Fake Fiance, Real Revenge: A Three River Ranch Novel (Entangled Bliss)

by Snopek, Roxanne

  “Bree? It’s okay.”

  “Shh.” She sniffed.

  “It’s no one’s fault.” He’d only said it to stop her from crying, but he was startled to realize that he believed it. He tried to look at her face, but she gripped him tighter, keeping her head down, her cheek against his heart where he felt the warm wetness of tears.

  “Just hold me, Mitch, please?” she whispered, haltingly. “I…I need to remember when we were happy. We were, weren’t we?”

  He cupped the nape of her neck, breathing in the scent of her hair. “Yeah, baby. We were. We were kids, stupid, thoughtless kids, but we loved each other.”

  Gradually he felt her relax against him. Her shuddering tears slowed, her breath evened out. Tension that he hadn’t been aware of loosened in his shoulders and back. Maybe this was their chance to finally put a ragged chapter to rest.

  For a moment, the tension faded away, pushed out by almost-forgotten comforts: the sounds of honest celebration by people who wanted nothing from him; a million stars overhead, the same stars he’d gazed at as a boy; the smell of well-worked soil and homegrown, not hothouse, flowers.

  Her familiar body next to his.

  “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for being here.”

  After all these years, she could still make him feel worthy. Necessary.

  “I had to let you go, Mitch,” she whispered, her lips moving against his shirt.

  It didn’t matter, he thought. Whatever she did or didn’t do, it didn’t matter. He’d forgiven her long ago. He’d always love her.

  She huddled against him and he let the moment take him, her soft murmurs soothing, healing.

  I just had to give you a chance to be free.

  Had she said the words or had he imagined them? It felt like a dream, her words leading him down old corridors of memory that were now new, brighter, different yet still familiar. They explored the misty hallways together, hand in hand, searching for something. No fear or dread, just looking for a path that they knew was there somewhere but they couldn’t see at the moment.

  Much later that night, he replayed the conversation as he drifted into sleep. The last whispered words he heard sliced and healed at the same time.

  “I wanted our baby, Mitch. But I lost it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Good news, Mitch. We’re extending our stay.” Della glanced at Rory over the breakfast table. “If it’s all right with you and Carson, of course.”

  “The guesthouse is yours for as long as you want it,” Rory said. “Bliss will complain, but between you and me? She’s loving having someone new to cook for.” Suspicious giggling came from the other room and Rory got up to investigate. “Lulu’s learned how to take off her own diapers. Nobody wants that.”

  Della made her announcement casually, between sips of coffee, as she turned pages in the Lutherton weekly newspaper, but Mitch knew it meant her plan was coming together. A sudden coldness churned in Mitch’s stomach but he forced himself to nod and smile. He had to stop her.

  “Mitch?” she said, eyeing him craftily. “You don’t mind, do you? Staying a little longer to help me out? Surely you’ve come too far to back out now.”

  He breathed in through his nose slowly, then let it out. She wanted him to react. She knew he was furious about her change in plans. He suspected she’d even guessed the truth about him and Sabrina. Whatever. He refused to let her win.

  “Guess I’m a typical male,” he said finally. “Not good with spontaneous agenda changes.”

  “You could say that again! Hidebound, just like your brother,” Rory called from the other room. She came back in wiping her hands on a kitchen towel. “And naturally, Mitch, we can’t wait until you’re here permanently. But Della, tell us more about your decision. What brought this on? Don’t you have obligations pulling you back to Seattle? Friends and family?”

  Della snorted. “Seattle bankers can keep on making my accounts bigger without me. And the foundations I contribute to will get their money whether I’m there in person or not. Society prefers not, in fact, so everyone’s happy.” Her voice softened. “Especially Paris.”

  Mitch forced his hands flat against his thighs. Had she really gone through with it, then? She was really buying Hard Tack?

  The phone rang and Rory left to answer it.

  “So what’s the plan, Della?” He reached for his coffee, took a sip. Cold.

  “It’s a done deal. I’m just waiting for Harding to formally accept.”

  “Shh!” He jerked his head toward the other room. No one else needed to know until it was absolutely necessary.

  “You can still be in on it.” Della’s face was wreathed with snakelike satisfaction, her eyes flat, challenging. “Granger-Ellis could build Paris a fine dude ranch. Make yourself a pocketful of money. Just what you always wanted.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Think about it, Mitch. I’m getting it for a song. Renovations in this market will be cheap, what with so many people out of work. You know your way around out here; you’ll be able to handle the entire project. You should be thrilled. Sabrina will be thrilled. You can get married now.”

  He poured a glass of water, forcing it past the stricture in his throat. Even after Della had first told him, he’d expected her to change her mind. He pictured her taking over a failing beach resort in California or one of the many vacation destinations along the Oregon coastline. Hell, she could have decided to build a hotel in Vancouver for all he knew.

  But this?

  A dude ranch? Next door to Three River Ranch?

  “It sounds great, Della.” He stood up, pasted a smile on his face. She didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make some calls.”

  Della reached over and slapped him on the back. “That’s my boy, Mitch. You were always my first choice. But I hope you don’t mind my playing with you a bit. This has been the most fun I’ve had in years!”

  Mitch excused himself and stumbled out of the house, just as Sabrina pulled up in her little Smart car.

  “Mitch?” she said. She closed the door and rushed to his side. “What’s the matter?”

  “Good news, baby,” he said loudly, in case Della’s bat-like hearing reached to the yard. “Granger-Ellis got the job. Isn’t that great?”

  He pulled her into a hard hug, pressing his lips to her ears. “Della’s buying Hard Tack. She’s staying indefinitely. Which means I’m staying indefinitely. Say something happy.”

  “Oh, Mitch, that’s wonderful!” She kissed him on the cheek. “Is she out of her mind? Now what do we do? I’m so happy! We can start planning our wedding!”

  “That’s enough. You’re going to get mixed up and yell the wrong thing,” Mitch hissed. He took a step back, knowing that whatever happened next, he and Sabrina needed to figure it out together, and they needed to do it without an audience. “Why don’t we saddle up and take a ride out to Hard Tack, just the two of us?”

  Sabrina flashed an incandescent smile at him. “Why not? We need to celebrate.” Without changing her expression, she dropped her voice to a whisper. “And then we need to talk.”

  …

  Sabrina had never seen anyone tack up a pair of horses so fast. Once Mitch was on Maya, he touched his heels to her flank and they were off, leaving her and Monty eating their dust. They pounded over the dry grass, the horses grunting and snorting with the joy of speed. Mitch looked like a man possessed, Sabrina thought. Or like a man with a demon on his tail.

  Finally he reined up, slowing Maya to a trot, then a fast walk, her ribs heaving. Sabrina let Monty find his spot beside them, bouncing to a rough halt before settling into a more normal pace.

  “Okay, wanna tell me what you’re running from?”

  “Man, oh man, Bree,” he said, panting hard. “I’m so sorry. This business thing with Della has turned into a nightmare. I’m going to figure it out, though. Don’t worry.”

  A tiny line of blood oozed
from a scratch on his neck. “You’re bleeding.” She reached into her pocket for a tissue. “You must have gotten caught by a branch.”

  She leaned over and pressed it against his neck. He was hot, his breath still coming fast, his pulse slamming beneath her fingertips.

  “God, Bree, I’ve made such a mess of everything.”

  He looked so miserable. Did she really want to make it worse?

  They walked the horses to the ridge that overlooked Hard Tack land, letting them all cool and catch their breath. The ranch was just as desolate in daylight as it was at night.

  “Why would she even want it?” he wondered aloud. “Who has so much money that she can buy a property like this on a whim?”

  “Gus Harding is on the verge of bankruptcy. Maybe he’ll see it as a blessing.”

  “She’s one cold woman. She will get it for pennies on the dollar.”

  They began making their way down the rocky slope, occasionally dislodging chunks of gravel that clattered and slipped ahead of them.

  A few cattle lifted their heads in the nearest pasture. Rusted barbed wire ran around the field, strung on rotting, listing posts.

  Mitch shook his head. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t lost them all, with that fence.” A dog barked halfheartedly from somewhere behind the outbuildings.

  “Is it a good idea to ride up unannounced?” Sabrina asked.

  The watch dog barked again, then boots sounded. Hailey’s voice, young and quavering rang through the silence. “Who’s out there? What do you want? I’ve got a gun.”

  Sabrina hauled on Monty’s reins. “Mitch!” she hissed. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hailey! It’s Mitch Granger. Are you okay?”

  Silence. Then more footsteps, and she stepped out from behind a faded barn. There was no gun, Sabrina noted with relief, but her hand rested on the collar of a dog that definitely looked loaded.

  “You with that awful woman who says she wants our ranch? We’re not letting her have it, you know. You can’t make us.”

  “Hailey, I just heard about Della’s plans.” Mitch urged the mare a few steps closer. “I’m sorry; I’ll make sure she doesn’t buy it. Okay?”

  “How are you going to do that?” The girl sounded as if she’d been crying.

  Instantly, Sabrina’s anxiety turned to compassion. “Hailey? Mitch is telling the truth.”

  The girl frowned. “Hey, you’re the midwife, right?”

  “Right.”

  “You a nurse too?”

  “I am.” Sabrina put a hand out to stop Mitch from moving ahead of her. “Why?”

  “It’s Dad.” Hailey’s voice hitched with a sob. “Tie your horses over there. This might take a while.”

  …

  Sabrina had defused the girl handily, Mitch thought with admiration. But as they followed her to a barn at the back of the property, he had a sinking feeling that the challenge was just beginning.

  Hailey turned her back to the barn door, holding the latch with both hands behind her, to keep them from going inside.

  “You need to understand,” she said, her voice shaking. “This isn’t him. He’s not like this. Not really.”

  “What’s going on here?” Mitch said. He reached past her for the door, but Sabrina put her hand on his arm.

  “Mitch.” She looked hard at him and he let his arm fall. “Okay, Hailey, tell us what you want us to do, okay, honey? It’s going to be all right.”

  Hailey’s thin shoulders slumped but she stepped away from the door and opened the latch. “No, it’s not. Nothing’s been the same since Mom died, and nothing is ever going to be all right again. I should have let you in the first time I called the sanctuary.”

  They followed her inside, feeling for the rough plank stall barriers to guide their way. “He bought a horse,” Hailey continued. “A mustang. From one of those auctions. He bought her for Mom, just before she died—I don’t know why. Now he’s trying to train her or something. I just wish he’d give up. But he keeps getting madder and madder.”

  As Mitch’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he saw where the girl was headed. A flash of movement in a stall at the back of the barn caught his attention, then he heard a muffled curse and the unmistakable sound of a horse’s hoof meeting brittle wood.

  “Daddy?”

  The activity in the stall ceased. Mitch stepped forward and the sight that met his eyes made his blood boil.

  Gus Harding stood leaning heavily against the supporting beam of a stall reeking of manure. A single bulb swung from the ceiling, throwing crazy shadows into the corners, belying the warmth and light outdoors.

  And even though it had been ten years since Mitch had spent any time with the wild mustangs his brother loved so passionately, he recognized one instantly when he saw it. And this one, braced on all fours, pressed against the back wall, was definitely wild. Definitely terrified. And, by the bones jutting from her dull, patchy coat, definitely starving.

  “Get outta my barn!” the man yelled. He pushed off the post and staggered in Mitch’s direction. “This is my ranch! My horse! No one’s taking it from me!”

  “Daddy,” Hailey said again. Tears ran down her face. “Daddy, these people just want to help. Come inside.”

  “Baby, get outta here. I gotta deal with this myself.” He pulled up an implement, holding it in front of him like a weapon. It was a pitchfork. Not a gun, but still a potentially deadly weapon.

  This day was going from bad to worse. But no way was Mitch leaving without getting both the kid and the horse out of this hellhole.

  …

  “Harding.” Mitch’s voice brooked no argument. “You need to listen to your daughter. We’re here to help.”

  Light from inside the barn outlined the man’s form, thick-bodied, round-shouldered, swaying slightly. Instantly Sabrina slipped into professional mode and began assessing him. He was altered, which could mean any number of things: injury, illness, or substance abuse. They moved nearer the barn door against which Harding leaned and then, even from the distance, Sabrina smelled alcohol. Okay, that was one piece of the puzzle. How long ago had his wife died, she wondered?

  She couldn’t remember. But that was undoubtedly another piece.

  A man in financial straits, devastated by loss, fueled by alcohol, and about to lose his home without a profit was definitely a ticking bomb situation. In his position, Harding was powerless against Della. And everyone knew who’d brought Della to the neighborhood.

  No wonder Mitch was torturing himself.

  Gus Harding stood poised in the doorway, his body language screaming imminent violence. Hailey huddled against the outer wall, silently weeping.

  Mitch took a step toward the man, his shoulders tight, his fists balled. Without thinking, Sabrina pushed ahead of him, moving quickly to the far side of the barn to draw Harding’s eye away from Mitch.

  “Beautiful cattle you’ve got out there, Mr. Harding,” she called, gesturing vaguely toward the fields outside the barn. “You must be a hard worker.”

  Harding swung his dull gaze toward her and stared. As did Mitch. She put one foot up on the bottom rail of the stall, hoping she looked casual. This called for a lighter touch, and she knew that was not going to be Mitch’s plan. Before he could jump in and ruin it, she went on. “Is that a mustang? I hear they can be a handful.”

  “Stupid nag,” the man slurred. “Needs to learn.”

  “That happens,” she responded. Her easy words belied the fear thudding in her chest. She eased her way nearer the man, keeping one hand lightly on the rough siding of the barn. “Sometimes they don’t work out.”

  Now that she was closer, Sabrina could see a side door.

  “I’ll handle him,” she hissed to Mitch, pointing to the exit. “You make sure the horse is okay.”

  He frowned at her for a moment, his jaw working, then slipped around the building.

  Sabrina walked slowly to Gus Harding, keeping her eyes open, despite the glare from the single bulb abov
e the door. The smell of horseflesh, booze, and sweat assailed her nostrils immediately, as well as something sharp and metallic. As she got closer, she saw blood smeared down the side of Harding’s face. He swiped at it, then looked at his hand in slow confusion.

  “You okay, Mr. Harding? We’re here to help.”

  She kept one hand on the building, scanning the doorway, her back to the open entrance. She couldn’t see Mitch, but now she could see the mare. Eyes rolling white, the animal tossed her head and pushed herself against the wall of the barn.

  “What are you doing here?” Harding yelled suddenly. “This is my horse.”

  The mare squealed and pressed herself farther into the corner.

  “I always wanted to live in a place like this,” she said, pretending his outburst hadn’t made her jump. Harding had to look away from the mare in order to keep an eye on her, and it seemed to confuse him. “I grew up in town. Always loved animals and horses. You’re a dad—you know how it is, right, Mr. Harding?”

  He grunted. Sabrina took that as a positive sign, focusing on getting him away from the barn, hoping the man wouldn’t remember the row of sharp tools and implements hanging on the wall. She pressed down the panic building inside her. The man was unstable, possibly dangerous. Who knew what he’d done to the horse? If there were other people in the house, had he hurt them, too?

  “It’s tough, making ends meet, raising a family.” She kept her voice slow and low, and kept moving so he would look at her. Harding’s attention was drifting back to the horse. She had to keep him focused on her. “Let’s go to the house, make some coffee. See if we can sort this out.”

  Sabrina reached out her hand. She could see him waver, blinking in fatigue and uncertainty. He hesitated. She almost had him.

  Then Mitch appeared, silhouetted by the harsh light. “Go sleep it off, Harding. I’m taking the horse.”

  “The hell you are.” Harding grabbed the pitchfork and lunged with surprising agility at Mitch, who vaulted over the rail, into the pen. The mare shrieked and wheeled into the opposite corner.

  “She’s mine,” Harding hollered. “This is all mine. You stay out of it.”