Perfect Family (14 page)

And she should be able to find the way. There were, after all, roads, and people and tourists. She just wasn't sure in what direction.

And where did April go?

She tried again to get to her feet. She swayed for a moment. Then she limped over to the sorrel. He nickered nervously and she ran her hand down his neck. “It's not your fault.”

Carefree tossed his head, as if agreeing with her, then eyed her warily. She partly leaned against him, then picked up the reins. Whatever had stuck in her hand burned, but her other arm was useless. She started limping out from under the trees and noticed, for the first time, how quickly daylight was fading. In the past few moments, the sun had dipped behind a faraway mountain. The sky had turned dark blue with a crimson edging. In minutes, it would be dark.

No city lights here.

She swallowed hard. She'd been told the country was alive with rattlesnakes. There were cactus—prickly pear—everywhere, the same kind already burning through her hand.

No lights on the horizon. At least the mountain was at her back. Or had she gone to its side during her mindless race?

She decided to toss away her pride. “April,” she said in a loud voice. Then again in one several decibels higher.

An owl hooted somewhere. An evening bird answered.

Jessie bit her lip, trying to stifle a growing fear.

Surely, when she didn't get back before dark, they would send out someone. In the meantime, she would move along. She looked back at the huge rock. She tried to remember the angle she'd seen from the house. But now it looked different.

She wished she wore riding boots as she stumbled along the rocks and brush. Her loafers and slacks provided precious little protection. She ached all over, and shooting pain ran through her wrist.

But the horse was of even more concern. He continued to favor his foreleg. Jessie picked her way through some brush, trying to keep from falling. Then she stilled. Listening. Night noises. Different than those at home. No grasshoppers whistling, or dogs barking. No familiar, comforting sounds. Instead, she thought she heard things moving through the brush, heard the hoot of an owl. She wished Ben were with her. Except he would probably be as confused, and frightened, as she.

She was afraid that if she kept going she could tumble into a gully. Then she had an idea. Horses could usually find their own stable. They had an instinct that she didn't. Of course, Carefree could leave her behind, but probably not with the injured leg. Decided, she pulled the reins back and tied them on the saddlehorn. The horse stood there.

“Go home, love,” she said.

The beast didn't move.

She gave him a slap on his rear. He turned his head around and looked at her. She couldn't see exactly what kind of look. It was too dark. She imagined it was an accusation, though.

But the gelding lifted his head as if listening. “Go home,” she urged again. Carefree started to move, and she moved beside him. Now her muscles were screaming in protest, as much from riding as from the fall. Between the two, she wondered how she could keep going. How she could put one foot in front of another.

But she did.

She didn't know how long she walked. Concentrating on just staying upright. Wondering whether she should have just stayed put. She remembered hearing that. When you're lost, you stay in one place and let someone find you. She had taken care of herself too long to do that.

She also wondered how April had disappeared so quickly. But she really had no one to blame but herself. She had been the one to race recklessly over country she didn't know. And yet … it had given her such joy, such unexpected pleasure. How could she have left that part of her life for so long?

You know why
.

She bit her lip, remembering. The night held too many memories, and it was very, very dark now. She could barely see the blur of the horse in front of her. She didn't know if she could go any further.

She felt like Alice in Wonderland again, but this time the unfamiliar world was dark and strange and frightening. One foot, then another. Finally she couldn't take another step.

“Whoa,” she said. The horse stopped so quickly she almost fell into him.

She leaned against him for a moment, and then in the distance she saw moving lights.

“Hel—lo,” she yelled as loud as she could.

She heard an answering bark, then a gunshot. The lights moved toward her. Not fast enough, but they came on. Then a running form stopped abruptly, sniffed her, then stood stiffly beside her.

“Timber,” she whispered, putting her head near his large, furry one. He whined and lifted a paw. She just held on to him until a horse and rider reached her. The rider dismounted and walked over to her. She knew simply by the way he walked that it was Ross. Somehow she'd known it would be him.

She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life.

He kneeled next to her. “Are you all right?”

“Barely,” she replied.

He held up a lantern, and his dark eyes moved over her. “You fell?”

“I said
whoa
. It was a mistake. I didn't know he took the word so to heart.”

She saw the barest smile on his face, then it turned stern again. He knelt beside her and checked all her body parts. His hands were gentle but impersonal. He lingered over her arm. “Sprained, I think,” he said, “but nothing serious.” Then he stood and walked over to Carefree, who was still favoring his right front leg.

Jessie watched as he leaned down and looked at the leg. She held her breath, praying nothing was seriously wrong with the animal. He spoke to the animal with far more gentleness than he had to her. She recognized instantly who was the more important delinquent. It wasn't her.

“I don't think he's badly hurt,” she said.

“No thanks to you,” he said curtly. “How in the hell did you lose April?”

She deserved every implied criticism. She couldn't even answer him. She didn't know how she had lost her companion. “I don't know.”

“I thought you knew something about horses. Otherwise, I never would have let you go.”

She started to get indignant. But she knew she shouldn't have let Carefree run as she had. Not in terrain unfamiliar to her.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized. “I was … enjoying riding so much, I—” Her words faltered as she saw the tense set of his shoulders. He was barely containing his anger.

He finished with the horse, then came back to her, looming like some tall specter over her. “April came back an hour ago. She said she'd looked for you everywhere, that you just seemed to disappear.”

By then, another rider had approached. It was a man she hadn't seen before. “This is Charlie,” Ross said. “There's half a dozen other men out searching for you, including Marc and his son.”

“I'm sorry to cause so much trouble,” she said again.

He stood then, lifted the lantern and looked at her. She couldn't see his face in the flash of the light. “Can you stand?”

“Yep,” she said, although not at all sure. She heard the unwanted tremble in her voice. In truth, she was not all right at all. In truth, she was close to tears. She wasn't about to shed them, though. “It was a small tumble.”

He frowned, leaned down, and gave her a hand up. She stood for a moment, trying to gain her balance. Timber stood as close as he could.

“Try walking,” Ross commanded.

She didn't think she could. But she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She took one step, then fell into his arms. She couldn't stop the soft groan that escaped her lips.

“I
have
been walking,” she said defensively.

“Well, you can't now,” he said. He picked her up as easily as if she were a burlap sack of potatoes. When they got to the horse, he asked, “How far have you come?”

“I don't know. I just let the horse go, and I followed.”

He didn't reply, but his grip tightened. Despite his anger, she felt safe in his arms. Very safe. She found herself snuggling pleasantly against his chest. Too soon they were at his horse, and he was helping her onto it. She instinctively reached for the reins, and her left arm rebelled. Every part of her rebelled. Another groan escaped.

His hands gentled. For a moment, she felt as if she'd never known anything quite as gentle. Then he swung up behind her. His arms went around her. All the fear she'd tried to rein, to hide, to pretend didn't exist took one last sharp aim at her, a delayed reaction, then gradually faded.

She leaned back against him. All was suddenly right with the world, and Alice had found her way home.

April said she'd looked for you everywhere
.

Had she?

She was found. That was all that was important. Not that she'd made an idiot out of herself. Nor what had happened with April.

She kept telling herself that.

eight

Jessie soaked in the Jacuzzi bath for an hour. It was a truly glorious luxury, especially now, and she thought she could stay there forever. She certainly didn't want to expend the effort to get out.

Her body was all shades of gray and purple and red. Her wrist was wrapped in a tight elastic bandage. That was on the outside. She winced when thinking about the inside.

Every bone, every ligament, every muscle in her body hurt.

So did her pride.

She recalled every ignominious moment of her return to the ranch house …

The entire Clements clan had gathered outside. Sarah had taken over and hovered over her like a mother hen, seeing to each of the open wounds, using a pair of tweezers to extract thorns.

Ross had looked at her wrist again. “You should have it x-rayed,” he said. “I'll drive you to the hospital.”

She hadn't wanted that. She knew he must be concerned about Carefree, and probably the last thing he wanted to do was nurse a minor injury of a careless rider. “Go see about Carefree,” she'd pleaded.

It had finally been decided that Cullen and Sarah would take her to the hospital. April, full of apologies, had decided to go along.

Jessie had been reluctant, but she'd realized they were not going to let her go without having the arm checked first. She'd felt swept away by a tide of concern. It was a strange, unsettling feeling. She'd always taken care of herself before.

An hour later, an emergency doctor at a small hospital confirmed what she knew. Nothing was broken. Not even a bad sprain. Wrap it with a tight bandage and she would be as good as new in a few days.

She'd apologized profusely for putting everyone to so much trouble. Part of her had appreciated the worry and concern and cosseting. Another part merely wanted to crawl into a hole and nurse her wounds by herself …

She sank deeper into the tub with its jets. Alex had heard about the accident and showed up at the hospital. He'd glared at April, then uttered his own apologies for having left her. Jessie felt she was drowning in recriminations—and self-recrimination.

Sarah had wanted her to return to the ranch, to stay there at least one night, but Jessie had wanted to come back to the peace of her room. She'd wanted to think, to sort out all the feelings that had lodged themselves in her mind. So many.

She ran a soapy washcloth over her face, then gingerly over her body. She remembered the strength of Ross's arms, even the comfort she felt in them. But she also remembered the humiliation of being so incredibly stupid. How
could
she have lost April?

For only a split second, she considered the possibility that perhaps April …

But no. There was no reason. Could be none. She was making up villains because she wasn't willing to take full responsibility. And it had been obvious that everyone had been worried sick over her mishap. It had warmed her, even though she'd been terribly embarrassed and filled with guilt at causing so much trouble. She remembered how everyone was waiting, the smiles when Ross had helped her from the horse.

A family. Worried about her. She simply didn't know how to react
.

She moved. And groaned. At least no one would hear it here. A family was fine, but …

Jessie knew if she didn't get up now, she probably never would. She heaved her battered body up and wrapped a towel around herself, then went to the dresser where she'd put her clothes. The top drawer held a nightshirt, a robe, and her undergarments along with the liquid silver necklace she'd purchased for herself at college graduation. She'd had no one there to celebrate with her, so she'd marked the occasion by driving to a jewelry store and impulsively buying the necklace.

Jessie took out the worn but comfortable oversized nightshirt, then checked the corner where she kept the necklace. It wasn't there. Her heart dropped precipitously. Her hands searched the bottom of the drawer under the other clothes. Then she found it on the other side of the drawer. She stood straight, the necklace clutched in her hands. She knew she had left it in the left-hand corner.

She systematically went through the other drawers. Not sure exactly what might be required, she'd brought more clothes than she needed. Now she saw other things out of order. If she hadn't missed the necklace, she might never have noticed that the slacks had not been smoothed down, nor that the shirts had been disturbed.

Someone had been in the room and had gone through her possessions!

She couldn't prove it, but she knew it. She
felt
someone else's presence in the room. A sense of violation intruded through all the other emotions. She shivered, not from cold but from the feeling of being watched. Her mind flitted back to the burglary of her home. Coincidence?

Chills ran down her spine. There couldn't be a connection.

Awkwardly, she pulled on the nightshirt and buttoned it, then went to the windows of her cottage. Only her car was parked in front of her casita. She couldn't see the window or parking area for the next one. Trees separated them.