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Zane wanted to throw back his head and howl in despair. Frustration and pain boiled up from deep inside him. Slamming her car door shut, Zane braced his hands on the rolled-down window and stuck his face close to hers.
“Does this make you feel better, Alberta? I betrayed you so you’re refusing to help a blameless filly and rejecting a little girl who’s reaching out to you for friendship. Do you think sinking to my level will make you feel better? I’ve got news for you, honey. Life down here in the slime pits is dark and dirty and rank. and you’ll hate yourself from the moment you wake up in the morning until you work yourself into an exhausted sleep at night. And every time you look in a mirror, you’ll loathe the person looking back at you.”
“My, don’t we feel sorry for ourselves? Why don’t you have a beer and forget your troubles? It worked for you before.”
Her words slashed painfully deep. Zane dropped his hands and stepped back. Allie’s car roared into life and tore out of the ranch yard. The dust swirling around his boots smothered the false crumbs of hope he’d secretly nourished.
A car honked behind her. Allie checked her rearview mirror as an unfamiliar car flashed around her. Her eyes darted back to the mirror and her own image. She looked no different. The same blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, chopped-off chin, ordinary nose. Only the mouth seemed different. As if it didn’t belong to her. Because she didn’t want to lay claim to a mouth that could say such horrible, hurtful words. The ugly taunt replayed itself endlessly in her mind.
Hateful words. Said in a reasonable, quiet tone of voice, which made them all the more hateful. “Proud of yourself, Alberta Lassiter?” she mocked her twin in the mirror. Worse was the shameful knowledge Zane had been right. She’d refused to help the filly because she didn’t have the power to hurt Zane the way he’d hurt her.
Allie pulled over to the side of the road and parked. She’d always thought of herself as a good person. Condemning others for callous and uncaring behavior, she’d set herself up as a paragon of goodness and mercy. Prided herself on her compassion.
Closing her eyes, she leaned back against the headrest. She was a fraud, her behavior a total sham, her heart as black as three of the filly’s legs.
She wanted to blame Zane Peters for pulling her down. “The slime pits,” he’d said. “Dark and dirty and rank.” He’d put himself there.
He couldn’t put her there. Only she could.
Starting the engine, Allie retraced her route.
The paint filly had joined a small herd in a nearby pasture. Zane stood by the corral watching the horses. His daughter sat on the top rail, leaning back against her father’s chest. Allie forced her legs to carry her across the yard.
Zane didn’t turn as Allie leaned on the corral beside him.
The child peeked around her father, then curled tighter into Zane. Her thumb sought her mouth.
“I apologize for what I said.” For all Zane’s response, Allie could have spoken a foreign language. “And I’m sorry I said it in front of your daughter.”
Moments passed before Zane spoke. “I haven’t had a drop of any kind of alcohol since that night.”
“That’s good.” Allie drew on a rail with her finger. She knew he meant the night he’d impregnated Kim Taylor.
The sun took its warmth below the mountain peaks. Zane straightened, and lifting his daughter from the railing, settled her on his shoulders. “Thanks for coming back. I know how difficult it was for you to apologize, and I appreciate it.” He turned toward the house.
Allie rubbed her palms along the seams of her jeans. He wasn’t making this easy for her. “You don’t need to put the filly in the round pen tomorrow. I’ll bring her in.”
Zane didn’t slow his pace. “All right.”
“All right? That’s all you have to say?” she shouted after him.
He stopped. “What did you expect me to say?” he asked without turning.
“You could act a little surprised that I’m coming.”
“I’m not surprised. I knew you’d come tomorrow.”
She couldn’t let it go. “I suppose you knew I’d come back tonight, too.”
At that he turned. “Alberta, sometimes I think I know you better than I know myself.”
“You don’t know me at all. If you did, you’d know I hate to be called Alberta.”
“I know you hate it.” Sliding one hand up and down his daughter’s denim-clad leg, Zane gave Allie a slow smile. “And, yes, Alberta, I knew you’d be back.”
He took his daughter into the house leaving Allie standing there. She hated him. Hated his teasing, his smile, his little girl who wasn’t hers. Hated his wide shoulders and lean hips. Hated that a mere flexing of facial muscles could jolt a person’s stomach and speed up her heart.
Once that slow smile would have sent Allie rushing into Zane’s open arms. Older and wiser, she knew the difference between love and shallow physical attraction. Besides, Zane no longer had open arms. His daughter filled his arms.
Her face had told Zane how close he’d come to ruining everything. His only excuse was giddy, overwhelming relief. He’d gambled, remembering how painfully honest with herself Allie had always been. He’d told himself she’d come back. Reminded himself she’d never walk away from an animal in need. He hadn’t realized how scared he’d been until she’d returned.
Then he’d wanted to shout with joy and grab her in his arms.
The years, his marriage, Hannah—they changed nothing. He wanted Allie Lassiter. She’d stood there in ragged, dirty clothes—worn deliberately, he’d bet—her nose pointed snootily skyward, her eyes dark with annoyance, and Zane had wanted to send Hannah to the house and throw Allie down in the dirt and make mad, passionate love to her.
He had to be content with Allie’s agreeing to come to the ranch and help the filly. The animal had enough problems to keep Allie coming for a long time.
But was it long enough for Zane to break through the fences she’d erected around herself? Fences for which he’d supplied the barbed wire and poles.
The reason he’d betrayed Allie came padding on bare feet down the stairs. “Daddy?”
No, he hadn’t betrayed Allie because of Hannah. That he had a daughter was the result of his behavior, not the cause. He smiled at her. “Ready for a story before bed?”
Hannah crossed the room and eyed him solemnly. “How come Allie talked mean to us?”
“Allie didn’t talk... well, I suppose it sounded that way to you.” He scooped his daughter up on his lap. “Sometimes when people get hurt, they sound angry.” Before Hannah could ask where Allie hurt, Zane quickly steered the conversation away from Allie. “Remember when you stubbed your big toe on the footstool the other night?”
Hannah nodded. “It hurt really, really bad and I cried.”
“You were grouchier than a hungry bear. You growled and growled, like this.” Zane made growling sounds and pretended to bite her neck.
Hannah squirmed around until she faced him. “No, no! I growled like this.” She roared at the top of her lungs.
Zane laughed and hugged her tightly, breathing in the smell of baby shampoo. Holding her close, he stood. “C’mon, little bear, time for your prayers and a story, then beddy-bye.”
On the side of her bed, Hannah curled in his lap, squeezed her eyelids tightly shut and pressed her palms together. “Hi, Mommy. Daddy and I played bear.”
Zane didn’t know how Hannah’s nightly prayers came to mean chatting with her mother, who was no one’s idea of an angel or a saint. His book on how-to-parent hadn’t covered how one explained to a toddler the death of the mother she’d barely known. Kim hadn’t been much of a mother, but he hoped her daughter never learned that.
There was so much he hoped Hannah would never learn about. War and hate and pain and betrayal. Zane smoothed a hand over his daughter’s soft, rumpled curls, knowing he couldn’t protect her forever. Horses broke legs, dogs bit, kids at school said cruel things, animals and people you cared about died.
Heading the long list of bad things in the world were people who betrayed you. How did a parent protect a daughter from a man like him?
Mary Lassiter hadn’t been able to protect Allie.
Copper greeted Worth with a nicker as he walked up to the horse trailer. Her brother scratched the crest of the elderly mare’s mane and smiled at Allie. “Need any help?”
“If that’s your subtle way of asking why I’m loading Copper and where I’m going with the horse trailer, I told Mom.”
“Zane called this morning and told me you’re going to help him with a horse.”
Finished loading the mare, Allie gave Copper a pat on the rump and closed the back of the trailer. “I’m not helping him anything. I’m helping the filly.” She stepped around the greyhound at her heels.
“Do you want to talk about it? I never knew what you and Zane fought about that night he went to the bar.”
“What we always fought about. I felt he sometimes acted too much like Beau, irresponsible, not ready to settle down.” Allie gave a bitter laugh. “I didn’t know how close to the truth I was.” She hadn’t known then, or when Zane had come back two days later, an apologetic smile on his lips, a bunch of hothouse flowers in one hand, and her ring in the other. She’d accepted all three because she’d loved him and because she’d believed him when he promised to grow up.
Allie rubbed her bare finger. He’d neglected mentioning that he’d gone straight from their argument to a local bad where, to celebrate his liberation and to prove what a big boy he was, he’d gotten roaring drunk. He’d also neglected to mention the sympathetic bartender who’d taken him home to her bed.
“That was five years ago,” Worth said. “Zane wasn’t much more than a kid. A man can do a lot of growing up in five years. You have to admit, he took responsibility for his actions, and didn’t look for the easy way out. Zane could have supported the child without marrying Kim.”
Allie carefully placed her gear in the trailer’s storage area. “Is that what you would have done?”
“No. I’d have married her. Nothing against Mom and Grandpa and their raising of us, but I resented Beau for being a father in name only. I’d never allow a kid of mine to grow up without me there.”
She shrugged. “It’s all water under the bridge. There’s no going back.”
Worth shook his head in amusement. “You sound like Yancy. Grandpa always said the situation didn’t exist that couldn’t be covered by a well-worn cliché.”
“He was right.” She reached for the door handle.
Worth beat her to it and opened the door. “Now that Zane’s a widower, you two could try again.” He moved aside as Moonie slid around him and leaped into the SUV.
“Not interested,” Allie said flatly, climbing behind the steering wheel.
Without comment Worth stepped back and waved her on her way.
Driving down the highway, Allie thought darkly about Worth’s tendency to view his younger sisters as about ten years old. “He’d better not be planning on playing matchmaker,” she said to the greyhound looking out of the passenger window. Moonie turned and lay down, his head resting on Allie’s thigh. She stroked his head. “Who needs a man when she has a dog?” A gentle snore met her rhetorical question.
Males. You couldn’t count on them for anything. Except to let you down. In all fairness, she had to exempt her grandfather and her brother from the category of worthless males. Beau always said Worth fit his name. A person could count on Worth.
Turning off the highway, Allie wished her brother hadn’t brought up the past. No one could resurrect what had been—Allie corrected herself—what she’d thought had been between her and Zane. People didn’t mourn a one-sided love affair. Especially if you’d been the stupid one in love.
Worth talked about the difficulty of Zane’s choice. At least Zane made his choice. Allie had been given no choice.
She cringed to think how gullible she’d been. How she’d seen Zane’s exemplary behavior in the weeks before their upcoming wedding as proof he’d matured. Now she knew he’d been feeling guilty because he’d slept with Kimberly Taylor.
Five years later Allie still didn’t know if she would have accepted back the ring if she’d known he’d slept with another woman. She told herself she wouldn’t have, but she’d been young. And in love. The question would never be answered.
An aspen tree, its leaves gleaming with gold, caught her eye. The aspens had been green then, the green of spring and promise. She’d been sitting on the porch waiting for Zane, her mind jumbled with last-minute wedding plans. The memory of his face, pale with eyes almost black as he told her, superimposed itself on the ribbon of highway ahead of her.
“I slept with another woman. Kimberly Taylor. She’s pregnant, Allie, so I’m going to marry her.”
Her ears heard the words, but her mind refused to take in their meaning. “What do you mean? How? When? What are you talking about?”
Zane held his arms down stiffly in front of him, his hands gripping the wide brim of his hat. “I got drunk and slept with her the night you broke our engagement. She’s pregnant.”
“I don’t believe you.” She hadn’t wanted to believe.
“I wish I were lying. I’m more sorry than I can say, Allie. I know this is a rotten thing to do to you.”
Her throat had swollen, making it painful to swallow. “You’re going to marry someone else?”
“I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it’s the right thing, the only thing, I can do. I was wrong to sleep with Kim, but I can’t erase what I did. And now I have to do the honorable thing and marry her.”
“What about me?” she’d cried.
He wouldn’t look at her. Just stood there, curling his hat brim tighter and tighter. Finally he said, “You’ll find someone else. A better man. A man who deserves you.” He’d turned and walked toward his pickup.
She’d screamed at him then. Called him names, cursed him, heaped upon him every bit of verbal abuse that came to mind. Zane had stood by his truck, his hand on the door handle, his head bowed. Not until she’d run out of words had he picked up the ring she’d thrown in the dirt at his feet, climbed wearily into his truck and driven slowly away.
He’d married Kimberly Taylor the next day.
Zane Peters married or Zane Peters a widower, it was all the same to Allie. The filly drew her to his ranch. Not Zane.
And definitely not his daughter with her mother’s hair. Allie should have guessed the girl’s identity the minute she saw her. Despite her red hair, the child looked like Zane.
The gossip about Kim Taylor had quickly reached Allie. People seemed to think a jilted bride would be happy to know the man who’d jilted her was himself being cheated on. She hadn’t been happy. The gossip only proved how little wrecking Allie’s life meant to either Zane or Kim.
The child was swinging on a rope swing tied to a large cottonwood tree near the house when Allie drove up. At the sight of Allie’s car and trailer, the little girl dragged her feet in the dirt, slowing down the swing.
Allie intended to concentrate on the filly, not on some other woman’s kid. Ignoring the child, Allie opened the trailer and backed Copper down the short ramp.
“Hi.”
“Hello,” Allie answered shortly. So much for hoping the kid would stay out of her way.
“Daddy said I can’t bother you.”
“He’s right.”
“What’s her name?”
Allie glanced over to see the girl petting the greyhound. “Moonie. You shouldn’t pet strange dogs. You could get bitten.”
“She likes me.”
“He. He’s a male dog.” Males had no discrimination.
“He’s funny-looking. He’s skinny.”
Telling Moonie to stay by the trailer, Allie swung up on Copper and walked the mare toward the pasture.
On short, stubby legs, the little girl trotted beside the large mare. “What’s your horse’s name? My new horse is Honey. Daddy calls me honey.”
Allie carefully closed and locked the gate into the pasture. Zane’s daughter said the endearment in exact mimicry of the way her father used to say it to Allie.
The child climbed up the metal pasture gate and clung to the top. “He calls me honey ’cuz he really loves me. I really love Honey.”
