Her laugh sounded fake. “You didn’t know about my grandfather’s collection? Ferg Prescott left behind a whole garage full of vintage cars, most of them still working. That’s where my father got his Cadillac. I chose this little Corvette to drive while I’m here.”
“That collection must be worth a lot.”
“A small fortune. But I can’t imagine selling even one of them. They’re like the family treasure.”
Looking at her, thinking how lovely she was, how warm and tender and open, Sky felt an unaccustomed ache. Right now he needed her in a way that had nothing to do with sex. The idea of stopping the car, cradling her in his arms, and sharing his burden with her—who he was, where he’d come from, and why he was so troubled tonight—was tempting. But no, he’d be almost certain to regret telling her. If he needed to talk to anybody, he could talk to Jasper. Or better yet, he could keep his conflicting feelings to himself.
Lauren pulled up to the house without switching off the engine. The message was clear. He was to get out now and let her go.
Sky opened the door and climbed out of the low-slung car. “Call me if you need anything, Lauren,” he said, quietly closing the door. “I’ll be here for you.”
“Will you? How charitable of you!”
Those were the only words she spoke before she gunned the engine and sped back down the drive.
CHAPTER 11
Three weeks had passed since Lauren’s return. The drought that had started as a cause for gut-gnawing worry had become a hell of burning sun and blowing dust. The governor of Texas had applied for federal disaster relief and was likely to get it. But no amount of government money could coax rain from the heavens.
With little water to fight them, wildfires were breaking out to race across the tinder-dry grasslands. So far the Rimrock had been spared, but Beau had posted a notice that any cowhand caught smoking outside the gravel bunkhouse area would be fired on the spot. Though the order made sense, it heightened the strain among the men. Yesterday Beau had broken up a fistfight between two cowboys, sent them packing, and put the rest on notice. Everybody was on edge, even Jasper.
“Hellfire, I’ve seen it bad but never like this!” The old cowboy sat in his rocker on the porch, sharing a cup of pre-dawn coffee with Sky. He’d survived his brush with death, but the episode had taken its toll. He would never be as strong as before. “It’ll damn near break Will’s heart to sell those steers off early. I know he was countin’ on a good price for them this fall.”
“Better than watching them starve,” Sky said, “or going broke buying more hay to feed them. Blasted hay’s become like green gold. At least somebody’s making money.”
With even the paddock drying up, the ranch was buying extra hay for the horses as well as the cattle. Given the demand everywhere, the price of hay had skyrocketed.
He glanced toward the house. There was a light on in the kitchen, where Will and Beau would be finishing breakfast. From the bunkhouse, the faint breeze carried the aromas of coffee and frying bacon. With daytime temperatures soaring past a hundred degrees, it made sense to start work in the cooler hours of early dawn.
“How’re them colts coming along?” Jasper asked. “You’ve been working ’em pretty hard, ’specially since that little Prescott gal stopped comin’ over.”
“The colts are doing fine. I’ll be taking a few of them out today. As for the girl, no comment.” Sky hadn’t seen Lauren since the night she’d driven him home. She’d had Beau send her the remaining files so she could finish the work on her own computer. Her message was clear, and Beau was discreet enough not to question Sky about it.
“Right pretty thing, ’specially for a Prescott.” Jasper sipped his coffee. “Beau mentioned that she’d taken quite a shine to you.”
“Like I said, no comment.” Setting his empty cup on the porch, Sky strode down the steps. “Time to get to work. Take it easy, Jasper. Stay out of the sun.”
“Oh, stop mollycoddlin’ me. I’ll be fine.”
The old man’s voice followed Sky as he headed for the barn. He avoided looking toward the drive, where Lauren had always parked her black Corvette. He knew she wasn’t coming back, but he couldn’t look at that empty space without missing her.
Several of the sharpest colts had finished their training in the round pens, including a few sessions with the docile older cows that kept them company in the paddock. Now it was time for the young horses to be taken out on the open range, to perform their maneuvers on rough ground while dealing with unfamiliar sights, smells, and sounds. After that they’d be trailered up onto the caprock to work the herd, first with Sky, then with other riders. By the time they were finished, they’d know their job almost well enough to do it by themselves. It was a time-consuming process. But that intensive schooling was what made Rimrock-trained cow ponies so prized.
Sky had his hands full, doing it all alone. But finding the right help wasn’t easy. He’d hope to train his cousin Lute as his assistant, but Lute had been a disaster from the start. Sky might have considered Marie. She’d always been good with animals, including horses. But she was cut from the same cloth as Lute, and she was already in trouble. As for Coy, even if he were to turn up and beg for a job, Sky wanted nothing to do with him.
The most gifted, natural-born horse handler on the ranch was Erin. She had all the right instincts. But the colts could be dangerous. Will’s daughter was too young and precious to risk to their flying hooves and nipping teeth.
By the time Sky hauled his gear out of the tack room in the barn, the dawn was beginning to pale in the east. He was looking forward to taking Quicksilver for his first outing. The cat-footed gray gelding was the smartest of the colts and so responsive that, if the Rimrock hadn’t been desperate for money, Sky would have lobbied to keep him.
They rode out across the flat, then circled back across the sun-scorched pastureland, passing the seep where Jasper had wrecked his ATV. A few weeks ago Sky had driven the old man out to the spot to see if it might jog his memory of what had happened. But Jasper could only frown and shake his head. If he’d seen the shooter, the trauma had blotted it from his mind. Now any evidence that remained had blown away with the dust—and Coy Fletcher, the most likely suspect, seemed to be gone for good.
A jackrabbit bounded across their path, almost under Quicksilver’s hooves. The gelding snorted but didn’t rear or try to bolt.
“Good boy.” Sky patted the dappled shoulder. “Let’s see what else you can do.” Finding an open spot, he took Quicksilver through backing and turning and the other maneuvers he’d learned. With minimal urging, the young horse performed to near perfection. Nudging him to an easy canter, Sky headed toward the escarpment to try the moves again on steeper, rougher ground.
A quarter mile to his right, at the bottom end of the lower pasture, was a foul bog that covered more than an acre. Drying in the heat, the stagnant muck gave off a stench that Sky could smell even at a distance. The cattails around the bog’s edge were brown and withered. Rotted carcasses of lost calves and wild animals, exposed by the receding water, drew buzzards, ravens, and swarms of carrion-feeding insects.
Sky hated that bog. A mias