Chapter 12

“Scaring your horses, slashing your tire—what do they have against you?”

Allison swallowed hard. “My tire? You think they did that, too?” It was probably true, but explaining it all to Shane wasn’t something she wanted to do.

“I have reason to believe they did, but why? I know they still have it in for me, but what did you ever do to them?”

His gaze burned intensely, the way it always had when he was dead serious about something. Could she risk letting someone else know about the silent deal she’d struck with Duane and Darren in February, the day she’d seen them hunting in her woods? The deal had sickened her to make, but she’d had no other choice.

Grasping Shane by the sleeve of his denim shirt, she drew him over to Pride’s stall. The gash was healing nicely, and the buckskin watched them curiously, nudging at her over the top of his stall. “It all started with him.” She scratched Pride’s forehead for a moment. “But let’s get back inside before Lizzie decides to come down here.”

On the way out, she peeked in Cayenne’s stall. The pony lay curled in the far corner, apparently unconcerned about the fuss the other horses had made.

At least I can reassure Lizzie he’s all right.

She turned out the light, and quickly made her way up to the house with Shane alongside. By now, the abrasions on her leg throbbed worse, and she hated that she had to hold onto his arm.

Once she convinced Lizzie her pony was fine, her baby girl went reluctantly off to bed again but threw curious glances Shane’s way. Thank goodness he only nodded and said nothing more to her. Allison could only hope he knew there was time to help their daughter come to terms with what she’d learned, and to eventually accept him as an authority figure. But they’d all had enough excitement for this night.

Sitting on the porch a little while later, Allison twisted her hands nervously together, deciding how to tell Shane about what happened in the past year. “One day last fall, I was driving past the Potter’s farm, and I saw this horse stuck in a small pen. I couldn’t imagine why they had a horse—they’ve only ever had a few chickens—and I was pretty sure they didn’t have a clue how to take care of him.” And I was right. “He was okay then, but over the next month, I purposely drove by their place, just to see if he was all right. He didn’t have any shelter, and with winter coming on, I was worried. I called the county animal control and asked them to check on him. They said they did and everything seemed fine.”

“Even though the horse had no shelter?”

“They told Duane he had to provide some kind of shelter, and the next time I drove by, there was a flimsy lean-to slapped up in the pen.” She knew he would understand how much this had upset her. “I asked Doc Brewster if he’d treated the horse at all. He hadn’t but said he’d stop by their place. Then the weather got bad, and Doc got sick with bronchitis. So…I went there.” She cringed and waited for his reaction.

“Alone?” At her nod, he rubbed two fingers between his eyes and shook his head. “That was stupid.”

So much for understanding. In despair, she threw her hands up in the air and glared at him. “Well, it wasn’t like I had anyone to go with me, and this horse needed help! By then, his ribs were showing, and he was lame with an infected hoof. I told Duane he needed to let me have him, and I even offered to buy Pride, but he refused.”

The day of the confrontation leapt sharp and clear in her mind. Remembering the cold wind that blew, and the sad shape Pride was in by then still gave her chills. She’d been so desperate to save him, she’d actually shouted at the two brothers, who’d only laughed at her.

Shane leaned back in the swing and shook his head in disbelief. “What the hell were they doing with a horse anyway?”

“I asked myself the same thing.” She lifted her hands, palms out in confusion. “I heard they’d done some work on a car, and the guy didn’t have the money to pay them. So he gave them Pride.”

He snorted. “So, what did they plan to do with him?”

A shudder rippled over her. “How should I know? But in the shape he was in, no one would have bought him. He wasn’t going to make it through the winter, so I…took him.”

Shane tipped his head as if to see her face better. “Wait a minute. You…took their horse? Without their permission?”

“If I’d have waited for that, Pride would be dead.” In her mind, that was the finality of it.

“How did you…?”

Recalling the incident was difficult even this many months later. She wrapped her arms around herself to stave off the memory of that dark, drizzly night and the sick horse he’d been. “While Lizzie was at a movie with Ronnie, I went there with my trailer. Duane and Darren are never home on a Friday night, so I loaded up Pride and brought him here. I told Lizzie I got him at an auction. I kept him in the barn for a while, he was so thin anyway, and only Doc knew I had him, because he had to come over and treat his hoof. But he wouldn’t tell. Doc knows what a bunch of scum those two are.” The swing swayed as Shane moved to face her, his knee brushing hers. In spite of his questioning her judgment, she had to squelch a rush of emotion that set her skin to tingling.

“Didn’t they suspect before now that you have him?”

Which is the whole issue. “They’ve known, since the day I caught them poaching deer in my woods. It was a nice day, so I’d put the horses out, including Pride, and then I heard gunshots. Hunting season was long over, so I went down to the end of the pasture to make sure the horses were okay. I saw Darren and Duane’s car there, hidden in the trees. I waited until they came packing the deer out.”

“Why didn’t you just call the sheriff?” He lifted her hair off her shoulder and tucked it back. “Instead of trying to handle it yourself.”

“Because I was pretty sure they’d seen their horse.” She heaved a heavy sigh. “They could have turned me in.”

“As you could have turned them in for poaching,” he pointed out the obvious.

She nodded and absently rubbed her leg. “We all had something to hide, but I had Lizzie to think about.”

“What happened then?”

Their smirks turned my stomach. “They saw me watching…and eyed Pride where he grazed in the pasture. Then they tossed the deer in the back of their vehicle, got in, and left…and I let them go.”

“And you’ve been afraid of them ever since.” He traced one finger along her cheek. “That’s no way to live.”

She met the gaze of his summer blue eyes and tried to make him understand. “And yet, just as with you, I had no choice.”

When he nodded in agreement, she let him draw her into the curve of his shoulder, and for a while the slow movement of the swing and Shane’s warmth pushed away the memory of the hard decision she’d made.

A short time later, Allison left the swing to check on Lizzie. Shane stood and stretched. It might be best if he went home now, but reluctance to leave her alone nudged him to follow her inside. While she went upstairs, he put his phone number in the contacts of her cell phone, the old flip kind that didn’t require a code to unlock it.

When she came back into the kitchen, he noticed the dusty shadows lurking beneath her golden brown eyes, and the way she limped over to the sink made his heart flip over. For the first time, it truly sank in just what she’d been through, and how she’d managed to stay strong all these years.

“Will you be all right?” he asked. She didn’t reply, so he insisted, “Promise to call me if you hear anything else.” He handed her the phone.

“We’re fine.” She took it but lifted her chin. “As we were fine all the years you weren’t here.”

The comment hurt, mostly because it was true. Yet, he couldn’t help but worry now that he was here. “Maybe you should re-think talking to the sheriff, about what’s going on. For Lizzie’s and your own safety. The Potters couldn’t be trusted ten years ago, and they can’t be trusted now.”

She shook her head. “The problem is, I have no proof…and they do.” For a moment, she turned to him and put her head against his shoulder. “And tonight, I’m really tired. Can we just let it go for now?”

Shane held her close and didn’t ask for anymore. He couldn’t blame her independence, and he couldn’t expect her to want to talk further about the two men who had caused both of them a lifetime of grief. But as sure as night followed day, he would make sure the Potter brothers didn’t bother her again.

****

With a full morning of emergency surgeries at the clinic and the afternoon busy with farm calls, Shane didn’t have a chance to call Allison until after six the next day. Then he worried when she didn’t answer and decided to drive to the farm right away. After the things she’d told him, who knew what might be wrong?

Maybe she left her phone in the house, or forgot to plug it in. Or maybe the old thing just quit working.

But he had another reason for going there, and they mewed in the basket Sandy had prepared before she left early to visit Matthew. He covered the tiny kittens with a square of soft pink flannel, and as he hoisted the basket under his arm, he hoped Allison wouldn’t mind the surprise.

Just as he was ready to lock up, the office phone rang. For a second, he debated letting the call go to the answering machine, but knowing it could be another client with an injured pet or a farmer with a sick cow, he set down the basket and hurried back inside. Pressing the button for line one, he opened his mouth to speak, but Sandy’s voice cut him short.

“I’m…so glad…I caught you,” she sputtered, breathless. “I left my phone in the car because it doesn’t work up here anyway, and I couldn’t remember your cell number.”

In that instant, his stomach lurched up to meet his throat, and he had to swallow hard. Had Doc taken a turn for the worse?

“Sandy, what is it?” He gripped the receiver tight in his hand and steadied himself to take bad news.

“He’s awake! Oh my, he’s sitting up and acting ornery just like the old Matthew. They said it happened right before I got here. He just…woke up.”

Shane let out a long sigh of relief and had to press two fingers to his eyes to hold back the sudden rush of emotion flooding him.

“Dr. McBride…Shane?” Her voice was tearful. “Are you okay?”

He still couldn’t trust his own for a couple of seconds. Finally, he managed to get past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, Sandy, I couldn’t be better. That’s…just the best news you could have given me.”

“I know how it is with you two.” She stopped, and the distinct sound of her blowing her nose came through the line. “You’re the closest he’s got to having a son.”

And he’s the only father I’ve ever known. I owe him so much. “Is he…in any pain? Can he talk?”

Sandy laughed. “Well, you know he doesn’t say a whole lot anyway, but he asked for something to drink, and he’s complaining about the IV.”

He could picture that, and the thought made him grin. “I’ll be up as soon as I can, but I have to see Allison first.”

“That’s okay. Why don’t you wait ‘til tomorrow? His niece just got here, and they’re limiting his visitors to two at a time. You go on and see Allison. She needs you, too.”

Bless Sandy. Not only was she efficient, she was also perceptive and a hopeless romantic.

“Then tell Doc I’ll be there tomorrow around noon. Give him…give him my best.” That’s all he could manage at the moment. If he said anymore, he would lose it for sure.

On the way to Allison’s Farm, Shane whistled while the warm breeze from the open window of his truck blew in his face. He couldn’t wait to share that Matthew was out of the coma. Knowing how close they’d come to losing the old man, it was truly the best news he’d heard all week.

The kittens’ plaintive mewing drew his attention to the basket on the truck seat. He darted them a quick glance. The pink flannel blanket tucked over the top of it moved, and a tiny bobble-headed kitten poked his nose out, followed by scrabbling paws as he was joined by his two siblings. Shane chuckled and focused back on the road. Taking one hand from the steering wheel, he gently pushed them back into the basket with one finger. “Hang on guys. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” They clutched at his finger with pointy claws and nosed about, searching for their mother with eyes barely opened. Poor little critters.

When he turned into Allison’s drive, he saw her at the far end of the pasture, standing at the fence and looking off toward the woods. Her hair, free from its usual ponytail, drifted about her shoulders. It appeared she’d already brought the horses in for the night, so why was she out there?

He parked by the barn and scooped up the basket of kittens. First, he would find Lizzie, then he’d go see what had Allison so disturbed.

His daughter was in the barn with her pony, brushing him and singing along with the radio.

My daughter.

The realization struck him and sent a jolt of joy as well as apprehension surging through him. Holding the basket of kittens, he stopped to listen to her voice, and his heart filled with pride. It was sweet and clear and reminded him of his grandmother, who had loved to sing. He still missed the woman who had tried her hardest to give him a normal life for as long as she could. What would she have thought about Lizzie? If she had lived longer, there wouldn’t be a girl with long, dark braids singing to her pony right now. His life—all of their lives—would have been so different.

He cleared his throat, which drew Lizzie’s attention.

She gave him a half-smile. “Hi. Mom’s outside somewhere.”

“Yeah, I know. I saw her when I drove in.” Tucking the basket under one arm, he went over and stroked the pony’s neck. For such an old fella, he was in good shape, thanks to Lizzie’s attention. “I…wanted to talk to you first.”

“Why me?” She didn’t look at him now and kept brushing.

“I have a favor to ask. You see, someone brought a mother cat and kittens into the clinic today. The mother is quite young and sick, and she can’t take care of her babies anymore. I’m so busy taking care of Doc Brewster’s patients, I can’t care for them properly.”

When the kittens mewed plaintively, Lizzie stuck her head around the pony and spied the basket. The blanket moved again as the kittens tried to climb out. He lifted it to reveal the three furry babies.

“Oh my gosh, they are so tiny!” She put the brush down and came to take the basket from him. “How old are they?”

“Maybe ten days? The people who brought the mother cat in found her and the kittens under their porch. As you can see, their eyes haven’t been open long.”

Lizzie lifted one of the babies and cuddled her close. The kitten nosed at her cheek, searching for its dinner. “They’re hungry, I’ll bet. Do you have a bottle?”

Shane quickly produced the kitten bottle from his shirt pocket. “Sandy fixed a few of these, and I have some cans of kitten milk in the truck. Do you think you can feed them until they’re old enough to eat regular food? If it’s okay with your mom.”

His little girl grinned. “Sure. She won’t mind. I’ll just keep them in my room for now.” She let the kitten nuzzle against her.

While Shane wasn’t sure Allison would love the idea, he didn’t think she’d protest too much. He’d once watched her feed some orphaned baby birds until they could fly. And though he could have sent the kittens to the local shelter, bringing them here had suddenly seemed a good way to bridge the gap between Lizzie and himself.

The two kittens left in the basket mewed loudly now, and Lizzie put the one she’d been holding back. “Just let me finish with Cayenne and get him in his stall. Then I’ll take them up to the house.”

He waited, watching how gentle she was with the pony, so much like her mother in her ways. Was a relationship possible between them? Would she accept him as her father? At this moment, he could only hope.

When Cayenne was happily munching from his hay net, his daughter took the basket and bottle from him. “Come on little ones,” she murmured to the mewing babies. “Lizzie’s going to take care of you now. Don’t you worry.”

Just as they left the barn, she turned to him, her brows scrunched into a frown. “I’m kind of confused, you know.”

He tipped his head in question. “About what?”

“What I should call you now. I’m not sure I can call you Dad, because, you know, I always thought my dad was…my dad.”

He shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and considered this. “Then how about you just call me Shane, until, you know, you might feel different.”

“It’s okay with you?” Her voice still sounded uncertain, but her big blue eyes met his, and their sweetness melted away his own concerns.

“Sure, as long as I can still call you Shortstuff.” He winked at her, and she winked back her approval. “You go ahead, and I’ll come up in a bit to tell you some things you need to know about taking care of the kittens. After I talk to your mom.”

She gave him that Lizzie smile, with her nose wrinkling and eyes sparkling. When she started for the house, he watched her go, proud she had worked through this without acting out.

With a sigh of relief, he set off for the pasture. When he reached Allison, she didn’t even notice until Gypsy gave a soft woof and came running from where she’d been sniffing along the fence.

“Hey, old girl.” He ruffled the collie’s ears. “What are you two up to?” Gypsy licked at his hands, then took off to run around the empty pasture. He leaned one arm along the top fence rail and tried to see what had her attention. “What’s up? Someone around again?”

“Not someone.” Allison motioned to the ground. “But maybe something.”

He followed her gaze to a single, large paw print left in the dirt just inside the fence. At the sight of it, a jolt of surprise rocketed through him. What the hell was this? Crouching down to study it, he thought about prints he’d seen like this elsewhere, and how the sight of them had sent goosebumps prickling up his backbone. He looked about in the dirt for any others, but if there’d been more prints, they’d been obliterated by the horses’ scrambling hooves.

“What…what do you suppose it is?” She kept her voice low. “Coyote? We had a pack a few summers ago, but I thought they’d moved on.”

He reached beneath the fence rail and laid his own hand beside the print. It easily matched his palm. “Not coyote,” he said. “The claws are sheathed.” He raised his gaze in time to see her shudder as she glanced about the wide, empty pasture. His own throat tightened when he considered the possibility.

“What then? Bobcat? I’ve heard a few were spotted by the river.”

Shane straightened up. “Maybe.” He scanned the pasture again, then glanced off toward the woods, and finally settled on Allison. Did he dare say what was in his mind? He didn’t want to frighten her, but this was serious business. Better he told her. “I’ve seen prints like this, but not here.”

“Where?” She rubbed her arms. “Where did you see them?”

He glanced away for a moment, squinting into the sun where it slipped behind the trees. “In a canyon, in Wyoming. Where I was hiking.”

“Did…did you see what made them?”

Remembering that day sent a shiver prickling up the back of his neck. “No, but I was pretty sure it saw me.”

He faced her again, but Allison had turned toward the house.

“Maybe we should check on Lizzie,” he heard her murmur.

Before he followed, Shane pulled out his phone and took a quick picture of the print. Would it be enough to convince the local conservation officer something unusual was stalking Allison’s Farm?