seventeen

Jessie couldn’t do anything but stare at her, the last words ringing in her head. We never saw Harding again.

Jessie didn’t ask the question that came to the forefront of her mind. She knew that it had been pricking around before. But now she couldn’t disregard the implications.

Had her father had anything to do with the fire? She couldn’t force herself to put it any other way. She couldn’t allow herself to consider the word murder.

But the words didn’t come, and Sarah had looked very tired. For the first time, she looked every year of her age.

“You’ll have to excuse me,” Sarah said. She had leaned against the wall for a moment, obviously steadying herself. “I think I need some rest.”

“Of course,” Jessie said, feeling shaky herself.

“I had hoped we could go for a ride, but perhaps … tomorrow.”

“I would like that,” Jessie said, wondering whether the older woman would be up to it then, either.

“Why don’t you go ahead and take a horse,” Sarah said. “Ross can go with you. Supper will be at seven.”

She started to leave, then stopped at the door. “Thank you for coming, Jessie. You can’t know how much it means to me.”

Jessie sat down on the bed as the door closed behind Sarah. While she’d known that something terrible must have happened to make her father leave everything he knew and loved, she’d tried to avoid the notion that it was anything he’d done. Now she wasn’t so sure. Could he have had something to do with the fire? With the deaths of his wife and brother?

She shivered and felt herself crying inside for the young man her father had been. He loved her more than life.

Betrayed not only by a wife he adored, but also by an older brother he’d made into a hero.

She realized now why he’d never smiled, why he’d preferred the bottle to life. She only wished that she’d been … more important to him. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to let anyone be that important again.

Ben whined, and she remembered he hadn’t been for a walk. She took him down the steps to the front and walked him over to the paddock. There were several horses munching grass. None of them paid any attention to either of them. She wondered whether her father used to walk over here and lean over the fence.

Grief swelled inside her. She felt as if she’d just lost her father. His death was as fresh to her now as it had been the day of the funeral.

She looked out over the rock formations. It was afternoon; dusk was several hours off.

She wanted to ride back to the rock formation called the Saddle and look below as she had with Sarah.

Ross’s pickup was gone. She didn’t know whether Sarah had known that. It didn’t matter, though. In fact, she preferred riding alone at the moment. She had to be alone. She wanted to see the Sunset as her father had seen it.

Jessie took Ben up to her room. She’d brought his favorite blanket and she placed it on the floor. “I’ll be back soon,” she said. She hated to leave him, but she feared that his thick fur would pick up needles from cactus. Or that he might have a personal encounter with a snake. As long as he had the blanket, he’d know he was safe.

She changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, pulled on a pair of boots she’d purchased in Atlanta, then reassured Ben once more. She took the steps two at a time, eager now to be on a horse.

Dan’l was in the stables.

“Sarah suggested I go for a ride,” she said, fudging the truth only a little. “Can you suggest a horse?”

“Carefree is fine now,” he offered. “Like to try him again?” Then he hesitated.

She knew he was thinking of Ross and didn’t want to give him a chance to think about it. “That would be great,” she replied. At least, she would know this time what to expect.

She watched as he saddled the horse. He offered to help her mount, but she easily swung up into the saddle.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” she said. “Before dark.”

“I’ll come looking for you if you’re not,” he said.

“Not to worry,” she said, adjusting her body to the saddle. She guided the horse out of the barn and down the road. Carefree didn’t need much urging. In several moments, they were cantering toward the Saddle.

She felt the breeze against her face, fully aware it was cooling moisture on her cheeks. Her eyes hurt, but the wind was cleansing. She wondered if her father had ever wanted to come back, whether he missed the red rock and the yucca and the junipers.

Following the route she and Sarah had taken days ago, she rode toward the Saddle and found the path upward without trouble. She guided the horse up the steep trail, letting him do most of the work. This time she knew not to yell whoa, and to hold the reins lightly. Carefree knew what to do far better than she.

Jessie reached the top and dismounted. She went to where she and Sarah had stood and looked down at the ranch below. She used a hand to wipe a tear from her face. “I’m here, Daddy,” she said. “Part of you came back.”

She tried to see him as a young man. A man in love. A man doing what he loved, and that apparently had been ranching. Where had all that youth and hope gone? Because it had been long gone when she knew him. How much courage had it taken to keep her when her mother deserted them? Had he ever even loved her mother? He’d never mentioned either her mother or Lori.

She wished she’d known him better.

“I loved you,” she whispered to the wind. “I will always love you.”

Then she saw movement below. A truck pulling into the road to the ranch. Ross. She suspected he wouldn’t be happy that she’d taken one of his horses. Well, that was his problem. She turned and looked in another direction, at the vast panorama. The clear sky was darkening as it often did in late afternoon, and the sun looked like molten gold.

Her roots lay here in the rough soil, the rocky terrain, in the splendid hills and glorious red rock formations. For the first time, she felt close to her father, as if he were looking down at her with an approval she’d never received as a child.

She knew then that she could never vote to sell the Sunset.

She didn’t know how long she lingered. An hour, perhaps. So many memories flashed through her mind, so many images. She was filled with feelings and emotions so tumultuous, so strong that they physically hurt.

She turned to go when she heard the whinny of another horse. For a moment, she felt a shiver of fear. She was out here alone. But any apprehension faded when she saw Ross appear on the trail. For a moment, her chest tightened, but then she slowly relaxed. She reminded herself that she wasn’t going to run any longer. Not from fear. Not from uncertainty.

Ross’s expression, though, was enough to put the fear of God into anyone. He glowered at her as he slid down from the horse.

“Dammit,” he said in a low, furious voice. “Don’t you have any sense?”

She bristled. “Sarah said …”

“I don’t give a damn what Sarah said.” He stalked over to her, his eyes furious.

“Your horse is perfectly fine,” she defended herself, thinking he was afraid she might hurt the horse again. “Dan’l said …”

“I’m not worried about the horse,” he said, interrupting her for the second time.

The admission stunned her. That was all she thought he cared about. Her chin lifted. “I can take care of myself,” she said. “I’ve been doing it since I was seventeen.”

“Yeah,” he said sarcastically. “That’s why you got lost last week.” His lips thinned as he added, “And there’s some maniac running around with a rifle. I’m sure Sarah did not mean for you to go riding alone.”

“According to you, I’m a part owner,” she said stiffly. “I have the right to go riding whenever …”

She didn’t have a chance to continue. He was looming over her, his eyes angry, and his body tense. She was going to step back when his hand reached out. His fingers were like steel around her wrists.

“Dammit, Jessie, watch it.”

She looked behind her. The ground behind her sloped to a steep decline. She had unconsciously stepped back further than she’d thought.

He drew her away from the edge, and she was in his arms, his lips pressed down on hers. Hard and hot and angry. Her own lips responded, partly out of the realization of how she’d nearly tumbled off the side of a cliff. Whether it was fear or grief or passion, her entire body responded to his touch. She felt as if he’d sparked a thousand tiny charges inside her.

She found herself clinging to him, to his strength. His hard-muscled thighs pressed against hers and strong, tanned arms still held on to her.

He took his lips from hers. “Ah, Jessie,” he said, his voice a husky whisper.

Her heart started beating strongly. The very air was suddenly electrified. It crackled. Hissed. Sparked.

Then his lips brushed against hers, and his fingers ran up and down her arms in caressingly sensuous trails. The air around them turned as molten as that in the heart of a volcano.

The grief she’d just felt, still felt, turned into desperate need. She’d grieved alone as a girl. More than grieved because she’d felt so much guilt. And she’d never cried. She’d held it all inside until today. And now Ross was here, and somehow she felt connected to him in a way she’d never known before.

Yet he was fighting the attraction between them. She could tell it in the tension of his body. She didn’t understand why. She only knew she needed him at this moment, needed to fill the emptiness she’d felt since hearing at least part of her father’s history. His lips slipped away, and her head somehow relaxed against his chest, against the solid strength.

She heard his soft sigh as his arms tightened around her. For the first time in her life, she felt protected.

An illusion?

Her gaze met his, and for a moment his mask slipped. She saw a kind of hopelessness, a pain that ripped into her. His chest quivered as he held her, and his eyes looked away as if trying to hide some emotion.

His lips touched hers again and he deepened the kiss with a slow sensuous tenderness that reached down into the deepest part of her soul. Her mouth opened to his, and the tenderness became something else altogether. Something explosive.

She traced her fingers along his back as if she couldn’t get enough of him, even as his hands dug themselves through her hair. She closed her eyes, and she felt as if she were being transported to a magical place full of marvelous sensations.

She found herself doing things she’d never done before, her body molding itself to his. These new feelings enchanted her. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, feel him.

Tremors ran through her, even as his fingers trailed fire wherever they went.

A groan came from deep within him, then he released her lips. “Damn,” he muttered. “Not here.” With what seemed supreme effort, he pulled away, but her hand caught his, and his fingers wrapped around hers.

Her body ached. It was a mess of writhing nerve ends.

She leaned into him, looking out over the valley below, trying desperately to regain some equanimity. She forced herself to concentrate on something else, not on the proximity of his body.

“Sarah told me about my father, today,” she said after a moment, hearing the strain in her own voice. “Did you know about Lori and …?”

“I’ve heard the rumors,” he said in that low drawl.

“Do you think my father could have …”

“I don’t know, Jessie. It’s all speculation. I don’t think anyone really knows.” His fingers tightened around hers.

“I never thought he loved me,” she said. “I was a burden, someone who slowed him down, kept him from being all he could be.”

“If he had a burden, it wasn’t you,” he said gently. “He must have loved you a great deal to keep you with him.”

Jessie stood there, stunned. She’d never thought of it that way. She swallowed hard. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Obviously uncomfortable, he shrugged, but his fingers tightened around hers.

They stood there several moments. Then she struggled to change the subject. “Sarah mentioned that Heath had stolen money, that he’d invested it in some company.”

“True enough, according to family legend,” Ross said. “Heath had just sold a herd of cattle. He’d received a cashier’s check, a substantial sum. Money needed for feed, stock, salaries. Heath apparently used it to buy bearer bonds in a new company. That company is now worth billions, and the bonds millions.”

“What happened to them?”

“No one knows. They’ve never been found. I personally think they were destroyed in the fire.”

She turned around and looked up at him. “Does everyone believe that?”

“I don’t know,” he said simply.

Her blood chilled. Harding could have been the last person to see Heath. But if her father had the bonds, surely he would have cashed them by now. They wouldn’t have lived hand-to-mouth so many years. Or maybe the bonds weren’t worth much until recently?

His arms went around her again, but this time they offered security, comfort, even as she felt the heat from his body, the hardness of it. “I don’t think anyone really believes they still exist,” he said, amending his last statement.

She didn’t believe him. All of a sudden, the burglaries, the intrusion into her hotel room, the questions about whether her father had left her anything started to make sense.

“It was a long time ago,” he said, his hands going up to her shoulders and massaging the area around her neck. Her body reacted, but her mind was spinning.

He let go and stood watching her for a moment, his eyes veiled. Then he held out his hand. “I think we had better go.”

The sun was low, dropping quickly in a sky darkening to a rich fine royal blue. The last, lingering rays bounced off the red rock, making the walls glow with almost mystical light. She felt torn apart, lured by the beauty, repelled by the story she was piecing together bit by bit. Anger. Grief. Betrayal. She felt them all. As well as the lingering desire that Ross always kindled in her.

She didn’t take his hand. She had to sort out the emotions, the suspicions gathering in her mind, the feelings in her heart. He had the power to blind her. It was something she couldn’t afford now. Jessie walked over to her horse, aware that he was right behind her. She felt the heat of his body, the pull of his presence.

She took the reins, but he stepped in front of her and took them.

“I want you to promise me you won’t ride alone again,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “I won’t make a promise I don’t intend to keep.” Her body was still humming, still warm from his touch. But now the magic was gone. “And don’t blame Dan’l. Sarah said …”

“I can imagine what Sarah said,” he said. His voice hardened. “Don’t you realize what she’s doing?”

“Trying to bind me to the land?”

A muscle reacted in his cheek. “Yes,” he finally said.

“And you don’t approve?”

“I don’t want to see you manipulated.”

Her heart fell. And ached. It was obvious he didn’t think much of her intelligence or abilities. “And you think I can be manipulated so easily.”

His dark eyes bore into her. “No,” he said. “But you may not have been exposed to a family like the Clementses before.”

Her back stiffened. “It’s not really your business,” she said, forcing a coolness into her voice.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned back to his original attack. “I thought you would have realized on your own that it’s dangerous to ride alone.”

“Because I might get lost or because someone might shoot me?”

“Both.”

“I know the landmarks now. I remember everything you told me about a cutting horse, and I don’t think there will be another hunter prowling around after injuring a congressman.”

“And me?” he asked in a neutral voice. “Do you think I’m safe?” It was a challenge.

It was a question she couldn’t answer. He wasn’t safe. Not at all. But not in the way he meant. He didn’t frighten her. Her feelings did.

A muscle jerked in his cheek. He took her silence as a negative.

She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid of you, if that’s what you mean.”

“Aren’t you? You couldn’t run fast enough the other night.”

She wished he hadn’t thrown that up to her. “I didn’t run,” she protested. “I had to get home.”

“You don’t lie very well, Jessica.”

She could hardly refute that. She knew she was a bad liar. Instead, she reached for the reins. “I think you said we should get back.”

He stared at her intently, then put a finger to her cheek. “I’m just trying to make you aware of the dangers of trusting people you don’t know.”

She turned away from him. That touch was far too explosive. “Did they ever find out who shot Marc?”

“I think I’m still their prime suspect.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Why?”

“I don’t think you would miss.”

Astonishment crossed his face. Then he chuckled. “I suppose that’s a compliment.”

“Kind of. I suppose.”

“Does anything frighten you?”

You do. “People breaking into my house.” She hadn’t meant to mention that. It just popped out.

His eyes studied her. “Has anyone done that?”

“Yes.”

“Recently?” His expression was dark, unfathomable.

“Yes,” she said. “Do you know why anyone would do that?” Why hadn’t Sarah mentioned it to him?

“It couldn’t have been a random burglary?”

“It could have, until it happened to my bookstore as well.”

He turned away from her and looked down at the ranch house, then back at her. “Now I insist you don’t go riding alone again.”

She bristled at his tone. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No,” he said.

“But you know more than you’ve told me,” she accused, taking a stab in the dark. He stiffened, and she knew she was right.

He hadn’t moved a muscle, nor had anything changed in his eyes. But she just knew.

“Damn you,” she said. She was tired of pulling out one small fact after another. It was like a giant jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing.

“That night … you tried to frighten me away.” Her frustration turned to anger as she realized he was part of the conspiracy of silence. “Did you know you picked the best possible way?”

His gaze was steady. “What do you mean?”

“The Clementses seem to know everything about me, even as they keep everything about themselves from me. Did they find out I was raped when I was seventeen?”

He stilled. Everything seemed to still around her. Even the rustle of a breeze through the scrub. It was the first time she’d ever mentioned that night to anyone.

Pain flitted over his face, and his eyes closed for a moment. His head fell back so his face looked up toward the sun. After a long silence, he opened his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never imagined …”

“I knew almost immediately after I left your house that you couldn’t have done anything like that.”

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t have used it as a weapon to frighten me away. And I just … knew.”

He walked over to a rock and put his foot on it. His posture looked relaxed, but the cords in his neck were strained, his jaw clenched. “I didn’t rape her,” he said. The words seemed torn from his mouth. “But I spent a month in the county jail for it. Her … father caught us in her bedroom. I was an Indian to him, a ‘breed.’ A breed who had already been in trouble for stealing a car. Tara was terrified of him. He was supposed to be in town, and she’d said we would have time to …” Ross shrugged. “He came back unexpectedly. When Tara heard him come inside, she screamed.” He hesitated, then gave her a crooked smile. “I was strong for a kid, but he pulverized me, then called the cops.”

Some of her anger faded, replaced with horror for him. Her gaze had not left his face. “What happened?”

“Sarah came riding to the rescue again. She hired a detective who discovered that Tara had been sleeping with nearly every boy in school, then she offered a hefty sum for Tara to leave Sedona. She recanted, then disappeared. The charges were dropped. But some folks have long memories.”

“And the rest of the family? Did they believe you?”

“Halden did. Marc … well, Marc was afraid it would hurt his fledgling career. He was running for the Arizona house then.” He hesitated, then added, “God, I was scared. And angry. But I never would have … used that if I had known that you …”

There was so much guilt, even agony in his voice, that she went over to him and touched his face. “You had no way of knowing.” She paused, then asked, “But why?”

He shrugged. “Someone would have told you. And after April’s escapade and the shooting, I thought it would be best if you left until they knew for sure whether you were Harding’s daughter. Just think about it, Jess. You went riding and were abandoned. There was a rifle shot when you were out riding. Now you tell me you had two recent burglaries.”

“Whoever did the shooting wasn’t after me.”

“No,” he agreed. “But nothing like that has happened before. No stray hunters. No stray bullets.”

A frisson of fear darted up her back. She’d had too many of the same thoughts herself. “You’re saying I’ve stirred something up.”

He looked grim. “Something like that.”

“But wasn’t there friction about the ranch before I came?”

“Yes.”

“Then why … would anyone burglarize me? I don’t have anything. Not worth stealing.”

“Someone must think you do.”

Her throat tightened.

“Jess?”

She tried to keep the panic down even as she noted his shortening of her name. No one had ever called her Jess before. She dwelled on that. She didn’t want to think about the other thing, that there could be some malevolent person out there.

His eyes narrowed. “Have you thought of anything?”

She hesitated. She hadn’t told anyone about the book except Sol. She wanted to tell Ross about it. She wanted it with all her being.

But the caution inside was too deep, the habits she’d learned as a girl too strong. Protect yourself. She’d already handed him part of her soul when she’d told him about the rape. She was hesitant to give him any more.

“No,” she said.

His eyes told her that he knew she was lying. That she didn’t trust him. He went over to the side of Carefree, obviously waiting for her to mount.

She felt a sudden loss. She wanted to grab his hand, hold on to it.

Stop him.

But she couldn’t.

She mounted. Wordlessly, he handed her the reins, careful not to let their fingers touch. Then he mounted, and they guided the horses down the steep path as the horizon turned bloodred.