And he'd been reminded of the way things had once been between them.
Then, fool that he was, he'd blown it.
"Kate, wait a minute." He caught up to her before she slid into the truck.
She paused at the open door. "Nathan and Merle are probably already waiting for us."
"So let them wait. We need to talk."
"We can talk while you're driving."
"No. Now. I want to explain --"
"Explain what, Chase?" she asked, using that special tone of hers, layering sarcasm over pleasant melody. "Why you ran out on me? You're more than a few years too late."
Though he'd hoped to get her to open up about what had happened with Sage, he'd known this showdown was inevitable. A matter of time.
"I didn't run out on you, but on the circumstances," he maintained, even knowing her accusation held a seed of truth. What had begun as a means for him to prove that he was as good as anyone, had ended up scaring him. "You know I had to leave town."
She stared at him open-mouthed before protesting, "I don't know that, Chase. Even if you felt that way, you could have told me. You could have said good-bye in person. You could have called me later. You could have written. You had any number of options... if you ever gave me a second thought!"
Her eyes shot green flames at him as they had each time he'd ticked her off. The memory of those eyes had haunted his dreams for years. But she didn't need to know that.
"I figured a clean break would be easiest."
Her spine stiffened and she seemed to grow another few inches. "Easiest for you," she said softly. "Yes, I'm sure it was. Coward."
Her contempt cutting through him, she slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door in his face. Chase figured he deserved that and more.
As he rounded the truck, Kate stared out the side window. He doubted she'd be inclined to do any more talking for the moment, not even about the horses. His not knowing exactly what she'd imagined seeing when touching Sage would eat at him until he got some answers.
Like... did her supposed vision reveal anything about what had been happening at the refuge...
BEFORE SHE COULD OFFER some pleasantry to lighten up the atmosphere, Chase interrupted. "I thought you wanted a look around."
"That's what I'm here for."
Pulling off his work gloves, he glanced up at the tractor. "Don't kill yourself trying to get this in today. Do what you can and stop when you need to. We'll get back to it first thing in the morning."
Merle's grudging "Right, boss" gave Kate the opposite notion.
Because Merle didn't want to work alone? Or because she objected to Kate's presence on the refuge?
They drove both vehicles back toward the visitors' center, but after crossing the creek, Chase turned west, leading her to a spot about a mile down the road where the creek curved and widened, and a couple of picnic benches and a gas grill sat beneath some leafy cottonwoods. He brought his truck to a stop and hopped out.
She did likewise, asking, "What is this place?"
"Annie brings tourists out here a couple of times a week for an overpriced grilled steak." He opened his tailgate. "Be right with you."
Kate sat at a picnic table and stared off at the red cliffs on the opposite side of the creek, automatically searching for horses. But the only movement that caught her eye came from the midst of a dust cloud to the west. She squinted against the sun. The billowing copper-tinted haze proved to be made by an approaching truck loaded with tourists. The clunky old vehicle passed out of sight, continuing in the direction of the visitor's center.
Buck Duran had been behind the wheel.
Though Kate had known he was working for the refuge, she could hardly believe he'd forgiven his brother Gil's death... or his own handicap. At the time, Buck had placed the blame for the accident square on Chase's shoulders. She guessed old wounds healed for some people... if not for her.
"Here's mud in your eye." Chase set a steaming mug of black coffee in front of her, followed by several pamphlets. "And information about the refuge."
He wanted her to read about the operation rather than see it for herself? She took a sip of coffee and ignored the pamphlets. Wondering why he was treating her like some stranger -- some interloper -- she said, "I thought I was going to get the personal treatment."
He quirked an eyebrow. "How personal do you want to make this?"
Unwilling to play some silly word game, she flatly said, "As in a tour."
"You lived in this country most of your life, so you know what it looks like."
"But the mustangs --"
"All pretty much like the ones we passed getting back here." Cutting her off, he claimed the bench opposite. "So what's on your mind, Kate?"
"I told you," she hedged, having a lot more on her mind than the horses. But it would be a cold day in hell before she related anything personal. "After the funeral, Nathan said the place could use my help. I know Doc would have wanted me to take over for him until you could hire someone."
Chase's laugh was humorless. "You may be stuck here forever, then. Or for as long as we can stay in business. We're squeaking by now," he said, confirming what Nathan had told her. "I'm having enough problems meeting the mortgage and payroll, such as it is. I can't even pay decent wages to the few people who aren't volunteers."
She couldn't help asking, "Does that include yourself?"
"I don't take a red cent... " His attention strayed to a point beyond her shoulder. ". . . not unless you count room and board."
Not having expected such generosity on his part, she wasn't quite certain she believed it, either. Involved in fundraising for the refuge, he surely had an expense account that paid for his other needs. Otherwise, he'd have to be either crazy or the most selfless man she'd ever met.
"So why do you do it then?" she asked, trying to keep an open mind.
"That's why."
Kate followed his line of sight to where a handful of mustangs loped along the ridge. Imagining she could hear the natural rhythms of their unshod hooves beating against the earth... their collective breaths blowing and snorting against the breeze... she was enveloped by a heady and unfamiliar sensation.
"Tell me what exactly you want to know about the refuge," Chase was saying. "If you're really here to volunteer."
She whipped around to face him. "Why else would I bother stepping foot on this land?"
"I could think of a reason or two." He lifted his mug.
Meaning him?
A flush crawled up her neck at the unwelcome truth she'd buried beneath her rationalization. "Don't flatter yourself. I'm not a kid any more."
"I can see that."
He fixed his intense gaze on her mouth, making it go dry, making her want to lick her lips in the worst way. No doubt Chase would like that -- would get some perverse thrill out of knowing he could still get to her on a primal level -- so Kate determined she'd let her lips crack like dry desert earth before she gave him the satisfaction of wetting them.
"How big is the herd?" she asked.
"That information's in the brochures." He pushed them toward her.
And she continued to ignore them. "Does that mean you don't know?"
"Nearly five hundred."
Her eyes widened. Doc hadn't given her the specifics. "That many?"
"Intimidated?"
"You should remember I don't intimidate easy."
Silent for a moment, he seemed to be ruminating. Then he said, "I remember a lot of things," so softly that it made the hair on her arms stand straight up.
"Well, don't," she warned him.
They locked gazes. Nearly twenty years and she couldn't forget how badly he'd let her down when he'd skipped out on her. What did it matter that she'd been little more than a kid? She'd had a woman's feelings for him. He'd gone and gotten himself into big trouble, and then he'd run without so much as a fair-thee-well. He'd taken the trust she'd given him and had thrown it back in her face.
No letter. N
o phone message. Nothing.
That's what she hoped he would recall.
Gratified when he was the first to glance away, his expression uneasy, she figured he had. She had to admit to surprise at his reaction. Guilt? She would never have suspected he was capable of remorse.
He'd have to have a heart first.
Gazing out at the land, Chase said, "The refuge is eighteen thousand acres plus of harsh territory. Most of the herd is limited to the other side of the creek. Tourists occasionally get glimpses of a band like we just did, but they never get near the truly wild horses."
She heard the satisfaction in his tone, as if it were important to him that they stay as wild as possible. "So people pay to maybe see some horses from a distance?"
"They don't leave here disappointed. That would be bad business, wouldn't it," he said, the word business sounding like a dirty word coming from him. "I make sure the tourists get their mustang fix. We drive them out to the closer pastures where we keep the adopted horses. Nearly a hundred of them now that we have yearlings and foals."
She knew about the breeding from Doc, of course, but she hadn't questioned him too closely lest he get the wrong idea about her interest in the subject. "I thought there were too many wild horses to take care of already."
"A little policy change on my part. The mares that were part of the deal with the BLM have been barren for years and will stay that way," he clarified. "They were part of a sterility experiment using steroids. And the males were delivered gelded. But in addition, I've personally bought mares from the Adopt-A-Horse program for more than a dozen years -- starting back when this place was only a twinkle in my mind."
Mustangs continued to run free on federal land, Kate knew, and under protection of the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro Act their numbers had become problematic. She'd heard about whole herds dying from starvation or dehydration because of lack of vegetation or water. To keep their numbers in check, the federal government had initiated the Adopt-A-Horse program.
According to Doc, although now only young horses were gathered, during the first several years of the program, many of the animals culled from the bigger herds had been too old, too sick or too ugly for anyone to adopt. They'd ended up in federal feedlots where they would remain until they died. A handful of individuals and organizations decided to do something about the awful situation -- give the horses a better life for whatever time they had left -- because policy went against returning them to their natural ranges.
Doc had told her Chase was one of the handful. He'd founded a not-for-profit organization that was the official "owner" of Bitter Creek Mustang Refuge, so that at least some of the unadoptables would live out their remaining days in relative freedom.
Maybe Chase did have a heart, after all, she conceded. And he probably was crazy, too.
Hating that she had a reason to like him whether or not she wanted to, she said, "So you've been breeding the mustangs you yourself own."
"I brought in a prime stallion two years ago to service the girls," he agreed. "Hopefully, the offspring'll bring in a few thousand apiece -- enough money to make some difference around here."
Which meant that, in addition to not taking a salary, he was willing to kick in any money he could personally generate.
In an area where one could get a decent saddle horse for two or three hundred, a few thousand was way out of line, Kate knew. Undoubtedly Chase was counting on the sentimental value of someone's desire to own an American icon and thinking of the inflated price as being a well-spent contribution to a romantic cause.
"So what do you say?" he asked.
"About?"
"Vetting my horses."
His horses? She supposed they were.
"I'll make some time. Temporarily," she emphasized, not wanting him to think she was at his disposal. "You'll have to start looking for someone permanent to replace Doc."
He shrugged. "Right."
His too-casual response made her a little edgy. She didn't want to feel trapped in the situation. If Chase wouldn't actively look for a replacement, she could ask around herself. Maybe she could find a couple of vets willing to donate some of their time. That way, the whole burden wouldn't be on one person.
"So what do you need done first?" she asked.
"You free tomorrow afternoon?"
"I was going to move my things over to Doc's house -- um, I'll be staying there until Ellen sells -- but I guess there's no hurry." Not that she had a whole lot to move. When she'd returned to Bitter Creek, she'd left most of her possessions behind as she had her life in Sioux Falls. "Besides, I can bring over a few things at a time."
"If you ask real nice, I'll help."
Kate eyed Chase warily, searching for motive. But if he had one, he was keeping it close to his chest. Not that it mattered. Being alone with him in close quarters wouldn't be a smart move and she gave herself credit for having a modicum of native intelligence.
"If I need you, I'll whistle," she returned. And before he could get a response out of his open mouth, she added, "About tomorrow?"
"We should be done with the fencing by noon. Then we'll need to count noses."
"You think some of the herd strayed?"
"No telling. If you come along, you'll get your close-up tour of the property, and we can locate the band of mares Doc was treating for that virus."
"They're mixed in with the main herd?" she asked, immediately concerned.
"Afraid so. Doc said they were well on their way to recovery, though, so hopefully it's no problem. Even so, you should check them out. If you can get close enough."
"I can get close enough."
"Awfully sure of yourself."
"If you'll remember, I never had trouble communicating with animals."
"I thought that was a kid thing," he said, pulling a face, "like invisible companions."
"And I thought you knew me better than that."
Besides, though she now considered herself a kid when her heart had been broken, she actually had been fifteen -- a little old for invisible companions, and he knew it. At the time, she'd thought he'd believed her. Kate guessed he'd fooled her about a lot of things.
"Oh, Lord, spare me." He was shaking his head. "Now I've got to deal with a woman who talks to animals... "
Tightly, she returned, "And who listens when they talk back."
Though Chase lifted a questioning eyebrow, he said no more about the issue. He took a big swig of his coffee, which had to be cold by now. And then he started, his gaze narrowing on something in the distance. A scar above his right cheekbone whitened and the sound of the mug clanking against the table half-covered his vivid curse.
Wondering how he'd gotten the scar that just missed his eye, Kate whirled around to see what was bothering him. "What's wrong?" she asked, even while spotting the string of lathered horses in the distance.
"Damn Whit Spivey!" he muttered, jumping to his feet, his expression furious. "He ran them north of the creek again! Went downstream this time, probably thinking no one would ever know the difference."
"You're talking about a trail ride?"
He nodded curtly. "Taking visitors where he shouldn't be and bothering the horses so his customers'll have something to brag about to their friends." Moving away from the table, he added, "I suspect he purposely spooks the mustangs into an all out run... "
And Chase was running off on her, Kate realized. Again. While she stood staring after him like an idiot, he jogged toward his truck.
"Hey, wait a minute," she called after him, "are we through?" Obviously they were since he didn't respond. She yelled anyway. "What time tomorrow afternoon and where do we meet?"
But she might as well be questioning herself. Seeming to have forgotten all about her, Chase was already getting into his Bronco and starting the engine, his focus elsewhere.
Kate knew she shouldn't be surprised by his lack of manners. He'd never had any that she could remember. At least not with her. Irritation teetering on anger
, she watched him tear off in a cloud of dust.
Was it her, then, she wondered, or was it a habit with him... did he never say good-bye to anyone?
WHIT SPIVEY HAD BARELY DISMOUNTED when he spotted Chase Brody stalking toward the riding concession from the visitor's center, a storm cloud brewing over his brimmed hat. Having seen the black Bronco coming in nearly alongside his string, he knew what was what.
Not that he cared. Defying Brody had been worth the risk. His customers had been thrilled out of their minds to get an up close and personal view of wild horses kicking up their hooves. He spit out a chew of tobacco and raised his voice above their still-excited chatter.
"You folks whip them reins around the post a coupla times now, hear? We don't want no one wanderin' off." Then he signaled his assistant Teddy, a junior high kid whose butt he worked off for less than minimum wage, to take his own horse. "Make sure them animals is cooled down --"
"I know the drill, Mr. Spivey," Teddy said, braces showing as he grinned.
The kid led the horse off even as Brody skidded to a stop before him. "Spivey, I want to talk to you."
Though the refuge manager's expression was as foul as he'd ever seen it, Whit wasn't intimidated.
"Sure, chief." Considering how much cold cash he had in his pocket at the moment, he could afford to be affable. "Step into my office."
He indicated the rickety lean-to outside of the tack house, where he signed up customers for trail rides. Brody beat him there, then stood fuming. Whit took his time, dumping himself into his squeaky chair.
He tossed his hat onto a peg and smoothed down his thinning hair before asking, "What can I do for you?"
"You can start by explaining what you were doing north of the creek!"
Feigning innocence, Whit shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Just needed a change of scenery so my horses don't fall asleep on me. That was my fifth ride out today."
The increased traffic courtesy of the tragic stampede. At least Doc had been good for something.
The McKenna Legacy Trilogy Page 44