Page 42 of Westin

“But he did. And that’s a problem.”

“I know.”

“You put everyone on this ranch at risk.” His eyes suddenly darkened, clouds swarming. “If that man had gotten into the main house and gone after Miss Dulcie—”

“But he didn’t.”

“He could have.” He shook his head. “I’m done playing games with you, Lea. It was all a big joke until you put people I care about at risk. Now it’s no longer a joke.”

He stormed out, his boots stomping across the porch. She went after him, jerking the door open even as it still vibrated from him slamming it. But he was in the truck and tearing out of the drive before she could even reach the porch rail.

Hell!

The last thing she had wanted was to put these people at risk. And the more she’d gotten to know them, especially Westin, the less she wanted to introduce them to the darkness that was her world. That first day, she’d thought she was just going to take it easy, hide out for a few days. He was right; she’d thought she was playing a game, getting a few laughs out of these beautifully naïve people. She regretted it now. She regretted every second of it.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered under her breath as she watched the truck disappear over the swell in the land.

***

It felt like she was stuck in that cabin for days on end. She couldn’t sit still long enough to watch television, couldn’t concentrate on the magazines Clint’s wife had left on the coffee table. She’d invited Remington inside to at least share a few tidbits of conversation, but he refused, insisting Clint wanted him outside and her inside. She was cut off from everything, and she hated it. She was used to being in the thick of things, not alone, not out of the loop.

This was her problem. They should allow her to deal with it.

When Clint suddenly came through the door a little before the dinner hour, she could have cried.

“I’m going insane in here!”

He lowered his head slightly, his eyes cutting to the door that should have hidden his child’s bedroom but didn’t. She could see the pain cut across his face and regretted that she hadn’t made an effort to at least close the door. But would it have made a difference?

“Let’s get out of here, then.”

Lea jumped at the opportunity, snagging her jacket and shoving her arms inside as she stormed through the door. Much to her amusement, there were two horses tied to the rail of the porch—one the gray beauty she’d ridden all day before, and the other a black gelding with an almost stately profile. She sighed. Back in the saddle with her sore thighs. Well, it was better than being left another minute with her raging thoughts.

Up on the horse’s back, she patted her neck as Clint released the reins and handed them up to her. Then he mounted his gelding and led the way out of the yard. Lea offered a little wave to Remington, who watched them closely but never uttered a single word.

“He doesn’t talk much, does he?”

Clint glanced back at the house and his man sitting with his feet propped up on the rail. “He’s had a hard life.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“Some endure a lot more than others.”

Clint spurred his horse, and the beautiful animal moved easily into a canter as he rushed across the open field. Gray Lady followed easily, keeping tempo with the gelding like they’d ridden together often. Lea leaned forward slightly, putting most of her weight into her legs instead of the saddle, trying to remember everything her grandfather had taught her about riding. It was almost exhilarating, the feel of the wind blowing across her face, her braid bouncing against her back. It reminded her of those years on the farm, the long summers she’d never wanted to end. It was a peace that she desperately needed.

Lea didn’t think they had a specific destination in mind. She let herself fall into the rhythm of the horses, the ice-cold air on her face, the beauty of the terrain they were moving over. But as she was losing herself in it all, Clint slowed his horse and directed him toward a low-hanging tree where he dismounted and tied the reins.

“Come on,” he said to her without waiting to help her tie up her own horse. She dismounted gracelessly, nearly twisting her ankle in the process, but managed to secure the reins to a low branch without breaking anything.

Clint had wandered over to a low fence that wasn’t much different from the one she’d spent all morning helping Westin check for breaks. Like several they’d found on that other fence, there was a break in this one. Clint dropped to his knees in the snow to examine the damage, eventually holding up a length of wood that had clearly been removed intentionally, the damage at the nail holes undeniably done by human hands.

“I think this is likely how he got onto the property. Probably had a car parked over there,” Clint said, gesturing to a narrow trail that ran alongside the fence. “One of my guys reported the damage this morning, but it wasn’t here yesterday.”

He stood, brushing the snow from his jeans. Lea didn’t know what to say, so she just dumbly handed the wood section back to him.

“The guest bunkhouses are back that way,” he said, gesturing toward a stand of trees just three or four hundred yards from where they stood. “It wouldn’t have taken much for him to get there.”

“Assuming he knew how to get there.”