Jack scoffed.
Ignoring Jack, she asked, “Ready?”
Seth bobbed his head and wrinkled his nose in dread.
Tracy spritzed the puncture wound with disinfectant, and Seth whimpered.
“Are you thinking about your favorite game?” Tracy asked and blew gently on the wound.
“Yeah, but it stings.”
“I know, sweetie, but you’re being very brave.”
Jack grunted again, and Tracy elbowed him, shooting him a quelling look.
With a shake of his head and a frown of discontent, Jack rose and walked away, turning his attention to the fence post that needed to be pounded back in place.
She continued doting on the little boy, savoring the opportunity to mother him, while Jack and Greta replaced the post and tightened the barbed wire.
For her efforts, Seth gave Tracy a kiss on the cheek. The sweet gesture burrowed deep in her heart and stirred an ache for children of her own to cuddle and nurture. As she rose from the ground, her muscles protesting with a stiff throb, she sensed Jack’s gaze on her.
A side glance confirmed as much, and rather than avoid him and his reproach, she marched over to him and raised her chin. “I’m sorry if I overstepped, but little boys need motherly coddling every now and then.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “He was playing you. He knew you’d fuss over him, so he pulled out the crocodile tears and theatrics for your benefit.”
“It may have been an act, but have you considered that maybe he did it because he misses having a mother to dote on him?”
Jack narrowed his eyes and braced a hand on his hip as he faced her. “Are you implying I don’t give my son enough attention?”
“Not at all. By all indications, you’ve been a great father.” Her assessment seemed to appease him a bit. “But there’s a reason children have a mother and a father. Mothers provide something fathers can’t.”
Turning back to his saddlebag, where he stowed his tools, he shook his head. “Bull. I’m doing just fine caring for my son alone.”
“I’m not criticizing. Single parents raise healthy, well-adjusted children all the time. I don’t mean to imply otherwise. I’m just saying a little boy needs what a mother can—”
“Daddy!” Seth called from the back of his pony, interrupting her. “Can I ride ahead with Aunt Greta?”
Jack jerked a nod. “Sure, go on.”
The little boy spurred his pony and set off.
When Tracy opened her mouth to continue making her case, Jack cut her off, waving a finger toward Mabel. “Need a hand up?”
Taking her cue that the subject of Seth’s need for mothering was closed, she eyed the large horse and grimaced. “I, um...”
He strode over to Mabel and held the stirrup steady. “Come on.”
When Tracy fixed her foot in it and pushed off the ground, he planted his hand on her bottom and gave her a needed boost to propel her into the saddle. She gasped at the intimacy of his touch, and desire like Fourth of July sparklers crackled in her veins. Even after he’d sauntered back to Buck and climbed into his own saddle, Tracy could feel the heat of his hand on her buttock, as if he’d branded her. Jack hung back, waiting for her to ride ahead, and she tugged hard on Mabel’s reins, bringing her head up from her continued snacking.
“You should consider getting Seth a tetanus shot.” Her voice croaked, giving away her lingering jitters as Mabel strolled past Buck and they moved on down the fence line. Tracy sat taller in her saddle, pretending confidence she didn’t feel around Jack. Her attraction to him rattled her and undermined her mission to build a relationship with Seth. “Despite your dismissal, that was a pretty deep puncture wound.”
“He’s had one.” Jack paused, then added, “But...thanks.” A moment later, he cleared his throat and added, “I appreciate your concern. And your tending to him.”
The wind blew a wisp of her hair in her face, and she tucked it behind her ear as she gave Jack a nod. “My pleasure. He’s a wonderful little boy.”
A grin ghosted across Jack’s lips in acknowledgment, and he fell silent for a moment. His expression grew pensive, then a pained look crossed his face. “He’s my life. I’d be lost without him.” Jack sighed and cast a side glance her way. “I guess that’s why I get so...protective of him. Overprotective, if I feel a threat to him.”
“And you see me as a threat?”
He didn’t answer right away. Finally, he muttered, “I did.”
His use of the past tense startled her. “And now?”
“I believe you don’t want to hurt him.” Jack’s concession on that point was a major victory in her eyes. But then he added, “However...threats come in many forms. What if he grows attached to you and then you go home and...”
He let his sentence trail off, and she recognized a wounded look in his eyes she knew he would never vocalize. One of disappointment and inner pain.
Greta claimed Jack had loved Laura. Had her cousin broken his heart when she’d left? Was the source of his anger and resentment a lingering ache from lost love? Maybe part of Jack’s protectiveness for his son was rooted in his own defensive walls. Was he afraid to let a woman back in his life—and therefore his son’s—because he had never recovered from the wounds of his broken marriage?
“Miss Tracy!”
She shifted her attention to Seth, who was riding back to them with a fistful of wildflowers. “Whatcha got there, sweetie?”
“Flowers. They’re for you.” He rode up beside her and handed the scraggly bouquet to her.
Holding the horn of her saddle so she wouldn’t fall, she reached down to take the yellow and purple blossoms. “Why, Seth! These are lovely. Thank you.”
She took a big sniff for show, though they didn’t seem to have any discernible fragrance.
Seth beamed. “Aunt Greta says girls love getting flowers.”
“She’s right. The best part for me is knowing these are from you.”
Clearly pleased with himself, Seth tugged Pooh’s reins, turned the pony and rode off again.
When Tracy glanced at Jack, she saw the wrinkle of concern in his brow, and she lifted her chin. “Jack, this doesn’t have to end badly. If you’ll let me, I could have an ongoing relationship with Seth. I don’t want to disappear from his life. I want to know him. Watch him grow up. Be a part of his life in a way Laura never could.”
Jack’s square jaw tightened, making his countenance appear all the more rough-hewed and severe. “We’ll see. One step at a time.”
His bright green eyes mirrored the intensity of his voice, and she felt an answering tremor deep in her core. Not of fear, but of yearning. A delicious, tantalizing stirring that made her heart beat faster, her nerves tingle and her breath quake. Jack Colton spoke to the very root of her. Her soul. Her marrow. Her heart.
When planning her mission here to meet Seth, she’d never considered the possibility of falling for Seth’s father. But now she needed to examine how that might change things. Because she could feel herself succumbing to Jack Colton’s spell.
* * *
Tracy had certainly cast her spell over Seth. Jack brought up the rear of their little parade and kept a close eye on the interaction between his son and Laura’s cousin. Their conversation was superficial and lighthearted, eliciting frequent laughter from both. His son’s giggles never failed to lift his own spirits, the sound so full of youthful glee. And Tracy’s laugh had its own mesmerizing effect on him. At first, her chuckling sounded rusty, as if she had to dust it off from infrequent use. That fit the image he’d built of her, his suspicion that she’d come from an unhappy, abusive marriage. As the ride progressed and she relaxed with Seth, her laughter loosened up, the musical notes tickling Jack’s gut like bubbles in champagne.
He noticed, too, the comfortable way she sat her horse. For someone who’d been in a saddle only once or twice before, she had a natural grace and skill. And if he found himself staring at the curve of her bottom and
the way her slim legs hugged Mabel’s flanks, it was because he was admiring her horsemanship and not the way her jeans fit her trim build. Yeah, right, Colton. Who do you think you’re kidding?
He blew out a sigh, tamping down the kick of lust that coiled like a rattlesnake in his core. After ten years of a reckless, wild lifestyle, followed by a short marriage, he’d been virtually celibate for the past five years. His choice. He’d wanted to focus all his energy and attention on Seth, and making the ranch prosper during tough economic times. But the sexual drought had left him all the more primed and tuned to chemistry he sensed with Tracy—or that’s what he told himself. Admitting he had a natural rapport and physical connection to Laura’s cousin left him edgy and off balance.
“Jack, do you see this?” Greta called from the front of their group. The uneasy tone of her voice as much as her question brought him out of his reverie.
He followed her pointing finger to the old family cemetery, situated under the branches of a large, sprawling oak tree, where Big J’s ancestors had been buried. Jack didn’t see what had disturbed Greta right away, but when he looked closer, squinting against the bright sun, he saw the small pile of dirt and the shovel that lay next to a hole in the ground. Was there a grave robber loose on the Lucky C?
“What is it, Daddy?” Seth asked, standing in his stirrups to see across the meadow.
“I don’t know.” Jack tugged Buck’s reins and headed toward the cemetery. “Seth, wait here with Tracy while I take a closer look.”
“Why can’t I come?” Seth whined, but Jack didn’t linger to debate his order. Greta fell in behind him, and they dismounted together at the edge of the low fence that surrounded the small family graveyard.
Jack walked first to the pile of dirt and lifted the shovel that had been left there. He recognized it as one used in the stable for mucking out stalls.
Greta rounded the small pile of dirt and peered into the hole that had been dug. “It’s not one of the marked graves, but—” She stopped abruptly, gasping and stumbling back from the freshly dug pit.
“Greta?” Jack hurried to his sister. “Are you all right?”
She aimed a shaky finger toward the hole. “I’m better than whoever that is.” When he frowned in question, she pointed again. “Look.”
Even before he peered down into the earth, apprehension tightened his gut. At the bottom of the freshly dug hole lay the pale bones of a tiny human skeleton.
“It’s a baby, isn’t it?” Greta asked, her voice choked with tears.
Jack clenched his back teeth so hard his jaw ached. “Seems to be, judging from the size.”
“Who is it?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Or maybe I should ask whose is it, considering there’s no headstone.”
“Good question.” He swiped a hand over his face and stepped back from the grave. He had no way of guessing how old the bones might be or how long they’d been buried.
Greta edged closer to him and rested a hand on his forearm. “What do you think happened to it? Did Big J ever mention to you about a baby being buried here?”
Jack shook his head. “Not that I remember. If it was a relative of Big J’s, why isn’t there a headstone?”
“I don’t like this, Jack.” Greta’s voice cracked, and her breathing was shallow. “It doesn’t feel right. And I don’t just mean because a baby died. Why would someone dig up the bones? Why would they leave the grave open like this? Just...abandoned and exposed?”
“It’s not right.” He turned slowly, surveying the area for further clues about what had happened and who’d been there. “It’s not right at all.”
“What is it, Dad?” Seth’s voice called from the bottom of the hill.
“Stay put!” Jack shouted back. He didn’t need his son having nightmares about dead babies and open graves. Bad enough the sight was burned into his own brain and Greta’s.
“What do we do?” his sister asked, her fingers tightening on his arm.
“We do nothing. Treat it like a crime scene, and don’t touch anything.” He pulled out his cell phone and checked for signal strength. As with many of the more remote spots on the ranch, he had no reception here. He put his arm around his sister’s shoulders and guided her toward the horses. “When I get back to the house, I’ll call Ryan. If there’s no official record of the baby’s burial, I’m guessing the coroner will have to exhume the remains.”
Greta cast another worried glance over her shoulder to the cemetery before mounting her horse. “What good will that do?”
“They may be able to tell us how long ago the baby died, and if it died from foul play. A DNA profile could tell us more about who the baby is.”
Greta gave a visible shudder before snapping her reins and heading back down the hill. “It’s so creepy...and sad. That poor baby!”
“There could be a simple explanation,” Jack said, trying to reassure his sister, though the image of the tiny skeleton still haunted him, as well. “Remember, infant mortality was much higher even as recently as fifty years ago.”
“What was it?” Seth asked again as they approached.
“Nothing for you to worry about. Let’s head back to the house. We all have work to do.”
Tracy rode up close to Jack as Greta turned for the stable with Seth leading the way.
“Well?” she asked in a quiet tone.
He hesitated, casting a grim glance at her. “Someone dug up an unmarked grave, exposing the skeleton of a baby.”
Tracy’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord! Who—what—?”
“Yeah. My sentiments exactly.”
“Oh, Jack...” Beneath the hint of sunburn that colored her cheeks, Tracy’s face was as white as a ghost. Her blue eyes grew wide and looked haunted. A knot of regret twisted inside him for the lost joviality she and Seth had shared earlier. Jack already missed the bubbly sound of her laughter and the light of her teasing smile.
He put away the reasons for his powerful reaction to her, to examine later. Right now they had the upsetting find at the cemetery to deal with and a ranch to run. His unexplained attraction to Tracy would wait for another day.
Chapter 6
Half an hour later, they returned to the stable, and though stiff and a bit sore, Tracy had to admit she’d found the horseback ride exhilarating—save for the gruesome discovery at the cemetery.
When she said as much, Greta offered to give her an official riding lesson. It would help reduce her aches by training her to stand in the stirrups instead of bouncing in the saddle.
“I’d love that. Thanks.” Tracy watched from the corner of her eye as Jack led his horse and hers into the stable and started removing the saddles and blankets.
“I have wedding-related appointments this week in Oklahoma City, but...” Greta pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head, clearly still rattled by her sad find. “Um...I’ll be back Thursday afternoon. So maybe that evening?”
Tracy followed Greta into the shade of the stable and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the dimmer light. “Sure. It’s a date.”
Seth was already sponging Pooh off, cooling the pony down. Tracy watched him for a moment, amazed at what he could do at age five. If Seth could tend Pooh, she needed to learn to care for Mabel. Stepping over to Jack, she held her hand out for the sponge he was using to clean the gentle mare.
“Shouldn’t I be doing that?”
He considered her proffered hand and raised an eyebrow. “It’s the mark of a good horseman to properly care for your horse.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She took the wet sponge from him and faced Mabel’s flank. “Show me what to do.”
He stepped close behind Tracy, covering her hand with his, his chest nestled against her back. “Like this. You want to clean the sweat and dirt left under the saddle,” he said, but she could barely hear his instructions over the heady buzzing in her ears. “Do a visual check for sores or other wounds that may need attention.”
Cool water rippled down
Mabel’s sides as Jack guided Tracy’s hand in long strokes. When Mabel snuffled and tossed her mane, Jack chuckled. “You like that, girl?”
She couldn’t speak for Mabel, but Tracy was enjoying the grooming lesson quite a bit. The press of Jack’s body against hers was heavenly. Despite the odors of horse sweat and straw, she caught a hint of the crisp masculine scent that clung to him, a heady blend of soap and spice. He stepped back from her, taking the sponge with him to refresh in the water bucket, and she shook herself from her trance. This time when he handed her the sponge, he stayed where he was, letting her wipe Mabel down without his help.
“That’s the way. When you’re done with that, you’ll dry her off with the same long strokes.” He pointed out a towel waiting on a hook by Mabel’s stall. “And when you’ve finished that, call me, and I’ll help you check her hooves for stones or other problems.”
He stepped aside, unclipping his cell phone from his belt and thumbing in a number from memory. “Hey, Ryan. It’s Jack...yeah, we have a situation out here. At the old Colton cemetery on the north property...” His voice faded as he stalked toward the other end of the stable.
Shuddering at the thought of the skeleton Jack had found, Tracy wiped the perspiration from her temple with her arm, careful to avoid wetting herself with the sponge. Strands of hair fell in her face, and she carefully plucked at them with her damp fingers. She’d need a shower after this for sure.
Greta strolled past and nudged her with an elbow. “Here.” She held a ponytail holder on her palm, which Tracy accepted gratefully. “You’ll find it’s most practical to wear your hair back on the ranch. I have a bunch of these bands up at the house if you want a few.”
“Thanks.” Tracy contemplated the sponge in one hand and the elastic hair holder in the other for a second before Greta chuckled.
“Let me.” Jack’s sister took the elastic band back from her and finger-combed Tracy’s hair into a respectably neat ponytail. “There.” Greta stepped in front of her to inspect her handiwork, and an odd expression crossed her face.
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