by Jodi Thomas
Alex looked at the blank wall that had once held a dozen family pictures. Almost all her memories of her father were the same. He’d come home after being gone on the rodeo circuit for months. There would be hugs and presents all around, and then that night she’d hear the arguments after her mother and father thought the kids were asleep.
Adam McAllen seemed to come home less and less. He must have lost at least one argument, though, because her mother never moved back to the ranch. At some point, Alex started calling her father Adam. When he did come back, he stayed on the ranch until the place got too dirty to use even for a night.
“Alex!” Noah yelled from the front entry. “You in here?”
Her kid brother’s voice had changed, lowered, and for a second she thought it was her big brother yelling. Alex swallowed hard and answered, “I’m in the den, Noah.”
He rushed in. “Thanks for coming. I want to show you the horses I’m getting today. The first of a future herd I’ll have running over this ranch. Michael says, as long as he and Maria are still living on the place, he’ll watch over them if something happens and I can’t get out. He and Maria planted a garden out back of the foreman’s house, so I guess that means they’re planning on staying.” Noah finally took a breath. “What you doing in the house?”
She ran her hand over the fireplace mantel. “I was just looking around.”
“I know you remember this place a lot better than I do.”
She smiled. “You were little when we left. Warren was fifteen. He threw a fit, cussing like I’d never seen, and I cried so hard I made myself sick. Mom said you joined in yelling with the pack. She claimed we all sounded like coyotes and she thought of just leaving us here.”
“I wish she had,” Noah said. “I love this place. I’ve already told Mom as soon as I turn eighteen, I’m moving out here.”
Alex felt sorry for him. If ever a kid belonged on the open range, it was Noah. Growing up in town wasn’t for boys like him. “What’d she say?”
“She said that it’s probably in my blood, and the next time around she’s going to marry a banker and raise kids who love the smell of vaults.”
Alex put her hand on his shoulder. “She shouldn’t be too worried. I’m only a half mile away at the cabin. If you get into trouble or start to starve, you can always make it to my place.”
“You’ve got food?”
“Cheerios,” she said with pride. “And, once in a while, milk.”
They walked out of the house and down to the barn, laughing about how bad a cook their mother was and how it was no wonder they were both so thin. Last Christmas she’d made cookies out of artificial sweeteners and wheat germ. Even the birds wouldn’t eat them.
The first thing Alex saw when they stepped into the barn was a beautiful Appaloosa mare and her colt. They were both chestnut brown with markings in white over their backs. The mare had a blaze of white down her face and the colt bore a star between his eyes.
“They’re wonderful!” Alex bent down to touch the foal, who looked to be about five weeks old. He resembled a giant stuffed toy with his woolly coat called milk hair and big brown eyes. He stood upright, with his legs straight and far apart like a tripod.
Noah bushed his hand along the mare’s neck. “It’s time I started raising horses, Alex. Mom says I have to go to college, but by the time I get out, I could have a real herd of these beauties. Michael says we can run horses on this place as well as cattle, so the only upkeep will be vet bills and grain in the winter. He said he’d keep an eye on them if Mom makes me go away to school.”
“And who will put in the hours of mucking out this barn?” she said, thinking they were lucky to have Michael and Maria on the place. Free housing in exchange for watching over the land seemed a fair exchange.
The mare nudged her shoulder, wanting attention. Alex laughed. “Where’d these beauties come from? They remind me of a horse Warren used to have.”
“They came from my place,” Hank Matheson said calmly as he stepped out of the tack room.
Alex did her best not to show how startled she was. It made sense that he was here. Someone had to have brought the animals in, and she hadn’t seen a trailer parked out front. All Hank would have had to do was ride the fence line of his place, cross over Lone Oak Road, and bring them in using the back trail to the barn. All he’d need was a lead over the mare. The baby would follow.
Noah caught the brush Hank tossed him.
“The mare should look like Warren’s horse,” Hank said without looking at Alex. “She’s the granddaughter of his mare.”
“Remember that filly Warren gave to Hank six years ago?” Noah brushed the horse. He patted her neck. “She sure did grow into a beauty, and this is her first foal.”
“I sold Noah the mare,” Hank said to Alex, “but I gave him the colt.”
“That was nice of you,” she managed.
“It’s time,” Hank answered. “He can handle them.” Hank winked at Noah. “Can’t you, Preacher?”
“You bet. This is the start I needed.”
She smiled at her little brother. “I hope so. Mostly all he knows about horses is how to fall off.”
After they played with the colt for a while, Alex decided it was time to head back to her cabin. She’d had a long day, a long week. Once home, she decided to take a quick shower and go into town for a meal and a drink. One drink, she told herself, maybe two and that was it. Her days of having Hank drag her out of the bar were over.
In the shower, she thought about Hank touching her leg in the restaurant. It hadn’t been an accidental touch or a casual brush. He’d moved his hand under the table and slid his fingers down the side of her leg. She should have said something right then. Or maybe stormed out, embarrassing him, letting him explain to his niece why she had left.
If she’d taken action when he’d touched her, he wouldn’t have kissed her at a crime scene and, more important, she wouldn’t have kissed him back.
What did he think he was doing, flirting? Proving a point of some kind? Being funny?
She stepped out of the shower, dried off, tied on a wrap, and began drying her hair. If Hank Matheson was flirting, he was doing a terrible job. If he thought he was proving a point, he hadn’t, and if he was being funny, near as she could tell neither of them were laughing.
Alex tried to keep the kiss they’d shared at dawn last Wednesday out of her mind. She couldn’t blame that on him. Well maybe the first one, but not the second. She crossed to her bedroom and slipped into a pair of jeans and a shirt. There was no need to dress up; she wasn’t planning to pick anyone up. She just wanted a meal and a few drinks tonight.
As she walked into the living room, the sun was low in the sky. The view out her huge windows was breathtaking, except for one thing: Hank sat on her front porch.
She stormed out. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
He’d tied his horse to the railing. He looked different than he did in town. The Stetson was still there, but his long legs were strapped into chaps. The spurs buckled across his boots reminded her that he was a working rancher, not one who dressed for show. The dried bloodstains on his plain chaps left no doubt about that. The cuffs of his shirt were rolled to his elbow, revealing strong, tanned forearms.
“I haven’t been in from work to clean up yet,” he said, slow and low as if he thought he might frighten her. “But I wanted to stop by here first on my way home.”
“You smell of sweat and horses.” She leaned against the porch railing, waiting to hear what he had to say.
He stared out at the sunset. “You hate ranching like your mother did?”
Fighting to control her anger, she said, “That’s none of your business, but no, I don’t hate ranching.”
She wanted to add that what she hated was that everyone in town knew about her parents’ troubles. It occurred to her that he might be worrying about her little brother. If the kid tried to work the ranch, he’d be stepping right in between her par
ents. “If Noah wants to make a go of the ranch, I’m all for it. I’ll even help when I can.”
She stood, arms folded, waiting for him to leave. He just stood there.
Finally, he turned and looked at her as if just noticing she was standing next to him. “You hungry, Alexandra?”
Alex hadn’t expected the question. She didn’t have time to lie. “I could eat.”
He stepped off the porch and put on his hat as he tugged the reins free of the railing. “How about a steak over in Bailee?” He swung onto the saddle. “I’ll clean up and be back in a half hour.”
He kicked his horse and was gone before Alex thought to close her mouth. After all these years of knowing Hank Matheson to be one of the most predictable people in town, he’d surprised her. First touching her leg, then kissing her, and now . . . now what?
She was way out of practice, but she could swear the man had just asked her for a date.
Alex put on a little makeup and combed her hair as she tried to think of how to tell him they couldn’t go out. He was over thirty. If he had decided it was high time he started dating, he’d have to look somewhere else. She knew she could never look at him without remembering he’d been her older brother’s best friend.
Maybe she shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her. She must have sent the wrong signal. Of course, there was also the possibility he was just trying to be nice.
Thirty minutes came and went. Alex reached for her keys. He wasn’t coming. Maybe this was all just a plan to keep her on the ranch. He probably thought she’d wait an hour or two, and then it would be too late to go into town.
Well, she’d fool him. Alex grabbed her coat and was out the door before she could change her mind.
Halfway down the steps, she saw his truck flying up the road. He cut the engine and was out of the cab before she could come up with a strategy.
“You were leaving?” he asked as he met her on the steps. Even in the shadows she could see the anger in his face. “You were walking out?”
“I thought you weren’t coming.” She took a step backward, ashamed of herself for not believing him. Hank might drive her crazy, but he wasn’t a man who lied. They’d both be better off if she’d just tell him that she doubted they could talk to one another for five minutes without getting into a fight. They were fooling themselves if they thought they could have a conversation over dinner.
“Alexandra.” He said her full name slowly. “I may be a lot of things in this life, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
She backed to her door and grabbed the handle, knowing she had to be honest. Whatever his reasons for asking her, this ploy wouldn’t work. “Dinner was a bad idea, Hank. A real bad idea.”
He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m not interested in food.”
With only a slight movement, he leaned down and kissed her. When she didn’t protest, he closed the space between them, pressing her against the door.
He felt so right next to her that for a few minutes she just let feelings wash over her. It had been so long since she’d felt . . . a lifetime since she’d thought of anything but family and work. She couldn’t count the Saturday nights in the bar when she’d gone in to drink and forget about all feelings.
Hank wasn’t flirting with her; he was showing her exactly what he wanted.
His hands slid up the sides of her body, boldly feeling her. His mouth moved from her mouth to her neck, tasting her flesh. He was so close she felt his chest press against her each time he breathed.
This was Hank. She closed her eyes. She’d known him all her life. He’d spent years teasing her when she’d tried to tag along with him and Warren. He’d bossed her around when she was in her teens and he was in college, always accusing her of going wild. He’d held her brother’s body in the middle of a road while she’d stood in the dark and stared. This was Hank.
If she kept her eyes closed, maybe she could forget everything but the feel of him molding her body, turning her on, warming her blood. God, it felt so good to just relax and let someone pull her to him. But this was Hank.
Slowly her body stiffened. “Stop,” she whispered. “Stop.”
He held her tighter for a moment as if fighting, and then he stepped away. “You want this, Alex. You want it as much as I do.”
She held her head up. “I want it, but not with you. Never with you.”
Bracing, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d hit her. But he didn’t. He simply swore under his breath and walked away. She stood, staring at the taillights until they vanished.
She’d hurt him worse than she’d ever hurt him in the hundred fights they’d had since Warren died. Alex knew it deep down, just as she knew him. He hadn’t been offering a one-night stand. He’d been offering himself.
She had to stop this now, no matter how much it hurt them both. She couldn’t let him make love to her and then find out sometime later that she had been the reason Warren died. And she couldn’t live with herself if she slept with Hank without being honest.
Alex crumbled on the porch and cried like she hadn’t cried in months. The kind of sobbing that made her guts hurt. The night three years ago came back to her as if it were yesterday.
She’d just gotten her master’s and come home to celebrate. Everyone knew she’d been waiting that night at Warren’s office. But no one knew that she’d talked Warren’s partner into skipping the patrol he should have been making with Warren so he could entertain her.
She’d been having sex in her brother’s office when he was shot on a country road without anyone to cover his back. The image of Hank fighting to save her brother as Warren’s blood ran across the road flooded her thoughts.
Finally, as she knew they would, the tears no longer came. Alex curled up in a ball, feeling cold and drained but refusing to go inside. If Warren’s partner had been with him, he might still be alive. She’d wanted to celebrate that night, a walking wild, half-drunk woman party looking for excitement. It had cost her brother’s life, and she couldn’t even remember the partner’s name. He’d blamed himself and quit the force. But Alex knew who was at fault. She was. She’d come on to the guy. She’d begged Warren to let him stay at the office when the late call came in. She was the reason her big brother died on that back road three years ago.
Two months after the funeral, she’d run for sheriff and been elected. She’d turned her life completely around, but it took her a year before she could look at Hank and not see the tears she’d seen that night running down his face.
He’d fought to save her brother, even refusing to stop when the doctor said it was hopeless.
And she’d stayed in the darkness and watched. Frozen.
Chapter 19
REAGAN WAS CONCENTRATING ON HER MATH WHEN Jeremiah passed through the kitchen. “It’s almost sunset,” he said and walked out the side door.
“He’s worse than a freaking grandfather clock,” she mumbled as she closed her book and followed him.
They had a routine. At sunset they always sat in the two west-facing chairs and watched. The only thing that had changed in the yard since she’d arrived six weeks ago was that now a pair of chairs faced all four directions. Jeremiah watched the sun rise and set every day. He watched the clouds. He watched the birds. He watched the dust blow. She had a feeling that if it ever rained, he’d sit outside and watch that, too.
Reagan decided nature was his TV.
She curled up in the blanket he’d left on what was now her chair and studied the sky. She’d never lived in a place where folks were so aware of the weather, but she liked this time of day. Watching the sunset was a routine, and she’d decided the third night she was in Harmony that she liked routine.
If Jeremiah had anything to say to her, he usually said it now. He wasn’t one to waste time talking at the table when he could be eating.
“You passing in school?” he asked without looking at her.
“Yep,” she answered. “
Signed your name on my report card last week. I got all Bs.”
“Good.” He didn’t sound like he cared one way or the other. “I was thinking maybe you should drive the truck in a few days a week and then you could get supplies on your way home, saving me a trip.”
“I don’t have a license.” She tried not to let her excitement show. She’d been driving the truck around the farm and once to town to get a saw fixed, but she never thought she’d be able to drive it to school.
“You got a birth certificate?”
“Yep.”
“That’s all you need. Turn it in, take the test. If you have to do anything else, find out. If you’re not smart enough to figure it out, you’re too dumb to drive.”
“You think I might be too dumb to drive?” She didn’t want to tell him that her name wasn’t Truman on the birth certificate.
“You’re smart enough. I think you’ll do just fine.” He stood. “I’m going out to the shed. I’ll be back in an hour or so for supper. Remember, you’re cooking tonight.”
“I remember.”
She watched him fold himself into his little cart and head down the path to what he called the shed. In truth, it was a large metal storage building back behind a forest of aspen. It looked like it would easily hold a dozen cars.
She’d looked inside a few times for a glimpse of his collection. Of all the things she’d thought he would have collected, tractors weren’t even on the list. These weren’t the huge tractors she saw moving up and down the back roads; these were old tractors. The kind that looked like they should be in a museum. She had no idea why he had them—not a spot on the farm appeared to have ever seen a plow—but almost every night he spent an hour or so working on the engines and polishing. He’d never invited her in for a close look, but he didn’t bother closing the door most nights, so she knew he wasn’t keeping them a secret.
