother was exhausted. He’d taken the heavy end of the load here at the ranch. But she had to try. “Have you given more thought to contacting Vaughn?”

  “No.” Final. He dropped his hand on the desk with a thud. Heavy. Angry.

  She filtered out most of the emotion and rubbed her temple to soothe the rest of it.

  “Sorry,” he said, motioning in the general direction of her throbbing head.

  “Comes with the territory,” she said. “I do believe Vaughn would like to know what’s going on with Dad and the ranch.”

  Garrison’s face remained stone cold, but a hand rolled into a fist. “Then he should have stuck around to find out. Or at least called.” And just like that, conversation was over. She knew that look all too well. No amount of prying and cajoling would get her brother to discuss it more.

  “Where’s Zach?” Changing the subject lessened the pinging pain of his negative emotions.

  “He and Sara are out near the corral. He wanted to show her how well he could ride his pony.”

  “Are they safe out there?”

  “Why?” He slapped a hand on the wood, and she jumped. “Son of a bitch, Shel, I can’t keep everyone locked away. Besides, this is our own ranch. Our property. The house, the corral, the barn. Home base.”

  “Should be safe here.”

  “One would hope.” Rubbing his jaw, he said, “What’s worse, if we’re not safe in our ow
n house, we’ve got a much bigger problem on our hands.”

  “You’re right—”

  A wave of emotion, curiosity laced with fear, coming from Zach, ran through Shelby. The trailing emotion of stark terror? That came from Sara.

  Then something else dark and shadowed, cold and hot at the same time, and malevolent, smacked into her filters, staggering her back a step. Damn her headaches. She focused on that sensation and turned until she faced it. Outside. Away from the house.

  She caught Zach’s feelings. Interest. Someone new approaching?

  When she focused on whoever was coming near the main ranch buildings, a black, heavy nothingness hit her senses, weighting her limbs, blinding her for a second. She grabbed the edge of the desk to stay upright.

  “What?” Garrison asked.

  “Go,” she gasped. “We have to get outside. I don’t know—” She broke off contact with the presence outside and rubbed her head. “Something bad. Go now!”

  He pushed back so hard that the chair flew across the room and crashed against a wall. He reached on top of a tall bookshelf and pulled down a shotgun. A handful of shells followed, and he loaded while he walked. The remaining ammo went into his pocket.

  Shelby followed the rapid thunk of his boots out the front door, grabbing a sidearm from the closet case. They ran toward the side of the house nearest the smaller second barn.

  Rounding the side of the barn, Shelby skidded to a halt right behind Garrison, their breaths coming out as puffs of vapor in the chilly air.

  “What the fuck?” he muttered.

  Zach sat on the back of his pony, reins clenched in his little fists. With eyes rolling, the animal pawed the ground inside the corral.

  Sara perched on the rail of the corral, her posture rigid, gripping the post next to her. Her tension reached Shelby.

  A silent black figure stood in the cattle field about ten feet away from the far edge of the corral. The constant wind had stopped, but still a tendril of air brought the sharp scent of sulfur past Shelby’s face. The herd huddled as far away as possible without leaving the fenced field.

  The air turned stale, unmoving, and cold like the inside of an old freezer. It took effort to draw a breath in through her nose.