Colorado Heart (9781101612026) (12 page)

“My grandmother used to tell me you could tell how close the storm was by counting the seconds in between the flash and the thunder,” Cassie observed.

A burst of wind scurried around them and spooked Darby. The mare tossed her head and Jake calmed her and encouraged her to pick up the pace a bit.

“How far away is it?” Jake asked.

“Five miles,” Cassie replied.

He was definitely going to get wet. Lightning flashed again and Jake automatically started counting. Before he got to three a loud bray sounded out from the road ahead and Libby charged up to the buggy.

“Is that my donkey?” Cassie asked as Jake pulled Darby to a stop.

“I'm afraid so,” Jake said. Libby trotted to his side of the buggy and let out a panicked filled hee-haw.

Cassie clutched his arm. “Something's happened.” Lightning flashed again, right above their heads, and the thunder rumbled immediately. Cassie's face showed pale in the flash and her eyes were round with fear.

Jake slapped the reins against Darby's back. The mare needed no more inspiration than that and she took off at a gallop. Jake braced his legs and Cassie hung on to the seat as the buggy bounced down the road with Libby braying and running behind them. Just as they turned up the road that led to Cassie's ranch, the sky broke open. They were both drenched within seconds. Jake couldn't see a thing, so he slowed Darby to a walk. Libby trotted beside him still braying her distress.

“Wait,” Cassie practically yelled. The rain was so loud he could barely hear her. “Something's in the road.” She stood up in the buggy. “Stop!”

Jake stopped the buggy and Cassie jumped off before it rolled to a stop. She disappeared into the curtain of rain and shrieked. Jake grabbed a lantern and followed her. They had stopped right before the sign that arched over the roadway. It was built of narrow pines with a split rail fading into the grass on either side. The double
P
had been branded years ago into a signboard that creaked back and forth in the wind.

Manuel was tied between the uprights. His entire body was slumped forward, supported only by the ropes that held his outstretched arms. Cassie knelt beside a lump in the road lying before Manuel that was Rosa. Jake went to Manuel and lifted his head. He'd been beaten, badly, but he was still alive.

“Rosa?” he gasped as Jake pulled out his knife and cut his bonds. Manuel slumped into Jake's arms and then staggered to his wife.

Libby moved behind Jake and nudged him with his nose. Jake patted her. “You did good, girl,” he said, and knelt in the mud beside Cassie and Manuel. He held up the lantern. Rosa had a bruise on the side of her face and blood trickled from a cut. It looked like she'd been kicked or pistol-whipped.

“She's alive,” Cassie said. “Just unconscious. They must have hit her.” She jumped to her feet. “Oh, God. Momma?” Cassie gathered up her skirts and took off up the drive.

“What happened here?” Jake asked Manuel, who was trying to pick up Rosa. He couldn't; he was barely conscious himself and struggling just to stay on his feet. Jake handed Manuel the lantern, picked up Rosa and placed her in the buggy. He had to help Manuel climb onto the back before he jumped in and sent Darby to the house. Manuel leaned over the seat and held on to Rosa as the buggy moved.

“Some men attacked the flock,” Manuel began. “They killed some and the rest scattered. I tried to stop them . . .”

“There were more of them and they had guns,” Jake said. “You're lucky you didn't end up dead.”

“They said I would be next time,” Manuel finished wearily.

“Did you get a good look at them?”

“No,” Manuel confessed. “It was dark, they covered their faces.” His voice broke. “I think they shot Max . . .”

“Damn . . .” Jake said and immediately chastised himself. It seemed as if Cassie was having an effect on him even when she wasn't there. “Did they hurt her mother?”

“I don't think so,” Manuel said. “They left after they beat me. I could be wrong.”

They arrived in front of the house. Light showed through the windows as if everything was fine. At least they hadn't tried to burn them out. Although it would probably be next on the list of whoever did this.

It had to be Watkins. Manuel was determined to carry Rosa himself, but he finally had to let Jake take her. Rosa was stirring, which was a good sign. Manuel led the way into the house with Jake following behind with Rosa in his arms.

“Please God, let her mother be all right,” he said to himself as they walked through the open door.

Cassie knelt on a rug next to a chair that faced the fireplace. The fire had grown low; it was nothing more than embers. She talked quietly to the woman who sat in the chair. The woman didn't move or give any indication that she knew what was going on. He followed a limping Manuel to a room and placed Rosa on the bed. “I'll get some water,” he said, and shook his head at the insanity of it. They were all drenched.

“Momma,” Cassie said as he walked back into the main room of the cabin. “Can you just let me know you're not hurt?” Jake moved behind Cassie, so he could see her mother's face. She looked like a statue, just staring into the fire. She wasn't dead, he could see the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, and still she seemed strange, like an empty shell. What had happened to her? Not tonight, but before? Was this the something horrible Cassie had mentioned? Jake knelt beside Cassie. She held her mother's hands in her own. Cassie's pale blond hair was plastered against her head and water dripped down her face, either from the rain or her tears, he couldn't tell.

“I don't think they came into the house,” he said.

“I never should have come here.” Cassie kept her eyes on her mother's face. “It's just more of the same thing we left behind.”

Jake realized Cassie's mother was looking straight at him. The eyes that before had seemed dead brightened and her right hand trembled as if she wanted to move it.

“Frank,” she said in a voice that was nothing more than a whisper. “You've come home.”

FOURTEEN

C
assie stared at her mother. She'd been begging her to speak for two years and she finally did, as easy as you please, as soon as she laid eyes on Jake Reece. She was looking up at him now, with a sweet smile on her face.

“Who is Frank?” Jake asked.

“My father,” Cassie replied. The smile disappeared off her mother's face and the vacant look came back. Her moment of lucidity was gone.

“Do I look like him?” Jake asked. “Is that why she's confused?”

“No, you don't look anything like him. His hair was the same color as mine and he'd lost most of it by the time he was your age.”

“Sounds like Sam,” Jake said. He held out his hand and Cassie took it as she climbed wearily to her feet.

“Manuel and Rosa?” she asked. “Should we send for a doctor?”

“Angel's End doesn't have a doctor,” Jake said. “Rosa was stirring. I don't know how bad Manuel is. They beat on him but I'm pretty sure he'll survive.”

Cassie went to the kitchen, found a large bowl and sat it in the sink. Jake joined her and pumped water while Cassie searched the hutch for towels and bandages.

“It was Watkins.” The huge bundle of fear that had consumed her turned into anger. “And I know you're going to say there is no way to prove it.”

“Manuel said he didn't see anything.”

“And the rain washed all the tracks away.” The words were bitter in her mouth. It was like she was living the nightmare of the rape all over again. There were no witnesses except for her mother, who could no longer speak after her stroke. All the tracks were washed away in a sudden rainstorm. It was her word against Paul Stacy's. And Paul Stacy could afford to hire the best lawyer around to defend him. The same lawyer that she had planned to study under.

It was another case of life isn't fair and Cassie was tired of being on the receiving end of it. She slammed the hutch door shut and tried the next one. It didn't have what she was looking for. She couldn't even remember what it was she needed. She slammed it shut too, and in frustration she swung her arm across the counter and sent Rosa's basket full of yarn and knitting flying. The knitting needles clattered onto the wood floor and rolled in every direction and her mother didn't even notice the noise. Cassie wanted, no, she needed to hit something. She clenched her hands into fists and swung out at the air as frustrated tears blinded her.

Strong arms grabbed her from behind and she shrieked in fear. It was just like before, when Paul Stacy had grabbed her, after the trial. Only he'd used her long braid to capture her, and pulled her to him like a fish on a line. That was why she cut it off. So it couldn't be used against her.

Cassie fought against the arms, but he was too big and too strong, just like before. And she didn't have her gun. Why oh why didn't she have her gun?

“I got you.” Gentle words murmured against her ear. Somewhere in her brain the words registered differently than they had before. He didn't mean
I got you trapped
. He meant
I got your back. I'm here for you. I will help you
. Still, it took a moment for her body to stop its wild jerking and clawing. A very long moment where Jake held on to her, not too tight, just enough so that she wouldn't hurt herself, until finally the fight went out of her and she collapsed like a rag doll.

How easily he picked her up, as if she didn't weigh a thing. “You're freezing,” he said. She hadn't even noticed it until he said it. Her body shook violently and she realized they were both still wearing their soaking wet clothes. Jake had to be colder than she was as she still had on his coat. He looked around for a moment and must have realized where her room was, as he started in that direction with Cassie in his arms.

“Why are you here?” Cassie asked. She felt weak and boneless. She didn't want to move. Yet she had to. Manuel and Rosa were hurt. The sheep were scattered. She'd promised to keep them on her land. God only knew where they were, or if there were any left.

“Did you think I'd just leave?”

“Some people would.”

“You've been hanging around with the wrong type of people.” Jake lowered her so her feet touched the floor but he kept a hold on her. “Can you stand?”

Cassie nodded.

“I'm going to get Darby out of the weather and check on the rest of your stock while you put on some dry clothes.”

Cassie sniffed.

“May I have my coat back?”

She didn't answer, but instead just shrugged out of his coat. She stuck her arm out to hand it to him without looking him in the face.

“Cassie,” he said. “Look at me.” Her head seemed to turn of its own volition. Jake's short-cropped hair glistened with moisture and his white shirt was plastered to his shoulders and chest, showing the well-defined muscles beneath it. The skin of his neck was covered with goose bumps, yet he didn't shiver, he just stood there, calmly talking to her. “I'm just going down to the barn. I'll be back. Can you find me a dry shirt to put on when I get back?”

Once more she nodded, because speech was just too hard at the moment. Jake stood there for a few seconds, seconds when she really wasn't sure what he was going to do, then he ran a hand through his dripping hair and left.

She had to do something. Manuel and Rosa needed her. Her mother needed her. It was too much to expect from her. Why did she have to take care of everyone and everything? It was just too hard. She just wanted to take off her wet clothes and climb into her bed and pull the blankets up over her head and sleep.

Cassie took a deep breath. There was work to be done. First she needed to change clothes and then she'd take the rest as it came. It was the same thing she'd been doing for the past two years. Why should anything be any different now?

The rain still pounded on the roof. Whoever had done this, and Cassie knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was Watkins's men, was long gone. It would be impossible to see how much damage was done until daylight. How many sheep were dead, and how many were scattered to the hills?

Cassie changed into her everyday clothes and hung her wet things on the pegs. She ran her fingers through her hair and picked up a towel, dropped in her earlier haste, to dry it.

“Max!” Cassie just realized she hadn't seen Manuel's dog since they discovered Manuel and Rosa on the road. If those bastards had killed Max . . . Her gun was still in the pocket of her jacket, which hung by the door. Never again would she be without it. Not that it would have changed anything tonight, but if they'd come home earlier and caught them in the act . . .

Was she ready to take that step? Was she ready to kill someone? To actually pull the trigger and end someone's life? Cassie finished drying her hair and looked in the mirror as she tossed the towel aside. Her skin was a ghostly white and her eyes huge in her face. The tip of her upturned nose was red with cold. Could she actually shoot someone after all the time she'd spent shooting at targets? She had always hoped she'd never have to find out, but now, to protect those she loved, she might just have to.

Cassie checked on her mother again before she went to the kitchen to once more search for what she needed to tend Manuel and Rosa. Her mother was the same as always, it was as if she hadn't spoken at all, and this time she found what she needed on her first pass through the hutch. The scattered things on the floor would have to wait.

The scene she walked in on was intimate. Manuel sat on the side of the bed. Rosa, thank God, was awake and had her hands on Manuel's bruised and bleeding face. Tears streamed from Rosa's eyes, tears of gratitude, Cassie was certain, because both of them were still alive.

“What happened, Manuel?” Cassie asked. She sat the bowl of water and towels on the bedside table. Manuel gingerly moved aside so Cassie could see the spreading bruise on the side of Rosa's face. Cassie knew Manuel's injuries were probably more serious, but also knew that he would not let her help him until he was certain Rosa was fine. Cassie wiped the blood from Rosa's face as Manuel began.

“We were just finishing up dinner when the donkey started braying,” Manuel said. “I thought it might be a coyote, so I turned Max out. Then we heard gunshots. I took my rifle and went out. Three men were shooting the sheep. I shot at them but one of them roped me and dragged me to the place where you found me. The others tied me up and beat me until I passed out.”

“I tried to stop them,” Rosa added. “One of them kicked me here.” She pointed to the side of her face where the skin was broken. “That is all I know until I woke up here.”

“I think they shot Max,” Manuel said. He covered his face with his hand. Max was the last link they had to their only child, a son, who'd died four years ago in the south of Mexico while trying to help the beleaguered plantation workers. “I heard him cry out, and have not seen him since.”

Cassie didn't know what to say to comfort him. If Max was able, he'd be beside Manuel. He would have died to protect him; he might be dead already. “We'll find him,” she said, but she didn't hold out much hope.

“I am fine,” Rosa said. “Manuel is the one who is hurt the worst.”

“I think I agree with you,” Cassie said as Manuel protested his injuries. They slipped into Spanish, gently chiding each other over the risks they each had taken this night. Cassie, satisfied that Manuel's injuries weren't life threatening, although he would be laid up for a few days, left him to Rosa's tender care.

Her mother still sat in her chair. Cassie put her to bed, which consumed the next half hour, and then she picked up the mess she'd made earlier. The rain still pounded against the roof, although the earlier thunder and lightning had moved on. Jake had been gone a long while. A good long while. Cassie looked at the small windup clock that sat on the mantel. Maybe an hour?

He must have left. Why shouldn't he? Why would he want to get caught up in her problems? He'd made it plain he didn't want her here, and he certainly didn't want her sheep here, as he'd said many times since the day they'd met.

You're not being fair . . .
Jake said he was going to put Darby in the barn and check on her stock. That wouldn't take an hour. Not unless something else had happened.

Sitting around worrying about it wouldn't change it, if it had. Cassie put on her coat and hat, picked up her rifle and went outside. The air had changed. Where before there'd been a chill in the air, now it was balmy and heavy with the rain that still poured from the skies. Cassie squinted against the thick curtain of water and made out the darker shadows of the barn and outbuildings that lay below the cabin, but no light shone from any of them.

He's gone . . .
Why did she believe him when he said he would stay? Why should he stay? Cassie grabbed the lantern that hung by the door and went down to the barn. Water chased her down the slope as she went; the ground was saturated and couldn't hold any more. The water kept on rolling, past the barn and on down the path and into the stream that bisected her land. Would it flood?

Cassie slipped into the barn. Suzie the cat ran to meet her with a questioning meow. The buggy sat in the aisle and Darby was in the stall next to Puck. Both turned their heads in her direction. Libby was in a stall also and wheezed a greeting.

“Jake?” Cassie called out. The only answer was the rain pounding on the roof. She walked through the barn and out the door on the opposite side. Cassie leaned the rifle against the door and lifted the lantern. The fence that they'd worked on so hard was trampled and the white patches scattered across the pasture were dead sheep. At least twenty, and probably many more that she couldn't see. So much waste. And where were the rest of them? Scattered who knows where, after all her promises to keep them home. Watkins had to be behind this. He'd sent his men to attack Manuel while he was at the meeting being cooperative.

Cassie called out again. “Jake?” In the distance she saw a light bobbing up and down. It had to be Jake; if Watkins wanted to do any more damage, he had plenty of opportunity and he definitely wouldn't be walking around her pasture with a lantern. Still, she kept her hand on her pistol until she was sure.

“Cassie!” he called back. “Is something wrong?” He trotted into the circle of light cast by her lantern. Water streamed from his head and his clothes. He couldn't have been any more wet if he'd fallen into a tub full of water
. He's still here . . .
His gun belt was strapped around his waist. He was prepared for trouble, but there was none to be found. Not now. Only a fool would be out in this weather. Or someone who thought he could help a fool.

“No, I was just worried,” she admitted. “You were gone so long.”

“I was looking for Max,” Jake said. He wiped his hand across his face. Raindrops still hung on his lashes and his eyes were as stormy as the night.