Finding Forever

by Nika Rhone

  “She is,” his father said after a long hesitation, apparently accepting they still weren’t going to talk about it. “It’s more than just looks, though. She’s got heart.”

  “And a little bit of attitude.” Daryl grinned when the mare gave a little buck to express her displeasure at not being brought up to full speed when she so clearly wanted to run.

  “All the best ones do.”

  True enough. His old rodeo horse, Jasper, had had the heart of a champion, but he would still dump Daryl right over his head if he felt slighted in any way. It had kept either of them from getting too complacent with the other. “Is she one of yours or a boarder?” The ranch had gained enough of a reputation for the training techniques of the horses they raised and sold that people had started bringing their own horses to his father to be trained.

  People thought Hank Raintree was some kind of Native American horse whisperer. Daryl wondered what they’d think if they knew his success had more to do with the pure bull-headedness he’d gained in the Marine Corps than from his Lakota Sioux heritage.

  “One of ours, out of Black Ember.”

  Daryl didn’t recognize the name of the mare’s dam, but then, he hadn’t been around much over the past six years, or really even the years before that, not when he could help it. He’d been too busy riding the rodeo circuit all over the Southwest back then, trying to figure out what it was, exactly, he was supposed to do with his life. Where he belonged. Because it sure as hell hadn’t been on the ranch. That much he’d known for a lot longer than he’d been looking.

  “So. The girl you brought with you.”

  His father had accepted the bare minimum of explanation when he appeared at the door late the night before—really, early that morning, since it had been closer to one by the time he pulled his truck into the large barn where they kept the few pieces of big equipment stored. It was a sign of supreme restraint on his dad’s part that he’d waited this long to be read into what was really going on.

  As succinctly as he could, Daryl explained Amelia’s situation. It was clear from the tightening of the skin around his father’s mouth he saw the same implications in those actions that Daryl had.

  “Has she spoken to her parents since you didn’t show up for the planned meeting?”

  “Spoken, no. But she did send them a text saying she was taking some time to herself to let everyone’s tempers cool off.”

  “Talking would have been better.”

  “I know,” Daryl replied with a grimace, remembering the look of absolute devastation on Amelia’s face when she’d realized the truth. “But I don’t think she would have been able to handle it. Not yet.” Not while the betrayal was still so fresh and painful.

  “So, you’re hoping to just hole up and wait them out until they don’t have the option of coercing her back to the altar?”

  “That’s the idea. The best we could come up with, anyway. If you have any other thoughts, I’d be happy to hear them.” Hank might not have any experience with politicians, but after eighteen years in the military, he understood strategy.

  “I’ll think on it some.”

  They watched Chaska work the horse for a few more minutes. Finally satisfied with the mare’s cooperation, he allowed her to pick up her pace, her gait smooth and fluid as Chaska paid out the line, giving her a larger circle to gallop until she was running within a few feet of the fence line.

  “How important is she to you?”

  The question surprised Daryl into twisting to look at his father. Hank kept his eyes on the mare, but Daryl knew most of his father’s attention was on him. “She’s a client.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  The soft grunt that his father used when he wasn’t agreeing or disagreeing had Daryl shaking his head as he turned back to the action in the corral. There wasn’t anything more to his helping Amelia than that. True, she seemed to bring out the bone-deep protective streak he had for the weak and helpless, but that was because she was so damn frail. Hell, he’d been afraid of snapping one of her delicate bones with his big Sloth-like hands when he carried her into the house the night before. She weighed no more than a baby bird in his arms. How could he not feel protective?

  “It would be safer if no one knows who she is while she’s here,” Daryl said. “Especially Winnie.” Not that he thought anyone from the Westlake camp would track her down to the ranch, but small communities sometimes bred the biggest mouths. And his little sister owned the biggest of the big. If she knew who Amelia was, it wouldn’t be long before everybody knew.

  “Your sister has her own secrets these days. She won’t have time to be worrying about yours.”

  “Aw, hell, what’s she gone and done now?”

  “You should speak with her while you’re here.”

  Daryl waited, but it seemed as though that was the only answer he would get. Great. His father may have spent half of his adult life living in the white man’s world, but he could always be relied on to be taciturn and inscrutable whenever the role suited him.

  The mare reversed direction and went through several other maneuvers, her black tail high as she nailed every action requested of her as though she knew she’d been a model student.

  “Do you think the parents would try to force Amelia into a marriage she doesn’t want?”

  Daryl thought over the times he’d come into contact with the senior Westlakes through the years. They were cold, shallow, manipulative people. He couldn’t remember a single time either had shown a speck of human warmth toward their only child. Maybe they were different when they were in private, but he doubted it.

  “Yeah, I do. But there wouldn’t be much force involved. They’re so damned skilled at manipulation she’d go back thinking it was her idea in the first place.”

  “It sounds as though you think of this woman as weak-willed.”

  “Not exactly that,” Daryl replied, not liking the way that made Amelia sound. Or him. “If she was weak-willed, she would have never found the courage to break the engagement in the first place.”

  “But she chose to run rather than stand her ground. That makes her weak.”

  “No, that makes her smart. She’s been molded her whole life to do as she was expected. That’s not something that can just be changed overnight.”

  “Habits of a lifetime are the hardest to break.”

  “Exactly.” But there was something in his father’s tone that had Daryl wondering if there hadn’t been a double meaning to his words. As Chaska brought the mare down into a cool-off walk, Daryl glanced at his watch and straightened from the fence.

  “She’ll be fine without you hovering at her bedroom door.”

  Somehow his father always seemed to know his thoughts. One of many reasons living on the ranch had become too uncomfortable as a teen.

  “I should still check on her. She’ll be waking up in a strange place.” She’d been so deeply asleep when he carried her into the house he doubted she even registered the move. Going to sleep in one place and waking in another, especially an unfamiliar one, could be disconcerting in the best of times. And these weren’t.

  “Looks as though she managed well enough without you.” Hank nodded toward the house.

  Daryl turned and let out a small sigh of relief at the sight of the two women walking toward them. She’d been drained, both emotionally and physically, but the longer she’d slept, the more uneasy he got about Amelia’s health. The last thing he needed while they were in hiding was for her to get sick.

  She didn’t look sick, he decided as she got closer. She didn’t look the perfect image of health, either, with her drawn cheeks and the blue tint that skimmed in half-moons under her eyes, but at least she looked less likely to collapse today.

  Something else was different about her as well, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Maybe it was the sweats and T-shirt. Had he ever seen her dressed that casual? When she came to the Fordham estate to hang out with Thea, sh
e’d always been dressed in what he thought of as “young Grace Kelly chic.” Slacks, blouse, heels, hair and makeup, the whole nine yards. Even the day before, when forced to wear borrowed clothes, she’d been almost as put together as usual. He didn’t think he’d seen her looking like a normal, everyday person before.

  It was a little weird.

  “Good morning,” he said, feeling more awkward than he had the previous day, although he didn’t know why. “I’m sorry I wasn’t inside when you woke up. Did you sleep okay?”

  “Perfectly, thank you.”

  Was that a hint of a blush on her cheeks? He had no idea why there would be, but it sure looked like it to him.

  “You’ve obviously met Kim,” Daryl said, shaking off the odd feeling he’d done something wrong. “This is my father, Hanska Raintree. Dad, this is Amelia Westlake.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Raintree.” Amelia offered her hand. “I want to thank you for allowing me to impose on your hospitality. Your wife already said it wasn’t necessary, but I still wanted to apologize for just showing up in the middle of the night like we did.”

  Hank shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, too; Hank will do just fine. And no apologies needed. Daryl knows the door is always open whenever he chooses to stop by, no matter the time or the reason.”

  Amelia might not have heard the small chastisement in the words, but Daryl got the point loud and clear. He shot his father a disgruntled look, but Hank was still looking at Amelia. Studying her, actually. Damn. Daryl knew that look. It was time to nip the inquisition in the bud.

  “Have you eaten?” Daryl asked Amelia.

  “Yes, your mother made me a delicious late breakfast, although she shouldn’t have gone to all the trouble.” She aimed a grateful smile at Kim, who gave a gracious nod at the compliment.

  He’d have to ask Kim later how much of that delicious breakfast Amelia had actually eaten. “Good.”

  “Oh.” Amelia’s soft exhalation of admiration diverted him from his next question. He followed her line of sight to the mare in the corral behind him.

  “This is Giselle. She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Daryl invited her with a gesture to join him at the fence for a closer look.

  “Oh, she is.” Amelia stepped next to him and peering over the top rail. “She truly is.”

  Daryl didn’t see it, but his father must have signaled to Chaska to bring the horse closer. Standing nearly sixteen hands tall, the mare towered over her. After first greeting Hank with a blowy snuffle that nearly knocked his hat off his head, Giselle turned her curious gaze onto the two strangers. Amelia made another of those little “oh” sounds as she craned her neck back to look up at the horse.

  “Here.” Daryl grasped her by the waist and swung her up so she could stand on the bottom fence rail. He’d done the same thing hundreds of times for his sister, so the action was automatic. It wasn’t until afterward he realized he probably should have asked before manhandling her like that.

  Not that Amelia seemed to care. After her initial squeak of surprise, she was all about cooing to the horse that had brushed past Daryl and was eating up the attention, dipping her head so that Amelia could scratch behind her ears.

  “Careful,” Hank said even as he grinned at the sight the horse and woman made, “she can get a little lippy when she’s in a mood.”

  Nodding, Amelia continued to run her hands along the mare’s head and down her neck while the horse snorted and pranced in place.

  “That’s a favorite spot of hers right there, miss,” Chaska said, the horse uttering what could only be called a groan of pure pleasure. “Just be careful that she doesn’t—”

  Only reflexes honed from years of working around horses allowed Daryl to step behind Amelia and brace her with his body against the unintentional push the horse gave with her head, trying to get Amelia’s hand right where she wanted it. Amelia gasped and then laughed as Daryl steadied her.

  “—do that,” Chaska finished wryly, shaking his head. “Sorry about that. She’s still a bit like a big puppy. She doesn’t understand her own strength.”

  “No harm done,” Amelia said with a grin, “but I’ll definitely pay more attention next time.” She stuck out one hand, continuing to stroke the horse’s neck with the other. “I’m Amelia, by the way.”

  Looking a little bemused at the delicate white hand being offered, Chaska finally took it. “Chaska Everheart,” he said, giving her hand an almost reverent shake. “But you can call me Chaz.”

  Amelia smiled. “Well, Chaz, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope we didn’t interrupt your training session.”

  Chaz seemed a little dazzled by the wattage of the smile aimed at him. “No, no, we were just finishing up. I, ah, do need to take this little lady to get rubbed down and turned out, though.” He shot an odd look at Daryl and ducked his head, but not before Daryl saw the grin that quirked his lips.

  It was only then Daryl realized he was still standing behind Amelia, his hands gripping the top rail on either side of her, the front of his body snug against the back of hers like a stallion covering a mare. He let go of the fence and stepped back as though singed.

  “Daryl and Miss Amelia will be visiting for a spell,” Hank said.

  “Well, then, I’m sure we’ll see each other again sometime soon. Miss. Ma’am.” With a dip of his head to both Amelia and Kim, he gave a short click of his tongue and led the mare toward the barn.

  Chaska hadn’t meant his comment in any way other than being factual and polite, but Daryl still found himself irritated. And he blamed Amelia. She needed to be a lot more careful where she aimed that smile of hers. Didn’t she understand its potency on unsuspecting men? Daryl might have understood she was merely being her usual nice self, but some men might get the wrong idea from a smile like that.

  Some men like Chaz.

  Suddenly, Daryl wasn’t all that sorry for the impression he’d given earlier by his possessive stance, unintentional as it had been. Since he couldn’t explain who Amelia was or why she was there, it would be helpful if it was assumed she was already spoken for. That meant there would be less people he needed to pound into the ground when they started hitting on her, and judging by the look on Chaska’s face, they would be hitting on her.

  “Daryl, why don’t you show Amelia around so she has an idea of where things are?” his father said.

  Daryl looked at Amelia as she jumped down from the rail. “I don’t know if—”

  “I’d like that,” Amelia said.

  Drag the princess around through the dirt and horse manure? That didn’t sound like an ideal plan to him. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve been around barns and horses before, remember?” Smiling at his parents, she said, “Thank you again for your hospitality.”

  The tour helped Daryl reacquaint himself with the ranch. There had been several changes since he’d last been around, the most notable being the second barn. On closer inspection, it turned out to be an indoor training arena, a suggestion he’d made more than once in the past to allow training to continue during the sometimes brutal South Dakota winters. A suggestion his father had disregarded every time it came up.

  Until now, it seemed.

  Not sure what to make of this apparent change of heart, a change his father had never mentioned during their admittedly sporadic phone conversations, Daryl tucked it away for later consideration. He concentrated instead on the woman who was chatting away with another of his father’s hands, who had been mucking out the stall of the very pregnant mare cross-tied in the aisle whose swollen sides made her look like a tick about to pop.

  Daryl stroked the mare’s neck as he half-listened to them talk. The hand, who couldn’t have been more than seventeen and thin as a rail, was hanging on Amelia’s every word like it was manna from heaven. He really did need to tell her to tone down the smile she flashed at the kid before leaving him to his work. There was a look of pure adoration on his face as he watched her go. Right up until he saw
Daryl watching him watch her. The look in his eyes changed to panic, and he turned back to his chores so fast he nearly tripped over his rake, saved from going headfirst into the steaming pile of hay and manure by the grace of youthful flexibility and sheer dumb luck.

  Amelia, lucky for the kid, noticed none of it.

  By the time they reached the house, the tip of Amelia’s nose was turning pink. Daryl realized he should have found her a hat to wear before dragging her around in the bright sun. With her fair skin, she’d burn up like a crisp in no time.

  Boots, too. If Amelia was going to spend the next week tromping around the horses instead of staying safe and clean inside the house, she needed something with a bit more protection than her sneakers, which already looked a little worse for wear. Maybe he could borrow a pair from his sister.

  That thought reminded him of his father’s earlier cryptic remark about secrets. What kind of mess had his pesky little sister gotten herself into now? At least asking her about the boots and hat for Amelia was a good excuse for him to go and find out.

  It turned out, he didn’t need an excuse. Once they were inside the house, he was nearly knocked on his ass by Winnie’s exuberant greeting. She jumped on him, hugging him so hard that he couldn’t help but feel what his suddenly numb brain was telling him. He tried to deny it, but the firmly rounded belly she was sporting under her loose blouse didn’t lie. His baby sister—his twenty-one-year-old single baby sister—was most definitely pregnant.

  Someone was going to die.

  Chapter Ten

  “I’ll kill him.”

  After freezing for a brief second at his growled words, Winona unwrapped her arms from Daryl’s neck and took a step away from him, her back straight and proud. “It’s good to see you, too, Mato.”

  Unwilling to be diverted by either her stick-up-the-butt attitude or her use of his middle name, the one she only used when she wanted to annoy him, Daryl asked in the same lethal tone, “Who is he?”

  “Do you think I’d tell you after you just threatened something like that?”