by Susan Fox
But he’d heard that testimony had also revealed her wild race to her horse, then her dogged chase along the edge of the swift-running flood waters to throw Beau a rope. The riders had been too far away for her to hear their shouts or the hoofbeats of their horses over the roar of the water, so her efforts then must have been genuine.
Unless she’d suddenly realized what she’d done by kicking Beau away and was frantic to rectify her rash act.
When Beau had been struck by a flood-driven tree branch and disappeared beneath the surface of the dark water, Caitlin had given up trying to drag back the rope for another try. She’d vaulted off her horse and had been about to plunge into the flood water after Beau, when Lucky reached her and all but tackled her to keep her from jumping in. It had taken all three men to restrain her.
Later, they’d found Beau’s body miles down the river. The power of the water had torn most of his clothes off. The flood-driven debris had so battered him that he’d been almost unrecognizable. Reno was the one who’d identified his body.
The stark horror of it still haunted him and he tossed back the whiskey, hoping for the fiery burn to distract him from the memory.
Grief had taken a toll on them all, but his mother had suffered it the strongest. Unable to bear the death of her youngest son, she’d lost her mind soon afterward. Her days settled into a pattern of listlessness, punctuated by exhausting hours of rage. She rarely ate and rarely slept. She either wandered the house at all hours in a daze, or she locked herself in her room and screamed. Most of her rage had been directed toward Caitlin. But sometimes, when she was at her worst, she’d blamed Reno.
Reno had accepted long ago that Beau was his mother’s favorite son. Mother and son had been unusually close. Because he’d had to bear the responsibility of the family ranch after his father’s death when he was seventeen, Reno hadn’t been able to be a close part of the relationship between his mother and brother.
He hadn’t approved of the fact that his mother spoiled his kid brother with attention and affection, but he’d kept silent. Sheila had had a difficult time with his father’s death, and he’d figured her focus on Beau was her way of coping.
He’d overlooked his own hurt. At seventeen, he’d considered himself too much a man to be petted and spoiled like his seven-year-old brother.
Over the years, his mother had come to see him as an authority figure and provider rather than a true son. After Beau’s death, he became aware of how vast the distance between him and his mother had grown when she began to blame him for being the son who was still alive.
He’d never forget her first screaming fury when she’d turned on him, slapped his face, and cursed him for being alive while Beau laid cold in his grave.
After that, Jess had gotten her professional help. In the months that followed, she’d been in and out of the Coulter City hospital psychiatric ward. And though she began to have times when she seemed lucid, she’d never truly recovered.
On the last day of her life, she’d flown into another wild rage. The heart problems that had recently developed made her susceptible to the sudden heart attack that killed her. But not before she’d cursed him one last time for not being the son she’d had to bury.
They found out later that she’d been hiding her medication instead of taking it, which explained the intensity of her last outburst. But nothing, not even the abnormal extent of her grief, excused her blaming him for being alive.
Reno reached for the whiskey decanter and poured himself another drink.
Surely it was the injustice of what his mother had done to him that made him feel this odd sympathy for Caitlin. The more he remembered about his visits to the Broken B years ago, the more he began to wonder just how harshly Jess had treated her when he wasn’t around. Jess’s demand for proof of paternity was as cruel as Reno’s mother’s wish that he had died instead of Beau. Perhaps that accounted for this slow softening toward Caitlin.
What had Lucky and the others seen that day? Had Caitlin kicked Beau away on purpose, or had his hand slipped off her wet boot? Could the instinct to save herself have been so strong that she’d kicked off Beau’s grip to keep from being dragged into the raging current?
Whatever had happened, it was a fact that Caitlin was the reason Beau had been at the canyon. If everyone hadn’t worried about her going out alone at a dangerous time, Beau wouldn’t have been out trying to find her. If she’d been at the house where she belonged, instead of pouting, Beau would still be alive.
This time, the whiskey went down hot, but without the fire. It did nothing to blunt the turmoil inside him.
CHAPTER FOUR
AT THE funeral, Reno, Caitlin, and her cousin, Madison, sat in the secluded alcove reserved for family. Reno sat between the two cousins. That Reno sat anywhere near Caitlin surprised her.
Unless it was to prevent gossip. On the other hand, it seemed to Caitlin that Reno’s sitting next to her would cause more gossip than if he’d maintained a physical distance.
She struggled not to read anything hopeful into his actions. He’d been remote with her that day, though his hostility seemed to have eased. It might simply be that all his attention was on the funeral. It made sense that he was the only true mourner in the family alcove, since his relationship with Jess had been a good one.
Madison didn’t speak to Caitlin. Instead, she maintained a frosty silence that warned Caitlin not to address her directly. Her cousin’s ability to treat her as a nonentity compounded the melancholy she felt.
Madison had grown into a very beautiful woman. She’d lightened her blond hair and now dressed chicly. Her expertly made-up face and perfectly manicured nails hinted at an obsession with her looks. There was no sign of the shy tomboy she’d once been.
Her frigid blond beauty contrasted with Caitlin’s dark coloring, but their eyes were the same jewel blue, and they shared the same patrician features that marked them as family.
Caitlin thought about her mother’s pictures, which she’d been unable to find at the ranch. Did she dare ask Madison if they’d been among their grandmother’s things? Would Madison even acknowledge the question?
The service seemed to take forever. Caitlin sat dry-eyed throughout, though she felt the heavy pressure of grief. When the service was over, Reno directed them to the funeral car for family that would follow the hearse.
Madison declined the ride in the family car, and slid into the back seat of her own black Cadillac. Her chauffeur drove her to the cemetery.
The graveside service was blessedly brief, though it took a long time for the crowd to assemble around the large green tent that sheltered the grave.
Reno’s late mother, Sheila, shared the same headstone as Jess. Beau was buried next to his mother. Caitlin’s mother was buried in another section of the cemetery, forever exiled.
The large number of mourners made Caitlin feel self-conscious. She sat with Reno and Madison on the chairs set out across from the casket for family, and felt the curious stares of everyone near enough to see her. When the brief service was over, she quietly got to her feet, meaning to escape the ritual of greeting the line of mourners who would file past the family to extend final condolences.
She started to ease away from the chairs into the crowd, but Reno stood and caught her elbow. His touch was disturbing, and it shocked her when he started through the crowd, keeping her at his side. She heard a few murmurs of surprise, but the mourners parted before them in quiet deference.
Caitlin glanced once at Reno’s iron profile, but his stern manner discouraged her from questioning his action. The driver of the funeral car opened the back door for them and Reno ushered her in.
The driver carefully pulled the car out of line to pass the parked hearse. Because there was no privacy window between them and the driver, neither of them spoke.
When they arrived back at the ranch, she and Reno got out of the car and walked into the house. Reno had hired extra help for Mary in anticipation of the crowd they expected
after the funeral. The dining room table had been arranged for a buffet-style luncheon. Caitlin moved away from Reno to the front stairs.
“Where are you going?” The low question made her hesitate.
“I thought I’d go riding.”
“We have company coming.”
Caitlin gave her head a small shake, but didn’t look back at him. “You have company coming.”
She went tense waiting for Reno to demand that she stay.
“Take a cell phone.”
His gruff order made her relax. She hadn’t wanted to get into an argument with him, but she didn’t want to stay at the house and endure the disapproval of the funeral guests.
It had already occurred to her that Reno had led her away from the graveside service to prevent that. His easy capitulation on the subject of her skipping the dinner and absenting herself from the house confirmed it.
Caitlin went quickly up the stairs. She changed her clothes and escaped to the range just as the first of the mourners arrived at the main house.
It was early evening when Caitlin arrived back at the stables. There was no activity at the main house. The cars that must have lined the driveway and parked on the lawn that afternoon were gone.
The moment she led her horse into the barn, she caught a whiff of sulphur and cigarette smoke. She dropped the gelding’s reins, trusting him to stand, and walked quietly down the stable aisle to find the source of the odor.
Smoking in the stables and barns was forbidden with so much hay and wood around. Unable to find anyone in the barn, she walked back to the gelding. The smell of cigarette smoke still drifted in the air.
Childish voices from overhead made her glance up. The hayloft over the stable might not be full of hay this time of year, but it was still off-limits to smokers. From the sound of it, a couple of the children who lived with their families on the ranch were up there.
Caitlin walked to the ladder and quietly climbed up to the loft. Half the space under the large roof was packed with hay bales but, as she’d expected, the other half was empty except for some loose hay scattered on the plywood floor. A small fort of hay bales had been arranged near one side of the sloping roof. The giggles and kid voices—along with a haze of cigarette smoke—were coming from the hay fort.
She couldn’t keep her boots perfectly silent on the plywood, and it squeaked beneath her feet as she crossed it.
Caitlin heard a gasp, then a wild shuffling. She reached the hay fort and looked over its low side just as the two boys were stubbing out the cigarette. The empty matchbooks and burned matches that littered the raw plywood between them told her this might not be the first time the two boys had hidden out in the loft playing with matches.
“Who are you?” Caitlin’s voice was stern.
Both boys looked up, their dark eyes wide with surprise and fear. They couldn’t have been older than nine or ten. It took them so long to answer that Caitlin repeated the question.
“That’s Billy,” the larger of the two said as he pointed to the other boy. “I’m Mike.”
Caitlin dealt with them firmly, making them pick up every matchbook and matchstick, along with what was left of the cigarette. She checked the hay bales herself for any sign that a stray match or cigarette ash had fallen into them. While the boys stood by, she dismantled their hay fort and separated the bales. She escorted them down the ladder into the stable, then made them wait while she put up her horse.
Both boys seemed afraid of her and she did nothing to put them at ease. Better to make a scary impression on them now that would discourage further experimentation, than go easy on them and risk that they wouldn’t take this seriously. Barn fires could be deadly, and she couldn’t bear the thought of a child being caught in one.
She had them take her to their house. The cowhand who came to the door let them in. He called to his wife, who hurried in from the kitchen. The cowboy was initially respectful toward her, but Caitlin saw the wary disapproval in his dark gaze. His wife watched her with open suspicion.
Both parents stood by somberly as she showed them the mangled cigarette and blackened matches. When she finished the account, the cowboy’s low “I’ll deal with my boys, Miz Bodine,” sounded more defensive than cooperative.
That both parents resented her was plain on their unsmiling faces. Nervousness made her try to placate them in some way.
“I remember when Lucky Reed caught me smoking in that same loft,” she said, then offered the couple a slight smile to lighten their dark expressions. “It was...memorable.”
Neither parent spoke. Instead, the wife’s gaze sharpened on her as if she’d taken offense that Caitlin had compared anything about herself to her sons. Caitlin’s slight smile faded.
Her soft “You have a pair of fine-looking boys,” was not only a truthful observation, but one which she considered diplomatic. Unfortunately, it succeeded only in prolonging the hostile silence. Caitlin gave them a polite nod and turned to leave. The door banged closed behind her the moment she stepped outside.
Caitlin walked to the main house, shaken by the encounter. The barely concealed hostility of the cowboy and his wife was upsetting. Perhaps she should have told Reno about the boys and let him handle it.
By the time she reached the ranch house, Mary had finished working for the day. Caitlin could hear the TV on in Mary’s quarters on the south wing of the main floor, so she helped herself to a few of the leftovers from the funeral dinner that day.
The ranch phone rang, but someone answered it on the second ring. Either Mary had picked it up or Reno had in the den, since he was probably doing paperwork.
She forced down a few bites of food, dismayed by her persistent lack of appetite, then gave up.
She went upstairs to get ready for bed. This was one day she was eager to put behind her. The funeral was over, and she’d gotten through it. She wanted to forget about the ranch hand and his wife, but the scene kept replaying in her mind. What did the other men on the Broken B really think of her? If she could inherit, would they ever accept her in any position of authority? What if they couldn’t accept her presence on the ranch at all?
Once more she considered the wisdom of leaving it all behind, of leaving the Broken B forever. Suddenly it seemed she stood balanced precariously between a past she couldn’t overcome and a future that would forever be hindered by the events of the past.
Restlessness made her finish her shower quickly and dry her hair. When she came out of the bathroom, the intercom on the night table was buzzing. Caitlin went directly to it and pressed the button.
Her “Yes?” was answered by Reno’s brisk, “I want to see you right away.” His voice was harsh and her unease multiplied.
Caitlin dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a blouse. She hurried down to the den, her stomach in knots. Something was wrong, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why Reno had suddenly ordered her downstairs. Her question about what the men on the Broken B thought of her was answered the moment she walked into the den.
“Dean Carnes and his wife are upset about you being around their boys.”
Caitlin came forward, but didn’t take a seat in one of the wing chairs. Reno was leaning back in the huge swivel chair behind the desk, his face harsh with disapproval.
“I caught the boys in the loft, smoking a cigarette and playing with matches.”
Reno’s dark brows lowered. He ignored her explanation. “They don’t want you near their kids.”
The statement made her heart sink. “If they’d started a fire in the loft, their parents might have something worse to worry about than me.”
“Dean Carnes is more valuable to the ranch than you are right now, so stay away from them.”
Stung, Caitlin’s gaze wavered. “I’m certain you’d think a lame horse is more valuable to this ranch than I’ll ever be,” she said, then met his gaze squarely. “If I can inherit, Dean Carnes might have to be replaced.”
“Carnes has a family to support,” he pointed
out grimly.
Caitlin nodded her agreement. “Maybe he’ll need to keep that in mind.”
Her implied threat charged the air between them. Reno gave her a look that glittered with temper.
“If you fire every man on this ranch who won’t kiss your backside, we won’t have enough men left to fill a pickup.”
“They don’t have to kiss my backside,” she said quietly. “They only have to tolerate me and show reasonable respect.”
“Respect is something you earn.” Reno’s low reminder hinted that respect was something she’d never have.
She lifted her chin. “The men will follow your lead.”
The silence that followed her statement stretched out. Reno’s harsh expression didn’t change.
“Then give up.”
Whatever small gain she thought she’d made with him evaporated. She swallowed hard at the emotions that were suddenly choking her. She struck back, but her voice was soft.
“Someday, you’ll have to listen to what happened when Beau died.”
Reno’s glittering gaze dulled. “You were the reason Beau was at the canyon that day. If you hadn’t gone off in a tantrum, he’d still be alive.”
Though Reno’s anger radiated toward her in hot waves, she stood her ground. When Reno’s mother had become hysterical at the inquest and the judge had ordered her out of the courtroom, it had been Reno who’d escorted her out. “You never did hear all of Lucky’s testimony, none of Bob’s or Tar’s. And you never heard mine.”
Cold fury ignited in Reno’s eyes before he broke contact with her steady gaze. He shoved his chair back and was on his feet so suddenly that the movement startled her. He reached for the scattered papers he’d been looking through and raked them into a rough pile. The repressed violence of his movements was telling. He didn’t look at her again, though she could see a muscle in his jaw flexing wildly.
His growling “Get out,” was frightening.