by Lauren Canan
She could still hear his laughter echoing through the house.
Ornery man.
Ten
Chance threw a saddle on the bay he’d ridden a couple of weeks before. He’d tried to call his CO to see if there had been any news on his pending medical decision. He’d had to leave a message and he didn’t like doing that. There was no telling when he would get the call. It could be days. He hated the idea of missing it. But he disliked sitting by a phone and waiting for it to ring even more. Dammit. He felt fine. He was ready to get back to the SEALs. He was ready to pick up his AK-47 and complete a mission. He needed the focus. He wanted a way to expel some of this pent-up energy that had him bouncing off the walls. He needed his team. They understood. Hell, they might be the only ones who could.
Wade and Cole were making him absolutely crazy. They wanted him working in the company and, Wade at least, wouldn’t drop it. The man had looked him right in the face and declared his intent to sell the ranch, knowing what it meant to Chance. And knowing there was probably little to nothing Chance could do to stop it without returning as a partner in the Masters Corporation.
He would like to get his hands on the books. Every question he’d asked about the ranch met a dead end. Wade talked in circles, something he was very good at doing. Were they hiding something? He was used to getting inside intel immediately, and this cat-and-mouse thing Wade had going was making him nuts. Obviously it was a ploy to try to make Chance conform. Good luck with that.
Regardless of how long he’d been away, he wasn’t some stranger facing Wade over a bargaining table. This wasn’t about a corporate takeover or the buying and selling of stocks or companies. It was about his life. And Wade was in line for an eye-opener if he thought he could coerce Chance into leaving the SEALs.
Securing the cinch, he exchanged the halter for a bridle, led the gelding out of the barn and climbed in the saddle. When Chance was younger, this was the way he’d dealt with all the crap he faced on a daily basis. People had their own idea of what the son of a billionaire should act like, talk like, be like. The toughest lesson had been the realization that because somebody said you were a friend, it didn’t necessarily mean shit. People always wanted something. Whether it was a claim of friendship, a favor or money, Chance Masters had quickly become the go-to guy.
Living up to the expectations of others was the worst. No one had been willing to accept him for who he was inside. Over the years it soured him until finally, he’d had enough and began to strike back. He would talk and act exactly as people around him expected. If someone wanted a car, hell, he’d help the person steal it. Who cared if they got caught? Certainly not his old man. If somebody dared him, he’d no longer brushed it off and walked away. Fights? Bring it on. Girls? There were two kinds. He’d learned the difference. The innocents, the girls like Holly’s sister, he’d given a wide berth. With the others he’d gained a reputation. Love ’em and leave ’em. He didn’t care. They used him, so he’d returned the favor. He’d been on a downhill spiral and only two things had saved his ass. The friendship of Jason Anderson and the lynching committee that had finally approached his father and demanded he do something about his son’s illicit behavior. He guessed the good citizens of Calico County had finally determined they cherished something more than money, so his father’s little payoffs—some called them bribes—had no longer worked.
Passing through the gate leading into the north range, Chance urged the bay into a slow canter. He knew this ranch like the back of his hand. And he knew how to disappear. Let his CO leave a message. Let his brothers find something better to do.
Holly was the one thing he hadn’t envisioned when he’d decided to return to the ranch for his mandatory medical leave. He’d known what his brothers would try to do. He’d come up with a plan of what he’d do if any of the old gang wanted a rematch. But he’d never seen Holly coming.
Keeping his hands to himself was a lesson in futility. No matter what he planned or what safeguards he put in place, when she came near he had to touch her. He had to hold her. He had to kiss her. And he wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that. Knowing she would let him because she thought she was in love with him only made it worse. He would soon be leaving, one way or the other, and had no plans to come back. If the MEB granted him active status, he would be on the first flight back to his team. If they didn’t, he had a couple of options, but returning to Texas wasn’t one of them. He’d had enough. Wade’s intentions to sell the ranch had pretty well, pretty effectively driven the stake into his back. And turned it.
Holly was raising a baby. Jason’s baby. That small family had already lost enough. Chance damn sure wouldn’t put himself in the situation of being responsible for any tiny life. Babies were too fragile. He’d already proved he could not protect a child. The thought had crossed his mind that maybe he could ask Holly to come with him. In how many languages could he say stupid idea? She had Jason’s daughter and had achieved a lifelong dream of opening a vet clinic. She was less than one year away from obtaining her doctor of veterinary medicine license. She was safe and happy, and no way would he screw that up.
Reaching the top of a small rise, Chance paused to get his bearings and just appreciate the view. The green of the land against the dark blue sky. How often had he wished he could be exactly here when instead he was stretched out on a roof in Pakistan with his sniper rifle, waiting for someone to come out of a house carrying a bomb? And praying it wouldn’t be a child.
Chance encouraged his horse to continue forward. A lone cow bellowed in the distance, somewhere a hawk found its meal and an American bald eagle circled overhead. In spite of the vague rumble of thunder in the distance, it couldn’t be a more perfect day.
The sound of rushing water and the smell of the river found his senses. Reining the bay to the right, he followed the riverbank. The one place he hadn’t visited in too long was his mom’s cottage. Heaven help Wade or Cole if anything had happened to it. It was a small house in the trees, sitting back from the river enough to ensure it never flooded. It was where she’d finally found some peace and maybe a small bit of happiness. It was where, when she’d given up on her husband ever coming home and simply loving her, she had spent the last six or seven years of her life. It was where Chance had found her, her thin body still in the rocking chair, a picture of his father clutched against her breast.
Chance had to wonder if Wade—or Cole—had ever seen their mother break down and openly weep because the man she loved never seemed to have time for her. Never gave her the same consideration he gave to a business associate. Chance damn sure had seen it. He’d sat with her while she’d wiped her tears on more than one occasion. Wade and Cole had been away at school. One time he’d sneaked a phone out of the house and called Wade, telling him their mother was not doing well. He didn’t know what else to say. When Wade finally did return home, his mother had hid her grief well and his eldest brother had looked at him as if he was crazy.
Did Wade never wonder why the little house had been built out here? Had he asked their mother why she’d moved out of the mansion to spend her remaining days on the earth in that cabin? A blanket of panic and misery had fallen over Chance when he’d realized his mother had finally given up. She’d given up on their father. She’d given up on life. She’d never confided in him, but he’d known. Somehow, he’d known. He actually couldn’t remember if their father had come to her funeral. Surely he had. But Chance didn’t recall seeing him there. Or in the house before or after the services. But then, Chance hadn’t looked very hard.
* * *
Holly sat by the pool, keeping an eye on Emma as she alternately played and begged to get out of her playpen. She wanted to shred the plants and Holly was having no part of it. She was glad to see Amanda’s car come up the long drive.
“Well, don’t you two ladies look like the privileged elite,” Amanda said as she climbed out
of her vehicle. She entered the gate and joined Holly, pulling up a padded lawn chair. “So what happened with the clinic?”
“We don’t know anything yet. The replacement equipment has been ordered and should be delivered today or tomorrow. Kevin is overseeing that. I know how to read a slide under a microscope, but how to connect a microscope to the computer is beyond me.”
“Well, look at it this way. You weren’t going to get any time off for a couple of years. You should make the best of it.”
Holly nodded. “You’re right.”
“And this—” Amanda held out her arms to indicate where they sat “—is not a bad way to start.”
Amanda was right. There was only one main ingredient missing.
“Hi, Emma.” Amanda stood and walked to the playpen, picking up the baby when she raised her arms.
“Don’t let her near the plants. She likes to pick them, which means she will shred every one of them.”
“You wouldn’t do that, would you, sweetie?”
“Do at.”
“Where’s the hunk this morning?” Amanda settled back with the baby perched on her lap. “I’ve been dying to ask how it’s been going.”
Before Holly could formulate an answer, one of the Masterses’ housekeeping staff called to her. “Ms. Anderson?” A tall, elderly man accompanied by a postal employee walked toward where they sat.
“Hey, Holly,” Joe Green said. “Chance has a certified letter from the US Department of Defense. Can you sign for it? Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“I don’t even know where he went.” Chance had already been gone when she’d woken up around eight o’clock. She hadn’t knocked on his door, but she felt relatively certain he would have made an appearance by now if he was still around the house. She’d assumed he was down at the barn.
“Commander Masters rode his horse out to see his mother’s house,” the butler said. “I will find someone to take the letter to him. It might be important.”
Holly sent a quick glance to Amanda and received a nod. She held her hand out for the electronic confirmation of receipt. “I’ll take it to him. I know about where his mother’s house is.”
“Sections of the road have flooded in the past. As I understand, even a Jeep can’t travel the old road that Mrs. Masters used to use.”
She nodded and looked at the white envelope in her hands. This was it. This had to be what Chance had been waiting for. A decision had been made as to whether he could return to active duty. She just knew it. Holly was suddenly bombarded with emotions that hit her from every direction. She’d known this was coming. She thought she’d steeled herself from feeling anything other than happy for Chance, but that tiny hole in her heart began to emerge.
She rose from the chair, the letter clutched tightly in her hand. Emma was still contentedly sitting on Amanda’s lap. She gave Emma a big hug and kiss.
“Thanks, Mandy.”
“This is it? He’s leaving?”
Holly glanced at the letter in her hand. “I have no way of knowing for sure, but that would be my guess.”
She ran into the house and changed into jeans and a clean shirt. Her heart was beating as though she’d run a marathon. She grabbed the letter and forced herself to smile as she passed through the flagstone courtyard and waved goodbye to Amanda and Emma. In the barn she went straight for Sin. She wanted a mount she could absolutely trust. Positioning the blanket on his strong back, she threw a Western saddle on top, quickly adjusting it before tightening the cinch. Rather than his eggbutt snaffle bit, she chose a Western headstall from the tack room. The sky was becoming dark and thunder rolled across the sky in the distance. She had no way of knowing what she would face. It was a long ride.
Swinging into the saddle, she headed to the gate that opened to the northern acres. Leaning forward, Sin took the cue and immediately set off in a canter, his dark gray mane and tail flying out behind him.
* * *
Chance sat on the front porch of the small cabin as the memories continued to wash over him. It had been so many years ago that he’d stood next to his mother watching as the house was built. He’d sensed something was wrong, but being just a kid he probably wouldn’t have understood it if she’d taken the time to explain it to him. His mother hadn’t lived for riches and social status. She’d lived for the love of her husband. And after waiting for years for him to return that love, she’d finally given up. Who was she to compete with the elation in his face when he had again succeeded in buying out yet another company, increasing both his reputation as a highly successful businessman and his wealth? In Chance’s father’s eyes, nothing could compare with that.
She’d brought to her new house only the things she’d brought into the marriage and not a lot else, other than pictures of her children and a few souvenirs of happier times. She’d loved art. Drawing and painting had been her passion and she was good. Sadly no one had ever seen her talent. Except Chance. He’d asked her once why she didn’t sell her paintings or display them in a gallery. He remembered her sad smile when she’d shrugged and said they were worth something only to those who appreciated art. “I paint them because I enjoy it, not to sell for money,” she’d said. It was years later he’d realized what she meant. They were not Rembrandts or painted by Michelangelo or da Vinci. So in his father’s eyes they had been worthless. The hours she’d spent painting was time forever lost.
The thunder rumbled overhead and Chance noticed the darkening sky. He’d better get back to the ranch. Maybe his commanding officer had returned his phone call. Hell, maybe he’d even called to give Chance some good news. And maybe pigs would start flying tomorrow.
He rose from the small chair and headed around to the back of the house where a small barn and corral had been built. The big bay nickered at him, a clear indication it was ready to go home.
Quickly saddling the horse, he mounted and headed south. He hadn’t gone far when the first drops of rain made a light tapping sound on the brim of his hat. Before he’d gone a mile the rain increased to a steady downpour. He took the gelding into a canter. Rain had never bothered him but the ground was beginning to move—a sure sign of flooding. Just ahead was the river. The water was running fast and rising. He considered the best place to cross and in that moment he saw something at the river’s edge some distance ahead. A gray horse was standing with its front feet in the river, pawing at something in front of him on the ground. As Chance got closer he saw it was a person.
He urged the bay into a flat-out run. The closer he got the more he felt fear. It was a feeling he’d not previously experienced, but there was no shaking it. And the closer he got the worse it grew. It was Holly. He was certain of it. She lay on her stomach, her head toward the rising water. What had happened? Was she alive?
He jumped from the saddle before the horse had a chance to come to a complete stop.
“Holly? Baby, can you hear me?” He knelt next to her on the soaked earth. When she didn’t answer, something close to panic gripped his throat. “Holly.”
He heard a small moan. Then remarkably, she moved her arm under her and attempted to push up.
“Take it easy, sweetheart,” he said. “Try not to move. Can you tell me where you’re hurt?”
His SEAL medical training kicked in, and thank goodness for that. Once he was sure she was relatively unharmed, he helped her sit up. She was groggy after apparently having the breath knocked out of her. Sin nickered and tried to push Chance out of the way. The rain was still coming down.
“Holly, we’ve got to get you to a dry place. I’m going to pick you up. Tell me if it hurts anywhere.” He saw her nod her head. As Chance drew her into his arms, she made no sound. But he wouldn’t know with any certainty if she was okay until he got her to his mother’s house, where he could check her more attentively. With Holly in his arms, he walked toward the geld
ing.
“Wait. The letter. Must find the letter.” She spoke in a whisper. It was hard to understand what she was saying. He felt her take a deep breath. “The letter. Chance, I won’t leave until I find the letter.”
What letter?
“Holly, this storm is building and about to kick our butts.”
She tried to push out of his arms. “Let me down. Chance, put me down. I’ve got to find the letter.”
He didn’t understand what could possibly so be so important that she would risk her life. But he set her on the ground.
“Just stay there, I’ll go look.” He walked back to the spot where he’d found her, and sure enough there was a white envelope half covered in mud. He picked it up, slung off most of the mud, folded it so that he could shove it into his back pants pocket, then he ran back to Holly.
“I found it. I’ve got the letter. Now let’s get you out of here.”
She nodded. “I can ride. I just got the breath knocked out of me when Sin fell coming up the side of the embankment. Is he all right?”
“He seems fine.”
When Chance didn’t move, she added, “I’m all right. Go. Get your horse.” She was now yelling to be heard over the wind and thunder. Chance lifted Holly onto the saddle. As he approached the bay, the lightning crackled overhead and the horse flinched and began to back up. Chance swung out his arms and managed to catch the reins. With a few calming words, he leaped into the saddle and maneuvered the horse toward Holly and Sin.
“You’re okay?”
She nodded.
“I don’t think we have time to make it back to the ranch,” Chance said. “I think we should head for Mom’s cabin. It’s not far from here.”
Holly nodded her agreement. “Lead the way.”
As soon as Chance cleared the tall, rocky uphill grade and reached level ground, he pulled his mount to a stop and waited for Holly and Sin to make it up the rocky hill from the river below.