Hunter's Moon (Hunter Family Saga; Half-Moon Ranch 1)

by Bobbi Smith

  Damn Brent Hunter!

  Edmund was going to have to find another way to get to Jack Hunter. And he would; he had no doubt about it.

  Edmund went to stare out his office window. It appeared a calm, ordinary day on the streets of Diablo, but deep in his heart he knew there was nothing ordinary about it.

  It was almost dark when Brent and Jack finally decided to stop and make camp for the night. Little had been said during the day, and the tension had worn on Brent. They were going to have to set things straight between them before they reached the Half-Moon, and as far as he was concerned, the sooner they did it, the better.

  "We need to talk," Brent declared as he sat down across the campfire from his father.

  "What about?" Jack returned.

  "About what's going to happen once we get back to the ranch."

  "We're going to go to work-that's what's going to happen," his father answered.

  "What the hell do you think I've been doing while you've been gone?" Brent demanded, becoming angry. "I've done nothing but work-to keep from losing the ranch. Did you have any idea how deep in debt you were?"

  "I had to build the bloodlines. It was the only way."

  "No, it wasn't the only way, and I've proven that."

  "You've proven what?"

  "I got us out of debt by learning everything I could about horseflesh, by hard work, and by saving every penny I could. We don't owe anybody right now, and I intend to keep it that way."

  "You intend to keep it that way?"

  "That's right."

  "My name is on the deed," Jack said coldly. "The Half-Moon is my ranch."

  "Because I saved it." Brent glared at his father.

  "You? What about your brothers?"

  "Quince and I had a fight, and he left about five years ago."

  "What did you fight about?"

  "Quince didn't like the way I was running things. I told him if he didn't like it he could leave, and he did. Last we heard, he was out hunting renegades for the army."

  "And Matt? Did he ever show up?"

  "He started mustanging and training horses for ranches west of here. He brings us some mustangs and the money he's earned, but otherwise we don't see much of him. He did some betting on horse racing, but he used his own money. His gambling never cost the Half-Moon anything. Right now he's in England, looking to buy a thoroughbred with the money he's won."

  "So what you really mean is, he's run off again."

  "I told him that's what he was doing, but it didn't stop him from going." Brent shook his head, thinking of his youngest brother and the wild streak that hadn't faded with the years. He'd told Matt he was stupid to waste his time and money going to England, but his brother was not to be deterred. Racehorses were an obsession with him. They were his passion. Matt was very much like their father that way.

  "I'm sure it didn't," Jack said, sneering. "And I'll bet that's the last you'll see of him. He won't be back."

  Brent was shocked. "Sure he will. Matt thinks he can make us some big money with the horse he's after."

  "We'll see." Jack did not want to hear another word about Matt. "How is Abby?"

  "She's not the little girl you remember."

  "No, I don't suppose she is."

  "She works hard around the ranch. She can ride and rope with the best of the men."

  "So she hasn't married yet?"

  "Not yet." Brent didn't remark on the trouble he had trying to get Abby to start dressing and behaving like a female. Brent girded himself as he went on, finally broaching the subject he'd so far avoided. "You know, this isn't going to be easy, you coming back to the ranch."

  "I didn't think it would be."

  "I'm just telling you the truth. We're never going to be able to forget what happened that day, though God knows we've tried over the years."

  "The Half-Moon is my home. That's where I'm going. If you don't like it, you can leave."

  Brent looked him straight in the eye, his expression stony. "That isn't going to happen. You put me in charge ten years ago, and I intend to stay in charge."

  It had been five days of hard riding and little conversation, but Brent and his father had finally arrived. They were at the Half-Moon.

  They were home.

  Leaving the horses hitched in front of the house, they walked up the few porch steps to the door. Brent knew this would be his father's first time in the house since the day of the shooting, and he wondered how he was going to react. He waited as his father entered the house before him, then followed him in.

  Jack stopped just inside the door and stood looking around.

  "Nothing's changed." He sounded amazed.

  "Everything has changed," Brent stated flatly, closing the door behind him.

  Jack moved forward. When his gaze fell upon the portrait of Beth still gracing the wall over the fireplace, turbulent emotion was evident on his face.

  "Your mother was a very beautiful woman."

  "Yes, she was," Brent answered. He clenched his fists in an effort to control his anger. He wanted to rage at his father that it was only because of him that she was gone. "We buried her in the family plot."

  Jack nodded, then looked around. "Where's Abby?"

  "Hard to say."

  "You don't keep track of your little sister?" he asked.

  "Abby is not so `little' anymore, and besides, I've been gone for almost two weeks. There's no way of knowing where she might be," Brent said coldly.

  "Well, she should be here at the house."

  Brent's mouth twisted in a sardonic smile. "Abby doesn't spend much time around the house. Usually she's out working with the horses or checking stock. I already told you she can ride and rope."

  "That's no job for her."

  "I'm sure she'll be interested to hear your opinion on that, since she's been doing it for years now.

  "Oh, Brent, you're back." Frances Riley, the housekeeper who'd been hired while Jack was in prison, had been working in the kitchen when she'd heard the sound of voices.

  "We just got here," Brent told her.

  "You must be Frances," Jack said quietly. "Brent's told me about you."

  She nodded in his direction, then quickly looked back at Brent. She didn't want anything to do with Jack.

  "Is Abby around?"

  "No. She went into town yesterday for a visit with Iona."

  "Iona?" Jack repeated, surprised at the mention of her name. It had been so long since he'd seen any of his friends.

  "She helped Abby a lot right after..." Brent paused, then went on, "They've stayed close ever since."

  "And Edmund? How is he?"

  "As successful as ever," Brent answered, hoping his silent resentment didn't show. He had never been able to forget Edmund's coldness the day he'd shown him the extent of the Half-Moon's debts. He looked at Frances. "When is Abby coming back?"

  "Sometime tonight," Frances told them. "She just needed to get away for a little while."

  Brent understood what Frances wasn't sayingthat Abby was torn by the prospect of their father's return and needed time away to gather her thoughts and prepare herself to see him again.

  "Are you two hungry?" she offered. "Would you like anything to eat?"

  "No, not right now."

  "Well, if you change your mind I'll be in the kitchen." She directed her comment to Brent.

  "Thanks."

  She hurried off, leaving the two men alone.

  Jack was tense as he glanced up at his wife's portrait again. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. He realized painfully that Brent had been right.

  "The front bedroom is still yours," Brent said.

  "You didn't take it over, too?" His tone was sharp with resentment.

  Jack turned away from Brent and stalked off to the master bedroom. He didn't pause before the closed door, but opened it and went on in, shutting it behind him.

  Jack had thought seeing the house again had been painful, but nothing had prepared him for the sig
ht of his and Beth's bedroom. The room was seemingly untouched even after all these years. He closed his eyes, fighting back the stabbing ache of emptiness that filled him. This room had been their haven. He and Beth had always found their bliss there-in the wide comfort of their marriage bed-holding each other, loving each other. But that comfort was lost to him now-forever.

  Memories of Beth overwhelmed him suddenlyall the joy they'd shared and all the love. He sank down on the side of the bed, struggling for control.

  This room might look the same, but it would never be the same. Nothing would. Life as he'd known it was over. There was no going back.

  There had been times during his long years in prison when Jack had dreamed of this moment-of being free and back home. But he felt no elation, no thrill at being home. He felt only sorrow for all that had been lost.

  Jack remembered his dreams for their future, and all that had been lost on that fateful day...

  It had been a long, long time since Jack had had a drink, but he desperately needed one. He got up and left the bedroom. He'd always kept his whiskey in the cabinet right by the dining room table, and he was glad to see the cabinet was still there. He was a driven man as he strode to it and opened the door. He stared inside in great frustration. There was no liquor of any kind. It was empty.

  "Damn it!" In a frustrated fury, he slammed the door shut.

  "What are you looking for?" Brent asked. He had been in the back of the house, but heard the commotion.

  "Where's the whiskey?"

  Brent went cold as he faced him down. "There isn t any."

  "Why the hell not? I need a drink."

  Brent's expression hardened even more. "I would think after what happened the last time you got drunk, you'd never want to touch another drop of liquor." His words had the desired effect. His father went pale, "Ma would still be alive if you hadn't been drunk that day. Since then, I don't allow liquor in this house-ever."

  Jack glared at him, shaken and yet furious, too, over being denied what he needed. He turned away and stormed out of the house.

  Brent watched him go. He didn't care how angry his father was.

  "There's no way to avoid this, is there?" Abby looked at Iona as Edmund drove them back to the ranch late that afternoon.

  She was seated between the couple, a place that should have made her feel secure. Instead she felt suffocated, as if all the open air in Texas wouldn't be enough to help her draw a deep, peaceful breath ever again.

  Distracted as Iona often was lately, she didn't answer Abby right away. She appeared almost confused for a moment before finally responding, "No, dear, there's not. I wish I could make it easier for you, but I can't."

  Iona's seeming confusion and the unsteadiness in her voice made Abby feel worse, for it reminded her of what she had learned in town earlier that day. Iona had been like a mother to her since her own mother had died. Abby loved her dearly. When she'd overheard Mrs. Spindle and Mrs. Herbert talk ing about her in the general store, saying that she had a problem with drinking spirits, Abby had been ready to defend Iona. She had wanted to confront them and make them apologize for their hatefulness, but in that moment she'd realized that what they were saying was the truth. It explained why Iona always drenched herself in rose water-she did it to cover the smell-of the liquor.

  Abby felt fiercely protective of Iona, and she wondered where her daughter, Juliana, was. Juliana had married young and then been widowed. The last Abby had heard, she was living back east somewhere. Abby believed Juliana should have come home to take care of her mother. If her own mother had been alive, she would never have abandoned her in such a way.

  "I'm here for you, Abby," Iona told her with a reassuring smile, extending a shaking hand to her.

  "I know," she answered, smiling weakly in return as the carriage turned up the road to the main house. "I guess it's time to get this over with. It's not going to get any easier, no matter how long I try to avoid

  She felt Edmund's eyes on her, and an unexplained shiver went through her.

  "You're certain they'll be here?" he asked.

  "According to what Brent told me when he left, they were due back today."

  He reached over and patted her hands, which were clutched tightly in her lap. "I'm glad that we're with you."

  She shifted free of his touch.

  "I am, too," she said, and tried to mean it. Staring straight ahead, she steeled herself for the confrontation to come.

  Jack had been furious when he'd left the house. Needing to get away, he'd headed for the stables to have a look around.

  No liquor...

  He had been ten long years without a drink, and he'd desperately needed one today. There might not be any whiskey on the Half-Moon right now, but he'd take care of that the next time he went into town.

  "Jack? Is that you?" Curly had been working in the stable and was surprised to see his old boss standing in the doorway.

  "It's me. I'm back," he answered, glad to see the longtime hired hand.

  Curly stopped what he was doing and went to speak with him. "Brent said you'd be coming back. It's been a long time."

  "Too long. How have you been?" he asked.

  "Fine. We had some hard years here on the ranch, but everything's worked out now. Brent's done a good job."

  Jack wasn't about to give Brent credit for anything. He was the one who had worked endlessly to establish the Half-Moon as a thoroughbred ranch. Raising racehorses was his dream. "What about the bloodlines?"

  Curly shrugged. "Brent said there was more money in breeding and training working stock, and he was right. It's hard work, but we've gotten good at it.

  Jack didn't want to hear him sing Brent's praises anymore. By taking up mustanging and concentrating on cow ponies and the like, his son had forsaken everything he'd planned for the ranch. The Half-Moon was his ranch, not Brent's! He had worked his whole life toward achieving his dream, and now he was going to have to start all over again.

  Start over ...The thought jarred Jack, for in the past he'd always had Beth's support.

  Beth...

  Jack suddenly needed to get away by himself for a while.

  "Well, it's good to be here," Jack told Curly as he moved off.

  The ranch hand nodded and watched him leave the stable. He thought Jack was a sad figure of a man now, nothing like the vital, commanding boss he used to be.

  Jack left the stable. He knew where he had to go, and he was glad there was no one else around. He needed to be alone for what he had to do. He made his way to the family cemetery a distance away from the house.

  Elizabeth Quincy Hunter

  Jack stared down at Beth's name on the tombstone.

  If only he could turn back time. If only he could change what had happened that day. If only...

  Pain tore through him. Anger rose up within him. There could be no changing what had happened. There was no way to make things right again.

  Beth was dead.

  So deep was Jack's grief as he mourned at his wife's graveside, he didn't notice the carriage arriving at the house.

  "Don't be nervous, dear; everything is going to be all right. We're here with you," Iona told Abby as Edmund brought the carriage to a stop before the house.

  "Thank you." She gave the older woman a heartfelt look as she mentally prepared herself for what was to come. No matter what Iona's problems were, the older woman's presence would be welcome at her father's homecoming.

  Abby took a deep breath and descended from the carriage. Iona had wanted her to wear a dress today, but she'd decided not to. She wore pants to work around the ranch, and the good Lord knew today was going to be work.

  Just as Abby turned and started up the walk, the front door opened. Abby actually found herself holding her breath as she waited to see who was going to come outside. Relief flooded through her when she saw it was Brent.

  "So you're back," Abby said, her expression still wary as she glanced past him, expecting to see their father followin
g him.

  "We got back a few hours ago," Brent explained. Then he looked at the banker and his wife. "Hello, Iona, Edmund."

  They returned his greeting as they, too, climbed down from the carriage.

  "So Papa did come with you. He's really here?" Abby asked.

  "Yes."

  "Where is Jack?" Edmund inquired.

  "I don't know for sure. He left the house a while ago, and I haven't seen him since."

  "You don't sound too concerned," Edmund remarked.

  "I'm not. He'll be back. Come on inside." Brent held the door for his sister as Edmund took lona's arm to steady her as he helped her up the porch steps and into the house.

  "How is Papa?" Abby asked once they'd settled in.

  Brent shrugged. "The years in the Huntsville prison were hard on him. His return isn't going to be easy-for any of us."

  "I know." She had adored her father as a young girl, but all that had changed on that horrible, fateful day. "Why did he come back at all, Brent? Why?"

  "He says the Half-Moon is his home, and he's staying.

  "He always loved this ranch," Edmund agreed.

  "And he almost lost it, too," Brent said, unable to disguise the note of bitterness in his voice. "Edmund." He looked the banker straight in the eye. "Before Pa gets back here, I want you to give me your word that you won't make any more loans to him if he comes to you."

  "Do you think he might?" Edmund asked.

  "Anything is possible with Pa, but we've worked too hard getting the Half-Moon out of debt. I don't want to put the whole place at risk again over any of his wild-eyed schemes."

  The banker's eyes narrowed, but his voice was as silky as ever.

  "I'll do what I can to support you, Brent, but your father is still the ranch's rightful owner, isn't he?"

  "His name may be on the title," he admitted, "but when he left, he put me in charge."

  "You know, Brent, if the situation did arise, you'd be far better off borrowing from me than anyone else."

  "The situation is not going to arise. We won't be borrowing money from anyone ever again," Brent declared fiercely, remembering all too clearly how hard-pressed he had been to make their payments on time. Edmund had never been able to seize their property, but after their conversation ten years ago, he'd known the banker wouldn't have hesitated to take it if they'd fallen behind.