“Yeah? Then why doesn’t it make sense?” he snapped, his voice pitched low.
She stared up at him in the dim light from the hallway. “What doesn’t make sense?”
“Why can you remember some things and not others? Why can’t you remember my brother?” His brooding gaze pierced her. “What—or who—were you tryin’ to leave behind in Oklahoma City?”
Shock ripped through her. “Why do you think I was trying to leave something there?”
“I guess because I just don’t buy how you woke up, or came to, or however you choose to explain your amnesia, with the one thought that you had to get to me for everything to be right with you.”
He took a step closer, and she flattened herself against the doorjamb to keep from coming into contact with him. Yes, that was what she wanted, she couldn’t deny it, but not this way.
“You didn’t even know me, and I sure didn’t know you,” he continued, a note of desperation in his voice, “but that didn’t stop you in the least from latching on to me, justifyin’ it with that silly notion of yours that it was fate or destiny that brought you here.”
“It’s not silly!” Sara heard how desperate she herself sounded. “All right, maybe there’s something else going on with me, but when I first woke up in your bed—in your house, I mean—I really did believe I’d been sent to you because this was where I belonged. But when you didn’t know me, that’s when the labor pains first struck. And so why else had I been guided to you other than because you were supposed to help deliver my baby? It was destiny, Cade, and you can’t make me believe any different!”
“So you call runnin’ from your responsibilities destiny?”
“I am living up to my responsibilities!” she declared, tears threatening in the back of her eyes. “I am! I would have done anything, anything to make sure his child was brought safely into this world!”
“I’m not talking about the baby!”
Before she could register what was happening, he’d raised his hand, and she thought he meant to curl his fingers about the back of her neck and pull her close to...to do what? Instead, he reached for the chain around her throat. With one swift tug, he broke it.
Grabbing her wrist, he dropped the chain and the ring it held into her palm. “You’re lookin’ for ways to remember Loren? You can start by wearing his ring. And while you’re at it, maybe it’ll help you recall what it is that destiny’s made happen that you don’t have the nerve to face, so much that you’ve blocked out all memory of it—or should I say him?”
He struck another blow, dead on, and Sara fought back this time. There was just no way she was going to go back to that place that seemed to wreak such fear in her. Not this way, without someone to support her. Not without Cade to support her.
Oh, but how had he become the one she needed to defend herself against?
“I’ve blocked Loren out of my memory?” she asked. “What about you?” She flung out an arm, making a circle of the room. “You said it yourself. I haven’t seen a single picture of your brother! Why is that, Cade? You think I don’t see how much it pains you to be here with me? What don’t I know about the two of you that might not be because I’m forgetting it?”
He stared at her, his slack expression reflecting the fact that she’d taken the wind right out of him. She got no satisfaction from doing so; if anything, it hurt her as much as him, for they were both in the same boat here. And both rowing like crazy to keep the inevitable from happening.
It was too late, though, at least for her. She’d already tumbled headfirst over the waterfall. She couldn’t go back.
The baby hiccuped, then started to cry. And still they stood chest to chest, neither willing—or was it able?—to move, as if a magnetic force bound them together.
She had to, though, and soon. Baby Cade needed her.
It was the only force stronger right now. Still, it took everything in her to break eye contact with Cade.
Sara pivoted and stepped to the cradle, lifting out Baby Cade and trying to kiss away his tears, stifling back her own.
“Hush, now. Mama’s here,” she crooned, her voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, sweetheart.”
She turned to find Cade still lingered in the doorway.
“You don’t have to stay any longer,” she said, this time meaning it with all her heart. “In fact, you’re hereby released from any promises you made to either me or your nephew. You’re free to leave.”
He looked as bleak as she’d ever seen him. “Well, as luck would have it, Sara, I’ve got nowhere else to go.”
With that, he turned and left, footsteps echoing in the silence.
She opened her clenched hand. The ring glowed in the ambient light from the hallway. Shaking, Sara shifted the quieting infant to one arm and slid the gold band onto her left ring finger.
It brought her no comfort, but neither did it cause her pain. Just...sadness. A sadness she knew she could not escape.
No, such tactics obviously hadn’t worked before in that murky past of hers. They wouldn’t now.
“But I’m not the only one,” she whispered, lips pressed to her child’s velvety crown as she lifted him close. “Just because you stay, Cade McGivern, doesn’t mean you’re still not facing up to something, too.”
Chapter Six
SARA WALKED WITH peglike steps on the packed snow, arms out to keep her balance in the too large snow boots Virgil had dug out from who-knew-where and insisted she wear if she had her mind set on venturing out into the cold.
Which she had. She’d come down with a powerful case of cabin fever, and now that she had a willing baby-sitter, she was anxious to take in some well-deserved air.
She filled her lungs with the sharp, invigorating stuff before blowing it out, improved by the experience. Maybe it would clear her head, as well. Last night had been hard on her, and not merely because she’d lost so much sleep. Yesterday’s repeated confrontations with Cade had worn her out and were wearing her down, as were the ups and downs of emotions such conflict wrought on her. She’d awoken this morning determined not to let them—or Cade—get the better of her.
Or these boots, which her feet didn’t fill by half. They were like walking in clown shoes, and probably just as funny looking. At least they’d keep her feet warm as she took in the scenery, such as it was.
The day was cold and clear, the sky a rich blue, made all the more blue by its contrast to the pristine snow that went on without relief for as far as the eye could see. The frigid breeze, when it was up, nearly robbed her of her breath, but she wasn’t about to turn around and head back for the ranch house.
Stepping carefully on the unevenly plowed ground, Sara rounded the corner of the barn—and jumped, nearly losing her balance, when she came face-to-face with Cade.
“Oh!” She leaned her hand against the side of the barn for support. “I didn’t know you were back from town.”
In fact, she wouldn’t have ventured outside if she’d known he was anywhere around, and experienced a moment of disappointment. She simply needed not to get into a confrontation with him, which they inevitably did.
He seemed as put out by her presence. “I’d picked up some extra mineral tubs and unloaded them, and didn’t feel like goin’ back inside yet,” he explained.
Yes, he’d been hoping to avoid her, too.
So this is what we’ve come to, she thought with regret.
He could have remained outside for quite a while, too, the way he was dressed in a chocolate-brown suede jacket, its wool lining peeking out at the collar, his hands protected by thick leather gloves. On his head he wore a black cowboy hat that succeeded, somehow, in shading his face just right, so the lines of nose, cheekbone and jaw were finely drawn, and the amber in his eyes glowed with a new depth as he looked pensively down at her.
Feeling even more awkward and unattractive, Sara dropped her chin, fumbling for the tissue in her pocket. That’s when she noticed behind him the glossy red-brown horse he held on a lead. It nickered gently, exhibiting none of its owner’s caution as it bumped Cade aside to stretch an inquiring nose toward her, nostrils flaring.
Immediately captivated, Sara extended her mittened hand for inspection. “Is this the horse you mentioned once? What did you say his name was?”
“This here’s Destiny,” Cade volunteered.
Reaching out, she stroked her mitten down the splash of white on his broad nose. “Destiny?” She arched an eyebrow.
“I didn’t name him, but I have to admit it fits.” Cade himself seemed unable to resist giving the horse’s long neck a pat or two as he gazed at him fondly. “Destiny’s gonna make my reputation.”
She sniffed, remembering her original intent, and rooted around in her pocket for the tissue. She couldn’t find it.
“Your reputation—as a rancher?” she asked, sniffing again and wondering if she’d have to resort to using her sleeve. Talk about being unattractive.
“Nope. As a horse trainer.” Apparently noticing her predicament, Cade pulled a clean, neatly folded bandanna from his back pocket and handed it to her. “Come spring I was aimin’ to take him around to some of the shows in my spare time, give people a gander at what I’ve taught him, and see if I could sign on a few clients.”
“Well, he’s beautiful just to look at,” she said, daubing at her drippy nose. “It must be magnificent to see him perform.”
She could tell she’d pleased him. “I was just gonna put him through a few paces in the corral,” Cade told her.
“Oh, can I watch?”
He shrugged as if it concerned him not the least. “Sure.”
She fell into step beside him as he continued toward the wood-fenced corral on the other side of the ranch yard near what must have been the stable. Sara concentrated on walking in the boots, still loose on her heels even with three pairs of socks on, becoming aware after a moment that Cade watched her.
“You must have been pretty desperate to get out of the house if you had to resort to wearing Virg’s hat and boots,” he commented.
“I was feeling hemmed in. Not that I don’t adore every minute with Baby Cade,” she added hastily.
“Well, I imagine the isolation out here on the ranch is hard on a body if you’re not used to it.”
She picked her way over a deep tire track in the snow. “How did you get used to it?”
Cade squinted against the glare of the sun. “So was it Virg or was it you who trussed you up like a Thanksgivin’ turkey?”
Wondering why he didn’t answer her question, she responded to his readily enough. “That would be Virgil. He must have packed twenty layers of clothes onto me. He didn’t want me to get cold, although I feel like I’ll perish from heat any minute.”
He opened the gate into the corral. “Well, you’ll cool off soon enough sittin’ up on this here top fence rail.”
Sara shaded her eyes against the late-afternoon sun. “Actually, I’m going to move over to the far side so I can see better.”
She trudged across the corral in those ridiculous boots and, grasping the top railing in both hands, struggled to climb up and sit on it, knowing she looked like a toddler trying to clamber onto a step stool.
“Here, let me give you a hand,” Cade said from behind her in that muted voice of the first night when he’d volunteered to comb her hair. Not really wanting to help, but making the gentlemanly gesture.
“I can do it,” Sara huffed crossly. With a grunt, she hauled herself up and managed to turn around and sit, but not without almost falling off backward into a drift of snow.
“See?” she said brightly, hoping he wouldn’t realize how ungainly and unattractive she felt—or wonder why it mattered to her if she wasn’t.
But he was back to his remote self, she could see. “Suit yourself.”
She could have cried with regret. How could things between them go so sour so quickly?
Yet it wasn’t to remain so, as Cade swung fluidly into the saddle. And the performance began.
Her mood did another of those flip-flops as Sara watched, rapt. Even without a background in horsemanship, she knew she was seeing a rare sight as Cade and the horse loped in a circle around the corral first one direction, then slowing to a steady walk before stopping smoothly and, with a graceful turn, reversing their direction, all without Cade saying a word or seemingly signaling the gelding in any way.
She forgot everything—her chapped cheeks, runny nose and absurd clothes—as the picture they made filled her vision, Cade sitting tall and relaxed in the saddle, his dark clothing and coloring perfectly complementing the glossy chestnut.
Horse and rider were a thing of sheer beauty, a study in movement, timing and undiluted talent. And love. More than anything else, Sara saw how much Cade loved this horse and loved riding it, giving himself over completely to it in a way that she knew instinctively made all the difference in the world in Destiny’s performance.
But then, she’d seen that ability in Cade before.
When he successfully got Destiny to sidestep over a railroad tie first in one direction then the other with nary a hesitation, Sara couldn’t restrain herself and burst into applause.
“Cade, that was wonderful!” she enthused with all sincerity. “I can certainly see why you want to take Destiny out and show off what you’ve taught him.”
He actually gave her an aw-shucks grin that made her heart thump, it was so open and unguarded. “Watch,” he said. “I only taught him this a few days ago.”
Sitting up straight in the saddle, Cade said, “Destiny.”
The gelding rolled his ears backward, listening.
“Destiny, I want you to back up three steps.”
Sara watched as, with no visible prompting from Cade, the horse took one, two, three steps back, and stopped.
Her jaw dropped. “How did you do that? You didn’t move a muscle.”
He leaned forward to stroke the horse’s neck. “Don’t need to, when you’ve got Destiny doin’ the arithmetic.”
“I know—you taught him how to take just three steps back and that’s it,” she called out, playing the skeptic for once.
Cade’s lifted eyebrows shifted the brim of his hat up an inch. “Did I? How many steps would you like him to take, then?”
“Okay, how about...seven.”
He gestured with a lift of the reins. “Don’t tell me, tell Destiny.”
Sara couldn’t resist the challenge. She stood up, balancing her feet on the lower railing and hanging on behind her with her mittened hands.
“Destiny,” she commanded in sonorous tones, “I want you to take seven steps back.”
The gelding reared his head, then dropped it, as if giving a nod. Cade was still as a carved totem pole on Destiny’s back. The horse lifted a hoof—then took one, two, three steps back...a pause...four, five, six back...another pause, then one more step. And stopped.
If it’d been warm enough for insects, a fly would have flown straight into her mouth. “How did you do that?” Sara demanded, sitting back down with a thump. “It’s like you and Destiny are fused together. You move together like one. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“Course, you don’t know but that you have seen somethin’ like it before,” Cade drawled as he rode over to her, “but I’ll take the compliment, anyway. You should s
ee him cut a contrary steer out of a bunch of cattle. Now there, he just plain shines.”
He reached down to rub Destiny’s neck. “Yup, what this is, is natural-born talent. I’ve never seen an animal more quick to learn or eager to please. He’s sure enough cut proud.”
As usual, he’d depreciated the matter, placing credit elsewhere, yet she could see in his eyes she’d again said something not only right, but something that had touched him deeply. All she’d given him was an appreciation of him for who he was and what he’d accomplished.
Cut proud. She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but it certainly described both horse and rider.
“So how does one learn to handle horses the way you do?” she asked, studying her clasped hands and being very careful not to spoil the moment. She wanted nothing less than to see it end.
“Horses have always been somethin’ I’ve just...known.” Cade dismounted and looped Destiny’s reins around the railing, resting his forearms next to them—next to her. “It’s hard to explain. When I come up on somethin’ I want Destiny to learn, I figure out, without even beginnin’ to know how, how I ought to go about it.”
“But you must have a clue as to how you know.”
He rubbed his gloved hands together ruminatively. “Well, I’ve studied on it and talked to some horse trainers about it. I guess in layman’s terms you just sort of ask the horse to do something by fixing it up and letting him find it. You make the wrong thing difficult to do, and the right thing easy. And you make sure you feel it yourself, all the way through your body on down to your toes.”
Sara was completely lost. “What do you mean?”
“Like when I wanted him to back up, I shifted back on the saddle just enough so Destiny wanted to step backward to keep the balance the same. I kept leanin’ back till he’d taken seven steps, then I shifted forward again, and he stopped tryin’ to correct the balance.”
“But I didn’t see you move at all!” Sara persisted, aware she was back to challenging him. Although he didn’t seem to mind her questions on this subject, perhaps because it was one he knew implicitly—and had the greatest confidence in.
New Year's Baby (Harlequin Heartwarming) Page 11