Red Thunder Reckoning. Sylvie Kurtz
straightened and hooked his thumbs into his jeans pockets. “Who owns the land behind your pasture?”
“Mike Stockman. He runs a few head of cattle. It’s mostly a hobby, though. He runs some sort of computer-support company.”
“Do you know him? What about your other neighbors? Have you had any problems with them?”
She’d barely said hello to any of her neighbors. They minded their business and she minded hers. Eyebrows knit, she shook her head. “I don’t see why any of them would want to scare the horses. They’re all small-time ranchers, just like me. They all love their animals.”
“No water-rights feud or access disputes?”
“No.”
“How long have you lived here?”
“I bought the ranch nine months ago.” She’d bought it with the out-of-court settlement from her suit against Garth and the nursing home. She could have gotten more if the case had gone to trial, but she didn’t have the energy and she’d wasted too much time to scatter another couple of years in court. Getting on with her life had seemed more important. “I moved in six months ago and Luci arrived a week later.”
“Ever have any problems before?” Kevin piled the three bags into the wheelbarrow.
“None.”
He jerked his chin toward Luci and C.C. grazing the grass in the middle of the field, swishing their tails in slow arcs against the bugs. “What’s the story with your horses?”
“Luci, Pudge and Chocolate Chip, also known as C.C., are mine.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d heard about Luci from a jockey at one of her weekly physical therapy sessions. “Luci came by way of a friend. The humane society contacted me about C.C. and my vet sent me Pudge. No one else wanted them.”
“What about the Thoroughbreds?”
She looked at Apollo, standing on three legs, resting. If she closed her eyes, she could still see the panicked look in his eyes, the blood mixed with the rain, hear his trumpet of fear. “There was a wreck last week. Where my road meets the highway. It was horrible. I’m taking care of them until they can travel again.”
“How badly does the owner want his horses back?”
Her heart thumped hard once. That was the question of the day. “They’re all hurt. I can’t see what use they are to him. Some might race again, but most probably won’t.”
“Breeding?”
She snorted. “Four geldings won’t get him too far.”
“Then why doesn’t he wait until they can travel again?”
The helpless feeling wrapping around her was suddenly turning her ranch into just another cage. “I don’t know.”
Kevin picked up the wheelbarrow handle. “I think you should call the sheriff.”
She looked at him long and hard, then nodded and headed for the house. She didn’t know what to make of Kevin Ransom yet, but at least he had his priorities right.
The horses came first.
WHILE SHE WAITED for water to boil to make spaghetti for the sauce she started earlier, Ellen fought the urge to run a brush through her hair and change her shirt.
“Because I’ve been out all day and I’m hot and sweaty,” she told her reflection on the microwave’s black door. “Certainly not for a ranch hand.”
Her image called her a liar. She stuck her tongue out at it, then plunged dry noodles into the boiling water. What did she care what he thought? He was a temporary necessity. That was all. Having a hand around might just make the difference in convincing the judge she could handle the workload these special horses required. Nothing more.
Chance had promised to come out in the morning to look at the tracks and the evidence Kevin had collected from the pasture. Until then, worrying would do her no good.
As she drained the noodles, the hot water steamed the window over the sink, erasing her view of the barn. She sensed Kevin’s return to the kitchen before she saw him. Having him here, even if he was simply washing up and sharing a meal, was changing the balance she’d set up for herself. Her awareness of him with its heavy imprint had the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention. Who was he? What was he doing here? Why would someone with such talent with horses have to work for his meals?
“Anything I can do to help?” he asked.
His gaze stroked the length of her disheveled braid, making her self-conscious of her untidy appearance. She nearly dropped the pot she was holding. “No. Sit. Everything’ll be ready in a minute.”
Blue, who was lying next to the boot bench by the door, sprang to his feet. When his wagging tail knocked one of her riding boots over, he jumped sideways and glanced at her with a crestfallen look.
“It’s all right,” she told the dog as she took a plate from one of the glass-fronted cabinets. “I don’t bite.”
Blue looked up at Kevin as if to ask his opinion.
“It’s going to take more than a boot to work up her temper.” He smiled and petted the dog’s head. Blue relaxed. The tension in her gut twisted up another notch.
“He doesn’t seem to be aware of how ferocious he looks,” she said.
“He’s absolutely clueless.” Chuckling, Kevin pulled out a chair. The rush seat creaked as he sat.
“How long have you had him?” She piled spaghetti onto the plate, ladled on sauce, took one look at Kevin’s lean body and added extra meatballs.
“A couple of months. We’re still getting used to each other.”
Used to each other? Hadn’t he noticed the dog’s total adoration?
To her horror, she seemed to turn all thumbs while serving him. Her hand cramped. The plate started wobbling. The whole serving of noodles listed to one side. She slanted the plate up, but not before a meatball rolled off. It plopped against his T-shirt and rolled onto his lap.
“I’m sorry.” Face on fire, she started toward him, then thought better of it. Was she ever going to have full control over her body again? What had possessed her to invite a stranger into her home? This was her sanctuary, her haven—the one place in the world where she could be herself without anyone judging her. Silently cursing, she plucked napkins from the holder and handed them to him. “I’m really sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He took the whole thing in stride, as if things like this happened to him every day. His mouth quirked up on one side.
Something about the gesture ruffled her inside. Another time, another face came to mind. She shook her head and turned to fill a plate for herself. Kyle is dead. Stop thinking about him. How was she going to get this man out of her kitchen without being rude?
“It’s not funny,” she said. “If you give me your shirt, I’ll add it to the laundry tomorrow. Not now, I mean, after dinner. I mean, when you change.” Her jerky movements flung strands of spaghetti across the counter.
“I make you nervous.” Kevin tossed the offending meatball resting in his lap to Blue who gobbled it in one bite.
As Kevin dabbed at the tomato sauce staining his T-shirt, his gaze followed her every move. The insistent tracking enhanced the stiffening of her muscles. She seemed to grow ten thumbs and her feet seemed to work backward. Was he studying her? Looking for weakness? She might be down, but she wasn’t out. “Did Bancroft send you?”
“I don’t know anyone named Bancroft.”
“He owns the Thoroughbreds.”
Kevin got up and filled a glass of water at the sink. His shoulder zinged against hers, more breeze than touch, making her stiffen even more.
“I’ve