by Janet Dailey
"No!" she retaliated vigorously. "Because you keep rubbing it in that it was my fault. I've already admitted that it was, but you keep wanting me to grovel. Well, I won't! I feel horrible enough."
Her eyes smarted with angry tears that she refused to shed, self-pity and guilt warring with her dislike for Morgan Kincaid.
"Maybe I feel some guilt, too," he told her coldly. "I knew something like this would happen. I shouldn't have allowed those jumps to be raised." They were at the steps of the trailer when he set her on her feet, his hands keeping a grip on her shoulders while his narrowed gaze studied her upturned face, slightly startled and surprised by his unexpected admission that he was in any way to blame. "Part of the responsibility is mine for allowing that stubborn streak of pride you possess to influence me."
In the few seconds it took Patty to adjust to this new discovery, the trailer door was opened and Morgan was shoving her roughly inside. She found herself angered by his admission,
"If you feel that way," she turned on him roundly, her brown eyes snapping as he closed the door, "then why were you so mean? You never even once asked if I was all right! You simply threatened to break my neck!"
His hands were on his hips, accepting the challenge she was laying down. "I've come to the conclusion that that's the only way to handle you. Otherwise you're so intent on proving that you're some kind of superhuman female that you'd end up killing yourself. Put me back on the horses,'" he mimicked. "The minute your grandfather arrived, you insisted on trying to prove what a heroine you were."
"That's what you're supposed to do when you've been thrown or have fallen."
"Not when you're too dazed to know if you're hurt or not!"
"Well, I wasn't hurt," Patty argued.
"But you could have been!" Morgan shouted back. "You could have broken your bloody neck!"
"I know that!" Her body was trembling with the supreme effort of checking her tears. Bailing her fingers into tight fists, she turned from him. "Why do you always have to pick on me?" she demanded angrily. "Why can't you ever be civil? You always have to shout and order me around and tell me all the things I'm doing wrong."
"Somebody had better," he responded shortly. "You seem incapable of seeing how idiotically you behave."
"And that's why you keep tearing me down?" Patty flashed, brown eyes snapping as she darted him a fiery look. "Calling me Skinny and kid and a pint-sized Annie Oakley? Doesn't it ever occur to you that those names might hurt?"
"I thought you had an armadillo hide to go along with your stiff upper lip," mocked Morgan harshly.
"Well, I don't!" Her hair danced around her shoulders at the vigorous shake of her head. "And I don't like the way you keep making fun of me!"
"What's your suggestion?"
But she ignored his question, pursuing the trend of her own thoughts. "Why can't you ever behave decently toward me? Instead of always mocking me and laughing at what I do, making me feel like a worm, why can't you treat me like an ordinary person? Grandpa likes you so much that it seems awful that we can't be friends."
"Frankly, the thought of having you for a friend leaves me cold."
"There you go again!" Patty cried, a despairing tremor in her shrill voice. "Slapping away any attempt I make with some cutting remark."
"Would you rather have me like Jack—flirting with you and stealing a few kisses to make you think you're desirable?" he asked with biting sarcasm.
"No!" The volatile explosion that accompanied her answer spun her around.
"Then what do you want?" Morgan demanded, the harsh steel glow locking her gaze.
"I don't know." A weary, despairing sigh released most of the violence within her, leaving her drained of all but an impatient kind of weakened fury. "I just know that I'm tired of all this baiting. I'm tired of trying to defend myself against all your insults. I'm tired! Do you hear? I'm tired!"
At the last feverish exclamation, Morgan stepped forward, his hands closing over her shoulders as an impatiently resigned expression stole over his face.
"You're getting hysterical," he said grimly. "The reaction to your accident is beginning to set in."
She tried to twist her shoulders free of his grip, a betraying wall of tears filling her eyes. "Well, I certainly don't need your shoulder to cry on."
Her weak attempt to resist was ignored as he pulled her against the hard wall of his chest, her hands still clenched in rigid fists.
"There isn't any other shoulder around," Morgan said. "You might as well use mine."
The reluctance of his offer took away what little consolation he seemed to offer. With tightly compressed lips, Patty uncurled her fingers to push away from his waist. But his strong, muscular arms had already encircled her back, becoming steel bars that refused to let her go free.
"I don't want your pity," she insisted tautly. "I don't want anything from you."
"I'm more than aware of that," Morgan answered dryly.
His hand curled around the back of her neck, forcing her head against his chest and keeping it there when Patty attempted to draw away. The steady beat of his heart and the warm hardness of his encircling arms had an enervating effect. Although reluctantly offered, there was so much comfort in just being held in someone's arms. A surrendering sigh trembled from her lips as Patty relaxed against him, waves of tiredness sweeping over her. As if she were a child, he gently rocked her from side to side and all her animosity slowly evaporated.
"I was so frightened, Morgan," Patty acknowledged, a few tears slipping from her lashes to slide down her cheeks.
"I know, kid." There was a husky softness to his voice.
His fingers wiped the tears from one cheek and brushed the hair from her face. The soothing caress was like the rough lick of a cat's tongue.
"The best thing for you to do is climb into bed and get some rest," Morgan said quietly.
Unconsciously Patty tightened the hold around his waist, not prepared to leave the security of his embrace just yet. It was so strangely right.
"Every time I close my eyes," she murmured, "I keep seeing Liberty fall. It's like watching a stop action film, a series of still frames that makes me live it all over again."
Her eyes were closed. As the pictures flashed through her mind, there was a tiny shudder of terror that quaked through her shoulders. A finger raised her unresisting chin. In the next instant the warmth of Morgan's mouth was covering hers with lazy thoroughness. The cold fear that had embraced her heart slowly melted away.
When his head was raised from hers, she was still clinging to him, her head remained tilted back against his hand, her lips trembling slightly from the satisfying pressure of his mouth. Slowly her eyes opened and she gazed into his face.
The cerulean blue of his eyes contrasted sharply with the thick sooty lashes and the ebony blackness of his waving hair. The obstinate power was in the hard lines of his features, the straight nose and strong jaw and chin. The virility, the maleness was still there. Yet Patty felt something had changed. Perhaps it was the lack of mockery in his gaze and the absence of any cynical twist to his sensual mouth.
There was a sensation that she had capitulated to something, something that she should have guarded against. Whatever it was made her heart give a frightened leap and there was a sudden, consuming necessity to say something—anything!
"What was that?" There was a thin edge of sharpness in her voice. "A kiss to make it all better?"
"Something like that." The arms around her slowly relaxed until she was standing loosely within their circle, no longer molded against his broad, muscular form. "Go to bed and get some rest." It was an order, but one that was not nearly as abrasive as she had expected. "I'll send your grandfather up so you won't be alone."
There seemed little for Patty to do except nod an agreement, because Morgan had already released her and was walking to the outside door. It was true. She didn't want to be alone. But it wasn't her grandfather that she wanted to be with her. As the door closed, she sh
ook her head vigorously to escape that disturbing feeling.
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Chapter Six
"I'M NOT SURPRISED," Patty sighed wearily, affectionately stroking the neck of her black trick horse as he tugged at the hay in his stall. "I fully expected the engagements to be broken. After all, the rodeo producers were paying for a complete equestrian act, not an average trick rider. Were they able to find someone to replace us?"
"They didn't say," her grandfather answered with a shrug. "But there are plenty of quality acts around. I'm sure they'll find someone."
"Two months without any income," she sighed again.
"I've canceled the engagements for the next three months," Everett King told her with a rueful smile. "Liberty is going to take some time healing, and even then, I'm not certain that he'll make it back to his old form. We might have to start looking for a replacement."
"A replacement?" Her brown eyes widened. "That means breaking in a new horse."
"That's why I figured we need at least three months. We've been talking about getting a spare horse anyway. This is the time to do it."
"But our finances? How bad is it, grandpa?"
"The vet's bill, the feed bill, boarding." It was his turn to sigh. "Let's just say that it's put a healthy dent in our emergency fund, and there's more to come."
"We'll have to go back to New Mexico, won't we?" She scuffed the toe of her boot in the hay scattered along the concrete walkway in front of the stables.
"It's more than seven hundred miles back home. Texas is a big state to cross. It would be foolish to try to trailer the horses that distance in their condition. Foolish and risky."
"But we can't afford to stay here either," Patty pointed out. "Not without any money coming into the kitty, only going out for stalls and feed."
"And to the vet," her grandfather added.
"We have to go back," she said, repeating her earlier statement only with more force and determination. "We can make the trip in stages, resting the horses for a couple of days in between."
"Do you think it's a good thing for us to go back?" he asked quietly.
"A good thing?" Patty frowned, glancing at him in confusion. "Of course! It's the only thing. What do you mean?"
"I was thinking about Lije. Back at your parents' ranch, you're bound to run into him and his wife."
For a freezing second Patty couldn't reply. It was impossible! She hadn't given Lije Masters a single thought. Always before the thought of her parents' home in New Mexico had been synonymous with the thought of Lije Masters, the man who had filled her heart and mind for as long as she could remember. Now, suddenly, they were separate. She couldn't believe it. How had it happened?
"Patty?" The weathered hand of her grandfather touched her arm, his voice echoing the concern in his eyes as he gazed, into her nearly colorless face. "You're white as a sheet. What's wrong?"
"I… I…" Patty stumbled, unable to put into words what she couldn't understand herself.
"Is it your shoulder again?"
"Yes." She seized on his suggestion almost with relief, using the excuse of the slight shoulder strain she had suffered as a result of the fall. "I've been favoring it, I guess," she murmured.
"You're as tense as a bucking horse waiting for the chute to open." He shook his head as his experienced fingers touched the tight muscles in her neck. "Turn around here."
Patty did as she was ordered, turning her back to her grandfather while he began gently manipulating and kneading the taut cords, forcing them to relax.
"We certainly can't stay here, grandpa," she said after a few minutes, her eyes closed as she enjoyed the soothing massage.
"I don't think we should go back to the ranch."
"There isn't any place else we can go. Besides, it doesn't matter."
"I still don't think it's a good thing to go stirring up the ashes of a dead fire."
The grim determination in his voice was vigorously apparent. A dead fire—the words lingered in Patty's mind, Perhaps that was it. Perhaps she had finally got over her heartbreak. She could even visualize Lije's face without any knife blades twisting inside.
"What's the alternative, grandpa?" she asked.
His hands left her neck and shoulders for a moment. She started to turn around and they were replaced. Their touch was more firm than before, a hard strength that demanded her muscles to surrender under its pressure. A sudden tingle raced down her spine and her lashes flew open with a start.
"I've already offered the alternative."
She hadn't really needed Morgan Kincaid's voice to realize why the hands had felt so different. She jerked away and pivoted at the same time. She readily picked up the mocking challenge that was in his gaze.
"What alternative?" she demanded.
"Morgan's ranch is less than two hundred miles from here." Her grandfather answered for him. "He's offered to let us keep the horses there as long as we take care of them, until they're ready to go back on tour."
"That's your parents' ranch, isn't it?" Her head was tilted back in defiance, not liking the feeling that she was being maneuvered again. "They might not be so willing to extend their hospitality so openly."
"It's a family holding," Morgan corrected with a slow drawl, amusement flickering in his blue eyes. "Plus, I've already discussed it with dad to be certain he had enough stable room available. The invitation has been seconded, so your objections on that score are meaningless."
"Neither grandpa nor I need your charity!"
"It isn't charity. It's only a neighborly Oklahoma offer." The broad shoulders moved in an expressive shrug as if he had plainly expected her to take this stand. "I wouldn't be much of a friend if I didn't offer your granddad a helping hand when he needed it. I already warned him that I thought you would refuse."
"You're right. I do!" Patty declared.
"Well, for my part, I accept," Everett King stated firmly.
"Grandpa!" Gasping his name, she turned on him with a look of surprised outrage.
"It's logical and practical and I've made up my mind." He held up his hand to halt the torrential outpouring of anger that was about to spring from his granddaughter's lips. "You can argue, shout and throw all the tantrums you want, but you aren't going to change my decision. We can't afford to stay here. It would be foolish and risky to go all that far back to New Mexico. So I'm taking the horses to Morgan's ranch and you can come or stay as you please."
"Grandpa!" Patty breathed, unable to believe that he had taken such an adamant stand against her. In the past, all major decisions had been the result of joint agreement. Even when she was a teenager he had treated her as an equal partner in a business venture. "You can't mean it?"
"The way I see it, Patty, we have no choice." There was a look of apology in his eyes, but the determination in the rest of his expression didn't waver. "Morgan's leaving in a couple of hours with the rodeo stock. The decision has to be made now so he can let them know at the ranch."
With a hopeless sense of frustration, Patty darted a glance at Morgan, silently accusing him of waiting until the last moment to extend his invitation.
"I would have suggested it earlier, but I wasn't aware there was any difficulty," he explained calmly with his usual perception of her thoughts. "When your grandfather indicated to me yesterday that you might be having some rough going, I had to wait until I'd checked with dad to be certain there was room available for you."
"We could have made it," Patty asserted.
"I've said it before," the ebony-dark head moved to the side in a despairing shake, "you are the hardest person in the world to help. You and that pride of yours keep looking for an ulterior motive where there is none. It's a straightforward offer to let you stay on the ranch until your horses recuperate and you can get back on tour."
He held her gaze for a long moment, transmitting some silent message that there was nothing for her to worry about. Yet Patty couldn't shake off the feeling that there was. She broke
free of the compelling blue eyes and glanced helplessly at her grandfather.
"Will you let them know I'll be there, Morgan?" Everett King requested, not reacting to the silent plea in her eyes. "The horses should be able to travel a week from Tuesday."
"I'll tell them to look for you, then," Morgan nodded, his gaze sliding again to her, "What about you, Patty? Should I tell them to expect you, too?"
Taking a deep breath, she tried to gain time, hoping that in the precious seconds, she would come up with another solution. Of course she didn't. There didn't seem to be any other.
"Yes," she agreed, exhaling tiredly and turning away.
"Goodbye, Patty," Morgan said to halt her departure. "I won't be seeing you for a couple of months or more." His mouth quirked into a mocking smile. "It will seem like a well-earned vacation for both of us."
Staring at his hard, strong face, Patty realized she had forgotten that. Morgan wouldn't be there to torment her with his mockery and laughter. As much as she disliked him, he had become something of a fixture in her life.
"Yes, it will seem like that, won't it?" she admitted aloud.
"Who knows?" The massive shoulders shrugged with his drawling voice. "I might even discover that I'll miss you, or at the very least, I'll miss our constant arguments."
Before she could retort that she wouldn't miss him at all, he was turning to her grandfather and bidding him goodbye and the opportunity to administer one last cutting barb had passed. There was a vague tightness in her throat as she watched him walk away. The peace and quiet would be wonderful, she told herself.
"I'm sorry, Patty," her grandfather spoke at last.
For an instant, she couldn't remember why he was apologizing. "It's all right, gramps," she answered quietly. "I only wish there had been some other way we could have got by without accepting Morgan's offer."
"You still can't abide him, can you?"
"I never will!" Patty declared vehemently.
"He's a good man," Everett King pointed out, then turned toward the stalls. "I'm going to check on Landmark."
