Backlash

by Lisa Jackson

“I’ve got things to do.”

  “Like wait for Denver to show up?”

  “Like work on the invoices.”

  “Oh, come on. Lighten up a little. The bills aren’t going anywhere.”

  “True, unfortunately.”

  “I’ll buy you a hamburger.” He offered her a smile and a wink. “Or I’ll let you buy me one.”

  “And why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m such a great brother.”

  She laughed. “Give me a break. Look, I can’t go now. Nate Edwards is supposed to show up this afternoon.”

  Mitch’s smile turned sad. “So this is it. You’re really going to sell part of your herd. Unbelievable.”

  “It is hard to believe, isn’t it?” she said, her voice gone rough at the thought. She shrugged her shoulders. “But it’s almost done. Nate’ll be good to them.”

  “Just make sure it’s what you want,” Mitch said before ambling toward the machine shed. “And if you change your mind and discover you can’t live without a double-cheese bacon burger, let me know.”

  “I will.”

  She heard the sound of Nate Edwards’s truck before she saw the big rig lumbering down the drive, a long horse trailer in tow, dust clouding behind.

  Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, Tessa waved as Nate ground the truck to a stop. He hopped out of the cab, and his daughter, Sherrie, unbuckled the straps from her car seat and jumped to the ground. “Tessie!” she squealed delightedly as she ran pell-mell into Tessa’s waiting arms.

  “How’re you, sugarplum?” Tessa asked, hoisting the spirited child into the air.

  “I want to see my new horse! Where is he?” she demanded. Her plump arms were crossed firmly over her chest.

  “She,” her father said, laughing. “You get one of the mares, remember?”

  “Where is she then?”

  “Over here.” Tessa carried Sherrie to the fence beyond which Red Wing switched her tail, her body already round with the foal growing inside.

  “I want to ride her!”

  “You will.”

  “Right now!”

  “Not on your life,” Nate said, grinning widely as he plucked Sherrie out of Tessa’s arms. “Maybe later, when we get home.”

  “But Tessa promised she’d teach me how to ride!”

  “I will,” Tessa vowed. “When your mom and dad say it’s okay.”

  “That’ll be never,” Sherrie grumbled, her lower lip protruding unhappily.

  “‘Never’ has a way of coming back to haunt you,” Tessa said. “Sometimes when you least expect it or don’t want it.” How many times had she promised herself she would never fall in love with Denver McLean again?

  Sherrie regarded Tessa mutinously, as if her special friend had turned coat and joined the enemy camp.

  “I should have called you,” Tessa said to Nate. “Brigadier’s got a bruised sole. Cassie Aldridge looked at the hoof and told me it would be fine if we kept up the poultices and let him rest, but if you’d rather wait—”

  “No way. Just let me take a look at him.”

  Tessa’s heart nearly dropped to the ground. Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how much she wanted Nate to change his mind—or at least put off his decision.

  In the stallion barn, Nate examined the rather spirited Brigadier and laughed when the stallion tried to nip him.

  “He looks fine to me,” Nate drawled as they walked outside and stood near the fence next to Sherrie. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a check. “Have we got a deal?” he asked.

  Tessa felt numb inside, but shoved her worries out of her mind. “We will as soon as we sign the papers. Everything’s in the house.”

  “I want to stay out here,” Sherrie declared as her father turned toward the front door. “With my Red Wing.”

  “All right, dumplin’,” Nate replied. “Just make sure you stay on this side of the fence.”

  “I will.” Clucking her tongue softly and calling to Red Wing, Sherrie climbed the rails and peeked through. Aside from the flick of her pointed ears and the swish of her tail against a few bothersome flies, the mare didn’t move.

  The house was cool inside. Tessa led Nate to the study and sat behind the desk so recently vacated by Denver. She could smell his after-shave in the air.

  Nate scribbled his signature on the bill of sale for each horse. “So where’s McLean?” he asked, pushing the paperwork across the desk.

  “In Helena,” Tessa replied. “He should be back soon.”

  “How much longer is he planning to stay around here?”

  “I—I don’t know,” Tessa answered quickly.

  “Probably not too long. He couldn’t wait to move away from here before. The fire just gave him a head start.”

  “I suppose,” Tessa said woodenly.

  “Well, this should make it easier for him,” Nate said, thumping the paperwork with one thick finger. “Now that you’ve got the down payment on the ranch, he can take off for the bright lights of L.A.”

  “Right.” Tessa wasn’t about to think of impending departure. Not today. Not when she was giving up Brigadier and the mares for the sole purpose of buying a ranch Denver had no use for.

  By the time she and Nate returned to the paddock, Len had loaded the mares into the trailer and Brigadier was being led across the yard by one of the younger hands. Brigadier nickered when he noticed Tessa and tossed his magnificent head as he pranced up the incline to the trailer. He barely favored his right foreleg.

  Tessa’s throat grew hot and thick and her eyes misted. Feeling like a traitor, she turned toward Sherrie just as Curtis hobbled across the yard.

  “Howdy, there,” he called to Sherrie. He tipped his hat and his weathered face cracked into a broad smile.

  Sherrie squinted up at him. “Who’re you?” she demanded.

  Curtis chuckled. “Well, now, I could be askin’ you the same question, couldn’t I?”

  “I’m Sherrie!” the little sprite said proudly, folding chubby arms across her chest.

  Curtis glanced up at Nate. “You must be proud of this one.”

  “I am,” Nate agreed, his gold tooth flashing as he scooped Sherrie from the ground.

  “I want to ride Red Wing!” Sherrie cried.

  “Later,” her father said.

  “That’s what you always say,” Sherrie pouted, staring longingly at the mare.

  “You’ll have plenty of time.” Nate turned to Tessa. “You come and visit the horses anytime you like.”

  “And teach me to ride!” Sherrie commanded.

  “I will,” Tessa promised.

  “Thanks a lot,” Nate said, clasping Tessa’s hand, “and good luck.”

  “You, too. Take good care of them,” Tessa replied, despite the fact that the back of her eyes burned and her throat seemed nearly swollen shut with hot tears.

  “I will.” He nodded at Tessa’s father. “See ya around.”

  Nate climbed into the cab of his truck and rammed it into gear.

  Standing in the middle of the yard, Tessa watched as the rig carrying her precious horses rolled slowly down the lane in a plume of dry dust.

  “You didn’t have to sell them,” Curtis said softly.

  She refused to cry, though she felt a part of her had left in that trailer. “Of course I did. How else was I supposed to pay for this place?” she asked, dashing back the lingering tears in her eyes. Sniffing, her eyes red-rimmed, she faced her father.

  “No one put a gun to your head, Tessa. Neither Mitch nor I—nor Denver McLean for that matter—expected you to buy the ranch.” He slung an arm across her shoulders and hugged her. “I’m proud of you, y’know. But you shouldn’t carry the world on your shoulders.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Don’t you?” He cocked his head toward the lane and Nate’s truck and trailer. “You could take a lesson or two from Paula Edwards.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning being mistress of your own hou
se—raising me a passel of grandkids.”

  Tessa thought about the baby she might be carrying. What would her father say? Surely he would figure out that the child was sired by Denver. She steered her thoughts clear of such dangerous ground and said, “So where were you during the women’s movement?”

  “Right here watchin’ ’em burn their bras and what-have-you, protestin’ and carryin’ on. And all the time I’m wonderin’ why they don’t have the sense to know a good thing when they see it.”

  “I guess it depends on your perspective,” Tessa said, squinting. Nate’s rig turned away from the lane and rumbled out of view.

  “All I know is that I’m almost seventy and haven’t got one grandson to ride on my knee.”

  “Talk to Mitchell,” she advised.

  “I already have. But you—you’re the one who should be thinking about settlin’ down.”

  “I’ll remember that,” she said dryly, her lips pressed together.

  “And I’m not talking about Denver McLean.”

  “Give me some credit, Dad. I know how you feel about Denver, and I know how Mitch feels about him.” Besides, she thought, he hasn’t asked me.

  “And what about you?” her father asked gently, touching her shoulder. “How do you feel about him?”

  “Denver’s an enigma,” she whispered, her voice catching.

  “You think you’re in love with him again,” her father deduced, sighing loudly. “And don’t deny it. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I don’t hate him, if that’s what you mean.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it, Tess. But there’s just no reason for you to go pining for the likes of Denver McLean.”

  “I’m not pining for anyone.”

  “Good,” he said, sounding unconvinced. He swatted at a yellow jacket buzzing near his head. “I guess I’d better see if Mitch needs some help with the combine.”

  Relieved that the conversation was over, Tessa walked through the back porch and into the kitchen, which smelled of spices and simmering meat. Milly was busy ladling gravy over pot roast.

  “Denver with you?” she asked, without looking up.

  “He’s still in town.”

  “Well, if he gets back after I leave, tell him to call that partner of his.”

  “Van Stern?”

  “Right. He called a half hour ago. Left a message. Denver’s to call him immediately.” She paused to look over her shoulder. “He sounded real upset.”

  “About what?”

  “Didn’t say, but I gathered it was important.”

  Great, Tessa thought, frowning to herself. Now what?

  Chapter Eleven

  Tessa flung off the covers, snatched her robe from the foot of the bed and glared at the clock. Four-thirty. She’d gone to bed at eleven and hadn’t slept a wink.

  Where was Denver? she wondered. Still in Helena? Cinching her belt tightly around her waist, she walked to her open window. Streaks of gray rimmed the mountains surrounding the valley floor, casting the buildings of the ranch into black shadows. In a few days, she realized, these old buildings, the equipment, the acres of land and the cattle and horses would all be hers.

  If the bank approved the loan.

  If Denver located Colton.

  If she could stand to stay here without Denver.

  “If, if, if,” she said to herself as she hurried downstairs and thought about her future—a future without Denver.

  She heard Marsha mewing at the back door. “I’m coming,” she called, unlatching the lock and opening the door a crack as the old cat trotted to her milk dish. “So where’re your babies, hmm?” Tessa asked as the calico rubbed against her bare leg. “Still hidden?”

  Marsha mewed loudly again and followed Tessa into the kitchen. After starting coffee, Tessa poured some milk into a clean dish and set it on the back porch. “There you go, girl,” she whispered, petting the cat’s arched back.

  The sound of a car’s engine cut through the early-morning stillness. Denver!

  Clutching the lapels of her robe together, Tessa hurried outside. Denver parked the rental near the garage, and Tessa ran down the path barefoot. She reached the car just as he opened the door and stretched out.

  He looked as if he hadn’t slept in the two days he’d been gone. His jaw was dark with shadow, his eyes sunk deep into his head and the lines near his mouth seemed to have deepened.

  “I thought you’d be asleep,” he said when she flung her arms around his neck.

  “I couldn’t. I missed you,” she said in a rush, glad just to be in his arms again.

  His hands clasped behind her back and he held her close, his breath fanning across her hair. “I missed you, too,” he admitted. “Maybe I should leave more often.”

  “Maybe you should stay.” She could hear his heart drumming, feel the warmth of his body surround her. A slight breeze, cool from the night, played with her hair and ruffled his.

  “Van Stern caught up with me. He needs me in L.A.”

  “He called here, too.”

  “I know. There’s a problem with a project at work.”

  “So that’s why you came back,” Tessa said, disappointed.

  “That, and the fact that I couldn’t let you off the hook. You owe me, Kramer.”

  Cocking her head to look up at him, she asked, “Owe you what?”

  His teeth gleamed in the dark. “A trip to L.A.”

  Tessa groaned. “I hoped you’d forgotten.”

  “No way. A bet’s a bet.” His arms tightened around her. “I’ve come to collect.”

  “Now?”

  “Now. Get ready. We’re leaving in”—he checked his watch—“less than an hour.”

  “But I can’t—” she said, suddenly panicked. Though she longed to go with him, this was too soon. She couldn’t just abandon the ranch—a ranch she’d worked so hard for. Nor could she leave her family for the sake of a whim ... or a bet.

  “Sure you can. I’ve already bought the airline tickets. Come on, Tess, it’s only a few days.” He took her face between his hands, forced her to stare up at him, and the laughter died in his eyes. “Come with me, Tessa. See how I live—stay with me.”

  Her throat closed. Hadn’t he asked her once before to leave this ranch and follow him to Los Angeles? On the afternoon of the fire, he’d begged her to go with him, and then seven years later he’d told her that the love they’d shared, the love she’d cherished, had meant nothing to him.

  “I have responsibilities,” she said, her voice husky. She tried to take a step backward, but his arms were strong and unmoving, his features set.

  “So do I. In L.A.”

  “But—”

  “I’m not asking for a lifetime commitment,” he reminded her, and her heart wrenched. If only you were, Denver.

  His gaze delved deep into hers and she felt herself drowning in the liquid warmth. “It’s payoff time, Tessa.”

  “Why now? What’s this all about?”

  The teasing light disappeared from his eyes. His skin tightened over his cheekbones, pulling taut, stretching over now-invisible scars. She sensed something had gone wrong—horribly wrong. She felt suddenly cold inside.

  “Colton gave the P.I. the slip. He’s not in Northern Ireland— or at least he’s not where Ross’s private investigator thought he was.” He squinted against the rising sun. Golden rays touched his face, but his features remained strained. “The investigator thinks he’s in trouble. Big trouble.”

  “Isn’t he always?”

  Denver shrugged. “Probably. But I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he murmured, almost to himself. “If Colton needs to reach me, he’ll try to get hold of me in L.A.”

  “Why would he want to get in touch with you now?”

  “Because of the private investigator—because of John’s death—”

  “He didn’t care about John.”

  “It’s just a feeling I have,” Denver whispered, and a shiver darted down Tessa’s spi
ne. “There’s been a lot of trouble in Northern Ireland—a lot of unrest.”

  “There has been for years.”

  “But lately—” He shrugged, as if to shake off a sense of foreboding.

  “What good would it do for me to come to L.A.?” she asked.

  “I need you,” he said, wincing a little, as if the words actually hurt. Exhaling slowly, he added, “Besides, you and I are at an impasse, Tessa. I think it’s time we found out a little more about each other.”

  “And we have to do that in California?”

  “Yes.”

  She studied the tired lines of his face, the tiny inflexible lines near his mouth, his black hair, falling fetchingly over his forehead. “And who will run this ranch?”

  “Your father.”

  Inside, Tessa panicked. Though she was loath to admit it, she was afraid to leave the ranch in Curtis’s hands. What if something went wrong? What if there were another accident? Dear God, what if he really had caused the fire all those years before? “I just can’t.”

  “Mitch will be around to help him.”

  “Mitch is getting ready to go to college in Seattle.”

  “He’s not leaving for a few more weeks. I’m only talking about a couple of days.” He touched her tenderly on the cheek. “I need you, Tess,” he said again, and he didn’t have to say another word.

  Within twenty minutes, Denver had showered, shaved and changed. Tessa threw a couple pairs of slacks, two cotton sweaters, a pair of shorts, T-shirts and a skirt into her old suitcase, then dressed in a billowing white skirt and pink sleeveless blouse. She plaited her hair into a French braid and snapped on small gold earrings and a matching necklace before meeting Denver downstairs.

  “Do I look So Cal?” she asked, her dimple showing a bit.

  “If that stands for sensational.”

  “Southern California,” she said, laughing. There was something exhilarating and carefree about taking off with Denver and leaving the worries of the ranch behind. Even Denver’s concerns for his brother seemed far removed. “Come on. We don’t want to keep the Beach Boys waiting.” With a wink, she breezed out the back door.

  Denver locked it behind him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he accused, tossing her suitcase into the trunk of his rental car as she slid into the passenger seat.