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She nodded toward the stallion. “That’s him. They’ve called him Joker from the time he was a foal. Always in trouble, and with his odd markings—” she motioned to the splashes of white on the animal’s coal black face “—it just seemed to fit.”
“And what do you call him?”
“Today?” she said with a twisted smile. “Demon, for starters. I have other names, but they’re not fit for mixed company.” Again she blew a stubborn strand of hair off her face as Kyle laughed, the sound rich and deep, like the first crack of thunder in a spring storm.
Why hadn’t Kyle aged poorly? Why was he trim and fit, his face more chiseled now that all trace of boyishness had disappeared? Where was the hint of a belly? The graying of his hair? The softness of a rich man who didn’t have to raise a finger? Instead he was all hard angles and tight skin, slim in the waist and hips, wide across the shoulders. If anything, time had been inordinately kind to Kyle Fortune.
“I haven’t met a horse yet that you couldn’t handle.”
“Joker, here, just might be the one,” she said, though her mind wasn’t on the conversation, not when there were so many raw emotions racing through her, scraping against her heart. “He’ll be the death of me, I swear.”
“I doubt it, Sam. The way I remember it, you liked nothing better than a challenge.”
“Funny. That’s not what I remember.”
All the laughter disappeared from his eyes. “No? Then what?”
Oh, Lord. Her heart squeezed painfully. “You don’t want to know.”
“Try me.”
“Already have. It didn’t work out.”
His lips flattened over his teeth and his jaw turned to granite. “You know, Sam, we don’t have to start out this way.”
“Sure we do.” Oh, Kyle, if you only knew. Naked, gut-wrenching emotions tore at her and she could barely breathe. Life just wasn’t fair. Why was Kyle Fortune, the one man on this earth she’d sworn to despise, so damned sexy, even in his pressed Levi’s and the Ralph Lauren shirt that stretched a bit over his shoulders? He probably worked out in some gym, lifted weights until the sweat ran down his body as he eyed the women in their leotards, thongs and bodysuits. Kyle had always attracted females—like horse dung attracted flies. Including you, she reminded herself grimly.
Dusting off her hands, she climbed to the top rail of the fence. “Since you’re here and all, I guess I can go home. I was just watching the place, playing overseer until Kate could hire a new foreman. Then she…” Sam couldn’t say the word, couldn’t believe that Kate Fortune—feisty, fun-loving, full-of-life Kate—could actually be dead. Though the woman had to be in her seventies, she’d been nowhere near the grave when a hellish plane crash over the rain forests of Brazil changed everything and snatched away Kate Fortune’s life.
“How’s your dad?” Kyle asked, and Sam’s heart felt as if it were suddenly filled with lead.
“Gone. He died about five years ago.”
“Oh. Sorry. I…” He lifted his hands. “I didn’t know.”
She shook her head. “Doesn’t surprise me. You don’t know much about anything here in Clear Springs, do you?” His eyes, blue as the summer sky, clouded a bit, and though she knew she was being cruel, she couldn’t help but ask, “Why in the world would Kate leave you this ranch when you’ve made a point of avoiding it for so long?”
A muscle came to life in his jaw. His fingers clenched, then straightened, and his gaze drilled into hers as if he was offended that she would be so direct. Finally he shrugged and looked away. “Beats me,” he admitted, and she believed him. He squinted as he took off his new hat, showing off thick brown hair that was streaked by the sun. It ruffled in a breeze that swirled through the paddock and bent a few long weeds clustered near the fence posts.
“You know, I really liked your grandmother,” Sam said, thinking of the strong-willed woman who ran a cosmetics company in Minneapolis with an iron-fisted grip and yet was known around these parts for her rhubarb pie. An independent woman of many talents, Kate loved her family fiercely and had been determined throughout her life to make her mark, not only in business, but with her children and grandchildren as well. She’d loved her ranch nearly as much as she loved Fortune Cosmetics. “I can’t believe that I’ll never see her again.”
His head jerked up, as if she’d hit a painful nerve.
“Look, what I’m trying to say,” she added, tongue-tied for one of the first times in her life, “is that I’m sorry she…she’s gone.”
“Me, too,” he said with a heartfelt sigh, then scowled, as if talking about Kate’s death was too painful a topic. Clearing his throat, he hitched his chin in the stallion’s direction. “So what were you doing with the horse?”
“Trying and failing, thank you very much, to teach him to walk on a lead. He’s the most valuable stallion on the spread, and several ranchers in the area have been asking about hiring him as a stud. The problem is he’s got a mind of his own and, like a lot of men I know, doesn’t much like being told what to do. He hates the lead, refuses to be loaded into a trailer and is a general pain in the backside,” she added, but smiled. Truth to tell, she admired Joker and his fierce independence. Though his bloodlines were pure, it was his attitude that often teased a grin from Samantha’s lips.
As if on cue, the stallion lifted his head, flared his nostrils and let out a neigh as a mare, her spindly-legged foal prancing behind, grazed closer to the paddock where Joker was penned.
“He does like the ladies,” she observed.
“A mistake.”
Shooting Kyle a sharp glance, Sam felt her smile disappear. “Experience talking?”
His jaw tightened a bit. “Look, Sam, I know I—”
“Forget it,” she said, cutting him off swiftly. “Ancient history. Let’s not discuss it, okay?” But you’ll have to, won’t you? You can’t just ignore the past—not now, not when he’s back in Wyoming, not when he deserves to know the truth. Her conscience was sometimes a royal pain in the neck. Sure, she had no choice other than to confide in him, but not yet. Not now. “Let’s just take care of the horse.” With that she stalked across the paddock, and Kyle followed. She talked in soft tones to Joker, and he responded as he always did, by bolting to the far end of the corral. Sam’s nerves were stretched tight as she approached the beast again, but this time the fire was out of him, and as quickly as a dime flips when tossed into the air, Joker gave up and allowed Sam to lead him back to the stables, where she unsnapped the tether and fed and watered him.
To her consternation, Kyle didn’t leave her side. As if he were fascinated by her handling of the horse, he followed her into the stables and eyed the old building that was now his—concrete floor, rough cedar walls, hayloft stretching over the row of stalls and tack room where saddles, bridles and halters gave off the warm scent of oiled leather.
“You live in your folks’ place?” he asked, peering around curiously. Sunlight filtered in through windows thick with grime. Dust motes played in a few feeble rays of sunlight that pierced the interior.
“Yeah.”
“Alone?”
“With my daughter,” she said, closing the stall door. The latch clicked into place and seemed to echo in the stillness, broken only by a frustrated fly buzzing near the window and her own wildly beating heart.
“I didn’t know you were married.”
“I’m not.”
“Oh.” He probably thought she was divorced, and for now, until her equilibrium was restored, she’d let him think what he wanted. He could bloody well leap to whatever conclusions his fertile mind conjured up.
She was used to speculation. Raising a child alone in a small town was always grist for the ever-grinding gossip mill. Over the years people had made a lot of wrong assumptions about her—assumptions Sam never bothered correcting. “Mom moved into town when Dad died, but Caitlyn and I—”
“Caitlyn’s your daughter?”
She nodded tightly, afraid of giving away too much. “We wanted to stay out here. I was raised in the country and I thought she should be, too.”
“What about her father?”
A roar like a wind through the mountains in the middle of a winter storm surged through her brain, creating a headache that pounded behind her eyes. “Caitlyn’s father,” she repeated. “He’s—he’s out of the picture.” Silently calling herself a coward, she grabbed a brush to stroke Joker’s sleek coat.
“Must be tough.”
If you only knew. “We manage,” she said, throwing her back into her work as nervous sweat began to slide down her spine. Tell him, Sam, tell him now! You’ll never have such a golden opportunity again. For God’s sake, he deserves to know that he’s got a child, that he’s Caitlyn’s father!
“I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“Don’t worry about it,” she interrupted, moving to the other side of Joker and sending a cloud of dust from the animal’s rump. She worked feverishly, her mind racing, her mouth as dry as Sagebrush Gulch in the dead of July.
“If you don’t watch out, you’ll rub the spots right off of him.”
She realized then how intent she’d been on her work. Even Joker, usually never distracted from feed, had crooked his long neck to look at her. “Sorry,” she muttered and tossed the brush into a bucket. Kyle was making her nervous, and the subject of Caitlyn’s lack of a father was always touchy. Today, in the hot, dark stables, with the very man who was responsible for impregnating her and leaving her alone, Samantha felt trapped. She let herself through the stall door and tried to ignore the way he sat upon the top rail, as he had ten years before, jeans stretched tight over his knees and butt, heels resting on a lower rail, eyes piercing and filled with a sultry dark promise as he watched her. But that was crazy. Those old emotions were gone, dried-up like Stiller Creek in the middle of a ten-year drought.
“Sam…” He reached forward and touched her arm, his fingers grazing her wrist.
She reacted as if she’d been burned, drawing away and throwing open the door. A shaft of bright summer sunlight pierced the dim interior and a breath of hot, dry air followed along. Hurrying outside, she heard his footsteps behind her, new boots crunching on the gravel of the parking area, but she didn’t turn around, didn’t want to chance looking into his eyes and allowing him to see any hint of what she was feeling, of the bare emotions that surged through her just at the sight of him. Damn it, what was wrong with her? “I—I’ve been coming over here, doing my dad’s old job, acting as foreman ever since the last guy, Red Spencer—he’d been here for seven years or so, I guess, before Dad retired—anyway, Red took over for Dad when Dad couldn’t handle the job, but he left a couple of months ago. Moved to Gold Spur, I think it was, to be close to his son and daughter-in-law. Kate asked me to keep an eye on things and I agreed, but now that you’re back you won’t be needing me—”
“Sam!” This time his fingers found her wrist, clamped tightly and spun her around so fast she could barely catch her breath. “You’re rambling, and near as I remember, that’s not like you.”
“But you don’t know me anymore, do you?” she said, her anger, ten years old and instantly white-hot, taking control of her tongue. “You don’t know a damned thing about me, and that’s because it’s the way you wanted it!”
“For the love of—”
She yanked back her hand. “All the records are in the den.” Making a sweeping gesture toward the house, she kept walking to her truck. “It looks like your tractor might need a new clutch, there’s a buyer from San Antonio interested in most of your cattle, I’ve got a list of people who want Diablo—er, Joker—as a stud. The hay’s in early this year and—”
“And you’re running scared.”
“What?” She whirled and faced him, fury pumping through her bloodstream, hands planted on her hips.
“I said you’re—”
“I heard what you said, I just couldn’t believe it. You,” she said, eyes narrowing in silent, seething anger as she pointed a furious finger at him, “of all people have no right, no right to accuse anyone of running!” Throwing her hands into the air, she looked up at the blue sky with its smattering of veil-thin clouds. “You’re unbelievable, Kyle. Un-be-liev-a-ble!” Turning on a well-worn heel, she stormed to her truck, threw the rig into gear and ripped out of the parking lot, leaving Kyle in his fancy new boots, tight jeans and designer shirt to eat her dust.
“Is somethin’ wrong?” Caitlyn, sitting on the far side of the old pickup, pinned her mother with blue eyes so like her father’s as the truck sped into town.
Tar oozed on the shoulders of the old country road. Hot air blew threw the open windows, catching Caitlyn’s already tangled wheat blond hair.
“Wrong?” Samantha’s heart tightened as she shifted down for a corner. The sun was sitting low on the horizon and waves of heat shimmered from the asphalt, distorting the false fronts of the Western-looking buildings. Clear Springs paid homage to the latter part of the nineteenth century with its architecture.
“Yeah, you’ve been acting funny ever since you picked me up.” Caitlyn wasn’t having any of her mother’s double-talk.
“I suppose I have,” Sam admitted, remembering how Kyle had rattled her cage. She’d been still fuming as she’d retrieved her daughter from a friend’s house.
“Why?”
“I just saw an old…friend today. It took me a little by surprise.”
“So?”
Yeah, right. So? “And I have a headache.” That wasn’t a lie. From the second she’d laid eyes on Kyle Fortune, her head had been pounding.
“Your friend gave you a headache?” Caitlyn shook her head, still not buying her story. “You look mad.”
“Mad?”
“Uh-huh. The same way you looked last year when you found out that Billy McGrath had his birthday party and invited everyone but me and Tommy Wilkins.”
Sam’s blood boiled at the memory of that incident. “Well, that was wrong and Billy’s mother knew it was wrong and… Oh, well, it’s all water under the bridge now.” Samantha reached toward the dashboard and grabbed her sunglasses. At the time she’d wanted to throttle bratty Billy and his snob of a mother, who had decided that two kids out of a class of twenty-one weren’t good enough to attend the birthday swimming party. The two kids who were whispered to be illegitimate.
“So why’d your friend make you mad?”
“He didn’t…he just showed up unexpectedly and it surprised me,” she hedged, then tapped Caitlyn’s smudged nose. “I’ve got to stop at the bank and the post office, but then we can get an ice cream at The Freeze.”
Caitlyn’s eyebrows smoothed. “How about a sundae?”
“Why not?” Sam exclaimed as she passed the sign welcoming visitors to Clear Springs, Wyoming. Maybe it was time to celebrate. It wasn’t every day that her daughter’s father landed back in town. Oh, God, how would she ever tell him that he was Caitlyn’s dad? What would he do? Laugh in her face? Call her a liar? Be so stunned that his lying, silvery tongue would be finally stilled? Or would he see the naked truth with his own eyes and decide that it was time to become a father? If he wanted even partial custody, there was no way she could fight him. Against the Fortune family money and bevy of lawyers, she wouldn’t stand a chance.
Sam’s throat was suddenly dry as sand. She pulled into a parking space and told herself not to overreact, that Kyle was only here for six months, that even when he found out that Caitlyn was his daughter, it wouldn’t matter. He would be reasonable, wouldn’t he? He had to be. But what about Caitlyn? How would she feel about the man who was her father?
Samantha couldn’t lose her child. Not to anyone. Not even to the man who had sired her.
Two
“What a mess.” With a snort of disgust, Kyle eyed the handwritten ledgers. The musty journal was spread open on the old oak desk that had been in this den for all the years he could remember. The oaken behemoth had belonged to Ben Fortune, Kyle’s grandfather and Kate’s husband, though Kyle couldn’t remember a single time he’d seen Ben sit in the timeworn leather chair. No, this ranch had been Kate’s haven from the fast pace of the city, but these damned journals were a mystery. Why no computer system? No link to the Internet? No modem? No accounting program? This wasn’t like his grandmother, a woman who had lived her life ahead of her time, who’d used a cell phone and fax machine as easily as she splashed on perfume. Kate Fortune had been connected by computer to all of her late husband’s companies, including factories as far away as Singapore and Madrid. Though she’d spoken the language of the wildcatters working for Ben’s oil company, she flew her own private jet. If any ranch out in the wilds of Wyoming should have a damned PC and modem, it was Kate’s spread. The lack of telecommunications just didn’t make sense. Unless Kate came here to get away from the rat race and preferred the leisurely pace that had worked for ranchers for decades.
The phone rang, and Kyle snatched up the receiver, half expecting to hear Samantha’s husky voice on the other end of the line. He tensed. “Kyle Fortune.”
“Well, whaddya know!” Grant’s voice boomed across the wires as Kyle settled back in his chair. “I heard a nasty rumor you were back in town.”
“Bad news travels fast.”
“Especially in this family.”
Amen, Kyle thought. The Fortunes had always been a close-knit lot, but ever since Kate’s death, Kyle had felt a newfound kinship with his cousins and siblings—a camaraderie born of shared grief for a loved one lost.
“Mike called and said you’d taken a company jet to Jackson, so I figured you’d show up sooner or later.”
“Just in time to get a look at that beast you inherited.”
Grant chuckled. “Fortune’s Flame.”
“Fortune’s Folly, if you ask me.”
“I’ll take him off your hands as soon as he’ll ride in a trailer. I know Samantha’s been working with him.”
“Seems as such.”
Sam. Why couldn’t he quit thinking about her?
“I suppose you know that Rocky’s thinking about moving out here?”
“Rocky? As in Rachel?”
“Your cousin and mine.”
Kyle hadn’t seen Rachel since the reading of the will in Kate’s lawyer’s office. Usually adventurous, with a quick smile, Rocky had been as sober as the rest of the family that day. Dark circles had shadowed her brown eyes and she’d nervously fingered the charm her grandmother had bequeathed her. She’d seemed lost at the time, but then they all had.
“So my horse is okay?”
“I ran into Sam as she was working with him. The stud looked full of the devil.”
“He is.” Grant chuckled.
