by Diana Palmer
“Did you know that horses are pretty savvy about people?” he interrupted. “Hurricane savaged one of my men. He wouldn’t let any of us touch him. But he let you doctor his cuts. If there was something evil in you, do you really think he’d have reacted to you that way?”
She drew in a breath. “I guess not. It just bothers me.”
“What do you know about the killer?”
“Paul—my brother-in-law—says he’s unique in the business. He’s been at it for a long time and he has a reputation. He’s managed to stay out of prison by bribing or even killing witnesses to his crimes. He’s so confident, Paul said, that he dresses himself very distinctly and wears a ring that would help anybody identify him.” She shivered. “They say he never misses.”
The thought of a bullet going into that sweet, gentle woman contracted his heart. She was unique. He’d never known anyone like her. She evoked protective instincts in him that he’d never felt.
“He won’t get to you here,” he told her. “I promise you, he won’t.”
She managed a smile. “Thanks.”
“Cold?”
“Not really. I love this coat! It’s so warm!”
He wondered that she didn’t thank him for it. She was unfailingly polite. Perhaps she’d grown to expect things from men. She was very pretty. He felt the old doubts creeping in. She could be sweet and still be like Angie. People had good qualities and bad. She might not think of using men as a failing.
He was suspicious of her. She seemed like the genuine article, but he wasn’t certain that everything about her wasn’t some sort of act. Angie had been sweet at first, curling around him like a kitten. She’d pretended to be just what he needed.
Not that she was innocent, or that she even tried to give that impression. She was ready for whatever he wanted from the day they met. Randall’s woman, but she wanted Ren, because he was richer.
His face hardened. Women loved his money. He was sick of the fawning, the coy looks, the come-hither glances. He’d been pursued for years, mostly by women his brother brought to the ranch as guests.
This one seemed different. But she was still Randall’s woman. He hated that. He’d never thought of being the only man in a woman’s life before, but as he grew older, he found that most women left him cold. He’d worked himself half to death and founded something of a ranching empire out here. But when he died, it would go to Randall. And Randall would put it on the market before the coffin was in the ground. He knew that with absolute certainty. His brother didn’t have the attachment to it that Ren had.
“You’re quiet,” she said, bringing him out of his dark thoughts.
“I was thinking about the ranch,” he said.
“Delsey told me about it,” she said. “It’s so big! I don’t see how you ever would have enough men to work that many head of cattle, or to do all the things you have to do in winter to keep the livestock from freezing to death.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “Did you watch that other DVD, the one we did of winter on the ranch?”
“Is there one?” she asked excitedly. “I didn’t see it!”
“I’ll find it for you when we get home.” He chuckled. “It shows all the hard work we do to get ready for production sales in the spring.”
“What’s a production sale?” she asked.
“A big headache.”
She laughed. “No. Really.”
“It’s when we sell off some of our herd sires, producing purebred cows, calves and yearlings. We offer them in cattle magazines, online, in trade papers, that sort of thing. Then people come in droves to the ranch and we serve barbecue and beans and entice buyers into the barn.” He chuckled. “We do a big business. But I think the food may have something to do with it. Tubbs is a master chef. He cooks for the sale.”
“Tubbs?” she exclaimed. “The Shakespeare cowboy?”
He roared. “I guess we’ll have to tell him about his new nickname,” he teased, smiling when she flushed. “Yes, him. He acts in community plays when he has free time. There isn’t a lot of it.”
“I’ve noticed that. It’s very hard work.”
“It is. But I love it.” He stopped his horse and looked around at acres and acres of land, leading into the horizon where the sharp peaks of the Tetons were just visible. There were round corrals all around the barn and into the many pastures. They were fenced and painted and well kept.
“It’s an elegant ranch.”
“Thanks. But what I love about it is the animals. I like tending to them.”
She smiled. “I love animals, too. We weren’t allowed to have them when we were growing up.” She laughed. “Sari says she’s getting a big dog and it’s going to live in the house. Paul said he had a friend who knew dog recipes.”
He chuckled. “He wouldn’t really, would he?”
“No. He loves Sari. If she wanted the moon, he’d be looking for ways to build spaceships. It’s that sort of relationship. A true love match. I’ve only ever read about them, but Sari actually found one.”
“Your sister sounds nice.”
“She is. She’s smart, too,” she added.
“You’re smart about drawing,” he replied, because there had been a note of envy in her soft voice. “You have a great talent.”
She flushed. “Thanks.”
“Going to paint the wolf?” he teased.
“Oh, yes. I’m going to start sketching as soon as we get home.”
He liked the way she said the word home. It made him think of a fire in the fireplace and food on the table. That was new.
They rode up to the porch. She dismounted and grimaced.
“I’m going to walk bowlegged for days,” she said with a laugh.
“No doubt. Legs sore?”
“Very!”
“Soak in the bathtub for a while,” he suggested, taking her horse’s reins. “I’ll walk the boys back to the stable and put them up.”
“Thanks.”
He shrugged. He gave her a long, steady look that made her heart race like crazy, made her breath catch in her throat. His black eyes held hers without blinking until she thought she’d pass out at the intensity of the look they exchanged.
Ren finally ended it. He averted his eyes. “I’ll get back to work.”
“Thanks for the ride. And the wolf introduction. I’ll never forget it.”
“Neither will I.” His voice was gruff. He turned and walked away.
She watched him, curious. He seemed to like her company, but then he’d turn away as if he hated himself for it. She wondered why as she went into the house.
* * *
REN HATED WHAT he was feeling for one of his brother’s women. She had a soft heart. He couldn’t tell her that he knew his brother never dated a woman who didn’t give out. Meredith seemed so innocent, but she belonged to Randall, who wouldn’t turn his eyes toward a virgin. It was a puzzle. He led the horses back to the barn and forcibly put the woman out of his mind.
* * *
MERRIE LOST HERSELF while doing the sketch of the wolf. She remembered every detail of him, from the way his fur grew between his ears to the slant of his yellow eyes, to the way his fur grew down his back and his long fluffy tail.
She didn’t realize how long she’d been at it until there was a knock at the door and Delsey peeked around it.
“Time for supper,” she said. “Ren’s downstairs.” She nodded toward the staircase, and gave Merrie a meaningful stare.
“Oh! Sorry, I got so lost in...!”
She stopped suddenly when Ren peered in the door over Delsey’s head.
“Well?” he asked.
“I’m coming,” she protested. “I was just...”
“The wolf. Let’s see,” he interrupted.
&nbs
p; She laughed, relieved. She pulled her sketch pad from the bed coverlet, where she’d been sprawled, and displayed her work.
“Amazing,” Ren said, captivated.
“It looks like a photograph,” Delsey said, shaking her head. “Honey, you have an amazing talent. You really should be displaying in art shows.”
“Thanks,” Merrie said softly. “I love what I do. I’m going to do a painting. This is just the preliminary sketch. I penciled in the colors, so I wouldn’t forget them.”
“Willis is going to be on top of the world when he sees it.” He chuckled. “He loves that wolf.”
“It shows. He’s a sweet animal.”
“Sweet? That wolf? He snapped at me and almost took my hand off when I brought a meal to Willis the last time he got sick!” Delsey exclaimed.
“The wolf laid his head in her lap and let her pet him,” Ren said, his black eyes soft on Merrie’s face.
“Now I know you’ve got talents.” Delsey laughed. “Taming wolves. Painting beautiful pictures.” She shook her head. “And all I can do is cook.”
“Baloney,” Merrie scoffed. “You’re a wonderful cook! Cooking is an art. You just watch those shows on TV. You’ll see!”
“Delsey could win any competition she set her mind to,” Ren agreed. “Are you coming down? Artists need feeding, too, you know.”
“I’m coming!”
She put the sketchbook down and followed them downstairs.
* * *
DELSEY HAD OUTDONE HERSELF. Ham. Mashed potatoes. Green beans that she’d cooked and canned the previous summer. Homemade rolls. And to top it off, a chocolate pound cake.
“I’m so stuffed that I’ll never make it up the stairs!” Merrie laughed. “Oh, what a meal!”
“Thanks,” Delsey said. “I figured the two of you would be tired and cold after spending most of the day out in the wind.”
“It’s snowing again,” Ren said. “I guess we’ll take the Jag to the party. It’s got better traction in snow.”
“The party?” Merrie asked.
“It’s tomorrow night. Forgot the date, did we?” he teased.
“But, you never told me when it was going to be,” she protested softly. “You just said I could go with you.” She hesitated. “I can’t dance, you know,” she added worriedly. “Daddy wouldn’t let us have music in the house, if he was home. Is dancing hard?”
“No. Well, I take that back,” he amended. “Some dancing is hard. I can’t do those impossible strange dances that some people like.”
“Impossible strange dances?” she queried softly.
He almost got lost in her eyes. Then he smiled. “The newer ones. They show them in movies.”
“Oh, those. I don’t think I could do them. And some of them look quite vulgar,” she added uncomfortably. “I’m sure I wouldn’t feel comfortable dancing like that in public.”
Delsey was beaming. Ren was smiling, but he had reservations. Maybe she was honest. But she was still Randall’s girl.
“How has Randall been?” Ren asked suddenly as he finished his second cup of coffee.
“Randall? Well, I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I haven’t talked to him since he brought me here.”
He scowled. “Don’t you have a cell phone?”
“I have six, actually,” she said shyly. “Throwaway phones. Paul said they asked him if he was a drug dealer when he bought them for me at Best Buy. It was a joke. He knows the clerk,” she added, laughing. “Paul says drug dealers use that sort of phone, so it can’t be traced. He knew I’d want to talk to Sari,” she added. “We haven’t ever been apart, except when she went to the Bahamas and almost died.” She lifted her coffee cup. “And now, of course. I miss her.”
“You can call her on the house phone anytime you like,” Ren said.
“I know. But I wouldn’t dare. Paul said there are ways to trace a call without going into a house where the phone is. The man might have somebody monitoring Sari’s calls. If he sees a number he can check out...well, it might be bad.”
“I’d forgotten about your stalker,” Delsey said. “I hope they can stop him. It must be awful.”
“It really is,” she said. “The cake was wonderful, Delsey. I’m going to go work on my drawing for a while before I go to sleep. Ren,” she added, “thanks for taking me to see the wolf. It really was awesome.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome, Meredith. Sleep well.”
“You, too. And Delsey.”
She left them and went upstairs, already lost in her drawing and the changes she had to make.
* * *
“MEN WHO STALK women should be locked up,” Delsey muttered. “Especially a nice girl like Merrie.”
Ren almost told her the truth. But Meredith hadn’t corrected Delsey when she’d called the man a stalker. He wasn’t going to, either. It would just worry the older woman, who was like a surrogate mother to him. He’d tell her when he had to.
“Yes,” he agreed. “They should.”
She glanced at him. “Your mother called.”
He froze. “Did she?”
“I know you don’t communicate with her, but she’s had some sort of medical test, and she’s worried. She wanted to talk to you.”
His jaw was set in stone. “Did she?” he repeated.
She drew in a long breath. “After someone’s gone, there’re no more opportunities to mend broken fences. You know what I mean?”
He nodded. A short jerk of his head.
“I hated my father,” she told him while she cleared away the dishes. “He left my mother for another woman and I never saw him again. Years later, his new wife walked out on him and my mother had died. I was living with a cousin and going to school. Dad called wanting to speak to me. I refused.” She stacked the plates together. “He died two days later in a car wreck.” She smiled sadly. “Maybe he wanted to apologize, or try to explain what he’d done. I won’t ever know. He didn’t leave a will or anything in writing. It’s like a story that has a beginning and a middle, but no end. I’ll always wonder what he wanted to say.” She picked up the plates. “I lost my chance. You haven’t lost yours, yet.” With that, she walked back into the kitchen.
He went into the living room and sat down. He turned on the television to a news program, but he wasn’t really paying attention to what they were saying. He was thinking about what Delsey had said.
He’d hated his mother for years, blamed her for what he’d overheard. She’d said that Ren was cold and cruel like his father, that he was nothing like Randall’s sweet father, whom she’d loved with all her heart.
Ren had tried to tolerate her. He visited her home infrequently when he was in college, mainly to see his brother. He loved Randall. They were very different, but the younger man had a heart of pure gold. Ren had been happy to give him an interest in the ranch, to see him grow into a fine, solid businessman who was an asset to the ranch. The only thing about his brother that he really disliked was the way he used women.
Ren hadn’t seen his mother since he’d walked out. He’d been in his last year of college. It had been Christmas. He’d hated the holiday ever since. He didn’t tolerate it in his house. Delsey, of course, had a Christmas tree in her room. His cowboys celebrated, too, with colored lights on their small houses and presents for their children under the tree. He’d wanted to outlaw any celebrations on his ranch, but Delsey had reminded him that he didn’t have the right to tell people what to believe. She’d been kind, but firm. Didn’t he remember when his mother and father used to take him to church? she’d asked softly.
He did. He hated the memory. It was when they were a family. He’d sit in his dad’s lap and “drive” the car down the long road to the house. His father held the steering wheel, of course. Those had been bright, happy days. So soon
over.
He remembered his father yelling at his mother for being unfaithful with his best friend, sleeping with a man when she was still married to him. His father had gone almost mad with the pain. His mother had said she was sorry, but she loved the other man and she was leaving and taking Ren with her.
That had led to a vicious custody battle, but his mother had won. The judge had felt that a boy’s place was with his mother. Ren had hated her for taking him away. He’d hated the other man, whom she’d married when the divorce was final.
Randall’s father had been kind. Probably kinder than a rebellious ten-year-old deserved. He’d tolerated the icy glares, the sullen temper, the lack of words. Ren hadn’t spoken a single word to him that wasn’t forced out of him. His mother had despaired.
But then Randall had been born. And Ren had changed overnight. The baby fascinated him. He loved to look at him, to watch him. He was crazy about him from the beginning. He helped his mother with feedings, and he watched the baby while she shopped; he absolutely loved Randall.
That had continued as the baby grew into a toddler, and then a preschooler. Ren was in college by the time Randall was in elementary school, and when he graduated, Randall was in the audience with his mother and father. Ren’s father wasn’t there, because he didn’t have the price of a bus ticket. But he’d phoned Ren, to express his pride.
That had brought back the memories, and they weren’t good ones, of why he and his mother were living with Randall’s dad. Ren’s father had lost his whole family, all at one time. He’d grieved for years.
That Christmas, after graduating in the spring with his bachelor’s degree, Ren had started work on his master’s, paying for it with scholarships, because he had a brilliant mind. He was living in the dorm, and he’d come home just to see Randall, whose father had died two years previously.
And he’d overheard what his mother said, when he’d been sarcastic about the Christmas tree and the whole idea of celebrating the holiday. In college he’d been taught that God was a myth, a superstition that held people back from excelling in life. His gorgeous female physics professor had assured her class of that. Ren had a crush on her, so he believed everything she said.
