She continued to stare over his shoulder, then ?nally relented and motioned with her chin toward the new circular enclosure. Win turned his head and spotted a magni?cent black horse prancing around in the corral. His breath caught and held as he watched the stallion shake its regal head, its mane ?owing like an ebony river. The animal must have been concealed by the barn when Win had arrived because he surely would have noticed him.
“He’s our hope to breed and sell more than the runofthemill cattle horses,” Cait continued, her voice not quite steady. “He’s got champion blood running through his veins.”
“Wild?”
She nodded and slid her hands into her pockets. “Me and Pa caught him in the foothills about a month ago. We got half his mares, too.” Her voice possessed a hint of pride.
Win whistled low. “You did good.”
Cait’s lips curled downward. “Except he won’t let anyone near him.” She cleared her throat. “Deil can’t be tamed.”
“Deil?”
“The stallion. It means ‘devil’ in Scottish.”
Win turned back to the stallion, surprised to see it watching them, as if knowing he was the subject of their conversation. “If he can’t be tamed, why did your father send for me?”
“Because Pa ?gured you were the only man who had a chance.”
Win smiled. Tremayne had always respected the abilities of both Win and his father, Adam, to gentle even the most savage horse. He glanced around. “Where is Tremayne?” He grinned wryly. “In town drinking his supper like he and Pa used to do?”
There was a long moment of silence. “He’s dead,” she said without emotion, her arms crossed tightly.
Win reeled with shock, his mind unwilling to accept the ?at pronouncement. “When?”
She shrugged. “Two weeks ago.”
“I’m sorry,” he managed to say past the godawful lump in his throat. Tremayne had been more like an uncle than a friend.
“Me, too.” Cait’s reticence slipped and Win glimpsed the pain beneath her toughasgristle exterior. Suddenly, Win saw a little girl in the woman’s place. Young Cait had caught a butter?y, and ran to him, eager and excited to share her treasure. But when she opened her hand to let it ?y away home, the green and blue butter?y was dead. Tears had dribbled down her rosy cheeks and Win, two years older, had comforted her with an awkward hug and a gentle punch to her arm.
Win wanted to do the same now, but suspected Cait would thump
Cait cleared her throat and the brief vulnerability vanished. “I’m sorry about your father, too.”
“Thanks, but it’s been two years.” He paused, and couldn’t help adding with more than a hint of accusation, “You didn’t come to the funeral.”
Her slender ?ngers curled into her palms and her lips thinned. “Pa was there.”
Win took a deep breath, knowing he would only stir up the past more than he had already if he told her he’d missed her. “I wish you’d wired me about Tremayne. I would’ve liked to pay my respects.” His words came out harsher than he’d intended.
“It only would’ve made things harder.” She stared past him again. “I didn’t need you.”
Win studied her proud carriage and sighed. “No, you never did, did you?” he said too softly for her to hear. Fighting both annoyance and guilty acknowledgment, he ?shed around for a lesspainful subject. “When did you build the barn and second busting pen?”
Her defensiveness eased, but her taut shoulders revealed continuing wariness. “Six years ago for the barn. The corral was put up last month, right before we rounded up the wild horses.” She motioned to the barn and the network of corrals beyond the copse of trees. “This was Pa’s dream.”
Win nodded. “I remember. It was all he talked about- building a horse ranch where folks would come to buy the best horses.” He studied the pale oval of her face through the growing dusk. “It was your dream, too.”
Cait gazed into the fading brilliance of the sunset. Her skin re?ected the orange tint of the western horizon. “It still is.” She motioned toward the stallion again. “On his deathbed, Pa asked me to bring you here to tame Deil.”
She faced him, then, and met his gaze. “If it were up to me, I wouldn’t have sent you that telegram.” She paused, and confessed hoarsely, “I never wanted to see you again.”
After all the years of believing what he’d done was the right thing, her confession shouldn’t have hurt, but it did. Yet he’d brought it on himself. He’d wronged her and her father, and had tried to make it right by disappearing from their lives. But he owed them, and Tremayne’s last wish would be his penance. He’d tame the stallion so Cait could attain the dream for both her and her father.
“I understand,” Win ?nally said. “I’ll leave as soon as the stallion’s ready.”
All emotion seeped from Cait’s features. “I’ll pay you a dollar a day plus room and board.”
“You don’t have to-”
“Yes, I do. This is strictly business.” Steel glinted in her eyes.
“I ain’t likely to forget,” Win said dryly.
“See that you don’t. You can sleep in the barn. Breakfast is at six.”
“Fine.”
Cait grabbed her ri?e, spun around, and marched back into the cabin. She paused in the doorway and called over her shoulder, “I’m a light sleeper and I keep the ri?e next to the bed.” With that notsosubtle warning, Cait entered the cabin.
A light ?ickered and swelled from within, dappling pale light onto the porch. Win remained rooted in place, watching her shadowy ?gure against the thin curtains until a cool breeze smelling of rain blew across his face.
Win unwrapped his gelding’s reins and led his horse toward the barn. He paused by the corral where Deil stood motionless, neck arched imperiously as he stared down at Win.
“So, Deil, are you really the devil?” he asked, meeting the stallion’s haughty gaze.
The devil reared up on its hind legs and trumpeted a shrill whinny.
Win instinctively stepped back, even though Deil had no chance of touching him. The ?rst raindrops began to patter against the hard ground, giving Win an excuse to retreat.
Deil would de?nitely be a challenge, but taming the stallion would be a cakewalk compared to trying to tame his mistress.
AFTERlighting the kerosene lamp, Cait lowered herself to the rocking chair, which had been her father’s favorite place in the evenings. Ever since his death, she’d felt comforted by the rhythmic motion of the chair. Sometimes she closed her eyes and remembered how she used to clamber into his lap when she was small and demand he tell her a story.
Sitting there now, Cait could almost hear the faint Scottish burr in his low, rumbly voice. A tear rolled down her cheek, surprising her. She didn’t think she had any left, but informing Win of her pa’s death brought back the razorsharp sorrow.
Ever since she’d walked into the telegraph of?ce nine days ago to carry out her father’s last wish, she’d been preparing herself to see Win again. She thought she was ready; after all, ten years was nearly half a lifetime ago. However, the brittle reality of seeing him in the ?esh released a ?ood of memories-some sad, some happy, but mostly painful.
For nearly ten years, she’d immersed herself in her and her father’s dream. Now twenty?ve, Cait was a spinster, but she’d made that choice herself. Her father hadn’t understood, but he hadn’t pressed either. She was glad he hadn’t. How could she have told him how stupid and naive she’d been? Not one to shirk responsibility even back then, Cait knew she was as much to blame for what happened that night as Win. But when Win had ridden away the next morning without even saying goodbye, Cait’s love for her longtime friend gradually turned to hatred.
Unable to remain sitting, Cait stood and paced the length of the tworoom cabin. She paused by a window and eased the curtain back to gaze at Deil. Her free hand clenched into a ?st as the knot in her stomach tightened. If it were up to her, the stallion would’ve been put down on the day he murdered her pa.
Instead, Cait had been forced by her dying father to send for the man she despised to tame the horse she
