Heartstealer (Women of Character3 (19 page)

"There's no comparison."

"In a way there is. You could
get hurt working with the horses or the cows. Even with machinery there could
be accidents."

"It's not the same."
Abruptly, he rose to his feet.

She moved to stand with her fists
on her hips.

"You are so hung up on my
occupation. What is your problem?"

"Your life is your own. I
guess I'll never understand how you don’t think twice about jumping out
of a plane."

She balked at the hard tone.
"Skydiving is a skilled science. Every jump is calculated, the risks
considered. Look at you...working with animals is unpredictable. There's so
many variables to consider," she said in exasperation. "If I make a
mistake on a jump, I know where to look, there's only one variable to consider,
myself. Animals can spook, or have a bad day, and you get the brunt of
it."

"If there's danger in my work,
it's because it finds me, not because I court it." Abruptly, he walked
away.

"That's not fair!"
Perplexed, she wondered what had just occurred. His face was set, his back
rigid.

Vaguely, she noticed the others
were leaving the water. There was a hushed silence on the group, almost as if
she had somehow touched on a sore subject everyone else knew about.

She bent to retrieve her jeans.

She mounted her horse. Sloan had
ridden several yards up the path to wait. When everyone was ready she hung back
to the end of the line. Her horse knew the way, she didn't even have to think
as the animal automatically fell into step behind the others.

Michelle nudged her horse over to
her. "You couldn't have known," she said in a hushed tone.

She looked at her with surprise.
"Known what?"

"Sloan's mother was a loose
cannon."

"He mentioned something about
it once."

"She breezed through life and
did as she pleased, regardless of anyone else. My mom always said it was like
she thought she'd live forever. She and her friends used to race their cars on
the back roads at night. One time she had an accident and almost got killed.
Sloan's father found her in time and got her to the hospital. She pulled out of
it that time, but I don’t think it stopped her."

"God." Jacie felt pain
for Sloan, the little boy he had been. "How did she die?"

"She developed a blood disorder
from an infection."

Jacie felt her stomach turn.
"But her life is nothing like mine."

Michelle shrugged. "I don't
know...maybe Sloan is equating you in some way with his mother’s
lifestyle."

All the way back to the barn she
mulled over what she had learned. After the horses were taken care of, she
caught up with Sloan.

"I have one thing to say to
you!" she declared.

He looked at her intently.
"And that would be?"

"I’m a responsible
person from a loving, stable family background. I’ve had a job since I
was fifteen. Don’t go comparing me to someone else." She stomped
away. At least she had gotten that off her chest, for all the good it would do
her. Sloan seemed to have a problem with the very occupation she was trying so
hard to resume.

Ω

Sloan felt as if he had been ridden
hard and put away wet as he sank into his favorite chair. He rubbed at the ache
in the back of his neck and wondered why the devil he had thought avoiding
Jacie and working his butt into the ground the last two days would solve anything.

He felt rotten, no getting around
it. He was finally ready to admit she was getting to him, and she probably
could give two hoots about him. He wanted her and to hell with her lifestyle
that was so different from his. He needed to know if she would be interested in
a relationship. That’s what he had figured out in the last two days since
her last jump, which luckily had gone off without a hitch.

Since her arrival he’d never
felt so confused in his life. Her fun-loving nature drew him, yet at the same time
it troubled him. He slumped into the chair, knowing he needed a shave and a
shower. His mirror testified to the fact that he wasn't looking his best.

Growing up, he had loved his
beautiful, fun-filled mother dearly, as only a young boy could. He remembered,
too, the dark times. As a child of eight, he had seen the pain his father tried
to hide, seen the evidence of sleepless nights, the worry over his mother who
would sometimes be gone for days. She always made up for it when she returned,
lavishing attention and love on them, but somehow it hadn't made up for the
time in between.

Scrubbing his hands over his face,
he reached forward and slid a plastic DVD case across the oak chest that served
as his coffee table. He stared at the video inside the case, experiencing again
a sense of urgency. That same feeling had gripped him earlier when he had
driven into town.

He had gone to see Tim Wells to
talk to him about the test results on the horse. A foreign substance had been
found in Dandy’s blood. It could only have gotten there by injection. Tim
had already notified the sheriff’s office and sent them a report of the
findings.

His second stop had been the video
store. Escape from Angel Falls. He placed the DVD in the player. After the
credits the scene cut to a mountain of reddish rock which seemed to shoot
straight up into the sky, a waterfall of frothy white plummeting a tremendous
way to the base. He knew Jacie's stunt involved a freefall from the top of the
falls. He fast-forwarded almost the end of the movie and Jacie's jump. The
scene showed the top of the towering precipice. He watched her leap from the
ledge, seeming to fly out into the air and his stomach did a sickening plummet.
He backed it up, watched the descent over and over. The jump was shot from
different angles, above and below.

When her parachute finally opened,
it seemed to his untrained eye almost too late. The closing shot showed her
dangling in a tree by the lines of her parachute.

Swallowing hard, he stared up at
the ceiling. A paralyzing numbness held him immobile, knots twisting his gut.

A knock sounded on his front door.
"It's open!" he called. Footsteps crossed his foyer. Sloan turned and
saw his father. He jumped to his feet. "Hi Dad."

"Hello Sloan," Everett
Wright said. "I haven’t seen you all day so I thought I’d see
what you were up to. Mind if I help myself to a beer?"

"Go ahead."

His father walked into the kitchen
and then came into the living room and tossed him a can. "I thought I'd
come over since it's been a while since we talked. James filled me in on what's
been going on since the last time I was here. What’s happening with this
woman Jacie Turner?"

"What do you mean?" he
asked guardedly.

"The business with the
horse."

"I got the results from the
vet today." He stared at the television screen through half-closed eyes.
Popping the top on his beer, he took a gulp. "It's not good. The tests
turned up traces of fluphenazine enanthate, a potent behavior modifier. Once
injected, adverse reactions can occur, sometimes up to twenty-four hours later.
I'm trying to piece together who had access to the horse during that time
period."

"That explains the bizarre
behavior. What about the syringe?"

"Same chemical."

His father's face reflected his
shock. "I can't believe anyone we know would harm this young woman. Are
you sure this isn't aimed at the ranch?"

"I've thought of that, but I
don't think so. This is just one incident on top of others concerning Jacie.
I've gone around and around with this. Whoever's responsible has to be familiar
with horses and injections. Who would gain by doing such a thing?"

"Maybe someone is stalking
this young woman."

"That’s a possibility.
What's really strange is Jacie only decided to go on that overnight at the last
minute and she's the only one who's been riding Dandy. Just about everyone here
knew that."

"Sloan, you're talking
attempted murder―"

He clenched his jaw. "I know
what I'm saying Dad. I've talked to Jacie, and so have the police, and to tell
you the truth we haven't come up with a motive. The only ones who would stand
to profit if she died are her family, which is out of the question. There might
be money involved. Apparently, the film's insurance company settled a sum on
her after the accident. From what I gather her family has kept pretty close
tabs on her since then. It bugs the hell out of me to think someone's on the
ranch sneaking around."

"What are you going to
do?" Everett asked.

"Keep an eye on her and hope
the police come up with something or I can catch somebody out."

Everett reached for the DVD case.
Escape from Angel Falls. Is this the movie Jacie was in?"

He nodded. "I was trying to
see if I could get any ideas watching it. She does her skydiving jump at the
end, and that's when she got hurt. I'll play it again, if you want to see
it."

"Go ahead."

When the movie was over, his father
gave him a speculative look. "Wow, that is some lady. I’ve seen the
jumps she does with the guests, but they seem tame in comparison. She made that
jump look real."

"It was all too real,"
Sloan said, still feeling his tense reaction to watching the movie. "That
producer must be some kind of inhuman jerk to use that footage after she was
almost killed."

"Is Jacie someone special,
son?"

Sloan looked into blue eyes so like
his own. He simply nodded.

"I have met Jacie," his
father said with a smile, "though only briefly. She reminds me of your
mother."

Sloan felt his throat go dry.

"You probably don’t
remember much, but your mother was a woman who embraced life, Sloan," his
father said. "Those years with her were ones I’d never give up. You
don't find many women like that. She loved with a passion I've missed since the
day she died."

"But if you could turn back
the clock and live through the uncertainty, not knowing what she would do next,
would you do it all again?"

His father gave him a surprised
glance. "Of course I would, son. I loved her."

He felt his father's answer seep
into him. It sounded so simple, but he felt it wasn't.

"What's the matter,
Sloan?"

"I guess I'm surprised to hear
you say that. You never really talked about Mom after she died."

"That's because it hurt so
much to know that light was gone."

"I might have been only a kid,
but I remember what it was like."

"I remember the good times,
when your mother was with us, and the amount of love that woman could hold. She
had boundless energy. She could drag you out of the lowest mood. Don't get me
wrong, I love Myra, and we've had a good life together, but your mother was
unlike any woman I've ever known."

Feeling suddenly lighter, Sloan
grabbed his hat from the table.

"Where are you off to now,
son?"

"I've got cows to pen."

"It's getting late. Why don't
you call it a day and do them tomorrow."

He pulled his hat low over his
forehead. "Nope, I told my buyer the cows would be ready first thing in
the morning. I'm gonna round them up and make good on that promise."

"How about if your old man
comes with you? Between the two of us we'll have it done in half the
time."

As they walked out the door
together, he gave his father a mocking glance. "Are you sure you remember
how to round up cows?"

"I know it's been awhile, but
I think I can handle a few ornery steers," his father said, chucking him
in the arm.

He grinned and threw his arm around
his father's shoulder. He suddenly didn’t feel so glum anymore. Maybe
there could be a chance for him and Jacie.

Later that afternoon Jacie walked
through a dense growth of pine and came upon a small clearing. A woman sat in
the tall grass with an easel in front of her. She turned as Jacie's boots
snapped pine needles underfoot. It was Myra Wright.

"Hi." Jacie halted.
"I didn't see you. I don't mean to intrude."

"Don't be silly, stay."
Myra put out a hand, multiple bracelets jangling on one slim arm. "The sun
has gone down and it was that last minute of sun I was trying to catch. I'm
through for the day."

Jacie glanced at the canvas
admiringly. Myra had done a credible job of depicting the fading brilliance of
the day across the mountains. Looking at the picture, she could feel the
silence and vastness.

Myra retrieved brushes and paint
tubes and she knelt to help her.

"Actually, I'm glad you're
here, Jacie. I could use help carrying the easel." The older woman rubbed
her hands. "When I hold the brush for very long, my arthritis bothers
me."

"I'd be glad to help."

When everything was stowed in a
pack, Jacie slung the pack over one arm and picked up the lightweight easel.
"Can you carry the canvas? I don't want to smudge it."

"Yes. My car is over
there." The older woman indicated an area behind a thick growth of trees.

"You drove?" she said
with surprise.

"It's just a narrow track, but
Sloan keeps it graded so my car doesn't have any trouble. He knows I love to
paint while I'm here."

"Have you always painted the
ranch?"

"My goodness, no. When I lived
here, I was too busy...accounts, the farm, raising two boys. Everett encouraged
me, but I never seemed to get around to it."

They placed everything in the small
gray car.

"Will you ride back with me,
Jacie?"

"Sure, thank you."

They settled themselves in the car.
She watched Myra competently reverse the car.

"Are you out walking?"
Myra asked.

"Just getting back. We did a
jump this morning and then I decided to go for a walk. This area is kind of
awesome." They left the clearing. "Do you miss living here?"