Tough Enough

  Rafe went over to the door and locked it.

  When he walked out of the office ten minutes later he paused briefly to tug his Stetson low over his eyes. He smiled brilliantly at the two secretaries. “Your boss won’t be taking any more appointments today, ladies.”

  “YOU’RE MARRIED? WHAT the hell do you mean, you’re married?” Connor Lark roared at his daughter as he climbed out of the car and went around to the passenger side to open the door for Bev. “We go away for a few days to give you and Cassidy a chance to work out your differences and you up and get hitched. Couldn’t you at least have waited until we got back?”

  “Sorry, Dad, Rafe was in a hurry. Hello, Bev. How was Sedona?”

  “Just lovely.” Bev gave her a quick hug and then stood back to look at her new daughter-in-law. “Did that son of mine really marry you while we were gone?”

  “It was real cheap and tacky, Bev. A Vegas wedding, no less. But it was for real.” Margaret smiled warmly at the older woman but a part of her was waiting to make certain Bev approved. You’d make him a better mistress than a wife.

  “My dear, I couldn’t be more delighted,” Bev said gently. “You’ll make him a wonderful wife. And Rafe knew it all along. We’ll have to give him credit for that, won’t we? Don’t worry about the cheap and tacky wedding. We’ll make up for it with a lovely reception. I can’t wait to start planning it.”

  “Well, there’s no rush,” Margaret assured her dryly. “The groom isn’t even in town.”

  Connor plucked a suitcase out of the trunk. “Where the devil is he?”

  “Took off this morning with hardly a goodbye kiss. Just announced at breakfast he was catching a plane to California. I haven’t seen him since. Can you imagine? And after all those promises he made about not letting his business dominate his life anymore, he no sooner gets my name on a marriage certificate than he takes off. I guess the honeymoon is over.”

  Bev frowned. “Is that true, dear? He’s gone off on business? I can’t believe he’d do such a thing.”

  “I can.” Margaret grinned. “But in this case I’m going to let him get away with it. I think I know where he went.”

  “Yeah?” Connor turned his head at the sound of a familiar car coming up the long, sweeping drive. “Where was that?”

  Margaret watched the Mercedes come toward them, a sense of deep satisfaction welling up within her. “He had to take care of some unfinished business in San Diego.”

  The Mercedes came to a halt and Rafe got out. Margaret raced toward him and threw herself into his arms. “It’s about time you got here,” she whispered against his chest as she hugged him fiercely.

  Rafe sucked in his breath and winced slightly. “Easy, honey.”

  Margaret looked up in alarm. “Rafe, are you all right?”

  “Never better.” He was grinning again as he bent his head to kiss her soundly.

  “I was afraid you wouldn’t get home this evening.”

  “Hey, I’m a married man now. I’ve got responsibilities here at home.” He looked at Connor and Bev and nodded a friendly greeting. “Looks like we’re going to be one big happy family again tonight. Damn. I was hoping for a little privacy. This is supposed to be a honeymoon, you know.”

  “Don’t worry, Cassidy, your Mom and I won’t be staying long,” Connor assured him. “We’re on our way to California. Just wanted to check up on you two and make sure you hadn’t throttled each other while we were out of town.”

  “As you can see, Maggie and I have worked out our little differences. Hang on a second.”

  Rafe released Margaret to open the rear door of the Mercedes. He reached inside to remove a large, flat parcel.

  “What’s that?” Margaret asked curiously.

  “A wedding present.”

  Margaret quickly dragged the package into the house and ripped off the protective wrapping while everyone stood around and watched. She laughed up at Rafe with sheer delight as she stood back to admire Sean Winters’s Canyon.

  “It’s beautiful, Rafe. Thank you.”

  “I still think it looks like a bunch of squiggly lines but I’ll try to think of it as an investment in my future brother-in-law’s career.”

  MUCH LATER THAT NIGHT Margaret snuggled up beside her husband, drew an interesting circle on his bare chest and smiled in the shadows. “You went to see Jack Moorcroft today, didn’t you?”

  Rafe caught her teasing fingers and kissed them. “Uh-huh.”

  “You told him he was off the hook? That you aren’t going to ruin him?”

  “That’s what I told him, all right.”

  Margaret levered herself up on her elbow to look down at him. “Rafe, I’m so proud of you for being able to handle that situation in a mature, reasonable, civilized fashion.”

  “That’s me,” he agreed, his lips on the inside of her wrist, “a mature, reasonable, civilized man.”

  Margaret studied his bent head and experienced a sudden jolt of unworthy suspicion. “You did behave in a mature, reasonable, civilized way when you went to see him, didn’t you, Rafe?”

  “Sure.” He was kissing her shoulder now, pushing her gently back down onto the pillows.

  “No Code of the West stuff or anything?” she persisted as she felt herself slipping under his sensual spell. “Rafe, you didn’t do anything rash while you were visiting Moorcroft, did you?”

  He kissed her throat and then raised his head to look down at her with gleaming eyes. “Maggie, love, I’m a businessman, not a gunfighter or an outlaw. Your romantic imagination sometimes gets a little carried away.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. Where you’re concerned, my romantic imagination tends to be right on target.” She reached up to put her arms around his neck and draw him down to her. “Remind me in the morning to send a telegram to some friends.”

  “Sure. Anything you say, Maggie, love. In the meantime what do you say we go for another midnight ride?”

  “That sounds wonderful,” she whispered, looking up at him with all her love in her eyes.

  KATHERINE INSKIP HAWTHORNE got her telegram while she was eating papaya at breakfast with her husband on Amethyst Island. Sarah Fleetwood Trace found hers waiting for her when she got back from a treasure-hunting honeymoon.

  Married a cowboy. Definitely an old-fashioned kind of guy. Code of the West, etc. A little rough around the edges but fantastic in the saddle. Can’t wait for you to meet him. Suggest we all vacation on Amethyst Island this year.

  Love,

  Maggie

  Sarah reached for the telephone at once and dialed Amethyst Island. “Maggie? She’s let him talk her into letting herself be called Maggie?”

  Katherine laughed on the other end of the line. “Obviously the woman is in love. How about that vacation here on the island?”

  “Sounds like a truly brilliant idea to me,” Sarah said, glancing at Gideon. “We’ll all go treasure-hunting.”

  “It seems,” said Katherine, “that we’ve already found our treasures.”

  “I think you’re right.”

  * * * * *

  THE COUGAR

  LINDSAY MCKENNA

  Dear Reader,

  I’m thrilled to have The Cougar reissued in Tough Enough. How exciting!

  I love writing books about ranching, cowboys and the West. I was born in San Diego, but my parents were tumbleweeds by nature and we moved a lot—twenty-two times in the first eighteen years of my life—always settling somewhere rural. I lived in Arizona, New Mexico, Montana, Idaho and Oregon. Even as a child, as I lived in these different states, I saw different mind-sets, priorities, emphases upon particular ideals. For instance, I’ve always found there’s a huge difference between Easterners and Westerners, and I sometimes showcase that fascinating “divide” in my work.

  My knowledge of the West, which is woven into my books, comes from these many years of travel. In The Cougar I also tried to incorporate some of my experiences as a volunteer firefighter and EMT in Arizona. I don??
?t believe a writer can ever write outside herself; she must come from a point within her own experiences. Please enjoy The Cougar and visit me at www.lindsaymckenna.com.

  Sincerely,

  Lindsay McKenna

  DEDICATION

  To my readers

  CHAPTER ONE

  “THIS WASN’T a very good idea, Rachel Donovan.” The words rang out briefly in the interior of the brand-new car that Rachel was driving. Huge, fat snowflakes were falling faster and faster. It was early December. Why shouldn’t it be snowing in Oak Creek Canyon, which lay just south of Flagstaff near Sedona? Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Tiredness pulled at her. A nine-hour flight from London, and then another six hours to get to Denver, Colorado, was taking its toll on her. As a homeopathic practitioner, she was no stranger to the effects of sleep deprivation.

  Rubbing her watering eyes, she decided that the Rachel of her youth, some thirty years ago, was at play this morning. Normally, she wasn’t this spontaneous, but in her haste to see her sisters as soon as possible, she’d changed her travel plans. Instead of flying into Phoenix, renting a car and driving up to Sedona, she’d flown into Denver and taken a commuter flight to Flagstaff, which was only an hour away from her home, the Donovan Ranch.

  Home … The word made her heart expand with warm feelings. Yes, she was coming home—for good. Her older sister, Kate, had asked Rachel and their younger sister, Jessica, to come home and help save the ranch, which was teetering on the edge of bankruptcy. A fierce kind of sweetness welled up through Rachel. She couldn’t wait to be living on the ranch with her sisters once again.

  Glancing at her watch, she saw it was 7:00 a.m. She knew at this time of year the highways were often icy in the world-famous canyon. There was a foot of snow on the ground already—and it was coming down at an even faster rate as she drove carefully down the twisting, two-lane asphalt highway. On one side the canyon walls towered thousands of feet above her. On the other lay a five-hundred-foot-plus drop-off into Oak Creek, which flowed at the bottom of the canyon.

  How many times had she driven 89A from Sedona to Flag? Rachel had lost count. Her eyes watered again from fatigue and she took a swipe at them with the back of her hand. Kate and Jessica were expecting her home at noon. If she got down the canyon in one piece, she would be home at 9:00 a.m. and would surprise them. A smile tugged at the corners of her full mouth. Oh, how she longed to see her sisters! She’d missed them so very much after leaving to work in England as a homeopath.

  The best news was that Kate was going to marry her high school sweetheart, Sam McGuire. And Jessica had found the love of her life, Dan Black, a horse wrangler who worked at the ranch. Both were going to be married seven days from now, and Rachel was going to be their maid of honor. Yes, things were finally looking up for those two. The good Lord knew, Kate and Jessica deserved to be happy. Their childhood with their alcoholic father, Kelly Donovan, had been a disaster. As each daughter turned eighteen, she had fled from the ranch. Kate had become a rebel, working for environmental causes. Jessica had moved to Canada to pursue her love of flower essences. And Rachel—well, she’d fled the farthest away—to England.

  Rachel felt the car slide. Instantly, she lifted her foot off the accelerator. She was only going thirty miles an hour, but black ice was a well-known problem here in this part of Arizona. It killed a lot of people and she didn’t want to be the next victim. As she drove down the narrow, steep, road, dark green Douglas firs surrounded her. Ordinarily, Rachel would be enthralled with the beauty and majesty of the landscape—this remarkable canyon reminded her of a miniature Grand Canyon in many respects. But she scarcely noticed now. In half an hour, she would be home.

  Her hands tightened on the wheel as she spotted a yellow, diamond-shaped sign that read 15 mph. A sharp hairpin curve was coming up. She knew this curve well. She glanced once again at the jagged, unforgiving face of a yellow-and-white limestone cliff soaring thousands of feet above her and disappearing into the heavily falling snow. Gently she tested her brakes on the invisible, dangerous black ice. The only thing between her and the cliff that plunged into the canyon was a guardrail.

  Suddenly, Rachel gasped. Was she seeing things? Without thinking, she slammed on the brakes. Directly in front of her, looming out of nowhere, was a huge black-and-gold cat. Her eyes widened enormously and a cry tore from her lips as the car swung drunkenly. The tires screeched as she tried to correct the skid. Impossible! Everything started to whirl around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the black-and-gold cat, as large as a cougar, jump out of the way. Slamming violently against the cliff face, Rachel screamed. The steering wheel slipped out of her hands. A split second later, she watched in horror as the guardrail roared up at her.

  The next moment there was a grinding impact. Throwing up her hands to protect her face, she felt the car become airborne. Everything seemed to suddenly move into slow motion. The car was twisting around in midair. She heard the glass crack as her head smashed against the side window. The snow, the dark shapes of the fir trees, all rushed at her. The nose of the car spiraled down—down into the jagged limestone wall well below the guardrail. Oh, no! She was going to die!

  A thousand thoughts jammed through her mind in those milliseconds. What had been up on that highway? It wasn’t a cougar. What was it? Had she hallucinated? Rachel knew better than to slam on brakes on black ice! How stupid could she be! But if she hadn’t hit the brakes, she’d have struck that jaguar. Had there been a jaguar at all? Was it possible? She had to be seeing things! Now she was going to die!

  Everything went black in front of Rachel. The last thing she recalled was the motion of her car as it arched down like a shot fired from a cannon, before hitting the side of the cliff. The last sound she heard was her own scream of absolute terror ringing through the air.

  WARM LIQUID WAS FLOWING across Rachel’s parted lips. She heard voices that seemed very far away. As she slowly became conscious, the voices grew stronger—and closer. Forcing open her eyes, she at first saw only white. Groggily, she looked closer and realized it was snow on part of the windshield. The other half of the windshield was torn away, the white flakes lazily drifting into the passenger’s side of the car.

  The accident came back to her as the pain in her head and left foot throbbed in unison. Suddenly she realized she was sitting at an angle, the car twisted around the trunk of a huge Douglas fir.

  Again she heard a voice. A man’s voice. It was closer this time. Blinking slowly, Rachel lifted her right arm. At least it worked. The seat belt bit deeply into her shoulder and neck. The air bag, deflated now, had stopped her from being thrown through the windshield. A branch must have gouged out the right half of the windshield. If anyone had been sitting there, they’d be dead.

  It was cold with the wind and snow blowing into the car. Shivering, Rachel closed her eyes. The image of the jaguar standing in the middle of that icy, snow-covered highway came back to her. How stupid could she have been? She knew not to slam on brakes like that. Where had the jaguar come from? Jaguars didn’t exist in Arizona! Her head pounded as she tried to make sense of everything. She was in trouble. Serious trouble.

  Again, a man’s voice, deep and commanding, drifted into her semiconscious state. Help. She needed medical help. If only she could get to her homeopathic kit in the backseat. Arnica was what she needed for tissue trauma. Her head throbbed. She was sure she’d have a goose egg. Arnica would reduce the swelling and the pain.

  The snowflakes were falling more thickly and at a faster rate now. How long had she been unconscious? Looking at her watch, Rachel groaned. It was 8:00 a.m. She’d been down here an hour? She had to get out! Rachel tried to move, but her seat belt was tightly constricting. She hung at a slight angle toward the passenger side of the car. Struggling weakly, she tried to find the seat belt latch, but her fingers were cold and numb.

  “Hey! Are you all right?”

  Rachel slowly lifted her head. Her vision was blurred for a mome
nt, and when it cleared she noticed her side window was gone, smashed out, she guessed, in the crash. A man—a very tall, lean man with dark, short hair and intense blue eyes, wearing a navy blue jacket and pants—anchored himself against the car. He was looking at her, assessing her sharply. Rachel saw the patch on his jacket: EMT. And then she saw another patch: Sedona Fire Department.

  “No … no … I’m not all right,” she whispered, giving up on trying to find the seat belt latch.

  “Okay … just hold on. Help’s here. My name is Jim. We’re from the Sedona Fire Department. We got a 911 call that an auto had flipped off the highway. Hold on while I get my buddies down here.”

  Rachel sank back, feeling relief. This man … Jim … radiated confidence. Somehow she knew she’d be okay with him. She watched through half-closed eyes as he lifted the radio to his strong-looking mouth and talked to someone far above them. The snow was thickening. The gray morning light accentuated his oval face, his strong nose and that mouth. He looked Indian. Rachel briefly wondered what kind. With his high cheekbones and dark hair, he could be Navajo, Hopi or from one of many other tribal nations.

  Something about him made her feel safe. That was good. Rachel knew that he could get her out of this mess. She watched as he snapped the radio onto his belt and returned his full attention to her, trying to hide his worry.

  “Helluva way to see Arizona,” he joked. “The car is wrapped around this big Douglas fir here, so it and you aren’t going anywhere. My buddies are bringing down a stretcher and some auto-extrication equipment. My job is to take care of you.” He smiled a little as he reached in the window. “What’s your name?”

  “Rachel …” she whispered.

  “Rachel, I’m going to do a quick exam of you. Do you hurt anywhere?”

  She closed her eyes as he touched her shoulder. “Yes … my head and my foot. I—I think I’ve got a bump on my head.”