The Virgin Beauty

by Claire King

  “Well, don’t worry. They shot me down.”

  “Did you think they’d do anything else?”

  “I thought maybe they considered me as much their son as you. Evidently I was wrong.”

  “Don’t be an ass. God, listen to yourself, Frank. Is this what you’ve become? You’re whining that Mom and Dad don’t love you?”

  “It’s just a fact, Danny. What you want, they want.”

  “That’s because what I want is for this ranch to continue in this family. Look around you, Frank. This is our legacy. And whether you think it’s going to happen or not, one of these days you’re going to pull your head out of your butt long enough to realize Sara would hate you for doing this to yourself. She died in that accident, and Cody died, but you didn’t die, Frank. Stop trying to convince yourself you did.”

  “I did die with them, Danny.” Frank’s eyes glittered with fury, with pain, with unshed tears. “My heart and my guts shriveled up inside my body the day they died. The rest of my body just won’t go with them.”

  “You seem to be making a stab at hurrying it along.”

  “That, brother, is none of your damn business.” He swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, a rough, angry motion. Daniel thought if they’d both been on the ground, he might have swiped at Daniel in the same way. Maybe it would have done him some good, to have a target for all the pain. Daniel would have served as one gladly.

  “Frank—”

  “Shut up. I’m done asking you for favors, Danny. I’ll do what I have to do to get free of this place.”

  He wheeled his horse around and followed the cattle that were moving slowly down the hill. Daniel soothed his horse, who had wanted to run with his pasture mate, and sat staring after his brother.

  After a minute, he kicked his horse into an easy canter and headed for the barn.

  “You could pack hay bales around in those bags under your eyes, Grace,” Lisa remarked as she walked into Grace’s office. She never knocked. Grace had thought Mrs. Handleman was just stubborn for always doing so, and now she found Lisa’s casual attitude toward professional privacy somewhat irritating. She really wanted a happy medium, but doubted she’d find it with these two around.

  “I’ve been preg-checking dairy cattle all afternoon,” Grace replied dryly. “Is Mrs. Handleman gone for the day?”

  “No. She’s on the phone with someone I don’t particularly care for, making an appointment. Do you need something?” Lisa sat in the chair Grace kept for consultations, though she hadn’t had a single one yet that hadn’t taken place in either her examining room or standing in half a foot of fresh manure.

  “Someone you don’t particularly care for?” Small towns. Grace almost sighed. She might never get used to the intricacies.

  Lisa smiled. “Bad boys. Tommy Felcher and Guy Tate. They’ve got a horse down, I guess.”

  Grace was already half out of her chair. “Where?”

  “Out to their place, I reckon,” Lisa said casually, picking at a brightly manicured pink fingernail. “I hear you had dinner at the Early Bird last night with my cousin.”

  “Your cousin?” Grace said rather stupidly, stalling for time.

  “Daniel. Of course.” Lisa smiled thinly. “My other cousin does drugs.”

  Grace stared at her new assistant. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Frank’s doing drugs. Has been for a couple years now. It’s why I quit the ranch.”

  “My God.” Grace put a hand to her heart, felt its sudden acceleration. She didn’t want to know this. She couldn’t imagine why Lisa, who had worked for her only a week, would tell her about such a private family matter. Perhaps everything in Nobel was accelerated; confidences, friendships, love affairs.

  Almost as though she could see the question form, Lisa answered it. “I thought you should know the truth. I want us to start out on the right foot.”

  “Oh. Of course.” How horrible for them all. “Does Daniel know?”

  “I think he probably does, deep down.” Lisa shrugged. “I’m going to talk to Aunt Liz and Uncle Howard about having an intervention. I thought maybe you could tell Daniel.”

  “Me? I can’t tell him. We barely— We hardly— I don’t even know him very well.”

  “Oh? You were out to the ranch last night.”

  Grace ruthlessly battled back a lethal blush. Had she seen them rolling around in the new grass? It was certainly possible. Oh, what had she been thinking? Her nimble brain flashed on an image of Daniel Cash, his mouth wet from hers, his green eyes flashing and intense. The fact was, she hadn’t been thinking. “How did you know that?”

  “Frank told me. I went by the equipment shed before I left for work this morning.”

  “Oh.” Had he been spying on them? No. Not Daniel’s brother. “How did he know, did he say?”

  Lisa’s blue-shadowed eyes went sharp. “He keeps close tabs on what Daniel does. He wants out of the corporation, and he’s pressing Danny pretty hard about it.”

  “He does?” That explained the shadows in Daniel’s eyes when he’d spoken of his brother. “Well, why doesn’t he just leave?”

  “And walk away from a million-dollar investment? He’s trying to get Daniel to sell the place, or at least buy out his shares. He needs the money to feed his addiction, is what I think.”

  She said it so casually, it made Grace’s skin crawl. “You know what, Lisa? I don’t think we should talk about this anymore.”

  “Oh. You’re probably right. Sorry if I upset you.” She rose. “I hear Mrs. Handleman talking. I’d better go out and see if you have a customer.”

  She did. Daniel Cash, holding his dog in his arms.

  “Thank goodness you’re here,” Mrs. Handleman snapped at him as he walked through the door.

  He glanced around. “Is she here? Spy’s been kicked. Needs her ribs wrapped.”

  “As if you couldn’t do that your own self, boy,” the older woman scoffed. “You just wanted another look at the new lady vet.”

  “Get her, will you, Alice? Spy may need an X ray.”

  “May?” Mrs. Handleman said, rounding the reception counter. “I worked alongside you eleven years, Danny Cash, and I know you can make a better diagnosis than that. Bring that dog in the examining room.”

  He followed Mrs. Handleman’s wide, familiar waddle down the corridor. “Why thank goodness I’m here?”

  “That Tate boy’s called the doctor out for a horse down.”

  Daniel grunted as he placed his dog gently on the stainless-steel table. “She’s not going out there. They’ll have to trailer the horse in.”

  Mrs. Handleman sniffed in approval. “That’s what I thought.”

  “What’s what you thought?” Grace asked as she followed Lisa out of her office. “What happened to this dog?”

  “Kicked by a horse,” Daniel said shortly. “Hey, Lisa.”

  “Hey, Danny.”

  “You had a call to go and check on a horse out to Guy Tate’s, but Danny here doesn’t think you should go,” Mrs. Handleman said smugly, handing Grace a pair of latex gloves.

  Grace examined the dog quickly and efficiently, palpating her sides and looking closely for signs of internal bleeding. It stopped her from shooting Daniel a look of death. “He doesn’t, does he?” Grace murmured. “Get me some wrap and tape.”

  Mrs. Handleman handed her the supplies. “No, he doesn’t. And I’d take his advice if I were you.”

  “Would you?”

  She was speaking quietly, but Daniel could hear the vibration in her voice. He stood with his hands in his pockets, watching every move she made. He hated to admit he couldn’t have wrapped Spy’s ribs better himself. She had on her too short coveralls again, and this time they were covered in a fragrant combination of fresh manure and bovine mucus. He thought she looked beautiful.

  “Yes. They can trailer that horse in if they want it looked at.”

  “Hard on a horse, if it’s suffering,” Grace said, stripping off her glov
es. She looked at Daniel. “Your dog?”

  “You’re not going out there, Grace,” he said flatly.

  She smiled thinly. Not a conversation she wanted to have in front of her two assistants, but here she was. “Yes, I am.” She turned to Mrs. Handleman. “Get me the directions.”

  Mrs. Handleman humphed nastily, but followed orders, anyway.

  “Guy Tate’s a lunatic and Tommy Felcher’s even crazier. He’d been in the county jail three times for assault. It’s his horse they’ve got out there.”

  “She’ll need to be kept quiet for at least a week,” Grace said, nodding at the dog. “I’ll give you some antibiotics in case she develops an infection.”

  “I’ll come with you.”

  She stood her ground, no easy task considering he was breathing fire again. “No, you won’t.”

  “Yeah, I will.” He turned to Lisa. “Can you put Spy in a kennel until I get back?”

  “You’re not going—”

  “Look, Doc, I know these boys.” He shrugged. “I’ve also doctored the horse. Maybe I can be of some help.”

  He saw what looked suspiciously like pity slide into those angry brown eyes of hers, and could have strangled her for it.

  Pity? Rage bubbled up from nowhere and choked him down. Pity? He was trying to protect her and all he got was arguments and pity? Hell with her, then. Let her take her chances.

  “You know what,” he said, turning toward the door, “forget it. See you, Lisa.” He was gone before Grace took her next breath.

  Grace forgot about Lisa and Mrs. Handleman and even the little border collie and rushed out the door after him. His long stride got him to his truck in double time, but she was no stroller, either. She caught his arm as he yanked open the door of his truck.

  “Wait a minute!”

  “Nope. I got things to do.”

  “You big baby. Wait!”

  He gave her a cool look. Baby? “You’re pushing it, Grace. Let go of my arm.”

  “No. Why are you so mad?”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “Okay,” she said. “Okay. I admit, it makes me nervous that you want to go on calls with me.”

  “Not calls. Just this call. But you think you’re tough enough for Tommy Felcher and Guy Tate, you go ahead on out. I won’t ask you again.”

  “Do you see the position you’re putting me in?”

  “Yep. I do. Let go of my arm.”

  She knew better than anyone he could have shaken her off in a blink. It was another measure of the man that he didn’t. “You stubborn jackass. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings—”

  “Hurt my feelings.” He stuck his tongue in his cheek and stared out the front windshield. He slowly shook his head. “Hurt my feelings.”

  “Well, didn’t I hurt your feelings?”

  “No. Now let go of my arm, Grace, before I shut this door on you.”

  “Well, if I didn’t hurt your feelings, what did I do?”

  “You felt sorry for me. Didn’t you?” He narrowed his eyes, caught a glint of guilty truth in hers. “I don’t need your pity.”

  “No. You don’t. I’m sorry.”

  “Uh-huh. Let loose of me.”

  She did. Stepped back. “I am sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so angry. I didn’t even know I could.”

  “Well, now you know.” He closed the door of his truck with a definite bang. “See ya.”

  She slapped the side of his truck as it moved away from the curb. “Mule,” she shouted, and ignored the stares she got from the crowd at the Early Bird.

  Chapter 6

  The farm, if it could be called that, was a mess. Broken fence lines lay like spaghetti strands along the edges of weedy fields. No cattle in the single, small pasture, and what was utilized as a barn was not much more than a shed. And it stank. Even Grace, who was accustomed to the various smells of the animal world, had to wrinkle her nose when she stepped into the dim building.

  The two men, who’d introduced themselves as Tommy and Guy, walked in behind her. Close behind her. Grace struggled for calm.

  “He’s swolled up in his gut,” said Tommy—or possibly Guy, as she hadn’t paid much attention during the introductions, busy as she was rethinking Daniel’s offer to come with her to this stinking hole.

  She ignored the tickle of dread at the back of her neck and examined the horse carefully. He was jumpy and snorted at her.

  “Get a halter on him, please, Tommy,” she said, and watched which man moved. Okay, she had them straight now. That would be important if she had to describe them to the police. She bit back a bubble of slightly hysterical laughter. “Hold his head. And have you got lights in here?”

  “Nope,” Guy drawled.

  “Let’s get him outside, then.” She took the halter herself and strapped it on, speaking soothingly to the horse all the while. He didn’t calm and she had to jump out of the way when he stamped his wide hoof too close to her boot.

  “Settle down,” Tommy said sharply, giving the horse a brisk slap on his thick neck.

  “Hey!” Grace snapped. “Don’t do that.”

  “He don’t behave.”

  “Probably because he’s injured,” Grace said.

  “He ain’t injured, he’s just sick,” Guy said. “Got the colic.”

  “This horse does not have colic.” What he did have wrong with him, Grace was almost afraid to speak aloud to these two men, who were clearly responsible for his condition. “Which one of you kicked him?”

  They stared at her, and then exchanged a glance. “Kicked him? Nobody kicked him,” Tommy said. “He was like ’at when we come out this afternoon.”

  Fury, ugly and vicious, snaked up Grace’s throat. She’d dedicated her life to helping animals, and these two slack-jawed yokels had just taken a boot to a perfectly fine horse and damaged its kidney. “There’s a toe mark in the hide, from a steel-toed boot. The hide’s ripped open, there.” She looked down, could see the glint of stamped, ornamental steel at the tip of Tommy Felcher’s slim cowboy boot. “I’m taking this horse with me in my trailer back to the clinic. I’m also calling Animal Services and reporting you both for cruelty. This animal is emaciated and dehydrated. How long has he been locked in this shed?”

  “He’s only been in here a day or two.”

  Grace gritted her teeth. She could smell something besides the sick animal and the filthy barn. Human halitosis; a lethal combo of beer and onions, if she wasn’t mistaken.

  “More like a week or two,” she said stiffly. “Excuse me, I’m taking him outside to get a better look at him. Meanwhile, clean out this manure. You’re inviting disease.”

  Guy Tate smiled, revealing a raggedy set of teeth and a wad of chewing tobacco the size of a walnut. “You ain’t taking this horse anywhere, Legs.”

  “I am,” she said, pulling herself to her full height. She topped them both by a couple inches, and she was furious, besides. No way they could take her, she thought.

  They eyed her, eyed each other. “How tall are you?” Tommy asked, grinning. Grace felt something like real fear slick down her spine. She didn’t speak, but braced herself. The horse behind her shifted nervously, sensing the sudden tension.

  “Six-three? Six-four?”

  Grace narrowed her eyes. She slid her hand over the halter rope, clenched it between bloodless fingers. “Move it. I’m taking this horse.”

  “You are the godawfulest tall woman I ever saw,” Guy said.

  “I betcha you’re six-three,” Tommy decided. “Am I close?”

  They were having fun, now, she could see. Her lips thinned “Get out of my way.”

  “You ain’t taking this horse,” Guy declared mildly once more. “I don’t even know how you find clothes to fit you, with those long legs.”

  He decided to stare at her legs for a while, or at least at the apex of her thighs, Grace noted in disgust. She took a step forward, leading the horse, but neither man budged an inch.

  “I don’t know how sh
e finds a bed to fit her,” said Tommy.

  Guy thought that was plenty clever. He grinned again. “Mine would fit her,” he said.

  “Okay, I’ve had enough,” Grace said tightly. Fear and fury were rapidly turning to flat-out nausea. “Get out of my way, right now.”

  She took another step forward and found herself pinned between the two men, who shifted to her sides. She acted instinctively, and would later thank her brothers for the years of backyard wrestling matches. She elbowed Tommy in his considerable beer belly and stomped as hard as she could on Guy’s filthy shoe.

  All hell broke loose, as she suspected it would. She dropped the halter rope just as one of them snaked out a hand and yanked her hair nearly out of her skull. The other slid his hand around the slim column of her neck. She no longer cared which man was doing what. She just wanted out. She began to fight, but almost instantly found her arms clamped behind her back.

  “That was a big mistake, Stretch,” one of them hissed in her ear as she aimed, and missed, a kick to a shin.

  “I will have you both arrested for assault,” she threatened between her teeth.

  “You started it, honey.”

  “And I’ll finish it.” The threat was like the retort of a gun in the dank little barn. Daniel towered in the doorway, blocking off most of what little light there was. The men on either side of Grace froze. “Get your hands off her.”

  Whichever smelly hillbilly had hold of her hair dropped his hand, but the fingers around her neck just tightened a little at the warning.

  “I said,” Daniel growled, “get your greasy hand off her, Tommy, or I’ll get my ax out the back of my pickup and chop it off at the elbow.”

  He stepped into the barn, rage pumping through the muscles in his back and shoulders, bunching his fists and pouring into his adrenal glands. He could have killed both of them with his bare hands, and smile doing it. They’d touched her, had their hands on her, put that scared look into her beautiful brown eyes. He wouldn’t let them live without the appropriate scars.

  “Danny, listen now,” Guy started to babble as he backed up. Grace was astonished how quickly his smug sneer had oozed into a grimace of abject fear. “We was just telling the lady she couldn’t take the horse. The horse is our property.”