The Taming Of Jackson Cade. Bj James
Чтение книги онлайн.
Читать онлайн книгу The Taming Of Jackson Cade - Bj James страница 2
Jessee nodded even though he knew the younger man wouldn’t see. “I reckon we both wish we could change a lot of things. But fact is we can’t. And there’s no going back. Only forward.”
Jackson laughed, a bitter, defeated sound. “How do I do that? Accomplishing what?”
“You do it by taking yourself into the house to make the phone call you’ve refused to consider.” Jesse’s fingers tightened on Jackson’s shoulder. In compassion, in respect, in regret for a man too proud for his own good. “I can’t say what it will accomplish, but it’s a chance. And if it saves the poor, mad critter back there in that stall, or even if it only eases his suffering, what’s the eating of a little crow in comparison?”
“You don’t mince words, do you, old man?”
“Never have,” Jesse drawled. “And just like you said, I’m too old to start.”
Jackson nodded but didn’t look away from the land.
This was more than River Trace. It was his dream. His life’s work. The investment of all he had, his heart, his blood, his sweat and tears. After years of struggle, success beyond his wildest dreams was only a colt or two away. Colts that might not ever be. Unless a phone call could make the difference.
“Unless,” he muttered, stepping into the moonlight.
“What does that mean?” the older man questioned, his arm falling to his side.
“Exactly that, Jesse. Unless.” Jackson walked, grimly, determinedly in a stilted pace toward the house. A tattered, historic treasure neglected in favor of barns and horses, but his.
“Where in thunder are you going, Jackson Cade?”
Without slowing his pace, Jackson called back over his shoulder, his voice grimly resigned, as stilted as his step. “To make a phone call. Eat some crow. Say a prayer.”
“Care if I join you in the prayer part?”
“You do that.” At the steps leading to the back door, Jackson swung about. Over the little distance, young eyes met old and held. “Thanks for coming tonight, Jesse. I know you tried.”
“We both did, Jackson. What we could do just wasn’t enough.”
Jackson drew a long, harsh breath, nodded again, then turned away from the night to climb steps of stone.
The darkness of the house enveloped him, blocking him from sight, but the old cowhand still stood in the barn door. “Our bad luck was that your brother isn’t here. The good is that there is someone else.
“Call,” Jesse urged softly in a whisper no ear but his would hear. “Take a chance. What you find just might be worth all the crow in the world.”
One
The screams. She could still hear the screams.
Gripping the steering wheel, forgetting the incongruity of her stylishly perfect black dress and that her silver-blond hair was caught in a coil as perfect, Haley Garrett thrust a stiletto heel against the accelerator, sending the massive truck rocketing ever faster through darkness.
The hour was late—a harvest moon gleamed in a blue-black sky. But Haley gave no more thought to breathtaking Southern nights than she did to the glittering gala and the attractive man she’d deserted to come careening through the countryside.
Her riveted gaze rarely straying from the ribbon of unfamiliar asphalt, she thought of little but her destination, and the mystery awaiting her there. At last, as she passed through an open gate, thickets of pine and palm gave way to an avenue of oaks. Draped in ghostly moss, their massive limbs entwined over the lane in a leafy cathedral, sealing away the sky, the stars, the moon.
Beyond the gate there would be miles of carefully tended fences. Fences guarding the many pastures of River Trace, premier horse farm of the South. She had heard the land was beautiful. She knew the horses bred there were extraordinary. But for Haley, the land was rent by the remembered screams of a single horse.
Hurt, maddened, its cries echoed unceasingly in her mind.
Even muffled over the telephone, the terrifying sounds had played a ghastly musical accompaniment to the desperate summons. No, worse than desperate. Jackson Cade would be worse than desperate to seek the help of Haley Garrett, newcomer to quaint Belle Terre, the city’s newest Doctor of Veterinary Medicine.
The last of the trees flashed by, the truck burst into a flood of moonlight. Before her lay a midnight pastoral scene of South Carolina’s lowcountry. With its shabby manor and sprawling lawns, it might have been taken from the pages of history.
“All that’s lacking is the mint julep,” Haley muttered, and was instantly contrite. Sarcasm was not normally a part of her attitude. But neither was she normally as anxious as now.
Driving on, she discovered the one jarring note was the main barn. Built in historic style, it was too obviously new. As light blazed from within the structure that, in time, would blend with its surroundings, Haley knew the interior would be uniquely modern.
Bringing the truck to a halt, she leaped to the ground. Pausing only to fling aside elegant sandals, she stamped her feet into practical boots and pulled on equally practical gloves.
Unconcerned by the paradox of her costume, but making a mental note that jeans and a sturdy shirt should be added to the supplies stored in the truck, she snatched up her medical bag. Thankful for the deep slit in her narrow skirt, Haley dashed for the barn, the thick grass muffling her footsteps until she stepped onto a cobblestone path by the entrance.
Blinded by the glare of lights, scarcely inside the open door, she paused. Shading her eyes with a hand at her forehead, she waited for her vision to adjust. In that little time Haley knew she’d been right. The barn was state-of-the art in horse breeding.
“Doc.” A figure appeared at the end of the spotless hall. She recognized the voice before she could make out his face.
“Jesse.” His name was her greeting. The familiar drawl belonged to Jesse Lee. The Arizona cowboy had come to the lowcountry to serve as foreman at nearby Belle Reve, where Gus Cade, patriarch of the Cade family, ruled with an iron will.
Given his vast knowledge of horses, and the proximity of the plantations, it wasn’t surprising Jesse was here. Haley had expected that in the absence of Lincoln Cade, her veterinary partner, Jesse would be first choice at River Trace. As the horse quieted, she wondered where the rest of the staff could be.
Where he could be.
He. Jackson Cade, Lincoln’s brother, third of Gus Cade’s sons. The man who’d disliked her and rejected her help with his horses, until now. Until he, not Jesse, made the call.
Haley forced herself to proceed calmly. If she was not calm, she would be of little help. “How is he?” she asked, wondering if she meant the berserk horse or its owner. Remembering the tone of the call, she thought the question could apply to man or beast. “The situation sounded urgent. I came as quickly as I could.”
“’Pears