The Rancher's Wife (5 page)

“Are you okay?” Logan reached for her injured hand.

“I'm fine,” she choked.

She drew her throbbing fingers to her chest, cradling them and gritting her teeth.

“Let me see.” Logan's brow creased and he tugged at her wrist.

“It's fine,” she bit out, stifling a grimace. “He skimmed me.”

The kicking stopped. Amy glanced up as the strong pull and push of Thunder's heaving breaths grew close. His broad head appeared against the bars. A savage scar stretched across his chiseled face and down his muscular neck. Amy winced at his glare, the whites of his eyes stark against the wide and wild depths of his pupils.

“He's been through a lot,” Logan said. “It's changed him. In the beginning, I thought there was still a chance I could bring him around. But I lost his trust along the way. I'm out of options. I have to put him down.”

“No,” she whispered.

Thunder's lips drew back and he cried, the sharp sound screeching through the air and splitting her ears. He slammed his front hooves against the door then jerked away to pace the stall, his pained cries turning fierce.

Amy's legs shook. She bent carefully to gather up the contents of her purse. Shoving the scattered items back inside, she caught sight of the bundle of crumpled divorce papers. She snatched them up and drove them deep into her purse.

Metal clanked as Thunder dove forward and butted the stall door with his head. Eyes flaring, he fixed his gaze to hers and stared deep, tearing past the layers of her polished appearance and creeping beneath her skin. He jerked his head, screaming louder and kicking harder.

Amy choked back a sob and shoved to her feet. Logan was right. Thunder wasn't the same. But to consider ending his life...

“You can't put him down, Logan,” she said, turning away and stumbling on the loose heel of her shoe. “Not without giving him a fair shot.”

Logan held her arms and steadied her. “I have. Nothing has worked. He's a danger to himself and the other horses and he's especially aggressive around the boys. There's not one single rehabilitation outfit willing to relocate him after laying eyes on him.” He sighed. “I can't, in good conscience, allow him to exist in fear and isolation with no quality of life. I'm sorry. There's nothing else that can be done.”

Amy ducked her burning face. “That's not true,” she said, pushing past him. “There's always a way.”

The urge to return to Thunder was strong. To stay at his side, try to coax his spirit back and give him a fighting chance. But that would mean staying. And it was time to move on.

She dragged her purse strap back onto her shoulder and brushed at her clothes. But even though the creases in the material released, the guilt remained. It clung to her skin and clogged her throat, suffocating her. Just as it had every day for the past four years.

Her steps slowed, legs stilling of their own accord. She cast one last look at Thunder's violent attack on the stall. “Surely, there's something you can d—”

Thunder's screech overtook her voice, the words dying on her lips.

“He fought hard to survive, Amy.” Logan's expression turned grim, his thumb spinning the ring on his finger. “But, sometimes, that's just not enough.”

She spun, taking swift strides out of the stable and away from the stallion's broken state. She'd worked hard to survive, too. And she couldn't gamble the new life she'd fought for to recapture a past full of failures and sins.

Logan's eyes bored into her back. Amy hurried up the hill, thighs burning. Thunder's painful cries lingered on the air, hovering around her and haunting the path to the main house.

Chapter Three

“Hold on to your heart, girl.”

Amy whispered the words and pressed her fingertips to the cold metal of Logan's truck. By the time she'd made her way back from the stables, the sun had disappeared and night had settled in. The full moon and stars cast a hazy glow over the surrounding fields, lengthening the shadows stretching from the fences and barn.

She grazed her throbbing knuckles over the ring hidden beneath her collar and grimaced, recalling the band on Logan's hand. Her chest tightened. She shook her head, reached into the bed of Logan's truck and hefted out one of her black bags.

“Here.” Logan's chest brushed her back. He reached around her for the bag, his fingers brushing hers. “Let me.”

“I've got it.”

Amy hoisted the bag and leaned over to retrieve the second one. Logan scooped it up first. He flicked the cuff of his flannel shirt back and examined the glowing hands of his wristwatch.

“It's almost six,” he said. “We better get a move on.”

He led the way up the drive toward the main house, the strong line of his back and lean jean-clad hips moving with confidence. Amy's belly fluttered. She tore her eyes away and surveyed the entrance to the main house which was bathed in the soft glow of the porch lights.

Massive mahogany doors were adorned with lush green wreaths and red ribbons. The colorful cheer extended beyond the wreaths to the crimson ribbon wrapped around the large columns. Poinsettia blooms nestled in the nooks and crannies of the railing lining the porch and the warm glow emanating from inside the house enhanced the twinkling of the white lights draping the posts and eaves.

Christmas
. Amy's steps faltered on the slippery ground. It'd been so long since she'd spent the holidays at home with family. Since she'd left Raintree, the color and comfort of Christmas had faded and the holiday had contorted into a pale passing of a day. A low and lifeless one she'd grown accustomed to spending alone.

Amy swallowed the lump in her throat and strived for a light tone. “Why are all the decorations out already? Mama used to say it was a sin to put up Christmas lights before Thanksgiving was over.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, his words reaching her in puffy, white drifts. “I imagine Betty was beside herself last night when we didn't make it back like we'd planned. She probably got overanxious and decided to keep herself busy.”

Amy smiled. Next to cooking, her mother's second favorite pastime was decorating. Not a single holiday passed without Betty celebrating it in style.

“Betty knows how much you used to love Christmas at Raintree.” Logan waited for her to reach his side, his big palm wrapping around her upper arm to assist her up the steps. “She wants to make this visit perfect for you. We all do.”

Amy's blood rushed at the husky note in his voice and she curled her fingers around the handle of her bag, tamping down the urge to lean in to him.

Hold on to your heart
. This time, she wouldn't mistake friendship for love. What she felt for Logan was old-fashioned lust and misguided hero worship. She'd do well to remember that.

A loud jingle sounded, both wreaths swinging on their doors as a small figure burst out of the house.

“Amy.”

Betty's red bangs ruffled in the night breeze, her green eyes glistening with moisture.

Amy's vision blurred. “Hi, Mama.”

She drew her bag in against her thigh and dipped toward the floor of the porch, the length of her limbs becoming awkward. Betty's short stature had always made Amy wither, trying not to loom over her.

Betty's warm palms cradled her cool cheeks then traveled down her arms to caress her wrists. She gently lifted Amy's arms out to the side, trailing her gaze from the top of her head to the tips of her shoes.

“You look beautiful. I think you grew another inch since I saw you last. You're just as tall as your father was.” Betty dabbed at the corners of her eyes and smiled. “I'm so glad you came home.” She stretched up on her tiptoes, her kiss grazing the curve of Amy's jaw. “I've missed my sweet girl.”

“I've missed you, too.”

Much more than she'd realized. Amy wrapped her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. The rich scent of cinnamon and butter lingered on Betty's white chef's apron, releasing in sweet puffs with each of Amy's squeezes.

Amy giggled and nuzzled her cheek against Betty's silken hair. “You smell like cookies.”

“That's because I've been baking your favorite ones all afternoon.”

“Cinnamon and sugar?”

“Stacked a mile high,” Betty said, laughing. She released Amy and tugged at Logan's shoulders, kissing his cheek when he bent his head. “Thank you for bringing her home safely, Logan. I was worried the storm would keep you from making it.”

“You think we'd let a bit of ice keep us from your cooking?” A crooked grin broke out across Logan's face and his dark eyes sparkled. “Not a chance.”

Betty patted his broad chest, her smile widening. “I made your favorites, too. The green bean casserole and sweet potato soufflé are ready and waiting.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Let's get inside. It's too chilly out here for comfort.”

Logan nudged the small of Amy's back, spurring her step on. She followed Betty's jubilant advance into the cheery interior of the house and found the spacious foyer as warm and welcoming as it'd been in the past. The rich grain of the hardwood floors gleamed, several coats hung from a hall tree bench by the entrance and festive garlands draped elegantly from each banister of the winding staircase.

The low rumble of voices, children laughing and silverware clinking sounded from a large room on the right. Two teenage girls dressed in green-and-black chef uniforms strolled by carting pitchers of iced tea and water.

“You've hired some help, I see,” Amy said, noting the girls' bright smiles and energetic expressions.

Betty nodded. “Raintree has done well the last two years. We've had to renovate the family floor and expand to accommodate more guests.” Her eyes brightened. “Logan and Cissy started an apprenticeship program for high school students last year. We have positions for students interested in culinary arts and equine management and the school gives them class credit on a work-based learning program. The kids learn and make money at the same time. And, believe me, those teenagers are a Godsend in the kitchen around the holidays.” She smirked. “Wish I could get your sister to peel potatoes as willingly as they do.”

Amy laughed. “I'd pay good money to see that.”

She glanced at Logan, warming at his lopsided grin. It was reminiscent of him as a teenager. Even then, he'd taken an eager interest in the business side of Raintree and had been determined to build it into a successful guest ranch. From the looks of things, he'd succeeded.

“Seems you're doing a great job managing Raintree,” she said. “You must be proud.”

Logan shrugged. “It was mostly Cissy's doing. She and the twins didn't have much when Dom brought them to Raintree, and she knows how some families struggle. She wanted local kids to have as many opportunities as possible to succeed.” His smile widened. “Dom's even getting in on the action. He's trying to talk a friend into partnering so he can offer bull riding clinics.”

Amy smiled. “That's wonderful.”

The warmth in Logan's smile traveled upward to pool in his black eyes. The pleased gleam in them calmed her pulse and parted her lips. Lord, how she'd missed him. Missed talking to him, sharing dreams and celebrating successes. She missed her best friend.

“There's our girl,” a deep voice rumbled.

Amy spun, a giggle escaping her as a tall, gray-haired man approached. Tate Slade, Logan's father, had always held a special place in her heart. Having lost her dad to a heart attack at age seven, Amy had found a second father in Tate—or Pop, as everyone called him—as soon as they arrived at Raintree. His familiar gait and handsome smile provoked a fresh surge of tears. Pop pulled her close for a gentle hug and she pressed her cheek to his broad chest.

“It's so good to have you home for a while,” Pop murmured.

“I'm glad to be back.”

He kissed her forehead, stepped back and nodded at Logan. “You made it back right on time. The guests have already settled in for Thanksgiving dinner and Betty has almost finished setting up the family table.”

Logan slipped the bag from Amy's shoulder. “I'll get Amy set up in a room and we'll be there in a minute.

“Don't think that's possible.” Pop hesitated, splaying his hands. “A lot of guests missed their flights yesterday because of the storm. We've had to extend their stays and ended up with double bookings. Everything's packed tight. Except for y'all's—” he winced, nodding at Logan “—I mean, your room.”

Logan flushed. His knuckles tightened around the handles of the bags and he shifted from foot to foot. Betty fidgeted with the hem of her apron and Pop studied the toes of his boots. The silence lengthened and Amy's heart ached at the awkward discomfort.

Logan cleared his throat. “I'll stay in one of the bunkhouses. You can have my room.”

“Thank you, Logan.” Amy rubbed her clammy palms over her pants legs and forced a smile. “Mama, how about I help you finish setting the table while Logan puts my bags up?”

Betty's face creased with relief. “Perfect. I'll go get Cissy. It's high time the two of you met.”

“And I'll round up the boys.” Pop winked as he left. “Lord knows where they are.”

Amy started toward the kitchen, faltering when Logan gripped her arm.

“You've got to tell her about the move...”

“I will.” Amy sighed, a sharp pain settling behind her eyes. “But I'm not going to spring it on her this second.” She rubbed her brow with her fingertips. “I'll tell her later. At a better time. Let's just have a pleasant dinner for now, okay?”

She pulled away and headed down the hall. Her gut churned at the thought of telling her mother and sister about moving so far away. The last thing she wanted to do was upset anyone during her first visit home in ages. But, eventually, there'd be no way around it.

The light aroma of cinnamon enveloped Amy as she entered Raintree's large kitchen. She inhaled, pulling in a lungful of the familiar scent. A red platter piled high with cookies sat on the edge of the kitchen island and her mouth watered.

Out of habit, Amy snuck a look over her shoulder at the empty doorway, half expecting Betty to spring into the room and shoo her away. As kids, she and Traci had never been successful at snagging a cookie before dinner without Betty pointing a finger and ushering them out. She smiled and made her way over to the cookies.

She reached out and stopped, hand hovering in midair. Small, grubby fingers fumbled over the pile of sugar cookies. Mud-streaked fingertips curled around the edge of one and tugged it toward the edge of the plate.

Amy leaned over and found the top of a blond head pressed below the edge of the counter. The head swiveled and deep blue eyes widened up at her in shock. She bit back her grin and narrowed her eyes, taking in his features. Could be Kayden. But the twins were so similar in appearance it was hard to be sure.

“Shhh,” the boy whispered. “Don't tell.”

“Boys.” A short woman with blond hair peeked around the door and leveled a stern expression across the room. “Stop that and get over here.”

The boy jumped, his head banging into the edge of the counter. He jerked his hand from the cookies and several scattered to the floor. Another blond head shot up from the other side of the island. This one was definitely Kayden. He sported the same cavalier expression he'd displayed earlier when Logan had chastised him. The boys stood together, Jayden with a bowed head and Kayden with raised brows.

“What'd we do, Aunt Cissy?” Kayden asked, a dab of red cinnamon icing smudged across his cheek.

“You know very well what you did,” she said. “Now, get those cookies up and go wash your hands. You're about to eat supper.”

The boys groaned but complied, gathering up the broken cookies and tossing them in the trash.

The woman winced and shot Amy a rueful smile. “Sorry about that. Those two are always looking for trouble. You must be Amy. I'm so glad to finally meet you. I'm Cissy, Dom's wife.”

Cissy entered the kitchen, stepping carefully and pressing a palm to the blue sweater stretched across her heavily pregnant belly. Amy froze. Her eyes clung to the roundness of Cissy's midsection and her arms drew in against the flat emptiness of her own. Weight dragged at her legs, rooting her to the floor.

Amy swallowed hard and held out a shaky hand. Cissy covered it with both of hers. She was a tiny thing, her shoulders barely reaching Amy's chest. But her blue eyes were rich with welcome and happiness.

“I've heard so many wonderful things about you,” Cissy said.

Amy masked her expression with a polite smile. That couldn't be the case. There weren't that many good things for anyone to tell.

“Dominic talks so much about how you two got up to no good back in the day,” Cissy added with a laugh.

That sounded more like it.

“So this is where you boys snuck off to.” Betty swept in, smiling as the twins rushed over and wrapped their arms around her waist.

“We're hungry,” Jayden said, tipping his head back and pouting.

“Yeah.” Kayden frowned. “And Aunt Cissy won't let us have a cookie.”

“I'll let you have one,” Cissy said. “
After
supper. I'm sorry, Betty.” She flashed an apologetic smile. “The boys were supposed to be washing up with Traci. Not sneaking away and stealing cookies.”

“Aw, come on, Aunt Cissy,” Kayden said. “You can smell 'em all the way down the hall. And we only wanted one.”