but at least she would do so to her face.
“About the wedding,” she said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t be your maid of honor.” That role, and the responsibility it carried, seemed even more important to Shadow than if Blossom had simply asked her to be one of several bridesmaids.
“Of course you will.” Sitting on the porch steps of the house she shared with Logan, Blossom pushed a stray russet curl off her forehead.
“Thanks for asking me, but...” And here came the thin lie she didn’t want to tell. “I’m so busy—swamped—with the agency right now.” Which wasn’t exactly untrue. “I’m overbooked.” There was no way, after she’d told Grey about their child, that she could stand up with him at a wedding. That he could want her to be there. As best man, he’d be close to her all day and yet they’d be so far apart. “I may have to hire more help.” Even to her ears, that sounded weak.
“You’ll be working that Saturday? Come on, it’s not really the agency,” Blossom said, as if she could see straight through Shadow. “I think this is about Grey. I told Logan this might be a problem.”
Her insight didn’t surprise Shadow. Blossom had seen her with Grey at the birthday party for Blossom’s soon-to-be stepson. It had been no secret that Shadow had wanted to avoid him.
“I just talked to him in town,” she admitted.
“I shouldn’t pry. Logan told me you two broke up years ago for some awful reason, but I can see that Grey still loves you.”
Shadow’s heart turned over. “Which doesn’t help. We always had a rocky relationship—on-again, off-again, with lots of drama—” And love, she thought. For a moment she couldn’t go on, yet Blossom had a right to know at least part of the truth. “Then there was a shooting accident. The sheriff, the coroner, the forensics lab—no one could determine whose fault it was, exactly—though most people still think they know—and Grey was never charged. But I’d still lost him... Jared, I mean. He was my older brother, and of all the kids in my family, I was closest to him. I still miss him,” she said.
“I’m sorry, Shadow. I didn’t know.”
She stared down at her shoes, soft loafers today from her ever-growing collection. “The town’s still talking about that, more again since I came back to Barren.” She sighed. “Now you know why I can’t be in your wedding.” Part of the reason.
Blossom sat back to rest her spine against the riser of the next step as she rubbed her pregnant stomach. Her coming baby had played a big part in helping Blossom turn her life around with Logan, and Shadow envied her that new start.
A brief silence fell. Shadow could see the disappointment in her brown eyes. Blossom didn’t know that many people in Barren. Shadow was probably leaving her in the lurch.
She squeezed Blossom’s hand, then got to her feet. “I’d better get going.” As always, when she visited the Circle H, which was rare, she tried to avoid a glance toward Grey’s neighboring ranch. Today, she couldn’t. He was too much on her mind, the stunned look on his face when she’d told him about the pregnancy. Just over the slight hill between the two properties, she could glimpse the roof of his barn. She said weakly, “Tell Logan I said hey.”
Blossom stood, too, wobbling to gain her balance until Shadow cupped a hand under her elbow to steady her. “Thanks. My center of gravity is off these days.” She paused. “Please think about this, Shadow. I know it would be difficult for you with Grey in the wedding party, but there’s no one else I’d rather have for my maid of honor even if I knew everyone in town and had lived here all my life.”
Shadow had to bite her lip against another rush of tears. “That’s sweet, Blossom. I’m honored.” She moved toward her car. “Grateful,” she added. “But really, I...can’t.”
She regretted having to say no, letting down her new friend. Now, all because of the tragedy from years ago, she’d hurt two people. Blossom and Grey.
IN THE DARK, on a slight rise above the lower pasture near the western boundary of his ranch, Grey trained his binoculars on the grass below and several hundred yards away. Earlier, on a hunch, he’d decided to keep watch tonight. Lying flat on his stomach, he doubted he could be seen behind this low scrub, but something was definitely going on. A few cows had skittered off, bawling, raising Grey’s blood pressure and generating a surge of adrenaline. Then he heard the rumble of an approaching vehicle.
He muttered a curse as a big white truck towing a stock trailer rolled to a stop by the roadside. Trouble, all right.
He’d been expecting, even hoping, to see vandals. A couple of teenagers, maybe, out on a lark after prom or graduation at the local high school. Celebrating. Or rather, making mischief by knocking over mailboxes or cutting fence. Not this. What he suspected was about to happen would be far worse. And devastating to his bottom line—if he let it happen.
As he watched, the trailer’s back gate opened. With a screech of metal on metal, the ramp rattled down. A wiry figure in dark clothing glanced around, then walked up to the fence Grey had fixed properly just before dusk. And snipped the wire.
“No, you don’t,” Grey said to himself, but the man was already through. He coiled up a rope then sent the loop sailing through the air with an audible hiss. Not bad form, but his first try missed. One of the Angus cows that had run off before took off again. “You won’t,” Grey said, but he didn’t move. Not yet.
On his second throw, the man snagged a young heifer.
Grey grabbed his cell phone. When the sheriff’s dispatcher answered, Grey said in a low tone, “Get me some help out here. Rustlers,” then hung up.
The heifer, which had recently been weaned, was being herded to the van, protesting all the way. A cow, most likely its mother, bellowed in answer. The whole herd milled around, boxy dark shapes in the night caught between apparent concern for the younger cow and their instinctive need to flee. In the next pasture, Grey’s best bull paced back and forth behind an uncut fence, eyeing the action, intent upon protecting his cows.
Grey reached for his rifle.
The sheriff would come, but his office in Barren was miles away. By the time he got here, the thieves would be gone.
Grey cocked the rifle. He wasn’t close enough to be accurate with the weapon and didn’t want to warn them, but if it came to shooting...he would. He would prefer to get hard proof of the theft, rather than scare them off, just as he wanted evidence to clear himself in Jared Moran’s death—if things turned out his way. That meant waiting until the cows were on board before he made his move.
For a few moments longer, he eyeballed the three rustlers through the scope as they rounded up half a dozen cows and a few calves and drove them up the ramp. The men weren’t subtle; they worked with speed yet didn’t seem to care if anyone saw them. Then again, on this stretch of road that wasn’t likely. The whole time Grey had been here, not a car or rancher’s pickup had passed by. Most local people would be in bed at this time of night. Like Grey, they got up at dawn, if not before, worked hard all day then turned in early to get ready for the next.
The ramp screeched up again. The rear gate banged shut.
The
