who had been through what she’d endured. She suffered from more than a little bit of post-traumatic stress disorder. She understood the symptoms, but didn’t feel as if she were in control of any of them.
She’d also learned in the past two weeks that the easiest way to cope with the emotions that churned just beneath the surface was to completely ignore them. She’d rather be numb than feel anything because she was terrified of what she might feel if she allowed herself.
With another glance at the clock she drew in a deep, steadying breath. She couldn’t put it off any longer. She walked into the living room and to the ornate desk in the corner where a fat ceramic leprechaun smiled from his perch on the top. His stomach was hollow and stored paper clips, thumb tacks and the key to the gun cabinet.
She plucked out the key and moved to the large glass-enclosed cabinet and withdrew a revolver. After checking that it was loaded and the safety was on she tucked it into her jeans waistband and then returned the key to the leprechaun.
She knew how to handle a gun, was a good shot. Although her father often encouraged her to carry a gun when she was out riding the range because of wild critters like mountain lions and coyotes, Caitlin rarely did. She’d always figured any animals she might encounter would be more afraid of her than she was of them.
Today she wanted the weapon with her. She didn’t know what kind of critter Randall Kane might be and she was determined never to be vulnerable again.
She stepped out the back door and into the warm November sunshine. The air smelled of earth and grass and horse, a familiar scent that momentarily filled her with a sense of home, of safety. However, the sense of safety vanished as she saw Randall Kane near the stables with two saddled horses.
You can do this, a little voice whispered inside her head. A ride around the pasture to check out the livestock didn’t sound threatening in any way. Still, it would be the first time she’d been all alone with any man since the horrible event in the jungle.
As she approached him a lazy smile curved his lips and his hot, slightly scruffy handsomeness slammed into her chest with a force that surprised her.
She ignored the tightness in her chest and instead focused on the fact that one of the horses he’d saddled up was her favorite, Buttercup.
The horse greeted her with a soft whinny. “Hey, girl,” she said as she stepped closer and rubbed Buttercup’s nose.
“She looks happy to see you,” Randall said. “One of the other hands told me she’s the one you usually ride.”
“She’s definitely one of my favorites.” She mounted the horse in a fluid motion that came from years of practice and then looked at Randall expectantly. “Let’s ride.”
He mounted his horse, Samson, with equal ease. “Are you expecting trouble?” Those gorgeous green eyes of his gazed pointedly at the gun she’d shoved in her waistband.
“No, just prepared for it if it comes,” she replied and then with a flick of her reins headed toward the distant pastures.
He rode like a cowboy intimately familiar with the saddle, and she found herself wondering how he’d shown up at the O’Donahue ranch at such an opportune time.
Caitlin knew her father had been dissatisfied with the former foreman, Garrett Simms, for a long time, but had felt sorry for the alcoholic who played the victim card each time Mickey had tried to fire him.
But even Mickey wouldn’t be able to overlook the abuse or neglect of any of his beloved horses, and there was no way Simms would be welcomed back this time. If nothing else she’d make sure of that.
She glanced at the man next to her and told herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Who knew why his timing was so perfect? The fact of the matter was, he was here and he seemed competent, and that would do until her father got home.
All thoughts of the man fled from her mind as the herd of horses came into view. Mickey O’Donahue had never wanted to raise champion race horses; rather he’d made part of his massive fortune raising good-natured saddle stock that was sold to individuals and various stables around the country.
The herd consisted of Tennessee walkers, mustangs and American quarter horses in a variety of colors and sizes. Caitlin pulled the reins to bring Buttercup to a halt and Randall reined in next to her.
“The pasture is a bit thin from lack of rain,” he said. “What I’d like to do is add some oat hay into their diets until spring.”
The horses did look lean … a little too lean. “Sounds reasonable,” she agreed. “We work with Wilson’s Feed Store. I’ll call them when we get back to the house and place an order. They should be able to deliver it first thing in the morning.”
He nodded and then pointed into the distance. “Over there by the fence is where I found the mare tangled up in the barbed wire.”
She headed for the area with Randall close behind. Once again they came to a halt and she looked around with a frown. “I can’t imagine how any barbed wire got here. Dad has never used it anywhere on the property.” Despite the higher cost, solid wooden fences surrounded the pastures on the O’Donahue ranch. Mickey had never considered the cheaper alternative of barbed-wire fencing.
“It looked as if somebody had just driven by and tossed it out of a truck or something,” he replied. “After I got the horse loose I pulled it all out and took it to the dump.”
She slid another glance his way, once again wondering where he’d come from and how he’d wound up here. “I’d like you to bring me that résumé we discussed earlier sometime this afternoon,” she said.
“Not a problem,” he replied agreeably. He shifted his weight in the saddle. “I understand you’ve been out of the country for a while.”
“For a couple of months. I’m a plastic surgeon and was working in South America with Doctors Without Borders.”
“Wow, must have been an amazing experience.”
A sudden surge of emotion rose up in the back of her throat and she swallowed hard against it. Amazing wasn’t exactly the adjective she’d use to describe her experience.
“I’m ready to see that mare now.” She turned Buttercup around and as she headed back to the house she allowed the horse full rein. Buttercup responded by breaking into a run.
Caitlin hunkered low, the breeze in her face, the power of the animal beneath her easing some of the tension that had coiled tight inside her in the time since the attack.
She was vaguely conscious of her hair coming loose, flying wildly around her head as Buttercup raced like the wind. A sweet exhilaration filled her.
She’d needed this … the wild abandon that coursed through her as she became one with the powerful horse. She gave herself to the moment, giving up any effort of control as she raced across the pasture.
All too quickly the small corral near the house came into view and she pulled on the reins to slow her gait, the moments of thoughtless pleasure now gone.
She pulled Buttercup to a halt and dismounted as Randall caught up with her. “That kind of riding is what I call chasing out the demons,” he said as he dismounted, as well. His gaze slid the length
