Page 1 of The Promise
PROLOGUE
SAN JUAN MOUNTAINS, COLORADO
"Idon't believe I've ever been this happy." Cara Reynolds hugged herself in the backseat of the car. "It's been an incredible day."
"Well, you're the only daughter we have." Her father's voice was teasing, filled with love. "Besides, you're only going to be sixteen once."
"Probably just as well. I'm not certain I could take this kind of excitement every day. First you give me the new foal, then dinner at the Bristol, and now this." She held up the pendant hanging around her neck. "It's a wonder I'm not spoiled rotten."
"Who says you aren't?" Her father laughed, and Cara thought again how incredibly lucky she was. Not everyone had the family she did. A mother and father who doted not only on her, but on each other. A grandfather who loved them all. She sighed with contentment. Life was practically perfect.
"Do you really like the necklace?" Her mother shot a smile over her shoulder.
Cara caressed the smooth silver, her fingers memorizing each line of carving. "It's wonderful. It even feels old."
"Almost a hundred years." Her father squinted suddenly as a blinding light appeared over the top of a hill. "Come on fellow, cut your damn brights."
"Jim. There's no need to use profanity." Her mother's voice was gentle but firm.
Cara watched, mesmerized as the light came closer and closer, its beam filling the car with clear white light, throwing everything into relief. Her vision intensified, her mother and father etched in her brain like a photograph.
There was an odd grinding noise, and she thought she heard her father curse again. Then, against the sound of metal on metal and shattering glass, the world spun totally out of control. She was thrown forward and then whipped backward again, her head slamming into something hard. Light exploded in her brain, then vanished, pain crescendoing and then dissipating, blackness rushing up to meet her, engulfing her…
The world was amazingly quiet. And cold. Something soft and wet was tickling her nose. And her head hurt. Not just run of the mill hurt, but threatening to explode hurt. She tried to remember where she was, but her brain could barely function over the power of the pain. With a deep breath, she forced her eyes open.
Snow.
She was lying in the snow.
Which made absolutely no sense at all.
Gritting her teeth, she slowly pulled herself up on her elbows, trying to remember where she was. The ground was bathed in an eerie light. Flickering. Firelight. In a rush everything came back.
There'd been a wreck.
Her vision cleared and she focused on the burning wreckage. A pick-up was balanced precariously on two wheels, its frame resting against something solid. She fought against a wave of nausea, narrowing her eyes. Their car.
Her brain kicked in with a rush, overriding the pain to send a terrifying message.
Her parents. Oh God, where were her parents?
Biting back a sob, she screamed out their names. When her attempts to stand failed, she crawled forward, inch by inch, still calling for them, her eyes searching the wreckage, her heart slamming against her ribs, the blood pounding to her brain.
The truck shifted, slamming down on the sedan underneath. She opened her mouth to scream, but before the sound could leave her body, both cars suddenly exploded, hot flames shooting into the air, the falling snow doing nothing to dampen the fury.
A second explosion rocked the night. And hope died. Completely. Irrevocably. Cara dropped to the snow, sobs wracking her body. The pain almost unbearable. This time when the blackness came, she didn't fight its mind-numbing embrace.
Michael Macpherson pulledhis sheepskin coat tighter around him. It was cold. Ball shattering cold. He bit back a laugh, hearing his father's voice in his head. Duncan Macpherson wasn't one to mince words.
And he also wasn't about to be out in this kind of weather looking for cattle. No sir, he preferred to freeze his balls off up in the mountains looking for that elusive mother lode. Or maybe, if he was really smart, he was holed up somewhere with a bottle of whiskey for company. Michael had to admit that, right at the moment, the idea held a certain appeal. Not that he would trade places with his father.
Duncan had his share of problems, but then he also had Rose. Michael's mother was the love of his life and, truth be told,Michael longed for someone like that in his life, too. Someone to wait up nights for him, fire stoked, supper warming. Someone to share things with, to build a life with.
He sighed. His mother always said there was one man for one woman, and that his was out there somewhere. Waiting for him. All he had to do was find her.
Not that he was in any hurry. After all he was only nineteen. For the time being, he was content to wait. There was plenty of time left. He squinted into the falling snow, and tightened his hold on the reins. The storm was worsening, the wind whipping the snow into a frenzied dance, the force of it bordering on a blizzard. Urging his horse forward, he searched the gloom for lost cattle. Pete should have been out here with him. He could have used the help. But the ranch hand was laid up with a bum knee. An accident in the corral. And Patrick…
Hell, who knew where the kid was these days? At the Irish Rose helping his mother and Uncle Owen, no doubt. Patrick had no interest in ranching. He'd made that more than clear. Michael reined his horse in, his eyes catching the shadowy mound of a cow under a tumble of rock.
