Lone Stallion's Lady (12 page)

Except from Trent. He hadn’t quite forgiven her for the lies she’d told him in Dallas. Not that she could really blame him, she supposed, but looking at him now, she felt her heart thump deep in her chest. He sat low on his back, regarding everyone with guarded eyes, as if he trusted no one. Which he probably didn’t. For a second she thought of this morning, how intimate they’d been, then she looked quickly away and tried to concentrate.

“…so I got together with Wayne here.” Garrett motioned to his cousin, seated to his left. Wayne, a lean, wiry man with tanned, lined skin and the same startling blue eyes as Garrett’s, half stood and nodded a full head of silvering blond hair. “And along with a few other
people who were involved with this ranch, I decided that I’d buy it back and divide it between all of you. Until now Wayne’s managed this place, but he lives in town. Rand Harding’s our foreman and he and his wife Suzanne are occupying the foreman’s quarters. They’ll stay on, along with some of the hands who’ve been working here for years.”

He paused to eye each of his grandsons, then continued. “Now, before you all start talking about not being interested in the spread, or not needing it or not even wanting to be bothered ranching, just hold on. I’m thinking the place will be kind of a touchstone, a place you can all own and where you can all connect. Those who want to run it, well, okay, those who want to be silent partners, that’s okay, too.” Again he hesitated, tapped his fingers nervously on the ancient oak table. “Well, hell, there’s no way to say this other than straight out.” He looked at each man in turn. “My son Larry didn’t do right by any of you and I want to make it up to you and make you feel wanted—all part of the Kincaid family.”

Gina watched the men’s faces. They were all serious now, staring at the man they hadn’t known was their grandfather. Blake and Trent, seated next to each other, acted as if there was a wall between them.

Adam Benson, the oldest, sat next to Wayne Kincaid. Gina wasn’t sure she liked the brooding man who hadn’t bothered hiding his arrogance. She could well believe that he was a corporate raider by trade. He was wearing
a starched white shirt, power tie and sleek navy-blue business suit. Hawklike, he silently observed the scene around him, and Gina could almost see the wheels turning in his mind.

On the opposite side of the table, Mitch Fielding tapped work-roughened fingers on the arm of his chair. His expression was serene, as if all the melodrama of his biological father didn’t bother him a bit. With sandy-brown hair, streaked by hours working under the sun, and hazel eyes that were warm and filled with energy, Mitch seem to accept what Garrett and Wayne proposed without much concern. His plaid shirt was clean but worn, his jeans, too, had seen better days, yet he was as unconcerned about his appearance as he seemed about all the fuss about the land.

“You want us all as equal partners?” Adam asked.

“Yes,” Garrett said as Wayne nodded.

Adam leaned forward. “Once you called, I did a little research on the place. It’s held in trust, right? For a Jennifer McCallum—”

“She’s a Kincaid, as well,” Garrett interjected. “A cousin, like Wayne here.”

“I’m one of the trustees,” Wayne said, “but we all voted and have agreed to sell the ranch to Garrett. It’s unanimous.”

“And there are no liens?” Adam asked, his face a study in concentration.

“No.” Garrett shook his head.

Wayne agreed. “We’d already decided to sell the
place when Garrett came up with the idea to buy it and give it all to you.”

“And you’re doing this with no strings attached.” Adam’s dubious gaze was centered on his grandfather.

“All I ask is that you stay as long as you want, get to know each other, become a part of the family.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mitch said.

Adam’s mouth became a thin line of distrust. “I don’t believe in getting something for nothing.”

Trent’s jaw twitched a bit, as if he’d had the very same thought. He caught Gina’s eye, held it for a minute, then leaned back in his chair even further and glanced away.

“I think it’s a hell of an idea.” Cade Redstone slapped his hand on the table. Gina guessed it took a lot to intimidate this rough-and-tumble cowboy. Ranch-tough, Cade was a strong-willed, no-nonsense man who had traveled all the way from his stepfather’s spread in Texas. Cade met Adam’s hard glare and didn’t back down for a second. “A hell of an idea,” he repeated.

“I didn’t say it was a bad idea, I just had a few questions.”

“As well you should,” Garrett cut in, spreading his hands as if he were indeed pouring oil on troubled waters. “As well you should.”

“Didn’t you sell off twenty acres awhile back to the Laughing Horse reservation?” Adam zeroed in on Wayne.

“That’s right. They needed it for a hotel and spa.”

“And a casino.”

“Maybe,” Wayne agreed.

“But it won’t have any bearing on the rest of the land?” Adam wasn’t convinced.

“That’s right,” Garrett answered. He leaned forward and impaled his firstborn grandson with his own hard glare.

“Even if it did, we could work things out through the county,” Brandon Harper, the second of Larry’s sons, thought out loud. He stuck two fingers under his collar and loosened his tie. An investment banker who’d made his fortune on his own, he was used to dealing with property disputes and seemed to relish any kind of battle, be it legal or otherwise. Blue eyes, so much like his grandfather’s, held Adam’s. He didn’t flinch. “It’s not a problem,” he said with authority.

Adam wasn’t about to back down. Underlying currents of tension snapped in the air. Every man in the room had his own personal ax to grind and grind it he would.

“I think Brandon’s right.” Garrett took charge again. Though the least volatile of any man at the table, he was a force to be reckoned with. “Besides, I didn’t call you together to hassle over the legalities of what I’m doing. I just wanted to start us out together, on the same page. Now, Gina here is convinced that there’s another boy out there somewhere, a young one, still a baby.”

“A boy Larry fathered?” Brandon asked, tossing back a hank of black hair that fell over his eyes.

“Yes.” Garrett sighed and tapped his knuckles on the table. “Unless that notation in his journal’s a fake. You
all saw it there, in the box.” He moved his gaze from one grandson to the next. “Now, I’d suggest we all have lunch and get to know each other. I believe Rand and Suzanne have things ready on the back porch.”

He scraped his chair back and the others did the same. A few men tried to make small talk. Mitch and Cade were the most outgoing. Blake tried to draw Brandon into conversation while Adam kept to himself and Trent shot Gina a look that reminded her of their encounter in the bathroom. Her skin flushed, but she ignored it and muttered as she passed him, “I think it would be a good idea if you tried to connect with your brothers.”

“Half brothers.” Scowling, he fell into step with Gina and sighed. “The old man’s a fool, you know. All this idealistic, maudlin crap. He feels guilty because his son was a first-class jerk, but that doesn’t mean any of us will ever get along or want to have anything to do with each other.”

The caustic sound of his words scraped her raw. “It wouldn’t hurt you to try, Trent,” she said, coming to Garrett’s defense swiftly. Pivoting to face him, she poked a finger at the middle of his chest. “And while I’m giving advice, why don’t you lose the attitude, okay?” Her voice escalated passionately. “You’re damned lucky to know your grandfather and no matter what Larry might have been, Garrett Kincaid is one extremely earnest, decent, hardworking and fair man. Things could be worse. A lot worse. Think about it!”

With that, she marched out of the dining room, not
giving one damn who had heard her outburst. Trent Remmington was the most irritating, exciting, passionate man she’d ever met in her life, but she wasn’t going to listen to anyone second-guess Garrett’s intentions. And if Adam Benson or any of the other half brothers opened his mouth against Garrett, he’d get a piece of her mind, as well.

Still steaming, she walked through the French doors to a back porch where the afternoon temperature was already climbing. Country music was playing softly from a radio propped on the windowsill. A long picnic table had been covered with a plaid cloth anchored by platters and serving dishes steaming in the shade of the porch’s overhang. Suzanne and Rand were smiling as they met Larry’s sons. A pretty woman Gina recognized as Janie, a waitress from the Hip Hop Café helped the half brothers load their plates while a weak breeze turned the leaves of the cottonwoods standing guard near the fence line.

The tangy scent of barbecued chicken vied with the aromas of baked beans and garlic bread. Gina’s stomach rumbled softly, yet she didn’t think she could swallow a single bite. A barrel of ice held soft drinks and bottles of beer, while a coffee urn stood ready at one end of the picnic table. Yellow jackets had already begun buzzing near the overflowing platters, and the dog, ever vigilant, lay just at the edge of the porch, head in his paws, brown eyes bright and expectant as he hoped for a tidbit tossed his way or a scrap to fall to the floor.

“Danged bees,” Garrett rumbled, swatting at a pesky yellow jacket that hovered near his head.

“They won’t each much,” Wayne said.

“They’d better not, or I’ll shoot ’em.” Rand winked at his wife who rolled her eyes.

“Behave, Rand Harding,” Suzanne teased. She glanced at Gina. “I swear sometimes I’m afraid to take him out in public.” She touched her husband’s chin. “You’d better mind your manners, or I won’t let you go to Leanne’s wedding.” As if she realized Gina might not understand, she scooped up a spoonful of beans and as she plopped them onto a plate added, “Leanne is Rand’s younger sister and she’s getting married soon. It wouldn’t do to have him show what a true bumpkin he is.”

“Careful, woman,” Rand growled softly, leaning closer to her. “I might just have to show you who’s boss.”

Suzanne tossed back her head and laughed. Her auburn hair fell down her back in soft waves and a few of the men glanced at her in open admiration. “Oh, right. That’ll be the day, cowboy.”

Rand’s smile was one of wicked amusement and without so much as opening his mouth, he silently conveyed to his wife what he planned to do to her if she tried to tell him what to do. Again, Suzanne laughed in pure, loving delight.

Gina’s heartstrings tugged at the playful banter.

“You’re the foreman, right?” Cade Redstone, balancing a full plate, asked Rand as he placed a slab of garlic bread on his plate.

Rand nodded. “Yep. You thinkin’ about stayin’ on?”

“Not just thinkin’ about it. I plan to stick around at least for the summer and I want to work. I’ve been around horses and cattle all my life.”

“Consider yourself signed up,” Rand said, and clapped Cade on the shoulder.

Trent had sauntered onto the deck and snagged a bottle of beer. Twisting off the top, he started a conversation with Adam Benson.

Well, it was a beginning, Gina supposed.

Gina accepted a plate from Janie, but realized as she smelled the tangy chicken that she wouldn’t be able to eat a bite. Her stomach instantly roiled at the sight of the food. She tried to blame it on the tense conversation in the dining room, on the excitement of meeting the men she’d spent days searching for, on being keyed up whenever she was around Trent, but deep inside she suspected her lack of appetite and nausea were from another source.

Enough of this, she thought, angry with herself when she realized that she’d been afraid to find out the truth. It was time to face the future. As soon as possible, come hell or high water, she was going to go into town and stop by the local pharmacy. Once there she’d buy a pregnancy test kit, bring it back to the ranch, and use it. Then she’d know for sure whether or not she was carrying Trent Remmington’s baby.

“S
o, you’ve got it bad for the investigator lady.” Blake’s comment wasn’t a question. He stood, leaning a shoulder on the doorjamb, sipping from a long-necked bottle of beer as the newfound half brothers talked between themselves. They’d eaten, had dessert and were now milling around in smaller groups. Wayne and Garrett were about to take some of the heirs on a tour; Adam Benson had disappeared into the house. Gina had ducked out. Brandon Harper had flung a few questions about family history toward the twins, but was now striking up a conversation with Suzanne Harding, so Blake had cornered Trent.

“What makes you think I’ve got it bad for anyone?”

“It’s written all over your face. You couldn’t take
your eyes off of her during that meeting and, remember, I know you. We’re the only two people here who share the same mother.” Blake’s eyes, so much like his own, held his. “Come on, no more B.S. What’s up?”

There wasn’t much reason to lie. “As you know, I met Gina a few weeks ago,” Trent admitted.

“Why don’t we drive into town and I’ll buy you a real beer at the Branding Iron? You can tell me all about it on the way.” He shoved his hair out of his eyes. “While you’re at it, maybe you can explain what makes this ranch tick.”

“I didn’t think you were interested in ranching.”

“I wasn’t, but I’ve changed.” Blake frowned and picked at the label on his bottle. “Divorce does that.”

“You and Elaine were never right for each other.”

“Amen.” They both drained their bottles and left them on a table. As they walked out the front door they spied Garrett pointing out the bunkhouse, stable, machine sheds and various outbuildings to the sons of Larry who were interested in the ranch.

Trent wasn’t certain he was in that particular category, but he wasn’t alone. Benson seemed to want no part of his Whitehorn legacy.

As he and Blake walked to his twin’s car, Trent slapped at a horsefly that hadn’t figured out the herd was in the west pasture. The warmth of a bright Montana sun beat against the back of his neck and he couldn’t help but smile when he spied a frantic white-faced calf, bawling and running awkwardly toward the herd in search of his mother.

Trent slid into the passenger seat. He’d never been particularly close to Blake, but wondered for the first time in his life if that had been a mistake.

Blake slipped into the driver’s seat and shoved a key into the ignition. “Can you believe Larry Kincaid is our father? I mean, we’ve had some time to think about it, but never really discussed it.” The Acura roared to life.

“Nope. But then, I was never close to Harold.” Trent focused on a copse of aspens in one of the fields. Horses stood head to rump in the shade, their tails swatting at flies, their ears pricked. Coats from dun to black gleamed in the sunlight and Trent, for the first time in his life, felt a bonding with the land. But that was bull. He’d never felt anything close to roots in his life. Just as he’d never been able to settle down with one woman. But staring out the window to the stubble of freshly mown fields, Gina’s image appeared in his mind’s eye—her quick smile, wavy red hair and flashing green eyes.

Blake snorted. “Mom ran Harold ragged when she was alive.” He threw the car into reverse, backed up, then jammed it into drive. “I just wish she’d told us about Larry before she died.”

“Would’ve been thoughtful,” Trent agreed, not wanting to think too long or hard on the fact that Barbara Simms Remmington had given up her fight with cancer—one final battle that she hadn’t won. “But then, Mom always did things her way.”

Blake slipped a pair of wraparound sunglasses onto
the bridge of his nose. “Do you think Larry ever thought about contacting us?”

Trent lifted a shoulder. “Who knows? Garrett told me there was a letter once, one that she wrote sometime after she found out she was going to die.” He cleared his throat. “Supposedly she told Larry about us but warned him to keep his distance because we’d grown up to be fine young men or some such trash and didn’t want him messing things up.”

Blake’s hands tightened on the wheel as he attempted to avoid potholes in the rutted lane. Long, dry grass brushed the undercarriage of the low-slung car. “Guess he took her advice,” Trent observed.

“Probably didn’t want to be bothered with a couple more kids.”

“Fine guy, our father.”

“The best.” Blake slowed for the highway, saw no traffic and gunned it. The Acura sprang forward, wheeling onto the main road, tires spinning gravel before connecting with asphalt.

“So where is this letter?”

Trent lifted a shoulder. “Who knows? I didn’t see it in that Pandora’s box that Celia—er, Gina passed around today.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed as he stared through his dark lenses and punched in the radio. Smooth jazz filtered through the speakers. “You called Gina ‘Celia’?”

Trent’s jaw hardened. It was just like his brother to pick up on any little error. “Just a mistake.”

Raising a dark eyebrow identical to his twin’s, Blake said, “Better be careful and keep your women straight. One doesn’t like to be called by another’s name.”

“How would you know?” Trent asked, irritated at his brother all over again. That was the trouble with Blake. Any time Trent had felt the slightest bit of brotherly affection for him, Blake would do something anal and irritating and self-righteous. It was enough to remind Trent that he was better off fending for himself.

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Blake said, and Trent had a glimmer that there was more to his brother than met the eye, a darker side filled with his own secrets. Well, well, well. They pulled up behind a tractor chugging down the road while pulling a trailer stacked high with hay bales. Blake eased into the oncoming lane, punched it, and the Acura surged past the farmer to settle back into the right lane and eat up the miles.

“I thought you were always a one-girl guy,” Trent said as they neared the town.

“For the most part,” Blake hedged, and didn’t elaborate as he took a corner a little too fast and the tires whined. “But you weren’t.” He drove over a final rise and the town of Whitehorn appeared, rising out of the ranch land in a cluster of old and new buildings. “So now we’re back to it,” Blake said, easing off the accelerator as they passed a Welcome To Whitehorn sign followed closely by a new speed limit. “What’s the deal with Gina?”

Gina eyed the home pregnancy tests on a shelf in the town pharmacy, decided they were all about the same and tucked a box under her arm. Though she hardly knew anyone in the store, she stupidly felt self-conscience, as if she were wearing a bright neon sign that said she thought she might be pregnant.

“Get over it,” she mumbled to herself. People took the tests every day.

But not you. Until last month, you were a twenty-seven-year-old virgin.

Ignoring the gibe, she grabbed a tube of toothpaste, a roll of film, the latest edition of the
Whitehorn Journal
and a bottle of shampoo, then walked to the register. The cashier, who was barely eighteen from the looks of her, was snapping gum and blinking as if she was just getting used to contacts. She took an eternity ringing up the items.

The pharmacist, standing on a raised platform behind a half wall displaying over-the-counter medications, vitamins and herbs, was busily filling prescriptions. Throughout the store country music was playing softly over the whir of ceiling fans.

Shifting from one foot to the other, Gina had her wallet out of her purse and wondered if anyone in Whitehorn had ever heard of merchandise scanners. A skinny man in rimless glasses and smelling as if he hadn’t bathed in this century got in line behind her, and another girl, one Lily Mae had pointed out to her as Christina Montgomery, clutching more hair-care and
beauty products than she could hold without a basket, stood a few feet from the smelly man.

Eventually the girl at the register had totaled up her bill and sang out the amount. Gina fished in her wallet and came up with a couple of bills.

“Have a nice day,” the girl at the register intoned automatically as she handed Gina her change.

“You, too.” Gina scooped up her bag and, hoping the damned pregnancy test wasn’t visible through the white paper, spied Winona Cobbs flipping through the magazine rack. That was the trouble with a small town, a person couldn’t help but run into someone she knew. With a quick smile and wave in Winona’s direction, Gina beelined past the latest in foot balms, bath oil beads and denture cleansers to the front door.

Outside the sun was bright, the afternoon warm. It had been nearly an hour since the gathering of Kincaid brothers had begun to splinter apart.

When she’d spied Trent with Blake, nursing beers and surveying the countryside, Gina had run upstairs, grabbed her purse and hightailed it outside to her Explorer, only pausing long enough to make a quick excuse to Garrett. Then she’d driven like a madwoman into town. Her pulse had been hammering, a headache pounding behind her eyes. She’d almost felt guilty, like a convict on the run, as she’d pushed the speed limit through the hills on her way into town.

How foolish. Now, balancing her bag, Gina reached into the purse slung over her shoulder and slipped a pair
of sunglasses onto her nose. Searching for her keys, she looked into a deep pocket, not paying attention as she rounded a corner and slammed into a man walking in the opposite direction.

“Oh!” She nearly stumbled. The newspaper dropped from beneath her arm and the bag from the pharmacy slipped from her fingers. Large male hands grabbed her shoulders, keeping her upright, and with a sinking sensation she realized she’d just run smack-dab into Trent Remmington.

She dropped her keys and they jangled as they hit the cement.

Oh, God. The pregnancy test! “I—I didn’t see you,” she stammered as she felt her face turn a dozen shades of red.

Pull yourself together, Gina.

“I figured that,” he said dryly, and to her mortification she realized he wasn’t alone. Blake was just a step behind. Blake reached down, stuffed the toothpaste and film that had spilled onto the sidewalk into the bag and handed the sorry-looking sack with its contents back to her.

Gina scrambled for the keys glinting in the sunlight.

“Fancy running into you,” she quipped, managing what she hoped appeared to be a nonchalant smile though her heart was drumming a million beats a second. What if he saw the pregnancy test, guessed that she thought she might be carrying his baby? “I, um, I thought I already told you we have to quit meeting like this.”

Trent released her. “My thoughts exactly,” he said dryly,
but no smile toyed at those razor-thin lips. His eyebrows had slammed together and his nostrils flared slightly.

He knew. Oh, God, he knew! “I, um, have to get going. I’ll see you back at the ranch.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Blake said, but he, too, sober as a judge, didn’t so much as crack a smile. A horrible, sinking sensation pounded through Gina’s already aching head. She was certain that her secret was out. The irony of it was, she didn’t know herself if she was pregnant or not.

Garrett had the feeling that something was going to blow. The tension between Gina and Trent was nearly palpable, like the electricity that charges the air just before a thunderstorm breaks.

It was just a matter of time.

He walked to the stables where the smell of horses and dry hay met him. Rand was in the third stall examining a mare who had been favoring a front leg.

“How is she?”

“Ornery,” Rand said as he bent the foreleg back and straddled it while keeping one eye on the palomino’s head. Though she was tethered, Mandy had been known to take a nip out of man’s hide. “As usual.” He was poking the inside of the hoof, watching the mare’s reaction. As the mare shifted, he growled, “Don’t even think about it,” then to Garrett, “What’s up?”

“Nothing good,” Garrett replied as his thoughts turned back to Trent and Gina. It was obvious those two
were falling in love, they just didn’t know it yet. “I’m going into town later to interview a couple of gals who are interested in doing the cooking out here. One looks pretty good. She’s got a son and would like a live-in arrangement. Thought you might pass that information on to Suzanne. Just in case you see her before I do.”

“She’ll be relieved,” Rand admitted. “She’s got her hands full with the books, Mack, and Joe.”

“How’s that son of yours?”

Rand looked up and grinned. Proud as a peacock, he was. “Couldn’t be better.” The horse shifted and tossed her head. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Rand said to the mare.

“I’ll see you around.” Garrett slapped the rail of the stall, then headed outside where the sun was bright. Rubbing the back of his neck, he eyed the parking lot.

The lot was pretty empty. Trent and Blake had driven into town.

So had Gina. Separately.

Probably just a coincidence, and yet the feeling that there was going to be trouble lingered with Garrett as he made his way to his truck. He opened the door and slid into the sun-warmed interior, then poked his key into the ignition. Trent and Gina weren’t like oil and water, he decided, ramming the gearshift into reverse, backing up, then nosing the old truck toward the lane. Nope, those two were more like gasoline and a lit match.

A dangerous and extremely volatile combination.

Someone was bound to get burned.