To Protect His Own. Brenda Mott

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СКАЧАТЬ her eyes and focused. She could do this. It was easy, once you learned how. Her friends in Aurora had shown her the way.

      She raised her fingers to her mouth and felt her stomach begin to heave in a familiar wave of motion. Then she leaned over the toilet, purging herself of everything she’d just eaten.

      But not just the food.

      Of everything bad that lay like a thick, black poison inside of her.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “I DON’T THINK you’re ready for this, Caitlin.” Evelyn sounded worried, reluctant to let her go. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

      Caitlin returned her mother’s firm stare. “I’m walking on my own now.” Pretty well. “I’m sick of being smothered. I need my space.”

      “I don’t like the idea of you being alone. What if you fall?”

      “I’ll get back up.” Caitlin folded her arms. “Mom, I’m twenty-three years old. When are you going to stop treating me like a child?” Until the accident, she hadn’t realized just how much she’d leaned on her parents, her grandmother and brother. A close family, albeit a rather nontraditional one, they’d never lived far from one another, and Caitlin had spent her entire life at the family’s horse ranch—Foxwood Farms.

      “You’re the one who’s acting like a child,” Evelyn said, hands on her slender hips.

      “Now, girls, let’s not argue.” Benton Kramer placed his hands gently on his daughter’s shoulders. “Honey, your mother is simply worried about you, and so am I.” Six foot two with a sturdy build and silver-streaked black hair, he had the same blue eyes as she did; the same blue eyes as Gran. The laugh lines around them that Caitlin loved so much now crinkled with concern. “Are you sure you’re ready for this, peach?”

      “Yes, Dad, I’m sure.” Caitlin ran her hands up and down his arms affectionately, sickeningly aware of the fact that it took a conscious effort to move her left one. “It’s been almost seven months since the accident. And it’s not like I’ll be far away.” The small farmhouse she’d rented was three miles from the Kramers’ five-hundred-and-fifty acres. And the house on the neighboring property, which belonged to the Bagley family—longtime residents of Deer Creek—had sat empty, for sale for some time now, so Caitlin would have plenty of peace and quiet. Plenty of seclusion. Exactly what she wanted.

      “Okay, then.” Benton lifted his hands in surrender. “Dillon and I will move your stuff in this weekend.” He ignored Evelyn’s continued protests.

      Caitlin turned her back on her mother and, with the aid of her cane, headed slowly toward the sweeping staircase and her room.

      By Friday afternoon, her things were gathered and she was ready to go.

      “Is this it, Cate?” Dillon hefted a box of kitchen goods into his arms. At twenty-six, with coal-black hair and the Kramer blue eyes, he attracted his share of women out on the show circuit. He kept extremely busy, riding, training, showing—their father’s right hand in the running of Foxwood Farms. But he’d always made plenty of time for his little sister.

      “That should do it.” Caitlin felt an exuberance she hadn’t known lately as they headed outside. The mid-September heat engulfed her as she headed for her new pickup truck. New to her, anyway.

      Her father had offered to buy her a fully loaded, top-of-the-line, dually pickup straight off the showroom floor, but spending that much money on a pickup was foolish. She’d seen the candy-apple-red, ’79 Chevy parked at the local lot, owned by a reputable dealer. Something about the way the truck had obviously been lovingly cared for appealed to her.

      Caitlin tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She couldn’t drive yet. Her ability to perceive distances correctly had been compromised by her head injury. As had her ability to judge the weight of an object. Her brain was left with no way to know how hard to flex her muscles. Without proper balance coordination, her brain initially couldn’t even communicate the simple act of moving a finger, and it had taken intense concentration and physical therapy to begin to overcome these obstacles.

      The Chevy had an automatic transmission. No clutch for her weakened left side. She hoped to be driving within the next month, at least around the ranch.

      “You be careful,” Evelyn said, giving her daughter a warm peck on the cheek.

      Gran hovered over her, fussing with Caitlin’s hair, touching her as though she might crumble into dust and blow away on the wind. “Keep that cell phone clipped to your belt, you hear?” She pointed a stern finger. “I know how you’re always misplacing it.”

      “I hear you, Gran.” Caitlin smiled and shook her head. “I’ll be fine, really. Shauna will be checking in on me, too.” Her best friend since fifth grade, Shauna had stuck faithfully by her side ever since the accident, even when she’d tried to push her away. Caitlin kissed her mother and grandmother on the cheek. “I love you both, even if you are a couple of worrywarts.”

      Evelyn graced her with a good-natured frown. “That’s fine. You go on and think that way. We’ll see how you feel when you’re a mother one day.”

      But she didn’t plan…never had planned…on being a mother. Caitlin herself had been raised by a series of nannies. Evelyn had never been the sort of nurturing mom she now suddenly wanted to be in lieu of Caitlin’s accident. Except on the horse show circuit.

      Caitlin slid into the pickup, settling her cane against the floorboard. No. She’d never be a mother. She couldn’t really relate to Evelyn on a maternal level, and couldn’t transfer the concept to herself. Besides, she’d always looked forward to a career as an equestrian with a future in the field of animal science.

      What she hadn’t planned on was the crash.

      Facing forward in the seat, Caitlin looked at the windshield as Dillon drove through the gate and onto the county road. From there, they took a narrow dirt road to her new home. Caitlin noticed that the house on the old Bagley property across the road—a modest, two-story, pale yellow frame—no longer looked deserted…the For Sale sign gone. Curtains hung at the windows, chairs sat on the porch, and a blue Ford Ranger was parked out front.

      Huh. She hadn’t counted on neighbors, but it shouldn’t be a problem. In addition to the narrow road, enough space divided their yard from hers to give her plenty of privacy. Plus, a small area of her backyard was fenced off.

      “Here we are,” Dillon announced unnecessarily. He shot her the grin that made women swoon. “For what it’s worth, Cate, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

      “Thanks.” His support didn’t take her by surprise, since he’d always been there for her, yet still, it choked her up.

      “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a close eye on you,” he added. Dillon lived on his own horse ranch a few miles from Foxwood Farms, dividing his time between both places.

      “Yeah, yeah.” Caitlin grinned back at him as he turned off the ignition. But her grin turned to a frown as she opened the truck door and heard a familiar sound. A whinny, and not just any horse. Caitlin froze in her seat, staring at the four-stall barn and adjoining paddock behind the house. Silver Fox trotted back and forth along the fence, then stopped and hung his dapple-gray head over the rail. Ears perked, he stared at her with soft brown eyes, as though СКАЧАТЬ