by Lisa Jackson
But her throat was clogged with nagging doubts, and her mind wouldn’t quit spinning with misgivings. The coldness that had started in her stomach chilled her heart as well. Oh, please, she cried inwardly, let me be wrong!
She took several bracing breaths, knowing what she had to do. Dread mounting with each step, she ran to her truck, found her veterinary bag, then headed back to the barn. She didn’t like the idea of taking a vial of blood from a newborn colt, but she had to know the truth. And she had to know it soon.
And then what? What if you find out your father’s been lying to you? Her legs threatened to give out on her, and she had to force herself onward.
At the door of the barn she paused, glancing down at her left hand. The diamond ring twinkled in the night, and she wondered if she’d made a gigantic mistake in not telling Colton.
“Too late now,” she whispered pragmatically, and shoved the door to the barn open again.
* * *
Colton didn’t drive back to the ranch. He was too keyed up. That foal—that new little Aldridge horse—had to have been sired by Black Magic. Cassie had seen the resemblance, too. Only a blind man wouldn’t have recognized Black Magic’s genes in the little ebony colt.
“Damn it all to hell!” he ground out, instinctively driving toward the hills. He couldn’t ignore this—act like he didn’t know. Obviously Ivan Aldridge had stolen Black Magic a year ago and bred his mare, Sylvia, to him. He must have stolen him again this year, and this time the horse could’ve died.
The Jeep hurtled off the main highway and up the twisting road leading to Garner’s Ridge and the old ghost town. Once there, he climbed out of his rig and walked the desolate main street. But he didn’t see the decrepit buildings, sagging porches or broken windows. No, each time he looked down that street, he envisioned Cassie. Cassie pointing the barrel of a gun at his chest, Cassie mussed and soiled as she pulled Red Wing’s foal into the world, Cassie laughing, moonlight caressing her face as she rode the feisty little Lamont, Cassie as a girl, seductive and innocent, the lake lapping around her legs, and Cassie now, a woman, her throat clogged as she accepted his mother’s ring, her eyes glittering with tears of happiness.
He kicked at a stone, sending it richocheting along the remains of a boardwalk, and wished he could just leave Montana and forget her. But the thought of chasing stories in war-torn countries held no allure for him. In fact, a life spent searching for the next front-page story seemed like exile. “Oh, Cassie, Cassie,” he murmured, wondering how he’d ever become so maudlin, “what am I going to do with you? Just what the hell am I going to do with you?” He dropped his head into his hands.
By the time he finally left Garner’s Ridge, the night was beginning to disappear as the eastern sky grew light. He turned into the lane of the McLean Ranch and caught a glimpse of cattle, white-faced Herefords, moving slowly through one field. This wasn’t such a bad place, he realized with a jolt that rocked him to his very soul. He could find happiness here—and peace—as long as he could leave when he felt the urge. As long as Cassie was by his side.
He parked near the garage and had barely stepped out of his Jeep when Denver, nostrils flared, blue eyes angry, strode up to him. Still wearing suit pants and white shirt from the party, Denver didn’t mince words. “Where the hell have you been?”
“Out.”
“All hell’s broken loose. Tempest died two hours ago.”
Sickening bile filled Colton’s stomach. He thought of the ornery stallion, and his throat constricted. “No—”
“It happened.”
“Damn, how?”
“Pneumonia.”
“But just yesterday he was better—much better.” He couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t.
“That was yesterday. Last night he took a turn for the worse. By the time Curtis found him, he was too far gone.”
“But the antibiotics—”
“Failed!” Denver’s dark skin was white, the lines near his mouth deep grooves.
Colton’s anger turned inward. He was the one who lost Black Magic, and he’d suspected all along who’d taken the beast. Ivan Aldridge. His soon-to-be father-in-law. “Sweet Lord,” he whispered.
“That’s not all.”
Colton’s head snapped up.
“By the time Curtis got hold of Craig Fulton, it was too late for Tempest.”
“Fulton examined him?”
“That’s right.” Denver’s eyes were dark with rage, though there was a tenderness akin to pity as he stared at his younger brother. “And he made a strange remark—one I think you should hear. He said he’d talked to another veterinarian at the Edwards’s party, and that guy knew someone up here with a horse infected with strangles.”
Every muscle in Colton’s body went rigid. “Go on.”
“Seems Vince Monroe had a horse come down with it right before Black Magic got the disease.”
“Monroe?” God, was it possible? Was he wrong about Aldridge? “The funny thing is, Craig already told Cassie Aldridge about it.”
Colton didn’t move. “When?”
“Last night—at the party.” The skin on Denver’s face had drawn tight. “She say anything to you?”
“No.”
“Strange, isn’t it?”
Colton’s lungs constricted. Oh, Cassie—oh, love! Why hadn’t she told him?
As if reading Colton’s thoughts, Denver sighed. Some of the anger left his face. “If it’s any consolation, I think she’s protecting someone—maybe Monroe, maybe her father. They’re pretty tight these days. Let’s go see what she has to say.”
“And Monroe?”
“I’ve already called the sheriff’s office. A deputy’s on his way to the Monroe place right now. And there’s a quarantine on his horses.”
“I think I’d better handle this myself.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Not this time!”
“But—”
“Denver!” Tessa’s voice cried out through the early dawn. Colton turned to see her grab hold of a post supporting the porch while her other arm wrapped around her stomach, and she bent over, wincing.
“What—?” Denver spun on his heel, his face draining of color.
“The baby,” she cried, forcing a brave smile, though her face was twisted in pain.
“But it’s not time!” He was racing across the yard and up the steps in long strides. When he reached the porch, he surrounded her with his arms. “I knew we shouldn’t have gone to that party,” he grumbled. “Are you all right?”
She forced a brave smile, but another contraction hit her full force, and she clung to her husband, eyes squeezing shut, her mouth pressed into his chest to muffle her cry.
Colton saw fear on Denver’s face and felt a pang of his own. Tessa’s baby wasn’t due for another six weeks. “I’ll drive you to the hospital,” he said, but Denver was already shepherding Tessa toward his car.
“I’ll handle this! Come on, Tessa . . .” His jaw was rigid as he helped her into the car, then climbed behind the wheel and took off.
Colton stood in the middle of the yard for a second, then climbed back into his Jeep. Bone-tired, he let out the clutch. Why hadn’t Cassie told him about the strangles at the Monroe ranch? Why had she wanted so desperately to deny that Sylvia’s raven black colt was sired by Black Magic? To protect her father? Somehow Ivan was involved, and Cassie cared so little about Colton that she couldn’t confide in him. His boot pressed hard against the throttle.
* * *
Cassie didn’t sleep a wink, but watched as dawn turned the sky gray and she heard her father in the kitchen below. She listened as Erasmus barked to be let out and watched through the window as her father, his shoulders stooped, made his way to the broodmare barn.
With a heavy heart she climbed out of the bed, showered, stepped into faded jeans and brushed her hair into a sleek ponytail. “It’s now or never,” she told her reflection, and she steeled herself for what was to come.
&n
bsp; In the kitchen she poured herself a cup of coffee and waited at the table. She heard her father’s heavy step on the back porch, and her heart turned over.
Her cup of coffee, untouched, was cradled between her hands, as if to give her warmth as he walked in. From the stoop of his shoulders and the lines near his eyes, she guessed he’d slept no better than she.
“’Mornin’, Cassie,” he muttered, not bothering to remove his hat or boots. “There’s something I think we should talk about.”
The lump in her throat swelled. “Does it have to do with the new foal?”
“What d’ya mean?”
Her fingers shook as she opened her veterinary bag and withdrew two purple vials of blood. “These,” she replied, her voice the barest of whispers. “One of them is from the new colt, the other from Devil Dancer.”
Her father sucked in his breath. “I see.”
“Later, I thought I’d go to the McLean Ranch and take a sample from Black Magic. Even though I cannot prove who the foal’s sire is, I can prove which horse isn’t the father.”
Dropping his head into one hand, Ivan whispered, “You already know.”
So it was true. Her stomach quaked. “Oh, Dad, why?” she cried, tears filling her eyes. She heard the rumble of a truck in the drive, and she knew instinctively that Colton had returned. What could she say to him? How would she explain? Setting her cup on the table, she noticed Katherine’s ring on her finger. Her lungs and eyes burned.
“I did it for you,” Ivan said.
“Me?” she cried. “No . . .”
He studied his thumb. “It was wrong, I know, but the way I saw it, the McLeans had it coming. All they’d ever caused us—you—was heartache.”
Colton stepped through the door, his jaw set, his eyes blazing.
Ivan didn’t look up. “I wanted the best for you, don’t you see? And I couldn’t afford it. I’d borrowed everything I could to help you through school, to get you away from here and all those memories.”
“Oh, Dad—”
“Vince came to me with a plan—and it wouldn’t really hurt anyone. We’d just borrow the horse, use him to service our mares and then put him back. Improve our herd and give old John McLean fits. It worked, too.”
A muscle jumped in Colton’s jaw, but he didn’t cross the room. He lifted one foot to the seat of a chair and leaned forward, his gaze set on Ivan.
“Then, this year, Vince says we should do it again. I wasn’t too crazy about the idea—John was dead.”
“But I was around,” Colton surmised.
Sighing, Ivan nodded, his neck bowed miserably. “It was a mistake from the beginning. All it did was get you riled up and stomping over here.” He cast the younger man a weary glance. “I wanted to keep you and Cassie apart, but the whole thing backfired.”
“What about the disease?”
Ivan’s old head snapped up. “That was an accident.”
“Was it?”
“Vince brought in a mare he’d bought down south somewhere. She developed a fever right after she’d been bred to Black Magic. That’s when I brought him back.” He glanced at Cassie. “None of our mares had even gotten near him. Thank God.”
“Damn it all to hell, Aldridge, do you hate me that much?” Colton demanded, kicking at the chair and sending it across the room.
“I did.”
“And where did you hide the horses?”
“That was the beauty of Vince’s plan,” Ivan explained. “They never left your land, except for the ride. They were up on the ridge—up in a shack in the old silver mines.”
“You old bastard!” Colton roared.
Cassie couldn’t take her eyes off him. His expression changed from love to hate, to pity, to disbelief. When he turned his gaze her way, she recognized his anger ... and his pain. “You could’ve told me,” he accused. “Last night, Cass. At the party. You knew most of this.”
“I wanted to talk to Dad first.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” Colton muttered. “You never have been able to face me with the truth. You put things off—delude yourself into thinking you’ll confide in me, but you wait until the timing’s right. Well, when would it have been right this time? Today? Tomorrow? Or after the wedding? Tell me, Cassie, were you planning to dupe me again—trap me into marriage?”
“No!” She shook her head vehemently. “No! No! No! You can’t think—”
“I don’t know what to think,” he snarled, his fists curling, his eyes black with fury.
“Leave her be!” Ivan shouted. “She had nothing to do with this! I already called the sheriff’s office. They’re sending a man over.”
“What?” Cassie shrieked, bolting from her chair. “What do you mean?” she demanded.
“It’s over, Cassie,” he said, touching her hair fondly.
“No! Dad, you can’t be serious.” Her eyes flew to Colton’s. “Tell him! Tell him you’re not going to file charges!”
“Tempest died, Cass,” Colton pointed out.
“Leave it alone, Cassie,” Ivan said, ramming his hat on his head and whistling to his old dog. “I can deal with anything comin’ to me.”
“No! I won’t let you! Dad—you’re it. The only family I’ve got. Don’t leave me, too.”
But the door slammed behind him, and he crossed the yard.
She whirled on Colton. “Don’t do this.”
He hesitated.
“Please, it won’t happen again. Look at him, for God’s sake.” She pointed a shaking finger to the window and beyond, to where her father leaned down to scratch Erasmus’s shaggy ears. “He won’t hurt you—he can’t. And ... and as for the damage, I’ll pay you for Tempest and Monroe’s damned stud fees and any other expenses.” She advanced on him, her own eyes burning bright, her fingers struggling with the ring surrounding her finger. “I’ll even pay for the cut fence and the antibiotics, any amount of money you lost, but you can’t, can’t send my father to jail!” The ring slid off, and she slapped it back in his hand. “My father is my family. He sacrificed everything for me, and no matter what he’s done, I’m standing by him.”
“And against me.”
“It doesn’t have to be so black and white,” she said, struggling to keep her voice from shaking. He was leaving her—again. Again he was refusing to listen to reason or any of her explanations. She knew Ivan had been wrong, realized his hatred went much too far, but he’d already suffered. She could see it in his old eyes, and to send him to prison for a crime he’d committed because of her ... It would kill him.
“What about trust?” she asked, her voice shaking as she advanced on Colton.
“You couldn’t trust me last night.”
“I had to have my facts straight.”
“Bah!”
“What about love?”
He blinked. “I always loved you.”
“And now?”
His gaze held hers, and though he didn’t say the words, she could feel the intensity, the love lurking deep in those stormy gray depths. She reached up and curled her fingers into the smooth folds of his leather jacket. “I didn’t lie to you eight years ago, Colton, and I didn’t lie last night. But I do need time and space to work things out in my own mind. I would never manipulate you into marrying me,” she said, blinking back the hot tears. “In fact, if you don’t want me, believe me, I don’t want you.” She pressed his mother’s ring against his palm and closed his fingers over the gold band. “If your love isn’t as strong as this stone, as never-ending as this circle of gold, as complete as the ring itself, then I don’t want you!”
Colton’s breath was a desperate rasp. His eyes locked with hers.
“I won’t have a man who doesn’t love me.”
“Cass—” He tried to fold her into his arms, but she stepped backward.
“I mean it, Colton. All or nothing!”
“I do love you, Cassie,” he said, his voice thick, his words a whisper. “And I can’t imagine living without you.”
>
She waited.
He swallowed, looking down at the ring in his big palm. “There’s been enough hate already,” he said quietly. “Enough pain. Enough loneliness.”
Her knees went weak as he took her hand and placed the ring on her finger. “I love you, Cass,” he said again, caressing her cheek. “No matter what happens, I want you to be my wife.”
A sharp, painful cry escaped from her lips, and she flung her arms around him.
“Marry me.”
“I will,” she vowed, her arms circling his neck, her tears flowing against his chest until he tilted her face to his and kissed her with all the emotions roiling deep in his chest.
“This is forever,” he pointed out.
“It better be!”
* * *
A month later Ivan Aldridge gave his daughter to Colton McLean. The charges against him had been dropped, and despite a nagging feeling that he was losing something dear, Ivan realized stoically that Colton loved Cassie. He’d treat her right.
As a bride, Cassie was radiant. Kneeling in a hundred-year-old church, her ivory-colored gown spilling over ancient boards, she vowed her love for Colton.
Ivan’s old eyes misted.
“You may kiss the bride,” the preacher declared, and standing, Colton took her into his arms, lifted her veil and slanted eager lips over hers. Cassie melted against him. Finally they were together, and nothing, nothing could tear them apart.
Organ music began to throb through the little church, and one small voice, that of Katy McLean, Denver’s four-week-old daughter, rang through the chapel as wedding bells chimed loudly, pealing across the valley and sounding beneath the wide Montana sky.
Mr. and Mrs. Colton McLean walked together along the flower-strewn runner, and as the door opened, they started a life together as bright as the morning sun.
“You’ve done it this time,” Colton said.
“Oh?”
“Now you’ll never get away from me.”
She giggled, holding her skirt up off the dusty porch. “Is that a promise or a threat?”
“Both,” he murmured, taking her into his arms again. Colton felt her heart begin to pound as loudly as his own. Finally, he knew, he’d come home.