by Lisa Jackson
As she approached, all she could hear was her own ragged breath and running footsteps. “Zane, dear God, where are you?” she screamed, listening for a sound, any sound indicating there was life in the wreckage. Her mind filled with a dozen bloody scenarios involving Zane and Moon Shadow, but she pushed her horrible thoughts aside and dashed toward the jackknifed truck.
“Goddam it, man, what the hell was that horse doing loose?” a gravelly voice demanded. The truck driver was crawling out of the cab and swearing profusely. Rain poured down upon him, and the broken branches of the trees snapped as he stepped onto the road.
Zane must be alive! Who else would be absorbing the angry trucker’s wrath?
Tiffany made it to the wrecked truck. Her heart was thudding wildly in her chest, and she had to gasp for air. The truck was lying on its side, the cab at an awkward angle. It looked like some great downed beast with a broken neck. In her mind’s eye Tiffany saw another truck, the rig that had taken Ellery and Devil’s Gambit from Florida to Kentucky, the one that had rolled over and burst into flame, killing both horse and driver. Her stomach turned over at the painful memory.
From inside the cab the sound of a CB’s static pierced the darkness and brought her thoughts crashing to the present.
“Zane?” she cried, looking into the darkness, searching for any sign of the man and the horse.
“Hey, lady! Over here!” The large truck driver commanded her attention by calling out in his gravelly voice. “What’re you doin’ out here? Jesus, God, you’re soaked to the skin!”
“Zane... My horse—”
“That black son of a bitch? He’s your goddamn horse?” His agitated swearing continued. “Christ, woman, can’t you see what that horse of yours did? He ran right up the road here—” the trucker pointed a burly arm toward the bend in the road “—like some demon. Scared the hell out of me, let me tell you.”
“He got out.... I’m sorry....” She looked around frantically, dread still taking a stranglehold of her throat. “Where is he...? Where is Zane?”
“Who the hell is Zane? The horse?”
“No!”
“Tiffany,” Zane shouted from somewhere in the thick stand of oak and fir trees near the road. Tiffany’s head snapped in the direction of the familiar sound, her heart nearly skipped a beat and relief washed over her in soothing rivulets.
Without another glance at the truck driver, who was busy clearing debris from the road and placing warning flares near his truck, Tiffany hurried toward the familiar welcome of Zane’s voice.
Then she saw him. Wet, bedraggled, mud-streaked and walking toward her. He was leading a lathered Moon Shadow, who skittered and danced at all the commotion he had inadvertently caused. “Oh, God, Zane,” she cried, “you’re alive.”
Without further thought, she ran to him and threw her arms around his neck. “I thought... Oh, God, I heard the horse and the truck. I was sure that...” Tears began running freely down her face, and she sobbed brokenly, clinging to him.
“Shh.” He wrapped one strong arm around her and kissed her forehead, smearing mud on her face. “I’m all right, and I think Moon Shadow will be, too. But you’d better have the vet look at him. He’s limping a little.”
“What happened?” she asked, refusing to let go of the man she loved, letting her body feel his, confirming that he was here, alive and unhurt. Rain glistened in his ebony hair, sweat trickled down his jutted chin and a scarlet streak of dried blood cut across his hollowed cheek. Still he was the most ruggedly handsome man she had ever known.
“The fence was down. I followed Moon Shadow through it and called to him, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“Of course,” Tiffany replied, patting the horse’s sweaty neck fondly. “He never does.”
“He just took off down the road. Bolted as if he were jumping out of the starting gate. I heard the truck coming and tried to stop him by cutting across a field. That’s when I got this.” He pointed to the ugly slash on his face. “When I realized I didn’t have a prayer of catching him in time, I called to the horse and yelled at the truck driver, waving my arms, hoping to catch his eye. Even though I was farther down the road, I thought the driver might see my shirt before the black horse. Anyway, Moon Shadow jumped over the ditch and ran into the trees just as the truck hit the brakes.”
“Hey, you think I could get some help over here?” the furious trucker shouted.
Zane went to help the driver just as Mac’s old Dodge rumbled down the road. After parking the pickup some distance from the mangled truck and trailer, Mac scrambled out of the Dodge. “Holy Mother of God,” he whispered as he eyed the wrecked truck. He expelled a long whistle and grabbed the lead rope from the front seat of his pickup. “What the devil happened?”
Then he saw Moon Shadow. Knowing that Zane and the trucker were doing everything that could be done with the truck, Mac walked over to Tiffany and snapped a lead rope onto Moon Shadow’s wet halter. “Well, Missy,” he said, eyeing the wrecked truck. “It looks as if you’ve had yourself quite a night.” His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the anxious stallion.
“One I wouldn’t want to repeat,” she admitted. “Zane says Moon Shadow’s walking with a misstep,” she said. “Left hind leg.”
“Let’s take a look at him.” Mack talked to the horse while he ran his fingers down his back and along each leg. “Yep, it’s a little tender,” Mac decided. “But I don’t think anything’s broken, probably bruised himself, maybe a pulled tendon. I’ll take him back to the barn, cool him down and check for any other injuries.” He tugged on the rope, and Moon Shadow tossed his great black head. “I always said you should have been the one named Devil’s something or other,” Mac grumbled affectionately to the nervous stallion.
The sound of a siren pierced the night and increased in volume. Bright, flashing lights announced the arrival of the state police. A young officer parked his car, leaving the lights flashing in warning, and walked stiffly toward the crumpled truck. “What happened here?” he demanded.
“One of the horses got out,” Zane replied, tossing a broken branch off the road.
“And I damned near hit him,” the trucker added with a shake of his head. “Just lucky that I didn’t.”
The officer’s suspicious eyes moved from Zane to Tiffany. “Are you the lady who called?”
“Yes.”
“Before the accident?”
“That’s right. I was afraid something like this might happen.”
The officer studied the wreckage and whistled. “Where’s the horse?”
“Over here.” Mac led Moon Shadow to the officer. The black stallion shied away from the flashing lights of the police car, and reared on his back legs. The lead rope tightened in Mac’s hands, but he began to talk to the horse and gently led him away from the crowd.
“Blends in with the night,” Officer Sparks remarked, watching the nervous black stallion shy away from the crumpled vehicle. The policeman turned his hard eyes back on Tiffany. “How’d he get out?”
“Someone left the stall door unlatched, and he found a hole in a fence we’re repairing.”
“Wait a minute, let’s start at the beginning.” He walked back to his car, reached for a notepad on the dash and began writing quickly.
“Why don’t we do this inside,” Zane suggested, “where it’s warmer and drier?”
The young officer pursed his lips together and nodded. “Fine. Just let me take a few measurements and report what happened on the radio. Then we’ll call a tow company and see if we can get this rig moved.”
Three hours later the ordeal was nearly over. After two cups of coffee and what seemed to be a thousand questions, the police officer was satisfied that he could accurately report what had happened. The trucker had taken the name of Tiffany’s insurance company and had left with the towtruck driver, who had driven up with a truck similar in size to the wrecked rig. Moon Shadow was back in his stall and Mac had attended to his injury, which turned out to be a st
rained tendon. With Zane’s help, Mac had applied a pressure bandage and called Vance, who had promised to stop by in the morning and examine the horse.
“You’re sure Moon Shadow’s all right?” Tiffany asked the trainer. She was just coming back into the kitchen. After the police officer and the trucker had left, she had gone upstairs, showered and changed into her bathrobe. Her hair was still wet, but at least she was clean and warm.
“He’ll be fine,” Mac assured her. He was sitting at the table and finishing his last cup of coffee.
“Where’s Zane?”
Mac scowled at the mention of the Irishman. “He went to clean up. Same as you.” He looked as if he were about to say something and changed his mind. “He knows horses, that one.”
“Who? Zane?”
“Aye.”
“I think he’s worked with them all his life.” Tiffany poured herself a cup of the strong coffee and took a sip as she leaned against the counter. “Mac, is something bothering you?” Tiffany asked, her brows drawing together in concern. “Is Moon Shadow all right?”
Mac was quick to put her fears to rest. “Oh, I imagine he’ll have a few stiff muscles tomorrow, and it won’t hurt to have Vance take a look at him. But I think he’ll be fine.”
“Great,” Tiffany said with a relieved sigh.
Just then, Zane strode into the kitchen, wearing only a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt that stretched across his chest and didn’t hide the ripple of his muscles as he moved. He had washed his face and the scratch there was only minor.
“Another cup?” Tiffany asked, handing Zane a mug filled with the steaming brew.
“Thanks.”
Mac rotated his mug between both of his hands and stared into the murky liquid. He pressed his thin lips together and then lifted his head, eyeing both Tiffany and Zane.
“Now, Missy,” he said, “who do ya suppose let Moon Shadow out?”
Tiffany was surprised by the question. She lifted her shoulders slightly. “I don’t know. I think it was probably just an oversight by one of the stable hands.”
“Do ya, now?”
“Why? You think someone let him out on purpose?” Tiffany’s smile faded and a deep weariness stole over her. So much had happened in one day and she was bone tired.
Mac reached for his hat and placed the slightly damp fedora on his head. “I checked the stallion barn myself earlier. Moon Shadow was locked in his stall.”
Tiffany dropped her head into her hand. “I don’t want to think about this,” she whispered quietly, “not now.”
“I think you have to, Missy,” Mac said. “Someone deliberately let the stallion out.”
“Buy why?”
“That one I can’t answer.” His gaze moved to Zane. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?”
Zane’s gray eyes turned to steel. “Of course not.”
“Just askin’,” Mac explained. “You were here when it happened.” He rubbed his hand over his chin. “And the way I understand it, you had a grudge against Ellery Rhodes.”
“That was a long time ago,” Zane replied.
“Aye. And now you’re here. Pokin’ around hopin’ to buy the place.” He shot a warning glance to Tiffany.
“Mac,” she said, horrified that he would consider Zane a suspect. “Zane caught Moon Shadow tonight. If it hadn’t been for him, the horse might be dead.”
Mac rubbed the tired muscles in the back of his neck and frowned. “I know you’re a fine horse breeder,” he said to Zane. “You have the reputation to back you up, but sometimes, when revenge or a woman’s involved, well...a man’s head can get all turned around.”
“I would never do anything to jeopardize a horse,” Zane stated calmly. “And I care too much for Tiffany to do anything that might harm her.” His voice was low and deadly. His indignant eyes impaled the old trainer.
Mac managed to crack a smile. “All right, Sheridan. I believe you. Now, can you tell me what you think is going on around here? It seems to me that someone is trying to sabotage the operation. Who would do that? Maybe a man interested in buying a farm and gathering a little revenge to boot?” With his final remark, Mac pushed his chair away from the table. The legs scraped against the wooden floor. After straightening his tired muscles, he turned toward the back porch. He paused at the door, his hand poised on the knob, and glanced over his shoulder at Tiffany. “And just for the record I’ll be sleeping in the stallion barn tonight. Wouldn’t want to have another ‘accident,’ would we?”
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m sleeping in the barn, Missy,” Mac insisted. “That’s all right with you, isn’t it?”
“Of course, but really, there’s no need....”
Mac tugged on the brim of the fedora over his eyes before stepping outside. Tiffany heard his footsteps fade as he walked down the back steps.
“Mac’s grasping at straws,” Tiffany said, feeling the need to explain and apologize to Zane. She lifted her palms and managed a frail smile. “He...he’s just trying to find an explanation.”
“And I’m the logical choice.”
“Everyone else has been with the farm for years, and, well, Mac’s a little suspicious when it comes to strangers.”
Zane set his empty cup on the counter and rammed his hands into his pockets. His eyes narrowed, and his lower jaw jutted forward. “And what do you think, Tiffany?”
She lifted trusting eyes to his. “I know you didn’t let Moon Shadow out.”
“So who did?”
“God, I don’t know. I’m not really sure I want to. I’m just so damned tired...” She felt her shoulders slump and forced her back to stiffen. “If I had to guess I’d say that it was probably just some kids who broke into the place and thought they’d get their kicks by letting the horse out.”
“Not just any horse,” he reminded her. “Moon Shadow.”
“He’s been getting a lot of attention lately.”
“How would the kids know where to find Moon Shadow?”
“His picture’s been in the paper.”
“And at night, to an untrained eye, Moon Shadow looks like any other black horse.”
“But—”
“What about your security system?” Zane demanded.
“You said yourself that the fence was down.”
“Wouldn’t that dog of yours bark his head off if a stranger started poking around the place?” he demanded, daring her to ignore the logic of his thinking.
“I...I guess so.”
“You see,” he surmised, “there are too many unanswered questions. I don’t blame Mac for thinking I was involved.” He raked his fingers through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh.
“He’s just worried...about me.”
“So am I.” Zane’s arms circled her waist and he leaned his forehead against hers. “Someone’s trying to ruin you and I think I know who.”
Tiffany squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head, denying his suggestion before he had a chance to speak. “Dustin,” she thought aloud, “you think he’s behind all this?”
“No question about it.”
“But he’s in Florida—”
“Is he?”
Tiffany hesitated. She hadn’t actually seen Dustin get on a plane. “Journey’s End races the day after tomorrow.”
“And Dustin was here this morning.” His strong, protective arms drew her close. “If you do have a saboteur, sweet lady, I’m willing to bet on your brother-in-law.”
“Just because one horse got out—”
“And four foals died.”
“No!” Tiffany tried to jerk away but couldn’t. His powerful arms flexed and imprisoned her to him.
“And the story was leaked to the press.”
“It wasn’t leaked—we never tried to hide what was happening with the foals.” She sprang instantly to Dustin’s defense. No matter what else had happened, Dustin was the man who had helped her when Ellery had died. “Dustin himself was concerned abou
t the story in the papers. That’s why he came back.”
“So he claimed.”
“You’re just trying to find someone, anyone, to blame all this on!”
“No, Tiffany, no,” he whispered, his breath fanning her damp hair. “I’m trying to make you understand the only logical explanation. If you think Dustin’s so innocent, what about Devil’s Gambit and King’s Ransom?”
“I...I can’t explain that.”
“What about the fact that Ellery may still be alive?”
“But he’s not—”
“We’re not sure about that,” Zane said slowly, making no attempt to release her. She sagged wearily against him. “But we both know that Dustin posed as a rival bidder, interested in Ethan Rivers’s horses, when in fact Ethan was Ellery and Dustin was his brother. Dustin admitted to bidding on his own horses, just to drive the prices up.”
Tiffany’s throat went dry. “But I just can’t believe that Dustin would try and ruin our operation. It doesn’t make any sense. He owns part of the farm.”
Zane’s voice was firm. “Has it ever occurred to you that Dustin might want to own it all? Hasn’t he already offered to buy you out?”
“Only because he thought it was too much for me,” she whispered, but the seeds of distrust had been planted, and she hated the new feelings of doubt that were growing in her mind. Three weeks ago she would have trusted Dustin with her life. Now, because of Zane’s accusations, she was beginning to doubt the only person she could call family. She shuddered, and Zane gathered her still closer, pressing her face against his chest.
“I’m not saying that Dustin doesn’t care for you,” he said, gently stroking her hair.
“Just that he’s using me.”
“He’s the kind of man who would do just about anything to get what he wants.”
She shook her head and stared out the window. Raindrops ran down the paned glass. “Funny, that’s just what he said about you.”
Gently Zane lifted her chin with his finger, silently forcing her to look into his eyes. “I’ve done a few things in my life that I’m not proud of,” he admitted. “But I’ve never cheated or lied to anyone.”
