Brazen, Page 2

  So, again, what was he up to?

  Clay couldn’t help but worry. He knew Siobhan was trying to run the ranch herself after her husband’s death, that she was alone and vulnerable.

  Was some kind of plot brewing against her?

  Was Paco Vargas involved?

  Though he’d tried to forget Siobhan, Clay couldn’t just ignore a possible threat to the woman he’d once loved.

  He knew he had to find out what was going on for himself.

  WHY DID THESE TERRIBLE things keep happening? Siobhan McKenna thought as she hunkered down to check on her mare’s injury. Garnet had been pastured for several days, and when Siobhan had gone to get her, she’d found the mare’s leg had been slashed open and badly infected. Not that Siobhan had been able to figure out what had caused the injury. Luckily, she’d checked on Garnet in time. The vet had told her another day without treatment and she might have lost the mare.

  As she changed the dressing, she thought about her late husband’s fatal riding accident four months before and how she’d had nothing but bad luck since. Things kept going wrong on the ranch—costly accidents and mistakes depleting the ranch’s resources—and the stress was getting to be too much for her to handle.

  If only Jeff hadn’t died…

  A dose of guilt flushed through Siobhan. She’d believed Jeff was safe, exempt from Sheelin O’Keefe’s prophecy, or she never would have agreed to marry him. His death was her fault—she knew that. If the century-old family ranch went bankrupt, that would be her fault, as well. His stepmother, who’d moved to Tucson to be with her widowed sister, depended on the money Siobhan sent her every month. And his sister, Jacy, who lived in one of the stone cottages on the property, had a small trust fund linked to the profits of the ranch, as well.

  Finished with the dressing, she stood and rubbed Garnet in her sweet spots—nose, ears, chest. “Hey, my beautiful girl,” she murmured. Garnet was beautiful, both in conformation and in color. She was a deep blood bay, her coat a shade darker than Siobhan’s long hair, which waterfalled over her shoulder from a clip. “You’ll soon be good as new, girl, I promise.”

  The mare snorted and pushed her nose against Siobhan’s chest. Smiling, Siobhan pressed her forehead to the old mare’s and inhaled her distinctive scent all mixed up with the odor of fresh hay. The mare snorted and Siobhan picked up on a memory—their first ride across Atkinson land together. She could “see” the canyon walls and rims laced with stands of juniper and big piñon pine trees. She could “feel” the wind whipping through the canyons, ruffling Garnet’s mane.

  Siobhan had always had this connection with horses. Communicating. Reading their emotions and memories. A McKenna gift, her mother had explained. Not that all McKennas had the horse connection. Not Mom, who raised and trained horses, nor her brother, Daire. Nor her cousin and best friend Aislinn. But apparently there were other McKennas with a similar gift. And others with very different psychic abilities.

  The mare suddenly jerked upright and hit the side of Siobhan’s head. Her chest tightened. Flipping around, her hair suddenly flying around her as the clip fell to the stable floor, she saw Jacy in the entry. Her sister-in-law reminded Siobhan of Jeff…reminded her of her guilt. Not that the siblings looked anything alike other than being tall—Jacy was pale-skinned and naturally blonde while Jeff had been ruddy complected and dark-haired.

  “Looking for me?” Siobhan asked.

  “Not me. Early. He stopped by to see you again. I told him you were busy tending to an injured horse. He tried insisting on coming to the barn to help you, but I got him to stay put. He’ll get itchy feet fast, though.”

  Siobhan sighed as she stooped to retrieve the hair clip. Broken. She threw it in a waste bin. How would she put the good-humored neighboring rancher off yet again without hurting his feelings?

  Reluctantly, she said, “Then I suppose I should go talk to him.”

  She gave Garnet a last pat, left the stall and latched the gate, then started for the house, Jacy at her side.

  “Early doesn’t really want you, you know,” Jacy said, her long legs easily keeping her astride with the shorter Siobhan. “He wants the Double JA. No offense.”

  Used to Jacy’s outspokenness, Siobhan said, “None taken.”

  Though she was pretty sure Early Farnum wanted both her and the property packaged together.

  She spotted the rancher leaning against his big dark blue SUV. Not bad-looking, fit from hard work, Early was in his late forties, as his salt-and-pepper hair attested. Nearly double her age. Nearly old enough to be her father, something she’d never had. He owned the largest ranch in the area since he’d picked up a couple of neighboring properties in the past few years. The economy might be bad for most everyone else, but Early Farnum seemed to have deep pockets. There were rumors about a silent partner.

  “I need to shower and change,” Jacy said. “I’m going to town for an early dinner.”

  “A date? I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

  “Raul Galvan.”

  “The state senator?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. So you don’t mind if I go shower, right?”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t need protection,” Siobhan said. Jacy rarely dated and Siobhan thought it was about time she found someone serious. “Early’s harmless. Go.”

  Jacy ran off in the direction of her cottage, which lay out of sight of the main house. Siobhan headed for the man.

  Early Farnum stood with the afternoon sun hammering down on him as if he owned it. Early’s sense of entitlement was not his most attractive feature, and it kept Siobhan from being warmer to the man. She’d never been fooled about his intentions. He’d been attentive and overly concerned for her since Jeff’s death, but from the first, she’d sensed his interest in the ranch was part of that entitlement issue. Maybe as was his interest in her. He’d asked her out on a date only once, however, for she’d quickly informed him that she was in mourning for her late husband.

  So now he made various excuses to visit and take up her time, in hopes, she supposed, that with persistence, he would eventually win her over.

  “Early, how are you?”

  “Better now that you’re here.”

  “I’m the antidote to something?” she joked.

  “Loneliness,” he said, then raised his hands before she could protest. “Now don’t get ornery on me. I’m here to see you about the civic meeting in Soledad tomorrow night,” he said of the closest town.

  “I heard they were going to address uranium mining in this area.” An important issue, to be certain. She probably ought to be there.

  Hearing another vehicle, she darted a look to the drive to see a black pickup truck on its way.

  But Early’s saying “I figure if you’re going, you could use a ride to town” brought her attention back to him.

  If only she could get out of it without just saying no. “Early, that’s kind of you, but if I’m going into town, I’ll want to run some other errands.”

  “I can wait for you, Siobhan. No trouble.”

  Hearing a door slam, she looked over Early’s shoulder as a man alighted, the blazing sun in her eyes keeping her from seeing more than dark glasses, a black-brimmed hat and an athletic body encased in black jeans and a black T-shirt.

  An errant breeze licked her and she shook off a sudden chill. Now what?

  Surely no other bad news about the ranch.

  Pulse fluttering, she turned back to Early, saying, “Look, I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “No problem. I’m in no hurry.”

  Siobhan simply didn’t see a way out of it without being rude. “Then I guess it’s a go.”

  “Great. I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty sharp.”

  “Make it seven.” She really did have some errands to run. Maybe she could manage it before the meeting.

  Early grinned and backed off toward his vehicle. “More time to spend with you.”

  Siobhan managed a half smile
as the rancher climbed in and started his engine. Only as the SUV slid away from her did she realize the stranger was standing just out of her line of sight. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as she turned to face him.

  Suddenly her world shifted as she got an up-close and personal look at the man who was no stranger. He didn’t remove the sunglasses, but he tipped his brimmed hat back on his head. Her stomach tightened as she took in what she could see of him. Broad cheekbones…rugged jawline…straight blade of a nose. Her breath shortened and she had trouble getting enough air. She couldn’t see his eyes, though, not hidden as they were behind those dark lenses.

  “Clay Salazar!” she gasped out, wishing she had something to hang on to so she could steady herself.

  And then he said, “Hello, Siobhan.” His deep, whiskey-laced voice still had the power to curl around her heart and through her insides.

  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. To his oh-so-familiar lips now set in a hard, straight line. Totally unlike him, at least with her. That wasn’t the only thing different. The connection she’d always sensed when she got close to Clay was missing.

  Was it him, because he had changed? Or was it her? What if she touched him? Would she feel it then?

  She couldn’t think clearly.

  Couldn’t speak.

  Couldn’t breathe.

  “Nothing to say to me?” he asked, his jaw as tight as his lips.

  And even when her head went light and her knees suddenly felt as though they were made of rubber…still no connection. It made her want to reach out, flesh to flesh, to see if it was really gone—which would be good for her, she told herself. But she couldn’t let what she was feeling show, couldn’t let Clay think she needed him again.

  So instead of giving him a warm greeting, instead of touching him as she itched to do, instead of doing any of the things her heart told her to do, she demanded, “Of all people…what the heck are you doing here?”

  Chapter Two

  Clay felt his spine straighten as he took in the woman who’d once held his heart in her hands. Same wide-spaced green eyes and full, wide mouth in a heart-shaped face surrounded by masses of fiery dark hair.

  What wasn’t the same was her closed-off expression, something she’d adopted that day nearly five years ago when she’d told him she couldn’t be with him anymore.

  “Nice greeting for an old friend, Siobhan.”

  As if with great effort, she straightened, too. He’d forgotten how tall she was. Her eyes were nearly level with his. No longer a coltish teenager, she was all woman, with a woman’s full hips and thighs and breasts—voluptuous enough to fill a man’s arms.

  And his dreams.

  Siobhan took a big breath and crossed her arms in front of her breasts as though protecting herself. Her color was high, her reddened cheeks and hair a vivid contrast to her turquoise shirt. “I didn’t mean it to put you off.”

  Liar, he thought.

  Why so defensive? Because he’d walked in on her arranging a date with a man old enough to be her father and her husband barely cold in the ground? Just thinking about it made him want to grab her by the shoulders and squeeze some sense into her, but he was determined not to so much as touch her lest the past return to burn him again.

  “How did you mean it, then?”

  “I was just surprised, is all.” Her forehead furrowed. “So what are you doing here?” What was he doing here? Looking at her made him forget everything but their past for a moment.

  He remembered days…weeks…months of being happy, of having a reason to get up in the morning because he knew he would see her.

  He remembered that happiness being jerked away from him in an instant when she’d sent him away because of some supposed family curse.

  He remembered the darkness that had followed until he’d found a new path that had given him deeper understanding and control under the guidance of his grandfather.

  Then he got hold of himself. How someone in this modern day and age could be superstitious was beyond him, but it was no longer his problem. None of this was—he was just being a good citizen.

  “Is there someplace we can talk?”

  “This is as good a place as any.”

  She was nervous around him. The slight tic at the corner of her right eye gave her away.

  Clay scowled but didn’t argue.

  He eased into the subject. “So how many cow-calf units are you running?”

  “This year? Nearly three hundred. And we have a dozen bulls and as many horses.”

  “Quite a spread.”

  Siobhan nodded and dropped her gaze. “Not that I can take credit for anything other than trying to maintain what Jeff put in motion.”

  Running a ranch this size was a big undertaking for someone with little on-the-job experience. She’d grown up on a horse ranch, not a cow-calf operation.

  “Don’t undersell yourself.”

  Her head whipped back up. “If memory serves, that was your problem, not mine.”

  Disliking the reminder, Clay scowled and took a deliberate step closer. Part of him wanting to take her in his arms—not that he would. “What else do you remember?”

  Siobhan’s mouth opened into a perfect bow. For a moment, she froze, seemingly unable to speak.

  Then a slight intake of breath and she said, “Truthfully? I remember more than I want to.” And again she asked, “Why are you here, Clay?”—this time with impatience lacing her tone.

  Clay gritted his teeth. He’d come for her, but she was making it impossible for him to admit as much.

  So instead he took on an official tone. “I’m on staff working with horses and inmates at High Desert Correctional Center—”

  “I know.”

  He faltered for a second, then figured the word probably spread like all other news did. Not much other than gossip to entertain people in the area.

  “I caught a bit of a conversation between two inmates yesterday,” he went on. “Something about the Double JA going down fast.”

  “Is that all?”

  “Isn’t it enough?” He stared at Siobhan. She didn’t sound surprised and she wasn’t denying it. Had her troubles already begun? “They tried to make it sound like casual conversation, but there’s nothing casual about anything Paco Vargas contemplates. He’s trouble, and if he’s interested in your ranch, there’s a purpose behind that interest.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. So why are you here, Clay?” she demanded.

  “I thought you might want to know you’re in danger.” Was she being purposely dense…or was she trying to make him feel foolish so he would hightail it out of there? “It’s my responsibility as a member of the High Desert Correctional Center staff to—”

  “To warn people personally?”

  “I don’t know people,” he said, forgetting his resolve and reaching out to lift a curl of her hair with one finger. “I know you.”

  Siobhan blinked. The skin between her brows furrowed and she slapped away his hand. “You think the ranch is in some kind of danger, then?”

  “Paco Vargas is involved, so you bet.” His hand burned where she’d smacked it, but that was not why he regretted his action. Despite his good sense, it made him want more.

  “What can this Paco Vargas do when he’s incarcerated?” Siobhan asked.

  “Actually, he’s being released today. He said when he got out he’d be looking for work on a ranch.”

  “Well, you’ve given me your warning, so thanks.”

  He couldn’t believe she was being so casual with the information, as if she were simply anxious for him to leave. “What are you going to do about it?” he demanded, quickly invading her personal space.

  She backed up a step and shrugged. “I won’t hire him. Okay?”

  “That’s it?”

  “What else do you expect me to do, Clay?” she asked, suddenly defiant with her hands on her hips. “Have a hissy fit or faint out of fear? Or do you want to see me turn tail and sell the place?�
�� Her voice rose, her words sped up. “Well, I won’t do either of those things. I have a responsibility to this ranch, to my late husband’s legacy and his stepmother and sister who depend on the profits to live. I intend to keep this operation from going under no matter what gets thrown at me! If you have something else you want to share with me, something perhaps more specific about what you think might happen to the ranch or to me, then speak up.”

  Her sudden outburst shocked Clay into a moment of silence. So his warning came after the fact. He could tell she was already in trouble. Why else would she have such a defensive attitude?

  “I don’t have specifics, but my gut is rarely wrong.”

  “Again, I thank you for thinking of me,” she said, her voice calming, “but now I need to get back to work. You’ll have to leave.”

  With that she spun on her boot heel and headed for the house.

  And Clay stood watching her for a moment, unable to rip his gaze from her retreating figure, mesmerized by the fiery hair billowing down her back, the full jean-clad hips sashaying away from him. Seeing her so riled churned up memories that burned him through and through. She’d always been so certain of herself, even in high school where they’d met, so certain she could handle anything. Anything but them and the McKenna legacy she so feared.

  Clay stood there feeling impotent as he watched her open the door and disappear inside. He’d come to offer Siobhan help, but when push came to shove, he’d backed down. Again.

  He wasn’t done. Not this time. This time he wouldn’t walk away as she demanded, not when his gut told him she was in big trouble.

  He’d leave—for now—but he’d find out what had been going on at the Double JA.

  Then he’d be back.

  FROM THE SHELTER OF THE curtain in the front window, Siobhan watched Clay get into his truck and drive away. Her pulse was still racing and her chest was still tight. But was it because of Clay or because of his warning? Maybe both. Was Clay correct? Did someone have it in for her?

  Was that why so many things had been going wrong on the ranch lately?