The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  “You ought to take a minute to get your breath back. If you hadn’t had good reflexes, I’d be digging you out of the drifts now.”

  “I’m fine, really.” He had gorgeous eyes, she mused. Cold, but beautiful. They shouldn’t have made her insides curl up in defense. “I’m on my way to Three Rocks, as it happens,” she continued, determined to work on those social skills. “I’m told Mr. McKinnon’s under the weather.”

  “Flu. Put him down hard the last couple days, but he’s feeling some better. You’ve had your own problems over to Mercy.”

  “Yes.” She drew back instinctively. “You’d better get back in your rig. It’s too cold to be standing out there.”

  “Wind’s got a bite, all right. Like a healthy woman.” He winked, stepped back. “I’ll follow you in. You be sure to tell old Jim I’m up for a game anytime.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks for stopping.”

  “My pleasure.” Chuckling to himself, he tipped his hat. “Ma’am.”

  He chuckled out loud when he climbed back into his rig. So that was Lily’s half-breed half sister. He’d bet she would give a man a hard ride. He might have to find out. He hummed all the way into Three Rocks, and when Willa took the turn toward the main house, tooted his horn cheerfully and waved her on.

  Shelly opened the door, with the baby on her shoulder. “Will, what a surprise. Pie!” Her eyes went huge and just a little greedy. “Come in, grab a fork.”

  “It’s for your father-in-law.” Willa held it out of reach. “How’s he feeling?”

  “Better. Driving Sarah crazy. That’s why I’m here instead of home. Trying to give her a hand. Take off your coat, come on back to the kitchen.” She patted the gurgling baby on the back. “Truth is, Will, I’m spooked staying home alone. I know it’s stupid, but I keep thinking someone’s watching me. Watching the house, looking through the windows. I’ve had Zack up three times this week to check locks. We never locked up before.”

  “I know. It’s the same at Mercy.”

  “You haven’t heard any more from the police.”

  “No, nothing helpful.”

  “We won’t talk about it now.” Shelly lowered her voice as they approached the kitchen. “No use getting Sarah upset. Look who I found,” she announced as she swung through the door.

  “Willa.” Sarah put down the potatoes she was peeling for stew, wiped her hands. “How wonderful to see you. Sit down. There’s coffee on.”

  “Pie.” Though she was never quite sure how to respond to the spontaneous affection, Willa smiled when Sarah kissed her cheek. “For the invalid. Bess’s sweet potato.”

  “Maybe that’ll keep him busy and out of my hair. You tell Bess how much I appreciate it. You sit down now, have some cake with that coffee and talk to us. Shelly and I have about talked each other out. I swear winter gets longer and meaner every year.”

  “Beau Radley’s selling out and moving to Arizona.”

  “No.” Sarah pounced on the nibble of gossip like a starving mouse on cheese. “I hadn’t heard that.”

  “Sold to developers. They’re going to put in a resort. Dude ranch. Buffalo.”

  “Oh, my.” Sarah whistled through her teeth as she poured coffee into her company cups. “Won’t Stu have six fits when he hears.”

  “Hears what?” Silver hair flowing, bathrobe comfortably ratty, Stu strolled in. “We got company and nobody calls me?” He winked at Willa, gave her a quick pat on the head. “And pie? We got pie and you leave me up there moldering in bed?”

  “You won’t stay in it long enough to molder. Well, sit then. We’ll have pie instead of cake with coffee.”

  He pulled up a chair, eyed his daughter-in-law. “Going to let me hold my baby yet?”

  “Nope.” Shelly swiveled Abby around. “Not until you’re germ-free. Look but don’t touch.”

  “I’m being run into the ground by women,” he told Willa. “Sneeze a couple of times and you find yourself strapped in bed having pills forced down your throat.”

  “He was running a fever. One-oh-one.” Clucking, Sarah slid pie under his nose. “Eat that and stop complaining. Babies are less trouble when they’re ailing than any grown man I know. I can’t count the number of times I’ve been up and down those stairs in the past three days.”

  Even as she said it, she was cupping his chin, studying his face. “Color’s better,” she murmured, letting her hand linger. “You can have your pie and a visit, but then you go back and take a nap.”

  “See?” Stu gestured with his fork. “She can’t wait until I’m feeling off to start bossing me around.” He brightened considerably when the door opened and Zack came in. “Now we’ll even the odds a bit. Come on in, boy, but don’t think you’re getting any of my pie.”

  “What kind? Hey, Will.” Zack McKinnon was a slimly built man who stopped just shy of lanky. He’d inherited his mother’s wavy hair and his father’s squared-off jaw. His eyes were green, like Ben’s, but dreamier. He was a man who liked to spend his days in the clouds. The minute he was out of coat and hat, he kissed his wife and picked up his daughter.

  “Did you wipe your feet?” his mother demanded.

  “Yes’m. Is that sweet potato?”

  “It’s mine,” Stu said darkly, then nudged the pie closer possessively as the door opened again.

  “The piebald mare’s looking ready to—” Ben spotted Willa and his smile came slow. “Hey, Will.”

  “She brought pie,” Zack said, eyeing it avariciously. “Dad won’t share.”

  “What kind?” Ben dropped into a chair beside Willa and began to play with her hair.

  “Your father’s kind,” she said, and brushed his hand away.

  “Thata girl.” Stu scooped up another forkful, then looked crushed when his wife sliced two more pieces. “I thought I was sick.”

  “You’ll be sick if you eat all this yourself. Give Shelly the baby, Zack, and pour the coffee. Ben, stop fussing with Will and let the girl eat.”

  “Nag, nag, nag,” Stu muttered, then beamed when Willa winked and slid her piece of pie from her plate to his.

  “Stuart McKinnon, shame on you.” Sarah put her hands on her hips as her husband dug in to the second piece.

  “She gave it to me, didn’t she? How are those pretty sisters of yours, Will?”

  “They’re fine. Ah . . .” Neither Lily nor Adam had asked that it be kept secret. In any case, Willa imagined tongues were already starting to wag. “Adam and Lily are engaged. They’re going to be married in June.”

  “A wedding.” Shelly bounced as happily as the baby. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”

  “Adam’s getting married.” Sarah let out a sigh as her eyes went sentimentally moist. “Why, I can remember when he and Ben used to tramp off to the stream with fishing poles.” She sniffed, dabbed her eyes. “We’ll help you with the shower, Willa.”

  “Shower?”

  “The bridal shower,” Shelly said, gearing up. “I can’t wait. They’ll live in that adorable little house of his, won’t they? I wonder what kind of dress she’s looking for. I’ll have to tell her about this wonderful shop in Billings where I found mine. And they have gorgeous bridesmaids’ dresses too. I hope she wants vivid colors for you.”

  Willa set her cup down before she choked. “For me?”

  “I’m sure you and Tess will be her attendants. Both of you want strong colors. Rich blue, dark pink.”

  “Pink?”

  At the desperate look in her eyes, Ben howled. “You’re scaring her bloodless, Shelly. Don’t worry, Will. I’ll look after you. I’m going to be best man.” He toasted her with his coffee. “I just talked to Adam this morning. You beat me to the announcement.”

  With his plate scraped clean, Zack came up for air. “Better let me talk to him. I’ve still got the scars from our wedding.” As Shelly’s eyes narrowed, he grinned. “Remember those monkey suits we had to wear, Ben? Thought I’d strangle before I could say ‘I do.’ ” He bent to his coffee when Shelly smacke
d the back of his head. “Of course, I had a lump in my throat when I looked down the aisle and saw this vision coming toward me. The most beautiful sight any man sees in his life.”

  “Good save, son,” Stu commented. “I don’t mind weddings myself, though your mom and I did it the easy way and eloped.”

  “That was only because my father wanted to shoot you. You tell Lily to let us know if there’s anything we can do to help, Will. Just thinking about a wedding makes spring seem closer.”

  “I will. I know she’ll appreciate it. I have to get back.”

  “Oh, don’t go yet.” Shelly reached out to grab her hand. “You’ve hardly been here at all. I can have Zack go down to the house and get my stack of Bride’s magazines and the photo album. It might give Lily some ideas.”

  “I’m sure she’d like to come over herself and huddle with you.” Now the idea of a wedding was making her shoulder blades itch. “I’d stay if I could, but the light’s already going.”

  “She’s right,” Sarah murmured, shooting an uneasy glance out the window. “It’s no time for a woman to be out on the road alone at night. Ben—”

  “I’ll ride over with her.” Ignoring Willa’s protests, he rose and fetched his hat and coat. “One of your men can drive me back, or I’ll borrow a rig.”

  “I’d rest easier,” Sarah put in before Willa could refuse again. “It’s a shameful thing what’s happened here. We’d all rest easier knowing Ben’s with you.”

  “All right, then.”

  Once the good-byes were said, with the rest of the McKinnons walking them to the door, Will climbed behind the wheel of the rig. “You’re a lucky man, McKinnon.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shook her head and stayed silent until they’d left the ranch house behind. “You can’t know, you can’t possibly understand how lucky you are because it just is for you. It’s just the way it is and always has been.”

  Baffled, he shifted in his seat to study her profile. “What are you talking about?”

  “Family. Your family. I sat there in that kitchen. I’ve sat there before, but I don’t know if it all sank in. It did today. The ease and affection, the history, the bond. You wouldn’t know what it’s like not to have any of that. It’s just yours.”

  It was true enough, and he didn’t know if he’d ever thought it through. “You’ve got sisters now, Willa. There’s a bond there, and it’s easy to see.”

  “Maybe there’s the beginnings of something, but there’s no history. No memories. I’ve seen you start a story and Zack finish it. I’ve heard your mother laugh over something stupid the two of you did as boys. I never heard my mother laugh. I’m not being maudlin,” she said quickly. “It just hit me, sitting there today, watching you and your family. That’s the way it’s supposed to be, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, I’d say it is.”

  “He stole that from us. I’m just beginning to realize how much he stole from all three of us. Not just me. I’m going to make a detour.”

  When they came to the boundary of Mercy land, she shifted into four-wheel drive and swung onto a winter-rutted access road. He didn’t ask where she was heading. He’d already figured it out.

  Snow was mounded over the graves, burying the headstones, smothering the wild grass and tender flowers. She thought it looked like a postcard, so perfect, so undisturbed, with only Jack Mercy’s stone, higher, brighter than all the rest, thrusting up out of the snow toward the darkening sky.

  “Do you want me to go with you?”

  “No, I’d rather you didn’t. If you could just wait here. I won’t be long.”

  “Take your time,” he murmured as she climbed out.

  She sank knee-deep in snow, trudged her way through it. It was cold, bitterly, with the wind slapping the air, sending snow swirling from its bed. She saw deer, a small herd of doe on the rise of a hill, like sentinels for the dead.

  There was no sound but the wind, and the wind was like the first stars groaning as she made her way to her father’s grave.

  The headstone was carved as he’d ordered, carved as he’d lived his life. Without a thought to anyone but himself. What did it matter? she wondered, for he was as dead as her mother, who was said to have lived kind, and gentle.

  She had come from that, Willa thought, from the kind and the cruel. What it made her she couldn’t say. Selfish on some levels. Generous on others, she hoped. Proud and filled with self-doubt. Impatient, but not without compassion.

  Neither kind, she decided, nor cruel, and that wasn’t so bad, all in all.

  What she did understand, standing there in the rough wind, in the rougher silence, was that she had loved them both. The mother she had never known, and the father she had never touched.

  “I wanted you to be proud of me,” she said aloud. “Even if you couldn’t love me. To be . . . satisfied with me. But it never happened. Ham was right today. You slapped me all my life. Not just the physical slaps—there wasn’t much punch behind those because you didn’t really give a damn. Emotionally. You hit me emotionally more times than I can count. And I just came back, my head lowered like a kicked dog, so you could do it again. I guess I’m here to tell you I’m done with that. Or I’m going to try to be.”

  She was going to try, very hard.

  “You thought you’d pit the three of us against each other. I see that now. Doesn’t look like we’re going to oblige you. We’re keeping the ranch, you selfish son of a bitch. And I think we may just keep each other too. We’re going to make it work. To spite you. We may not be much of a family now, but we’re not done yet.”

  She walked away the way she’d come.

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and was grateful for the lack of tears. Still, he hadn’t expected the smile, even the grim one that firmed her lips as she got back into the rig.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.” She drew a deep breath, pleased that it didn’t hitch. “I’m just fine. Beau Radley’s selling off,” she said as she maneuvered the rig around. “I’m buying some of his equipment, a couple hundred head from the feedlot, and taking on two of his men.”

  The lack of segue left him a little muddled, but he nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  “I didn’t tell you that for your approval, but so you can note it in your supervisory capacity.” She swung onto another access road to shortcut it to the ranch. Quick gusts of wind that would drag the temperature down to unbearable rattled gleefully at the windows.

  “I’ll have the monthly report up to date by tomorrow so you can go over it.”

  He scratched his ear, wary of the trap. “That’s fine.”

  “That’s business.” Her smile relaxed a bit as she saw the lights of the ranch house peek through the distance. “On a personal level, why haven’t you ever asked me out for a sit-down dinner or a picture show instead of just trying to get my pants down?”

  His mouth fell open so far he nearly had to use his hand to shove his jaw up again. “Excuse me?”

  “You come sniffing around, get your hands on me when I let you, ask me to bed often enough, but you never once asked me out on a date.”

  “You want me to take you to dinner?” He’d never thought of it. He would have with another woman, but this was Willa. “To a movie?”

  “Are you ashamed to be seen in public with me?” She stopped the rig again, left the engine running as she swiveled in the seat to face him. His face was in shadows now, but it was still light enough for her to read the stunned look in his eyes. “I’m all right to go rolling around in the horse barn with, but not good enough for you to put on a clean shirt and invest fifty bucks in a meal?”

  “Where’d you get a damn fool idea like that? In the first place, I haven’t rolled around in the horse barn with you because you’re not ready, and in the second place, I never figured you were interested in sitting down in a restaurant and eating with me. Like a date,” he finished lamely.

  Maybe feminine power was fiercer than she’d imagi
ned, Willa mused, if wielding just a hint of it caused a man like Ben McKinnon to flop like a trout on the hook. “Well, maybe you’re wrong.”

  It was a trick, he thought, as she drove on. There was a trap here somewhere, and it would snap its teeth on his ankle as soon as he took a wrong step. He watched her narrowly, ready for signs as she pulled up in front of the main house, turned off the engine.

  “Go on and drive this back,” she said easily. “I can send someone over to get it tomorrow. Thanks for the company.”

  Damn it, he could almost hear the snap of the spring as he stepped a toe into the trap. “Saturday night. Six o’clock. Dinner and a movie.”

  Her stomach muscles quivered with laughter, but she nodded soberly. “Fine. See you then.” And stepped out, shut the door in his face.

  SEVENTEEN

  W INTER CLUNG LIKE A BUR TO THE BACK OF MONTANA. Temperatures remained brutal, and when they rose to tolerable, snow tumbled from the sky in frosty sheets. Twice, access roads at Mercy were blocked by ten-foot drifts, piled into glossy white mountains by the unforgiving wind.

  Cows went into labor despite the weather. In the pole barn, Willa sweated through her shirt with the muscle-straining effort of pulling calves. An expectant mother mooed bitterly as Willa reached into the birth canal, grabbed hold. Still in the birth sac, the calf was slippery and stubborn. Willa dug in, hissing as the next contraction vised painfully on her hands.

  Her arms would carry bruises to the elbow before it was done.

  She waited it out, timed her pull, and dragged the first half of the cow out.

  “Coming on the next,” she called out as blood and amniotic fluid soaked her arms. “Let’s go, baby, let’s go.” Like a diver going under, she took a quick breath to fill her lungs with air, then dragged hard with the next contraction. The calf popped out like an oiled cork.

  Her boots were slimy, her thick cord pants stained. Her back was screaming. “Billy, stand by with the injections,” she ordered. “Keep an eye on them.”