The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1

by Nora Roberts

  He didn’t need the fear and the fame any longer. It was enough that he knew.

  TWENTY-NINE

  S UMMERS IN MONTANA WERE SHORT AND FIERCE. AND August could be cruel. Sun baked the dirt and dried the trees to kindling and made men pray for rain.

  A match flicked the wrong way or a well-aimed bolt of lightning would turn pasture into fire, crops into tears.

  Willa sweated through her shirt as she surveyed a field of barley. “Hottest summer I remember.”

  Wood merely grunted. He spent most of his time scowling at the sky or worrying over his grain. His boys should have been there worrying with him, but he’d gotten tired of their spatting and sent them off to bother their mother.

  “Irrigation’s helping some.” He spat, as if that drop of moisture would make a difference. Mercy was both joy and worry to him, and had been for too many years to count. “Water table’s dead low. Couple more weeks of this, we’ll be in trouble.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it for me,” she said wearily, and remounted. “We’ll get through it.”

  He grunted again, shook his head at her as she rode off.

  The ground bounced heat back at her relentlessly. The cattle she passed stood slack-legged, with barely enough energy to swish tails. Not even the stingiest breeze stirred the grass.

  She saw a rig well out along a fence line, and the two men unrolling wire. Changing directions, she galloped out.

  “Ham, Billy.” She dismounted, walked over to the two-gallon jug in the bed of the rig, and poured herself a cup of icy water.

  “Ham says this ain’t hot, Will.” Sweating cheerfully, Billy strung wire. “He says he recollects when it was so hot it fried eggs still in their shells.”

  She smiled at that. “I expect he does. You get as old as Ham here, you’ve seen everything twice.” She took off her hat, wiped an arm over her brow. She didn’t like Ham’s color. The red flush that stained his face looked hot enough to explode. But she knew to tread carefully.

  Pouring two cups, she walked over, held them out. “Hot work. Take a break.”

  “Be done soon,” Ham said, but his breath was puffing.

  “You got to keep the fluid in. You told me that often enough that I have to take it as truth.” She all but shoved the cup into his hand. “You boys take your salt tablets?”

  “Sure we did.” Billy gulped the water down, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Ham, I’m going to finish here with Billy. You take Moon back for me.”

  “What the hell for?” His eyes were running from squinting into the sun. Under his soaked shirt, his heart pounded like a hammer on an anvil. But he finished any job he started. “I said we’re about done here.”

  “That’s fine, then. I need you to take Moon back and get me those stock reports. I’m falling behind, and I want to catch up on them tonight.”

  “You know where the damn reports are.”

  “And I need them.” Casually, she took her gloves out of her saddlebags. “And see if you can sweet-talk Bess into making some peach ice cream. She’ll do it for you, and I’ve got a yen for some.”

  He wasn’t a fool, knew just what she was doing. “I’m stringing wire here, girl.”

  “No.” She hefted the roll as Billy watched, wide-eyed and fascinated. “I’m stringing wire here. You’re going to take Moon back in, get those stock reports in my office, and see about peach ice cream.”

  He tossed his cup on the ground, planted his feet. “The hell with that. Take her back yourself.”

  She set the roll down. “I run Mercy, Ham, and I’m telling you what I want you to do. You got a problem with that, we’ll take it up later. But now, you ride back and do what I’m telling you.”

  His face was redder now, making her pulse skittish, but she kept her eyes cool and level with his. After ten humming seconds, with the heat crippling both of them, he turned stiffly away and mounted.

  “You think I can’t do the job this half-assed boy can do, then you get my paycheck ready.” He kicked the horse, sent Moon into a surprised rear, then galloped off.

  “Jeez” was all Billy could think of.

  “Damn it, I should have handled that better.” She rubbed her hands over her face.

  “He’ll be all right, Will. He doesn’t mean it. Ham’d never leave you or Mercy.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about.” She blew out a breath. “Let’s get this damn wire strung.”

  S HE WAITED UNTIL NIGHTFALL. CANCELED A DATE WITH Ben, and sat out on the front porch. She heard the thunder, watched lightning flash, but the sky was too clear for rain.

  Despite the heat she had no taste for the ice cream Bess had churned. Even when Tess came out with a bowl heaped full of it, Willa shook her head.

  “You’ve been sulking since you came in today.” Tess leaned against the porch rail and tried to imagine cool ocean breezes. “Want to talk about it?”

  “No. It’s a personal problem.”

  “They’re the most interesting.” Philosophically, Tess spooned up some ice cream and sampled it. “Ben?”

  “No.” Willa gave an irritated shrug. “Why is it people think every personal thought in my head revolves around Ben McKinnon?”

  “Because women usually do their best sulking over a man. You didn’t have a fight with him?”

  “I’m always fighting with him.”

  “I mean a real fight.”

  “No.”

  “Then why did you cancel your date?”

  “Jesus Christ, can’t I choose to stay home on my own porch one night without answering a bunch of questions?”

  “Guess not.” Tess dug out another spoonful. “This is great stuff.” Licked the spoon clean. “Come on, try it.”

  “If it’ll get you off my back.” With little grace, Willa grabbed the bowl and scooped some up. It was sheer heaven. “Bess makes the best peach ice cream in the civilized world.”

  “I tend to agree with you. Want to eat ice cream, get drunk, and take a swim? Sounds like a great way to cool off.”

  Willa’s eyes slitted with suspicion. “Why are you so friendly?”

  “You look really bummed. I guess I’m feeling sorry for you.”

  It should have annoyed her. Instead it touched her. “I had words with Ham today. He was out stringing wire and I got spooked. He looked so old all of a sudden, and it was so blasted hot. I thought he’d have a stroke or something. A heart attack. I made him come back in, and that slapped his pride flat. I just can’t lose anybody else,” she said quietly. “Not right now. Not yet.”

  “His pride will bounce back. Maybe you dented it a little, but he’s too devoted to you to stay mad for long.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Soothed, she handed the bowl back to Tess. “Maybe I’ll come in shortly and take that swim.”

  “All right.” Tess opened the screen, shot back a grin. “But I’m not wearing a suit.”

  Chuckling, Willa eased back in the rocker, let it creak. Thunder rumbled, a little closer now. And she heard the crunch of boots on stone. She sat up, one hand going under the chair where her rifle rested. She brought it back up, laid it in her lap when Ham stepped into the light.

  “Evening,” she said.

  “Evening. You got my check?”

  Stubborn old goat, she thought, and gestured to the chair beside her. “Would you sit down a minute?”

  “I got packing to do.”

  “Please.”

  Bandy legs stiff as a week-old wishbone, he climbed the steps, lowered himself into the next rocker. “You took me down in front of that boy today.”

  “I’m sorry.” She folded her hands in her lap, stared down at him. It was the sound of his voice, raw with hurt and wounded pride, that scraped at her. “I tried to make it simple.”

  “Make what simple? You think I need some girl I used to paddle coming out and telling me I’m too old to do my job?”

  “I never said—”

  “Hell you didn’t. Plain as day to me.”<
br />
  “Why do you have to be so stubborn?” She kicked at the porch rail out of sheer frustration. “Why do you have to be so hardheaded?”

  “Me? Never in my life did I see a more rock-headed female than the one I’m sitting beside right now. You think you know it all, girl? You think you got all the answers? That every blessed thing you do is right?”

  “No!” She exploded with it, leaped up. “No, I don’t. I don’t know half the time if it’s right, but I have to do it anyway. And I did what I had to do today, and it was right. Goddamn you, Ham, you were going to have heatstroke in another ten minutes, and then where the hell would I be? How the hell could I run this place without you?”

  “You’re already doing just that. You took me off the job today.”

  “I took you off the fences. I don’t want you riding fence in this heat. I’m telling you I’m not having it.”

  “You’re not having it.” He rose too, went nose to nose with her. “Who the hell do you think you are, telling me you’re not having it? I’ve been riding fence in every kind of weather since before you were born. And you nor nobody’s telling me I can’t do it until I say I’m done.”

  “I’m telling you.”

  “Then cut me my last check.”

  “Fine.” She swung to the door, pushed by temper. Her hand fisted on the edge, then whipped it back in a slam that shook the wood under her feet. “I was scared! Why can’t I be allowed to be scared?”

  “What in hell are you scared of?”

  “Losing you, you mule-headed son of a bitch. You were all red-faced and sweaty and your breath was puffing like a bad engine. I couldn’t stand it. I just couldn’t. And if you’d just gone in like I asked you, it would’ve been fine.”

  “It was hot,” he said, but his voice was weak now, and a little ashamed.

  “I know it was hot. Goddamn it, Ham, that’s the point. Why’d you make me push you that way? I didn’t want to embarrass you in front of Billy. I just wanted you to get out of the sun. I know who my father was,” she said furiously, and made his head come up, his eyes meet hers again. “And I haven’t buried him yet. Not the one who really counted when I needed him to count. I don’t want to bury him for a long time.”

  “I could’ve finished.” He bumped his toe on the rail, stared at it. “Hell, Will, I was making the boy do most of the work. I know my limits.”

  “I need you here.” She waited for her system to calm again. “I need you, Ham. I’m asking you to stay.”

  He moved his shoulders, kept his eyes on his feet. “I guess I got no place better to be. I shouldn’ta bucked you. I guess I knew you were thinking of me.” He shifted his feet, cleared his throat. “You’re doing a fine job around here, all in all. I’m, ah . . . I’m proud of you.”

  And that’s why he was the one who counted, she thought. The father of her blood had never said those words to her. “I can’t do it alone. You want to come in?” She opened the door again. “Have some of that peach ice cream. You can tell me all the things I’m doing wrong.”

  He scratched his beard. “Maybe. I guess there’s a few things I could straighten you out on.”

  W HEN HE LEFT, HIS BELLY WAS FULL AND HIS HEART considerably lighter. He strolled toward the bunkhouse, light of step. He heard the sounds, the disturbed braying of cattle, the click of boot heels.

  Who the hell was on guard duty? He couldn’t quite place it. Jim or Billy, he thought, and decided to wander over to check things out.

  “That you, Jim? Billy? What are you playing with the penned head for this time of night?”

  He saw the calf first, bleeding, eyes rolling in fear and pain. He’d taken two running steps before he saw the man rise up out of the shadows.

  “What the devil’s this? What the hell have you done?”

  And he knew, before he saw the knife arch up, but there was no time to scream.

  The panic came first. With the knife dripping in his hand, he stared down at Ham, the blood. Wiped a hand over his mouth. He’d just needed a quick fix, that was all. One calf. He’d meant to drag it away from the ranch yard, but the knife had just leaped into his hand.

  And now Ham. He’d never meant to hurt Ham. Ham had trained him, worked with him, paid attention when attention needed to be paid. He’d always felt Ham had known the truth about where he’d come from and who he was.

  And Ham was loyal.

  But now there was no choice. It had to be finished. He crouched down, prepared, just as Willa rushed out of the night.

  “Ham? Is that you? I forgot to tell you about the—” Her boots skidded. Lightning flashed, bursting light onto the men all but at her feet. “Oh, sweet God, what happened to him? What happened?” She was already on her knees, turning him over into her arms. “Did he—” And there was blood on her hands.

  “I’m sorry, Will. I’m sorry.” He turned the knife on her, held it to her throat. “Don’t call out. I don’t want to hurt you. I swear I don’t want to hurt you.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’m your brother.”

  And bringing his fist up, he knocked her cold.

  H AM WOKE TO PAIN. FIERY, BLINDING PAIN. HE COULDN’T pinpoint it, couldn’t find the source, but he tasted blood in his mouth. Groaning, he tried to sit up, but couldn’t move his legs. He turned his head, saw that the calf had bled out. Its eyes were dead.

  Soon, he thought, he’d bleed out too.

  There was something else on the ground that caught his eye. He stared at it a long time, watched it come and go as his vision cleared and blurred. Then hissing, he crawled toward it, brushed the tip with his fingers.

  Willa’s hat.

  H E HAD TO CARRY HER. HE SHOULD HAVE GONE FOR A rig, knew he should have, but he’d been so shaken he hadn’t been able to think clearly. Now he laid her as gently as he could on the ground near the pasture and with a trembling hand rattled a bucket of oats.

  They’d go on horseback. It was probably best. He wanted to get her away, into the hills a ways so that he could explain everything to her. She’d understand once he had.

  Blood was thicker than water.

  He saddled the paint pony that nosed into the bucket, then the roan that tried to nuzzle through.

  Oh, he hated to do it, even temporarily, but he tied Willa’s hands, tied her feet, then strapped her across the saddle. She’d come to shortly, he thought, and she’d try to get away before he could explain.

  She had to understand. He prayed she’d understand as he vaulted into the saddle, took both pairs of reins. If she didn’t, he’d have to kill her.

  Thunder stalked closer as he rode into the hills.

  H AM CLUTCHED THE HAT IN HIS HAND. STAGGERED TO his feet. He managed two drunken steps before he went to his knees. He called out, and though his voice boomed in his ears, it was barely a whisper.

  He thought of Willa, hardly more than a baby with a milky mouth, grinning at him as he plopped her into the saddle in front of him. A little girl, all braids and eyes, begging him to let her ride out to pasture with him. An adolescent, gawky as a colt, running wire with him and chattering his ears off.

  And the woman who had looked at him tonight, her heart in her eyes when she’d told him he was the one who counted.

  So he bit back the pain that was eating through him like cancer and fought his way to his feet again.

  He could see the main house, the lights in the windows circling in front of his eyes. Blood dripped through his fingers and onto her hat. He didn’t feel the ground when it jumped up to meet him.

  S HE CAME TO SLOWLY, HER JAW THROBBING. HER EYES focused on the ground bumping and falling beneath her. She tried to shift, found herself snugly secured, lying across the saddle with her head dangling. She must have moaned, or made some sound, for the horses stopped quickly.

  “It’s okay, Will. You’re okay.” He loosed the straps, the restraints on her legs, but kept her hands secured. “Need to ride a little further. Can you handle it?”

  “What?” Still groggy, she fe
lt herself lifted, then she was sitting in the saddle, shaking her head to clear it while her hands were strapped tight to the horn.

  “You just catch your breath. I’ll lead your horse.”

  “What are you doing?” It leaped back into her mind but refused to root there. “Ham?”

  “Couldn’t help it. Just couldn’t help it. We’ll talk this through. You just—” He broke off, dragging her down by the hair when she sucked in her breath. “Don’t you scream. Nobody’s going to hear you, but I don’t want you screaming.” Mumbling to himself, he tugged out his bandanna, tied it quickly over her mouth. “I’m sorry I have to do it this way, but you just don’t understand yet.”

  Trying not to be angry with her, he strode back to his horse, swung on, and rode into the trees.

  W ELL, WILLA HAD MISSED HER SWIM, TESS THOUGHT AS she tied the belt of a short terry robe. She ran her fingers through her hair to smooth it back and wandered out of the pool house toward the kitchen.

  Probably still sulking, she decided. Willa took everything in and worried over it. It might be a good idea to try to teach her a few relaxation techniques—though Tess couldn’t quite visualize Willa meditating or experimenting with imaging.

  Rain would make her happy, Tess supposed. Lord, everyone around here lived their life by the weather. Too wet, too dry. Too cold, too hot. Well, in two months, she would say farewell, scenic Montana, and hello, LA.

  Lunch alfresco, she mused. Cartier’s. God knew, she deserved to treat herself to some ridiculously expensive bauble after this yearlong banishment from the real world.

  The theater. Palm trees. Traffic-choked highways and the familiar haze of smog.

  God bless Hollywood.

  Then she pouted a little because it didn’t sound quite as wonderful as it had a month before. Or a month before that.

  No, she’d be glad to get back. Thrilled. She was just feeling broody, that was all. Maybe she’d buy a place up in the hills rather than on the beach, though. She could have a horse up there, and the trees, the grass. That would be the best of both worlds, after all. A brisk, exciting drive from the excitement and crowds of the city home to the pleasure she’d come to enjoy of the country.