Page 146 of Backlash

“Come on, Tempest, let’s figure this out,” he muttered as he swung into the saddle. Pain pierced his shoulder, and the stallion sidestepped gingerly.

Colton held the sorrel to a quick walk, his gaze following the four strands of barbed wire encircling the field in which Black Magic had been grazing.

The fence was intact. Not one strand had been clipped. Nor had any of the sections been replaced. All the barbed wire was the same dull brown that sectioned off the fields surrounding the ranch. “So much for that theory,” Colton grumbled.

By the time he unsaddled Tempest, Colton didn’t know any more than he had when he’d left. It seemed as if he was all out of options. If he had to sleep in the stables in a sleeping bag, so be it. Just so long as when Denver returned, Black Magic hadn’t disappeared again.

“Find anything?” Curtis asked as Colton tossed a worn sleeping bag onto an Army cot he’d positioned in the empty stall next to Black Magic’s.

“Nothing.” Colton shook his head, baffled.

“If only he could talk.” Curtis leaned one arm over the box door and stared at the nervous black stallion.

Colton rubbed his jaw and scowled into the stall that was to be his bedroom for the next couple of weeks.

Was Aldridge behind the horse’s disappearance? Or was he just a convenient scapegoat? Could someone else have taken him—Matt Wilkerson or Bill Simpson? Had Denver or John made some enemies that no one knew about? Or, had Black Magic found a hole in the fence and wandered through?

“No way!” Colton decided, slapping the top rail of the box. Black Magic snorted, his ebony coat gleaming in the dim light of the fluorescent bulbs.

Colton knew that the best course of action was just to hold tight until Denver returned. The horse’s disappearance, now over, wasn’t any of his business. His older brother could deal with it.

And yet, a part of him was still intrigued. Years of unraveling mysteries and living on the edge in some of the most dangerous political hot spots in the world caused his suspicious mind to leap ahead to every available conclusion. He’d find grim satisfaction in exposing the culprit, should there be one.

Thoughtfully he rubbed his chin again, his beard scratchy and rough. And what if that culprit turned out to be Ivan the Terrible? What then? How would he break the news to Cassie? Instead of experiencing triumph and satisfaction, he just might feel guilty as hell.

Angry with the turn of his thoughts, he kicked the wall. A water pail jangled, and several horses snorted and whinnied. Colton barely noticed. His thoughts were too dark. Whether he liked it or not, Ivan Aldridge was Cassie’

s father and had stood by her when Colton had taken off. Not that she didn’t have it coming, he reminded himself, then strode out of the stallion barn to the late morning air.

A small flock of crows cawed loudly and flapped their shiny black wings noisily. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Colton growled, glad to have something at which to vent his frustrations.

He didn’t want to think about Cassie or her old man. Too many emotions he’d rather forget kept surfacing. And the fact that she lived just down the road brought temptation much too close. He’d like to see her again; he couldn’t even deny it to himself. He’d lain awake more nights than he wanted to admit fantasizing about her. But he’d be damned if he’d get caught in her sweet trap all over again! No, at the soonest opportunity he was making tracks out of this desolate, windswept country, and he was leaving all thoughts of Cassie behind!

* * *

Cassie parked near the garage and frowned when she recognized Vince Monroe’s green Chevy. In the past few years Ivan and Vince had become friends—helping each other with odd chores—and though Cassie didn’t hold Vince in very high esteem, she kept her thoughts to herself. Her father needed help on the ranch, more help than she could give, and Vince Monroe had broad shoulders and a strong back. The fact that he was Jessica’s father shouldn’t be held against him, Cassie supposed ungraciously as she hauled two bags of groceries from the car. After all, what had happened between Colton, Jessica and Cassie was long over.

She kicked the car door shut with her foot, then nearly tripped on Erasmus, who had bounded down the steps to greet her.

“You should be careful,” she warned the old dog as she backed through the kitchen door and set the ungainly sacks on the kitchen counter. Bending on one knee, she scratched Erasmus behind his ears. The old dog whined in ecstasy, rolling over on his back and exposing his belly. “Glutton,” Cassie teased.

“I thought I heard you drive in.” Her father, followed by Vince Monroe, walked stiffly into the kitchen. The television was still blaring from the living room, and Cassie made out the sounds of a pre-game talk show. “I was just telling Vince that it was about time for you to show up.”

“Glad you missed me,” she quipped.

Grinning, Ivan settled into his favorite chair near the wood stove.

As she began unpacking groceries, Cassie silently evaluated the two men. Her father and Vince were as different as night and day. Where her father was lean to the point of being gaunt, Vince was robust and supported a belly that stretched his belt to the last notch. Her father’s hair had turned steely and thin, but Vince’s sandy hair was thick and vital, his blue eyes still bright and quick. Cassie had the feeling that Vince Monroe didn’t miss much. She’d often wondered if he’d known of her involvement with Colton. As Jessica Monroe’s father, he must’ve realized that his daughter and Cassie had once vied for Colton’s affections. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t that involved in his daughters’ lives.

“I suppose you’ve heard the news,” her father said, grinning widely, his eyes twinkling.

“What news?”

“McLean’s Black Magic reappeared. According to Vince, here, Curtis Kramer found him in one of the main pastures.”

“But—”

Vince shook his head and chuckled. “The same thing happened last year, you know. The stallion was gone for a few weeks and just showed up again. Old John was fit to be tied!” Vince hooted at the memory, and Ivan chuckled.

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