12

As the horse raced across the field, Jane could see the house straight ahead. But she knew she would never make it. She was still in the saddle, leaning forward on the horse’s neck like a jockey in the homestretch. Her fingers had found the harness, so she had something to hold on to. But her feet were nowhere near the stirrups, and her legs had no grip on the animal’s flanks. She was tossing about furiously from side to side, threatening to bounce off at any moment. She felt herself slipping to one side. With each stride there was a new jolt, and with each jolt she was bouncing farther to her right. She was no longer atop the saddle but more to one side. Only the grip she had around the neck and a foot hooked under the edge of the saddle were keeping her on the horse.

Her shifting weight meant that she was tugging harder and harder on one side of the harness. As the horse snapped its head back to the front, the leather strap nearly pulled free. Jane knew that if she lost that grip, she would roll around to the horse’s belly and then under the pounding hooves. Somehow she had to throw herself clear, but that seemed equally dangerous. If she just pushed off, she might still get kicked. And even if she cleared the horse’s legs, she would be left flying through the air toward a headfirst landing.

Could she stop the horse? She had lost the reins, but she still had a grip on the harness. If she pulled it back, she might also pull back the bit. Wouldn’t that make the horse stop? Or would it just make the animal madder? She didn’t know, but she had to try something. Another few strides and she would fall.

A hand flashed by her eyes and snatched the harness. She turned her head for an instant and saw that another horse was racing beside her. Another glance identified Craig, who was leaning out of his saddle and holding on to her horse’s harness. Just as important, he was pressing against her, keeping her from sliding any farther.

“Whoa!” a voice screamed from the other side. Across the flying mane she saw Bill alongside, reaching over to take the other side of the harness. Then she was pinched in from both sides. Strong hands were pulling back on the reins. The three horses came to a dead stop.

Jane slid directly forward, right over the top of the horse’s head. She held on to the harness with a death grip while her feet flew up over her head. She looped through the air, her feet coming around to take the impact of her fall. But her upper body kept traveling until she saw the ground rushing up toward her. She got her hands up in the fraction of a second it took to complete her flip and skidded on her knees and elbows. She was still fully conscious when she came to a stop. Andrews dove down next to her.

“Don’t move! Don’t try to move anything.”

Jane couldn’t answer. Her breath had been knocked out and she was sucking desperately for air.

He took her hand. “Can you feel my hand?” She still had no air to form words, but she did manage a jerky nod. “How about here?” He was holding her ankle. Again she answered with a nod.

He stared into her eyes. “You’re focused,” he told her. Then he added, “That’s great. Everything seems to be all right.” Then he wheeled to his daughter, who was still on horseback. “Ride back to the camp and get Burt here with the truck.”

Jane tried to pull her knees and elbows under her. “Don’t move,” Andrews snapped. “Lie perfectly still.”

“I’m okay,” she told him.

“We’ll get you to a doctor,” he responded.

Jane pushed herself up on all fours. “I’m all right. Just a bit shaken up. Let me try to walk it off.”

His expression was skeptical as he helped her to her feet. She stood unsteadily in his embrace. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of Craig, who was holding the three horses. “Thanks,” she said. “I couldn’t have held on for another second.”

“You did okay,” he allowed. He involved himself with the mounts so that he wouldn’t have to elaborate. Then the pickup came bouncing out into the field.

Andrews helped her into the master bedroom and began filling the Jacuzzi. He left her with Agnes while he went for a scotch, and knocked politely before entering with her drink. She was in the tub with the water bubbling up around her, seeming none the worse for her ordeal.

“This should help,” he said, holding the drink at arm’s length so that he wasn’t looking down at her.

“It’s still morning,” Jane reminded him. “Maybe a couple of aspirin would be better.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He rushed out the door, leaving the drink on the bathroom sink. Seconds later he was back with a handful of pills and a glass of water. He polished off the scotch while she downed the pills.

The damage was slight. Her knees and elbows were skinned and there was a dull ache across her shoulders. She was able to dress by herself and emerge from her room in time for lunch. She heard William and his children at the table before she entered the room.

“We didn’t do anything,” Cassie was insisting.

“She just doesn’t know how to ride a horse,” Craig added.

Andrews’s voice was soft but still stern. “That horse has never bolted before. There was nothing out there to spook him.”

“Maybe it was something she did,” Cassie suggested. “She must have kicked him or something.”

Bill growled, “She certainly didn’t put that burr under his saddle. Someone else had to have done that.”

“Maybe she brushed against a sticker bush,” Craig said.

“We were out in the open when the horse bolted,” his father answered.

“It could have been caught in the saddle from a long time ago,” Cassie tried.

“Then how come the horse didn’t act up as soon as he was saddled?”

Jane wanted to hear how the investigation played out, but she didn’t want to be caught eavesdropping. The conversation stopped when she entered the room.

Bill stood to hold her chair. “How are you feeling? Everything okay?”

“I feel fine,” Jane answered, even though she ached as if a truck had hit her. “Just a couple of bruises.”

“See,” Craig said, “she didn’t even get hurt.” Jane nodded pleasantly even though she felt an urge to throw a punch. There was genuine joy in the thought of seeing him with his nose broken. The children used Jane’s arrival as their cue to leave. She was relieved that Bill didn’t insist they stay at the table.

“Did I hear you say that there was something under my saddle?” Jane asked as if the question had no particular significance.

“A burr,” he said. “One of those stickers that grows on bushes. That’s what made your horse jump. He’s a very gentle animal, not very exciting to ride but steady and predictable. I couldn’t understand why he would have tried to throw you like that.”

“How did it get there?” she asked politely as she added dressing to her salad.

He shrugged and explained that there were any number of possibilities. The groom might have missed it after the horse’s last outing. It could have caught on the saddle when someone laid the saddle on the ground. Or the horse might have brushed against a bush while he was tied up during their breakfast. Jane accepted all the possibilities even though she knew he didn’t believe any of them. He thought one of his children had put it under her saddle, and he had confronted them with his suspicions. Naturally, they denied it.

Jane had no desire to wring confessions out of Cassie and Craig. But she wanted Bill to face the implications of what he suspected. His children were determined to drive her off.

“I want to apologize for their behavior today,” Bill said. “But I hope you don’t think that it is all their fault. I’m just as guilty. I haven’t been a very good father.”

“It may not have anything to do with you,” Jane answered. “I think it’s me. They don’t want me around.”

“That’s not true. They don’t even know you yet,” he said.

“Bill, it’s nothing personal. They don’t hate me. They just don’t like anyone who might, in some way, try to take their mother’s place.” She let the idea sink in and then said, “Maybe I ought to leave.”

He seemed horrified. “No, please. I’m sorry about what happened today. It will get better.”

“I might not make it through the night,” she told him. “Your kids don’t take prisoners.” Then she threw up her hands hopelessly. “They don’t want me, Bill. They don’t want anyone playing the role of your wife.”

“I want you,” he said. He was dumbstruck by the admission he had just made. Jane looked at him wide-eyed, as amazed as he seemed to be.

“I need you,” he added.

“Why?” she whispered. “You have everything.”

He shook his head slowly. “I have nothing. Please! Give it another day.”

She couldn’t believe that she was suddenly feeling sorry for a billionaire, the most important man in global communications. But that wasn’t who was sitting across the table from her. This William Andrews seemed hollow, a frail shell about to collapse under its own weight. The global dynamo was out of energy.

They sat looking at each other, William weary and Jane confused. “Okay,” she agreed with a quick smile. “But no more horses.”

He nodded. “No more horses.”

They were by themselves for the rest of the day. He made no effort to involve her with the children, and even when they crossed paths with one of them, he kept his attention fixed on her. He didn’t seem to care where Cassie and Craig decided to eat or even if they ate at all. Instead, the two of them took over the kitchen and cut vegetables for an elaborate salad. Jane experimented with the dressing, and he made a great show of selecting the wine. Then they carried their food out to a deck with a market-umbrella-shaded glass-top table and canvas porch chairs. The sun began to set while they enjoyed their dinner, and they were both stunned by the color it cast across the lawns and the hayfields.

“Is this where you plan to live when you retire?” she asked.

“Retire?” Andrews had to smile. He hardly ever used the word.

Jane caught his meaning. “Well, after you own everything on earth and there’s nothing left to buy.”

“Actually, I’m thinking of selling the place. I had it on the market two years ago, but the kids wailed and carried on so much that I changed my mind.”

“Why?” She gestured out to the pastoral splendor that was taking on more color with each passing second.

“I’m not a farmer and, as I said earlier, I’m not into horses.” His lips pursed for a second, and he added, “Besides, not all the memories are happy ones.”

She could understand. This was Kay’s house. It had been her architect and her decorators. She had trained some of the horses. It must have been impossible for him to look around without seeing Kay everywhere. And that had to tear at his heart. If anyone was going to take her place, she would be better off living far away from Kay’s many ghosts.

She decided on bed early, using her morning ordeal as an implicit excuse. Her back ached and her arms felt like lead. He was properly concerned and suggested that he take her to a hospital, but Jane insisted that a couple of painkillers and a good night’s sleep would do the trick. She left him in the living room opening another bottle of wine.

Jane woke up early in the morning, truly uncomfortable from the cuts and bruises on her knees and elbows, and with a genuine backache. She dressed quietly and slipped down to the kitchen, where she made a pot of coffee. Then she carried a steaming mug outside so that she could watch the sunrise. She was surprised to find Cassie, still in her pajamas, sitting on the steps to one of the porches, said “Good morning” and got a “hi” in response. That was all the encouragement she needed to sit down next to the girl.

They watched silently as the eastern horizon colored to a blue gray. “Ahh,” Jane allowed when the sun, like a cherry, popped into view. A minute later she asked, “Don’t you wonder why it’s so big and bright at sunset, and so frail in the morning?”

“Are you sleeping with my father?” Cassie asked, cutting to a question that was more important to her.

“Of course not!” Jane said instantly, trying to sound indignant.

Cassie showed no reaction. She kept looking at the sunrise, squinting into what was becoming a golden glow. Jane quickly regretted her outraged tone. It was a fair question from a young woman Cassie’s age. Maybe she even had a right to know.

“Are you going to?” That was a tougher question.

“Your father and I have known each other only a few days, Cassie. We haven’t talked about it.” That was true, as it stood, but then she went further. “I haven’t even thought about it.” That wasn’t true at all. But she hadn’t thought about it with any relish. It was more in terms of how she was going to handle the situation when it came up.

“You shouldn’t,” Cassie said in a tone that offered advice rather giving an order.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you and your brother,” Jane said, thinking that was the point the girl was trying to make. “I’d never try to take your mother’s place.”

“Is that what my father wants you to do?”

“Of course not! Your father loved your mother. He still loves her. He talks about her all the time. No one will ever take her place.”

The girl sneered and turned her head to one side. “Then why wasn’t he ever with her? Why were they always fighting?”

“That’s not true,” Jane insisted. Then she realized that she had no way of knowing whether it was true or not. “They were both very busy people,” she tried less positively. “There were demands on their time that kept them apart. And even people who love each other sometimes have differences. But that’s not fighting.”

Cassie shrugged and stared down at her bare toes. Her expression said that the conversation was over. Finally she stood, turned, and started up the steps past Jane. Jane reached up and caught her hand. “Cassie, please put your mind at ease. I’m not trying to take anyone’s place.”

Cassie looked down at her. “I hope not,” she said.