As a doctor, she’d taken enough psychology classes to know that people could sustain all kinds of injuries, not all of them physical, and she’d suspected that Cassidy had been dealt a nearly mortal wound to the soul.
She sighed—silently, she thought—until he turned his head to look her way. “Something wrong?” he demanded, his southwestern drawl unusually strong.
“What you said about the trip to Toponas, the inn with the canopied bed and you and I naked on the sheet—”
“Forget it, Karen.” She could swear he was blushing as he returned his gaze to the road ahead.
“It was a lovely idea.”
“It was a dumb idea, but I was desperate, and desperate men do desperate things.”
She made herself ignore the edge to his voice. “We could still go. I’m sure Mother’s home now, and we could leave Vicki and Rags at her place on the way. I have to work tomorrow afternoon, but we could spend Sunday morning in bed, the way we used to.”
His gaze flickered her way once more, compelling even in the dimly lit cab. “I’m shorthanded on Sunday, remember?”
Karen refused to give up. She pulled one hand from his jacket pocket and let her fingers curl over his hard quadriceps. He stiffened, but kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead.
“Did I ever tell you how much I love the feel of your body in mine, Cassidy?” she murmured, careful to keep her voice low. “The hard, smooth power of you. The scent of sexual musk, the ripple of your back muscles as you make yourself go slowly with me.”
His chest rose and fell in a jerky movement that gave her heart. Her own breathing was none too steady, either. “Stop it, Kari,” he demanded, his voice as strained as his breathing.
Emboldened by the hard bulge behind the fly of his trousers, she slid her fingers a few inches closer to that impressive ridge, only to have him clamp his hard fingers over hers, trapping her. “Golden Girl’s in foal,” he said in a rough whisper.
She tensed, picturing the pretty mare writhing in agony. “How do you know?”
“Called Billy a coupla times.”
She felt a pang of disappointment. “Is she doing okay?”
“Last I heard.”
Karen heard the low rasp of impatience in his voice and frowned. “You’re worried?”
“Some, yeah.” With a sigh she slipped her hand free and settled back against the hard seat.
“Is that why you looked as though you wanted to rip my head off when I asked you to dance with me?” she asked a few moments later.
He spared her a look that did little to warm her. “Dancing’s your thing, not mine.”
“That’s not true. I love the way you dance.”
One side of his surprisingly sensitive mouth eased into a cynical slant. “Sure you do. That’s why you looked like a cat lappin’ up cream while you were dancin’ with that hospital Romeo.”
Karen blinked. “How did you know Chuck worked at the hospital?”
“Asked around.”
A smile broke over her chilled face. “Why?”
“So I’d know whose jaw I was breakin’ if he moved his hand one inch lower.”
Karen laughed softly and hugged the knowledge of his jealousy to her like a cozy blanket on a frigid day. If he could feel one emotion, he could feel others.
“Chuck’s harmless,” she said with a shrug. “Besides, it was just a dance.”
Cassidy took a tighter grip on the wheel. The last thing he needed now was a reminder of the sight of another man all but making love to his wife on the dance floor. Especially when his body was engorged and hurting. “Don’t kid yourself, Kari. Good old harmless Chuck was angling for more than a two-step.”
Her laughter was as soft as an early morning breeze. He felt the need for her all the way to the quick, where it twisted and burned like forge-heated steel.
“Oh, Cassidy, I do love you,” she murmured, gazing at him with her heart—and expectation—in her eyes.
Those damn words again, he thought with a bitter weariness. Like they solved everything.
“Rain’s lettin’ up.”
“Please, Cassidy, don’t shut me out,” she pleaded with soft urgency. “I hate this tension between us.”
“Kari, I’m doing the best I can here.”
“I’m trying to understand, but you’re making it difficult.” She leaned closer and her scent tantalized his senses. “All I’m asking is that you meet me halfway.”
“There’s no halfway in marriage, Karen. Either your family comes first or it doesn’t.”
“You’re determined to make me feel guilty for wanting to heal people who are sick, aren’t you.”
She could have sworn he flinched, then decided it had been a trick of the light. “No, I’m trying to make you see how much you’re hurting your child by insisting on having your own way.”
He heard a rustling as she settled back against the seat. The soft sigh reaching him moments later tore at him. He’d hurt her—again. It seemed as though he was always hurting her these days. But damn, he just wanted what was best for the child they’d brought into the world. He’d tried in every way he knew how to bend. Why couldn’t she do the same?
* * *
Karen was half-asleep, her eyes half-closed when the turn to the ranch came into view. She felt a change in the monotonous rhythm as the truck slowed and swayed, then rumbled over the cattle guard beneath the rough-hewn logs forming an entrance arch. Beyond the heavy timbers signifying the beginning of Lazy S land, the road turned to gravel, still heavily rutted by the winter thaw.
As they rounded that first slow curve before the track wended its serpentine way up the rise toward the house, she waited for the warm rush of anticipation and relief she invariably felt caressing her tired muscles whenever home was near.
Instead, she felt her muscles slowly, inexorably tightening in that same painful way that preceded her into the ICU where a terminally ill patient waited.
Yard lights splashed over her closed lids, rousing her. Above her head, the rain beat with a muffled fury on the steel roof, easing off only when Cassidy pulled into the covered shed where a half-dozen Lazy S vehicles were lined up in a tidy row.
“There’s an umbrella in the Rover,” she murmured, sitting up.
Cassidy nodded as he killed the engine. His jaw was tight, his posture stiff. “Sit still. I’ll get it.”
With one fluid movement, he freed himself from the seat belt and opened the door. Cold air rushed into the cab, accompanied by the familiar scents of sodden earth and horse dung. Behind her, she heard a muffled murmur of protest, followed by sounds of stirring.
“Are we home, Mommy?”
Karen was already smiling as she turned her face toward the back seat where Vicki was struggling with her seat belt. “Home safe and sound, sweet stuff.”
Vicki gave herself over to a huge yawn before asking “Where’s Daddy?”
“Right here, peanut.”
At the sound of Cassidy’s voice, Rags scrambled to his feet, his wide hindquarters wagging along with his tail as he jumped from the truck’s narrow passenger area. Stifling another yawn, Vicki started to follow, only to have Cassidy stop her.
“Hang on a minute. It’s nasty out there.”
Along with the umbrella, he’d fetched the old woolen lap rug Karen kept for emergencies. He gave the umbrella to Vicki and put the rug on top of the truck.
“Here, use this. Don’t want to ruin that new party dress, now, do we?”
“What about Rags?” she asked when the rambunctious dog took to running circles around her.
“Rags has his own coat,” Cassidy said as he opened the passenger’s door.
As Karen put her hand in his, a longing to rekindle their earlier brief moment of rare playfulness ran through her. Later, she told herself, when he’s not worried about the mare.
“Look, Daddy!” Vicki exclaimed, pointing toward the long, low building made of rock and situated a good twenty yards from the shed. “The lights are on
in the foaling barn. Goldie must be having her baby. Hurry, Daddy, before we’re too late.”
“Now, Vick, it’s been a long day for you and—”
“You promised!”
Karen felt the sigh rumble through his chest and hid a smile. For all his steely control and unquestioned command over his men—and himself—he invariably melted when Vicki worked her feminine wiles.
“Okay, but just for a few minutes.”
“I can get myself out,” Karen assured them both. “You two go ahead to the barn and hold Goldie’s hoof.”
“Oh Mommy,” Vicki muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Hang on, Vick,” her father ordered. “Give me a minute to help your mom before you go running off.”
“But, Daddy, Goldie needs me,” Vicki protested, struggling to open the umbrella.
“She’ll still be needing you two minutes from now.”
“I’m fine, Cassidy,” Karen assured him, her hand still in his.
Pointedly, he dropped his gaze to the Italian stilettos she’d bought on a whim. In retrospect, it seemed foolish to have worn them on such a night, but—“Ooph.” Sensation jolted through her as he suddenly scooped her into his arms. She quickly circled his neck with her arms and held on tight.
“Best run before that big black cloud lets go, peanut.”
“C’mon, Rags,” she shouted before charging full tilt toward the shed, Rags barking excitedly as he raced ahead.
“Here, put this over your head,” he ordered as he reached out one hand to grab the tattered blanket from the top of the cab.
“Don’t let her see something that will hurt her,” Karen said, wrinkling her nose at the woolen cloth’s musty smell. “She loves Golden Girl very much.”
He said nothing as he carried her through the now-driving rain to the back porch. After climbing the steps, he set her down carefully, then stepped back. “Don’t wait up. I figure to spend most of the night getting this little one born.”
Karen mourned the loss of his body against hers almost as much as she missed the easy warmth that had flowed for a few precious moments outside the exhibition hall.
“Why don’t I make a pot of coffee and bring it out to you,” she said quickly before he could turn away.
Something flickered in his eyes, but they were too dark to read. “Don’t bother. We have our own pot out there.”
The rain pounded mercilessly against the porch roof, showing little sign of stopping, as he turned and headed back the way he’d come.
* * *
Karen had just finished removing her makeup and was drying her face when she heard Vicki calling her. “In the bathroom, sweetie,” she called back.
After folding the towel, she hung it on the rack, then switched off the light and returned to her bedroom a moment before Vicki came rushing in, her small chest heaving violently. Karen started to smile, then realized that Vicki’s face was gray and her eyes bright with anguish.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” she cried anxiously. “Has something happened to Golden Girl?”
“Oh, Mommy, I’m so afraid.” Vicki ran into her mother’s arms, her face pressed to Karen’s midriff. Raindrops glistened like tears on the little girl’s shaking shoulders and the hem of her new dress was torn and muddy.
“Shh, it’s okay,” she murmured, hugging her daughter close. “Take a deep breath and calm down.”
Vicki’s small body trembled violently, and her thin arms tightened around Karen’s waist like a small vise. Bits of straw clung to her braids and she smelled of horses.
Karen pictured her child trying to get her small arms around her horse’s strong neck in an instinctive gesture of love and comfort. From her infancy on, Vicki had been a hugger, like her mom.
“She’s dying.” Vicki choked on the words and had to take a breath.
“How do you know?” Karen prodded gently. “Perhaps it just looks that way.”
Vicki shook her head, spattering Karen’s robe with raindrops. “I heard Daddy talking to the vet on the phone in the barn, and he told him to hurry or we might lose the foal, too.”
“Oh, no,” Karen murmured, tears springing to her eyes. Golden Girl was a beautiful animal, but more important, she had a loving heart and a sweet disposition. Karen never worried about Vicki’s safety when she was astride her beloved Goldie.
“Sweetheart, maybe it’s not as bad as you think,” she soothed, praying she was telling the truth. “Doc Caine is a wonderful vet. Remember, he saved Rags when he was bitten by a rattler.”
Vicki’s head moved in a weak nod. “Daddy made me come inside,” she cried, her voice muffled by the thick material of Karen’s robe. “He said Goldie was hurting too bad for me to watch.”
If it would hurt Vicki, it would hurt Cassidy more, Karen realized sadly. Not only because he hated to see an animal suffer, but also because he’d allowed Vicki to help him raise the mare from a filly. She’d been there when he’d soothed and petted the skittish three-year-old into letting him slip a saddle onto her back. And she’d been there when Cassidy had ridden Golden Girl for the first time.
Vicki had never lost a pet before. Cassidy’s animals tended to thrive, especially the horses. Even the ones that had suffered serious injury received such diligent care that they invariably survived.
Once Cassidy had given his protection, it became a sacred trust. A point of honor. Her instincts told her that he would die rather than betray that trust. It frightened her sometimes, even as it did give her a sense of absolute security.
“Honey, I know this is rough for you to handle,” she said in the quiet way she often used with the distraught relatives of dying patients, “but I think the best thing you could do now is go on to bed and get a good night’s sleep. If Doc Caine does save Goldie and the foal, you’ll need all your strength in order to help Billy take care of her.”
“But I want to be with her!” Vicki cried, lifting her head and looking up. “I promised her I’d be with her when it was her time.” She lifted a hand to dash away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “I promised! And Daddy says promises are sacred.”
Karen took a careful breath. Why did children always think in black and white when so much of life was played out in shades of gray?
“Daddy’s right about promises being sacred, sweetie, but this is a special case.”
“No, it’s not! Goldie expects me to be with her.”
Karen led the little girl to the bed and sat down, facing her. “Vicki, I remember when I was in labor with you. Grandma had promised to be with me then, just the way you promised Goldie. But when the time came, I was so busy doing what I needed to do to get you born I didn’t have time to pay attention to anything else. It’s like that with Goldie now.”
Vicki bit her lip, her face so pale the freckles dotting her nose stood out like bright specks of gold dust. “If you promise me she won’t die, then I’ll go to bed.”
Karen gently tidied Vicki’s shiny bangs, allowing her hand to linger in a caress the way Cassidy sometimes did. “I can’t make you a promise like that, sweetie. I wish I could.”
Confusion settled in Vicki’s innocent brown eyes. “You’re a doctor. Maybe you could help Goldie with the birthing.”
“I’m not that kind of a doctor. Besides, Doc Caine knows what he’s doing.”
As though summoned by her words, she heard the crunch of tires on gravel. “There he is now,” she said. “Goldie’s in good hands, the best.”
“Doc Caine’s?”
“And Daddy’s. If anyone can keep Goldie alive and fighting, it’s Daddy. Right?”
Vicki blinked, then nodded. Her absolute trust in her father was heartbreakingly touching.
Karen felt a wave of anguish when she realized just how hard it would be for their child if she and Cassidy were ever to separate.
Chapter Six
Cassidy Sloane stood by the wide double doors of the foaling shed and watched the taillights of Dr. Paul Caine’s pickup disappear into a wall of r
ain.
The pastures would be soup, he thought, turning toward the light and the chores that still needed doing. The sudden motion sent a wave of dizziness sweeping over him, and he staggered. Reaching out a hand, he steadied himself against the barn’s rough exterior.
Pain shot up his shoulder, a reminder of the agonizing, long hours he’d spent fighting the dying mare’s spasming muscles, trying to turn the foal before its delicate bones were crushed. In the end it hadn’t mattered.
Golden Girl was gone. And so was her foal.
“Boss, you feelin’ okay?” Billy and one of the younger hands who’d been helping stepped quickly to his side.
Cassidy offered his ramrod a curt nod. “Just catchin’ my breath before I finish cleaning up.”
“Why don’t you go on in and let me’n Randall here do the cleanin’?” Billy suggested, pulling a cigar from the pocket of his filthy shirt.
It was tempting, but Cassidy made himself refuse. Instead, he stepped away from the wall and took a testing breath. The dizziness was gone. In its place was a heavy lethargy that was almost as bad.
“You go on home, the both of you. I already owe you enough overtime to damn near bust me.”
“Hell, boss, I’m already into you for two months’ advance,” Billy drawled, striking a wooden match on the wall behind him. “Don’t make me no never mind if you pay me extra for tonight, anyway,” he said between puffs as he fired his smoke to life.
“Me, neither,” Whitehorse added, sweeping off his Stetson with a weary hand. “Got me no place to spend my money nohow.”
Billy snorted. “The hell you say. I thought you had plans to escort Wanda June to some big dance at the high school next month.”
“She got herself in a tangle over me wearing this fancy tuxedo.” The young cowboy flexed his shoulders as though trying to shuck off the very idea. “When I told her I’d rather be shut up in a ten-foot corral with a Brahma stud than put on sissy duds, she up and told me to get lost.”
Billy exchanged a wry look with Cassidy, who suspected his men were deliberately ragging each other in an attempt to take his mind off the mess inside. He ground his teeth. Even after years of trying, he’d never quite conquered the queasiness that invariably followed the sight of blood.
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