Win took a deep breath, knowing he would only stir up the past more than he had already if he told her he’d missed her. “I wish you’d wired me about Tremayne. I would’ve liked to pay my respects.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“It only would’ve made things harder.” She stared past him again. “I didn’t need you.”
Win studied her proud carriage and sighed. “No, you never did, did you?” he said too softly for her to hear. Fighting both annoyance and guilty acknowledgment, he fished around for a lesspainful subject. “When did you build the barn and second busting pen?”
Her defensiveness eased, but her taut shoulders revealed continuing wariness. “Six years ago for the barn. The corral was put up last month, right before we rounded up the wild horses.” She motioned to the barn and the network of corrals beyond the copse of trees. “This was Pa’s dream.”
Win nodded. “I remember. It was all he talked about- building a horse ranch where folks would come to buy the best horses.” He studied the pale oval of her face through the growing dusk. “It was your dream, too.”
Cait gazed into the fading brilliance of the sunset. Her skin reflected the orange tint of the western horizon. “It still is.” She motioned toward the stallion again. “On his deathbed, Pa asked me to bring you here to tame Deil.”
She faced him, then, and met his gaze. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have sent you that telegram.” She paused, and confessed hoarsely, “I never wanted to see you again.”
After all the years of believing what he’d done was the right thing, her confession shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Yet he’d brought it on himself. He’d wronged her and her father, and had tried to make it right by disappearing from their lives. But he owed them, and Tremayne’s last wish would be his penance. He’d tame the stallion so Cait could attain the dream for both her and her father.
“I understand,” Win finally said. “I’ll leave as soon as the stallion’s ready.”
All emotion seeped from Cait’s features. “I’ll pay you a dollar a day plus room and board.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Yes, I do. This is strictly business.” Steel glinted in her eyes.
“I ain’t likely to forget,” Win said dryly.
“See that you don’t. You can sleep in the barn. Breakfast is at six.”
“Fine.”
Cait grabbed her rifle, spun around, and marched back into the cabin. She paused in the doorway and called over her shoulder, “I’m a light sleeper and I keep the rifle next to the bed.” With that notsosubtle warning, Cait entered the cabin.
A light flickered and swelled from within, dappling pale light onto the porch. Win remained rooted in place, watching her shadowy figure against the thin curtains until a cool breeze smelling of rain blew across his face.
Win unwrapped his gelding’s reins and led his horse toward the barn. He paused by the corral where Deil stood motionless, neck arched imperiously as he stared down at Win.
“So, Deil, are you really the devil?” he asked, meeting the stallion’s haughty gaze.
The devil reared up on its hind legs and trumpeted a shrill whinny.
Win instinctively stepped back, even though Deil had no chance of touching him. The first raindrops began to patter against the hard ground, giving Win an excuse to retreat.
Deil would definitely be a challenge, but taming the stallion would be a cakewalk compared to trying to tame his mistress.
AFTERlighting the kerosene lamp, Cait lowered herself to the rocking chair, which had been her father’s favorite place in the evenings. Ever since his death, she’d felt comforted by the rhythmic motion of the chair. Sometimes she closed her eyes and remembered how she used to clamber into his lap when she was small and demand he tell her a story.
Sitting there now, Cait could almost hear the faint Scottish burr in his low, rumbly voice. A tear rolled down her cheek, surprising her. She didn’t think she had any left, but informing Win of her pa’s death brought back the razorsharp sorrow.
Ever since she’d walked into the telegraph office nine days ago to carry out her father’s last wish, she’d been preparing herself to see Win again. She thought she was ready; after all, ten years was nearly half a lifetime ago. However, the brittle reality of seeing him in the flesh released a flood of memories-some sad, some happy, but mostly painful.
For nearly ten years, she’d immersed herself in her and her father’s dream. Now twentyfive, Cait was a spinster, but she’d made that choice herself. Her father hadn’t understood, but he hadn’t pressed either. She was glad he hadn’t. How could she have told him how stupid and naïve she’d been? Not one to shirk responsibility even back then, Cait knew she was as much to blame for what happened that night as Win. But when Win had ridden away the next morning without even saying goodbye, Cait’s love for her longtime friend gradually turned to hatred.
Unable to remain sitting, Cait stood and paced the length of the tworoom cabin. She paused by a window and eased the curtain back to gaze at Deil. Her free hand clenched into a fist as the knot in her stomach tightened. If it were up to her, the stallion would’ve been put down on the day he murdered her pa.
Instead, Cait had been forced by her dying father to send for the man she despised to tame the horse she hated.
If it weren’t so tragic, Cait would’ve found the irony laughable.
Chapter Two
WIN CUPPED HIS hands and splashed nightcooled water from the tin pan across his face. He gasped, but repeated the action again and again, hoping to rid his mind of the cobwebs from a restless night. Using the bar of soap sitting on the porch bench beside the pan, Win washed and shaved.
He drew the straight razor across his whiskered cheek and jaw, then gave a wry chuckle at his reflection in the small square mirror. Of all that he’d inherited from his mother’s half Indian blood-high cheekbones, straight dark hair, and perpetually tanned complexion-he hadn’t inherited the lack of facial hair, which would’ve come in handy. Finishing the routine task, he rinsed with more cool water and plucked a rough towel off a wooden peg and wiped dry, then fingercombed his thick damp hair back from his forehead.
The front door opened and Cait stepped out into the dawn’s rosy glow.
“Mornin’,” he said.
“Morning,” she echoed, not meeting his gaze.
Win wasn’t surprised to see her in trousers again. The only time she’d worn a dress was that evening ten years ago. He could see the gown clearly in his mind-pale blue with white lace bordering the low neckline, accenting the soft swell of her breasts. She hadn’t resembled the girl he’d known for so many years, but had been transformed into a desirable woman who’d sparked his hot young blood. He’d never forgotten that dress or that night.
“Was the barn comfortable?” she asked.
Win blinked in surprise at her attempt at a civil conversation. “I’ve slept in worse.”
“At least it doesn’t leak.”
“Good thing, since it rained buckets last night.”
She nodded, a slight smile quirking her lips. “Breakfast is ready.”
He followed her into the cabin, enjoying the gentle sway of her backside and the long blond braid that fell to her waist. He recalled the smell of honeysuckle, and how her silky hair had slid across his chest and caressed his fingers.
He hung his hat on the rack by the door just as he’d done so often as a boy. A wave of nostalgia startled him. He’d been drifting for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to think of some place as home.
He waited until Cait sat down before taking his chair, and hid a smile at her faint blush when she realized what he’d done.
“You don’t have to act so polite, Win. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she said irritably.
He smiled, using the charm that had never failed him with the ladies. “But we aren’t kids anymore.”
She raised her deceptively dainty chin. “That’s right. I grew up fast, thanks to you.”
Win flinched at the bitterness in her tone. “Seems to me you weren’t complaining too much at the time.” In fact, they’d spent much of the night together and their youthful passions had kept them awake for most of it.
Cait’s cheeks reddened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she picked up her fork and began to eat.
Win swallowed back a smile and dug into a hefty pile of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and biscuits and gravy. Cait rose halfway through the quiet meal to fill their cups with fresh coffee.
“Do you have any hired help, besides me?” Win asked after pushing aside his empty plate.
Cait shook her head as she idly traced the rim of her cup with a fingertip. “I haven’t had time to look for a hired hand since Pa died.” Abruptly, she stood and carried their plates to the tin wash pan.
“You’d best start looking. You can’t do everything that needs doing yourself.”
“I manage just fine.” If she were a cat, she would’ve arched her back and hissed.
Win leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave.”
She gripped the back of her chair and stared down at him. Her eyes blazed with stubborn pride. “This was our dream, me and Pa’s, and I’m not going to let it go now that it’s so close.”
There was nothing of the laughing, innocent girl Win had known in the plucky woman before him. “I’m not asking you to, just that you hire someone to give you a hand.”
“No. As long as you can tame Deil, I can take care of the mares and the foals they’ll soon drop.”
Win dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “Damn it, Cait, don’t be so stubborn. I couldn’t handle that many horses myself and I’m not afraid to admit it.”
“Well, it’s a good thing I can, then, isn’t it?” She marched to the door. “Daylight’s wasting and I’ve got work to do.” Cait donned her widebrimmed hat and snugged the horsehair string beneath her chin. She strode out, leaving Win alone in the cabin.
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