Bet You'll Marry Me (16 page)

She must be the stupidest girl on the planet to have believed Nick cared for her. Heck, she'd even daydreamed he was in
love
with her. And she with him.

Love.

A sharp ache tore through her heart. Filled her with despair. Tormented her soul. Was there no one out there in the world for her? Would she live the rest of her life alone?

She didn't like wallowing in self-pity any more than a knee-high pile of manure. Better to keep moving. Chores needed to be done—at least for one more day—and she didn't want to give Harry an excuse to start working again.

Jenny climbed out of bed, dressed in her barn clothes and descended the stairs. She was halfway across the kitchen when the sound of shattering glass drew her attention. She changed direction and hurried into the living room.

“Wayne? Are you all right?”

His unshaven face hovered over the bar, the broken stem of a crystal goblet in his right hand and a bottle of scotch in his other.

“Sorry about the mess,” Wayne said, his sullen expression instantly contrite.

“I'll clean up.” Jenny bent to pick up the pieces and waved him off toward the door.

Wayne hesitated, and then sauntered away, taking the bottle of scotch with him.

Poor Wayne. Billie's absence had the same effect on him as Nick's absence had on her.

She stared at the broken glass stretched across the carpet, each shard a glistening reminder that it had once been part of something beautiful.

J
ENNY PULLED THE
blue tarp off the hay bales, loaded the wheelbarrow, and headed toward the makeshift corrals. The horses pawed the ground and snorted as she approached, anxious to get their food.

“Sorry, I'm late,” she said, and tossed them each a flake of alfalfa. “I know how impatient—”

Jenny did a double take. Kastle pranced with the others . . . without favoring the injured leg.

She slipped inside the pen and unwrapped the bandage around the mare's hock. No swelling. Perhaps the herbs she'd put on the wrap had speeded the recovery. Could the horse be healed?

Jenny finished feeding the other horses. Then she rode Kastle bareback down to the river to see how much pressure the mare could handle. Kastle was restless. The horse pulled at the reins and wanted to fly. The rhythm of hooves increased the rhythm of Jenny's heart, and her thoughts headed straight toward the Pine Tree Dash. Was Kastle up for it?

If the mare showed any sign of weakness, she'd drop out of the race. She'd never cripple an animal to save her ranch. But if she won? Could she get the prize money to the bank manager in time?

Her father once told her she was only a failure if she stopped trying—and, by golly, she wasn't going to give up now. Her ancestors were fighters, and so was she.

“C'mon, girl,” Jenny said, and turned Kastle back toward the ranch. “We have a race to win.”

 

Chapter Seventeen

J
ENNY LOADED
S
TARFIRE'S
tack into the horse trailer the following morning, her mind bursting with renewed hope.

“Got company,” Wayne warned.

She expected to see Sarah. Harry had said she'd planned to visit.

But it was that devil, Irene Johnson, who walked straight toward her. Except her blond curls lacked their usual bounce, and instead of high heels, the woman had actually donned a pair of brown loafers.

What the heck was
she
doing here?

In all the years Jenny had known her, Irene had never stepped foot on the ranch. Jenny turned from the trailer to face her. Both Harry and Wayne drew near.

“Hi, Jenny.”

Jenny tried to think of something civil to say. Nothing came to mind.

Irene held up her hand. “Look. I know what you think of me, but I thought you should know the truth.”

Jenny crossed her arms over her chest. “What truth?”

“Billie owes a lot of money to an Atlantic City casino owner and Nick couldn't pull cash out of N.L.C. Industries to help her. The three parcels he owns in Pine were originally purchased to build a new shipping center. Nick thought he could sell them to get the money, but only one buyer was interested.”

“Stewart Davenport,” Jenny stated, her voice dry.

“It was Davenport who put the idea in Nick's head to try to woo the land from you. He said he wouldn't buy Nick's land unless yours was included in the deal. Don't you see? Nick was just trying to get the money to protect his sister.”

“It doesn't excuse what he did to
me
,” Jenny said.

“He may have come with wrong intentions, but he didn't actually
do
anything to hurt you, did he? You just assumed he would. He asked you to trust him and you refused.” Irene sighed. “Nick isn't asking for his original
intentions
to be excused. Maybe all he hopes for is a little understanding and forgiveness.”

Irene gave her a hard look before she walked away, and Jenny bit her lip. She hated the way Irene made her feel.

Like
she
was the bad guy.

T
HE SMELL OF
fresh-baked garlic and Parmesan-cheese bread wafted from the bakery when Jenny, Wayne, and Harry arrived in the old extended-cab pickup to offer Sarah a ride to the race.

“I don't think I can go,” Sarah said.

Harry frowned. “Why not?”

“I think someone needs to keep an eye on Billie,” Sarah told them, her soft face creasing. “She hasn't slept in three days and has been roving around town like a zombie. I don't think she really meant to hurt you, Jenny. I don't think either of them did. Nick looks just as bad. I saw him this morning but it didn't seem like he was really there, if you know what I mean.”

Jenny didn't want to cave in to feeling sorry for them, to believe they cared, but her chest tightened anyway.

“Where are they now?” Jenny asked.

“Billie is behind the bakery.”

“She's here?”

Jenny thought of the connection she'd felt the day Billie had burned dinner, the sympathetic look the tomboy had given her when she'd taken her mother's ring to the pawn shop. The fun they'd had digging for gold. Fun dressing in their gowns for the dance. Her throat closed and she turned to give the others an apologetic look.

“I'm sorry. I may be an idiot, but . . . I have to go to her.”

Wayne's face lit into a slow grin. “So do I.”

Jenny rounded the back corner of the bakery and found Billie on the ground, propped against a giant old-fashioned wooden water barrel with her eyes closed.

“C'mon, wake up.” She gave each of her friend's cheeks a light slap.

Wayne shook Billie's shoulder.

Jenny poked her in the ribs and exchanged a quick glance with Wayne. “She isn't responding. Sarah said she hadn't slept in three days and when Billie
does
sleep she's impossible to wake up. What are we going to do?”

“Get wet.”

A crooked grin broke out across Wayne's face and lit his eyes as he gazed down at Billie with a look of tender adoration. Then he scooped Billie into his arms and threw her feet first into the water barrel.

The spray flew into the air and rained cold droplets over their heads. A wave spilled over the barrel's rim. Then the surface of the water bubbled, a head popped out, and obscenities assaulted their ears.

Billie shook like a wet dog and barked angrier than a pit bull defending its prized bone. “How dare you—”

Placing his hand on top of her head, Wayne dunked her under again.

The second time she came up, she gasped for air and took a swing at him. She missed, and Wayne took the liberty of dunking her a third time.

When Billie broke the surface her face contorted and her gasps turned to giant sobs.

“What do you want from me?”

“The race starts in an hour,” Jenny said in a rush. “And I want . . . I
need
you there by my side.”

“I thought you said you didn't trust us.”

“I'm so sorry I ever doubted you, Billie. Please forgive me. I should have allowed you and Nick to explain.”

“I'm sorry I yelled at you,” Wayne added. “I guess we all jumped to conclusions.”

“I suppose I jumped to conclusions, too.” Billie locked eyes with Wayne. “I guess I was wrong to think you had any interest in me. I must've been a total moron, a fool, a stupid clod, to follow you around like some lovesick—”

Jenny gasped as Wayne reached out with both hands, grabbed her soggy-haired friend by the shoulders, and
kissed
her.

“I
am
interested, Billie,” Wayne said, pulling back. “I didn't want to be, but I am.”

Billie's cheeks flushed crimson, and she shifted her gaze to Jenny. “Didn't you say we have a race to get to?”

Jenny nodded.

“Then why are we still standing here?” Billie demanded.

Jenny smiled, glad to have her friend back. She only wished Nick was with them.

J
ENNY PARKED THE
ranch truck in Levi MacGowan's charred mountainside field and gazed across Harp Lake to the camp under the fire tower where she and Nick had first kissed. She wished she could hear the harps again and be reassured they were meant to be together, but she had a race to win. She needed to remain focused. Fifty other trucks and horse trailers lined the lot and promised a tougher competition than any other year.

Kastle was young and didn't travel well by herself, so they'd brought Starfire along, hoping the older horse would calm her down. It worked. Both horses basked in the sun with their eyes half closed, oblivious to the whirl of people who walked back and forth beside them.

“The Pine Tree Dash is open to both English- and western-style riders,” Jenny explained to Billie. “There are only two rules—stay on the trail, and no endangering the horses or other competitors.”

“It's not a regulated event,” Wayne added. “Just a bunch of cowboys racing on a privately owned back-country trail. Each competitor puts in two hundred dollars and the first one across the finish line gets the money.”

“Is that legal?” Billie asked.

“It's tradition,” Levi MacGowan said as he joined them. “The Pine Tree Dash dates back to the early nineteen hundreds, when my ancestors decided this old town needed to offer hope to those who hadn't found any gold. We'll be usin' the Winding River Trail, which runs through my property and finishes back here at Harp Lake.”

He turned to Jenny. “The blasted reporters think you're their top news story since the
Cascade Herald
publicized your bet with the CEO of N.L.C. Industries. They're askin' my permission to film the race. At first, I told 'em to git off my land. But when they offered to dump a pile of money into the winner's pot, I said I'd have to ask you first.”

“How much money are we talking about?”

Levi's mouth curved into a grin beneath his white woolly moustache. “Five thousand each crew, and there's about twenty of them.”

“One hundred thousand dollars,” she exclaimed, “on top of the ten thousand put up by the competitors.”

“Enough to save your ranch, maybe this whole town.”

“Then tell them to come.”

“That's my girl,” Levi crowed. “I'll have everyone we know bettin' on you.”

“No pressure or anything,” Billie added with a grin.

Jenny cringed. She wasn't fond of reporters or bets, but a hundred-and-ten-thousand-dollar prize would not only pay off her bank loan—it could also pay for a new stable and allow her to offer assistance to her neighbors.

Maybe Alan Simms, the pesky
Cascade Herald
reporter she'd dubbed the rat-man, wasn't so bad after all. She might even have to thank him.

If she won.

While Harry and Sarah waited in line to sign her in, Wayne and Billie went off to have a private conversation, and promised to meet her at the finish line.

Jenny checked Kastle's leg. Still no sign of weakness. Then she called Nick's cell phone. Still no answer.

“Well, if it isn't the most popular bachelorette in town,” a voice purred close to her ear. “Will you marry me, Jenny?”

She leapt aside, and turning, stared into the face of Travis Koenig—-her former fiancé—who stood next to the county sheriff. “What do you want?”

“I've come to collect this horse,” he said, and took hold of Kastle's halter.

“This is
my
horse. Get your hands off her.”

“She's Stewart Davenport's horse now,” Travis said.

“I'm afraid he has the certificate of ownership,” the sheriff informed her.

“How did you get that?” she asked, staring at the paper Travis held up with Nick's signature on it.

“Chandler used the ownership papers as collateral for a small loan Davenport gave him. Since the fire took his salary, Chandler hasn't been able to pay the loan back as promised, so the horse no longer belongs to him.”

Jenny couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. She'd meant to ask Nick for Kastle's paperwork after the auction but forgot.

“You can't do this,” she said, her throat raw. “I need her for the race.”

“No,” Travis smiled. “
I
need her for the race.”

“You're racing for
Davenport?
”

“Anything for the money, honey.”

Jenny scowled. “You did me a favor when you didn't show up at the church.”

“I did
myself
a favor,” Travis said, with a sneer. “I could never be tied to just one woman.”

Jenny clenched her teeth as he led Kastle away, and wished she'd never laid eyes on him.

Uncle Harry returned to the horse trailer with her competition number a few minutes later. “Where the heck is Kastle? And why are you sitting on the ground?”

“Travis took her,” she said, lifting her tear-streaked face from the crook of her arm. “Davenport has Kastle's ownership papers and plans to have Travis ride her in the race.”

Harry bellowed at the top of his lungs and a group of ranchers hurried forward to see what was wrong. In between ranting and raving her uncle managed to fill them in.

“You could ride Blue Devil,” Kevin Forester offered.

Jenny shook her head. “Kastle beat Blue Devil in a race the week before I bought her.”

“She can't give up.” David Wilson turned toward the other ranchers. “If she doesn't win the race, we'll all be a bunch of homeless beggars sleeping on the streets.”

“I've seen her practice,” Uncle Harry told them, “and I can tell you there's not another horse faster than that gray mare in Okanogan County.”

“There is
one
,” Jenny said, as she stood up and brushed herself off. “I could ride Starfire.”

“You got Kastle because you thought Starfire was too old,” Uncle Harry reminded her.

“Starfire may be old, but he's won the Pine Tree Dash three times.”

“He hasn't raced in over four years.”

“He races at home.” Jenny carried Kastle's western saddle back into the trailer and returned with Starfire's English riding gear. “I know it's a long shot. I also know the strengths and weaknesses of both horses.”

N
ICK SPRANG FROM
the truck and scanned the maze of people, horses, and parked trailers to search for Jenny. He spotted her toward the far side of the field, lined up to ride on Starfire. Where was Kastle?

Realizing Davenport must have taken the mare, he groaned. Jenny's fury toward him had probably doubled, but he had to speak to her.

He cut through the crowd as fast as he could, pushing some people out of the way, and weaving around others. But he was afraid he wasn't going to make it in time.

“Jenny!”

She turned her head and looked right at him, but a second later the starting whistle blew and the riders took off.

He was too late.

He watched her disappear into the trees, and wondered how long the race would last. How long before he could talk to her . . . and say good-bye.

“There you are, Chandler. I've been looking for you.”

He recognized the voice behind him and froze. He'd known this day would come but he still wasn't ready for it.

Slowly he turned around and there in front of him stood Victor Lucarelli and six of his men.

J
ENNY KEPT
S
TARFIRE
at a canter as they rounded the first sharp corner of the trail. A fence bordered the right-hand side of the path and a burnt hedge bordered the left. They couldn't pass the riders in front of them. They had to wait.

Then the hedge came to an end and the fifty riders entered in the race began to spread out. A space opened; Jenny took it, and urged Starfire forward.