by Amanda Boone
In his mind’s eye he could always summon the image of Rebecca Rose Carson, the prettiest girl at Crystal Valley: Long, silky-straight dark hair the color of sweet chocolate, solemn doe-brown eyes ringed with gold, and a petite, perfectly feminine body with high, pert breasts and a matching bottom.
Rebecca had also been the most unavailable girl in school, thanks to her strict father. One of the richest men in Montana, Big Bill Carson bred world-class race horses, but he flashed his money too often and was known to be a snob. Because he didn’t allow his daughter to date, and Rebecca hardly spoke to anyone, most people thought she was stuck-up. Chris knew from secretly watching her for years that it was shyness that kept her aloof.
After graduation Chris hadn’t seen much of Rebecca, and when Big Bill had remarried he’d heard she’d stopped coming to town altogether. People gossiped that it was because she was sickly, but Chris firmly believed her overbearing, controlling father was keeping her locked up in his fancy mansion. Every time he’d tried to call Rebecca, the old man had told him she couldn’t come to the phone.
“Morning, Chris.” Lyle’s son Jimmy came out of the feed store with a handcart loaded with heavy grain sacks, and pushed them to the snow-crusted curb. “Hey, did you hear about Old Man Carson?”
Chris picked up a hundred-pound sack and toss it into the back so hard the truck rocked. “No, what’s he bought now?”
“The farm, man.” Jimmy grimaced. “Last weekend he got trampled to death. They just had the funeral yesterday.”
“Trampled?” As Chris began loading more sacks he tried to wrap his head around that. He’d never liked Rebecca’s father, but as an experienced breeder the man probably knew more about horses than Chris did. “How’d that happen?”
“No one knows for sure. They found him dead in a stall with Whiplash.” The boy shook his head and huddled deeper in his jacket as a cold breeze wafted around them. “Man, you couldn’t pay me to get within a mile of that crazy stallion.”
“Shame.” Chris looked down Main Street, which led directly to the hill where Big Bill Carson had built his mansion to overlook the town. “Maybe I’ll stop in and pay my respects to the family.”
“You might want to hold off,” Jimmy said. “My ma said they’re packing up his daughter to send her to the loony bin.”
Chris’s chest knotted. “What? Why?”
“Her stepmother, Holly? Told Ma that Becca’s all messed up in the head.” The younger man shook his head sadly. “Guess she couldn’t handle losing her dad like that.”
#
Rebecca Carson sat on her lumpy bed and stared at the Bible in her hands. She’d stayed in her room since her father’s funeral, and everyone thought she was too devastated to speak to the visitors who came by to express their condolences.
She couldn’t feel anything but afraid for her life.
For two years Becca had kept silent about the abuse she’d suffered so she could prepare for her escape. She’d squirreled away every penny of her meager allowance, and kept a hidden bag packed with clothes and provisions. She’d even figured out how to get away without being seen or missed immediately. All she had to do was go up in the attic through the access panel in her closet, crawl to the window that had never been fitted with an alarm sensor, and wait there until one of the local merchants’ trucks parked beneath it. She’d even gotten the rope she’d need to lower herself down to the truck.
She’d never worked up the nerve to actually go through with it, but she had no choice now. Just before the funeral, her stepmother had fired all of the household staff, replacing them with a bunch of men who looked like thugs and watched Becca with menacing eyes. Then she’d discovered all the phones were disconnected, and the mansion’s security system code had been changed.
After glancing at the door, Becca took out the folded yearbook page she kept in her Bible. Slowly she unfolded it and stared at the big, handsome boy pictured at the top. Chris Boone’s crystal blue eyes seemed to sparkle at her, reminding her of all the times she’d caught him watching her in school.
He’d always given her a sheepish, charming grin, but he hadn’t looked away. The few times he’d tried to talk to her, Becca had been too eaten up with shyness to mumble more than a few words. Still, there had been that one, glorious day, when she’d bumped into him coming out of art class. For a few, heart-racing moments he’d held her in his arms.
“Sorry,” he murmured, looking down at her as if he’d just won first prize for roping at the state fair. “You sure are a little thing, Rebecca Rose.”
He knew her name, and for a moment she forgot everything but the feel of his hard, muscular body against hers. “Everyone calls me Becca,” she whispered.
“That’s a shame.” His mouth curved as he tucked a piece of her dark hair behind her ear. “Because Rebecca Rose are my two favorite words in the whole world.” As the bell rang he released her with obvious reluctance, but then stood and watched her as she hurried off.
Becca refolded and tucked away the page. That had been seven years ago, and still it thrilled her to remember being in Chris Boone’s arms.
She jumped as the door to her bedroom opened, and Holly came in carrying a breakfast tray. Tall and thin, her stepmother hardly resembled the Vegas showgirl she’d been before marrying Big Bill Carson. Now she wore designer clothes, French perfume, and kept her blonde hair in a smooth bob. Rubies glittered in her ears and around her wrists, matching the blood-red lipstick she always wore.
Becca tried not to look at her mouth. Sometimes the lipstick rubbed off on Holly’s front teeth, and made her fake smiles seem even more grotesque.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast,” Holly said, setting the tray on Becca’s night stand. “You have to eat something, dearest.”
“I’m just praying for Dad.” Becca froze as the older woman reached out and stroked a hand over her hair. “Thank you, Mother.”
Holly had insisted Becca call her Mother, and at first she’d done so to be polite. Now using the affectionate name felt like trying to speak through a mouthful of broken glass.
“I know how hard this has been,” Holly said. “But tomorrow we’re going to get out of here and go on a little trip to Helena. There’s a wonderful treatment center there where you’ll be staying until you get better.”
Fear made her blood run cold. “I’m not sick.”
“Oh, but you are.” Holly sat down beside her. “I can’t let you go on hurting yourself, dearest. You need help.”
Knowing what was coming, Becca cowered. “Please, don’t.”
“Shhh.” Holly pressed a manicured finger against her trembling lips. “What have I told you about arguing with me?” When Becca remained silent, she slapped her. “Answer me.”
She stared down at her Bible and willed herself not to cry. “Mother knows best.”
“That’s right, dearest.” Holly caressed her throbbing cheek. “Now eat your waffles. You need to keep up your strength.”
As Holly sauntered to the door Becca reached under the covers, and then stood up. “Whatever you do to me, you won’t get away with it.”
Her stepmother turned around slowly. “With what, dearest?”
It took all her courage to say it. “I know you murdered my father and made it look like an accident.” She swallowed hard. “Why? He gave you everything.”
“Your precious Daddy was a pig. Pawing me every night, trying to get me pregnant so he could have a son – as if I’d ever ruin my body by having a brat. When he told me we were going to a fertility doctor I knew I had to get rid of him.” Her eyes narrowed. “All right, dearest, since we’re being honest, here’s how it’s going to work: you’re going to sign over your inheritance to me, so I can look after it for you.”
Becca lifted her chin. “You can’t make me do that.”
“Can’t I?” Holly advanced on her. “I made sure everyone in town knows how unstable you are. So when you’re found dead, they’ll assume that you killed yourself out o
f grief over Daddy.”
“No.” Even as she choked out the word, Becca could see the murderous hatred in her stepmother’s eyes. “Please.”
Holly shoved her back against the wall, and when Becca collapsed she kicked her over and over as she ranted, “I don’t care if you sign or you die, you stupid little bitch. Either way, I get everything.”
Huddling with her arms over her head, Becca didn’t move until she heard her bedroom door slam. Painfully she hauled herself up and reached under the covers again. She then hobbled over to the other side of her bed. With shaking fingers she pulled back the mattress cover, and reached into the hollow space she made, and began pulling out what was going to save her life.
Chapter Two
December snows had blanketed the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, adding a crisp white stillness to the rambling pasturelands of Ghost Lake Ranch. Even in winter the Boone brothers worked hard to keep their herds healthy and thriving, and maintain their reputation as producers of some of the finest beef and dairy cattle in Montana.
“Damn shame about Bill Carson,” Ethan Boone said as he helped Chris unload the feed order from the pickup. “Never thought he’d be fool enough get cornered by that loco stallion.”
“Yeah.” Chris tossed the last heavy sack into the bin. “I might go up to the Carson house tomorrow and seeing how Rebecca’s doing.”
“You mean, now that Big Daddy’s gone, you finally get to make your move on little bashful Becca,” their youngest brother, Caleb, said as he joined them.
Chris shook his head. “Something’s not right about this.” He told his brothers about what Jimmy had said, and saw the look they exchanged. “Now hold on. There’s nothing wrong with Rebecca. She’s just shy, is all.”
Caleb grinned and opened his mouth, and then caught Ethan’s stern look and backed up a step. “Yeah, I think I’ll go check on Pete.” He hurried off toward the stables.
Ethan came around the truck and leaned against the back end next to Chris. “We’ve all heard the talk around town about Becca. I know you care about her, but it’s been a long time since high school. People change.” He hesitated before he added, “They wouldn’t be sending her off unless there was good reason for it.”
“I know Rebecca,” Chris insisted. “She’s not crazy.”
“All right, then maybe you should go see her.” Ethan glanced at the Jeep coming up the drive toward the main house and grinned. “Ah, here’s the love of my life. We’re going for a ride out to the pond to see if it’s froze over enough for Jessa to ice skate. You want to tag along?”
“About as much as you want me to.” Chris nodded in the opposite direction. “I’m on fence check this week, so I’m riding out. Don’t wait dinner on me.”
“Stop by the tractor barn for me,” Ethan told him. “Hastings was supposed to deliver that round baler he repaired by noon. If it’s not there, call me. I’m not paying for him to store it over the holidays.”
Chris went into the stables and saddled Casper, the big white gelding who was most comfortable carrying his weight on long rides. He took the time to pack his saddlebags with snacks for both of them before he rode out to the nearest boundary fence. From there he rode parallel to it as he inspected the condition of the wire and posts.
Fence checking always bored his brothers, but Chris liked the solitary rides. It gave him time to think, and with all the troubling news about the Carsons, he had plenty on his mind.
Although the snow cover was light, and Casper kept up a steady pace, it still took Chris almost an hour to reach the tractor barn, where the Boones kept the heavy machinery they used to till, plant and maintain the grazing pastures for their cattle herds. Three times the size of their next largest outbuilding, the red-roofed barn housed most of their heavy equipment as well as the cylindrical hay bales they put out during the long cold winter for their hungry herds.
“Here we are, Cas.” Chris dismounted outside the barn door, and took a few minutes to water the horse and feed him some snacks before he unlatched the enormous doors and walked inside. The old barn usually smelled of hay and machinery, but today Chris picked up the faintest scent of wildflowers.
“Yeah, and there’ll be a big pot of coffee waiting, too,” he muttered under his breath. He’d just realized he’d forgotten the thermos of hot, dark brew that he usually brought with him on long rides.
The round baler stood a few feet within, its chassis still crusted with ice from the trip over from Hastings’s repair shop. Chris walked around it, and then stopped in his tracks when he saw the door to the cab hanging open.
“This latch better not be broken.” He climbed onto the side of the baler and took hold of the handle.
“It’s not,” a soft, sweet voice said from behind him. “I forgot to close it.”
#
Becca managed a smile as Chris turned to stare at her, but it took a little longer to find her voice again. She’d forgotten just how tall he was, and the intensity of his crystal blue eyes, and how his thick, dark hair framed his handsome face. He wasn’t the boy with the easy grin from her yearbook page anymore, though; Christopher Boone had grown into a ruggedly handsome man.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said as he stepped down. “Do you remember me, from high school? Becca Carson?”
“Yeah, I do.” He pushed back his Stetson as he peered down at her. “Rebecca Rose, what are you doing in our tractor barn?”
“I needed a place to stay, and I didn’t think you would mind.” When he didn’t reply, she lost the last shred of her courage and snatched up her bag. “Okay, I’ll just go then. Sorry.”
“Stop.” Chris got between her and the barn door. “Did you run away from home?”
She stared down at the old straw under her boots. “If you’d let me stay in the barn for a couple days, I won’t be any trouble. You won’t even know I’m here.”
Chris studied her face. “There’s no heat or food.”
“I brought a thermal blanket, and some stuff to eat.” She touched her bag. “I was in Girl Scouts. I’ll be fine.”
“Uh-huh.” He folded his arms. “There’s no bathroom, Girl Scout.”
“I can go in the woods.” She grimaced. “Actually I already have.”
He shook his head slowly. “Rebecca Rose, I can’t let you stay here. You’ll freeze to death overnight.”
He was looking at her the way everyone did, and she couldn’t stand it, not from him. “I’m not crazy.” She lifted her wobbling chin. “And you don’t have to worry about me. Really. I can keep warm in the hay. I can do this.” She blinked, and felt two big, hot tears slide down her cheeks. “Please, Chris. I have nowhere else to go.”
He held out his hand. “Come here to me, Rebecca.”
She shuffled forward, too afraid to look at his face now, and then his wonderful smell filled her head. This was Chris, the boy she’d loved for so long she couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been in her heart. She’d dreamed of this moment for years, and suddenly she was sobbing and running to him.
He caught her in his strong arms, lifting her off her feet as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “It’s all right, baby. I’ve got you now. I’ve got you.”
Chris carried her over to big wooden crate, and sat down with her in his lap. For a long time he simply held her and let her cry against his shoulder, his big hands stroking her hair and shoulders and back. When her sobs finally dwindled away, he tipped up her chin and used a folded red bandana to mop up her tears. She couldn’t help wincing as he touched her sore cheek. Chris turned her face toward the light to examine the swollen spot.
His jaw tightened. “Who hit you?”
“It’s nothing.” Becca saw she had a death grip on the front of his jacket, and slowly took her hands away to fold them in her lap. “I don’t want to get you involved in my mess.”
“You’re in my barn, sitting on my lap, and crying on my shoulder. Baby, I am all kinds of involved.” Chris skimmed a finger
tip along the curve of her bottom lip. “I swear, you’re ten times prettier since the last time I saw you.”
“Graduation day.” Becca twisted her fingers. “You asked to me sign your yearbook.”
“You said you left yours at home.” He brushed a damp strand of hair away from her cheek. “Then you reached up and kissed me on the cheek, and ran off. I almost came after you.”
Becca felt a burning flush crawl up her neck. “Why?”
“So I could kiss you back.” His vivid blue eyes shifted to her mouth.
She forgot to breathe for a moment. “So why didn’t you? Come after me, I mean.” Before he could answer she shook her head. “I know, it was my Dad. Everyone knew how strict he was, never letting me date or have a social life.”
“I always wondered why,” Chris admitted. “Wasn’t like you were a wild thing.”
“My mother was. She ran off with another man when I was just a baby.” She sighed. “When I got older, I started looking more like her. The more I did, the stricter Dad became – and you know how intimidating he was. Once he told me he’d rather see me dead than let me become a tramp like her.”
Anger flared in Chris’s eyes, but his touch remained gentle. “I’m so sorry.”
“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t chase me down at graduation,” she admitted. “Even a kiss on the cheek would have made Dad go ballistic.”
“That’s the other problem.” He spanned her jaw with his hand. “I didn’t want to kiss your cheek, Rebecca Rose. I wanted those soft, sweet lips.”
“I’ve never been kissed,” she whispered.
“I know, baby,” he murmured back, his mouth only a breath from hers now. “I’d like to be your first, if you’ll let me.”
Tingling heat spread out through Becca’s middle, and she gripped his jacket again. “Oh, yes, Chris. Oh, please.”
His lips brushed over hers, hard and yet soft, and so gentle she wanted to moan. He kissed each corner of her mouth, and the little dip under her nose, and rubbed her lips with his until she parted them for him.