Heaven's Gift aka Kiss of an Angel

Chapter Seven

An hour and a half later, after checking the west fences and the creek for any problems and finding none, J.T. reined Quinn to a stop in a meadow brimming with wildflowers. Caitlan's mare, Blaze, automatically halted beside him. The creek cut a path through the meadow, and a huge apple tree, veiled with green leaves and white blossoms, dominated the area, its branches extending to form a shady canopy. Two elk sprinted into a nearby copse of brush and trees, followed by a scampering ground squirrel.

Caitlan's gaze encompassed the daisies, primrose, and wild yellow plum blooming in riots of color around them. "This place is beautiful," she said softly.

"Yeah." J.T. didn't know what, exactly, had drawn him here, especially since it had been years since he'd come to this spot. So many memories of Amanda lived here, of their childhood together, that he reconsidered the wisdom of bringing Caitlan to a place he almost thought of as sacred.

Strangely, the grief and pain he used to feel when visiting this meadow was now only a dull, distant sorrow. Maybe coming here was a good thing, he decided. Maybe it was time to face old memories, then pack them away for good.

J.T. dismounted Quinn in a fluid motion. "Ready for lunch?"

Smiling, Caitlan slid off Blaze and removed her jacket, hooking it on the saddle. "Sounds great. I'm starved."

He grinned back. "Good. Laura packed plenty of food." He handed her the knapsack and blanket he'd brought along. Taking her mare's reins, and Quinn's, he led the horses to the creek and left them there to graze.

"Will they be okay like that?" Squinting against the sunshine, Caitlan watched J.T. approach her again.

"Unless something spooks them they'll be content to graze on the grass." Grabbing the blanket from her, he snapped it out under the tree. Tossing his hat to the corner of the blanket, he ran his fingers through his hair and gestured with his other hand for Caitlan to sit down. He joined her and divvied up the food.

They ate in companionable silence, punctuated by an occasional comment about the ranch and its operation, or something equally mundane. The light scent of apple blossoms curled around them, and the faint hum of bees in the trees served as a relaxing symphony.

Caitlan finished her sandwich and potato salad and put away the remnants of her lunch. She licked a smear of mayonnaise from her thumb. "I do have to say, Laura puts together a terrific meal."

"It wasn't half bad." J.T. reclined lazily on the blanket. "Apple?" he offered, then crunched into his own.

She shook her head. "Maybe later. I think I'll go rinse my hands in the creek."

Away from J.T., Caitlan absorbed her surroundings, searching beyond the beauty of the land to tap into something more profound. Since the moment they'd arrived at this meadow, peculiar sensations had taken up residence in her. As if she'd been here before with J.T. But how could that be?

Dipping her hands into the creek, the water sparkled from the sun as it rippled away from her and over the smooth rocks. Glancing downstream, she saw places where the creek was shallow, where a person could easily walk across, and other areas too deep to detect anything but a bottomless, black pit. A chill swept through her, despite the pleasant warmth of the spring day, and she straightened, backing away from the swirling water. In her mind's eyes she saw the water churning and a little girl struggling to keep her head above the surface and slowly losing the battle.

Heart pounding, Caitlan turned away from the creek and banished the oppressive image. Where had that vision come from? she wondered, still a little shaken, as if she'd been the little girl on the verge of drowning.

Dismissing her unease, she started back toward J.T., smiling at his relaxed pose. He lay on his back, hands stacked beneath his head, eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in slow, even breaths. She stole a few moments to admire his lean form, and the way denim and flannel fit his muscular build to perfection.

Not wanting to disturb him, she strolled to the base of the tree, compelled by forces she didn't understand. A familiarity ribboned around her, like invisible strings pulling her closer to a precipice. A deeply etched carving in the trunk of the tree caught Caitlan's attention: a heart with an inscription of some sort, she noticed. She smiled at the sweet sentiment, until she stood close enough to recognize the names engraved in the center of the heart. J.T. loves Amanda.

Tentatively touching her finger to the smooth engraving, Caitlan traced the letters, feeling as though this was somehow a part of her. Deeply and widely sculpted, the declaration would remain for decades in the tree. Warmth rushed through her veins, and images flashed in her mind.

Young J.T. held the blond-haired girl's hand, pulling her toward the large tree by the creek.

"I've got a surprise for you, Mandy. Look."

The girl's breath caught when she saw the heart carved in the tree; then her face reflected the love he'd inscribed for her there.

"I did it so everyone will know how much I love you," he said.

"Amanda," Caitlan whispered, the name thick in her throat. Amanda, the girl in her visions with J.T. Caitlan frowned. Why did she share such a strong and powerful link to these two people, that she could tap into their past and see it so clearly? Heaven help her, what was the significance of these visions?

She glanced over her shoulder at J.T. Eyes open, he regarded her pensively, as if he too was remembering the day he'd shown Amanda the carved heart.

"Is she the one who died?" Caitlan knew before he answered that Amanda was the woman he'd loved and lost: his eternal soulmate.

"Yes." A sad smile brushed his mouth. "This was our special place. I think we christened it our meadow the day she fell into the creek."

"What happened?"

He hesitated, as if debating whether or not to share the memories with her. After a moment he propped himself up on his side, a reminiscent smile curving his mouth. "Amanda was seven, and she and my sister had come here to play with their dolls. I just happened to ride by on my mare, with the intention of antagonizing them, as all good brothers do to their little sisters and their friends. I saw Amanda slip and fall into one of the deepest parts of the creek. She couldn't swim, so I dove in and saved her from drowning."

That explained her earlier vision of the little girl struggling in the creek, Caitlan thought, but it didn't unravel the mystery of why she had experienced those momentary flashes of fear, as if she was the one drowning.

She went back to the blanket and sat cross-legged a few feet away from J.T. "I take it you became her hero?" she prompted, wanting to know more about this illusive child-woman who'd captured his heart.

"Yeah. After that day she was a complete nuisance, always following me around like a devoted puppy. We played together, but I remember wondering if Amanda would always be my shadow." Shaking his head, he chuckled softly. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. "Then I grew up and discovered why boys like girls so much. I started looking at Amanda differently, started noticing she had nice breasts and long legs. And whenever I got too close to her or she'd accidentally brush up against me, I'd feel warm and anxious…and aroused. Typical male hormones running rampant," he said with a grin. Then his humor fled, his expression touched with melancholy. "It only took a kiss, a very reluctant kiss from her," he admitted, "to know we were made for each other."

"Childhood sweethearts." Caitlan pulled up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs.

"Yeah." His finger drew lazy patterns on the red-and-black-checkered squares on the blanket. "We grew up together. Our families had been neighbors all our lives, so it seemed only natural that the two of us get together. I don't think either of our parents expected it to last, but I knew Amanda was the only one for me. I knew we'd get married someday… " His voice trailed off, his eyes filling with a tangible pain.

Caitlan watched him struggle with an internal anguish, his torment becoming her own. His loss and pain weighed heavily on her, making her heart ache. Unexplainable emotions crowded her throat, and she resisted the urge to touch him and chase away his misery.

He took a deep breath and forged on, as if wanting to purge himself of all his haunting memories. "Remember in the line shack when I was dreaming?"

"Yes."

"I was dreaming of Amanda, and when I started to wake up I thought you were her." An abrupt, harsh laugh escaped him. "I actually thought Amanda hadn't died, and I was so disappointed to find it was all just a dream. She was my life, Caitlan."

He stared at her for long moments, then reached up and ran the back of his knuckles down Caitlan's cheek, a feather touch so gentle it made her breath catch. A distinct tingle shot through her as their gazes locked. Very softly he said, "You remind me a lot of her."

An illusion of intimacy shimmered around Caitlan, and something else, a nagging familiarity that tugged at the edges of her consciousness. You remind me a lot of her. Could that explain the bond to him, and Amanda? And what, exactly, was her resemblance to Amanda?

"Do I… look like her?" Caitlan asked, needing to find answers to all the confusing emotions and visions plaguing her on this mission.

A lazy smile eased up the corner of his mouth. "She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours." His finger brushed over the crease in her cheek before falling away. "But that's where the physical similarities end. She had blond hair."

She had eyes like yours, the same deep violet color. And she had a dimple too, like yours. A pressure clamped around Caitlan's chest, suffocating her. Something taunted her conscience, like an itch she couldn't quite reach to scratch. Mentally, she searched her own background, desperate for answers, but found that section of her memory locked from her, as if she suffered from amnesia.

Frustration coiled through her. Why couldn't she remember any of her own memories of her past? Determined to learn more about this woman who seemed such an integral part of her visions, Caitlan asked, "What happened to Amanda?" When J.T. glanced at her questioningly she clarified, "I mean, how and when did she die?"

His mouth tightened with grief, and his eyes flashed with old, harbored anger. Immediately Caitlan knew she'd barged past the boundaries J.T. had constructed around his heart and those painful memories. "I'm sorry, J.T. I didn't mean-"

"No, it's okay." Heaving a heavy sigh, he pulled a blade of grass from the edge of the blanket and began shredding it. "I've never really talked about that night, but… I want to now."

Caitlan propped her chin on her knees and listened attentively as J.T. recited the events of his last night with Amanda: how he'd taken her to the line shack and proposed to her for her eighteenth birthday. He told Caitlan of their hopes and dreams for the future, painting a beautiful picture of two people so deeply in love that their devotion and passion for one another wove through Caitlan like intrinsic ribbons to her soul.

Then the darker side of the story came, the ending to the beginning of J.T. and Amanda's life together.

"We were on our way to tell her parents about our engagement when a drunk driver hit us head on." J.T.'s voice vibrated with gut-wrenching loss. "Amanda was killed instantly."

At that moment Caitlan was thrust into a maelstrom of visions and emotions that echoed through her body and brought on a splitting headache that made her gasp.

The screech of brakes. The grind of metal against metal. Screams that seemed to rip from her soul. Shattering glass. Horrible, awful pain. Darkness. Then a burst of light at the end of a black corridor, accompanied by a peacefulness as she drifted up and away, toward the sky.

The medallion burned like fire between Caitlan's breasts, and she pulled the gold pendant out of her blouse, wanting more than ever to summon her Superiors and ask them what was going on and why she was experiencing such intense recollections that made no sense to her. And why, heaven help her, had she experienced Amanda's terror and anguish during the car crash?

"Caitlan? Are you okay?" J.T.'s hand was on her knee, shaking her back into the present.

Caitlan blinked, and the tears gathered in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. She dropped the hot medallion, deliberately setting it on the outside of her blouse until it completely cooled.

Hand trembling, she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks, still stunned by her reaction to his tale. Sniffling, she offered J.T. a wobbly smile. "That's such a sad story."

"Don't cry, Caitlan. It happened sixteen years ago." J.T. sat up. Caitlan's tears affected him deeply, because he knew they were genuine and offered in compassion. God, she was so sweet and pure, so unpretentious and giving-the same qualities he'd loved in Amanda and had thought no other woman possessed.

He thumbed another tear from her cheek, loving the silky texture of her skin. "I've learned to live with the loss, but I'd be a liar if I said I've never wondered what my life would be like if Amanda hadn't died. I still think about it. And sometimes I've even wished I would have died instead of her."

Caitlan's eyes widened slightly. "No!"

Her heated protest made him smile. "Yeah, you're right. Then I never would have had Laura." Then I never would have met you. Unable to define where that had come from, he mentally shook the thought right out of his head.

And just as easily another thought took its place. He wanted to kiss her, and the soft, sensual look in her violet eyes said she wanted it too. But he'd tasted her before, and he knew better than to think he'd be able to put her aside after one kiss. No, if his mouth so much as touched hers, he wouldn't stop until they'd made love-and it would be a long, slow, lazy process because he'd want to taste and explore every inch of her. Even then he couldn't guarantee that would be enough to satisfy him. Not with her.

His eyes slid from her parted lips to the pendant around her neck: the pendant she'd clutched so desperately only minutes before. The gold glowed as if it held a life of its own, just like the first time he'd seen it in the line shack while she'd checked his head injury. This time, he gave into temptation and picked up the medallion. The warm gold tingled in his palm as he examined the swirled design.

He glanced up at her. A banked wariness lit her eyes, and he noticed she watched him closely. "Where did you get this?" he asked easily.

J.T. heard the reluctance in her voice when she replied, "Its been in the family for years."

"It's… different." The medallion did look like a family heirloom, but there was something else about it that lured and fascinated him. He rubbed his thumb over the surface, and a heat radiated up his arm, tingling along his nerve endings. Then, incredibly, he felt a pull on his senses, like a huge magnet drawing the very life out of him. He was powerless to stop it from happening. In the next instant a part of him seemed to merge with Caitlan, in her mind, in her soul, a union so extraordinary in its power and beauty, he felt intimately joined with her, heart, body and soul. The pendant blazed like fire in his hand and he let it drop back to her blouse.

The whole exchange had happened so fast, he wondered if he'd only imagined the odd experience. The startled look in Caitlan's eyes confirmed that something had passed between them, but he couldn't bring himself to ask and possibly look like a fool for suggesting a psychic encounter had momentarily linked them. The incident had been too weird for his peace of mind, like a quick out-of-body experience.

Maybe he was losing his mind, he thought.

Deciding it was time to get back on the trail and put things into proper perspective, he grabbed his hat and jammed it on his head. He stood and extended his hand to her. "It's getting late. We'd better head back."

She nodded her agreement and put her hand in his, allowing him to help her up. "Thank you," she said softly, her fingers flexing in his palm.

They stood there, neither one moving, gazes locked. Caitlan's eyes darkened and her cheeks flushed with awareness. Her tongue darted out to touch her lower lip, as though the lingering effects of their encounter had aroused her. J.T. swore under his breath as a surge of heat sped through his veins. Hell, his own traitorous body throbbed with sexual excitement, demanding satisfaction. For a reckless second J.T. thought about damning consequences and lowering his mouth to hers and letting things proceed from there. Lord knew they both wanted each other, the sexual tension between them so palpable nothing but a physical joining could ease it.

Knowing nothing could come of them making love, despite the closeness they'd established this afternoon, J.T. summoned every source of willpower he possessed. He tried to convince himself that Caitlan would be grateful he hadn't taken advantage of the situation once she was back in the city, where she belonged, heart intact.

Distance, Rafferty; you need to put distance between you. Letting go of her hand, he stepped away. "You fold the blanket and I'll get the horses," he said in a rough voice. He headed toward Quinn and Blaze, hating the glimpse of hurt he'd seen in Caitlan's gaze. He swore again. Didn't she know how difficult it was to walk away from the sweet promise in her eyes?

Once they were packed up and mounted, J.T. spurred Quinn into a heavy gallop, as much to work off his frustration as to get back to the house and around people so Caitlan wouldn't be such a temptation. He made sure Blaze kept up, but left enough distance between himself and Caitlan so that conversation was impossible.

Coming up the last hundred yards, J.T. slowed Quinn. Looking ahead, he noticed a cluster of people standing around the barn-a few hands, Frank, Kirk, and Randal. Off to the side, Paula embraced Laura in a hug, his daughter's face buried in the woman's shoulder. Laura's friend, Karen, stood beside them, looking as though she'd been crying.

A sense of foreboding twisted in J.T.'s gut. Bringing Quinn to an abrupt halt, he jumped off the horse, tossed the reins to a nearby hand, and strode toward Frank, Kirk, and Randal.

Just as he reached the trio, Laura broke away from Paula and ran toward him. "Dad!" she wailed, tears streaming down her face.

J.T. caught his daughter in his arms. She bawled against his chest, her body trembling violently as she clung to him. Momentarily stunned, he tried to console and calm her with words and gentle caresses, but she only cried harder. The words she spoke were unintelligible, garbled by her sobs and tears.

Fearing something had happened to jeopardize his daughter's life, he glanced up at his men, vaguely aware that Caitlan had come up beside him and was attempting to pacify Laura.

"What's going on?" he demanded.

The three men looked at him uneasily. Kirk spoke, his tone as grim as his expression. "Someone put Missy's kittens into King's stall."

Caitlan gasped audibly, and Laura's sobs increased.

"What?" J.T.'s fear of seconds before liquified to white-hot outrage.

"It's true." Frank shifted on his feet, glancing from Caitlan to Laura, and then back to J.T. again. "King, uh, trampled them to death."

J.T. let out a string of swear words he'd neverused in the presence of ladies before, but anger overruled his manners. "Who the hell would do such a thing?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Randal said, averting his gaze to the entrance of the barn.

J.T. glanced around for Mike. Just before leaving with Caitlan today he'd issued the man a slight reprimand. Would he be spiteful enough to kill innocent kittens? And was this incident at all related to what had happened to him at the creek? Or was this a warning of some sort from the sick person stalking him? Damn, he didn't like not being able to trust his own hands.

"Who found the kittens?" he asked.

Kirk cast a sympathetic look at Laura. "Laura and Karen found them about fifteen minutes ago."

"Ah, Smidget," J.T. murmured, rocking her gently, his heart breaking for her. "I'm so sorry."

Laura looked up at him, her eyes puffy from the tears she'd shed, misery in their depths. "They're… they're all dead." She gulped in a breath, then another sob broke from her.

"Shhh." J.T. comforted Laura for a moment longer, then gently extricated her from his arms, anxious to do some investigating. Wanting to separate Laura from the situation, he glanced at Caitlan beside him, grateful for her presence.

Except she seemed preoccupied. A troubling frown marred her brow and suspicion colored her eyes as she glared at Randal. Hell, was the woman still holding a grudge against Randal for his behavior the other night?

Might as well kill two birds with one stone, he thought. "Caitlan, would you please take Laura up to the house?"

She pulled her gaze from Randal and glanced at Laura, her features softening with concern and compassion. "Of course."

Laura shook her head wildly at J.T., on the verge of hysterics. "Who's gonna get the kittens?" she asked around a fresh wave of tears, sobs, and convulsive shudders.

"I'll take care of it," he promised, handing her over to Caitlan. "Go with Caitlan. I'll be up in a bit."

"Come on, honey." Caitlan wrapped her arm around Laura's shoulder and guided her toward the walkway leading to the main house. As Paula and Karen joined her, Caitlan glanced over her shoulder at Randal.

Randal met her gaze, a self-satisfied smirk curling the corners of his mouth. Then he turned and followed the other men into the barn.

The import of Randal's silent goad made Caitlan so physically ill, she thought she'd lose her lunch.

Paula shook her head, her lips pursed in disgust as she looked off into the distance. "I just don't understand who would do such a thing to those poor, helpless kittens."

The answer came all too easily to Caitlan: Randal.

Traumatized by what she'd witnessed, Laura lay on the couch in the living room, hugging a throw pillow to her chest, her body curled into a fetal position. Her head rested in Caitlan's lap, and Caitlan offered whatever comfort she could to the young girl while Paula called Karen's mother to pick up her daughter.

After all Laura's tears had been shed she stared into space, her body shuddering with an occasional sigh or hiccup. Caitlan rubbed Laura's back and played with her hair, granting the girl time to grieve for her precious kittens.

Laura refused to eat dinner. A little after seven, weary and exhausted, Laura fought her body's natural reaction to fall into slumber. Caitlan, seeing Laura's struggle with the inevitable, accompanied her upstairs to her room, helped her into a fresh nightgown, and pulled down the bedcovers.

Laura looked from the bed to Caitlan, her bottom lip trembling. "I don't want to be alone, Caitlan. Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Caitlan realized she'd do anything for this sweet girl. Keeping her company, and keeping the terrible memories of what she'd experienced at bay, was so little to ask. "Sure, honey. Come on; get into bed."

Laura climbed up on the frilly canopied bed and snuggled under the covers. Caitlan turned off the light and joined her, lying on top of the bedspread. Within minutes of Caitlan stroking Laura's hair, the young girl had fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even. Still, Caitlan threaded the silky strands of Laura's hair though her fingers, reluctant to leave her.

A shaft of light from the hallway illuminated the room in a soft glow and enabled her to see Laura's puffy eyes, red nose, and swollen lips. Her features, although softened in repose, still held traces of the tragedy she'd suffered. And what about the emotional scars that would remain forever?

Fierce anger and protectiveness welled in Caitlan. Laura was an innocent person in this whole ordeal, and Caitlan resented that the ugliness had touched her. How far would Randal go in his quest for vengeance?

The sound of someone climbing the stairs brought Caitlan out of her musings. Recognizing J.T.'s lazy, booted stride, anticipation fluttered in her stomach. A moment later he filled Laura's doorway. Tiredly, he leaned his shoulder against the jamb, hip cocked, and crossed his arms over his chest. Silently, he stared toward the bed, his gaze drifting over Laura's prone form.

The hallway light silhouetted his large build, accentuating the width of his shoulders and the leanness of his waist and hips. There was a quiet strength about him that made Caitlan want to slip into his embrace for warmth and comfort. At the same time she had the undeniable urge to touch her mouth to his and soften the hardness there, wanted to caress her thumb over the frown creasing his brow.

His eyes moved from his daughter to her. Their gazes connected in the dimness. An incredible awareness, as hot and vital as flame, replaced the worry she'd detected moments before. Boldly, his smoky gaze traveled the length of her, undressing her with his eyes. Seeing the sensual heat in his gaze, the sudden carnal desire, she knew he was imagining her lying in his bed, naked, waiting for him. She shamelessly wished she were.

Desire danced through her, a wanting so explicit and urgent it should have shocked her but no longer did. This smoldering hunger was a remnant of the heat he'd generated during their picnic but hadn't had the courtesy to extinguish. Desire and need mingled as one, a yearning so powerful that a delicious warmth cascaded through her veins.

She searched for something appropriate to say to break the spell and managed a whispery, "Hi."

"Hi." Wrapped in the shadows of the room, his voice was rough, gravelly, and sexy, sliding over all those warm, secret places that responded so effortlessly to him.

Pushing off the doorjamb, he slowly crossed to the bed and ran his knuckles down Laura's cheek, then smoothed his large hand gently over her head. A shuddering sigh escaped Laura, and she snuggled deeper into her pillow, murmuring incoherent words. Straightening, he glanced at Caitlan, and she saw the true weariness in his eyes.

J.T. jammed his hands on his hips, his expression taking on a protective edge. "How is she?"

"Emotionally exhausted, but I think she'll be fine." Caitlan came up on her elbow, a little self-conscious about being with Laura, as if J.T. might think she was trying to horn in where she really didn't belong. "She didn't want to be alone. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind what?" A wry, private smile touched his lips. "You being a surrogate mom?"

"If that's what you want to call it." She shrugged lightly and glanced at Laura's pretty face, knowing once her mission ended that this child would still be special to her. "She needed someone to be with her. I'm just glad I was around to help."

J.T. rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck. "I should have been with her," he said in a low voice filled with self-recrimination. "But I needed to get to the bottom of this incident with the kittens."

"I understand," she reassured him softly. "And I think Laura understands too."

Their eyes met and held for endless seconds.

Then J.T. expelled a deep, resigned breath. "Thank you, Caitlan. For everything."

"You're welcome." She couldn't help the smile lifting her lips, inordinately pleased that he actually appreciated her and had swallowed his pride enough to admit it. Then her thoughts detoured to more important matters. "Did you find out who's responsible for killing the kittens?"

Laura stirred, shifting onto her back, mumbling something about Tommy pulling on her hair.

J.T. lifted a brow at his daughter's comment, then whispered to Caitlan, "Why don't we finish this discussion down in the kitchen?"

Nodding, Caitlan slid off the bed. She adjusted the covers over Laura and placed a light kiss on the girl's soft cheek. "Sweet dreams, honey." Glancing at J.T., she found him watching her with a caring and warm glimmer in his eyes.

Shaking off the bout of awareness shimmering over her, she passed him as she moved through the doorway. "Let's go," she said, too aware of how quiet the house was, now that Paula had left a half hour ago.

He caught up to her on the stairs. "Who in the hell is Tommy?" he growled like an overly provoked papa bear.

Caitlan grinned at J.T.'s prickly attitude in relation to boys and his little girl. "Probably a boyfriend at school who pulls her hair to get her attention." She shot him a pointed look. "Don't embarrass Laura by asking her about it."

"A boyfriend?" he said incredulously, dogging her steps through the living room. "She's only twelve years old, for crying out loud!"

Caitlan laughed softly, amused. "A very prettytwelve-year-old," she stated emphatically, then gave him a sidelong look. "How old was Amanda the first time you kissed her?" She flicked on the kitchen light and turned to face him.

"Uh, twelve. Damn!" He scowled. "If this Tommy kid so much as touches Laura, I'll break his legs."

For a moment Caitlan wished she could be around when Laura started dating, just to be a buffer between an overprotective father and his daughter. "I sure pity Laura when she starts dating. Are you going to be the kind of father who greets Laura's dates with shotgun in hand?"

His brows lifted a fraction, considering her suggestion. "Not a bad idea."

Caitlan shook her head and dropped the subject, not wanting to be held accountable for planting these wild ideas in J.T.'s head. Laura would never forgive her. Opening the refrigerator, she retrieved the Sloppy Joe mix Paula had prepared for supper, but no one had eaten because of all the earlier chaos. Under the circumstances Frank and Kirk had gone home for supper.

Turning on a burner, she scooped enough meat for J.T.'s meal into a saucepan. "What did you find out about the kittens?"

"Not much as far as who actually threw them into King's stall." He sat down on the bench, legs spread, elbows braced on his knees. Plowing all ten fingers through his hair in a frustrated gesture, he stared at the floor between his booted feet. "Everyone seems to be accounted for when it happened."

While the meat simmered, Caitlan pulled three hamburger buns from the bread box and put them on a plate. Placing a slice of cheese on each, she glanced back at J.T. "Where was Randal?" She strove to keep her tone neutral.

J.T.'s head shot up, his eyes narrowed. "Randal? You think he had something to do with this?"

Caitlan didn't think, she knew for certain Randal had thrown the kittens into King's stall as an act of revenge-toward her and possibly toward Missy for attacking him. Yet she had no concrete evidence beside her gut instinct, and Randal's awful smirk, that he'd actually done the deed.

Heaping the meat onto the buns and cheese, she gave a casual shrug. "I'm just curious where he was when this happened."

"He was with Hank and Sam down at the cook-house when Laura started screaming."

Great alibi, Caitlan thought, but how long had the kittens been dead before Laura found them?

Caitlan set J.T.'s dinner on the table, along with a tall glass of iced tea.

J.T. turned around toward the table, glancing from his plate of Sloppy Joe's to Caitlan, who'd taken a seat across from him. "Thanks. You didn't have to make my dinner." A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. "I'm not such a lousy cook that I couldn't have warmed the meat myself."

She smiled. "I'm sure you could have, but you look exhausted and I really don't mind."

He picked up a sandwich, then looked back at her. "Aren't you going to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. Go ahead."

He devoured the first Sloppy Joe with gusto and gulped down half his iced tea. After swiping his mouth with a napkin he said, "I'm still trying to figure out if this incident with the kittens has anything to do with what happened to me at the creek. I'll be damned if I can think of any reason why someone would want me killed, or what killing those kittens would accomplish. It all seems like someone's demented idea of fun." He picked up another sandwich, a ruthless look entering his eyes. "I especially don't like the thought that my daughter's life could be in danger."

His concern was a very realistic one, Caitlan thought, considering the fact that Randal showed no remorse for the acts of violence he'd already committed. "Are you sure there's no one around here holding a grudge of some sort against you?" she prompted.

J.T. washed a bite of sandwich down with a long drink of iced tea. "The only person who's held a grudge against me has been Randal, but it's a personal grudge that has been ongoing since our childhood." He waved a hand in the air, dismissing Randal as a possible suspect.

Caitlan ignored the subtle hint to let the subject drop. "Does Randal stand to gain anything if you should die?"

"You mean the ranch?"

"Yes."

He shook his head. "No. If anything should happen to me, everything, right down to the last head of cattle, will go to Laura when she turns twenty-one. Until then Kirk and Debbie would have control of the estate and her trust."

He finished off his last sandwich, stood, and took his dish to the sink and rinsed it. Wiping his hands on a dishtowel, he stared out the kitchen window to the darkened night beyond. Caitlan thought this was his way of ending their discussion until he turned around and propped his hip against the counter, looking at her intently.

Indecision warred in his gaze, then finally he said, "There's one person I'm getting increasingly suspicious of."

Startled by the possibility that she'd somehow been wrong about Randal, she sat up straighter. "Who?"

"Mike Peterson, a hand I hired a few months back."

"What has he done?"

"Nothing, really." Releasing a tight breath, he scrubbed a hand down the stubble shadowing his jaw. "At least nothing that I've actually caught him doing, but it's the way he slinks around the place that annoys me. If anyone had a reason to throw those kittens into King's stall, he did."

"Why?" Caitlan found it hard to believe that someone else had as much motivation as Randal for killing those kittens.

"Remember when you came running out of the barn and bumped into me?"

"Yes," she answered cautiously, trying to guess what he was getting at.

"Did you see Mike in there before you came out? He's a lanky guy with dark hair, kind of brooding."

Caitlan hadn't seen anyone but Randal, but that didn't mean Mike hadn't been there, witnessing the argument between herself and Randal. If Mike had, wouldn't he have said or done something to help her? "No, I didn't see him. Why?"

"Because after I sent you up to the house for a jacket I went into the barn and ran into him. He was smoking a cigarette in the tack room and I got on his case about smoking in the barn. He knows better. One little spark and the place would go up like an inferno. He apologized and promised it wouldn't happen again, but there's just something about him I don't trust. I'm thinking about letting him go, but I can't prove he's done anything." He shifted on his feet, frustration rippling through him. "Hell, I don't know anymore, Caitlan. I hate looking at my men, men I've trusted, and wondering if any of them are involved in these incidents."

He whirled around and braced his hands on the counter, his gaze trained out the window again. The muscles across his shoulders bunched with tension, and it took deliberate restraint on Caitlan's part not to jump up and go to him, to put her arms around his waist and offer quiet reassurance and support.

After an eternity of seconds had passed J.T. swore harshly, his words bitter and succinct to match his mood, and pushed away from the counter. Mumbling something about going into his office, he disappeared from the kitchen, leaving Caitlan feeling alone, emotionally drained, and empty inside.

Somehow she knew J.T. felt the same.