Always Remember (15 page)

In the corral, the horse neighed softly and bumped Nate under the chin. Soft black eyes followed his movements as he stepped around to the horses’ flank, stuck his foot in the stirrup, and mounted. As he wrapped the leather reins around his hand and made a fist, the muscles of his arm flexed with tension.

A second passed, a moment of intense quiet when even the birds stopped chirping. An instant of pure agony as rider and horse appeared frozen in time. A moment of hope that the stallion might forgo the opportunity to match wits against Nate. Then Diablo kicked his hind legs back and the fury erupted.

Fingers gripping the edge of the fence, Jessie watched the stallion storm the confines of the corral, bucking and heaving and jarring his rider with a ferocity that reminded her of a tornado. Clinging to the saddle horn and the reins, Nate flew into the air once and came back down, colliding with the saddle only to be thrown into the air again and again. Each painful jolt, every bone jarring connection with the saddle that must have ripped through Nate’s body vibrated through her own.

Oh God, why hadn’t she stopped him when she’d had the chance? Why didn’t someone stop him now?

Jessie unlatched the gate at the same moment Diablo dislodged his rider. Nate flew through the air like a rag doll, landed on his back with a thud, and lay spread-eagled on the hoof-packed ground. Ranch hands rushed forward, Hale leading the pack, everyone waving their arms and shouting to distract the stallion. Jessie yanked open the gate and ran, dropping to her knees at Nate’s side.

He looked dead. Still and lifeless and pale as a ghost. His beloved face was streaked with sweat and dust. Panic raced through her. “Somebody call a doctor.”

“Already called George,” Sam said. He slid to his knees beside her, laid his gnarled old fingers against Nate’s shoulder, and proceeded to make a survey of his bone structure.

Sara dropped to the ground across from them, her worried gaze flitting from her dad, to Sam, to Jessie, then back to her dad again. “How bad is it? Is he still breathing?”

“Yep, sweetie, he still is. Boy’s gonna regret this foolishness come morning, though.” His forehead furrowed with concentration, Sam completed his survey of Nate’s frame, then felt his skull. “No broken bones this time. Got hisself a nasty bump on the head though. Musta cut hisself on a pebble or something.”

He pulled his hand away from the back of Nate’s head and held his bloodied fingertips out for inspection. Sara swallowed and scrambled to her feet, her face pale beneath the early spring tan. “Want me to get Harley? I can stay with Maude.”

“Naw, honey. Your daddy’s gonna be just fine.” Sam straightened slowly, his bones creaking with the effort to unbend his frame as he watched the girl, a frown gnarling his brow. “You don’t look so well yourself. Maybe you oughta put your head between your legs before you end up on the ground beside him.”

She wrapped her arms around her middle, her voice strangled, choking. “I’m okay.”

But she wasn’t, Jessie thought as she noticed the girl’s trembling fingers, the constriction in her throat as she apparently tried to hold down whatever she’d had for breakfast. Instinct brought Jessie halfway to her feet when a groan sounded from the ground. She forgot about the girl, the stallion being led away, her dad standing near her shoulder as Nate opened his eyes.

He was alive, conscious, and she was here, close enough to touch him again, smart enough to realize their short time together was incredibly precious.

“Jess?”

She grabbed his hand and pressed it between her breasts. “I’m here.”

“Jess?” His pupils were dilated, slow to focus.

“What?” His eyelids drifted shut and a moment of blind panic washed through her as she lifted her gaze from his face. “Dad?”

The merest hint of a smile turned up the corners of Sam’s mouth. “This boy ain’t gonna leave you, girl. Haven’t I told you that before?”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

You gonna make me an offer I can’t refuse?

You’ll still be here when I wake up, won’t you, Jess? I want to know whether or not it’ll be worth waking up.

You better keep your word this time, woman.

Peeling his eyes open, Nate raised his head off the ground. Pain spiked behind his eyes. He let his head bounce back against the dirt, a groan escaping from between the tight clench of his teeth. “What happened?”

“Nothing that ain’t happened before, boy.”

Oh, yeah, Diablo.

Biting back another groan, he struggled to keep his eyes open. Cool hands brushed across the heat of his skin — gentle, loving, missed.
Jessie.
Despite the spots dancing before his eyes, he attempted to focus on the blurry image beside him, on the shiny highlights in her hair, and the unusually pale shade of her face. “Figured you’d be long gone by now, sweetheart.”

She leaned across him, checking the side of his head. A silky strand of hair brushed across his cheek. Catching the scent of shampoo and soap, he closed his eyes and inhaled.

“And miss the show? No, way, cowboy. I wanted to see if you’d improved any since we were kids.”

Fingers prodded at his scalp. Pain exploded in his head. He shoved her hand away and pushed up on one elbow. Ignoring the blackness engulfing his vision and thoughts, he forced himself to concentrate on her. “What’s the verdict?”

“You’re still lousy at it.”

Around the dark edges of his vision, he fixed on her words, detected concern in her voice. For him? Maybe he’d thumped his head harder than he thought.

“You could have been killed, you know.”

He shrugged and struggled to sit up, moved his head side to side, tried to concentrate on the shadowy outline of Jessie’s shape. It wavered and faded away. “Diablo and I have a deal. I told you about the deal, didn’t I?”

“If you ask me, it’s not a very good one.”

“Dad?”

Sara?
He turned his head to locate her and swallowed down the nausea churning in his stomach. What was she doing home? She wasn’t supposed to return till Jessie was long gone.

Oh, yeah. She’d come with the reporter last night, ignoring his orders to stay in Jasper. When had he lost control of his little angel?

The familiar silhouette came into focus — tall for a girl, slim and leggy like her mother. Despite the pounding in his head, or maybe because of it, a wicked sense of getting even, of giving her a that’ll-teach-you-a-lesson washed over him. “Do I know you?”

Hugging her arms around her middle, Sara shifted from foot to foot. “Uh...yeah, Dad. Remember? Pain-in-the-butt daughter?”

“Daughter?” He attempted to fix his attention on her, struggled to see past the blurry image before his eyes. “Nope. I’d remember a daughter if I had one.”

“Dad.” Her voice dripped with exasperation. “Jasper, remember? You sent me on that stupid ski trip. I came home last night. Without your permission, I might add. You grounded me till I turned thirty.”

Bones creaking, Sam crouched down and held his hand in front of Nate’s face. “How many fingers?”

“One? Five?” He pushed Sam’s hand away, annoyance mingling with the fear. “I’m fine. Do George a big favor and tell him to stay in town.”

Nate clambered to his feet. Stars filled his vision, rushed through his brain. Before he toppled face flat on the ground, somebody grabbed him, drawing his arm across sturdy shoulders.

“You almost had him this time, sir.”

“Hale?” He leaned heavily on the boy, his vision clearing again.
Okay. That hurt. No more sudden moves.
“So, what’s the score, son?”

“Diablo five. Coltrane zip.”

“Damn.”

“Dad?”

Nate focused on Sara, on the worry furrowing her brow, on her nervous movements as she continued to shift from one foot to the other. Well, might as well say hello. Tomorrow, when his thoughts were clearer, he’d figure out a way to deal with her unexpected arrival and the unlikely possibility he’d come out of this situation with his life intact.

“Come to think of it, I did have a sweet little girl once. What did you do with her?” He lifted one arm, gesturing her forward before she could answer. “Come here, pain-in-the-butt.”

Sara ran toward him, threw her arms around his neck, and buried her head against his shoulder, like when she was five and she’d wake up with a nightmare. Nate held her close and savored the moment, knowing there wouldn’t be too many more years before he’d take second place in her life, then third and fourth as she fell in love, married, and had a family of her own.

“Not funny, Dad.”

The scent of baby powder teased his memories. He held her close and pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Neither was showing up in the middle of the night when I wasn’t expecting you.”

She lifted her head and studied him, her gaze penetrating, ambiguous. What was going on inside her head? Did he really want to know? His life right now was unsteady enough without tossing Sara into the mix.

“I know. But I had a really good reason.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you did, squirt.” Through the haze in front of his eyes, he studied her. “I’m listening.”

“It’s okay, Dad. It’ll wait till later when you’re feeling better.”

Sam swung open the gate, drawing Sara’s attention. Thank goodness. Scrambled brains and Sara’s untimely return mixed about as well as water and oil.

“Enough lollygagging. Better get him to the house before he falls on his face.”

“Hey, I can still stand on my own two feet.” Just to prove he could, he stepped away from Sara and Hale and, swaying slightly back and forth, tried to glare at Sam. “Do you want to race, old man?”

Sam shook his head, turned his back, and left the corral. “I got better things to do than babysit a fool. Better get him up to the house and keep him quiet and warm till the doc arrives.”

Jessie stepped into his field of vision. If she’d been wearing sunglasses, he might have believed the angry purse of her lips. But without the dark glasses to shield her eyes, she failed to hide her fear. Nate couldn’t resist teasing her, maybe coaxing a smile from her somber expression. “Want to tuck me in?”

Heat rushed into her cheeks and her gaze skittered from Sara to Hale and back. “I’m kinda of the same mind as Dad.”

She started walking away. Feeling reckless, Nate took a step to follow her. His knees buckled, his legs gave way, and he pitched head first toward the dirt. Hale caught him before he landed on his head and, with Sara’s help, held him up.

Spots. Those damn spots were back. Nate blinked and forced a grin as the contents of his stomach heaved, then settled. “Aw, come on, Jess. I could die waiting for George. You can’t put that kind of responsibility on these two kids.”

Hands on hips, long legs spread in a stubborn stance, she faced him. He squinted, tried to bring her into focus, but everything turned topsy-turvy as the ground swayed below his feet. Swallowing back the bile in his throat, he leaned heavily on Hale for support.

Damn. He should have swept her into his arms, carried her up to bed, and made love to her till he got her out of his system instead of taking his frustrations out on the back of Diablo. But what if that still wasn’t enough?

“Hale?” Jessie’s voice sounded hollow, like she was calling the boy through a long tunnel. “Maybe we should let Diablo finish the job. Put the man out of
our
misery.”

Against his side, Sara’s frame shook with repressed laughter. “We won’t have to, Miss Adams. George’ll do it for us.”

George.

Nate’s stomach rolled and threatened to embarrass him further.

Yeah, George’d make sure he didn’t leave his bed for at least a week or more. And if Jessie joined him there, he wouldn’t have a single thing to worry about. Only problem was, he didn’t have the legs to chase her down.

CHAPTER TWENTY

By the time Sara and Hale got Nate up the stairs and into bed, the fear pounding in Jessie’s heart had diminished to an unsteady beat. She stayed away from the center of activity and sat in the old armchair she used to curl up in with Nate when they were studying together. She had to be crazy for sticking around, getting involved.

The decisions she’d made had vanished along with the barricades around her heart. The urge to sit by Nate’s side, to hold his hand while he slept, to wash the dirt from his face, and kiss away every bruised and aching spot on his body, kept her rooted to the chair. Neither of them needed more heartache in their lives. A quick affair was all he’d suggested.

Did he really believe he could keep his heart untangled? Give her up without a backward glance when it was time for her to leave? She knew she couldn’t. Yet the simple pleasure of being in his arms again, loving him, being loved by him was too tempting to push aside.

Downstairs, the doorbell rang, the screen door squeaked open and banged shut. Footsteps clomped across the kitchen floor and up the stairs. Then George loomed in the doorway, his shoulders squared, his sandy blonde hair raked back from his face, his glaring gaze magnified by a pair of thick-lensed glasses.

“Did he kill himself this time?”

Sara slid off the edge of the bed to her feet. “He fell on his head again.”

“Probably what saved him,” George muttered as he approached the bed.

Hale edged closer, shot a swift glance toward Sara, and stopped beside her. Their shoulders connected for a moment, and even from her spot on the opposite side of the room, Jessie felt the electricity hum between them. The look they exchanged, full of intimacy and guilt, heightened her curiosity.

How old was the girl? In her early twenties?

George set his bag on the bedside table. “Did anyone talk to him?”

Jessie pulled her attention from the girl and watched George make a survey of his patient’s bone structure. “We all did.”

“How did he sound?”

Sara snorted. “Like he scrambled his brains again.”

His pupils magnified by the thick lenses, George fixed his gaze on her. “Was his speech slurred? Did he sound fairly rational?”

Jessie nodded. “He seemed aware of what was going on around him. He certainly recognized everyone.”

“How was his balance?”

“Uncoordinated. He needed support to get to the house.”