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Her head snapped up. “No.”
“You were with him at the hospital.”
“I was there anyway.” She touched the bandage on her forehead.
“Why didn’t you stay?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?” he probed.
“I just couldn’t. Why should I?”
“Did he say anything to you?”
Haley flinched. Fear widened her eyes, touching him in a way that made him regret his harshness but heightened his need for the truth.
The question snaked between them like a whip and struck her. She remembered only too well Mitch’s last words. Words that still echoed in her head.
Forgive yourself.
How dare he tell her to forgive herself after what he’d done. She shook the memory loose.
“I think maybe he thought I was someone else.”
“He didn’t. He was very certain about your name and about wanting me to find you.” Jared’s brown eyes probed hers.
“I have to go,” she said. “If you’re looking to blame someone, I can’t help you. I did what I could and I’m truly sorry.”
“Sorry? Sorry that he died or that your moment of fear may have caused his death?”
Jared’s square jaw clenched, giving his rugged face a determined, hard look. Haley’s stomach roiled. He was too close to the truth for comfort. If he found out about Sarah, what would happen then? Panic rose to her throat. He emitted the same power she’d sensed the first time she’d run into him outside the bull pens six days ago. How much like Mitch was Jared? Don’t make an enemy of this man, she cautioned herself.
She finished loosening the cinch, aware that he watched, gauged and absorbed every move. The sun dipped toward the distant mountains. Haley shivered in spite of the heat. She mustn’t give him cause to pursue his questions.
Jared’s glance sharpened. “How well did you know my brother, Haley?”
She lifted her chin, forcing herself to stare into his eyes. She would not cower before this man or any other. And she wouldn’t own Mitch’s sins. Heaven knew she had enough of her own to atone for.
“I told you I didn’t know him. We met briefly several years ago. I didn’t see him again until the night he rode Resurrection.”
“But you had met him before so why did you deny it? You told the nurse at the hospital you were family.”
“Meeting doesn’t constitute knowing. I was in that arena with him. Two years ago I was laying in the same spot that he was. I needed to know and the doctors wouldn’t tell me anything.” She shrugged.
“Then why not just say so?” Silence hung between them like dust in an arena.
Her heart dropped. Caught in the deception. She glanced at her watch and moved around Spinner. “I don’t know.
“I watched the replays.”
Her fist clenched in the animal’s mane. “Is there a point to all this? You weren’t in there. You don’t know. I have to go.”
Jared stepped aside. His hand, large and rough, touched her wrist. She shivered again.
“Don’t go far, Haley,” he said. “There’s more to this than what you’ve told me. I can find truth in the most unlikely places. You and I are not through.”
Haley tugged on Spinner’s reins and rushed from the paddock without looking back. Jared had her so confused she didn’t know which way was up. Behind the barns, she bent over, rested her hands on her knees, and gulped in waves of fresh air, but it didn’t stem the nausea rising to her throat. Spinner nuzzled her neck and nickered.
She led the horse into the barn. When she chanced a look behind her there was no sign of Jared, but she could still feel his power, the air of authority surrounding him, the tingle along her skin that remained long after she’d pulled away from him.
He’d thrown down an invisible gauntlet, and instinct told her he would stop at nothing to discover the truth.
The sun dropped behind the horizon, painting the sky a dark orange. Hap plugged the horse trailer lights into his truck and rechecked the hitch and safety chains, while Haley hooked the camper to her truck.
“Never known you to run from nothing,” he said.
Haley placed a finger to her lips and watched Sarah stuff a horse blanket into Hap’s truck cab. If she and Sarah could get safely back to Hap’s place, Jared would have a hard time finding them.
“There’s no reason to stay when there’s work waiting at home.”
“It’s not fair,” Sarah said, sticking her lips out. “Why don’t you go? Hap and I can come later. After the finals. We never miss the finals.”
“We’ll go together,” Haley said.
Sarah’s eyes watered in frustration. “Can I go and at least say goodbye to my friends?”
Haley’s heart thudded like a trapped rabbit. “Go. But stay in sight of the truck. I don’t want to have to come looking for you. You’ve got ten minutes.”
Hap’s silent disapproval cut into the evening air louder than the music coming from the midway. She never should have told him everything.
“Runnin’ stinks, don’t it?” he said.
Haley moved toward her own truck, which seemed to groan beneath the weight of the camper. “I’m protecting Sarah.”
“He’s her family, too.”
“How do I know he’s any different than Mitch?”
“You don’t.”
Haley locked the camper door and leaned her head against the cool metal. “Don’t, Hap. Don’t take his side. What if he finds out about Sarah?”
Hap patted her arm, then squeezed her shoulder.
“Sarah’s mine. She can’t know where she came from. She’s too young.” Haley turned and leaned against him.
“You didn’t do nothin’ wrong, girl. You can’t run from this.”
Haley’s eyes misted. “Sarah doesn’t need any family but you and me.”
“Maybe God thinks otherwise.”
“Don’t,” she said.
Hap’s rough hand stroked her hair. “Ain’t you forgettin’? Sarah’s God’s child. There’s a reason He placed her with you—a reason He allowed her to come into this world the way she did. And there’s a reason this man is here now.”
Haley spun around, grabbed the camper jack and rammed it into the truck bed. “Well, I wish God would enlighten me.”
“Maybe you ain’t listenin’. Wouldn’t be the first time,” he said.
Haley jammed her hat onto her head. “I suppose you’re going to tell me too that God had a reason for Mitch being here and a reason that I…played a part in killing him.” She brushed away a tear.
“You didn’t kill nobody.”
“If it had been any other cowboy…”
“What’s written is written, honey. And God holds the pen that does the writin’.”
She kicked a rock and sent it flying across the parking lot. “I don’t want him poking around.”
Hap stroked his chin. “Secrets won’t stay hidden forever.”
Haley caught Sarah’s glance, the rebellious look still in her eyes.
Hap motioned Sarah to wait. “Face the man now. Don’t wait for him to come to you.”
“Tell him what his brother was and seal our fate? Not a chance.”
Hap raked a hand through his silver hair and sighed. “Stay and finish this. I’ll take Sarah home with me and you won’t need to mention her at all.”
Haley rubbed her arms, feeling a chill in the warm air.
“You need to make him see that you are sorry the boy died.” Hap pinned her with his gaze. “You are sorry, aren’t you?”
“You know I am.”
“He needs to that.” Hap tipped his hat back.
“I do feel responsible, Hap. Responsible and…relieved. It was an accident, but with Mitch gone, I thought that now it was finally over. I could put an end to all those bad dreams. What does that say about me?”
“That you’re human and that you can’t do this alone.” Hap scuffed his toe in the dust. “Haley, you gotta let God help with this.”
Haley glanced at Sarah and swallowed the knot in her throat. Hap could very well be right. But trusting didn’t come easy. Especially where God was concerned. She wasn’t sure it ever would. “I can’t. But I will stay. I’ll finish this.”
Hap gave a satisfied nod and loaded the horses in his trailer. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff from the barn,” he said.
The memory of Jared’s dark eyes filled her mind, how their warmth the day he’d bumped in to her outside the Fellowship tent had both touched and frightened her, how they’d gleamed like hard shards of rock when he’d questioned her about the accident and knowing Mitch.
She’d backed herself into a corner, and he knew it. If he pushed her too far, he wouldn’t like what she had to say. She rechecked the hitch and chains on the camper and fished in her pocket for the keys. Footsteps crunched the gravel behind her.
“I’m almost ready, Hap.”
She turned around and stared straight into Jared’s flashing dark eyes.
“Going somewhere?” he asked.
She searched frantically for Hap, then saw Sarah wave to her friends and skip toward her.
Chapter Four
Jared watched the child approach. Her movements smacked with familiarity, rekindling old memories of another time and place, memories of a young boy with unruly jet-black hair tagging along behind him with the same bounce in his step and tilt to his head. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together. The first shock wave knocked him like a mule’s kick.
Every movement right down to her furrowed brow bore traces of the brother he’d lost. Her black hair refused to be tamed by braids and streamed in a tangled mass around her face. She lifted her chin and darted a look at him. Another shock wave ripped through Jared, pain so intense it stole his breath.
“Hi. I’m Sarah,” she said holding his gaze with gray-green eyes.
Jared opened his mouth but nothing came out. This child was a feminine replica of Mitch. She had to be Mitch’s daughter. Obviously Haley hadn’t expected to see Mitch again. That was the reason he’d seen recognition and shock on the replay tapes, the reason her answers were less than satisfactory. Sarah was the secret Haley was hiding, the secret that may have cost Mitch his life.
The color drained from Haley’s face. Like a bear protecting her young, she moved between him and Sarah. “Sarah Rose. Go to the barn and find Hap,” she said.
“But, Mom—”
“Go. Now.”
Sarah bounced an uncertain look between them and raced toward the barn. Jared watched until she was out of sight. He wanted to reach out and touch her, make sure she was real. She was so like Mitch it made him ache. Haley had kept Sarah from Mitch, from Walt, from all of them. Why? Anger waged a tug of war inside him.
“She’s Mitch’s daughter, isn’t she, Haley? Did he know?” The question nearly choked him. “What really happened in the arena the night Mitch died?”
He heard the steel in his own voice. She winced, then grabbed his arm and pulled him away from the truck, away from the barns and from Sarah. “She’s my daughter. Go away. You have no right to hound me.”
“Mitch’s death gives me that right,” he said looking toward the barn. Jared shook with rage. Only God would be able to help her if he was right. “Look me in the eye and tell me that child isn’t his and that you didn’t deliberately keep her from him. From her grandparents.”
She couldn’t. She knew it and so did he. “Sarah has a right to know her family,” he said. “We just lost Mitch, and Sarah is a living part of him. We have a right to know her.” His chest tightened. He fisted his hands against his sides.
Haley flattened herself against the truck. “You have no rights and neither did Mitch. He lost that the second he left me behind that—”
She covered her mouth with her hand. She wouldn’t—couldn’t—think about that night or speak of it ever. Not with this man or any other. The fury in Jared’s eyes terrified her. The realization of what he wanted, expected, was unthinkable.
She looked toward the barn and saw Sarah pulling Hap toward them, his bum leg sliding in the dirt, kicking dust into the evening air. “I can’t talk to you about this now.”
He followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed when they rested on Sarah, then softened. For a moment she thought he would refuse, that he would lie in wait, snatch Sarah away and disappear. A hand clenched around her soul.
“When?” he said.
“Tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the bull pens in the morning.”
His gaze shifted back to her and hardened. “Be there, Haley. If you run, I’ll find you.”
