from returning. She’d learned to slow down, to breathe calmly while she heard the word in her mind, then to say it.
A ripple of emotion went through his eyes. For a second she thought he could see right down into the chasm where her soul dwelt, but he didn’t mouth any platitudes and meaningless compassionate phrases. He simply nodded as if her words explained everything and went on his way.
Mary exhaled sharply, then continued up the stairs and into the room he’d said she was to have. She closed and locked the door behind her, then stood there panting as if she’d barely escaped from a trap.
“I’m not afraid of him,” she said aloud, her face in the dresser mirror set and angry. “I’m not a child. I don’t ever have to be afraid again.”
But the memories flooded into her mind—of times when she’d been terrified, of loneliness so intense she’d felt a part of her innermost self had been ripped away, of helplessness because she was a child and her world was filled with strangers who decided her life without consulting her.
The man who was assumed to be her father had abandoned her at a bar in Wyoming. She’d remembered her nickname and that she was three years old, but she didn’t know what had happened to her mother or where their home was. She’d thought she had lots of family at one time, but maybe that was the fantasy of a lonely child.
Two things she remembered very well—the shock of having her head shaved when she was put into the orphanage and the year it had taken for her hair to grow long enough so that her image in a mirror no longer frightened her. For the first four months of that year, she’d quit speaking entirely. She’d felt as if her real self had been stolen. She hadn’t known who she was, where she belonged.
Sometimes, she mused, she felt as if she still didn’t. Perhaps that was why she didn’t like to stay in one place too long. She was looking for the little girl who’d been lost all those years ago…
With a confused sigh, she settled on one of the twin beds in the neat room. Since arriving in Lost Valley that afternoon, she’d felt unsettled and anxious.
She didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if she’d ever been there or had known anyone who’d ever lived in the area.
However, something about the name—Seven Devils—haunted her. While waiting for Jonah’s cousin at the Trading Post to sketch the map on the brochure advertising the ranch, she’d read the legend of the seven monsters who’d crossed the river and eaten the children until Coyote had turned them into the seven peaks grouped around the eastern side of the Snake River. For some reason the story had both intrigued and bothered her.
A shiver ran along her spine as apprehension seized her. She felt danger all around, but she didn’t know if it came from within herself or the seven devils of the legend.
Or from the tall, handsome man whose keen gaze saw more than she wanted to reveal.
Chapter Two
Jonah spotted the forms on the pass-through counter to the office at once the next morning. Since it was barely daylight, he wondered when his new helper had filled them out. He swiftly read the information.
Mary McHale was twenty-six years old. Her birthday was in March. Her mailing address was in care of general delivery at a post office in Wyoming. She’d apparently grown up on a ranch and had worked with horses at rodeos for six years, moving from place to place, then had worked two years in California at a racetrack. Most of the current year had been spent qualifying her horse in steeplechase trials.
Man, she was dreaming big if she was thinking of making the international circuit, or maybe even the Olympic Games.
He finished reading the info. On the next-of-kin line she’d written “None.”
His glance flicked back to the address line. The name of the place was familiar, but from what? Ah, yes. He’d received mailings from there asking for donations for a children’s ranch run by some church group a couple of times this past year. An orphan. That’s why she had no kin.
An unusual emotion shot through him. It took a minute to recognize it as pity. The loneliness implied by having no relatives pinged through him. He thought of all the real and honorary aunts, uncles and cousins he had on the Indian side of his family, of the noisy Irish clan on the paternal side.
It must be tough to be cut off from your relatives, to have no one at all.
He broke off the pitying thought. Other than her working skills and references, her life wasn’t his business.
He’d checked out their animals last night and found them well tended. Okay, so she was experienced as a wrangler. He’d also noticed her horse in a makeshift stall and saw that it had one leg wrapped in elastic bandage. The big stallion had limped when it came over to sniff him.
That explained why she wasn’t competing now.
Glancing out the window at her rig, he wondered if she’d pinned all her hopes on the dun-colored jumper.
He could identify with that. He and Keith had sunk all they had into making this old ranch that had belonged to Keith’s grandfather into a profitable business once more.
They were actually managing to do that, but only by running an RV camp in the summer and a hunting lodge in the fall and early winter. They also held business retreats and paramilitary games to teach strategy, team-work and thinking outside the box. He had a reputation as an expert in that department, one that he’d cultivated for business purposes.
With an MBA from Wharton, he’d worked for ten years as an ad executive in New York. During that time, he’d also written a bestselling book on business techniques. When he’d reached the point that he couldn’t stand making up another slogan or jingle for a thirty-second sound bite, he’d returned to his roots for a vacation and ended up buying into the ranch with Keith and staying, much to his mother’s delight.
He punched the new wrangler’s info into the computer and added her to the payroll. He sent an e-mail to their insurance agent to include her on the business account for health as well as workmen’s comp.
Keith would question the latter decision, but Jonah figured she couldn’t afford it on her own. If she could handle the stock and help at the lodge, they would have to give her a raise, too. That was only fair.
Hearing noise outside, he filed the employment forms and headed for the back. He lifted his head and sniffed the air as he strode along the corridor. A delicious aroma came from the kitchen.
There he found coffee already brewed in the big urn. Fresh muffins were piled in a towel-lined basket. After filling a cup, he grabbed a muffin and bit into the heavenly taste of nuts and blueberries.
Ignoring the chill of early morning in the mountains, he went out on the porch with the food. He saw the trail horses and pack mules were in the correct pasture. The big dun was with them.
He went inside for another muffin and returned to the porch. The hired help was walking up the path.
“Good morning,” he said.
Her head jerked up in surprise. Or maybe alarm. It was difficult to tell. As she had yesterday, she wore glasses that went from a light tint to dark gray according to the degree of light. Her hair was tucked under her hat.
