by Sylvie Kurtz
Her heart pounded and pounded until finally her muddled mind realized the noise was coming not from inside her chest but from the kitchen door.
Blinking madly, she sprang out of bed and fell to one knee. Something was wrong. The horses. She had to get to the horses. Swearing, she reached for clothes and hobbled into them as she made her way across the room.
Kevin stood on the other side of the kitchen door.
“Who’s hurt?” she asked breathlessly.
“The horses are fine.”
The brightness of the day hit her like a slap. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“Nine!” She’d slept in? She never slept in. After losing so many years, sleep seemed like such a waste. She rarely got more than five hours of rest on any given night. “My God, the horses were expecting food at six!”
She tried to push past him, but he stopped her. His fingers were warm and strong against her wrist. The molten effect to her blood shot up her arm. She backed out of his hold.
“I fed them.” Shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, he jerked his chin toward the front gate. “There’s a blue van, a truck and a sheriff’s car at the gate wanting to come in.”
She walked to the edge of the porch and craned her neck around the corner. A hand over her mouth, she gasped. “It’s Bancroft and Chance.”
Bancroft was going to take her horses away and Chance was going to let him. She’d trusted Chance. How could he betray her like that? For half a minute, she was glad Kevin was on her side. Then one look at the painful frown on his face and her heart sank anchor-heavy to her heels. Could she trust him? Could she trust anybody?
Bancroft leaned on the horn impatiently.
“Want me to let them in?”
“No,” she said, and turned back to the house. She wasn’t going to let them see how shaken she was. She’d brush her hair, get her boots on and meet them face-to-face. If they thought they’d be able to just walk over her, they were in for a surprise. The horses might not be able to speak, but she would give them voice. She wasn’t letting these horses go—not until they were healed. “Let them get their boots muddy.”
Chapter Four
Before going out to meet her enemies, Ellen made a quick call to her vet, Dr. Lamar Parnell. At least she was certain he’d put the horses’ welfare above influence.
By the time she got back outside, Kevin had vanished. Four men and one woman were making their way to the top of the driveway. Bancroft had brought a lot of support this time. Her insides quivered. She felt eggshell fragile, but she’d have to be diamond tough for the horses. She straightened her spine and faced them head-on.
The horses depended on her.
She was ready.
She recognized Chance at the head of the pack. The uniform made this an official visit and she wasn’t sure how she felt about his betrayal. She glanced away before their gazes could meet and studied the rest of the posse closing in on her.
She silently sneered. All that was missing was the dire music, the side arm and the high-noon sun, and she would be in the middle of a bad western.
The man holding the vet bag looked ill. His drawn features were painful to watch. He appeared to be in his early forties, but walked as if he were three times that old and twice as tired. His shoulders bowed under some invisible weight. His dark hair lacked a healthy luster. His blue eyes reflected no light. The khaki pants and double B logo-branded polo shirt he wore were clean but wrinkled.
Double B bought and paid for. No impartiality there.
The other man carried a leather portfolio. His study of her ranch measured and weighed. Did he find anything lacking? His silver hair, silver eyes and silver mustache lent him a dignified air. His bearing was that of a man accustomed to having his words heard and obeyed. Yet he had the loose-limbed gait of a walker. Golf perhaps?
How many deals had the judge sealed on the back nine of some country-club course?
She’d never met Bancroft, but anyone who lived around these parts knew who he was. At fifty, he looked like the beef that was his main business—a square, well-fed body on a heavy frame and a gait that seemed to shake the ground as he walked. Gold adorned his belt buckle, the cuffs of his starched white shirt and his wrist in the form of a dazzling watch that winked in the sun.
He didn’t look pleased at the inconvenience of transporting his own weight.
The woman hanging on to his arm was the trophy wife personified. She was twenty years her escort’s junior—at least. Looking at her, the first word that came to mind was pampered. Her makeup was china-doll faultless. Her features were soft and exotic. Not one hair was out of place in her sleek espresso-colored ponytail. Her choice of clothing exposed a vast amount of toned and tanned flesh. And there was something just as hard about her dark eyes. Only the garish locket at her throat marred the image of total perfection.
“What’s going on?” Ellen asked Chance when they all came to a halt.
Before he could answer, Bancroft shuffled forward. “I’ve come to collect what’s mine.” He shot one thumb toward the woman. “This here’s my wife, Tessa. She raised these horses and knows them inside out. She knows what’s best for them.”
Raised the horses? Ellen silently scoffed. No horsewoman in her right mind would have worn open-toed sandals, a white skirt and a silk camisole to a stable. She was willing to bet Tessa Bancroft had never sat a horse in her life. Or touched one, for that matter. More likely she gave the orders and someone else did the dirty work.
“Naturally, Bradley wants what’s best for the horses, so we’ve brought our vet along to examine them.” Her voice had a musical lilt. Her smile was wide and warm, but failed to engage her eyes. “If you’ll show us to them…”
Chance stepped in. “The way it works is that Dr. Warner will examine the horses and give his oral report to Judge Dalton.”
Ellen crossed her arms in front of her. “That seems a bit biased.”
“Judge Dalton has the final say and he’s a fair man,” Chance assured her.
“Fine.” At least Chance had kept his promise and brought the judge. She couldn’t keep the proceeding from happening, but she could keep it on an even footing. “Then let’s give Judge Dalton a rounded view. Dr. Parnell is on his way.”
Before any of them could speak, she spun on her heels and headed toward the barn. Blinking madly, she willed her eyes to focus. She wouldn’t let the horses go without a fight.
Kevin had anticipated the need to catch Apollo. She saw him heading toward the back of the pasture with a halter and a lead rope. He was doing his best to fade into the background, yet his brief appearances seemed to make the point to her visitors that she wasn’t alone to bear the burden of running the ranch.
Just as Chance had predicted.
Kevin had put Blue in the last stall and the dog didn’t seem too happy about it. His rusty attempts at barking were pitiful. For once, she wished Kevin wasn’t so efficient. She had a feeling Blue would have enjoyed getting a taste of the backside of Bancroft’s perfectly pressed trousers.
“The ligaments in Titan’s stifle were damaged in the accident,” Ellen said as the group reached the first stall. “He can’t bend the joint due to the inflammation. He can’t walk. I’ve been giving him daily massages along with the anti-inflammatory medicine, but he may still require surgery.”
“Why don’t we let the doctor tell us what we need to know, little lady?”
Bancroft’s condescending smile had her aching to wipe it off his face. Her hands fisted. Keeping them at her side took a great deal of restraint. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. She blinked them away.
“I’ll allow the care keeper’s opinion,” the judge said as he slid glasses onto his nose.
Well, the judge may be unbiased after all. A touch of relief melted part of her tension.
Dr. Warner went from horse to horse, making monotone pronouncements. Bancroft and his wife followed, downplaying each injury. Judge Dalton took
notes and asked surprisingly insightful questions.
Chance sidled up to Ellen, who was keeping close enough to the group to come to the horses’ aid and make the occasional comment.
“Who’s the hired hand?” he asked.
“You wanted me to hire someone, so I did.” She kept her gaze fixed on Dr. Warner. Grudgingly, she had to admit he handled the horses, if not with genuine care then at least with respect toward their injuries.
“I meant someone local.”
“Someone you could trust?” She was drawing the line at how much control Chance—or anyone—could exert over her affairs.
He ignored the question. “Where’d you find him?”
“Taryn sent him.”
“Taryn?” Chance asked.
“She didn’t mention him?” Now that was interesting. These two rarely kept anything from each other.
He shook his head.
“She said he reminded her of you.” Ellen slanted him a sidelong glance.
“She did?” His forehead wrinkled. “So what do you know about him?”
“His references check out.” She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and extracted the references Kevin had given her. “Kevin Ransom. He’s from Colorado.”
Chance grunted and took the sheet of paper from her.
“He’s good with horses.”
Chance’s gaze tracked Kevin as he reappeared with Apollo. “I don’t like seeing you out here all alone with a stranger.”
Ellen shrugged. “It was your idea.”
“I’ll check him out.”
She almost smiled. She felt sorry for Taryn. Her friend would undoubtedly undergo an interrogation over lunch. “You won’t find anything.”
“How can you be so sure?”
She couldn’t, of course, but there was something about Kevin that spoke of quiet strength and integrity. The horses trusted him. The dog trusted him. Taryn trusted him. Either he was solid or the best con man that ever lived.
She looked at Kevin’s firm back as he held Apollo for the vet. His T-shirt outlined powerful muscles. He could easily bully a horse into submission, but he always asked for willing cooperation—and got it, as well as trust. Without saying a word, he held Apollo’s attention, distracting the horse from the vet’s examination. When he gently drew his knuckles across the horse’s muzzle, a warm shiver snaked down to her belly. She shrugged away the feeling of déjà vu and shifted her attention to Chance.
“Because the horses come first.”
Chance looked at Kevin, then back at her. He refolded the sheet and put it in his breast pocket. “I want you to call in every day.”
“Chance—”
“For my peace of mind, okay?”
She smiled. “If I talk to Taryn, does that count?”
He rolled his eyes. “Try to keep a lookout for someone and that’s the thanks I get.” His face grew serious. “Taryn would never forgive me if something happened to you.”
“Thanks,” Ellen said. “You’re both good friends.”
He waved her comment away.
“No, I mean it. I appreciate your friendship.” She dragged the toe of her boot in a little pile of spilled hay. “When I saw you coming up that driveway with Bancroft, I thought you were here to enforce his will.”
“Ellen—”
“I should have known better. You kept your promise. That means a lot.”
Just as Dr. Warner was finishing his examinations, Dr. Parnell arrived. Ellen blew out a pent-up breath. The gnomelike figure duckwalking into the barn exuded warmth and cheer, and his presence never failed to reassure her.
“Am I too late?” he whispered. His peppermint-scented breath tickled her nose.
“Just in time.” She led Dr. Parnell to the group assembled by Apollo. “Judge Dalton, this is Dr. Lamar Parnell. He can give you a history of the horses’ injuries and care since they arrived here.”
Dr. Parnell reached for the thick file lodged under his arm. He went over each horse’s injuries and gave an update as to his opinion of their state of health. His genuine love for the animals came through with each word he uttered. “I’ve brought copies for your own files.”
He handed the judge a stack of photocopies and winked at Ellen. If strangers weren’t invading her barn, she might have kissed him. For the first time since she’d seen Bancroft’s van, she felt a twinge of hope.
Bancroft puffed up his chest. “Well, we’ve seen them all, and everyone and their brother’s given their opinion. Let’s start loadin’.” He skewered Ellen with his gaze. “You’ll need to open the front gate so we can get the van up here.”
“The judge hasn’t passed his ruling,” Chance reminded Bancroft.
“What’s to rule on? Sure they’re all a bit sore, but nothin’ that prevents them from bein’ hauled.”
Ellen’s body vibrated with rage. Colors faded. Shapes blurred. Emotions won’t impress the judge. Stick to the facts. She forced herself to speak calmly. “Titan is standing on three legs. Hercules has a fractured cannon bone in his foreleg. Perseus’s shoulder injury impairs his mobility. Pandora’s hip was bruised and cut. She can barely walk. Calliope’s windpipe was crushed and her front feet were damaged. And Apollo’s back leg is still swollen. None of them can balance themselves properly in the van.”
“If the driver goes slow, they should all do fine,” Dr. Warner said. There was no inflection in his voice.
“Even slow speeds require a balance that none of these horses can handle without stressing them further,” Dr. Parnell countered.
“The red horse seems to move freely,” the judge said.
Ellen went to stand next to Apollo’s head and rubbed his muzzle. Her hand bumped against Kevin’s fingers and she drew a bit of comfort from their strength. “It wouldn’t take much to reopen the stitches, and the swelling impairs his ability to move and balance.”
“The one with the hip…” The judge thrust his chin toward the bay mare looking at them over a stall’s Dutch door.
“Pandora.”
“She seems to move easily, too.”
“She’s limping.” As if to prove her a liar, Pandora chose that moment to wander to the other end of her stall in search of the hay net. Only a trained eye could see the hint of pain as she moved.
“It’s not like they’re ever goin’ to race again,” Bancroft scoffed.
“They still deserve to heal before they’re transported,” Dr. Parnell insisted.
“Do you know where they’re headed?” Bancroft asked. His wife touched his arm with her blood-red fingernails and gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head.
“Where?” Ellen blasted the tremor in her voice.
“It doesn’t matter. They’re mine and I want them back. The law’s on my side.” He sounded like a spoilt child.
The judge ignored them as he made one more visit to each of the horses, then wandered outside to look at the pasture. Scribbling notes, he returned to the group standing awkwardly by the front door of the barn.
“The sheriff tells me there was an incident here yesterday,” the judge said.
“It wasn’t an incident,” Ellen said. “Someone deliberately planted garbage-filled bags in my pasture.”
Bancroft’s jaw quivered. “Are you implyin’—”
“I’m not implying anything. I’m saying it straight out. After I sent your errand boy away, you sent him back with a message—”
“I don’t need to play games. I’ve got the law on my side.”
“That’s enough,” the judge said. “In my opinion, the horse named Apollo and the horse named Pandora are fit enough to travel. Mr. Bancroft may transport them today. The rest still require additional care before they are fit enough to travel. They shall remain in Ms. Paxton’s care.” He looked at Kevin. “I understand you’re a recent hire. How long will you be staying?”
“As long as Ms. Paxton needs me.”
After consulting with both vets, the judge added, “I’ll return in two weeks and
look at the remaining four horses again.”
Bancroft’s jowls quaked. “Now, you just hang on a minute. These horses are mine—”
“They’re unfit to travel,” Ellen said.
“Oh, for cryin’ out loud, they’re headed to slaughter! What does it matter what shape they’re in?”
Ellen gasped and recoiled. He planned on killing these beautiful animals? “They’ve still got a long, healthy life ahead of them. Why would you do that?”
“They’re useless as racing stock.” Tessa Bancroft gave an apologetic smile.
“So you’re going to kill them? Why don’t you sell them to someone who’s willing to turn them into saddle horses? There are plenty of people who would buy and retrain them.”
“Ms. Paxton.” Bancroft’s face was jerky tough. His gaze was whip sharp. His tone of voice took condescension to new lows. “They’re my stock and I can damn well do as I please with them.”
“That—”
“Whatever their fate,” the judge interrupted, “they have the right to protection against needless suffering. Apollo and Pandora may be transported. The other four will stay.”
“Since we’ll be disposing of them,” Tessa said sweetly, “can’t Dr. Warner simply put them down here? They are, after all, our animals.”
“That would require a legal argument before the court.” Judge Dalton closed his portfolio and removed his glasses. “By the time the case could get scheduled, the horses would more than likely have healed. Waiting out the two weeks would be simpler for all concerned.”
“This is ridiculous,” Bancroft bellowed.
“The judge is right, sugar.” Tessa reached for her husband’s arm, but he ignored her.
He shook a finger in the judge’s face. “You’re goin’ to be sorry you messed with me.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Take it any way you like.” Bancroft zeroed in on Ellen. She took half a step back and bumped into Kevin, who steadied her. “Open the front gate.”
Bancroft stomped outside.
She reached for the remote in the tack room. Her gaze connected with Kevin. He was petting Apollo, but he focused his attention on her. She had the ridiculous urge to nestle her head against his shoulder and receive some of the same comfort he gave the horse. Impossible, of course. Regret trickled through her.