by Sylvie Kurtz
“What for?”
“To remind me he’s in charge.”
“I’ll bet that sat real good with you.”
“Is that Ellen?” Chance’s voice boomed from the background. “Let me talk to her.”
“Sorry I forgot to call,” Ellen said with exaggerated contrition when Chance came on. “Bancroft sent a present.”
“What?” he asked warily.
“Oats and hay.”
“He’s probably just trying to prove to the judge he’s a good guy.”
“You don’t think that’s odd?” She looked out the window and frowned at the blue-black darkness creeping over the ranch like a bruise. Luci, C.C. and Apollo were peacefully grazing. Everything appeared quiet and normal. But Bancroft’s delivery—with all the questions it rose—had crimped the edge of her feeling of security.
“I wouldn’t worry about it. His hands are tied and he knows it. He’s probably just trying to undo some of the damage he caused with his behavior yesterday.”
“I hope so. The horses should be improving, but their energy level is going down. Did your deputy find anything when he looked at the tracks outside the pasture?”
“He took a cast, but we don’t have cause to go to the Double B and try and match them. No one got hurt. There’s no way to prove the bags didn’t blow from one of your neighbors’ yards.” Chance paused for a beat. “I checked him out.”
She frowned. “Bancroft?”
“Your Kevin Ransom.”
“He’s not mine.” She could feel Kevin’s gaze right between her shoulder blades. She rolled them once, but the skewering feeling persisted. “Find anything?”
“No, and that bothers me.”
“What do you mean it bothers you? If there’s nothing, there’s nothing.” She picked up a sponge from the ceramic frog beside the sink, wet it and wiped the counter.
“He wasn’t born. He never went to school. His paper trail goes back only fourteen years.”
She scrubbed at a drop of jam glued to the counter from breakfast, unnaturally aware that the man she was discussing was sitting only a few feet away. “So?”
“The only place he exists is in the world he created,” Chance said.
Kevin came from a nomad family. Not everyone was born in a hospital. A lot of kids were homeschooled. There probably was a logical explanation for the gap in time in Kevin’s references.
“What about the rest?” She’d talked to the horse owners he’d helped. She’d heard the honest praise in their voices. She’d seen his gift with her own eyes. But she couldn’t tell Chance any of this—not with Kevin there to hear. She didn’t want him to know he was the topic of discussion, that he was being judged.
“What rest?”
She turned on the water and rinsed the sponge, hoping the noise would cover the sound of her voice. “What I gave you.”
“The references?”
“Yes.”
“He’s there, listening,” Chance guessed.
“Of course.”
“The references check out.”
“There you go.”
“All that means is that this ID is established.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
“He could still be dangerous.”
Dangerous? She slanted Kevin a sideways glance. The hard lines of his face did give him an air of danger. But the whole effect was negated by the soft smile and gentle scratch behind the ear he gave Blue, who was resting his head on his master’s knee. Animals had keener instincts than humans when it came to a good heart. “You’re wrong.”
“I want you to send him away. We’ll find somebody else to give you a hand.”
“No.” Granted, she didn’t know much about Kevin Ransom, and his presence had a way of putting her on edge. But he’d given her no cause to doubt him and plenty of reasons to be thankful he was around.
“Ellen, listen—”
“It’s a matter of trust.”
“It’s a matter of safety.”
Chance still saw her as the pathetic creature she’d been a year ago. But she was healing. Day by day, she was getting stronger. She had a second chance at her dream. She wanted to pass the good fortune on to someone else. “Chance…it’s my turn.”
“Turn for what?”
“You know.” She glanced at Kevin. The light exaggerated the harsh scars on his face—just as fatigue intensified her own body’s weakness.
“You don’t think you’ve fallen for him?”
“No, of course not!” She turned back to the counter and straightened the set of sunflower canisters. No one fell in love in a few days. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had Angus and Lucille. I had you and Taryn. Now it’s my turn.”
“It’s not the same. He’s not a horse in need of rescuing.”
“And what are you judging by?”
“God, Ellen, it’s not the scars. It’s the fact you’re out there alone with someone who changed his identity. Do you think people go around pretending they’re someone else because they’re upstanding citizens? People who change their identities usually have something to hide.”
And some people who went around as pillars of society sometimes kept their wife drugged and caged in a nursing home just so she couldn’t tell the world he was a cheat. She banged the potato pot into the sink. “What does Taryn think?”
Chance grumbled in frustration. “She’s as stubborn as you are. And if you get hurt, I’ll be the one who’ll get the blame for not warning you.”
“Consider me warned then.”
There was a long silence. “You be careful.”
“I will.” She twirled the phone cord around a finger. “Say good-night to Taryn for me.”
“You need anything, you call, you hear?”
“I hear.”
She sat at the table and served herself a chicken breast gone cold. The spoon of peas jiggled in her hand, but made it to her plate without bombarding the table with strays. She decided she didn’t need any potatoes.
“Your friend, the sheriff,” Kevin said, placing his fork and knife on the empty plate. “He’s very protective.”
She shrugged and scattered peas around her plate with the tip of her fork. “Isn’t that what friends are for?”
“I mean you no harm.”
The look in his eyes was sharp and true. The depth of his gaze was unclouded. The fierceness of his features said he meant every word.
Her gaze returned to her plate. She picked at the chicken, cut off a bite. It slid down her throat like arena dust. He wouldn’t consciously hurt her.
But he could.
The realization landed with a dull thud—right beside the slow churn of awareness in the pit of her stomach.
Already, he’d infiltrated her life in little ways. Already, she was depending on him. Already, he looked at home in her house.
That gave him an advantage she’d sworn no man would have over her.
Another weakness. Another vulnerability.
If she’d learned anything from Garth it was that, to fool a mark, you had to gain their confidence.
Where the horses were concerned, Kevin already had hers.
She was warned.
Chapter Six
The next three days passed in an easy rhythm that Ellen found both comforting and disturbing. Kevin seemed to read her as easily as he read the horses. He was there when she needed him. He made himself scarce when his presence started to make her tense. His head always seemed turned the other way when her hands cramped or her balance wobbled or her tired eyes forced her to blink like an old-fashioned doll being shaken.
Meals became lively discussions about the horses and the ranch. She ate with appetite for the first time in a year. He showed her a more efficient way to get water to the tank in the pasture. She showed him the massage technique she’d learned from the physical therapist for Apollo’s leg. Against all expectations, she found herself laughing easily, hating for the day to end, watching his silhou
ette as he walked the ranch every night before he turned in.
And every night, she cursed as she slipped into bed because she could feel herself sliding down a slope she had no business contemplating. Getting hung up on him would cause her nothing but grief.
Another week and he’d leave. That was the deal. He’d made it plain he wanted no ties. If she kept seeing Kyle in him just because she couldn’t seem to forget the only man she’d ever loved, his leaving would break her heart—just like Kyle’s had.
Kevin had to leave. That was best. She had to be sure of her strength, of her mind, of her own possibilities before she trusted herself to anyone.
And she had to let Kyle’s memory fade.
Every time she thought about her weaknesses, the feeling of impending doom came over her. Like a funereal shroud it weighed on her, heavy with the scent of death, absorbing her heat, stealing her breath. She woke up hyperventilating, her muscles paralyzed, her teeth clacking like a skeleton’s, afraid that in spite of the locked doors and windows, in spite of Kevin and Blue outside like sentries, in spite of the miles and jail bars between them, Garth would find her and croon to her in the darkness while he slipped another needle in the crook of her elbow. She would stare at the glowing numbers on the clock, wishing the night away, acutely aware of time ticking—wasted…forever gone.
But as darkness faded, replaced by the cheery pink of dawn, she would awake, eager to start the day, to care for the horses, to see Kevin—to swap horse-training tips, of course. She had so much to learn from him before he left.
Watching him work was a wonder. Today, he was teaching C.C., the Appaloosa, some manners. C.C. had the bad habit of bullying his way through gates, throwing his head and jerking her off balance so he could reach the green grass before she was ready to let him go. She didn’t have the strength or the desire to bully him back. Now, sitting on the top rail of the fence, she saw she didn’t have to. She was starting to understand the sheer power of Kevin’s simple training techniques.
“He’s learned that he’s bigger and stronger than his handlers,” Kevin said. “He knows he can keep his head down there as long as he wants because we won’t have the muscle to haul it back up.”
Especially with the shoulder you’re trying so hard to pretend doesn’t hurt. “That’s why he was left to starve,” Ellen said. “His owner couldn’t handle him anymore. So how are you going to make him change his mind?”
In that rusty voice of his, Kevin explained each of his actions, the logic behind them. He rewarded C.C. for every little yield toward the desired behavior. His body truly spoke to the horse in the animal’s own language.
She hung on to every word, every gesture, mesmerized. Not so much by the voice, she realized. That sound was like sand, Sahara-dry and abrasive. But by the tone, the unhurried rhythm. That slow pacing told the horse, told her, he had all the time in the world, and made them both believe it. They could count on his quiet confidence, on his consistency, on his willingness to wait for trust.
The thought stirred a longing that had her gripping the rail tight.
This time, C.C.’s attempt to lunge for the grass was halfhearted. Kevin lightly asked him to bring his head back up and C.C. obeyed.
“He’s got it!” Ellen clapped her hands once in delight.
Kevin’s smile was enough to warm her all the way down to her toes. “You can sweet-talk a horse into anything, but you can’t force him into anything. Not if you want it to stick.”
He dragged his knuckles across the horse’s muzzle. A series of snapshots of Kyle flashed across her mind, nearly knocking her off the fence. He was coming out of an arena, out of a ring, in from a trail. He’d jump off his horse and scrape his knuckles across his horse’s muzzle as if to say, “Love ya, horse, but I’m too macho to hug you in front of these people.” She shook her head to dislodge the memory. Kyle was dead. A lot of people liked to rub a horse’s soft muzzle.
“What next?” she croaked.
“I’ll put him out with the others and we’ll try again later to make sure he remembers.”
As he started leading the horse, C.C. zipped ahead as if he was in charge.
“Looks like you’ve got another lesson on your hands.”
“Yeah, someone really did a number on this horse.”
Before she could comment, Blue, who was lying beneath the fence at her side, scrambled to his feet. Looking toward the road, he rumbled a hoarse and squeaky attempt at a bark. A moment later, a cloud of dust sprang up, and from it, the unmistakable navy of a Double B vehicle materialized.
“What does he want now?” Ellen slid off the fence. Thumb hovering over the remote button that opened the gate, she debated making Bancroft walk. With a sigh, she decided against it. “Might as well just get this over with.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw C.C. circling around Kevin and figured she’d have to handle Bancroft alone. Kevin already had his hands full.
She squared her shoulders. She could handle it. The horses were more lethargic than when they’d arrived, but Bancroft had no way of proving the fault was in her care. Hands on hips, she waited for the intruders at the head of the driveway. Blue sat beside her. The ferocity of his gaze at the trio piling out of the truck almost made her laugh.
“If you’re gonna bite,” she whispered, “make it the guy with the hat.”
Ambling toward her, Bancroft tipped his hat. “Mornin’, Ms. Paxton.”
His wife wore red today. A second skin of a dress that showed just what her older husband saw in her. Her lipstick, her nails—fingers and toes—matched the dress. Dr. Warner dragged behind like a reluctant dog on a leash.
“Mr. Bancroft,” Ellen acknowledged.
His smile was meant to charm. All she saw was the cardboard stiffness of it.
“I’ve brought Dr. Warner to check on the horses.”
“They’re all doing fine. Dr. Parnell sees them every day.”
“That’s unfair to you,” he drawled. Her skin crawled. “After all, they are my horses. I should bear the cost of their vet checks.”
“I’ll send you the bill.”
His jowls reddened like steaks waiting for the grill. “I’m tryin’ to be civil here, Ms. Paxton.”
“What Bradley means,” Tessa Bancroft said, wrapping her arms around one of her husband’s and tipping her head against his shoulder, “is that the horses are used to a very strict diet and a very structured routine. At home we monitor their intake, pulse, temperature, weight, et cetera, on a daily basis. We’d like to continue with our protocol.”
Protocol? What a strange word to use. Ellen studied the china-perfect face for some sign of emotion and found none. Tessa’s concern wasn’t for the horses. “What does it matter, since you want them destroyed.”
“Well, little lady,” Bancroft boomed with a voice that was just a little too fast, a bit too loud, “what you said the other day made some sense. If they improve by week’s end, I might consider makin’ some money off them.”
Money. With people like him, it always came down to that. A life was as easily traded as a share on the stock market. He was leading her on. That much she’d figured out. He knew just which carrot to dangle to gain her cooperation. He knew she would do anything to preserve the horses’ lives. The question was, why did he feel the need to manipulate her? Was it the judge he was trying to impress?
See what I mean, Your Honor. I was tryin’ to be the good guy and she turned me down flat.
What did he really want with these horses? What was he trying to protect? Could it be simple as money? That she didn’t understand his true intention irked her.
What she had left from Garth’s settlement wasn’t much—enough to keep the ranch going if she invested wisely and watched her pennies.
“I’ll buy them from you.” She’d tighten the belt a notch. The horses were worth it.
“Now, listen.” Bancroft’s eyes hardened to black diamonds. “I’ve been more than patient here. I’ve tried to cooperate.
The truth is, you don’t have a choice.”
“They’re under my care by order of the court.”
He shook a sausagelike finger at her. “They’re my horses and I have the right to say how they’re maintained. Dr. Warner will examine them on a daily basis until they’re returned to our facilities.”
“I trust my own vet.” She crossed her arms under her chest. “They’re well cared for.”
“I still own their papers.”
“I’ll buy them from you.”
He made a show of studying her ranch, sneered. “You can’t afford my price.”
“I’ll give you what you’d get at auction. It’s more than you would’ve gotten by putting them down.”
He breached the space between them, invading her zone of comfort. On his breath, she smelled tobacco. Mixed with the heavy sandalwood of his cologne, the effect was a noxious cloud. She cringed inwardly, but held her ground.
“The truth,” Bancroft said, “is that, given the circumstances, I’d rather dispose of them than sell them to you. You’ve given me more trouble than I usually allow.”
The sheer hatred behind the voice made her jump inside her own skin and take a step back. Blue crouched and gave a warning rattle low in his throat.
Then she sensed Kevin’s presence behind her, solid and silent. He would fight a black-hatted villain for her, face a gang of gunslinging desperadoes for her, tackle Bancroft one-handed for her. All she had to do was say the word and he would step between her and danger.
The reflection of that impression showed mirror clear in Bancroft’s eyes, in his retreat. The knowledge gave her strength she didn’t know she had, and in that strength, she found courage.
For the horses, she yielded.
She would watch Dr. Warner’s every move, memorize, analyze. She wouldn’t give him the chance to slip them a needle or a poisoned treat.
In her sanctuary, the horses would stay safe.
