The Horseman's Heritage

by Jacki Bentley

  "Mr. Caldwell?” she asked. “Reese Caldwell?” Her voice was much less wobbly than she'd expected, the tremor hardly noticeable at all. Buoyed by that, she'd smiled. And almost ran back to her plastic chair when he'd nodded and said, he was, indeed, Reese Caldwell.

  "No ... I mean ... you are?"

  "That's me. You my ride, darlin'?"

  She'd nodded. I bet you call all the women darling. A touch of unreasonable jealousy slashed through her. She didn't want him to speak to another woman, ever again.

  "Glad to meet you, ma'am."

  He'd offered his big hand and smiled, too, all snowy white teeth and handsome jaw line.

  She put her hand in his. His strength and warmth enveloped her. She began the most exciting and terrifying time of her life.

  Now, she shook off the memories and brought herself back to the present. She yawned. Her head fell back to rest on the couch cushion. Just a few minutes of rest, then she would get back to the paperwork.

  The pull of sleep and dreams of her brief time as Reese Caldwell's woman took her.

  The heavy folder fell from her relaxed fingers to the floor.

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  Chapter Three

  Josie was right. He'd been an arrogant fool to expect Ashley to come back to him on her own. Now he had reason to think she might call at least. But in the days since the initial contact from the lawyer there'd been silence.

  Dropping his head into his hands, he closed his eyes a moment. Ashley's sweet face appeared at once in his mind. Her green eyes flashed. So beautiful.

  Even before they parted, he'd dreaded losing Ashley. Having her and loving her, then losing her in the way he'd lost Natalie and Gabe. He couldn't bear it. The problem was he'd met her too soon after losing his family, if he'd had longer to grieve ... maybe things would have been different.

  In time, he'd lied to himself, believing he didn't love Ashley anymore.

  Maybe he had brought all this on himself, as Josie said. Now that was a bizarre, damn thought. He leaned back, picked up a pen and tapped it on the desk.

  Ashley's place was here with him, not at the end of a thousand miles of telephone cable. Stubbornly telling himself that many times in the last four years had proven cold, cold company in his bed at night.

  He heard his brother come in the back of the house and kick off his boots in the mud room.

  "Reese, you here?” Clay yelled.

  "In the study."

  If he had another chance with Ashley, he'd accept her sweetness with hope and confidence. If she'd come back to him. Hell, no. He should take matters in his own hands and go to her.

  She'd given him her phone number before they parted. He'd kept the piece of paper tucked away in his wallet ever since. It had survived three different wallets in that length of time. He shifted in his seat and took it out now to read—to reassure himself he still had it—and rubbed his fingers over the folds and crinkles in a caressing way as if it were the woman herself.

  Past time he took matters into his own hands. He could become and old man waiting for her to return to him. Reese felt he was waking from a bad dream.

  Before he could regain his common sense, and masculine pride, he reached for the telephone. But stopped his hand's movement in mid-air.

  A lot could happen in so much time. She could be married. Oh, God, it would hurt if Ashley had wed some decent guy. Or worse, some no-good bastard. That's what he'd get for sitting here staring out the damn window. And for burying himself in endless ranch chores.

  "Did you eat?” Clay stood in the doorway with a huge, homemade sub sandwich and iced tea in his hands. His brother was a good-looking guy, taller than his own six foot by a couple inches. Clay's hair was a few shades lighter, more dark brown. Their voices a pitch or two different, but the eyes were the same strange wolf-gray shade. Both of them worked out to keep fit. Ranch work helped with that, of course.

  "Nah, not hungry, thanks,” Reese answered.

  "What're you working on?"

  "Nothing. Just thinking."

  Clay looked around the room. “I miss that old Peacewatcher piece of furniture. The bookcase that matches your desk, remember? We used to call it the Noah's Arc bookshelf when we were little because of the animal pairs carved in the front. Has the Peacewatcher book hidden in it."

  "Yeah. You just now noticing it's gone?"

  Clay shrugged. “Just getting around to asking about it, I reckon. What happened to that thing?"

  Reese had always been fascinated by the wolf pair himself, his eyes always drawn to them. Half hidden in the trees, the gray wolves lurked behind the other animal pairs that stood in the foreground. The smaller, female wolf had a penetrating look in her eyes, but she was alone, deeper in the woods. He couldn't see her well.

  His brother had preferred the horse pair. A thick-necked, baroque stallion stood watchfully over a sleeping mare. The other pairs gathered in a half circle around the horse pair at the center.

  Above the animals the word, Peacewatchers was carved in bold script. In smaller print under the horses, the word Horsemaster.

  "The interior decorator's crew put it in storage upstairs."

  "The gal you brought here to fix the place up for your Ashley four years ago?"

  "Yes, the same one that fell head over heals for you and chased you around everywhere for a while."

  Clay shivered in revulsion. “No wonder she moved the bookcase. It was too nice for her dark soul to stand to look at it. The Wicked One was afraid all that goodness would stick to her."

  Reese looked at his brother and grinned. “Why do you say it's good?"

  "Oh, I don't know. Just the feeling the bookcase gives off. A pleasant aura or something. I just know things.” The last sentence was a direct Josie quote.

  Reese gave his brother a look.

  Clay shrugged. “Hey, what can I say? All of Josie's voodoo hoodoo is bound to sink in to me some. Why haven't we moved the bookcase back long before now anyway? The house isn't the same without it out where we can see it. It's time it came back."

  When Reese made no comment, his brother continued, “You feel guilty you haven't read the Peacewatcher Book?"

  Reese nodded. “Yeah, some. I suppose I should read it. You?"

  "Yeah, I should, too. Josie says it's our duty.” His brother's eyes looked far away. “I tried to read it once when I was fourteen. Damn spooky stuff in there. Not a bit normal. When you first look at the words, they look like gibberish, like hieroglyphics but when you stare a while, you can read it."

  "Now, hell?"

  "It's the honest to God truth. Talk of a race of alien guardian people saving mankind from each other. Our duty it says. Hell, I like normal.” Clay smiled crookedly.

  "Normal is easier. Good idea to bring the bookcase back down here though,” Reese agreed. “It's our heritage, even if not the average family lore."

  "Right, most families have a few Native American genes or a horse thief or something."

  "I'm sure Josie'll be pleased to see it here in the study again."

  Clay ate a bite and chewed a while. “Do we have numbers on next months’ budget yet?"

  "Not yet."

  "Can you feed the horses tonight?"

  His brother looked shocked. “Uhh ... no, it's your turn. I feed mornings. You feed nights. That's the way it's always been. The order of things. Since Granddad was alive. Rare for you to leave here after horse show season anyway."

  "I know, but I'm going after Ashley."

  "Well damn, what prompted this?"

  "Got a letter from a Houston lawyer. She wants a meeting. I'm going to give it to her."

  "Wonder why? She planning to sue you for being obtuse enough to let her get away in the first place?” Clay laughed at his little joke.

  Reese glared at him until he stopped. “I have no flocking idea. Maybe she needs help, or money?"

  "Huh. Could be, I guess. Didn't leave her pregnant, did you?"

  Reese dropped the pe
n he'd been holding. “Hell, no. I used condoms. Why would you say that?"

  Clay shrugged. “Flashed in my mind."

  "That's ridiculous. Ashley would've told me."

  Clay nodded. “Sure. Suppose she would've at that."

  When his brother looked at him oddly, Reese asked, “What?"

  "Nothing, not a damn thing, brother. Just maybe she did tell you in those letters you so arrogantly declined to read. Did you tell her about the Peacewatcher gifts for psychic premonition?"

  "No. But she met Josie a few times. Ashley seemed to understand Josie, to take it all in stride. Do you think that insane stuff scared her off?"

  Clay shrugged again. “Possible."

  His brother looked as if something like that had happened to him in his dealings with a woman.

  "I need another sandwich before I drive you to the airport. Sure you don't want one? Should eat."

  "No. No, thanks. Not hungry."

  As Clay went off down the hallway, Reese drummed his fingers on the desk. Then closed them around the telephone receiver. He punched out Ashley's number, frowning. The dainty little squares were too close for his broad fingers.

  He'd hired the decorator Clay called, The Wicked One, to redo the house four years ago, when he'd been so sure Ashley would come to live here. He'd planned it as a surprise for her—a way to welcome her into the dark old mansion. In his misguided hope, he'd wanted things more girlified for her. He'd thought of some pillows and a few pretty what-nots. But, hell, not as girlie as this tiny phone. The designer said it brought the room ‘up-scale'. He grimaced. He should have gotten a new phone before now. He'd had to guard his beloved old desk with his physical presence to keep the designer woman's staff from consigning it upstairs with the Peacewatcher cabinet.

  Hell, maybe it'd been bad luck to let the old Peacewatcher book and the bookcase holding it be moved upstairs. Bad Mo Jo or something. Perhaps trying to fix up the house for Ashley had been a disaster in more ways than the decorating. Should've sought her opinion on the changes, or better, let her make them.

  A phone voice said, “The number has been changed. The new number is...."

  Reese felt a split second of pure panic dance up his spine.

  He sat straighter in his chair.

  Ashley had moved.

  Had she moved in with another man? No, no. He would have known. He would have felt it.

  Hah! Maybe he wouldn't have. His gift for foretelling was rudimentary at best, not as strong as Josie's ability. Even Josie's seeing was not always totally reliable.

  Would Ashley have let him know if she loved another man?

  Why should she?

  Maybe she had. In those damn letters he'd refused to open or the e-mails sitting unopened in his inbox, their little yellow envelopes mocking him until they'd moved far out of sight.

  He closed his eyes. He'd always pictured Ashley buried in her science books, as he was in ranch work.

  Never in another man's bed. Never. Not until now.

  Hell, he'd taken her for granted.

  Surely Ashley would not let him wait this way, like a mindless shell when she'd moved on long since. She was a woman he could trust that far.

  He gave a self-effacing laugh. She owed him no such loyalty. She couldn't know he waited for her in his reclusive cave.

  Replacing the receiver, he dropped his elbows to the desk and ran the fingers of both hands through his hair.

  He'd never forget the first time he saw Ashley.

  She'd sat in one of those hard, plastic airport chairs, dressed in lumpy, unbecoming clothes as if she wanted no one to see her, as if the clothing was her camouflage.

  She'd made him think of a fawn. A fawn out of place. In danger. Under threat from the wild beasts around her, trying to avoid detection. Fanciful, but his protective instincts had surfaced big time.

  She'd appeared more than half exotic alien—such a lovely, fragile looking creature with the most beautiful big green eyes he'd ever seen. He smiled, remembering her glasses. She'd peered at him through the ugliest, clunky eyewear he'd ever seen.

  The night before they met, he'd had one of his rare Peacewatcher dreams. At the sight of the woman, the true dream had coalesced in his mind. Several images of the future with the woman had warned him he was destined to be putty in her hands if she—if she what? He hadn't been sure what the future held for him and the woman, but the dream had scared the living hell out of him and enthralled him all at the same time.

  His gut instincts had told him this lovely creature in the airport was the woman in the dream. His stomach had clinched with fear at the thought of opening himself to the possibilities.

  God, but he'd wanted her, becoming painfully, achingly aroused right there in the very public airport lounge. His blood heated as she'd watched every move he made, indicating interest on her part, too.

  Most women gave him curious glances. He didn't seek their attention and wasn't the kind of man who played with women. Without thought, he'd closed the distance to this one in a few long strides.

  Remembering that uncharacteristic action, he realized he couldn't have stopped himself from going to her if he'd wanted to.

  His body had hardened tighter as desire for her surged through him.

  Trying to appear cool and casual, he'd struggled to think of some explanation for approaching the pretty stranger. At the same moment, she'd seemed to gather her courage and composure, stood up, and stepped toward him.

  He'd held his breath as she approached, certain if he breathed he'd startle her away. That she left the relative security of the chair to meet him partway seemed important. His fawn possessed a surprising streak of daring.

  God forbid she'd go right past him to meet some other traveler behind him.

  Even now, in the present, his heart throbbed harder at the thought.

  He'd felt self-conscious in his duster. Normally he didn't give a damn about clothes. He'd worn it because it was often cold in Columbus in October. He would fit right in at the Congress, but not at the airport with non-horse people everywhere.

  Up close, he found her eyes an even prettier shade of shiny green than he first thought. Reminded him of the ocean at Galveston Bay with a tropical storm blowing in. Shades of green with a few touches of blue and gray swirling through, mixing to a deep, dark green. Beautiful, hypnotizing.

  He stared at the stray wisps of shining mahogany hair rebelling against her funny, tight-knot of a hairstyle. Then he'd tried hard not to stare at the soft curves of her feminine form, her breasts and sexy, heart-shaped hips, as she'd walked toward him.

  Beautiful.

  The lady had a natural grace of movement that spoke of innocent, untapped feminine power.

  He'd recognized a sucker-punch to the stomach when he'd felt one, almost doubling over from her impact on him.

  If he'd ever thought of the perfect woman for him, it hadn't been Ashley Wilson, who fit the lady scientist stereotype to a T. More the image of his wife, Natalie came to his mind before that day. Nat had cared about nice clothes, knew a good hairstyle from a mediocre one.

  However, from then on, his ideal woman had been Ash, with her shapely curves, green eyes and kind expression. Even now, five long and painful years after they met and a little over four years after they parted ways, only Ashley moved him that way. No other woman. Why, he didn't know for sure. Sweetness and kindness radiated from her, but she wasn't the most beautiful woman by the traditional, symmetrical features measure. Striking for sure—but not perfect.

  In the present, he groaned. Well, his sweet little fawn had proved to be as stubborn as any rank steer he'd ever dealt with, determined to fight his plans for the two of them.

  He rubbed the bridge of his nose to ease the ache behind his eyes. The explosive fire of their passion had been a sweet surprise. He knew she'd enjoyed being in his bed.

  But Ashley had chosen her career over him. He had no business blaming her for that. A man would do it in a minute.

  Shor
t of becoming a pathetic stalker, sitting outside her door, what could he have done but leave her alone? And hope she'd come back to him when she was ready.

  Hell, it'd seemed like a good plan four years ago. Now. Not so much.

  He found himself very tired of life without Ashley, tired of pretending not having her in his bed at night didn't cause him to ache and toss and turn, tired of pretending he didn't love her anymore.

  Another realization hit him between the eyes: Four years ago, he'd felt guilty he'd loved Ashley more than Nat, that he'd enjoyed making love to her far more.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Four

  Through the fog of sleep, Ashley heard the phone ring.

  "Can you get that, Ashley?” Emma called from the kitchen. “I would, but my hands are messy."

  Ashley blinked her eyes. The insistent ringing drove away the mists of the much needed catch up sleep. Ashley moaned. She needed to get to the phone. Moving a sleeping child was tough, especially when you were under said child trying to lift upward.

  The ringing stopped briefly then continued again as if the caller had hung up and tried the number again to see if it was correct. Finally, she managed to ease her limber little girl down to the blue floral sofa without waking her from her nap. What a minor miracle that was.

  She grabbed the phone. “'Lo,” she murmured, leaning both elbows on the telephone table, still sleepy.

  "Ash?"

  Oh, dear God! It was as if her memories had conjured him up. Reese. It was Reese.

  Ashley dropped down hard to the stiff-backed chair by the phone.

  It couldn't be. But it was.

  Tears burned her eyes and she squeezed her lids, hard, refusing to let them fall.

  This was the first time he'd called in four long years.

  Contact from the lawyer had prompted this.

  "Ash?” he asked again.

  "Reese?” she whispered the question.

  "Yeah. It's me, baby."

  Oh, my goodness. Oh, no. She was so not ready for this yet.

  "You okay, Ash? You sound...."

  "Yes, uh, I'm fine, fine,” she interrupted. “Ah ... tired ... and you?” Late, she thought to add the last. Crap! Like this was a normal conversation and not the first time she'd heard from the man in eons. If she'd only had a little REM sleep this week, she could handle this.