“It wasn’t a stupid dress, and it sure as hell more than tempted me.” He chuckled, and creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Where did you get it?”

Cait stared at his laugh lines, suddenly faced with the tangible evidence that they were no longer fifteen and seventeen. They’d both grown up, but scars remained.

“It was in my mother’s trunk. Pa never could throw any of her things away.” Cait remembered the one and only time he’d tried to sort through her mother’s belongings. After opening the trunk, he’d quickly closed it and hurried outside. Cait had followed him and stood in the doorway, shocked to hear her big, strong father sobbing in the deepest shadows of the porch.

“Do you still have it?”

Win’s question startled Cait out of the past. “Yes, but that was the only time I wore it.”

“I figured you’d wear it to the town dances and all the boys would line up to dance with you.”

Cait peered into Win’s face, trying to determine if he was teasing or serious. “I never went to any dances.”

“Why?” Win asked, genuinely puzzled.

She shrugged. “I didn’t plan on marrying, so it didn’t make any sense to go.”

“Why?” he repeated.

Becoming annoyed, Cait snapped, “Because.”

Win held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa. Don’t be getting all riled up again. I didn’t mean anything. I’m just trying to figure out why someone as beautiful as you isn’t married yet.”

Beautiful. Cait would’ve given the moon to hear him call her beautiful years ago, but now it brought a strange lump to her throat. She forced a nonchalant shrug. “The ranch kept me so busy I never had time to think about it.” She glanced at the angle of the sun. “I’d best make us something to eat. It’s long past noon.”

She felt Win’s burning gaze on her back as she walked to the cabin, but there was nothing more she owed him. She picked up the box containing flour, sugar, and coffee she’d left on the porch and carried it inside.

As she put away the goods, she allowed her memories free rein. She remembered how she’d had to lie to her father for the first time in her life to hide her humiliation. How she’d cried every night for nearly a year before the pain became tolerable. How the love she’d had for Win had burned away, leaving ashes of hate.

But their kiss in the barn showed that beneath the hate, love’s embers still smoldered.

Cait couldn’t afford to fan those embers back to life. Even if Win still held some affection for her, he would undoubtedly ride away again. And this time, even the embers would become extinguished, leaving nothing but the empty shell of a bitter woman with no hope of a family.

Chapter Five

FOUR NIGHTS LATER, Cait bolted upright in bed. She sat there in the darkness, disoriented, trying to determine what had awakened her. A horse’s scream split the night’s silence and Cait scrambled out from under the muslin sheet and wool blanket. She jerked on her boots and trousers, but didn’t take the time to don a shirt over her gown.

She grabbed the rifle propped beside the bed and dashed out of the cabin. Pausing on the porch, she searched for Deil in his pen and found him looking toward the trees. The shrill cry sounded again. It came from the mares’ corral, the direction Deil faced.

Cait bounded across the moonlit yard, almost colliding with Win when he hopped out of the barn, tugging on a boot.

“What is it?” he demanded.

Cait slowed her pace slightly to answer. “Something’s spooked the mares.” She turned and ran, her heart thrumming wildly.

Cait was barely aware of Win following her, his long legs devouring the distance between them. She angled through the trees, not wasting time by going through the wide opening she normally used. Branches slapped her face and arms.

She stumbled to a halt at the edge of the clearing. Before her lay a network of three corrals that Win and his father had helped build. The first pen housed three mares and their foals. The biggest corral held the rest of the wild horses, and the smallest enclosure was where Cait worked with one mustang at a time. The herd milled about nervously, nickering and kicking at one another. Something had obviously frightened them.

“Do you have trouble with cats around here?” Win’s close voice startled her.

“Not lately,” she replied. “A few years ago two came down from the mountains, but that had been a bad winter. The Duncans and Crowleys lost a few head of livestock, but the mountain lions never came this far south.”

Win grunted and she glanced at him. He was surveying the area, his eyes narrowed and body tense. She noticed he wore his gunbelt around his trim hips, obviously expecting trouble, too.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared, as if sniffing the air, searching for something that didn’t belong. Instead of answering her, he prowled around the corral, his gaze aimed at the ground.

Cait remained in place, narrowing her eyes as she watched him through the silvery glow of the nearly full moon. He circled the outer perimeter of the pen, his fluid motions and cautious steps giving her an even more powerful impression of a stalking wolf.

He hunkered down, examining something on the ground. “Come here,” he called to Cait.

She hurried over to his side and leaned over him. “What is it?”

Win pointed to a barely discernible indentation in the loose dirt. “It was a mountain lion. Only one, but enough to get the horses riled up,” he announced grimly.

An icy chill swept through Cait and she glanced around nervously, her mind conjuring wild cats out of fuzzy shadows. “But they never come this close to humans unless they’re starving. After the mild winter, they shouldn’t have any trouble finding food.”

Win shrugged. “Maybe it’s a rogue. I’ve heard tell of mountain lions coming into ranch yards and taking a dog or foal.”

Cait’s grip on the rifle tightened. She couldn’t afford to lose a single horse.

“He’s long gone,” Win said quietly. “At least he’s still afraid of people.”

“What about the horses?”

“They warned you this time. They’ll do it again.”

“But what-”

Her question was interrupted by a mare’s distressed whinny. With her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, Cait spotted the horse immediately and recognized the mare as one whose milk had dropped into her teats only two days earlier. Usually that meant a foal would be born about six days later, but it appeared this mare was going into labor early.

“She’s ready to foal,” she said tersely.

Win nodded. “The scare probably triggered it.”

Cait’s gaze remained on the restless mare that pawed at the ground in between pacing a small area of the corral. “I need to get her moved into the smaller pen so the others don’t bother her. I’ll get my horse.”

“I’ll help,” Win offered.

“You can do that by keeping an eye on her, then opening the gates for me.”

For a moment, Cait thought he’d argue, but Win nodded shortly.

She ran back to the barn and caught Pepper, her pinto mare. Pepper snapped at her, obviously not liking to be bothered in the middle of the night. Cait slapped the mare’s nose lightly. “Behave yourself.”

Pepper curled back her lips, but didn’t try any more tricks.

It took only a few minutes to ready her, and Cait vaulted into the saddle. As she rode out of the yard, Deil neighed piercingly and reared up on his hind legs, probably upset that he was being left behind.

Two minutes later, Cait drew Pepper to a halt by the wild horses’ corral.

Win stood by the gate, his hand on the latch. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Win pressed back the bolt and opened the gate just far enough that Cait and Pepper could ride through. He secured the gate behind them.

Cait picked out the foaling mare and used her knees to guide Pepper closer to her. The expectant mare snorted and pranced nervously. “Easy, girl,” Cait crooned.

The wild horses separated into two groups as Cait drew near, allowing her a path to ride through. The mare tried to follow one of the clusters, but a shift of Pepper’s reins and the welltrained pinto cut the mare off from the others. Cait gave Pepper her head and leaned into the sharp turns as the pinto herded the sweating mare toward the gate leading into the smaller pen. Just as Cait was about to yell at Win to open up, the gate swung outward and the foaling mare ran through it. Cait and Pepper followed, then Win latched the gate.

In a corner of the smallest pen, the mare trembled visibly and her flanks were sweatsoaked. Concerned, Cait dismounted, intent on examining her.

“She’s all right,” Win called out in a low voice. “Leave her be.”

“I want to see if she’ll let me near her in case she has problems,” Cait said impatiently.

“You’ll only upset her more. Get out of there.”

Cait wavered between her instincts and Win’s order, a rebellious part of her eager to disobey Win, even if he was right. Finally, Cait relented and led Pepper out of the enclosure. With Pepper’s reins wrapped around her hand, Cait stopped beside Win.

“We should go back to the house,” Win said, his gaze moving from her face down to her breasts and quickly back up. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Most horses don’t like an audience when they foal. Wild ones are even more that way.”

“What if she has trouble? What if the foal is turned? What if she’s too tired to push?”

Impatience flickered in his face. “She’s more likely to have trouble if she’s nervous, and with us around she’s going to be twitchier than a spinster on her wedding night.” Again, his attention fell to her chest.

Cait pressed her lips together, irritated that his eyes kept dropping below her neck. She finally glanced down, and saw that her thin gown was pressed against her bosom and the cool air had made her nipples harden. It was obvious she wore nothing beneath the gauzy material. Fighting her instinct to cross her arms over her breasts, she tried not to wonder what Win might be thinking. But the more she tried, the more she couldn’t help but imagine what was racing through his mind. Probably the same thing she was thinking when she stared at his bare chest the other day.