The Rogue (22 page)

“It isn’t exactly necessary that I speak to the Major himself,” the man admitted, addressing himself to Holt. “I’m sure you can provide me with the information I’m seeking.”

“I’ll try,” Holt said with a pleasant, congenial air. “What is it you want to know?”

“We’ve heard reports at the Bureau that you’ve been having trouble with some mustangs,” he said.

“Where did you hear that?” There was a faintly amused and scoffing note in his question.

“You know how these stories get around.” The man laughed. “Somebody tells somebody else, and they tell somebody else. Sooner or later it filters through to us.”

“What did you hear?” Diana asked, silently holding her breath.

“That some wild stallion stole a couple of your mares.”

“We did have two mares that were missing,” Holt admitted. “We had to go out looking for them, but when we found them, there wasn’t any wild stallion with them.”

Diana’s lips twitched in amusement at the half-lie, half-truth. The white stallion hadn’t been with the mares when they had recovered them.

“Oh, I see,” the man hesitated. “We also heard rumors about a stallion fight. Was there anything to that?”

“Yes, unfortunately, there was.” Holt nodded. “We don’t know how it happened, since there weren’t any witnesses. Maybe somebody didn’t secure the latch properly on one of the stud pens. One of our stallions is dead and the other was injured,” he said, implying it was a result of a fight between the two.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” the man offered sympathetically.

“It was a loss,” Holt agreed. “The stallion that was killed was a proven stud. He isn’t going to be easy to replace.”

“I can imagine. I’ve heard the Major raises some high-priced horses. Well,” he sighed, “it looks like I’ve driven all the way out here for nothing. You don’t seem to be having any problems with the mustangs.”

“There’s plenty of water and forage this year,” Holt said as if that explained it.

“Yes, for a change.” The man slipped his hat back on his head, preparing to leave. “If you have any problems with the wild horses, will you contact us?”

“Not willingly.” Holt smiled dryly. “Personally, I think the present law protecting the wild mustangs stinks.”

The look Diana gave him was a mixture of anger and alarm, but the man didn’t seem upset by the remark. He chuckled and shook his head.

“It is an opinion shared by a majority of ranchers,” the man declared. “We’ll see you. Have a good day.”

“Same to you,” returned Holt.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Somers.”

“Yes. Good-bye, Mr. Jackson.” When the man had started his pickup and was reversing out of the yard, Diana turned to Holt, demanding, “Why on earth did you have to say a thing like that?”

“If I had been too cooperative, he might have gotten suspicious. As it is, I probably sounded no different than a hundred other ranchers he’s talked to.”

“I always believed you were cunning, but I never realized that you were such an excellent liar,” Diana retorted. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The pleasantness had left his face, leaving cool mockery in its place. He simply smiled and walked away.

“Tell the Major I’ll see him at seven-thirty tonight,” he offered over his shoulder.

Promptly at seven-thirty, Holt arrived at the main house. At the sound of his footsteps on the porch, Diana left the study and walked into the living room just as he entered.

“The Major is in his study.” Diana turned to lead him back the way she had just come.

The Major rose from behind his large walnut desk when they entered. “Holt,” he greeted him, reaching across the expansive desk to shake hands. “I’ve missed seeing you at lunch these last couple of days.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I know you have.” He nodded. “Diana, why don’t you bring us some coffee?”

She returned in a matter of minutes carrying a china service on a tray. The Major and Holt were engrossed in a discussion about a stallion Holt had seen. Setting it down on the desk, she began pouring. As Holt reached for his cup, he noticed the three cups on the tray. His gray gaze sliced to her, aware that Diana was including herself in this meeting.

As he sat back in his chair, Diana took her cup and sat in the wingbacked twin to his. She sipped at her coffee, letting the Major bring up the reason for the meeting in his own time. In the meantime, she made no attempt to take part in their discussion about the stallion and its breeding.

At last, Holt concluded with, “There are two more
stallions I want to see before I make my final decision.”

“I wasn’t aware yours was the final decision,” Diana inserted with cool dryness.

“The statement wasn’t meant to be taken literally,” Holt replied.

“Holt has an excellent eye for horses.” The Major seemed to defend him. “As a matter of fact, Holt is the one who selected Fath.”

Diana stared at the black mirror surface of her coffee, containing a surge of resentment. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“We still haven’t seen enough of his colts to be certain my choice was the right one,” Holt said.

“Enough to give promise,” the Major insisted. “But this is taking us off the track. I didn’t ask you to come here to discuss stallions, Holt.”

“I didn’t think so.” Holt drained his cup and set it back on the tray. “What did you want to talk to me about, Major?” His gaze glanced off Diana, aware that she was involved.

“Diana has expressed an interest in overseeing the operation of the ranch,” the Major stated.

“Which means I’m out of a job,” Holt countered, almost indolently relaxed and unconcerned.

“It doesn’t mean that at all,” the Major assured him, trying to smooth over the rough spot. “What Diana has in mind is assuming my role while I’m recovering. Your position would remain the same. You would only be answerable to a different party.”

An eyebrow arched in a dismissing gesture. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t work.”

“Why?” Diana spoke up, challenging. “Would it bother you to take orders from a woman?”

“I don’t object to taking orders from a woman,” Holt corrected, turning his flint-hard gaze to her, “only to taking them from you.” The glove of challenge was hurled back in her face.

“I know you and Diana have had your differences in
the past, but—” Her father attempted to lessen the tension suddenly sparking between them.

“I’m sorry, Major.” But there was no apology in Holt’s clipped voice. “If I don’t work for you, I don’t work here at all. Things either stay the way they are, or you indulge this whim of your daughter’s and I leave.”

Diana went cold, guessing what her father’s words would be before he said them. “Of course, I don’t want you to leave. Nor was it Diana’s wish, either.”

But the taunting glitter of Holt’s gray eyes seemed to dispute that claim. All Diana had wanted was to assume her rightful place as the Major’s daughter.

“Major”—her voice was shaking—“do you mind if I speak to Holt alone?”

Initially, her request was met with silence. Then her father rose from his chair. “Yes, perhaps it’s best if the two of you iron this out alone.”

After the Major had left the room, Holt rose from his chair and walked to the fireplace, resting a hand on the mantelpiece. Diana’s heart seemed to be pounding louder than the clock on the mantel.

“All right, Diana, what is it you have to say to me?” Holt challenged. “What do you have in mind? A little blackmail? I suppose you are going to threaten to tell the Major that I attacked you unless I agree to stay.”

His sarcasm took her breath away. “Are you going to deny that you did?” she demanded finally.

“And a very unwilling victim you were, too,” he mocked.

Diana pushed out of her chair, tremors quaking through her body. “It isn’t fair!” she declared stridently. “I’m his daughter, his own flesh and blood, his only child! I should be in charge, not you!”

Holt faced her, impassive and unyielding. “That is for the Major to say.”

“Why did you have to make him choose?” she cried, feeling her emotions being ripped apart. “You knew he would choose you, didn’t you?” Diana accused,
tears filling her eyes. “He always has picked you over me! Always!” Her hands doubled into fists.

“Diana, don’t be ridiculous.” He took a step toward her.

“It isn’t fair!” His broad chest offered an easy target for her blurred vision. She struck at it with her clenched fists, her breath breaking into angry sobs. Holt caught at her wrists, giving her a hard shake that snapped her head back.

“The Major made a business choice,” he insisted. “There was nothing personal in it.”

The rough shaking had stopped her sobbing breaths. Now hysterical and mocking laughter bubbled in her throat. “Wasn’t there?” Diana returned. “He’s never needed me. Why should he? He had you.” The tears began rolling down her cheeks, stream after stream.

“You don’t know what you are saying,” Holt muttered.

Diana could no longer see the blurred outline of his angular, male features. She was drawn inside the circle of his arms, her head forced to rest against his shoulder. She felt the point of his chin against her forehead, his hand uncertainly stroking the black silk of her hair.

“It’s true, Holt,” she mumbled against his shirt. “It’s been true ever since you came here.”

“No, Diana, it isn’t,” he said firmly.

Lifting her head in order to see his face, Diana found herself staring at his mouth, so well defined, strong, and male. Her mouth was open to speak, but no words came out. His hand stopped its stroking to cup the back of her head. Inch by slow inch, his mouth moved closer until his warm breath was playing over her nose and cheek and teasing her lips. Diana’s heart fluttered in anticipation. She was keenly aware of the male contours of his body against her curved shape. His gaze roamed over her face, coming to a rest on her parted lips.

His mouth made feather-light contact with hers. “I swore I wouldn’t get near—” Holt cut off the end of
the sentence he muttered against her lips and gave in to a compulsion stronger than his resistance.

Diana trembled at the initial hard and expert pressure of his kiss. As the first response tingled through her, she felt him stiffen a warning instantly before he abruptly broke it off. When he didn’t, her eyes opened onto his profile and the intense concentration etched there.

As if sensing her gaze, his low voice ordered: “Listen.” Her head moved in dazed protest. “Something is bothering the horses,” he explained in the same low, almost whispering, tone.

Over the hammering of her heart, Diana finally heard the disturbed sounds, curious whickers and alarmed snorts and restless movement. Yet there was no indication of panic.

“The stallion?” Diana made the suggestion a question.

A grimness settled into Holt’s face. “Yes.” He released her. “The stallion.”

His long strides carried him to the study door. Diana followed him at a running walk. There was no sign of the Major as they passed through the living room and out the screen door. Once outside, the direction of the sounds became discernible. They were coming from the large paddock where the mares and colts had been penned.

A half-moon gleamed silvery-white in the night sky to light their path. Holt vaulted the first fence they came to, not waiting for Diana as she climbed over it. She heard someone behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see Rube hurrying toward her.

“It’s that goddamned white stallion, ain’t it?” Rube hauled himself over the fence after her. “I heard the mares stirrin’ an’ knew right away what was excitin’ ’em.” He talked as he walked, a steady stream of chatter that Diana ignored.

Holt reached the paddock fence, ahead of them, climbing the rail to get an overall view of the pasture
area. Diana joined him, hooking a knee over the top rail for balance, and Rube did the same.

“There he is!” Diana pointed to the far end of the paddock.

On the other side of the distant fence, the moonlight glistened on the white coat of the stallion. He was pacing back and forth along the fence, seeming to float over the ground. Animated, his muscled neck arched, head tossing, his tail held high and streaming out behind him like a white banner, the stallion issued low, whickering calls to the mares, cajoling, coaxing, and persuading. They were slowly succumbing to his equine charm, the uncertainty of alarm leaving their responses.

Diana was mesmerized by the sight, unaware of the other ranch hands who had joined them, drawn by the disturbance. Deaf to their whispered exclamations, she didn’t hear the word from Holt that galvanized them all into action. Nothing pierced the entrancing scene until the shouts and whistles from the men scattered the shadowy shapes of the mares grouped near the far fence line. The white stallion froze into an alert statue of animated expectancy, eyeing his two-legged enemies. Tossing his head, the stallion pivoted with the grace of a dancer and sped into the night.

“So that was the wild stallion.” The Major was standing at the fence, slightly winded, excitement and grimness quarreling with each other in his expression. “I wish I’d gotten a better look at him.”

“Magnificent, isn’t he?” Diana murmured.

“Like no mustang I’ve ever seen,” he admitted.

With the stallion gone, the men began to filter back, talking among themselves. Holt’s familiar shape separated from the others to come to the fence where Diana and the Major waited. The moonlight bronzed his lean features, making silver chips of his eyes.

“He’ll be back,” he predicted flatly. “We’ll have to keep a man on watch, take four-hour shifts.”

“I agree,” the Major said, although he hadn’t been consulted.

“Maybe we’ll be lucky and he’ll give up after a few unsuccessful attempts to steal our mares.” Holt stared at the dark mountains where the stallion had fled.

“No doubt he will.” The Major glanced at them. “The two of you, did you—”

“You don’t need to worry about losing Holt,” Diana interrupted. “We’ve come to an understanding. He’ll continue running things and I’ll stay out of his way. I will keep on working with the horses, halter-breaking the new foals, and I thought I’d help you with the bookwork, but that’s all.”