Page 17 of Wyoming True
“How’s your mare?” he asked, unwillingly reminded of the handsome cowboy she’d hired.
“Gold? We had to get the vet. Somebody left deep lacerations all over her hindquarters, on both flanks,” she said, her voice tinged with remembered outrage.
“How the hell did that happen? Did she take a fall?”
She bit her lower lip. “We’re not sure what happened.”
He gave her a long sideways look before he turned onto the road to Pam’s house. “Not sure.”
“I can’t talk about it,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
His heart jumped. She was saying something without voicing it, and he knew it. Someone had hurt the horse. Who? Why? He was eaten up with questions and she sat there like the Sphinx, saying nothing, giving away nothing.
He pulled up in front of Pam’s house. The driveway had been cleared of snow, so Ida walked in under her own power, with Jake just behind her after he parked the car in front of the house.
“Welcome!” Pam exclaimed, hugging Ida and Jake. “I’m so glad you could both come. We have a lovely dinner. Cook’s been in the kitchen all day.”
“I’m starved,” Jake drawled. “Well, starved of home cooking, for sure. All I can make are scrambled eggs and toast.”
“Don’t you have a cook?” Pam exclaimed.
“I haven’t been in town long enough to hire one, actually,” he confessed. “I’ve been in Australia, helping Rogan assess the damage and deal with the fires. Rain would be damned welcome, I’ll tell you that.”
“We all heard about the fires,” Pam said as she led the way to the elegant dining room. “Such a tragedy. So many animals lost.”
“So many arsonists caught,” Jake replied. “I hope they lock them up forever.”
“So do I,” Ida said quietly.
He glanced at her covertly, remembering her old cat and the damaged mare. She loved animals.
“Come on to the dining room. We’re starting a little early, but I have a surprise for later,” Pam said with a covert and amused glance that Ida didn’t see.
“I love surprises,” Jake teased.
Pam laughed softly. ‘You’ll really love this one. I promise.”
Dinner was a delicately prepared chicken-and-shrimp carbonara with a crème brûlée for dessert.
“It was delicious,” Ida told her hostess with a warm smile.
The other couples echoed the sentiment. Two husbands were openly staring at Ida while their wives, a little less attractive than Jake’s dinner partner, glared.
Ida ground her teeth together. Pam noticed where she was looking and announced that they would all retire to the living room while the cook cleared away the dinner plates. She added that coffee would be forthcoming for any who wanted it.
JAKEWASLESSthan friendly as he stared at Ida covertly, noting the husbands who were almost falling over each other in an attempt to sit beside her.
He took Ida’s arm and, to the husbands’ irritation, moved her to a couple of upholstered chairs near the sofa, all the furniture facing an enormous, polished grand piano on a platform. The piano was obviously the centerpiece of the room. Everyone knew that Pam had been taking lessons.
Jake sat down beside her.
“Thanks,” she said under her breath.
He glanced at her and scowled. Her hands in her lap were shaking. Her face was pale, her posture stiff and reserved. His mind went back to the orthopedic surgeon Ida was seeing, the massive amount of anti-inflammatories she was taking. Something had happened to her. Something traumatic.
Without voluntary effort, his big hand slid over one of hers, finding it cold. His hand closed around her fingers, shocking her into looking at him.
His pale silver eyes glittered as they registered her delicate features, her soft mouth and exquisite complexion. “You’re safe,” he said quietly, without understanding why he said it.