How To Lasso A Cowboy

Chapter One

COLORADO 1884

WINSTON TAYLOR EASED back on his horse’s reins, bringing the animal to a halt. He rested his crossed wrists on the saddle horn as the gelding blew noisily and swished his tail at the everpresent flies. Ahead of him, orange, red, and coral rays streaked out from behind deep purple mountain peaks and violet clouds. However, it wasn’t the spectacular sunset that captured Win’s attention.

Instead, it was the small cluster of corrals and buildings set against the breathtaking backdrop that made his heart slide into his throat. A barn with a pole corral disappearing around its side had been added since he’d been here with his pa, but little else had changed in the ensuing ten years.

Ten years since he’d felt a sense of home and belonging.

Ten years since he’d seen Caitlin Brice.

Unease shot through him, making him question his good sense in responding to the telegram. He’d stayed away all these years, even when his father had made his annual visits to his old friend Tremayne Brice. Win had hoped to protect Cait by his absence.

With his pa dead, the Brices were the closest thing to kin Win had, and he’d broken his selfimposed exile because they needed his help. Seeing Cait again would be difficult, and he was thankful her father would be there to act as a buffer between them.

Suddenly impatient, Win clucked his horse into motion. The sooner he found out why they sought his help, the sooner he could accomplish his task and disappear from Cait’s life. Again.

As he drew nearer, the cabin door swung open. A shadowed figure stepped onto the porch and froze, obviously seeing him. He tipped his lowcrowned hat off his forehead, affecting a reckless nonchalance.

He drank in her appearance, from the practical trousers that enhanced her long slender legs and slightly rounded hips, to the loose shirt that camouflaged the gentle curves beneath it. Despite the men’s clothing and rifle gripped in her hands, there was no doubt Cait had blossomed into a beautiful woman.

The ten years evaporated as Win recalled with startling clarity the smoothness of her bare skin, and the way she’d arched against him, giving herself freely without regard to the repercussions of being with him. He’d been fifteenyearold Cait’s first man, and he’d been little more than a boy himself at seventeen.

He sucked in a deep breath and willed his body to ignore the insistent rush of lust that bolted through him. Even after all these years, Cait made him feel like a rutting stallion.

Her lush lips curved downward and her backbone stiffened. Although he couldn’t see her eyes clearly, he knew their blue depths would be snapping with that fierce Brice temper-full of fire and passion.

God, he’d missed her. Not just the woman, but the childhood friend he’d known since they’d been kneehigh. She was the only friend he’d had while growing up, despite the fact they’d only seen one another two months out of each year. His shoulders slumped as he realized his abrupt leavetaking ten years ago had destroyed whatever affection she’d harbored for him.

Isn’t that what I intended, to ensure she wouldn’t pine for me?

He dismounted gingerly, ignoring the twinges in his legs and back from long days in the saddle. After wrapping the leather reins around the hitching post, he faced the woman once more. “Hello, Cait,” he said in a voice husky with disuse.

“Win.” Her voice was cool but she set the rifle down, leaning it against the porch rail.

“I got the telegram.”

She crossed her arms, unintentionally drawing his attention to her modest bosom. “I reckoned.”

He dragged his gaze back to her face and frowned at her terseness. Where had the talkative girl gone? “The message said you needed me.”

Cait flinched, then her lips settled into a grim line. “I need your help.”

He shrugged. “Same thing.”

She glared at him and opened her mouth, then abruptly closed it. She looked beyond him, anger radiating from her ramrodstraight figure.

For a moment, Win was tempted to tell her why he had left so abruptly all those years ago, but the impulse passed. She might understand his reasons, but it wouldn’t make her hate him any less. “You and your pa sent for me. Why?”

She continued to stare over his shoulder, then finally relented and motioned with her chin toward the new circular enclosure. Win turned his head and spotted a magnificent black horse prancing around in the corral. His breath caught and held as he watched the stallion shake its regal head, its mane flowing like an ebony river. The animal must have been concealed by the barn when Win had arrived because he surely would have noticed him.

“He’s our hope to breed and sell more than the runofthemill cattle horses,” Cait continued, her voice not quite steady. “He’s got champion blood running through his veins.”

“Wild?”

She nodded and slid her hands into her pockets. “Me and Pa caught him in the foothills about a month ago. We got half his mares, too.” Her voice possessed a hint of pride.

Win whistled low. “You did good.”

Cait’s lips curled downward. “Except he won’t let anyone near him.” She cleared her throat. “Deil can’t be tamed.”

“Deil?”

“The stallion. It means ‘devil’ in Scottish.”

Win turned back to the stallion, surprised to see it watching them, as if knowing he was the subject of their conversation. “If he can’t be tamed, why did your father send for me?”

“Because Pa figured you were the only man who had a chance.”

Win smiled. Tremayne had always respected the abilities of both Win and his father, Adam, to gentle even the most savage horse. He glanced around. “Where is Tremayne?” He grinned wryly. “In town drinking his supper like he and Pa used to do?”

There was a long moment of silence. “He’s dead,” she said without emotion, her arms crossed tightly.

Win reeled with shock, his mind unwilling to accept the flat pronouncement. “When?”

She shrugged. “Two weeks ago.”

“I’m sorry,” he managed to say past the godawful lump in his throat. Tremayne had been more like an uncle than a friend.

“Me, too.” Cait’s reticence slipped and Win glimpsed the pain beneath her toughasgristle exterior. Suddenly, Win saw a little girl in the woman’s place. Young Cait had caught a butterfly, and ran to him, eager and excited to share her treasure. But when she opened her hand to let it fly away home, the green and blue butterfly was dead. Tears had dribbled down her rosy cheeks and Win, two years older, had comforted her with an awkward hug and a gentle punch to her arm.

Win wanted to do the same now, but suspected Cait would thump him this time, and it wouldn’t be a friendly cuff.

Cait cleared her throat and the brief vulnerability vanished. “I’m sorry about your father, too.”

“Thanks, but it’s been two years.” He paused, and couldn’t help adding with more than a hint of accusation, “You didn’t come to the funeral.”

Her slender fingers curled into her palms and her lips thinned. “Pa was there.”

Win took a deep breath, knowing he would only stir up the past more than he had already if he told her he’d missed her. “I wish you’d wired me about Tremayne. I would’ve liked to pay my respects.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.

“It only would’ve made things harder.” She stared past him again. “I didn’t need you.”

Win studied her proud carriage and sighed. “No, you never did, did you?” he said too softly for her to hear. Fighting both annoyance and guilty acknowledgment, he fished around for a lesspainful subject. “When did you build the barn and second busting pen?”

Her defensiveness eased, but her taut shoulders revealed continuing wariness. “Six years ago for the barn. The corral was put up last month, right before we rounded up the wild horses.” She motioned to the barn and the network of corrals beyond the copse of trees. “This was Pa’s dream.”

Win nodded. “I remember. It was all he talked about- building a horse ranch where folks would come to buy the best horses.” He studied the pale oval of her face through the growing dusk. “It was your dream, too.”

Cait gazed into the fading brilliance of the sunset. Her skin reflected the orange tint of the western horizon. “It still is.” She motioned toward the stallion again. “On his deathbed, Pa asked me to bring you here to tame Deil.”

She faced him, then, and met his gaze. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have sent you that telegram.” She paused, and confessed hoarsely, “I never wanted to see you again.”

After all the years of believing what he’d done was the right thing, her confession shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Yet he’d brought it on himself. He’d wronged her and her father, and had tried to make it right by disappearing from their lives. But he owed them, and Tremayne’s last wish would be his penance. He’d tame the stallion so Cait could attain the dream for both her and her father.

“I understand,” Win finally said. “I’ll leave as soon as the stallion’s ready.”

All emotion seeped from Cait’s features. “I’ll pay you a dollar a day plus room and board.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Yes, I do. This is strictly business.” Steel glinted in her eyes.

“I ain’t likely to forget,” Win said dryly.

“See that you don’t. You can sleep in the barn. Breakfast is at six.”

“Fine.”

Cait grabbed her rifle, spun around, and marched back into the cabin. She paused in the doorway and called over her shoulder, “I’m a light sleeper and I keep the rifle next to the bed.” With that notsosubtle warning, Cait entered the cabin.

A light flickered and swelled from within, dappling pale light onto the porch. Win remained rooted in place, watching her shadowy figure against the thin curtains until a cool breeze smelling of rain blew across his face.

Win unwrapped his gelding’s reins and led his horse toward the barn. He paused by the corral where Deil stood motionless, neck arched imperiously as he stared down at Win.

“So, Deil, are you really the devil?” he asked, meeting the stallion’s haughty gaze.

The devil reared up on its hind legs and trumpeted a shrill whinny.

Win instinctively stepped back, even though Deil had no chance of touching him. The first raindrops began to patter against the hard ground, giving Win an excuse to retreat.

Deil would definitely be a challenge, but taming the stallion would be a cakewalk compared to trying to tame his mistress.

AFTERlighting the kerosene lamp, Cait lowered herself to the rocking chair, which had been her father’s favorite place in the evenings. Ever since his death, she’d felt comforted by the rhythmic motion of the chair. Sometimes she closed her eyes and remembered how she used to clamber into his lap when she was small and demand he tell her a story.

Sitting there now, Cait could almost hear the faint Scottish burr in his low, rumbly voice. A tear rolled down her cheek, surprising her. She didn’t think she had any left, but informing Win of her pa’s death brought back the razorsharp sorrow.

Ever since she’d walked into the telegraph office nine days ago to carry out her father’s last wish, she’d been preparing herself to see Win again. She thought she was ready; after all, ten years was nearly half a lifetime ago. However, the brittle reality of seeing him in the flesh released a flood of memories-some sad, some happy, but mostly painful.

For nearly ten years, she’d immersed herself in her and her father’s dream. Now twentyfive, Cait was a spinster, but she’d made that choice herself. Her father hadn’t understood, but he hadn’t pressed either. She was glad he hadn’t. How could she have told him how stupid and naïve she’d been? Not one to shirk responsibility even back then, Cait knew she was as much to blame for what happened that night as Win. But when Win had ridden away the next morning without even saying goodbye, Cait’s love for her longtime friend gradually turned to hatred.

Unable to remain sitting, Cait stood and paced the length of the tworoom cabin. She paused by a window and eased the curtain back to gaze at Deil. Her free hand clenched into a fist as the knot in her stomach tightened. If it were up to her, the stallion would’ve been put down on the day he murdered her pa.

Instead, Cait had been forced by her dying father to send for the man she despised to tame the horse she hated.

If it weren’t so tragic, Cait would’ve found the irony laughable.

Chapter Two

WIN CUPPED HIS hands and splashed nightcooled water from the tin pan across his face. He gasped, but repeated the action again and again, hoping to rid his mind of the cobwebs from a restless night. Using the bar of soap sitting on the porch bench beside the pan, Win washed and shaved.

He drew the straight razor across his whiskered cheek and jaw, then gave a wry chuckle at his reflection in the small square mirror. Of all that he’d inherited from his mother’s half Indian blood-high cheekbones, straight dark hair, and perpetually tanned complexion-he hadn’t inherited the lack of facial hair, which would’ve come in handy. Finishing the routine task, he rinsed with more cool water and plucked a rough towel off a wooden peg and wiped dry, then fingercombed his thick damp hair back from his forehead.

The front door opened and Cait stepped out into the dawn’s rosy glow.

“Mornin’,” he said.

“Morning,” she echoed, not meeting his gaze.

Win wasn’t surprised to see her in trousers again. The only time she’d worn a dress was that evening ten years ago. He could see the gown clearly in his mind-pale blue with white lace bordering the low neckline, accenting the soft swell of her breasts. She hadn’t resembled the girl he’d known for so many years, but had been transformed into a desirable woman who’d sparked his hot young blood. He’d never forgotten that dress or that night.

“Was the barn comfortable?” she asked.

Win blinked in surprise at her attempt at a civil conversation. “I’ve slept in worse.”

“At least it doesn’t leak.”

“Good thing, since it rained buckets last night.”

She nodded, a slight smile quirking her lips. “Breakfast is ready.”

He followed her into the cabin, enjoying the gentle sway of her backside and the long blond braid that fell to her waist. He recalled the smell of honeysuckle, and how her silky hair had slid across his chest and caressed his fingers.

He hung his hat on the rack by the door just as he’d done so often as a boy. A wave of nostalgia startled him. He’d been drifting for so long, he’d forgotten what it was like to think of some place as home.

He waited until Cait sat down before taking his chair, and hid a smile at her faint blush when she realized what he’d done.

“You don’t have to act so polite, Win. We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she said irritably.

He smiled, using the charm that had never failed him with the ladies. “But we aren’t kids anymore.”

She raised her deceptively dainty chin. “That’s right. I grew up fast, thanks to you.”

Win flinched at the bitterness in her tone. “Seems to me you weren’t complaining too much at the time.” In fact, they’d spent much of the night together and their youthful passions had kept them awake for most of it.

Cait’s cheeks reddened, but she didn’t argue. Instead, she picked up her fork and began to eat.

Win swallowed back a smile and dug into a hefty pile of fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, sausage, and biscuits and gravy. Cait rose halfway through the quiet meal to fill their cups with fresh coffee.

“Do you have any hired help, besides me?” Win asked after pushing aside his empty plate.

Cait shook her head as she idly traced the rim of her cup with a fingertip. “I haven’t had time to look for a hired hand since Pa died.” Abruptly, she stood and carried their plates to the tin wash pan.

“You’d best start looking. You can’t do everything that needs doing yourself.”

“I manage just fine.” If she were a cat, she would’ve arched her back and hissed.

Win leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave.”

She gripped the back of her chair and stared down at him. Her eyes blazed with stubborn pride. “This was our dream, me and Pa’s, and I’m not going to let it go now that it’s so close.”

There was nothing of the laughing, innocent girl Win had known in the plucky woman before him. “I’m not asking you to, just that you hire someone to give you a hand.”

“No. As long as you can tame Deil, I can take care of the mares and the foals they’ll soon drop.”

Win dragged a hand through his unruly hair. “Damn it, Cait, don’t be so stubborn. I couldn’t handle that many horses myself and I’m not afraid to admit it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I can, then, isn’t it?” She marched to the door. “Daylight’s wasting and I’ve got work to do.” Cait donned her widebrimmed hat and snugged the horsehair string beneath her chin. She strode out, leaving Win alone in the cabin.

He threw himself back in his chair and let loose a string of Cheyenne curses. What the hell had happened to the sweet girl he’d known? Granted, he’d taken her virginity and ridden out the next morning without so much as a goodbye, but dammit, he’d had his reasons. She’d had ten years to get over it, yet she clung to her resentment.

She was twentyfive now, an old maid, even though she hardly looked like some driedup spinster. Why hadn’t she married? Girls got over boys and moved on, but it seemed Cait hadn’t.

Why not?

He finished his coffee, hardly tasting the strong bitterness that he favored. After sliding his cup into the warm water, he donned his hat and followed in Cait’s wake.

He paused on the porch and noticed the barn door was open. He’d closed it behind him that morning. Knowing it was better to leave Cait alone until she got over her tantrum, Win strode toward the corral where Deil pawed at the ground. As he approached, the stallion tossed his head and snorted, and Win felt the familiar thrill of pitting himself against a strongwilled horse.

Win had been an itinerant bronc buster most of his life, following his father from one ranch to another after his ma died. They were normally paid five dollars a head for every horse they saddlebroke. But unlike some of their fellow busters, Win and his pa never used a whip or quirt on a horse. Neither of them could abide such cruelty to an animal.

Win’s mother’s people had taught Adam Taylor how to break horses their way. Combining the best methods of both the white and Cheyenne worlds, he and his son had established a reputation as busters who could saddlebreak a horse without destroying its spirit.

“How will you do it?”

Win whirled around, startled to see Cait standing beside him, her hands in her back trouser pockets. She was staring at Deil impassively.

Win forced himself to relax and leaned against the top corral pole. “Depends. Do you plan on riding him or will you just use him for breeding?”

Cait narrowed her eyes. “Both. I have to be able to trust him.”

“He’s a wild horse, Cait. You’ll never be able to totally trust him.”

“If I can’t trust him, I’ll put him down.”

Win scowled. “You don’t have to-”

She faced him squarely. “Yes, I do.”

“It’ll take some time.”

Cait’s attention returned to the stallion that stared at them with intelligent and cunning eyes. “Use whatever means you have to. I want him broke.”

“I won’t whip an animal,” Win stated, hoping that wasn’t what she meant.

“He’s an outlaw.” Cait clasped her hands and rested them atop the corral rail. Her knuckles were white. “But he’s the best chance for this ranch to succeed, so do what you have to in order to break him.”

“You’ve changed, Cait,” Win said softly after a few moments of stunned silence.

“What the hell did you expect?”

Win flinched inwardly at the unexpected cuss word and her venomous tone, but kept his voice even. “The Cait I knew used to cry over dead butterflies.”

“The Cait you knew is long gone.”

The statement was delivered in a flat monotone that both frustrated and angered Win. He’d ridden away to protect her, yet he was beginning to suspect he’d done the opposite.

“Are you going to forefoot him?” Cait asked, the anger replaced by bland curiosity.

Win eyed the spirited stallion, gauging how difficult it would be to lasso the animal’s two front legs. If he did, he’d have to take Deil down and tie his hind foot up as well. “Probably,” he finally replied. “If he’s as tough as you say, I’ll have to bust him, too. I’ll need your help if I do that.”

“Pa tried to do it himself.”

Win scowled. “That’s a good way to get hurt.”

“Or killed,” Cait murmured and turned toward the barn. “Let’s get started,” she said over her shoulder.

Puzzled by her words, Win retrieved his lariat from the barn, while Cait brought another out from the tack room.

She’d donned gloves and was checking the rope with the assurance of someone who’d done it numerous times.

Win had never known a woman bronc buster other than Cait. They’d both been taught by their fathers, with some of their training overlapping while Win and his father visited the Brices. Cait had forefooted her first mustang when she was thirteen years old. Win had been in the corral with her, ready to help if the horse needed to be taken down. He’d been impressed by her skill, but instead of praising her, he’d teased her.

“I’ll rope him,” Win said, unlooping his reata.

Cait stopped by the corral, her gaze never leaving the stallion. Her breath rasped in and out with rapid puffs.

“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned by her pallor.

“Fine.”

Although she sounded anything but fine, Win mentally shrugged and opened the post corral’s gate to slip inside. He latched the gate behind him when it was obvious she wasn’t going to follow. Instead, she climbed onto the corral’s top rail and sat there, her loop in hand and ready.

Deil pawed the ground, his hooves tossing dirt behind him. His nostrils flared widely and he snorted. Not once did the stallion take his eyes off Win, which sent a shiver of unease down the buster’s spine as he continued to hold the horse’s gaze. To look away would give Deil the victory, and Win had yet to be defeated by a wild horse. He increased the rope’s loop as he began to twirl it over his head.

Most horses fled when they saw the rope, and in a round enclosure, it was fairly easy to forefoot a running mustang. However, rather than flee, Deil reared up on his powerful hind legs, forcing Win to retreat, away from the flailing hooves.

“Look out,” Cait shouted, an oddly frantic note in her voice.

Win didn’t dare spare her a glance as Deil came down onto all fours, and instead of distancing himself from the man as most wild animals would do, the stallion charged. Instinctively, Win hit the ground and rolled toward the rail fence. Deil’s left hoof grazed Win’s forearm a moment before he cleared the pen and he gasped at the unexpected pain, sucking in a lungful of dirt and dust. Wracked by a coughing fit, Win curled up on the ground, cradling his injured arm against his belly.

Cait stumbled to her knees beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

The coughing eased and Win spat out gritty sand. He nodded with a jerky motion, still rattled by the close call. “Just bruised.”

He began to push himself to a sitting position, and Cait helped him with a steady pressure on his back.

“You’re bleeding,” Cait suddenly said. “Let me take a look.”

Win glanced down at his throbbing arm and blinked at the red stain across his sleeve. “It’s nothing.”

Cait glared at him. Knowing he wouldn’t win this argument, he carefully held out his arm and was relieved to find it didn’t feel broken. He’d earned enough broken bones through the years to know what it felt like. “I’ve been cut worse shaving.”

Cait rolled her eyes at the phrase they’d both heard for years. “You, Pa, and Uncle Adam-one of you could be dying, and it’d be, ‘I’ve been cut worse shaving.’ ”

Win grinned. “You’re one to talk. You said it yourself one time.”

“My one and only time.” Cait unbuttoned Win’s cuff and rolled up the bloody sleeve. Her fingertips brushed his skin, leaving pockets of warmth, and she leaned so close that her flowery soap scent rose above the sour scent of sweat and fear. “When Pa told me I’d never have to shave, I cried.”

Win remembered the scene vividly. “You cried more over that than your broken collarbone.”

Cait huffed a soft laugh. “I don’t think Pa knew what to do with me.”

“Good thing I was around.”

Cait lifted her head and her eyes were almost warm. “I guess it was.” Her attention returned to his injury and her tone turned businesslike. “Let’s go to the porch and I’ll clean this up and bandage it for you.”

Although Win figured a tied bandanna around the wound would suffice, he didn’t argue. He didn’t want to disturb the fragile harmony between them.

Leaning on her more than necessary, Win relished the feel of her arm around his waist and her unique scent that reminded him of a field of wildflowers. He’d doubted he’d ever touch her again, even in friendship, after her chilly reception last evening. Exaggerating the seriousness of a minor wound was a small sin to have her so close.

She settled him on the rickety rocker on the porch and he wished he dared pull her onto his lap. As children they argued over who would get the rocker. Sometimes they decided by playing a marble game where they would take turns trying to hit each other’s marble with their own. The first to miss lost. But more often than not, they ended up scrunching together on the chair.

“Do you still have your topaz cat’seye?” Win asked curiously.

Cait paused before entering the cabin and studied him blankly, then comprehension filled her face. She dug into her pocket, drew her fist out, and opened her hand. In the center of her palm lay a golden brown marble. She shrugged and shoved it back into her pocket. “It got to be habit carrying it around.”

Amazed that she still had it, much less kept it with her all the time, Win realized maybe his Cait wasn’t long gone. That maybe the spirited but gentlehearted Cait he’d known most of his life was hiding behind this woman’s cool reserve.

“Do you still have yours?” she asked, still standing in the doorway and gazing at him intently.

For a moment, Win would’ve traded everything to have his lucky marble in his pocket, but he’d lost it long ago. “No.”

Disappointment flickered across her face, but all she said was “Oh.” Then she went into the cabin without another glance.

Chapter Three

ONCE INSIDE THE cabin, Cait leaned against the door and forced herself to breathe deeply. Between Win’s close encounter with Deil and the unearthing of longago feelings, she felt shaky and uncertain. Her heart gradually slowed its rapid gallop.

Memories she shared with Win unsettled her, and they jumbled with images of Deil trampling her father. She recalled with horrifying clarity the moment she believed Win would be struck down in the same manner as her father. Terror and helplessness slashed through her, leaving her weak and nauseous. If Deil had killed Win, too…

In two long strides, she crossed the room and seized the cool metal rifle in her trembling hands. Damn her father’s last words-a man’s life was worth far more than a broken promise.

She jerked open the cabin door and stormed out. Win glanced up from the rocking chair, his injured arm resting in his lap. “Cait?”

She ignored him, intent on her mission. Reaching the corral that held Deil, she lifted the rifle stock to her shoulder and sighted down the barrel at the center of the stallion’s forehead.

“What the hell are you doing?” Win demanded.

His appearance so close startled her, ruining her perfect aim. “Stay back.” She hardly recognized the growl as her voice.

Deil stared at her, motionless, his head held high as if daring her to squeeze the trigger. Cait was more than ready to take that dare.

Suddenly, Win jerked the rifle from her grip and she made a wild grab for it. Stepping back, he kept it out of her reach.

“Give it back!”

“Not until you tell me why you were going to shoot him.”

She made a final attempt to retrieve the weapon, but Win evaded her again. Fury thrummed through her as she breathed heavily. “He’s a killer!”

“I’m not dead.” Impatience made Win’s words curt.

“Pa is!” The truth burst out before she could stop herself. “Deil attacked Pa, trampled him. I dragged him out of the corral before Deil could finish him, but he’d been hurt so badly…so badly.” Her breath hitched and she dropped her chin to her chest, unable to bear the sympathy in Win’s eyes.

“The doc did what he could but Pa was bleeding inside and it was only a matter of time. I was going to put down the stallion then, but Pa wouldn’t let me. He said-” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat noisily. “He said Deil was my only hope of holding on to the ranch. He made me promise to send for you to tame Deil.” She finally lifted her chin and met his stunned gaze. “And now Deil almost killed you. He is the devil. He has to be put down before he kills anyone else.”

Win’s jaw muscle flexed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cait turned away, incapable of facing him as she spoke the words that condemned her. “I was the one who talked Pa into going after the wild horses. I was the one hellbent on capturing Deil. I was the one who insisted on taming the stallion. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, Pa would still be alive.”

She felt his solid presence at her back. “If your pa didn’t want to go after them, he wouldn’t have. And if he thought Deil couldn’t be tamed, he wouldn’t have tried.”

Cait whirled around to find his face inches from hers. “We shouldn’t have tried, but we did, and now he’s dead.” She glared over his shoulder at the stallion. “And he’s still alive.”

Deil tossed his head and pranced around the corral, muscles rippling beneath his shiny black coat. As much as Cait loathed him, she admired him just as passionately. He was the most magnificent stallion she’d ever seen. How could such a beautiful creature be so evil?

“I wish you would’ve told me this before I started,” Win said wearily, rubbing his brow.

She pursed her lips, unwilling to confess that she’d been shamed by her guilt.

“Very few horses are actually killers,” Win continued, eyeing the stallion. “Even though he trampled your father, I don’t believe Deil is a killer. I’m just going to have to take things slower.”

“You’re crazy.” How could he continue to work with Deil now that he knew the horse’s true nature? “He nearly trampled you, too.”

“I got cocky,” Win admitted. “I figured he was just like all the others. Now I know better. I’ll be more careful. Besides, your pa thought I could break him.”

“Pa was out of his head with pain and fever.”

“Then why did you send me that telegram?”

Cait’s mouth lost all moisture. “I made a promise.”

“And I’m going to keep my end of that promise.” Win glanced at the rifle, then held it out to her. “Can I trust you not to do anything foolish?”

Cait’s desire to shoot the stallion had faded along with her rage and she took the weapon from his hand with a small nod. Her gaze fell to the drying blood on his forearm. “That wound needs to be tended.”

“I’ll take care of it. It’s just a cut.” He smiled and cupped her cheek, brushing her skin with his callused thumb. “Honest.”

Cait studied his hazel eyes, seeing an echo of the sincerity and tenderness that had been there so many years ago. She nodded, afraid if she touched him-even to treat a wound-she’d be forced to confront feelings she’d laid to rest a long time ago. “I have to clean out the barn, then I plan to work with the mustangs.”

“Deil’s mine,” Win said firmly.

“All right.” Cait swallowed her apprehension and stated her conditions. “But if he attacks you again, I won’t be stopped a second time.”

Win nodded somberly. “Fair enough. But I don’t plan on giving Deil another chance to get that close.”

“Pa didn’t either.”

“I’m not your pa.”

Cait recognized the stubbornness in Win’s eyes and knew there’d be no way to talk him out of working with the killer stallion. She only hoped her pa had been right in placing his faith in him.

Because she’d lost her faith in Win a long time ago.

CAIT concentrated on threading the leather traces through the worn harness. Ever since her father’s death, she’d let things go around the ranch, including cleaning and repairing the tack, which had been his job since he had been more patient and skilled. However, she couldn’t tempt fate any longer. Shabby equipment led to serious injuries, sometimes death, if it broke at an inopportune moment. Cait understood the necessity but that didn’t mean she liked the task.

A sweat droplet trailed down her cheek and, using the back of her wrist, she swiped away the irritation and stifled a hiss of pain. She’d started working with the wild mares again two days ago, after Win’s close brush with Deil, and had earned muscle aches and bruises for her labor.

Although she’d told Win she could handle the work, she was beginning to wonder if she really could keep up with the chores. There were a dozen wild mares, two of which were heavy with foals and three that had already foaled in the last month that had yet to be handled. The eight she’d managed to set a saddle on still had hours of training before she’d be able to sell them.

Glancing up from her task, she spotted Win through the crack in the barn doors. She could see him in profile and his lips were moving, but she couldn’t hear his voice. He was probably talking to Deil again.

Ever since Deil had nearly trampled him, Win had done nothing but remain in the stallion’s presence. Sometimes he sat on the top rail; other times he rested his crossed arms on the rail and leaned into it. And every time she’d walked by the corral, Cait could hear Win talking to Deil in his soothing timbre. She usually hurried past, hating how her body responded to the seductive resonance of his low voice.

That hypnotic voice was what made him so different from other bronc busters. He didn’t just slap a blanket and saddle on a horse, then jump on and claw leather. Nor did he whip the animal until it flinched like a beaten dog every time a person came near. No, Win first gained the horses’s trust, ensuring the spirit remained and only its body was tamed.

He’d worked the same magic on her, and his presence here now was a constant reminder of her naiveté and lost innocence. When he’d gone, he’d left a fifteenyearold to face the consequences of their actions alone. She could never forgive him for that.

Suddenly feeling tetchy, Cait laid aside the harness and stood, stretching her back and shoulders. The popping joints sounded ominously loud in the barn’s silence. She strode outside, determined not to look in Win’s direction. However, her traitorous gaze defied her intentions and fastened onto his denimclad backside, framed by brown formfitting chaps. A plaid shirt spanned his broad shoulders and was tucked into his narrow waist. His body had filled out in the intervening years, transforming a wiry boy’s body into a man’s lean, rockhard one.

Cait never could recall the moment when she’d stopped thinking of Win as a bothersome big brother to deciding he was the handsomest boy she’d ever seen. She remembered how she’d sought his attention, showing off her roping and riding abilities, but he’d only teased her. He’d finally noticed her when she donned one of her ma’s dresses she’d found in an old steamer trunk.

“Where are you going, Cait?”

She blinked the memories aside and focused on Win, who’d turned to face her. Where was she going? “I thought I’d get lunch started.”

Win squinted up at the sun. “It’s only midmorning.”

Was it that early?

“I’m hungry.”

He chuckled and his eyes twinkled, as if knowing exactly what had been on her mind. Although he’d been able to read her like a wellworn book years ago, she hoped she wasn’t as transparent anymore.

Deil’s whinny startled her, and Cait turned to see a rattletrap buckboard rolling into the yard. A familiar frumpy figure hauled back on the reins, and Cait smiled warmly at the old woman.

“Whoa, you worthless sack of spit,” the woman cussed at her swaybacked mule.

“Good morning to you, too, Beulah.” Cait grinned as she strolled toward the wagon.

Beulah Grisman shook a gnarled finger down at her. “Don’t you be sassin’ your elders, young lady.”

Beulah slapped at her patched and faded skirt, and sent a small column of dust rising from her lap, inciting a raspy cough. She waved a blueveined hand in front of her face, and her fit subsided. She adjusted her floppy hat, held by a scarf tied beneath her chin, then glanced around and spotted Win approaching from the corral.

Beulah grabbed the doublebarreled shotgun in the wagon’s box and aimed it at Win before Cait could explain his presence. “Who’s this varmint?” the old woman demanded.

Although the shotgun barrel didn’t waver, Win didn’t seem to notice. He swept off his hat and met Beulah’s suspicious gaze. “Win Taylor, ma’am.”

Beulah’s lips pursed and her eyebrows beetled. “This Injun a friend of yours, Cait?”

Cait’s mouth gaped. Although she knew Win was part Indian, she’d known him for so long that she didn’t even notice the characteristics he’d inherited from his mother’s halfCheyenne side. It was just part of who he was. But the way Beulah said Injun told Cait the older woman didn’t see Win the same way. “He’s the one Pa said could gentle Deil,” she replied, then added firmly, “He’s only a quarter Indian.”

From her lofty perch on the buckboard, Beulah spat a stream of tobacco toward Win, narrowly missing his boot. “Ain’t nobody, not even someone like him, can break that stallion.”

“I’m betting I can,” Win said. “My pa was the best and he taught me all he knew.”

“He’s right,” Cait said. Although she didn’t owe Win anything, past loyalties were hard to break.

The whitehaired woman studied Win from head to toe, then lowered her shotgun. “He’s got nice teeth, I’ll give him that, and he ain’t too hard on the eyes neither.”

Cait had to admit Beulah was right on both counts.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Win said drolly.

“But that don’t mean I trust you. My ma always said you can trust a purty man as far as you can trust a sidewindin’ rattlesnake.” Beulah continued to eye Win suspiciously.

His eyes twinkled with amusement.

“What’re you doing here, Beulah?” Cait asked, hoping to sidetrack her.

Beulah raised her eyebrows. “We was goin’ into town to pick up supplies, remember?”

Since Cait lived along the route Beulah took into town, they often went in together. “I’m sorry. I forgot today was town day. Why don’t you come in for some coffee while I clean up?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” The older woman stood and gripped the edge of the seat to climb down from the wagon.

“Let me help, ma’am.” Win took hold of Beulah’s elbow.

“I’m old, not crippled,” Beulah muttered, but accepted Win’s help.

Accustomed to Beulah’s cussed independence, Cait was surprised she didn’t shake off Win’s hand. Although Beulah had to be seventy years old or more, her spryness belied her age. Cait had always taken for granted that Beulah would never change, but the years weren’t slowing down for either of them.

“Thanks,” Beulah said grudgingly.

He merely touched the brim of his hat, then turned to Cait. “I’m going back to work with Deil.”

“Be careful.” The words were out before Cait could stop her tongue.

Win smiled warmly and creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

He sauntered toward the corral, and Cait couldn’t help but admire his animallike grace.

“Pull them calf eyes back into your head, girl,” Beulah scolded.

Cait’s cheeks heated with embarrassment, although her body’s uncomfortable warmth was triggered by something she thought she’d never feel again. Especially for him. “He’s an old friend of Pa’s,” she murmured.

Beulah cackled with laughter. “Iffen you think he’s old, you’d best get some spectacles, girl.” She sobered and wistfulness eased the weathered lines in her face. “My husband was as handsome as the day was long, too, but he didn’t have no backbone like that Taylor feller.”

They entered the cabin and Cait poured Beulah a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove. Beulah had never talked about a husband, so Cait was fascinated by the glimpse into her friend’s past.

“What happened to him?”

Beulah shrugged. “Got up one morning and he was gone. Skedaddled like some skunk in a chicken coop. Left me alone, without even a young’un.”

No wonder Beulah had understood all those years ago-she’d been left high and dry by a man, too.

“You gonna flap your mouth all morning or you gonna change so we can get goin’ before the sun gets too hot?” Beulah’s characteristic grumpiness returned.

Cait entered the only other room of the cabin and quickly slipped off her everyday shirt, replacing it with a clean blue gingham one. As she buttoned it, she wondered what Beulah would do if she discovered Win was the one who’d driven Cait to accept Beulah’s help all those years ago. Beulah would more than likely give him a piece of her mind, and maybe some buckshot in that finelooking ass. While tucking in her shirttails, Cait laughed silently at the image that thought conjured. Win deserved that and more for what he’d done to her. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if… She curved her arms around her waist as the humor faded.

Cait glanced up and caught sight of herself in the rectangular mirror hung on a nail on the wall. Dark smudges beneath her eyes made her appear haggard. She’d long ago given up on trying to gain the attention of a man, yet the thought of Win seeing her look so worn out made her wonder if he was now glad he’d ridden away that spring morning so long ago.

Loneliness-a constant companion since her father died and, if she was honest with herself, for years previous- ached like a sore tooth. She’d lost her best friend as well as her first lover when Win had left her. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the physical loving, but the companionship she’d missed the most. Not that she didn’t have a woman’s needs, but she could deal better with those than the loss of Win’s friendship. How could she not hate the person who’d made her suffer through hell alone?

“The past is gone. You’ve made your bed and now you have to lie in it,” she said to her reflection. She reached out to touch the mirror’s surface. “Even if it’s a cold, lonely one.”

“What’re you doin’-dressin’ for a ball?” Beulah asked from the other room.

“I’ll be ready in a minute.”

After a careless sweep of her hairbrush, Cait joined Beulah.

“In all the years I knowed you, I never seen you gussy up for a feller,” Beulah commented with a knowing smirk.

Heat filled Cait’s cheeks. Beulah was right. If Win hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have changed just to ride into town to buy supplies. People were accustomed to her unfeminine clothing and wouldn’t have looked twice.

“My shirt was dirty,” Cait said, not meeting Beulah’s gaze.

Beulah’s snort echoed in the cabin as Cait grabbed her shopping list.

Outside, Cait found Win standing inside a corner of the corral. It was the first time there was no barrier between Win and Deil since the stallion had tried to kill him. Her heart collided with her throat. “Get out of there,” she whispered hoarsely.

Beulah wrapped her bony fingers around Cait’s elbow. “He ain’t your pa,” the older woman said in a low voice.

“No, but Deil’s already tried to kill him once.”

“I’ve heard tell of Injuns who can talk to horses. That Taylor looks like he may be one of ’em.”

“Maybe, but I’m not leaving while he’s in the corral with that devil.” Cait crossed to the pen and stood there, the block of fear growing in her throat. She forced herself to watch Win, and thought Beulah might be right. Deil’s ears were pricked forward, as if listening intently to Win’s voice, and there didn’t seem to be any murderous intent in the stallion’s stance. Could those previous days when Win had talked until he lost his voice finally be making an impression on the stallion?

Win, keeping close to the rails, neared Cait. “I thought you were going into town.”

“Not while you’re in there with him.”

Win shot her an annoyed glance. “I’ll be fine.”

His words chilled her to the bone-those were the exact ones her father had used. She folded her arms over her chest to hide her trembling hands. She didn’t plan on moving until Win came to his senses.

He muttered an oath and ducked between two rails to join her. “I’m out.”

Relief made Cait lightheaded. “And you won’t go in there again until I get back?”

Win’s eyes were shaded by his hat brim, but she could feel his exasperation. “If it’ll make you feel better.”

She swallowed her abating terror. “It will.”

Cait turned and clambered aboard Beulah’s wagon. The older woman took up the reins, and as they drove past the corral, Win gave them a barely perceptible nod.

“He won’t do anything foolhardy,” Beulah reassured her once they were clattering down the road, away from the corral, the stallion, and Win.

“I hope not.” Cait sighed, releasing some of the tension that bunched her shoulders. “Seeing him in there, where I found Pa…”

“Your pa was too old to be breakin’ mustangs,” Beulah said in her nononsense tone. “He tol’ me so himself ’bout four months back.”

“He never told me.”

“He didn’t want you worryin’. You know how he was, always wantin’ to protect you.”

Cait threaded her fingers together and squeezed tightly. “I know and I hated that he treated me like a child. If he’d worried more about himself, maybe he’d still be alive.”

Beulah slapped the leather lightly against the mule’s rear end, urging it into more than a plodding walk. “He knew somethin’ was wrong with you, too, but he never pushed. But I think it hurt him to know you was hidin’ something from him.”

Cait stared off to the side, barely noticing the summer green or the colorful spill of wildflowers around them. “I couldn’t tell him. It would’ve killed him.”

“You was the one who damned near died back then.”

Cait smiled bitterly. “I made the mistake. It was my price to pay.”

“Lots of girls make mistakes.”

Cait turned to the only person in the world who knew what had been stolen from her, although Beulah didn’t know the identity of the thief. “Pa wouldn’t have understood.”

Beulah sent her a sidelong glance, but didn’t comment. The remainder of the trip into town was thankfully silent.

Chapter Four

WHEN CAIT AND Beulah returned from town with their wagonload of supplies, Deil was alone in the corral, and there was no sign of Win. His horse, however, was in the other pen along with Cait’s own saddle mount, so Win hadn’t gone far.

Beulah halted the wagon in front of the house and Cait hopped down to unload the dry goods onto the porch. She’d carry them inside later, after lugging the sacks of grain into the barn. Cait walked ahead of the wagon, while Beulah drove the mule. She reached out to open the wide barn door, but jumped back when it was pushed out from the inside.

Wiping his damp torso with a towel, Win smiled at her. “I thought I heard someone drive in.”

Frozen, Cait stared at him, her gaze following a single water droplet that rolled down the middle of his smooth, glistening chest. Muscles flowed beneath the bronzetanned skin, tantalizing her and giving her an odd fluttery feeling deep in her belly.

“Cait, the man’s askin’ you a question.”

Cait dragged her gaze away from the tempting expanse of skin and sinew. “Uh, what?”

“Do you want some help?” Win asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“I can do it,” she snapped. “Besides, you’ve got a hurt arm.”

He held out his injured arm, which no longer had a bandage wrapped around it. “Good as new.”

The gash had closed, and a faded blue, purple, and yellow bruise surrounded the scab. The wound wouldn’t be bothered by carrying a sack or two of grain, but she didn’t want him near, especially after she’d made such a fool of herself staring at his bare chest. As if she’d never seen a chest before. Hell, she’d seen her pa’s chest hundreds of times while he’d washed up on the porch. One man’s chest was just like another.

Liar.

“No, I-” Cait began.

“Let ’im help, girl,” Beulah interrupted in exasperation. “It ’pears he’s used to heavy liftin’.”

Not appreciating Beulah’s interference or her deliberate look at Win’s muscled arms and torso, Cait pretended not to hear. She reached for a sack of oats from the wagon bed.

Big, workroughened hands brushed hers. “I’ll take that,” Win said.

For a moment, Cait wasn’t going to release it, but her common sense overcame her stubborn pride. She allowed him to take the bag, then reached for the next one.

Carrying the fortypound sack, Cait entered the welllit barn and fought to keep her attention from straying to Win’s broad, naked back and shoulders. But his body lured her, just as it had so long ago.

“Why didn’t you let me get that?” Win asked with a scowl.

“I’ve been doing it for years.” She dropped it onto the sack Win had just laid down.

“Why?”

Startled by the question, Cait stared at him through the barn’s shadows. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Your pa-”

“Was getting old. He couldn’t do it all himself.”

“He should’ve hired some help.”

“How? We were barely scraping by before he died. Capturing the wild herd was going to take care of all our problems. Now my only chance is that stallion.” Cait had leaned closer and closer to Win, until her nose was almost touching his chin. His scent-musky sweat and maleness-suddenly filled her, making her heart pound and her palms dampen.

“And you need me to tame that stallion.”

His matteroffact words and warm breath fanning across her cheek made Cait reel back. “Yes, dammit. I need you. Does that make you feel better, to hear me admit it?” Despite her anger, her voice was subdued.

He stared at her, his eyes softening with regret and apology. “I’m sorry, Cait.”

They both knew he wasn’t only apologizing for his blunt remark. Cait’s insides clenched and she felt the humiliating sting of tears but fought them back. She lifted her chin. “Don’t be. I wanted to find out what it was like and you obliged me. I’m glad you left. It would’ve been uncomfortable with you hanging around like a lost puppy.”

Win’s nostrils flared and his lips became a grim line. “So it didn’t mean anything to you?”

Cait shrugged, while her insides cramped with agony. “It meant as much to me as it did to you, which obviously was nothing.”

Win’s eyes blazed and he grabbed Cait’s shoulders, yanking her against him. Cait felt her breasts crushed to his bare chest and her nipples hardened. He swooped down and kissed her, his lips at first unyielding, then moving like a summer breeze across a smooth pond.

He teased her lips open and swept his tongue into her mouth. Her hands, trapped between their bodies, flattened against his bare, silkysmooth chest. She could feel his heart thundering against her palms and her fingertips pressed into his warm skin. Cait groaned and surrendered, brushing her tongue against his and savoring his unique, masculine taste.

Suddenly, he thrust her back. “I wouldn’t call that ‘nothing.’ ”

Hot shame poured through her veins. She’d hated him for ten years. How could one kiss make her forget so easily?

“What’re you two doin’ in there?” Beulah called from outside the barn.

“Nothing,” Cait hollered back immediately, then realized she’d echoed Win’s word.

Her face heated, she stalked out of the barn. Beulah had jumped down from the buckboard and was attempting to lift a sack of grain. As Cait approached her, a coughing fit stopped the older woman and she grabbed a crumpled hanky from her sleeve and held it against her mouth and nose.

“It sounds like you’re getting croupy,” Cait said in concern. “Would you like to come into the house for some tea?”

Beulah shook her head. “I’d best get going.” Her voice was muffled by the handkerchief she held to her face.

There were only two sacks left in the wagon, and Cait tossed one over her shoulder. Win, who must’ve come out of the barn soon after she had, grabbed the other one. Cait ignored him as she carried the grain sack into the barn. She hurriedly dropped it beside the other two and rejoined Beulah, who was stuffing her handkerchief back up her sleeve with trembling hands.

“I can saddle Pepper and ride back to your place with you,” Cait offered.

Beulah snorted. “Why in the world you wanna do that, girl? There ain’t nothin’ wrong with me but some dust gettin’ up my nose.” Shaking her head and muttering, the cantankerous woman climbed into the buckboard. She picked up the reins and eyed Cait closely. “Now, you best behave yourself, girl. I got to run back into town in a few days so I’ll stop by to see how you and Taylor’s doin’.” Beulah raised her head and gave Win, who lounged against the barn door, a warning look.

“I’ll be good,” Win said with a wink.

Beulah leaned down toward Cait and said in a loud whisper, “Don’t you let him be talkin’ you into anythin’ you don’t want.”

Surprised by the oddly phrased warning, Cait only nodded.

Without so much as a wave, Beulah hiyahed her patient mule into a lazy walk. Cait, feeling a frisson of worry for her friend, watched until the buckboard disappeared from view.

Win, buttoning his shirt, joined her. “Now I remember her. She’s that crazy lady from down near Otters Gulch.”

As children, Cait and Win had only known Beulah as that crazy lady from Otters Gulch. It wasn’t until after Win had disappeared that Cait had come to know Beulah Grisman as an eccentric, independent woman with a heart the size of a saddle blanket.

“That’s what we used to call her,” Cait admitted, then added, “She may be a little strange, but she’s not crazy. We became friends after you left.”

Win’s brows furrowed, probably wondering how they came to know each other, but Cait wasn’t about to enlighten him. That chapter of her life was closed.

Cait knew she should shelve the box of goods she’d picked up at the mercantile, but standing in the shade with Win was oddly comforting in spite of the shocking kiss they’d shared earlier.

“How is Deil coming along?” she asked.

Win slid his thumbs into his front pants pockets and stood hipshot, with one knee bent. “I’m going to try to forefoot him again tomorrow morning.” He paused and his gaze felt like a caress, sending a shiver down her spine. “I could use your help.”

Cait’s muscles tightened, hoping she had the strength to face the demon again. “I’ll be here.”

With the predatory grace of a wolf, Win stepped in front of her. “Can I count on you?”

Her heartbeat climbed a notch or two, but she met his intense gaze squarely. “Seems to me I should be asking you that question. I wasn’t the one who ran off like some horse thief in the night.”

“I guess I deserved that.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I had my reasons, Cait.”

“You could at least tell me what they were.”

He tipped his head back and stared at the hot blue sky. “It was nothing you did, Cait.” He chuckled softly. “You did everything right. Too damned right.” Win’s steady gaze settled on her. “You were so young. Hell, we were both kids. But I was older and knew better. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

Even after all the heartache he’d caused her, she believed his remorse. He was older than her and had often taken the blame for the mischief they’d gotten into together. She laid her hand on his forearm. The light hairs tickled her palm and his skin’s warmth brought a burst of heat with it. “What happened that night was as much my fault as yours, maybe even more so. I was the one who had to tempt you with that stupid dress.”

“It wasn’t a stupid dress, and it sure as hell more than tempted me.” He chuckled, and creases appeared at the corners of his eyes. “Where did you get it?”

Cait stared at his laugh lines, suddenly faced with the tangible evidence that they were no longer fifteen and seventeen. They’d both grown up, but scars remained.

“It was in my mother’s trunk. Pa never could throw any of her things away.” Cait remembered the one and only time he’d tried to sort through her mother’s belongings. After opening the trunk, he’d quickly closed it and hurried outside. Cait had followed him and stood in the doorway, shocked to hear her big, strong father sobbing in the deepest shadows of the porch.

“Do you still have it?”

Win’s question startled Cait out of the past. “Yes, but that was the only time I wore it.”

“I figured you’d wear it to the town dances and all the boys would line up to dance with you.”

Cait peered into Win’s face, trying to determine if he was teasing or serious. “I never went to any dances.”

“Why?” Win asked, genuinely puzzled.

She shrugged. “I didn’t plan on marrying, so it didn’t make any sense to go.”

“Why?” he repeated.

Becoming annoyed, Cait snapped, “Because.”

Win held up his hands, palms out. “Whoa. Don’t be getting all riled up again. I didn’t mean anything. I’m just trying to figure out why someone as beautiful as you isn’t married yet.”

Beautiful. Cait would’ve given the moon to hear him call her beautiful years ago, but now it brought a strange lump to her throat. She forced a nonchalant shrug. “The ranch kept me so busy I never had time to think about it.” She glanced at the angle of the sun. “I’d best make us something to eat. It’s long past noon.”

She felt Win’s burning gaze on her back as she walked to the cabin, but there was nothing more she owed him. She picked up the box containing flour, sugar, and coffee she’d left on the porch and carried it inside.

As she put away the goods, she allowed her memories free rein. She remembered how she’d had to lie to her father for the first time in her life to hide her humiliation. How she’d cried every night for nearly a year before the pain became tolerable. How the love she’d had for Win had burned away, leaving ashes of hate.

But their kiss in the barn showed that beneath the hate, love’s embers still smoldered.

Cait couldn’t afford to fan those embers back to life. Even if Win still held some affection for her, he would undoubtedly ride away again. And this time, even the embers would become extinguished, leaving nothing but the empty shell of a bitter woman with no hope of a family.

Chapter Five

FOUR NIGHTS LATER, Cait bolted upright in bed. She sat there in the darkness, disoriented, trying to determine what had awakened her. A horse’s scream split the night’s silence and Cait scrambled out from under the muslin sheet and wool blanket. She jerked on her boots and trousers, but didn’t take the time to don a shirt over her gown.

She grabbed the rifle propped beside the bed and dashed out of the cabin. Pausing on the porch, she searched for Deil in his pen and found him looking toward the trees. The shrill cry sounded again. It came from the mares’ corral, the direction Deil faced.

Cait bounded across the moonlit yard, almost colliding with Win when he hopped out of the barn, tugging on a boot.

“What is it?” he demanded.

Cait slowed her pace slightly to answer. “Something’s spooked the mares.” She turned and ran, her heart thrumming wildly.

Cait was barely aware of Win following her, his long legs devouring the distance between them. She angled through the trees, not wasting time by going through the wide opening she normally used. Branches slapped her face and arms.

She stumbled to a halt at the edge of the clearing. Before her lay a network of three corrals that Win and his father had helped build. The first pen housed three mares and their foals. The biggest corral held the rest of the wild horses, and the smallest enclosure was where Cait worked with one mustang at a time. The herd milled about nervously, nickering and kicking at one another. Something had obviously frightened them.

“Do you have trouble with cats around here?” Win’s close voice startled her.

“Not lately,” she replied. “A few years ago two came down from the mountains, but that had been a bad winter. The Duncans and Crowleys lost a few head of livestock, but the mountain lions never came this far south.”

Win grunted and she glanced at him. He was surveying the area, his eyes narrowed and body tense. She noticed he wore his gunbelt around his trim hips, obviously expecting trouble, too.

“What is it?” she asked quietly.

He took a deep breath and his nostrils flared, as if sniffing the air, searching for something that didn’t belong. Instead of answering her, he prowled around the corral, his gaze aimed at the ground.

Cait remained in place, narrowing her eyes as she watched him through the silvery glow of the nearly full moon. He circled the outer perimeter of the pen, his fluid motions and cautious steps giving her an even more powerful impression of a stalking wolf.

He hunkered down, examining something on the ground. “Come here,” he called to Cait.

She hurried over to his side and leaned over him. “What is it?”

Win pointed to a barely discernible indentation in the loose dirt. “It was a mountain lion. Only one, but enough to get the horses riled up,” he announced grimly.

An icy chill swept through Cait and she glanced around nervously, her mind conjuring wild cats out of fuzzy shadows. “But they never come this close to humans unless they’re starving. After the mild winter, they shouldn’t have any trouble finding food.”

Win shrugged. “Maybe it’s a rogue. I’ve heard tell of mountain lions coming into ranch yards and taking a dog or foal.”

Cait’s grip on the rifle tightened. She couldn’t afford to lose a single horse.

“He’s long gone,” Win said quietly. “At least he’s still afraid of people.”

“What about the horses?”

“They warned you this time. They’ll do it again.”

“But what-”

Her question was interrupted by a mare’s distressed whinny. With her eyes adjusted to the moonlight, Cait spotted the horse immediately and recognized the mare as one whose milk had dropped into her teats only two days earlier. Usually that meant a foal would be born about six days later, but it appeared this mare was going into labor early.

“She’s ready to foal,” she said tersely.

Win nodded. “The scare probably triggered it.”

Cait’s gaze remained on the restless mare that pawed at the ground in between pacing a small area of the corral. “I need to get her moved into the smaller pen so the others don’t bother her. I’ll get my horse.”

“I’ll help,” Win offered.

“You can do that by keeping an eye on her, then opening the gates for me.”

For a moment, Cait thought he’d argue, but Win nodded shortly.

She ran back to the barn and caught Pepper, her pinto mare. Pepper snapped at her, obviously not liking to be bothered in the middle of the night. Cait slapped the mare’s nose lightly. “Behave yourself.”

Pepper curled back her lips, but didn’t try any more tricks.

It took only a few minutes to ready her, and Cait vaulted into the saddle. As she rode out of the yard, Deil neighed piercingly and reared up on his hind legs, probably upset that he was being left behind.

Two minutes later, Cait drew Pepper to a halt by the wild horses’ corral.

Win stood by the gate, his hand on the latch. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

Win pressed back the bolt and opened the gate just far enough that Cait and Pepper could ride through. He secured the gate behind them.

Cait picked out the foaling mare and used her knees to guide Pepper closer to her. The expectant mare snorted and pranced nervously. “Easy, girl,” Cait crooned.

The wild horses separated into two groups as Cait drew near, allowing her a path to ride through. The mare tried to follow one of the clusters, but a shift of Pepper’s reins and the welltrained pinto cut the mare off from the others. Cait gave Pepper her head and leaned into the sharp turns as the pinto herded the sweating mare toward the gate leading into the smaller pen. Just as Cait was about to yell at Win to open up, the gate swung outward and the foaling mare ran through it. Cait and Pepper followed, then Win latched the gate.

In a corner of the smallest pen, the mare trembled visibly and her flanks were sweatsoaked. Concerned, Cait dismounted, intent on examining her.

“She’s all right,” Win called out in a low voice. “Leave her be.”

“I want to see if she’ll let me near her in case she has problems,” Cait said impatiently.

“You’ll only upset her more. Get out of there.”

Cait wavered between her instincts and Win’s order, a rebellious part of her eager to disobey Win, even if he was right. Finally, Cait relented and led Pepper out of the enclosure. With Pepper’s reins wrapped around her hand, Cait stopped beside Win.

“We should go back to the house,” Win said, his gaze moving from her face down to her breasts and quickly back up. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Most horses don’t like an audience when they foal. Wild ones are even more that way.”

“What if she has trouble? What if the foal is turned? What if she’s too tired to push?”

Impatience flickered in his face. “She’s more likely to have trouble if she’s nervous, and with us around she’s going to be twitchier than a spinster on her wedding night.” Again, his attention fell to her chest.

Cait pressed her lips together, irritated that his eyes kept dropping below her neck. She finally glanced down, and saw that her thin gown was pressed against her bosom and the cool air had made her nipples harden. It was obvious she wore nothing beneath the gauzy material. Fighting her instinct to cross her arms over her breasts, she tried not to wonder what Win might be thinking. But the more she tried, the more she couldn’t help but imagine what was racing through his mind. Probably the same thing she was thinking when she stared at his bare chest the other day.

Stop thinking!

Shoving the wanton thoughts aside, she forced herself to concentrate on the mare. She didn’t like leaving her, but Win had a point. Her father had said the same thing. Horses been havin’ babies a long time afore people was around to getintheway.

“I’ll go, but I’m going to come back and check on her every fifteen minutes,” Cait said.

Win shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“I will.”

He chuckled, which only made Cait more annoyed. Maybe she was being overprotective, but she had a big stake in ensuring each and every foal survived. She couldn’t let her pa’s sacrifice be in vain.

Leading Pepper, Cait walked to the yard beside Win, much too conscious of her unbound breasts and the sensuous feel of the cool air against them. Delicious shivers streaked through her, and they intensified when she caught Win glancing at her. A devilish imp made her bump into him and her breast nudged his arm. He jerked away, as if a hot coal had burned him.

She should’ve thought it was funny, but she was reeling from the wonderful sensations of the “accidental” contact. It brought back vivid memories of the night they’d made love, when he’d done sinfully delicious things to her breasts until she was almost out of her mind with pleasure. No man had ever touched her before or since Win Taylor. Cait had thought about such intimacies with another man, but nobody she imagined could come close to her memories of that night’s bliss.

“You did a good job, Cait,” Win said as he watched her unsaddle Pepper.

“I learned how to cut out a horse not long after I started walking,” she said with a shrug, then faced him. “You were never impressed before.”

“I never realized how special you were before.”

“Don’t!” Her face flaming, Cait stomped into the barn to get some oats for Pepper.

Damn him! Years ago she’d tried everything she could think of to get Win to call her special. The only thing special about her now was being a spinster without her virtue.

She remained in the barn until her emotions were back under lock and key. Returning with her composure intact, she climbed onto the lowest rail and held out the bucket containing a handful of grain for her mare. Pepper crunched noisily.

“You can go back to bed. No need for both of us to lose more sleep,” she said with forced lightness. Win’s silent watchfulness increased her awareness of him, making her vibrate like a taut wire.

He didn’t move. “I kind of like how the moon makes you all silverylike. Reminds me of that night.”

Cait’s eyes widened as her heart jumped into her throat.

She clamped down on her emotions and kept her voice bland. “You must be thinking of someone else. It was a new moon that night. No silver moonlight.”

“No, it was you, Cait. I’d never seen anything as pretty as you that night.”

“I’m not that young girl anymore, Win, and I’m not going to throw myself at you like I was stupid enough to do back then. I learned my lesson the hard way.”

She scrambled down from the rail with the empty bucket and strode toward the barn. Win caught her arm, swinging her around. Cait trembled, halfhoping he would kiss her again, then hating herself for being so weak.

“No, you’re not a girl anymore,” he began softly. He cupped her face in his palms. “You’re a beautiful, independent woman who should be married with a passel of kids tugging at her apron strings.”

Cait forced a laugh. “Have you ever seen me in an apron?”

Win dropped his hands to her hips and spanned her waist with his fingers. “I can imagine, just as I can imagine you with beautiful blond, blueeyed children.”

Cait propped a hand on her hip, then realized she’d only made her nightgown tighten against her breasts. She quickly lowered her arms. “That’s funny. When I was younger I used to dream of darkhaired children with hazel eyes.”

Win’s hands fell away and he stepped back. “I rode away so that wouldn’t happen.”

Cait’s smile felt more like a tortured grimace. “Don’t worry. It worked.” She spun around, set the pail by the barn, and grabbed her rifle. “I’m going to check on the mare. Good night.”

She was fearful that Win would follow her, but he must’ve taken her notsosubtle hint and returned to his bed in the barn. The night was still, broken only by the familiar sounds of the horses, an occasional owl’s hoot, and a nighthawk’s screel. She shivered from the cool air and wished she had gone to the cabin to put on a heavy shirt before returning to the foaling mare.

Tiptoeing, she neared the pen where the mare lay on her side with a damp puddle behind her. The water bag had already broken. It would be a quick birth.

Cait laid the rifle on the ground and stood motionless, watching as the foal’s front feet appeared out of the birth canal. She caught her breath even though she’d lost count of the number of times she’d seen a new foal come into the world.

Over the past years, the significance of each birth had grown for Cait. Ten years ago, she’d felt the beginning of life fluttering within her. Although she’d been ashamed of her condition and terrified of the day her father would learn her secret, the awe of a baby growing within her would make her cry at the oddest times. Sometimes she even imagined herself holding her child as it suckled her breast. There were even moments when she’d remember with joy, instead of regret, the night the child was conceived.

However, four months later she’d lost her baby and the ability to bear more. Now she would give anything, even the ranch, to be able to have a child. Instead, she brought foals into the world, tasting her bitter loss anew every time she did.

The foal’s nose peeked out and Cait found herself breathing with the panting mare.

C’mon, girl, you can do it.

More of the head emerged, then the knees, followed by the neck and flanks. Cait gripped the wood rail tight, but she hardly noticed the splinters biting into her palms. Her attention remained focused on the drama in the corral.

The mare pushed again and all but the back legs and hips of the baby were outside the birthing canal.

Cait brought a fist to her lips and gnawed at her knuckles anxiously. She’d seen this happen before and most of the time the back end of the foal was expelled some minutes later. The few times the foal remained locked in this position Cait’s pa would help the baby get free of its mother.

Long, fretful minutes passed and Cait considered getting Win, but discarded the idea almost immediately. This was her ranch now, and her responsibility. Win wouldn’t be here much longer and she’d have to know how to care for the horses on her own.

The mare tried a few more times to free the hindquarters of its offspring, but finally gave up, her side heaving up and down with her exertions.

Cait’s stomach fluttered, but she resolutely slipped between the rails and very deliberately neared the mare. She could see the whites of the mare’s eyes, but there was little strength remaining to continue the struggle.

“It’s okay, girl. It looks like you might have a small problem here,” Cait crooned softly, her voice trembling. “I can help, girl. It’s okay. Easy now.”

The mare’s gaze tracked Cait and she tried to rise once, but was too weak.

“Shhhh. Relax, Mama. You’ve got a beautiful foal here, but you both need a hand.”

Cait slowly squatted beside the mare and laid her hand lightly on her hindquarters. The mare’s skin rippled, but she didn’t seem overly fearful, only nervous.

“That’s right, Mama, I’m going to help you.” Cait concentrated on what her father had done and gently took hold of the foal’s slimecovered front legs.

“It’s okay, little one.” With slow steady pressure, Cait pulled downward, toward the mare’s heels. Her hands slipped once and she regained her slick hold on the foal. Again she strained carefully, tugging the foal until the hips popped out of the birth canal, along with the hind legs. Cait fell onto her backside with the foal’s head in her lap. She remained sitting on the damp earth, eyeing the tiny filly with wonder and joy.

She eased away from the foal and scuttled backward, away from the mother and its newborn. Slipping out of the corral, she tried not to disturb them. The longer the mother lay there, the more blood would be given to its baby through the cord connecting mother to daughter. The mare instinctively would know when it was time to struggle to her feet and break the cord.

Cait observed the new family, drinking in the healthy baby’s appearance. The filly’s long legs lay tangled beneath her, and it would be a challenge for the little girl when she got around to standing.

It wasn’t long before the mare rolled, getting her hooves beneath her to rise. The cord between her and her offspring broke and only a small bit of blood was shed. Mama sniffed every inch of the filly, then began to lick the infant clean.

Cait smiled as her eyes misted. Another healthy foal. There was only one expectant mare left now and she hoped that birthing went as well as the previous four.

“She’s a beauty.”

Cait whirled around and collided with Win. He grabbed her arms to steady her.

“You shouldn’t go around sneaking up on folks,” she said, pulling away from him.

“I wasn’t sneaking. You just didn’t hear me.”

She’d been so enthralled by the newborn that she wouldn’t have noticed a train barreling out of the trees.

“The foal’s hips got locked inside the mare so I had to give her a hand,” Cait said.

“I know.” He motioned toward her. “You could use a bath.”

For the first time, Cait noticed her arms and gown were covered by drying mucus and blood. She wrinkled her nose at the coppery scent that filled her nostrils. “I didn’t even notice.”

Win smiled crookedly. “I didn’t think you did.” He reached out and scrubbed her cheek with his thumb. “Here, too.”

Although, looking like she did, Cait knew Win couldn’t possibly have any type of indecent thoughts of her, she enjoyed his gentle touch. After hating him for so long, she couldn’t figure out how she could have tender feelings for him again. Was she that starved for intimate contact that she could be swayed so easily by a simple deed? Even from a man she had considered hunting down and putting out of her misery?

“You’re right. I’d best go clean up and get some sleep,” Cait said, suddenly not liking where her thoughts were headed. She glanced at the mare. “Everything’s gone well so I don’t think she’ll have any trouble with the afterbirth.”

“Do you want me to stand guard?” Win asked.

Normally, she wouldn’t have worried, but knowing there was a mountain lion nearby and that he’d surely smell the blood… “It’s not what you signed on for.”

His lips quirked upward. “I didn’t sign on for a lot of things, but that doesn’t mean I mind doing them.”

Even as a boy Win had been generous. While most little boys stuck girls’ pigtails in inkwells, Win rescued butterflies and bruised hearts. She blinked at the sudden sting of moisture in her eyes. Why had that kindhearted, compassionate boy left her without so much as a goodbye ten years ago?

“Are you all right?” The concern in Win’s voice only made her more teary. “What’s wrong, Caity?”

He hadn’t called her Caity since…

She picked up her rifle and thrust it at him. “You might need this.” She whirled around and dashed away, her mind aswirl and her emotions seesawing like an uneven teetertotter.

Chapter Six

WIN SHIFTED HIS backside on the cold, unforgiving ground. Even with a blanket wrapped around him, the night’s chill had seeped into his bones. The predawn glow illuminated the eastern horizon and gave the surrounding mountain peaks a coral blush.

A butterfly flitted past and Win followed its erratic flight from one resting place to another. Win could almost envision Cait in her pigtails and overalls scampering after it. He’d asked her one time why she tried catching them and she’d told him, in her little grownup voice, that she wanted to give them a home. He’d told her each butterfly already had a home and if she caught it, it’d never find its way back. She’d thought about that for a full day before she started chasing them again.

Win had spent most of the night thinking about Cait, trying to figure out why she was so prickly one minute and soft and sweet the next. Despite his vow to keep his distance from her, he found himself looking for reasons to get nearer.

And that damned kiss. He tried to tell himself it was to prove her wrong, that there was still something between them. But the honesttoGod truth was he’d wanted to kiss her. He’d wanted to do a hell of a lot more, too, but his napping conscience had finally awakened and kicked him in the ass.

Last night had been a test of his resolve, and he’d nearly failed. But how could any man ignore what lay beneath the filmy gown she’d worn? Intimate memories of her had only made it more difficult. He’d managed to hold on to his sanity by a thin thread and had escaped into the barn while she’d gone to watch over the mare.

However, when he’d watched Cait pull the foal from its mother and her brilliant smile afterward, he’d felt something fracture within him. Something he’d fought against ever since he’d ridden out of her life was slowly eroding his determination.

He pressed himself upright and stretched, groaning at the stiffness in his muscles. The mountain lion hadn’t returned, but Win didn’t know if it was because the cat was long gone, or because it had smelled a human near the horses. Either way, the mare and her newborn filly, which was now sucking greedily on her mother’s teat, were doing well.

He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Cait walking toward him. She wore clean tan trousers, a brown and green plaid shirt, and no hat. Her long blond braid swayed with her stride that was both purposeful and feminine. The picture was marred, however, by her somber expression, which was absent of vulnerability and softness.

“No problems,” Win said before she could ask.

She didn’t meet his gaze, but studied the mare and foal. “The afterbirth?”

“No problems there either. I took care of it about an hour ago.”

“Thanks.”

Silence surrounded them and Win didn’t feel the need to disturb it. He was tired, not only from the sleepless night, but from Cait’s mercurial moods.

She finally turned toward him. “Breakfast is about ready.”

He merely nodded and they walked quietly back to the cabin, where he washed up and shaved before coming to the table. The meal was eaten in silence.

“When will you need my help with Deil?” Cait asked as she cleared the table.

Win noticed the barely perceptible shudder that passed through her. “Are you certain you want to help?”

She met his gaze steadily. “No, but I’ll do it anyhow.”

Startled by her honesty, Win leaned forward, his hands wrapped around his coffee cup. “He’s only a horse, Cait, not Satan himself. He didn’t kill your father out of meanness or hatred, but because of his nature. By putting him in a pen you took everything away from him and he’s fighting back the only way he knows how.”

“You make him sound human.”

Win shook his head. “No, you’re the one who’s making him human. Hating him for killing your father is like”-he struggled to find the right comparison-“like blaming a gopher for your horse tripping in a hole.”

Cait stared at him, her features blank, but he knew she was considering his words. She pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t like gophers much either.”

Win spotted the barest twinkle in her eyes and couldn’t help but smile. “Me neither, but I don’t blame them for doing what they were born to do.”

Cait took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I understand what you’re saying, Win, but Deil is different. When I look in his eyes, I get the feeling he knows exactly what I’m thinking.” She shivered and rubbed her arms where goosebumps rose. “He scares me.”

“I suppose if I’d seen him trample my father, I’d feel the same way.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever stop hating him,” Cait confessed, her voice husky.

“You will. Someday.”

The sound of a horse’s hooves interrupted them, and Win stepped over to the window. A man dismounted by the hitching post and strode toward the house, raising a cloud of dust as he slapped his hat against his thigh. Although ten years had passed since he’d seen him last and the man had gained a few pounds, Win recognized him. His breakfast settled like a cannonball in his belly.

“It’s Frank Duffy,” he said to Cait.

She frowned. “What’s he doing here?”

“He used to work for your pa now and again, didn’t he?”

“Until he signed on fulltime with Crowley’s outfit five years ago.”

“Miz Brice, you in there?” Duffy called out, pounding on the door.

Cait swung open the door. “Morning, Frank. What brings you here so early?”

The big man’s gaze shifted past Cait to Win, who stood with his arms folded over his chest. Duffy’s eyes widened then narrowed. “Taylor?”

“Hello, Duffy.”

“Never thought I’d see you back here.”

Win could feel the tension in the cabin rise, and saw Cait’s puzzled frown as she noticed it, too. “Tremayne wanted me to tame a horse for Cait.”

“That black devil?”

Win nodded.

“He killed Brice. The murderin’ sonofabitch oughta be shot.”

“What do you want, Frank?” Cait interrupted, her tone sharp.

Duffy swung his attention back to Cait. “Beulah Grisman’s at Doc’s place. It don’t look good.”

Cait’s face paled. “What happened?”

“Doc didn’t say. Just asked me to let you know on my way back to the ranch. He said the old lady’s askin’ for you.”

“How long has she been there?”

“Guess she come into town yesterday and went straight to Doc’s.” Duffy shrugged his meaty shoulders. “That’s all

I know.”

Cait’s frightened eyes met Win’s. “I’ve got to go.”

“I’ll go with you,” Win offered immediately.

“No. Someone has to stay around in case the cat comes back.”

“Cat?” Duffy interjected. “You got problems with a mountain lion?”

“There was one hanging around the mares last night,” Win answered. “One of the mares foaled overnight so there’s a good chance the lion will come back.”

“I’d best let my boss know. He’ll want to put out some extra guards.” Duffy eyed Win. “You plannin’ on stickin’ around?”

“I’m only staying until I break the stallion.”

“Glad to hear it.”

What Duffy didn’t say was just as loud as his words. Frank Duffy was one of those men who didn’t like Indians, and always made a point to badger Win when they were alone.

“I’d best get back to work. Spring’s a busy time,” Duffy said.

“Thank you for letting me know,” Cait said.

“Yes, ma’am. I hope everything works out. Beulah ain’t the most likable, but she’s been around these parts for longer’n most of us.” Duffy backed out of the cabin. “Bye, Miz Brice.” He glanced at Win and said with less warmth, “Taylor.”

Cait closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing.

“Are you all right?” Win asked, concerned by her pallor.

She nodded, then grabbed her hat from the rack and opened the door, but paused before running out. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

Win squeezed her shoulder gently. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of the chores around here.”

Cait closed her eyes and swallowed. When her eyelids flickered open, her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“She means a lot to me, Win. I owe her my life.”

“Your life?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be back when I can.” She turned and fled.

Win clapped his hat on his dark head and stepped onto the porch. He braced his right shoulder against the post and watched Cait saddle her pinto mare. What was she hiding? What secret did she and the old lady share?

Cait mounted her mare and trotted down the road. She looked back and waved. Win lifted a hand in return, but she’d already turned away.

Win tipped his hat back and rubbed his pounding forehead. He hadn’t expected to see Duffy again. It was men like Duffy who had convinced Win his pa was right. Folks didn’t take kindly to an Indian carrying on with a white woman, and oftentimes it was the woman who suffered the shame. It didn’t matter that Win was only onefourth Indian. He’d protected Cait the best way he knew how.

CAITrecognized most of the people on the boardwalk and absently greeted them. She only wanted to see Beulah and find out what had happened.

She stepped into the doctor’s office and blinked at the relative darkness after the bright sunlight. After slipping her hat off to let it hang down her back, she rang the little bell on the desk.

Ann Mercer, dressed in a black dress with a starched white apron and hat came out from the back room. “Cait. I’m so glad you’re here.” The nurse clasped Cait’s hands. “Beulah’s been asking for you.”

Cait’s heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised Ann couldn’t hear it. “What happened? Is she all right?”

Ann’s expression grew somber. “I’ll let the doctor talk to you.”

The room spun and Cait gasped. “What’s wrong with her?”

But Ann only led Cait up the stairs to the rooms Doc used for seriously ill or injured patients. Cait’s memories of this place were anything but good. Her father’s broken and bloody body. The bitter smell of medicine and alcohol. The cloying scent of death.

Cait forced herself to breathe steadily, to shut out the horrific images that returned to haunt her.

“Wait here. I’ll get the doctor,” Ann said. She left Cait standing in the hallway while she entered the same room where Tremayne Brice had died.

Cait tilted her head back against the wall and stared at a crack in the white ceiling. A tear trickled down her cheek and she brushed it away impatiently. She’d had a bad feeling about Beulah the day they went into town. Why hadn’t Cait checked on her the next day? Beulah wasn’t a spring chicken anymore and she lived all alone. She could’ve died there and nobody would’ve found her for days.

Another tear escaped. If she hadn’t been so caught up in Win and the past, she would’ve noticed Beulah hadn’t shown up when she said she would.

The door opened and Ann emerged, followed by Dr. McKay. Four inches over six feet and weighing over two hundred pounds, Dr. McKay looked more like a logger than a doctor.

“What happened? How is she?” Cait asked immediately.

Dr. McKay’s brown eyes filled with compassion. “Beulah doesn’t have much time left. I’m sorry.”

Cait’s vision faded in and out and she felt someone steady her.

“Cait? Can you hear me?” the doctor asked.

She blinked and found Dr. McKay’s concerned face directly in front of her. “What-”

“She’s known about it for some time, but didn’t want to tell anyone, especially you. She wanted to spare you.”

Cait’s heart tightened with fear. “What’s wrong with her?”

“She was having pains in her chest and stomach, but didn’t come see me until she started coughing up blood.” Dr. McKay licked his dry lips. “She knew it was only a matter of time then.”

“She should’ve told me!” Anger sharpened Cait’s voice and she glared at the doctor. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

Ann rubbed Cait’s arm. “You know Beulah better than any of us. Would she have wanted someone fussing around her?”

Riddled with guilt and pain, Cait could only shake her head. “I didn’t even notice,” she whispered hoarsely.

“Beulah was a master at hiding her pain.” Dr. McKay smiled slightly. “She’s also a stubborn old woman.”

Cait released a watery laugh. “That she is.” She took a deep breath and locked her gaze on the door hiding Beulah from her. “Can I see her?”

“Of course.” Dr. McKay opened the door for her. “Try not to tire her.”

Her mouth suddenly bone dry, Cait nodded. She forced herself to walk into the dim room, her knees trembling. At first she couldn’t even see Beulah buried within the bedclothes. Then she spotted her withered face, which was the same color as the milky white pillow. Cait curled her fingers into her sweating palms and the ball of dread that had dropped into her stomach grew.

“Beulah?” she called out softly.

The wizened woman, who appeared years older than she had four days earlier, opened her eyes. She seemed to have trouble focusing and Cait moved closer, leaning down to clasp her cool, bony hand.

“I’m right here, Beulah,” Cait said, sinking into a chair close to the bed.

Beulah turned her head and her rheumy eyes settled on Cait. The barest of smiles touched her dry, bluetinged lips. “What’s with the… the sad face?” she asked in a weak voice.

Cait attempted a smile, but knew it fell flat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Beulah’s thin eyelids flickered. “Because I…I didn’t want you…carryin’ on. I’ve made…my peace with my Maker. Ddon’t know where I’ll…end up, but I done the best I could.” She wheezed and began to cough with a deep, harsh sound that made Cait’s chest ache in sympathy.

Cait leaned over Beulah and touched her leathery cheek. “Shhhh. Take it easy. No need to rush.”

Beulah’s hacking finally subsided but it took a few more minutes for her to regain her breath. “I only got…one last thing to do.” She paused and her eyes filled with moisture. A tear rolled down the side of her face into her thin gray hair. “You was like…a daughter to me, Cait. I… know I never showed it, but…I love you like you was… my own.”

Cait’s throat constricted and for a moment she couldn’t breathe. “You were like a mother to me, Beulah. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.” Her voice broke.

“You’da survived. You’re…a strong one. Like me.” Again Beulah stopped to catch her breath. Her lungs rattled. “That fellah…Taylor…he’s the one… ain’t he?”

Cait nodded, not surprised by her perceptiveness. “He doesn’t know.”

“Tell him!”

Cait flinched at the forceful words. “II can’t.”

“Why?” For a moment, Cait saw Beulah’s former strength of will in her eyes.

“He ran out on me. I hated him.”

“You love him.” Beulah closed her eyes as her breath rasped noisily.

Cait bowed her head, thoughts and feelings skittering around like water on a hot griddle. She’d spent ten long years hating him. He’d abandoned her, left her to face bearing their child alone. Then she’d miscarried and lost her ability to have more children. She’d blamed Win all these years, yet wasn’t she equally at fault? If anyone had forced anyone, it was Cait who’d forced herself on Win. He’d tried to resist, but she’d continued to tease him, and she’d been so smug when he’d succumbed to her. So who was truly at fault?

“You were… only a girl,” Beulah said, as if reading Cait’s thoughts. “But you’re…a woman now. Don’t let… him get away again.”

“I don’t know if I can.” “You… ccan do anything you…put your mind to.”

Beulah gazed at her with affection, pride, and love. “I’ll try.” Beulah stared at her a long moment. “I ain’t… gonna ask you to promise.” The rasping grew louder. “Your decision. Your life.” Beulah’s eyes closed and Cait could sense her spirit leaving.

“No, Beulah. Please.” Cait perched on the edge of her chair, grasping Beulah’s thin hand between both of hers. Beulah took a deep, shuddering breath, then lay still. Cait fell to her knees beside the bed and buried her face in the colorful quilt. Now she was completely alone.

Chapter Seven

WIN ROCKED RHYTHMICALLY in the chair he and Cait used to squabble over, remembering the past with bittersweet nostalgia. The deepening twilight added to the melancholy that had plagued him all day. Earlier he’d managed to keep busy feeding the horses, as well as greenbreaking one of the mustangs. The horse needed more work to make a decent cattle horse, but he knew Cait could handle that part of the training. He’d seen her do it enough when they were younger. He’d also spent a couple of hours talking to Deil and managed to lure the stallion close enough to eat a thick carrot Win had tossed on the ground only three feet from where he stood. He knew he’d only won a single skirmish. He still had the main battle ahead of him.

Now more than ever, Win was anxious to tame the stallion and put as many miles between himself and Cait as possible. There was no doubt she was drawn to him, just as he was tempted by her. But now that Duffy knew Win was staying with Cait, Win couldn’t spend a minute longer here than he had to. When he arrived, he’d thought Tremayne would be there to act as a chaperone, but alone with Cait, he knew the gossip was only a whisper away.

A movement down the road caught his attention and he stood to see the figure more clearly in the disappearing light. He recognized the black and white pony first. As Cait approached, he noticed the slump in her shoulders. Apprehension slithered down his spine.

Cait drew her pinto up by the corral and Win strode out to meet her.

“How is she?” Win asked.

Cait’s spine stiffened but he couldn’t see her face as she concentrated on removing her mare’s tack.

“She’s-” Cait cleared her throat. “She’s gone.”

Win silently damned fate for taking Cait’s friend so soon after her father’s death.

Cait carried her saddle into the barn and Win followed. She stacked the saddle in its proper place but remained standing there, her back to him as she fingered the latigo laces. “She’d been wasting away for months and I didn’t even notice.”

Win wasn’t certain which was worse-her grief over Beulah or her selfloathing. “I’m sorry, Cait,” he said awkwardly.

“First Pa, now Beulah.” She turned slowly and raised her gaze to Win. The hollow sadness in her eyes was like a spear through his chest. “Are you going to leave me, too, Win?”

He ignored his own warnings to keep his distance and hugged her. “Awww, Caity.”

She stiffened, then slowly relaxed into his embrace, her weight resting more fully against him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek in the center of his chest. The same protectiveness he’d felt for her when they were children swamped him. He’d never felt this fierce emotion with any other woman.

He rubbed her back with a soothing upanddown motion and rested his chin on her crown, whispering gentle, calming words. He didn’t realize she was crying until her tears soaked through his shirt, dampening his skin. Tightening his embrace, he kissed the top of her head.

“Let it all out, Cait. It’s okay,” Win murmured.

Dust motes swirled around them and the horses’ quiet whickers wafted in with the cool evening air. Insects buzzed and an owl hooted.

Win had lived the past ten years riding from one ranch to the next, spending his money in every saloon he could find, and never leaving more than a soonforgotten memory behind. He’d never been tempted to stay in one place longer than it took to do what he was hired to do. There was always another job, another saloon, and another woman down the road.

None of those things were what he wanted. Not anymore. Cait had stolen his heart all those years ago and he hadn’t even realized it was missing until this moment. But what could he do about it?

“Are you hungry?” he asked when she shifted in his hold.

“Not really.”

“Did you eat something in town?”

He felt her shake her head against his chest.

“Why don’t we go inside and I’ll see what I can throw together?”

Cait eased back and lifted her head. “Last time you did the cooking, we ended up gnawing on burnt beef and nearly raw potatoes.”

He chuckled, remembering his attempt long ago at making supper when he’d complained about Cait’s cooking one night while he and his pa’d been visiting. “I’ve never criticized a woman’s cooking since.”

He expected a chuckle or maybe a smile, but Cait merely looked at him somberly. “Were there a lot of women, Win?”

Surprised by the question, his amusement bled away. He shrugged and looked past her. “A few.”

“Why didn’t you get hitched to one of them?” There was only curiosity in her voice.

He forced a laugh. “One or two tried to harness me, but I’m not the marrying kind, Cait. I always wanted to follow the wind, see what lay down the next road.”

“Sounds more like a tumbleweed than a person.”

This time his amusement was genuine. “I suppose it does to someone who’s lived in one place most of her life. After my ma died, Pa just didn’t have the heart to settle down with another woman. The closest I had to a home was this place.”

She stepped back and he dropped his arms. She eyed him shrewdly. “So why’d you stay away for ten years?”

The fading light was his ally as he lied through his teeth. “After what I did to you, I figured your pa would be holding a shotgun next time I stopped by.”

“I never told him, and he never mentioned it so I figured he didn’t know. What about your pa? Didn’t he think it was strange that you wanted to leave so early that morning?”

“I got my drifting ways from Pa. He figured I just got a powerful itch to move on and followed.” The blatant lie burned like acid. It was his father who had insisted they leave immediately. He’d known what Win and Cait had been up to, and he hadn’t approved. Adam Taylor had been married to a half Indian woman for six years. He knew about folks’ narrowmindedness firsthand, and had informed his son that unless he wanted to make Cait’s life miserable, he’d leave her alone. There was no choice to be made. Win rode away.

“Did your pa know?”

When did she start reading my mind?

Cait’s pointblank questions gnawed at Win’s conscience. He’d never liked lying or people who did it, yet here he was spinning tales like some crazy old mountain man. “Why all the questions now, Cait? That was ten years ago.”

“We’ve danced around it ever since you got here. I’m getting tired of not knowing why you left the way you did.” She glared at him. “I have a right to know.”

“Why?” he asked, hoping to keep her offbalance enough that she would drop the questionandanswer.

She stared past him. “You took my virginity then rode off like it meant nothing.”

Although her reason made sense, Win knew she was hiding something from him. “What did it mean to you?” he asked quietly.

Cait hadn’t expected him to turn the question around on her, but she should have been prepared to give him an answer. She’d thought about Beulah’s words during the long afternoon after she met with the undertaker to discuss the funeral. She’d argued with herself while riding a circuitous route back to the ranch, delaying seeing Win for as long as possible.

Beulah had given her a choice, unlike her father, who’d taken it away when he’d made her promise not to kill the murdering stallion and to have Win break it. It would’ve been so easy without that promise. One wellplaced bullet and her father’s death would be avenged and Win wouldn’t have disrupted her life.

Isn’t that what she wished?

“Cait.” Win’s voice brought her out of her dark thoughts. “What did that night mean to you?” he repeated.

You were… only a girl, but you’re…a woman now. Don’t let… him get away again.

You… ccan do anything you…put your mind to.

I ain’t… gonna ask you to promise. Your decision. Your life.

Beulah’s last words echoed in Cait’s mind. How had she known Cait had crossed that fine line from love to hatred and back to love?

“It meant everything,” Cait whispered, her throat full and tight. “I loved you, Win. When we were children, you always understood me. I didn’t even have to speak and you knew. Why didn’t you understand that night?”

His Adam’s apple dove up and down, and his eyes glittered brightly. “I knew, Cait.”

Shock and dismay filled her and she stepped away, putting more space between them. “Then why?” The truth hit her and she nearly doubled over with pain. “You never loved me, did you?” Her voice quavered.

Win crossed the distance between them and grabbed her arms. “I did, Cait. I loved you. I love you.” His eyes widened and his breathing paused. “I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted to protect you.”

Frustration made Cait clench her hands at her sides. “Protect me from what? You were the one who hurt me!”

“I’m part Indian, Cait.”

She stared at him, even more confused. “So?”

“Pa said if you and I got married, you’d be treated like trash. I couldn’t do that to you.”

Her mind sifted through his confession and one fact jumped out. “Your pa made you leave that morning.”

Win jerked back. “He didn’t make me. He just explained to me why I couldn’t stay.”

Cait closed her eyes as she tried to readjust her thinking after having her memories clouded by ten years of hatred and pain. Maybe it was time to clear the air once and for all. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she struggled to find the words she needed. “After you left, I was hurt and angry, but I kept hoping you’d come back. One week led to a month, to two months. And that’s when I knew something was wrong.”

Win frowned. “What do you mean?”

She felt the heat of embarrassment, but said, “I’d…I’d missed my monthly.”

It took only a moment or two for him to grasp the meaning. “Cait,” he said hoarsely, “I didn’t even think about-”

“Neither did I until I was faced with it.” She took a moment to gather her composure. “Beulah found me crying by the pond where we used to go swimming. I couldn’t tell Pa and there was no one else I trusted enough to confess my shame.”

“I’m sor-”

Cait held up her hand. “Don’t. It’s in the past. Just let me get it out before I lose my nerve.” She forced a weak smile. “Beulah promised to help me. She also gave me a kick in the butt whenever I was feeling sorry for myself. She reminded me that I was carrying a child, the most precious gift a woman can receive.

“My trousers were starting to get tight and I was wondering how much longer I could hide my condition from Pa, when it happened.” She wrapped her arms around herself and began to pace. “It started with cramps in the morning and by the afternoon, I knew something was wrong. I’d started bleeding.”

Win’s face was silvery white in the moonlight coming through the open door. Cait turned away, unable to bear his agonized expression.

“I wasn’t thinking very clearly, but I knew I couldn’t let Pa see me that way. I rode over to Beulah’s. By the time I got there, I-” The remembered fear and helplessness made her voice break. “The saddle had blood all over it and I would’ve fallen off my horse if Beulah hadn’t helped me. I stayed at her place for a week until I was well enough to leave. We told Pa I was taking care of Beulah.”

“The baby?” Win asked in a hoarse whisper.

“I lost it,” she said bluntly. “Beulah told me there was nothing I could’ve done, but I still blamed myself. I kept thinking that maybe if I hadn’t ridden over to Beulah’s, the baby would’ve lived. Then Beulah told me that I’d never be able to bear a child again.” She hardly noticed the tear that rolled down her cheek. “That’s when I started to hate you. I blamed you for the loss of our baby, and I blamed you for turning me into something less than a woman, a person who could never marry and have a family. Everything was your fault.”

“It was,” Win said in a raspy voice. “If I hadn’t ridden away…”

Without thought, Cait went to him and placed her hand over his mouth. His whiskers rasped her palm and a sensuous shiver skated down her spine. “It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Not yours. Not mine. Beulah kept telling me that and I never believed her until today.”

Win grasped her wrist and lowered her hand from his mouth, but he didn’t release her as he brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “Why today?”

“She knew it was you,” Cait said, ignoring his question.

“How?”

“I don’t know. She just did. She told me to stop acting like a child and start behaving like a woman. She was right. I’ve been hiding from it for so long.” She reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm. “Even when I hated you, I loved you. I never stopped, Win. Beulah made me face the truth.”

Win groaned and swept her into his arms. He hugged her close and Cait accepted his strength and warmth. Maybe she’d used the excuse that she couldn’t have children to keep her distance from men, but the truth was she’d only wanted one man.

Win Taylor.

He kissed her hard, almost savagely, and Cait welcomed his possessiveness. She returned his kiss equally as passionately, determined to show him what she’d kept inside, hidden beneath hurt and bitterness.

Deil’s frantic whinny startled them apart, and Cait jolted out of the circle of his arms. The timing couldn’t have been worse and she barely managed to stifle a groan of disappointment. “Do you think the mountain lion’s back?”

Win nodded grimly and Cait noticed his lips were slightly swollen from their kiss. “Stay here,” he ordered.

“No. This is my ranch and you’re not going to leave me behind.”

Win’s eyes glittered and a crooked smile claimed his lips. “All right, but stay behind me.”

She didn’t argue, but would do what she had to. She pulled her rifle from her saddle boot, glad she’d carried it in with the saddle instead of leaving it outside by the corral. Win retrieved his revolver from his bedroll in a corner stall and stalked to the wide doorway. Cait followed closely. He stood there, peering into the twilight and sniffing the air like a predator scenting his prey.

Deil paced back and forth in the corral, his attention focused on something only five or ten yards from his position.

Fortunately the moon was full, and Cait spotted a slowly moving shadow not far from Deil’s corral, on the far side near a stand of bushes. She’d never known a wild animal, especially a cat, to come so close to buildings.

“It’s over there.” Cait raised the rifle to her shoulder.

Win slid his Colt out of its holster. “Dammit, I’m too far away for a decent shot.”

“I’m not,” Cait said evenly, although her heart was threatening to make a break from her chest. She could see the faint outline of the cat and centered her sight on what appeared to be its head.

Deil reared up repeatedly, slamming his front hooves on the ground. He grew more frantic as the lion crept closer.

Cait’s finger wavered on the trigger. All she had to do was delay firing and the cat would take care of the hated stallion for her. Either the lion would kill Deil or the horse would be injured so badly he’d have to be put down. And Cait wouldn’t even have to break her promise to her father.

“He’s only a horse, Cait,” Win whispered close to her ear. “He didn’t murder your father. He doesn’t deserve to die.”

“You didn’t see him.” An unexpected sob rose in her throat. “Deil kept rearing up and Pa kept rolling, trying to get away.”

“Deil was terrified, Cait, and just like when people are scared, they lash out at what they fear most. He was afraid of your father, and he reacted the only way he knew.”

The cat stalked closer to the corral and Cait followed him with her rifle.

“It might seem that Deil hated your father, but he was reacting the only way he knew how.” Win paused and said quietly, “Just like when you were scared, Caity.”

The cat rose up and launched itself upward. Cait squeezed the trigger and the rifle kicked her shoulder. The mountain lion dropped like a rock and lay motionless just outside the corral.

Cait closed her eyes and slumped. She felt Win take the rifle from her numb hands, and his arm encircled her shoulders.

“You did it, Cait,” he said. His chest rumbled against her arm.

She gazed up at him. “Why didn’t you just take the rifle and do it yourself?”

“Because it was your decision, Cait. You had to make the choice.”

“What if I made the wrong one?”

Win smiled gently. “You wouldn’t have.”

“How could you be so certain?”

“Because I know you, Cait.”

She thought about that for a minute, then smiled. “Yes, you do.”

“Go on inside and I’ll take care of the cat,” Win suggested.

She clung to his arm. “Will you come to me when you’re done?”

“Do you want me to?”

She released him, suddenly uncertain if he wanted what she did. Or even if she had the right to ask. “I love you, Win, and I don’t give a damn what people say. But I can’t give you children.” Her throat choked off the rest of her words.

Win’s expression filled with grief. “If I’d have known, I would’ve been here for you, Caity. I swear it. I wouldn’t have let you go through that alone.”

“I know.” She could barely squeak out the words and quickly looked down.

Win raised her face with a gentle grip on her chin. “Since I couldn’t have the woman I loved, I never planned to get married, which meant I’d never have children. But if you’re able to put up with what people will say about us, then I’d be honored to become your husband.”

Cait’s eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’ll be expecting you in the cabin.”

He grinned and Cait was struck by how much he resembled the boy she’d fallen in love with so many years ago. “Yes, ma’am.”

She watched him leave but turned away before he began his grisly task. Turning her attention toward Deil, she couldn’t help but feel that something between them had changed. When the stallion met her gaze, his eyes no longer appeared to mock her. Instead, she saw his pride and something akin to gratitude. She shook her head, laughing silently at her imagination.

Then Deil deliberately approached the end of the corral closest to her and tossed his head. Cait held her breath and forced herself to walk slowly toward him. She held out her hand as she neared him but only got within a yard before Deil backed away nervously. He gazed at her and seemed to nod, then turned away and pranced around the corral.

Cait watched him, allowing her admiration and hopes to rise. Her heart swelled with joy and contentment until it seemed to fill her chest.

She nodded to Deil, then turned to walk to her cabin to await Win’s arrival. This time she’d give him a true homecoming.

Epilogue

ONE YEAR LATER

WIN HELD A carrot out to the frolicking stallion, and Deil trotted over to take it almost daintily from his hand. Win smiled and scratched the horse’s forehead.

“You think you’re so tough, but you’re just a pussycat,” Win teased the stud.

The ebony horse whinnied in indignation and trotted away.

Win laughed at the stallion’s antics. After he and Cait had finally managed to tame him, Deil acted more like a spoiled child than the prize stud of the BriceTaylor Ranch.

Win turned away from the corral and spotted his wife strolling toward him with a radiant smile that made her eyes glow with happiness. Love and contentment made his own lips turn upward.

When she drew close enough, he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her close to his side. “What’re you looking so secretive about?”

Her eyes danced with affection and mischief, a combination that never failed to ignite the passion that always smoldered close to the surface.

She sniffed. “As if I could keep any secret from you.”

“You managed to keep my birthday present secret for a full five hours,” he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him. He laughed and dropped a kiss on her impertinent nose.

Comfortable silence surrounded them as they watched Deil trot around the pen.

“Do you think he knew?” Cait asked softly, burrowing closer into Win’s side.

“Who?”

“My father. Do you think he knew why you left that morning, and he tried to make it right when he made me promise to send for you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Win had thought the same thing a time or two but never voiced it.

“I think he knew, and I think he used Deil to bring us back together.”

Win thought about that a moment. “If that’s so, I owe him.”

“We both do.” Cait took a deep breath. “I went to see Doc this morning while I was in town.”

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” Win demanded, fear making his voice curt.

“No, everything’s fine.” She smiled and he was shocked to see moisture glimmering in her eyes. “We’re going to have a baby.”

Win’s vision narrowed and wavered, and he was aware of Cait steadying him.

“But I thought-” He broke off, uncertain what to say.

“Beulah wasn’t a doctor,” Cait said quietly. “I told Doc what happened with the first child. Doc wants to see me every month, just to make sure everything’s going all right with this one.”

Win stared at Cait’s calm, composed features. He had a million questions, but now didn’t seem the time to ask. Instead he wrapped his arms around her and swung her around. “We’re going to have a baby!” Suddenly he set her down, terrified he’d inadvertently hurt her. “Are you all right? Did I-”

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” Cait laughed. “And I don’t expect to be treated like glass for the next six months.”

“But you will be careful. And no more breaking horses. I’ll take care of that. I can do the chores, too. And you should take at least one nap a day to make sure you don’t get too tired.”

Cait jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, effectively silencing him. “Doc said definitely no breaking horses and I agree with him. However, doing my chores won’t hurt the baby or myself unless I try to lift something too heavy.” She placed her palms over her stillflat abdomen. “I want this baby as much as you do, Win. I’ll be careful.” With her forefinger, she drew an X over her left breast. “I promise.”

Win captured her hand and held it against his chest as he hugged her close. His throat felt clogged and he struggled to breathe past the lump there. “I love you, Cait.”

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

A black and white butterfly landed on the corral pole less than two feet away. Win turned Cait in his arms so her back was against his chest and she could see the striking butterfly.

“Aren’t you going to catch it?” Win teased.

Cait sank into him and laid her hands over his, which were clasped at her waist. “I don’t catch butterflies anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

She leaned her head back against his shoulder and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. Her eyes sparkled with love. “If I caught them, they’d never find their way home… like you did.”

The butterfly fluttered away and Win smiled, silently wishing it luck in finding home.