Disclosure: The McCaffertys

  She’d never confided in her grandmother, but Nana had suspected something was wrong. She’d caught Jamie crying behind the barn where Caesar had been grazing, swatting flies with his tail as he nipped at the dry stubble near the fence. Wearing her floppy straw hat and gardening gloves, Nana had rounded the corner with a basket of weeds she’d pulled out of the garden and stopped short when she caught sight of Jamie. “It’s that McCafferty boy, isn’t it?” she’d guessed, and when Jamie hadn’t answered, Nita Parsons had become very serious and placed a gloved hand on Jamie’s bare arm. “You would tell me if you needed help, wouldn’t you?”

  Jamie had nodded and sniffed but hadn’t forced the painful words over her tongue.

  “Sometimes...sometimes a girl gets herself into trouble before she even really thinks about it.”

  Worried eyes had peered through rimless glasses. “I’m here for you, honey, I always will be, and if that boy has done anything to you, anything at all, I’ll take it up with his father. There are laws concerning what can happen between a boy and a girl your age.”

  “I—I’m fine, Nana,” she’d lied, shifting her gaze away from the doubts in her grandmother’s eyes.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Absolutely.” She’d swallowed back her tears. “I’m just kind of emotional, you know, that time of the month.”

  Nana’s lips had pinched in disbelief, but she hadn’t called Jamie on the lie. “Just know that I’m here for you. No matter what.” Then she’d dumped her weeds into the growing pile near the barn and walked slowly back to the garden. Jamie had wanted desperately to confide in Nana, but knew it would serve no purpose. Slade had left, was engaged to Sue Ellen, and Jamie had lost the baby. She’d been to see a doctor in a neighboring town who had confirmed the miscarriage. She’d been certain that a part of her had died with her child.

  Now, she shivered in the sleigh.

  Next to the man who had so callously turned his back on her.

  Slade took the reins from her fingers and snapped them. The horse picked up speed across Big Meadow toward the far side where the foothills sloped upward and thick stands of pine and aspen crowded around a creek bed.

  In the backseat, the girls giggled and refused to sit still no matter how many times Slade reminded them to stay put. They were excited, pointing and laughing, chattering about Christmas and Santa and what they wanted.

  The horse shied as a rabbit, as white as the snow drifting from the heavens, jumped out of the way and into the safety of skeletal, icy brambles.

  “There. That one, that one!” Molly cried, standing quickly and pointing a mittened hand straight ahead, over the horse’s ears to a huge tree in the distance.

  “I think it’s a little big,” Slade said, and chuckled to himself as he glanced at the thirty-foot tree. “The General would probably have a heart attack if he had to pull that one back to the house. Then there’s me. More than likely, I’d keel over if I had to cut it down. Let’s try to find something that will fit inside the house.”

  “Spoilsport,” Jamie muttered, caught up in the magic of the moment. He slid her a glance, then clucked to the gelding and snapped the reins. Snowflakes danced and swirled. Frigid air caressed her cheeks.

  The acres sped by in a cold, wintry rush as Slade guided General through the foothills until they came to a thick stand of smaller trees. The girls couldn’t sit still a moment longer and as Slade reined the horse to a stop, they tumbled out of the sleigh, running pell-mell through the unbroken snow. “I think we’ll find one here,” he said, climbing out and offering Jamie his arm.

  She should ignore it, but looking down into his upturned face, staring into eyes as clear and blue as the summer sky, she grabbed his hand. Something inside her caught. Her heart gave a quick little leap, but she refused to recognize the glimmer in his eyes. She hopped off the sleigh. He tugged on her arm, dragging her close. Before she could so much as catch her breath, he kissed her. Hard. As if he’d been waiting for just the right moment. Chilled lips fastened to hers for an electric instant that caused her heart to kick. Oh, God, her knees turned to water.

  The kiss deepened for a second and her blood ran hot. Why was it always like this? Why couldn’t she turn away from this one man who seemed determined to break her heart over and over? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me...

  He lifted his head, then, still holding her, slowly winked at her. “Let’s play lumberjack,” he suggested, and she arched a brow. He whispered, “I’d prefer doctor, of course, but with the kids around—”

  “It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “And you know how dead-set I am about propriety.”

  She laughed and shook her head as he released her. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Never.” He flipped open a compartment in the back of the sleigh and pulled out his tools. Packing a small chain saw in one hand and a coil of nylon rope on his shoulder, he plowed through the snow, following the trails made by tiny little boots.

  “Over here! Over here!”

  Jamie saw a flash of a pink snowsuit between the saplings.

  “Uncle Slade!” Molly was yelling and pointing to a crooked pine tree about ten feet tall. “This one. This one.”

  “It’s not straight, darlin’,” he said, eyeing the listing pine.

  “It’s perfect,” Molly insisted, jumping up and down.

  “Yeth,” her sister said. “This one, Unca Slade.”

  “She’s right, it’s...perfect,” Jamie agreed.

  A wry smile twisted Slade’s lips. “Outvoted by the females,” he mused under his breath. “Well, if you two, er, three, are sure.”

  “Yeth!” Even Mindy was jumping up and down.

  “Cut it down!” Molly demanded.

  “Vicious little thing, aren’t you? Now, stand back. Both of you.” He bent on one knee and looked back at Jamie, who got the message.

  “Come on, girls, over here,” she said. “Let’s give...uh, Uncle Slade, some room.”

  With a growl and plume of smoke, the chain saw roared to life, bucking as the blade bit into the base of the pine. Sawdust plumed and littered the snow. A few seconds later the tree tumbled to the ground, sending up a burst of white powder.

  The girls sprang forward. Insisting upon helping their uncle, they unlooped the coil of rope as he baled the tree.

  “Good job,” he said, carrying the tree back to the sleigh and tying it to one side, above the runners. “I’ll recommend you both to the Lumberjack Hall of Fame.”

  “Can we gets another one?” Molly asked, her eyes bright as she spied another tree.

  “I think one’s enough, sprite.” He rubbed the top of her head and she grinned widely. “We’ll take this one back and maybe make some snow angels or a snowman while the tree dries out, then we’ll take it inside and you can get your aunt Randi to help you decorate it.”

  Mindy’s mittened hands clasped together at the thought. “With candy canes?”

  “If that’s what you want.” Slade tested the ropes lashing the tree to the sleigh. The bundled pine didn’t move. “Okay, how about cookies and cocoa?”

  They ate in the sleigh, the twins chattering in the still afternoon air, the warm smells of hot chocolate and coffee drifting through the snowflakes that swirled around them. It felt so natural, so right, with thick blankets and sheepskin tossed over their laps, noses red with the cold, laughter coming easy. As if they were a family, Jamie thought. The family she’d never really known.

  Except that the children weren’t hers.

  Except that she wasn’t married to Slade.

  Except that he’d left her years ago.

  Except that the baby they’d created hadn’t survived long enough to be born.

  Hot tears burned the backs of her eyes and Slade reached forward to touch her cheek. “Somethin’ wrong?”

  If you only knew, she thought, but shook her head. “Nah. Just a little nostalgia.”

  “For?”

  “Things
that could have been.” That was vague enough. She sipped her coffee and felt its heat burn a path down her throat. But it couldn’t warm that icy spot in her heart, the part that had died when Slade had left her and she’d lost their child.

  “Maybe you should start lookin’ forward, instead of lookin’ back,” he suggested, as if he could read her mind.

  “You’re a great one to give that kind of advice.” She’d seen the torment in his expression when he’d mentioned the accident that had taken the life of someone close to him. It was her turn to touch, the finger of one kidskin glove tracing his scar. “You still beat yourself up for this.”

  His expression changed. Darkened. As if the demons he’d so recently put to rest had awakened. His lips pursed for a second and he tossed the dregs from his cup into the snow. “I don’t think we should go there.”

  “You said—”

  “Go where?” Molly asked, leaning forward, breaking into the tense conversation. “Where should we go?”

  “Never mind.” Slade half turned in the seat. “Let’s pack up our things and head back before it gets dark. Hiya!” He slapped the reins over General’s rump and the sleigh eased forward.

  Twisting over the seat back, Jamie wiped smudged faces and tucked the two uneaten cookies and empty cups into the insulated pack, then settled into the front seat as the girls snuggled under their blankets.

  Slade stared straight ahead, his jaw set, pain etching his features as darkness crept through the trees and into the gullies. Rudders gliding, the sleigh slid over the smooth snow. Snowflakes swirled and caught in Jamie’s hair and eyelashes as the words to “Winter Wonderland” rolled through her mind. She cast a glance at Slade, his lips compressed. Dear God, how she’d loved him all those years ago. If things had been different, perhaps they would have...

  Stop it! What would have been better? That he found out you were pregnant and married you because he felt obligated? That you gave up your dreams of college and career to be what? Slade McCafferty’s wife? That’s not what you wanted.

  No, Jamie thought as the night closed in around them. But the baby, oh, how she’d wanted the baby. And there was more. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she’d wanted Slade to love her.

  Chapter 10

  “Did you see that?” Slade’s eyes narrowed on the stables. He reined General to a stop near the front porch of the ranch house. Was it his imagination, or had he seen someone’s face in the darkened window of the horse barn?

  “What?” Jamie asked.

  “Someone inside the stables...not Larry Todd, our foreman, or Adam Zollander, our ranch hand, or one of my brothers.” His voice sounded tight, even to his own ears, and every muscle in his body tensed. He dropped the reins as Jamie swung her head, surveying the outbuildings surrounding the yard.

  “I don’t see anyone,” she said.

  “Neither do I. Now.” But he had.

  Or was he just jumping at shadows? Edgy because of the attempts on Randi’s life? He wasn’t willing to take any chances, and the gut feeling he had—that something wasn’t right—stuck with him. “You take the kids inside. I’ll go check it out.” He was out of the sleigh in an instant.

  “What about the tree?” Molly demanded as she flung herself into a thick, soft, drift.

  “I’ll get it later.”

  “But—”

  He focused hard on his niece. “I said I’ll bring it in. Later. Or you can have Uncle Matt or Thorne do it now. But you two—” he motioned to both of his nieces “—go inside and warm up.”

  “I wants to do snow angels!” Molly was as stubborn as he was, but this wasn’t the time to back down, not when the hairs on the back of his neck were rising. He glanced at Jamie, sending her a silent message that she picked up.

  “Come on, girls,” Jamie said, ushering both rambunctious twins toward the front door. “Maybe Juanita has something for you in the kitchen.”

  “Dumb Buandita,” Molly muttered, but as Mindy climbed onto the first step, the door swept open and the twins shrieked in glee at the sight of their mother.

  “Mommy, Mommy, we gots the tree! Look! Uncle Slade, he sawed it down—” Mindy was pointing frantically at the sleigh, but Slade ignored the little girl and, jabbing his fists into the pockets of his jacket, trudged through the snow to the stables. He considered a weapon, but figured he’d grab a pitchfork once he was inside the barn.

  It’s probably nothing, his mind nagged. But he wasn’t willing to take a chance. Not on his sister’s life. Not on the baby’s. Not on anyone in his family’s. And not on Jamie’s. He stopped short. Jamie wasn’t part of his family.

  Whoa.

  He was getting ahead of himself. Way ahead. He made it to the barn door, swung it open and reached inside, but didn’t flip the switch. If someone was lurking in the shadows with a gun, he didn’t want to give the guy an open shot at him.

  Instead, he grabbed a pitchfork as he slipped inside. Horses snorted and shifted in their stalls. One gave out a nervous nicker as Slade waited in the darkness, ears straining, listening for the slightest noise. His fingers grasped the smooth wooden handle of the pitchfork and he crouched, keeping his back to the wall. Did he hear the scrape of a boot or was his mind playing tricks on him? Was there a change in the atmosphere inside the old building or was he jumping at shadows?

  His eyes adjusted to the blue light shining through the windows, a watery illumination from the exterior security lamps. Slade made out the familiar shapes of the horses as they dozed in their stalls. Nothing appeared out of place. Silently he crept along the walk between the stalls, his pitchfork ready. He peeked cautiously into each box, expecting a figure to leap out of the shadows at any second. A few of the horses snorted. One pawed the straw, and despite the chill in the air, Slade felt a trickle of nervous sweat slide down his spine.

  Did he smell something...the hint of some aftershave still hanging on the air, or was he, again, conjuring up a sinister scenario that didn’t exist?

  A mouse scurried across the floor and he jumped, landing on the balls of his feet. But there was nothing but the sound of frantic little claws on concrete.

  Slade paused at Diablo Rojo’s stall, the very end box. The colt tossed his head and huffed out a disgusted blast of air, as if he knew the folly of it all.

  Silently, Slade slipped around the last box to the next aisle and as he walked between the set of stalls, he saw no one. Heard nothing out of place. Maybe he’d imagined the face in the window. Unconvinced, he searched the tack room, again, without bothering with the lights. Nothing seemed out of place. He stepped on the lowest rung of the ladder to the hayloft.

  The door burst open. Slade spun, his weapon ready. The lights blazed on.

  “What the devil’s got into you?” Matt stood in the doorway, his eyes focused on the sharp tines of the pitchfork aimed in his direction.

  The knots in Slade’s shoulders relaxed a little. “I thought I saw someone here when I brought the twins back to the house.”

  “So what...you thought you’d surprise him and prong him to death? Like somethin’ you were going to put on the barbecue? Hell, why didn’t you grab Dad’s rifle?”

  “I wasn’t sure.”

  “But you thought you’d grab the pitchfork just in case.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn.” Matt’s smile twisted in open amusement. “Sometimes I don’t know what the hell you’re thinkin’.” Matt walked to a shelf where a pair of leather gloves was tucked between the curry combs and brushes. “Seems to me you’ve been jumping out of your skin ever since a certain lady lawyer showed up in town.” He picked up the gloves and pulled them on.

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning anything you want it to.” Chuckling under his breath, Matt headed for the door. “I guess I’ll leave you and the bogeyman alone. But I will haul the Christmas tree into the house. The girls can’t wait.”

  “Do that,” Slade growled irritably.

  “Then I’ll put the sleigh away and t
ake care of General.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” Still chuckling to himself, Matt yanked on the gloves and disappeared through the door. Slade felt like a fool. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, so, with the interior lights burning bright, he climbed the ladder to the hayloft where the air barely moved. The smells of hay and horses, dust and dung filtered upward. The lights were dimmer here, the shadows murkier. Bales were stacked to the high, pitched ceiling and loose straw was several inches thick across the old plank floor. But there wasn’t a sound up here. Nothing looked out of place. Nothing moved.

  Fool. You’re starting to be paranoid.

  Downstairs, the door creaked open.

  Slade nearly jumped out of his skin.

  “Slade?”

  Jamie’s voice. He relaxed a little.

  “Up here.” Looking down the ladder, he found her craning her neck and staring up at the hole cut into the floor.

  “Find anything?”

  “Just Matt. And that was pretty scary.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “You can be funny when you’re not a pain in the backside.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment, Counselor. Come on up.”

  She hesitated. Frowned enough to create little furrows between her eyebrows. “What about the twins? They’re waiting for you. When it comes to promises about Christmas trees and snow angels, kids have incredible memories.”

  “They can wait a little longer. It’s the anticipation that’s the fun part.” He crooked a finger at her. “Come on up.”

  “Well, I don’t think I should—”

  “Afraid?”

  “What? Afraid? Of you?” Her eyes sparked. She couldn’t resist a dare.

  “Of us.”

  “I told you—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I know.” God she was beautiful. Staring up at him with wide hazel eyes filled with indecision. “Come on, Jamie, it’s time to drop the sword. I won’t hurt you. I don’t bite...well, not hard and only if the lady asks for—”

  “Oh, save it, McCafferty.” He saw it then, that little shadow of pain that he’d witnessed before, but she quickly disguised it with a determined thrust of her chin. She grabbed the metal rung and stepped onto the ladder. Within seconds she was up in the hayloft, looking out of place in her wool slacks, sweater and overcoat.