The Horseman

by Anna Jeffrey

  The day after Troy’s thirteenth birthday, she had come home from town with a box of condoms, handed them to him and told him to go find his father and discuss what he, Troy, should do with them. He had been mortified.

  In truth, he hadn’t needed a father/son conversation about the birds and the bees. Besides living on a cattle and horse ranch from the time he was eight years old, where animal breeding was the livelihood and cattle and horse breeding in particular was discussed or practiced every day, he had sexually-active big brothers.

  When Mom had handed him the condoms, there wasn’t much left for Dad to tell him about sex and the man wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to lecture Troy on morality.

  Mom was waiting for an answer to her question. Troy was rarely embarrassed by conversations about natural processes even when they applied to human beings. Still, this was his stepmother talking. Warmth crawled up his neck. He shook his head. “No, ma’am, but I don’t pay a lot of attention to what’s going on at the ranch house. I’ve got enough to take care of at my own house.”

  That wasn’t a fib. He disliked the never-ending drama that had always existed at the ranch house and did to this day. He found the atmosphere suffocating, though the house was a sprawling structure. He helped out if they needed an extra hand and he had a standing invitation for meals, but he hadn’t lived there since he left home for college.

  During those college years, he rented an apartment in Stephenville and never really moved back to the ranch house to live permanently. He had needed his own barns and grazing land for the horse rescue and training operation he planned to start after he graduated.

  He had made a substantial amount of money on stock market investments. After all, he had earned a degree in finance and had a knack for picking winners. Using his stock market earnings for seed money, he had started his small business.

  As his rescued horse population expanded, he began to search for land to buy when, to his surprise, the family voted to deed him outright ownership of an old homestead Bill Senior had bought from an estate years back—a quarter-section of grazing land on which sat an old four-bedroom house.

  A Double-Barrel ranch hand with a family had lived there for years. After they moved out, the house had sat vacant for a couple of years. All Troy had to do was remodel it and build barns. As a college graduation present, Drake sent down a designer and a construction crew who built his main barn and turned the house into the rustic sanctuary that Troy loved.

  “Let’s change the subject,” Mom said. “I don’t need a reminder at Christmas that my kids don’t share their lives with me.”

  They discussed the horses he had in training and his successes in the arena. After they finished the meal, his stepmother rose and took their plates. “Time for cake.” She walked over to the layer cake and stared at it a few seconds, then turned to him. “You’d better cut it.”

  “Right.” He got to his feet, walked over to the counter and sliced into the cake. They returned to the table with two plates holding two huge slices. “How are you doing with your clinics?” she asked. “I’ve heard you’ve held several this year all over the place.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I’ve done some traveling. Doing horses a favor, you know.”

  “And your books? Are they still selling well?”

  Published by a small specialty press, the books hadn’t made him much money, but to make money hadn’t been why he had written them. They were teaching books. Seeing how many horse owners misunderstood and even mistreated their horses out of ignorance had driven him to write them. He donated all of his profits from the book sales to his animal rescue foundation. “Yes, ma’am. They’ll probably always sell a little bit. Most people who have horses for pets will never know how to treat them or teach them.”

  “Sounds like you’ve had another successful year. Good for you, Son.” She saluted him with her wine glass.

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s been good. Thank you, Mom.”

  Troy left his stepmother’s house a little after ten. The first thing he did after he settled into the Redstone SUV’s backseat was check his phone for text messages. Nothing else from Sarah. No new message from Jordan Palmer.

  His thoughts drifted to his stepmother. She might finish the bottle of wine they’d had for supper and she might even finish off that bottle of Crown. He sighed. She was an unhappy woman. If Drake weren’t so damn hardheaded, he and Mom could patch things up and she could be a part of her grandkids’ lives.

  Chapter 26

  Sunday morning before dawn, buried deeply under a thick comforter, Amanda felt when Pic left their bed. The bird hunt. Damn. Big breakfast, extra people.

  Smothered by guilt that had been only deepened by Pic’s contrition over their quarrel, she had been in a blue funk since Thursday night. Expected to be the breakfast hostess, though she had been awake half the night, normally she would “cowboy up” like the good wife of one of the Lockhart sons and play the role. She was in no shape for it this morning. She wormed deeper under the comforter, hoping Pic would think she was still asleep.

  The bathroom door closed. The thrum of the shower followed.

  All-night, Chris’s bright smile and beautiful blue eyes had haunted her. Things he had said wouldn’t leave her mind: “...I hate to see it end. As soon as it does, I’ll be moving on. ... This has been good duty for me...”

  What he had declared in the Omni Hotel room tormented her conscience: “...I’ve loved you for a long time, Amanda, since I first saw you with your team ... it’s unethical, against everything I believe ... a serious violation of my company’s policy ...”

  She didn’t deserve this kind of devotion. She had been selfish and unthinking.

  She flashed back to Drake and Shannon’s arrival yesterday. She had hoped having the whole family together would elevate her spirits. Everyone had been in a good mood, had so much Christmas spirit. Everyone except her.

  The bathroom door opened. Oh, hell. Please. Just let me lie in bed and cry.

  Seconds later, she sensed Pic’s presence at the bedside. “Baby? ... You asleep?”

  She mumbled an answer from beneath the comforter. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and lifted the thick cover away from her head, surrounding her with the familiar and pleasant scent of his soap and shampoo. Hollister. She had bought it for him as gifts for a long time. He would have been happy with something off the shelf at Walmart, but she liked Hollister.

  “You gonna be able to have breakfast with us?”

  She couldn’t care less about the damn bird hunt or breakfast with the hunters. “I don’t think so. Who’s going to be here?”

  “Silas and Dusty. Blake. His brother came over from Waco. And Jack and his two boys. They’re home from college for the holidays.”

  If she felt better, she would roll her eyes at that cadre of the most macho men she knew. It was like they all were cut from the same cloth and members of the same damn club. “Do you think everyone will be mad if I just stay here for a while? I didn’t sleep much. I’d like to doze for a little while.”

  “What is it, a cold?”

  “I guess. ... I started feeling bad a couple of days ago.” At least that wasn’t a lie. “I might have a fever,” she added.

  “Maybe you can sleep it off. I’ll tell ’em you’re sick. No big deal.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.

  “Thanks. ... Have fun. And be careful, Pic. Don’t get shot.”

  “Don’t worry.”

  As soon as he cleared the room and closed the door, she threw the covers back, turned over and stared at the ceiling. She squeezed her eyes shut, her brow crinkling tightly enough to cause her pain. This was her fault. She was the one who invited him to lunch, who lured him to the Omni Hotel. He could not have refused her easily. She was his employer indirectly, which only made what she had done more egregious. Not only had she put him at risk of losing his job and his career, she had risked her own marriage.

  If only she could go back to Wednesday ...


  SHANNON FELT DRAKE stir. “Gonna have breakfast with us?” he whispered to her.

  She opened her eyes and glanced at Will sleeping soundly in his playpen, envied him for a few seconds. Mental sigh. She could and would try to nap later. She answered Drake’s question with a grunt then forced herself out of bed.

  Side by side in the bathroom, they brushed their teeth, then stepped into the shower together.

  He had received a text message late last night from Troy, telling him Jordan Palmer had sent several messages. She wished she had never met Jordan.

  The irony of her association with him, followed by her meeting and marrying Drake plagued her. Her sudsy hands glided over her husband’s firm chest and shoulders. “Drake, why would Jordan be sending messages to Troy or to Johnnie Sue? You still haven’t told me details about him or his engagement to your sister.”

  Drake ducked under the shower head, rinsing shampoo from his hair. “Nothing to tell. Kate was a kid in college. He’s ten years older. He seduced her and got engaged to her for some reason. A key to the vault, I suspect. I never believed it was because he loved her.”

  “Why did they break up?”

  “I know you’re not that well acquainted with Kate and she comes across as a little spoiled and headstrong, but she figures things out pretty quickly. She soon saw that Palmer’s a sleaze and broke the engagement.”

  “Is that why you got into a fight with him?”

  “He made Kate unhappy and he wouldn’t leave her alone.”

  “Why would he want to know if Troy’s going to be here for Christmas?”

  “While he was engaged to Kate, he and Troy got acquainted. Through the years, Kate and Troy have been partners in several ventures related to horses. After Palmer no longer had access to Kate, he latched onto Troy. He’s a classic groupie. He was always brown-nosing somebody in the horse crowd.”

  Shannon plugged that information into what she had known about Jordan before she met Drake. She had to agree that he was a phony and maybe even a crook. “It sounds like he’s trying to learn what’s going on with your family for some reason.”

  “I’m going to talk to Marcus and Blake about it this morning while we’re hunting. And just to be safe, I’m going to ask Steve Logan to stick close to you women while we’re out.” He pulled her close and kissed her. “I want all of you to be safe.”

  He urged her out of the shower and wrapped her in a thick bath sheet, rubbing his palm over her belly as he dried her. “How’re you feeling this morning? How’s the baby?”

  “Fine. Will Steve be disappointed not to be able to go hunting?”

  “I don’t know if he likes hunting. I didn’t ask him.”

  “Did Debra get back in touch with you?”

  “Not yet. I’ll follow up this afternoon.”

  Shannon shook her head. “Lord, Drake—”

  “What?”

  “All of this stuff going on at Christmas. Debra’s a saint. I’ll tell you. She deserves a bonus.”

  Drake gave her a quick smack on the lips. “I gave her a check for $10,000 after taxes. How’s that for a bonus?”

  She followed him out of the bathroom, slid her arms around his shoulders, looked into his eyes and said in a whispery voice. “You know what? You’re one of the good guys.”

  They dressed quietly so as not to wake Will. Shannon wore slacks and an oversize sweater and tied her damp hair back with a clip. Without hair products and a flat iron, her hair was a thick thatch of ringlets.

  She was the only other female who met for breakfast in the formal festively-decorated dining room. No surprise that Mandy was a no-show. She hadn’t been at last night’s supper, either, saying she wasn’t feeling well.

  Rarely, if ever, had Shannon been in the company of so many alpha males all at one time. All of them might be yes-ma’amming and deferring to her, but it was an act. For the most part they didn’t give two hoots about her or any other female’s opinion of anything. No two ways about it, the Double-Barrel Ranch was a man’s world. If a woman let herself, she could feel overwhelmed.

  They took seats at the table that was loaded with food—Bill Junior at one end, Drake himself at the other. Shannon took the chair to her husband’s right. The other seven men scattered around the table. Troy straggled in last and plopped into the chair to Drake’s left.

  Drake glanced up at Troy. Last night at supper, everyone had wondered why the youngest brother was absent. “Missed you at supper last night,” Drake said to him.

  “Had a date.”

  “Since when do you date? The steak was outstanding.”

  Bill Junior’s deep voice in his Texas drawl rose above the din. “Since it’s Sunday morning and the season will be upon us in a few days, I believe a prayer of thanksgiving for a year of blessings is in order.” Every head lowered while Bill Junior asked for blessings and safety on the hunt. The man always surprised Shannon. If asked, she wouldn’t have said he was a praying man.

  After he finished, everyone picked up platters and bowls and began to hand food around the table. Johnnie Sue’s helper, Rita, came in and refilled coffee cups. “What do you want to drink?” Drake asked Shannon.

  “I put my apple juice in the refrigerator. I’ll get it.” She started to rise.

  Drake placed a hand on her arm. “No.” He asked Rita to bring Shannon a glass of apple juice.

  Shannon’s neck warmed. She still wasn’t used to having people serve her. “It’s on the top shelf,” she told Rita.

  The room came alive with male voices and talk of guns and knives, of hunts past and the latest hog kill, even some political talk about imported beef, with Drake being an enthusiastic participant. One of them even passed around a huge knife over a foot long for everyone’s examination. Only a couple of times had Shannon ever seen her husband in this environment.

  Over-easy eggs and sausage and bacon were being handed around the table when Kate appeared in the doorway and propped a rifle against the wall by the door jamb. Everyone talked about Kate being a better shot than her brothers, but it hadn’t occurred to Shannon that she would hunt with them this morning, especially since besides birds, they would also be hunting wild hogs.

  Kate crossed the room, her boot heels clumping against the wooden floor. She seated herself beside Troy. “Sorry I’m late.”

  “You’re always late, but we forgive you,” Troy said, his attention on his food.

  She leaned toward Pic. “Did we lose Mandy?”

  “She’s not feeling well,” Pic answered. “She’ll have breakfast later.”

  “Hunh. She must be really sick. She missed that great steak for supper last night, too.” She leaned toward Troy and spoke in a low voice. “You missed it, too. Hope it was worth it.”

  Shannon found Drake’s younger sister fascinating. She was a sexy, feminine-looking blonde who dressed in high-fashion Western-style clothing and jewelry. Yet Drake and Pic both said she could ride like a Comanche, shoot like a sniper and rope like Trevor Brazile. With plenty of her own money, she did what she pleased and said what she felt like saying. Drake said she was spoiled rotten. Shannon believed her to be a free spirit.

  She obviously adored her brothers, despite that they were constantly lecturing her about her friends, her behavior and the gossip about who she slept with. Kate seemed to pay no attention. What appeared to be most important to her was that in her real occupation, she was considered an expert all over the Southwest as a breeder of fine—and expensive—quarter horses. Apparently, serious horse breeders clamored for a few minutes of conversation with her.

  “You’re going hunting?” Shannon said to her, choosing the smallest sausage patty and placing it on her plate.

  Kate grinned broadly, showing perfect straight teeth. “Got to. Can’t let my brothers think they can best me. Besides, I got a new rifle.”

  Drake’s head shook, but instead of commenting, he took a biscuit from a plate filled with the steaming bread and passed the plate.

  Shannon mar
veled that Kate appeared to be perfectly comfortable at this table and in this company, while Shannon could hardly wait for the breakfast to be over.

  “Do you shoot?” Kate asked Shannon.

  Actually, Drake wanted her to learn to handle a gun. He even wanted her to get a CCL, especially since Blake Rafferty thought she was in some kind of danger. She was willing, but there just hadn’t been time. Shannon shook her head. “Someday I’ll learn.”

  Kate stabbed a bite of sausage, then leaned toward Troy and stage-whispered, “This sausage is from that hog I killed back in September.”

  All at once, Shannon’s stomach roiled and a wave of dots passed before her eyes. Ugh! She swallowed bile and grabbed her glass for a quick drink of apple juice.

  Drake grasped her wrist. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  She nodded and nibbled on a biscuit, hoping to settle her stomach.

  “The one you shot across the canyon?” Troy was saying. “The one that took four ranch hands and two come-alongs to winch out of there? I wouldn’t brag about that.”

  “Not to mention that you could have gotten all of our asses in a helluva lot of trouble,” Drake groused in a lowered voice.

  Shannon swallowed, cleared her throat and spoke to Kate. “You shot a hog?”

  “Sure did. Damn good shot, too, even if I do say so myself. I have to brag on myself because my brothers are never gonna brag on me.”

  Troy picked up his mug, swallowed a drink of coffee, then set the mug back on the table with a clunk. “It’s a damn wonder a game warden didn’t show up and write you a big ticket or even confiscate your hunting license.”

  Shannon vaguely remembered the evening Pic had called Drake and told him about this incident, but she hadn’t absorbed it.

  Kate leaned and stage-whispered back to Troy. “Well? So what? I spotted the damn thing and I had a shot at it. We might never have seen it again. A hog that big was a wily old sucker. A survivor.”