by Bonnie Vanak
“The war of Northern aggression,” Silas had told her in his crackly voice, rocking in his chair by the fire.
“The Civil War,” she’d corrected, sitting at his feet, fascinated by the tales of the Anderson clan.
“That’s what the history books say. But here we call it differently.”
The Yankees came and burned down the farmhouse, but they never got the gold. Henry died of a bullet wound at Gettysburg and Matty Anderson, nine months pregnant with Silas’s great-grandfather, had gone on to rebuild and work the land herself to make it a profitable horse ranch. When times got tough, she sold two hundred acres to pay for the ranch’s upkeep, but she never gave up the prime pasture.
Horses were in Anderson blood, Silas told her. And that gold was sitting somewhere on the two hundred acres, just waiting for an Anderson or some lucky devil to discover it and get rich.
As a child, she’d combed through these woods, eager to find the gold and buy her parents a real house like the one Nick and his family claimed. Silas said whoever found the gold could keep it. She took him at his word. Only if she found it, Shelby would save the ranch.
The loamy smell of freshly turned earth hit her as they walked through the pasture. In his camo pants, gray hoodie and hiking boots, Nick cut a fine figure as he accompanied her. Sweat pooled low at the waistband of her jeans. Shelby told herself it was from the exercise, not closeness to the man who managed to make her pulse skip a beat.
Nick stopped for a minute to survey the sweep of pasture. “Looks like some ploughing going on here. Dan planning to plant crops at this time of year?”
Unease bit her. “Dan let Chuck Beaufort run a dozer through this section of pasture to see how rocky it was, and how much work it would take to clear it.”
His jaw tightened. “When did he let that bastard onto my family’s land?”
While Silas was sick in the hospital the first time. Shelby didn’t want Nick railing at Dan. Things were tense enough after the funeral. “A while ago. He’s not come back since. Silas forbade it. He said the land belongs to the family, and no one could pry it from him.”
“But my cousin thought he could sell.” Nick scowled. “Dan was ripe to sell, while Silas wasn’t. Add that to all these incidents of vandalism and anonymous commenters leaving bad online reviews of the Belle Creek, and it makes my cousin look very suspect.”
Shelby hastened to assure him. “Dan wasn’t trying to coax Silas into selling the entire ranch, just this section of pasture. It’s fallow, and we never use it. Haven’t for years. But it has access to the road.”
Nick adjusted his pack and scanned the area. “Land’s still good. Need to work the soil, that’s all. No one’s paid attention to it.”
He talked as if he planned to stay, coax some life into the soil. “Now you’re talking like an Anderson,” she teased.
He shrugged. “No. I’m talking like someone who’s been saddled with a six-figure mortgage who’s trying to find answers on how to pay for it. Leasing the land for pasture won’t do. Too late in the year and not enough income.”
His sensual mouth thinned out and tension radiated from him. Shelby put a reassuring hand on his arm. “We’ll figure it out, Nick. Silas may have left the ranch to you, but this is my home, too.”
With a gruff nod, he gestured to the trail. “Let’s go. I want to get to that cabin.”
A little hurt by his reaction, she remained quiet as they continued. Maybe Nick didn’t like the idea of her calling the ranch home. Made it more difficult for him to sell the place, cut his losses and move on.
He’d mentioned Paris. Perhaps that’s why he’d talked about exploring her dreams. If she was gone from here, it would be easier for him to clear his conscience about selling.
“Don’t sell,” she blurted.
Turning, he stared at her, a frown denting his forehead. “What?”
“If you came with me today to survey the land to see how much you could squeeze out of Beaufort, then turn around and walk back, Nick. Your father never wanted to sell this land. It’s been in your family for years and it’s an institution—”
“Shel—”
“Do you really want to see a theme park built where your ancestors used to ride their horses, farm the fields, where history walked? Maybe you don’t appreciate your family’s past, but I do, and the idea of them tearing down the trees and running dozers over this land... I would work my fingers to the bone to save the ranch because this isn’t only a place to live, it’s—”
“Whoa.” Nick lightly clasped her forearms, his dark gaze serious. “Cut me some slack, Shel. I only found out I inherited the place yesterday. I’m not making any quick decisions. I promised I’d stick it out for a month, find out who’s damaging Belle Creek. Okay?”
Shelby nodded, but mixed in with the relief was the ever-present worry. By month’s end, Nick might not have a choice.
He gave her arms a quick squeeze, his deep chest rising and falling. “No more talk about selling. I want to see the cabin again. It’s been years.”
It was a clear day, the gray mist covering the land beginning to dissipate beneath the sun’s warmth. The path snaked through the pasture into the woods.
“You really believe you’ll find old Henry’s gold after all these years?” He clasped her hand as she scampered over a rotting log blocking their path.
“Why not me? I need it the most.”
Nick shook his head. “Yankees found that gold and Henry was too proud to admit it. Or his widow used it for upkeep of the ranch to pay the taxes the carpetbaggers heaped on the land.”
“That’s not what you thought all those times you sneaked out of the house to search with me.”
A wide grin touched his face. “Maybe I was looking for a reason to spend time with you.”
A thrill shot through her. Shelby tried to control her rapid pulse. He didn’t mean anything by it.
“I bet I can still beat you to the woods,” she taunted.
Barely had she spoken the words when he took off, running for the forest.
“Hey, that’s cheating! You had a head start,” she yelled.
They raced to the edge of the woods, Nick easily beating her. Shelby gasped for breath and sat on a rock as Nick pulled a bottle of water from his pack. He drank, his strong throat muscles working. The man was so hot. Finely put together, a rugged specimen of pure maleness that sent her lady parts throbbing. Shelby wiped her brow with the sleeve of her sweatshirt, well aware that she was overheated not merely from their race.
How many times had she traipsed through these woods with Nick when they were younger, looking for berries to munch on in the spring? Searching every rock and incline for clues to the hidden treasure?
They pushed on and arrived at the creek spilling over the rocks. Nick studied the stones set into the water.
“Still here,” he murmured. “Remember when we found them and rolled them into the creek because the bridge washed out? Silas said we’d have to wait for a new one, but that didn’t stop us.”
“Or slow us down.” Shelby placed a foot on one stone and continued on, carefully navigating each one. “He never did rebuild the bridge.”
They kept to the path, a narrow ribbon snaking through the tall yellow grasses of the pasture seldom used by the ranch. Nick sniffed the air.
“Always thought this would make a great place to build a cabin. Guess that’s why Henry rebuilt the original cabin in the woods years ago.” Mischief flared in his gaze. “I think he wanted a private place as a secret love nest.”
Shelby laughed. “More likely a private place for his wife to get away from Henry’s love nest. She bore him eight children.”
Nick’s gaze turned warm as he turned to look at her. “Eight’s a good number.”
She flushed as they continued on, wind s
weeping over the grasses and rustling the leaves in the trees. It was a cool, clear autumn day, perfect for such an outing. If not for the sheer desperation driving her to find the lost treasure, she’d thoroughly enjoy herself. Sun dappled the ground as they made their way back into a thicket of trees. Large boulders sprouted up here, outcroppings of limestone that made the going tricky.
“They fought a fierce battle here in the Civil War,” Shelby murmured, fascinated by Anderson family history. “These very rocks sheltered rebels as they took a stand against the Yankees.”
“I always thought this land was haunted,” Nick confessed, stopping to examine a small red mark on a tree trunk. “It would make a great place to scare people, all this history of the war. Hey, the trail mark is still here. Shortcut to the cabin.”
The county preservation society had wanted to purchase the land and turn it into a park. Silas balked, promising to never have the land leave the family. He’d kept to that promise.
He gazed around at the red and yellow leaves ablaze on the trees, the sweep of meadow. “Ever do more than trail rides here?”
“What else would you use this trail for?”
“A wagon, pulled by a tractor,” he mused. “Halloween is coming up, hay rides, pumpkins...”
She’d seen that spark in his eyes before, when Nick got an idea. “What are you thinking?”
“Just thinking. Let’s push on.”
After leaving the thicket of woods, the land began to slope down gently toward the stream. They came to a small clearing. Large rocks jutted out from the ground, as did thick tree roots, making navigation a little tricky, but she knew each one, and wended through them as sure-footed as a billy goat.
Shelby quickened her pace, nearly running now. Protected by thick brush and trees, the two-room cabin came into view. Nick stood behind her as she gazed at the structure. Awe filled her. Here was where the first generations of Andersons had lived, fought, loved, birthed babies and died.
Nick’s family had such a rich history, while she didn’t even know if her grandparents were alive, much less where they hailed from.
A bucket sat by the stone well out front. Nick walked over and squatted down. “All still here, and in good shape.”
“Silas insisted on preserving everything. Each spring he’d send everyone out here to clean up, get rid of any rat nests or other creatures that spent the winter. He painted the inside, but left the outside same as it was back in 1845, when your great-great-grandfather settled here.”
Bracing his hands on the lip of the well, he peered down. “Good. Silas finally sealed it. It’s too dangerous to have open with kids around. Though I doubt Felicity would let Miles and Mason come out here.”
“For a long time I thought the gold was buried at the bottom, but Silas hired a man to check it out before he sealed it for good. And your father stood by the entire time, making sure that camera was operational and the man wasn’t lying and planning to come back later.”
Nick grinned. “Trust never came easily to Dad.”
Finally he’d called him Dad. Nick always referred to his sire by his first name, as if preferring to distance himself from his parentage.
Shelby walked up the steps to the front door, then stood on tiptoe to get the key. Nick came behind her, his body curving into hers, and he reached it first. The hardness of his body snug against hers made her all too aware of him, the slight spice of his cologne and the woodsy smell that was all Nick.
Remembering what happened last time they were here, she flushed and stepped aside to let him unlock the door.
Shelby understood why Nick’s ancestors settled here. With the abundance of land, the sparkling creek providing plenty of water and the tall trees, it was a perfect spot for a couple getting their start in life. Henry’s father had been a farmer, and he planted corn in these fields that were too rough to sustain anything else.
The cabin was rough-hewn logs. Henry had built it shortly before the war, expanding the two rooms and adding a loft for his growing family. The cabin was actually two cabins joined by a chimney.
A mill had been erected by the stream, but it had long fallen into disrepair, and Silas’s father tore it down when it became too dangerous. Near the cabin was the stone foundation of the original barn, where Henry stabled his cows and horses, and began experimenting with breeding Tennessee walking horses.
Dust motes danced in a stray sunbeam let in by the bank of windows on the far side of the room. Silas had wanted to preserve the cabin’s historical integrity, but when Nick was a child, he’d gotten lost in the woods during the winter and would have frozen, but for the cabin. After that Silas moved in a table and chairs against one wall, and a trundle bed with a thick down quilt. An oak cabinet that once stored food was stocked with canned goods in case of emergencies.
“I remember how this place saved my sorry butt when I was ten,” Nick murmured, gazing around the darkened room. “Damn blizzard made me lose my way. I would have frozen to death if not for Henry’s cabin.”
“Good thing you learned how to build a fire during those Boy Scout sessions,” she teased, wanting to erase the solemn look on his face.
The cabin must remind him of all the times he’d come here with Silas, when his father taught him how to hunt and live off the land. Shelby suspected those skills honed Nick’s abilities as a SEAL, though she doubted he’d give credit to Silas.
In one of the last letters he’d written home, Nick told his father he became a SEAL on his own merit. She understood that, but never understood how he felt he had to take full credit on his own. Hadn’t Silas been a good parent to him?
He walked across the cabin floor to the chimney that divided the homestead into two rooms. He squatted down and touched the stone hearth. Charred newspapers littered the fireplace. She joined him and the sight of the recent fire raised gooseflesh on her arms.
He gave her a questioning look. “You’ve been here lately, Shel?”
Troubled, she shook her head. “Not for a month. And I never lit a fire. Silas made it clear it was too hazardous, with the dry season and the drought plaguing these parts. Last thing anyone needs in these parts is a forest fire out of control.”
Nick walked around the chimney, studying the layout of the cabin. He peered out the windows. Usually this time of year the glass was grimy with dust, but not now.
The windows were clear and sparkling, as if someone had cleaned them.
“Silas send anyone out here to spruce up the place in the last month?” he asked.
She shook her head. “The cabin was the last thing on your father’s mind.”
“The spring’s still running?”
She nodded. The cabin had been built with a plume running from the spring near the creek up to a long trough, providing fresh water if the well ever ran dry.
“Plenty of water makes this a good place to camp out. Or hide out.” Nick frowned as he looked around. “Place is really clean. Too clean for a once-a-year cleaning.”
She went to the fireplace and sifted through the ashes. Shelby pulled a piece of unburned paper from the hearth.
“Look, Nick. Someone’s used this recently. This is a newspaper from last month.”
She showed him the headline. His frown deepened.
“With all the fences in disrepair, anyone could get onto this property. Not just family. But who would want to camp out here?” she mused.
Nick prodded the ashes with the fireplace poker. “Someone who wants a place to hide out while they vandalize the ranch. Cabin’s got perfect access to the back road, makes for an easy escape if needed. Plenty of canned goods and water.”
When he checked the cupboards, Shelby’s heart dropped to her stomach. The larder had been fully stocked this summer. She’d seen to it, for Silas insisted. Only a few cans of beef stew sat on the shelf.
A chill raced down her spine. Shelby clutched the straps of her pack, and felt her palms turn clammy. Whoever had been vandalizing the ranch knew this land, knew the back roads and the easy access. And they had been here recently. Maybe even as recent as yesterday, when they were at the cemetery burying Silas.
“What if they’re still around? And armed?” she whipped her gaze around the small room, suddenly realizing how clean everything was, not even dust on the floorboards to show footprints.
Nick lifted the hem of his hoodie to display the pistol snug on his belt. “I guarantee I’m a better shot than he is.”
“Or she. It could be a woman,” she murmured, thinking of Natalie and how much the woman had talked about the ranch and how it would make a perfect location for her father’s theme park.
She swiped a trembling hand through her hair. “We have a month, Nick. How can we find out who’s doing this and come up with the money to pay off the mortgage?”
“Hey,” he said softly. “We’ll catch whoever’s doing this. Don’t give up that easily, Shel.”
His thumb rubbed a sensitive spot on her lower lip. Nick stared at her mouth, his gaze darkening. Blood surged in her veins and her heart quickened. The last time she’d stood in this cabin with Nick, she’d been crying. He came searching for her, found her and enfolded her into his strong embrace. And once her sniffles had ended, his embrace turned different. He stared at her mouth the same way he’d done ten years ago.
“I’m not giving up,” she said fiercely. “I never give up.”
“Neither do I,” he murmured, bending his head close to hers.
He kissed her.
She was too swept up in the moment to protest, too enraptured by the warmth of his firm mouth moving authoritatively over hers, feeling the subtle pressure of his lips, his scent wrapping around her like a warm blanket.
This is a bad idea, her mind chanted. Go for it, her body urged.
Shelby clutched his arms, holding on to him as his tongue gently thrust past her closed lips. A myriad of sensations pummeled her. Nick, kissing her like he’d done all those years ago, except his kiss was more assured. He was experienced, a man who knew how to kiss women and coax them into his bed.