Backlash

by Lisa Jackson

Denver pinned Curtis with a cool glance. “So now you’re a fan of Cassie Aldridge?”

  “The girl knows her stuff,” Curtis said.

  “And her father?”

  He snorted. “Him I could live without.”

  “Enough,” Tessa insisted. “Let’s not spoil all this.” She slipped into the box.

  “I don’t know if this is such a good idea,” Denver said, turning his attention on his wife, but, as usual, when it came to horses, she ignored him and stroked Red Wing’s soft muzzle.

  “It’s okay,” Tessa said, either to Denver or to the horse. Colton couldn’t tell which.

  Denver’s gaze slid to his brother, and he eyed Colton’s suit. “Going somewhere?”

  “To Nate and Paula Edwards’s party. You’re invited, too.”

  Tessa gasped. “I’d forgotten all about it!”

  Denver frowned at his pregnant wife. “It’s been a long day—”

  “Don’t you try to weasel out of it,” she warned, eyeing him over her shoulder. “I promised Paula months ago!”

  Denver’s scowl deepened. “I thought pregnant women were supposed to slow down.”

  She laughed gaily. “Well, I guess you thought wrong. Paula’s pregnant, too, you know.”

  Colton couldn’t swallow the smile that pulled on the corners of his mouth. He loved watching Tessa bully Denver. No one else had ever been able to tell his mule-headed brother anything, but Tessa, half his size and as clever as a fox, had managed to wrap Denver McLean around her little finger.

  Denver, disconcerted, sighed. “Maybe we should look at the other animals. How’s Black Magic?”

  “Better. But Tempest’s just not snapping out of it as quickly,” Curtis muttered, running a leathery hand around his neck and squinting thoughtfully. “Why don’t you two get changed, have a cup of Milly’s coffee, then we’ll take a look?”

  “Let’s just do it now,” Denver said impatiently.

  Tessa could barely tear herself away from Red Wing and the new foal, but Denver convinced her.

  Inside the old foaling shed, Denver studied Black Magic, Tempest and the buckskin yearling, who was improving, though slowly.

  Tessa’s face fell, her expression becoming dark. “Denver thinks this happened when Black Magic was stolen,” she said, her fingers gripping the top rail of the stall so tightly her knuckles blanched white.

  Colton whispered, “So do I.”

  She glanced up at him, then to Denver, who was talking with Curtis at the far end of the shed, near Tempest’s stall. “But he thinks someone did it on purpose.”

  “You don’t?”

  “I can’t imagine it. Hurting innocent animals to get back at us?” She shook her head, and her hair shone pure gold under the artificial lights. “No way. No one around here is that mean.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Colton said, glancing to where Denver stood staring in frustration at Tempest. Grim lines creased Denver’s forehead, and his fists had curled angrily. “I hope to God you’re right.”

  Chapter Twelve

  By the time Colton knocked on the front door, Cassie had already been waiting fifteen minutes. She flew down the stairs, the skirt of her silk dress billowing behind her like a trailing scarlet cloud.

  At the door she paused, took in a long, steadying breath, then turned the knob.

  Colton stood under the porch light. His dark hair gleamed, and he looked totally uncomfortable in a dark gray suit, starched white shirt and crimson tie. If not for the jaded glint in his eyes and the cynical twist of his lips, she might not have believed this dashing man to be the irreverent rogue of her dreams.

  “Are you ready for this?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest as he surveyed her from head to toe.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she quipped, though a nervous knot tightened in her stomach as she reached in the closet for her long black coat. She felt self-conscious with her hair twined away from her face in delicate French braids, her silk dress much more sophisticated than any she’d ever owned, her impractical high-heeled shoes.

  Outside, the spring night was warm. A warm wind stole through the shadows, rushing around the corners of the buildings and soughing through the trees. Stars winked brightly, and beams from a half-moon washed the earth in blue-gray incandescence.

  “Don’t you have to say goodbye to your father?” Colton asked.

  She shook her head. “Already did.”

  “He’s not going? I thought every rancher in a four-county area was invited.”

  Cassie settled one shoulder against the passenger door. “He’s staying with Sylvia, who’s due to drop her foal anytime.”

  Colton didn’t respond as he drove onto the main highway and turned west. They rode in silence until the Edwards’s ranch came into view. One of the largest spreads in the state, Nate Edwards’s ranch sprawled as far as the eye could see. The house, a plantation-style home that looked as if it belonged in Virginia, stood in stark relief against the black night. With white siding, brick facing, bow windows and blue shutters, the Edwards’s home rose three full stories and was ablaze with lights. Cars, pickups and four-wheel drive rigs lined the circular drive.

  “I guess I’d better warn you,” Colton said as he parked, “Denver and Tessa got home today. They’ll be here.”

  Though she felt a nervous jolt at the thought of meeting Colton’s judgmental older brother, she tossed her head. “Why the warning?”

  “Denver can be—”

  “I know how Denver can be,” she shot back. “A lot like you.” With a sweet smile, she opened her side of his Jeep and stepped outside. She heard Colton’s chuckle and pretended that her nerves weren’t stretched tight.

  Colton caught up with her on the brick steps just as she rang the bell. Laughter and conversation sifted through the closed windows.

  Colton tucked his arm around her waist. “You know,” she said, hearing footsteps approaching, “I thought you were avoiding me.”

  “Never.” He squeezed her, and she couldn’t help but grin.

  “You haven’t been around the ranch lately.”

  “Because of Denver. I had to talk to his attorney in Helena and get a few things ready ... besides,” he glanced down at her, and the hand against the small of her back felt suddenly warm, “I thought you wanted a little time to think things through.”

  “I did—”

  The door flew open, and Paula Edwards, her red hair piled high on her head, abdomen protruding roundly, waved them inside. “Colton and Cassie! Come in, come in. Here, Nate, take Cassie’s coat.”

  A burly, muscular man whose dark hair was shot with gray, Nate Edwards was fifteen years older than his young wife. He sported a gold-capped tooth and a recently added mustache. Wearing a western-cut suit and string tie, he reached for Cassie’s coat and hung it in the closet. “How’re things going?” he asked Colton.

  “Better. Denver got back today.”

  “So now you can take off again, eh?” Nate asked, clapping Colton on the back. “You never were one to sit around much.”

  Colton slid a heart-stopping glance to Cassie. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

  “Sure you have,” Nate agreed with a throaty chuckle. “I’ll believe that when palm trees sprout in the Rockies. Come on in and let me buy you a drink.” He led them into a huge living room where other guests mingled and sipped from tulip-shaped glasses. Quiet conversation was muted by the sound of music drifting from an adjoining room.

  “Champagne or Scotch?”

  Colton glanced sideways at his host.

  “Scotch,” Nate decided, taking his place as bartender at a mirrored bar and pouring Cassie a glass of champagne. He handed them their respective drinks, then tugged at the strings surrounding his throat. “Damned things. I don’t know why Paula insists we dress up.”

  “It’s just her way of keeping you in line,” Cassie teased, sipping from her glass.

  “I s’pose. Sure is a bother, though.” Nate poured himself a stiff shot and
took a swallow. “Sorry to hear about all your trouble with Black Magic. A damned shame, that’s what it is. Lost twice in two years and now strangles. Sometimes ranchin’ can be a real bitch.” He shook his head and smoothed his hair.

  Cassie stiffened, expecting Colton to argue about the horse being stolen, instead he just nodded affably, though his jaw was clamped tight.

  The doorbell pealed, and Nate, catching Paula’s eye, finished his drink quickly. “Duty calls,” he muttered, sauntering toward the foyer and leaving Colton and Cassie in a room crowded with neighboring ranchers and townspeople.

  Cassie knew almost everyone. She smiled and waved, made small talk and mingled. Colton didn’t leave her for a minute. More than a few people glanced their way, and some of the ranchers’ smiles seemed forced. She felt hateful undercurrents in the air.

  Matt Wilkerson’s lips had flattened at the sight of Colton, and Vince Monroe’s smile had fallen from his face.

  Then Cassie saw Jessica Monroe sliding Colton secretive glances.

  Jessica’s blond hair spilled over her shoulders in luxurious waves, and her white satin-and-lace dress seemed almost bridal. She sipped champagne, giggled and kept her arm looped through Ryan Ferguson’s, though her gaze wandered over the crowd and lingered on Colton. Colton didn’t seem to notice.

  “Cassie!” Beth Simpson waved from the far side of the room. She’d already kicked off her shoes and was seated in an apricot-colored velvet chair. Her dress, a billowing amber-and-yellow print, spilled over her distended belly.

  Glad to see a friendly face, Cassie waved back and wound her way through the knots of people to her friend. “I thought you were supposed to be in the hospital,” she said, remembering the gossip she’d heard in town. “What’re you doing here?”

  “Waiting for my water to break,” Beth grumbled. “I did go into County General, but it was false labor. I felt like a fool, too, since this”—she tapped her abdomen—“isn’t my first.”

  “Well, you fit right in,” Cassie observed just as Denver and Tessa walked into the room. Tessa looked absolutely radiant. Her face was glowing; her strawberry-blond hair shimmered under the dimmed lights. “It looks like we’ve got an epidemic of pregnant ladies,” she joked.

  Beth laughed, but Cassie’s eyes were drawn to Colton’s older brother. Denver was as handsome as ever. Even though he’d suffered several plastic surgeries after the fire, he was as ruggedly good-looking as Colton. He never left Tessa’s side as they wended through the crowd.

  A few faces turned his way, and a few people exchanged meaningful glances. Ryan Ferguson noticed him and stopped dancing with Jessica. Hatred seemed to radiate from his body, and he took a step forward, but Jessica’s hand restrained him.

  Denver didn’t seem to notice.

  Tessa spied Colton and Cassie and, dragging her recalcitrant husband behind her, made a beeline across the room. Colton shifted closer to Cassie, keeping one arm around her waist as Tessa joined them. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said breathlessly, her hazel eyes shining on Cassie. “Dad says you single-handedly delivered Red Wing’s colt.”

  “Not so single-handedly. Red Wing did all the work, and Colton helped.”

  “Did you?” Tessa arched one fine brow at her brother-in-law.

  “I just took orders,” Colton clarified.

  “That I’d like to see!” Tessa said, giggling as Denver, standing behind her, wrapped possessive arms around her thick waist.

  “I guess I owe you, too,” Denver conceded, though he didn’t smile and his blue eyes were dead serious. “You managed to save Black Magic and a couple of others.”

  “We all did.” Cassie started to relax, but she felt Colton’s muscles stiffen. “Hopefully you won’t have any other cases.”

  Denver’s eyes narrowed. “What about the other ranchers in the valley. Has anyone else had a problem?”

  Cassie bristled, taking the hint. “None that I know of.” When Denver didn’t seem convinced, she added, “Craig and I talked about it—since strangles is so contagious. He’s afraid that Black Magic linked up with some wild horses who have the disease.”

  “Just let me know if you hear of any other cases,” Denver said before Tessa sent him a killing look.

  “You, husband dear, have a one-track mind. Cassie didn’t come here to discuss her work and, except to thank her for helping out at our ranch, neither did I. Let’s dance.”

  “Good idea,” Colton added as Tessa linked her fingers with her husband’s. She led Denver toward an adjoining room that had been cleared of furniture. The oak floor had been polished to a golden shine, and a few couples were gliding over the gleaming parquet.

  “No dancing for me,” Beth said as Colton cupped Cassie’s elbow.

  Cassie chuckled despite Denver’s pointed remarks. “Maybe it’s just what you need to convince that baby to come into the world.”

  “The baby’s not the problem,” Beth replied as her husband, balancing two platters of food joined them, “my feet are!”

  “Come on,” Colton whispered into Cassie’s ear. He tugged on her arm and guided her through a wide arch. Folding her expertly into his arms, he held her close, moving to the soft strains of a slow tune. Other couples swirled around them, but Colton didn’t seem to notice. “If I haven’t said it before, you look sensational.”

  “Thanks.” She colored under his compliment and felt the warm whisper of his breath against her bare nape. “I feel ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “This”—she looked down at her dress—“is out of character for me.”

  “You can’t run around in jeans and lab coats all the time.”

  “Oh, and you’re comfortable?” She arched her black brows, daring him to lie.

  “As long as you’re in my arms,” he shot back, his steely eyes glinting wickedly.

  “Where’d you read that?”

  “I didn’t. I saw it in some movie.”

  “Figures.” She laughed, and they danced together, oblivious of the crowd or anything but each other. Colton swirled her and held her, and she forgot the hostility she’d felt when they’d first joined the party.

  Laughing, she danced with him, held him, felt his lips press kisses against her hair until she thought she would drop. “I think we could use a break,” he murmured against her ear.

  “Amen.”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  She nodded and started to follow him to the bar, when she spied Craig talking with a tall, slender man she didn’t recognize. Craig had one hand tucked in the pockets of his slacks, the other wrapped around a half-filled old fashioned glass. He caught her eye and waved her over.

  Without waiting for Colton, she skirted the dancing couples and joined the two men. “Wonderful party,” she said, smiling. “I’m glad you talked me into coming.”

  Craig chuckled. “Maybe next time I won’t have to put a gun to your head.”

  Rolling her eyes, Cassie conceded, “Okay, okay. I was wrong.”

  “Now that that’s settled, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine.” He indicated the tall, slender man next to him. “This is Frank Belmont—Dr. Frank Belmont. We went to school together. Frank’s got a clinic downstate. Cassie works with me—I think she plans to buy me out in the next couple of years.”

  Cassie smiled. “Maybe around 2030 when you’re ready to retire.”

  “I’ll keep you to it.” He swirled his drink and sobered. “Frank saw another case of strangles a few weeks ago,” he said.

  Cassie’s eyes flew to the other man. “Where?”

  The two men exchanged glances. “Around here,” Craig explained. “One of Vince Monroe’s mares. She was quarantined.”

  “But why didn’t he call us . . .” she asked, already knowing the answer. Then they would have known that Vince had been involved in Black Magic’s disappearance. An odd mixture of relief and fear coursed through her. Relief that Vince Monroe was most likely the culprit and fear that her father was
involved. He and Vince had become thick as thieves lately. Her stomach turned over.

  “I asked Vince about it earlier,” Craig said, frowning into his drink.

  “And?”

  “He said he’d called, couldn’t get through and stopped by but we were closed. He knew Frank and called him.”

  “We have an emergency number,” Cassie pointed out.

  “I know.”

  Cassie searched the room, but the towering form of Vince Monroe wasn’t in sight. “Where is he?”

  Craig lifted a shoulder. “Maybe he already left. It is getting late.”

  “Speaking of which, I’d better get going,” Frank said. “It’s a long drive home.”

  Cassie spied Colton leaning against the bar, his tie loose, his eyes filled with amusement as he stared at her. He hooked a finger in her direction and held up a tall glass of champagne.

  Her heart turned over as she moved through the groups of people, and she wanted nothing more than to tell him about Vince Monroe, but she couldn’t, not until she had more substantial proof. She wasn’t going to accuse anyone before her facts were straight. If Colton had taught her anything eight years ago, it was to listen to all sides before hurling accusations.

  “Talking shop?” he asked once she was close enough to hear.

  “Umm.” She accepted the glass from his hand and didn’t protest when he wrapped one arm around her.

  “Well, enough of that,” he whispered in her ear, sending delicious tingling sensations down her spine. “We have more important things to do.”

  “Such as?”

  “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously, and Cassie silently agreed. She had lots to do. As Colton took her hand and pulled her toward the dance floor, she spied Jessica Monroe leaving with Ryan Ferguson, and she wondered if Jessica or Ryan or both were involved with Vince. Or—worse yet—her father.

  Hours later, when the guests began to leave, Cassie found Paula and thanked her, while Colton located her coat and slipped it over her shoulders. The tips of his fingers grazed her bare arms, and she shivered a little.

  Outside, the night was surprisingly warm. Only a few clouds dared creep across the moon. A mild breeze caught in Cassie’s hair and snatched at her skirt as she hurried to the Jeep.