you’re still weak. After fifteen years of near vegetation, you’re expecting too much of yourself. You’re still going to physical therapy. You can’t operate at one hundred percent.”
She gaped at him. “You don’t think I can handle taking care of the horses?”
“You’ve got three of your own, plus these six—”
Fisting her hands by her side, she jumped up. “Wait a min—”
“Now let me finish.” He held up a hand. “All of these horses have special needs. I think that’s a load too heavy for anybody, let alone for someone in your position.”
Her mind reeled at the possibility of losing the horses due to her own weakness. “So what, you expect me to just let them go and say, hey, sorry I can’t take care of you, so goodbye and good luck? I’ve been taking care of them for nearly a week. I’m handling the work just fine.”
He cocked his head, a dead-serious look on his face. “You asked me to shoot straight.”
“And you did,” she acknowledged, bracing herself for the next attack.
“You spend half your life in the sunshine and you look as pale as the moon. You don’t just look tired, you look downright exhausted. You’ve lost weight when you should be gaining. If you don’t start taking care of yourself, none of these horses will be able to count on you.”
With that, he’d hit her rawest nerve. She stumbled back a step, losing all her fury. He was right. If she did run herself ragged, the horses would have no one to give them voice.
“There’s also the question of space,” Chance said. “You’ve got eight stalls and nine horses.”
“That’s okay, I’ve got two that won’t come inside. I’ve got enough pasture for them all. I’ve got two corrals, a ring and I’m working on a round pen—”
“You’re not digging holes and lugging lumber on your own, are you?”
She jutted her chin, straightened her stance. “I’m doing what I have to do.”
“Ellen…”
He reached for her shoulders. She shrugged off his hold.
“So, how do I resolve this? I’m not going to let the horses go. Not while they still need care.”
Chance blew out a long breath and squeezed the nape of his neck. “Tell you what, you hire yourself a hand and I’ll talk Judge Dalton into taking a look-see at your operation.”
The pinprick of escalating panic stampeded through her. Shaking her head, she said, “Chance, you know how I feel about the ranch.”
“It’s non-negotiable. You want my help, you’ve got to give me something to work with.” He offered her his hand. “Deal?”
This wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t have anybody looking, watching…reporting. She couldn’t do it. Not after having no choice in the matter for fifteen years.
But if you don’t, she reminded herself, you’ll lose the horses and they need you.
“This way, you’ll at least get the chance to convince the judge you can handle the load.”
For fifteen years she was forced into silence, drugged against her will, kept a prisoner in her own body by a man who cared nothing about her. She’d had no voice, no one to fight for her. Stuck in the prison of her mind all she’d had for company was the nightmarish image of Kent and Kyle drowning in the river, of her dreams dying with them. Only in the collection of crystal horses catching rainbows of light on the dresser had she found a ray of hope. Horses had kept her fighting for her life.
She had to keep fighting for the horses. They were voiceless. They needed her. Not Bancroft. Not Chance. Not the judge. No one would stop her from seeing them healthy again. She couldn’t let them down.
She took Chance’s hand and reluctantly shook it hard once. “Deal.”
The phone rang. She spun on her heels and strode to the door. Rubbing the wrist that held her watch she cursed Garth Ramsey for marrying her when she couldn’t object, for stealing nearly half her life. She cursed Brad Bancroft for his careless disregard for his animals’ needs. She cursed her body for betraying her when she needed it most.
But all the cursing in the world wasn’t going to change the facts. It hadn’t saved Kyle. It hadn’t brought him back to life. And over the past year if she’d learned anything, it was to face the facts before her no matter how unpleasant they were.
“Well, shoot,” she muttered as she plowed through the sheriff’s office door.
For the horses she was going to have to hire help. And having someone trespass on her sanctuary was going to feel like being under glass all over again.
Chapter Two
The hum hit him first, deep in his gut. Recognition slapped him next. Shock rooted him.
“Ellen,” Kevin whispered.
Of all the things he’d expected to find in Gabenburg, she had never even entered his mind. If he hadn’t been holding on to the doorknob to the sheriff’s office, the blow of seeing her standing there might have knocked him over.
What was she doing so far from home? Her roots were planted so deeply in Ashbrook that she hadn’t understood his need to catch a ride on the wind before settling. What had caused her to leave the land where she’d seeded her dreams?
He swallowed hard and stared at her narrow back. The hum in his gut whirred until it burned, then spread until he was wound so tight his fingers dented the wood on the doorjamb.
She still wore her hair in a loose French braid that tickled the bottom of her shoulder blades. Light still played with the gold, making it shimmer with her every move. Errant strands still framed her face with corkscrews of curls. His index finger twitched with an ache to wrap itself around one of those golden curls.
When she turned, her gray-green eyes reflected every emotion coursing through her. A sharp gnaw of hunger champed through him as he remembered the sizzle of energy her emotion-filled body could transmit.
Even after all those years, she still had the power to knock him off balance just by being there.
He’d prepared himself to handle his brother. He’d prepared himself to take whatever punishment was his due. But seeing Ellen scrambled his mind, undid his purpose.
He needed to think. But he couldn’t drag his gaze from the woman he’d once wanted with such a fierce passion he hadn’t been able to see straight.
A flood of regret, of need, of pain surged through him in a tidal wave. Anger and desire roiled like the Red Thunder’s water, churning forgotten silt to the surface. The part of his memory he hadn’t dared to look at in years whirled through his mind like a ruthless hurricane. Then longing settled over him and sank, drowning him in a pool of sorrow so deep he could barely breathe.
He remembered her laughter, brook bubbly and wind-chime light. He remembered her tears, salty and warm. He remembered
