Rogue's Revenge

by Gail MacMillan

  “Don’t be so quick to turn up your nose, missy. Your dad was a cowboy before he went to medical school and became a fancy doctor. Or have you forgotten his Alberta roots?” Jake released the girth and pulled the saddle and pad from the horse’s back.

  “No, I haven’t.” She looked down at her polished riding boots and remembered how proud she’d always been of her father’s rise from son of a struggling rancher to one of Canada’s best neurosurgeons.

  “Well, then.” Jake slid Pride’s bridle over her ears and replaced it with a halter and lunge line. “Give this mare to your mother—she’s retiring her old Princess this summer—and let me find you a good quarter horse.”

  “Are you saying my mother is a more sophisticated rider than I am?” Allison watched the big, rugged man as he led the mare to the center of the arena and started her moving in wide circles at the end of the lunge line.

  “No, just more suited to English than you’ll ever be” He clucked to the horse to keep her moving and cooling. “This pretty lady…” He indicated the mare. “Deserves to be with someone who suits her style.”

  A shrill cry came from the paddocks behind the stables. The mare pricked her ears and answered with a sharp whinny.

  “Baby still not ready to leave her mom?” Allison recognized the interchange.

  “Pride’s a great mother, but she realizes she has to get back to work.” He stopped the mare, who stood with her head high, eyes searching, and handed her lead to Allison. “Her baby just isn’t ready to give her up. Put this lady in her stall, honey. I’ll be in shortly to rub her down. I want to check on the filly. She can get crazy trying to get back with her mom.”

  Allison took the rope and headed into the stable. It wasn’t renovations or Pride’s anxiety over separation from her foal that had ruined Allison’s performance. No, no, no. It was her lack of concentration caused by one backwoods barbarian named Heath Oakes and his determination to involve her in her grandfather’s business. In her mind, she saw his piercing eyes mocking her, felt his body against hers, his mouth covering hers in the most sensuous kiss she’d ever experienced.

  Lost in thought, it was a moment before she became aware of hooves galloping into the barn behind her. The next happened so fast that later she’d have difficulty recalling its sequence. A workman’s yell, a crash as the mare reared, slamming into Allison’s shoulder, high-pitched equine screams.

  Thrown against a stall door, Allison staggered, struggling to remain on her feet. As if in a nightmare she saw Pride snorting and pawing amid a cloud of dust and debris, her filly lying immobile on the cement floor in front of her. A six-foot beam lay across the little animal’s shattered head.

  “Jake!” she screamed as the stable manager ran into the barn and workmen leaped and tumbled down from scaffolding. “Jake!”

  ****

  “Drink this.” Myra Armstrong thrust a steaming cup into Allison’s hands.

  “What is it?” Wrapped in her favorite old fleece housecoat, she sat in her parents’ kitchen and stared down into the light brown liquid.

  “Hot, sweet tea. The very best thing for shock.” Her mother took the chair across from her at the kitchen table, a frown furrowing her forehead. “Honey, are you sure you don’t want me to call your father? He’s not operating this morning. You really should have your shoulder examined. And you’ve had a terrible shock.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mom. Just need a little TLC before I go back to my apartment.” She forced a smile, but tears trickled down her cheeks. “Oh, God, it was awful! Pride screaming, little Joy lying there with her head covered in blood…”

  “I’m sure it was, sweetheart. I empathize with Pride. I can’t imagine anything worse than witnessing the death of your baby.” She stood and rounded the table to put an arm around her daughter’s drooping shoulders.

  “Ouch! Sorry, Mom. A bit tender, but I appreciate the gesture.” She sniffed and smiled up at her mother. “Got a tissue?”

  “Of course.” Myra went to the refrigerator to fetch the box from its top. “Poor Jake. He must be full of self-recrimination, letting that filly get away from him. I’ll drive out later and talk to him. I hope I can reassure him it wasn’t his fault. And honey, I really think you should stay here tonight. I’d like you to be with your father and me…”

  The ringing of the phone broke into her words, and she picked up the receiver from its wall rack by the door.

  “Hello. Yes, this is Myra Armstrong. Yes, my family is involved with Chance Lodge. What? Oh, no! When? How badly is he injured?”

  “Mom?” Allison was instantly at her mother’s elbow. “Who? What…?”

  “Of course.” Myra waved her to silence as she listened. “Someone will be there within twenty-four hours. Thank you for calling.”

  “Mom, for God’s sake, what?” Allison seized her mother’s arm the moment she hung up. “The Lodge, what’s happened? Who was that on the phone?”

  “That was the doctor in Portage.” She turned to her daughter, her face paling. “That’s the town nearest the Lodge.”

  “Mom, for heaven’s sake, I know where it is. What did the doctor say?”

  “RCMP received an anonymous tip that there’d been an accident up at the Lodge.” She crossed the kitchen to drop into a chair at the table. “When they investigated, they found Heath lying unconscious beside the boathouse, a fallen ladder beside him. At first they thought he’d slipped while fixing the roof, but when he regained consciousness, he claimed he remembered the ladder hitting him across the ankles when he went to stand…hitting him too hard to have been a natural slip.”

  “A deliberate attack?”

  “The police aren’t certain. Heath has a concussion, and they think he might be confused, but they’re investigating, just in case he’s not. Allison…” She turned to her daughter. “Your father can’t possibly leave his patients, and I’m at a critical stage with my fundraising. You’ll have to go. You’ll have to take care of Chance Lodge until Heath is well.”

  “No, Mom. Definitely no!” Allison went to put her empty cup in the sink. “I love you, and I’d do anything for you…except that. And just now, after all that’s happened today…”

  “Allison, I know you carry some animosity in your heart toward Heath that you’ve never chosen to explain, but this is your grandfather’s place we’re talking about. It needs a caretaker, and right now that has to be you. With Heath recuperating at the clinic in town, there’s no one to keep it safe.”

  “And you seriously think my presence can deter vandals?”

  “Allison, the Lodge has a state-of-the-art security system. It just has to be activated at appropriate times. And then there’s food and rooms to get ready…guests in two weeks, Heath told me. Hopefully by that time he will be back on the job and his mother will be home, but until then…”

  “How do you expect me take time from my job? I may not be a neurosurgeon or a miracle fundraiser, but my position with the company…”

  “Didn’t you tell me before we went up to Dad’s funeral that you’d hired an assistant who’s been working out really well? Well, let him take over for a few days.”

  “But he’s still new at the game…”

  “Now, you listen, young lady.” Allison was startled by the change in her mother’s tone. “This is your family we’re talking about. I know whatever Heath did years ago turned at least part of your heart to stone, but it’s about time you started reacting with what’s left of the soft bit.”

  She picked up the phone and began to punch in a number.

  “What are you doing?” Stymied, Allison stared at her.

  “Calling our travel agent. You’ll need a ticket to catch a plane out of here tomorrow morning.”

  “But we haven’t had time to discuss that crazy will! I haven’t consulted my company attorney!”

  “You can contest the will a week, a month, a year from now. But it will be a pointless battle if the Chance is destroyed. Yes, hello. I want an open-ended ticket
to Portage, New Brunswick. And a large dog crate.”

  “There,” she said five minutes later as she hung up the phone. “All arranged.”

  “Mom, I do think this is more than a bit uncaring, expecting me to go up to the Lodge to take over God knows what duties from a man I detest, especially after all that’s happened today.”

  “Especially after what’s happened today.” She put an arm about her daughter. “Dwelling on what happened to Pride and her little Joy won’t help anything. On the other hand, getting involved in the challenges involved in taking care of the Chance will. Now you start packing while I get Jack’s things together.”

  “So that’s why you asked for a dog crate. Really, Mom, Jack will only be a nuisance. He’s never even been in the woods…at least not that kind of woods. I know you take him with you when you ride the bridle trails out at the stable, but northern New Brunswick wilderness is a long way from carefully groomed paths.”

  “He’ll be fine.” She smiled benignly as she pulled a bag of dog food from under a cupboard. “He’s proven to be a fine guard around the house. I’ll feel much better if you have him with you. Actually, he’s nearly as resourceful as his namesake…your grandfather.”

  ****

  Going back to the Chance and that miserable man. In the last two days my life has done a complete one-eighty.

  She plunked down on the edge of the bed in the pink-and-white room she’d occupied as a child and teenager before going off to college, before she’d become Allison Armstrong, tough business woman. What a romantic I must have been. She looked around at the frills and ruffles and again felt the pain in her chest that her denial of all that was lovely and romantic always caused her. And it was all his fault, all because of him.

  She picked up the receiver of the pink princess phone beside the bed and tapped in her office number.

  “Millie, this is Allison. Put me through to Andrew Burns, will you?”

  It was a moment before the corporate attorney’s voice answered.

  “Allison, good to hear from you. How are things in the wilds of New Brunswick?”

  “Good afternoon, Andrew. Have you finished the work on Gramps’ will, the copy I faxed you yesterday?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think you’ll be thrilled with what I’ve found.”

  “What? Don’t tell me…”

  “It’s ironclad. One of the tightest documents I’ve run up against in twenty years of practice. Contesting it would be pointless.”

  “That can’t be. There has to be a loophole in such a bizarre document.”

  “Surprisingly, no. Your grandfather and his attorney left nothing to chance.”

  The following morning she watched southern Ontario disappearing beneath a heavy cloud cover. As the plane reached cruising altitude and leveled off, she settled back in her seat to consider her next move.

  As much as she disliked the prospect, she’d check on Heath as soon as she arrived in Portage. After all, he was an injured creature. Next she’d determine if she needed a temporary caretaker…if she could find a competent one. And if she couldn’t? Stay on and run the place herself until she could come up with some way of ridding herself of her share and make a profit doing it?

  She leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and tried to unwind. What a rotten week this had turned out to be. First, her grandfather’s death, then the terrible accident at the stable, followed by the news of Heath’s injury, and finally her lawyer’s report that he’d found no way to break the will that bound her to the man Gramps had monikered his acquired son.

  Heath. His name echoed around in her head as she drifted into a doze. Suddenly he was with her, holding her, those amazing eyes looking deep into hers with a penetrating intensity…

  “Would you like a drink, miss?” The flight attendant interrupted her half-lucid thoughts.

  “Yes, please.” She jerked upright. “A diet soda. With lots of ice.”

  Late that afternoon, after the commuter plane had touched down in fog and mist at the small northern New Brunswick airport nearest Chance Lodge, she collected her luggage and Jack. With the dog’s leash in one hand and her single suitcase in the other, she hailed a cab.

  “Where to, miss?” the driver asked, eyeing the big poodle.

  “To the medical clinic.”

  “I don’t usually take dogs. Shed much?”

  “Not at all. He’s a poodle. Double fare?”

  “Climb in.”

  “You’re a liability already, and we’ve only just arrived,” she muttered to the dog as the driver deposited her suitcase in the trunk and she opened the rear door to let the animal inside. With a happy bark, Jack leaped up on the seat and took his place by the opposite window.

  “I’d like to see Heath Oakes,” she told the receptionist at the front office a few minutes later. “My name is Allison Armstrong. My grandfather owned Chance Lodge.”

  “He checked himself out early this morning.” The gray-haired, middle-aged lady behind the desk surprised her with the reply. “Dr. Henderson tried to convince him he wasn’t in any fit condition, but, well, if he works for your family, you must know what he’s like. There’s no stopping him when he’s got his mind set. If Dr. Henderson couldn’t convince him to stay in the clinic, no one could. I’m sure they’ll be announcing their engagement any day now. And who is this fine fellow?” She turned her attention to the dog and beamed down at him. Jack, tongue lolling happily, looked up at her, bright and pert.

  “Nell, what are you gossiping about now?” A brunette with gorgeous violet eyes, porcelain complexion, and shampoo-model hair stood framed in the doorway of an examining room, her white lab coat open to reveal a short, fitted dark skirt, red silk blouse, and legs that seemed yards long in black hose. Allison’s heart plummeted.

  “Dr. Henderson?” She hoped her voice wasn’t squeaky with surprise.

  “Yes. You were looking for Heath. I overheard.” She crossed the room and extended a cool, slender hand. “I’m Jessica Henderson, his doctor.”

  “Allison Armstrong.” She accepted the introduction with what she hoped was mature, woman-to-woman cool. “When my mother and I learned he’d been injured, we decided one of us would have to come. How is he, Doctor?”

  “Stubborn, tough, and definitely on the mend.” She shrugged and smiled ruefully. “I would have preferred his staying here a couple more days until I was sure all was well, but he refused. He had work to do at the Lodge, he said…guests arriving soon, and all that.”

  She went to a cupboard in one corner of the immaculate room, unlocked it, and took out a bottle of pills.

  “I assume you’ll be going up to the Chance?” She handed it to Allison. “These are painkillers he should be taking.”

  “I imagine you’ll be coming up soon, too.” Allison couldn’t resist testing the waters of the relationship the receptionist had mentioned.

  “Me? No. Not unless one of you think I’m needed.” The doctor looked puzzled. Then her expression cleared, and she chuckled. “Oh, Mom’s been airing her wishful thinking again, has she?”

  “Now, Jesse, he’s a fine man, and you’re not getting any younger, and I would like to be a grandmother before I die…”

  The receptionist arose and went to put a placating hand on the doctor’s arm.

  “Mom?” Allison was surprised.

  “Meet Nell Henderson, my mother, receptionist, and shameless matchmaker.” Jessica Henderson put an arm about the older woman’s shoulders and hugged her. “It’s fortunate I love her and understand she wants only what she thinks is best for me. You have a mother, Miss Armstrong. I saw you with her at Jack’s funeral. You understand.”

  “Definitely.” Allison pocketed the pills and forced a smile. “Thanks. I’ll let you know if Heath needs further medical attention.” Good lord, why did I put emphasis on “medical”?

  Out in the street she saw her cab and hailed it again.

  “Chance Lodge, please.” She started to put her suitcase into the rear
seat, but the driver stopped her.

  “Sorry, lady, but I won’t take this car up there…not even for a double fare. Only four-wheel-drives on that road.”

  “Well, then, how am I supposed to get there?”

  “You might try renting Jordon Jones’ Tracker.” He pointed to a service station/convenience store across the street. “He lets it out sometimes.”

  “Thanks.” Allison shut the cab door, hefted her luggage, adjusted her hold on Jack’s leash, and headed across the street.

  “Good afternoon,” she said to the blond teenage clerk behind the counter as she entered the service station’s store section. Over in one corner, four local men whose mackinaws, work pants, and steel-toed boots branded them woods workers were gathered around a coffee machine. They stared at her and Jack. One of them pointed at the poodle and snickered.

  “What’s that? A cotton ball on legs?”

  “I’d like to rent a four-wheel-drive.” She ignored them and spoke when the girl behind the cash register looked up from the magazine she’d been scanning. “The cabbie said I might be able to get one here.”

  “We only have one.” The teenager snapped her gum and looked Allison critically up and down. “And it’s out right now. Where’d you want to go?”

  “Chance Lodge. How long before it gets back?”

  “Tomorrow, probably.” She shrugged and returned to her reading. “Ben Jenkins never is real exact about when he’s coming down out of the woods. Likes to keep his wife guessing.”

  “I’ll drive you up to the Chance.”

  One of the men moved out of the coffee group and ambled over to her, Styrofoam cup in hand. He was huge and bearded with black whiskers. Equally dark, untidy hair stuck out from beneath a stained baseball cap. Over six feet tall and weighing, Allison estimated, well in excess of two hundred pounds, he was a formidable brute.

  “How much?” She looked up into his small, bear-like eyes.

  “Forty bucks, take it or leave it. Ten more if you’re taking that white thing along. Marty Mason don’t dicker.”

  “Fine. Let’s go, Mr. Mason.” What a rip-off, but I have to get there.