The Creed Legacy (24 page)

After that, nobody said anything.

There was no need for words.

C
AROLYN HAD SLEPT
fitfully the previous night, and she was awake early, feeling jittery, rather than rested.

She fed Winston, brewed herself a cup of instant coffee and peeked out at the beginnings of a blue-gold day in May. In the neighbor’s yard, as well as the distance, the ever-lovely cottonwood trees shimmered and shifted, like the ribbons on the gypsy skirt.

Of all the places she’d lived, she liked Colorado best. Especially when spring evolved into summer so quickly, as it seemed to be doing this year.

With her head cloudy from lack of sleep and hectic dreams she couldn’t quite remember, Carolyn imagined herself on horseback, riding the crooked trail on the rim of the ridge on the Creed ranch, or along the banks of the river. The air was thin there in the high country, but once a person got used to it, every breath of fresh air was exhilarating.

Carolyn bit her lower lip, pondering her options.

Today was a workday, and she had to open the shop by nine-thirty at the latest, but that still left her with a couple of hours of freedom. If she hurried, she could drive out to Kim and Davis’s place, saddle up old Blossom and quite literally head for the hills.

Or the trail that followed the wandering line of the river.

A ride would clear the cobwebs from her brain and maybe even ease the anxious little ache in her heart, the one she’d awakened with some tattered remnant of dreams forgotten.

Or denied.

Hastily, before she could change her mind, Carolyn showered, dressed in the usual jeans and T-shirt and, because of the inevitable morning chill, a long-sleeved flannel shirt. She donned socks, hauled on her boots and said goodbye to Winston, promising she’d be back soon.

The drive to the Creed ranch was refreshing in itself—Carolyn kept her car window rolled halfway down and listened to a Keith Urban CD while she drove. By the time Davis and Kim’s rambling house and barn came into view, she was singing along at the top of her lungs.

Kim came out of the house when Carolyn pulled in, smiling a warm welcome, the little dogs frolicking at her feet.

“Come in and have coffee,” Kim called. “I have something to ask you.”

Kim Creed was a dear and treasured friend, but Carolyn didn’t want to sit and drink coffee—she wanted to ride.

“I was hoping to take Blossom out for a little spin,” she answered, pausing to smile at the comical antics of the dogs. “What did you want to ask me?”

Kim scooped the Yorkies up into each hand and walked over to where Carolyn was waiting. “Davis and I have a hankering to head down to Stone Creek for a week or two, and spoil our grandchildren,” Kim said. “Run interference for Steven and Melissa a bit, so they can go off somewhere by themselves for a couple of days. We need somebody to stay here and look after the house while we’re away, though. Can you do it?”

“I’d be glad to,” Carolyn said, pleased. As much as she loved her apartment on the second floor of Natty McCall’s house, she enjoyed a change of scene once in a while, too. And while other people’s houses usually left her feeling rootless and more adrift than ever, this was the Creed Ranch; for whatever reason, she’d always felt at home here. “Would it be okay if I brought Winston along?”

“That would be fine,” Kim answered, nuzzling the top of one tiny dog’s head and then the other. Early as it was, Smidgeon and Little Bit’s carefully trimmed coats were already brushed to a high shine, their topknots tied with little yellow ribbons. “Brody will stop by twice a day to tend the horses—just call him or Conner if there’s any sort of emergency. You’re more than welcome to ride Blossom anytime, but Davis doesn’t want you going near that Thoroughbred. Firefly’s too dangerous.” The
Thoroughbred
was dangerous?

He couldn’t hold a candle to Brody when it came to making trouble.

“Kim Creed,” Carolyn reasoned, in fond irritation, “if Brody is set to take care of your horses, why can’t he simply sleep here at night, too, and keep an eye on the property?” She paused, enjoying her friend’s sheepish expression. “Is it just my imagination, or are you trying to throw the two of us together?”

Again.

Kim’s cheeks were pink, but her eyes smiled even before her mouth did. “Would I do a thing like that?” she challenged.

“In a heartbeat,” Carolyn said, with smiling convic tion.

Kim was not only thinking fast, she was thinking
visibly.
The gears behind that still-lovely face were turning for sure. Finally, she drew a deep breath and huffed it out.

“Brody can’t stay here because he’s got to take care of his own place, the new construction, I mean. There’s always a chance of theft or vandalism, you know, particularly after the sun goes down.”

Carolyn laughed and rolled her eyes, wondering if Kim knew about the Saturday night date she and Brody had scheduled.

She decided not to mention it, in case the gossip hadn’t reached Kim’s ears yet. There was no sense in pouring fuel on the fires of speculation, especially when the evening with Brody would probably turn out to be a nonevent.

Or the mother of all rows.

When it came to herself and Brody, there seemed to be no middle ground.

“You’ll do it, then?” Kim persisted. “Stay here at the house while Davis and I are in Stone Creek? I know you have the shop to run, but other than that—”

Silently, Carolyn completed her friend’s sentence.
Other than that, you have no life.

“I’ll be here, Kim,” she said gently. Kim and Davis had always been kind to her, and their trust was something she prized. She couldn’t have refused the request without a much better reason than her compulsive need to avoid Brody whenever possible. “When are you leaving for Stone Creek?”

“Sunday morning,” Kim answered, with a glance in the direction of the barn and a crooked little smile. “Go ahead and saddle Blossom. I know your time is limited, and I won’t insist on the coffee klatch.”

On impulse, Carolyn hugged Kim, being careful not to squash the little dogs.

“What was that for?” Kim asked, blinking even as she smiled.

“You’re a good friend, Kim,” Carolyn answered, turning to walk away, but looking back over one shoulder. “And I’m grateful to you and
for
you.”

The majestic Thoroughbred, king of all he surveyed, nickered a greeting to Carolyn as she moved past the corral fence, heading for the barn.

“Good morning, handsome,” she told the gigantic gelding. What an amazing creature he was, standing there with his head high and his ears pitched forward, his whole frame rimmed by morning sunlight.

A few moments later, Carolyn reached the door of Blossom’s stall.

The little mare seemed ready for an excursion and submitted happily to all the customary preparations— saddle blanket, saddle, bridle, cinch-tightening and, finally, a quick check of her hooves.

“You’re getting fat from standing around in this barn or out in the pasture all the time,” Carolyn told the animal, leading her out into the unusually warm morning air. “Let’s get some exercise.”

Carolyn chose the route that led along the ridge, as opposed to the one next to the river, mainly because she didn’t want to look over the waters and see Brody’s fabulous house, nearer to completion with every passing day.

Would he end up marrying Joleen?

Or would it be some other woman who wasn’t even on the scene yet?

Brody had taken out a trial membership on Friendly Faces—and even though he’d posted his horse’s picture instead of his own, he wouldn’t lack for prospective dates—or
mates.
He was, after all, a real catch—young, single, good-looking and financially secure, if not downright rich.

Strangers might not know these things, but plenty of available Lonesome Bend women
would,
and they wouldn’t hesitate to lobby for a date.

What if Brody fell for one of them?

Then he
fell for one of them,
Carolyn thought, in rueful answer to her own silent question.

She stuck a foot into the stirrup and swung herself up onto Blossom’s wide back. A glutton for punishment when it came to Brody Creed, Carolyn imagined a wedding, crowded with well-wishers. A beautiful bride, with one hot groom—Brody—promising to love, honor and cherish.

One thing led to another. She pictured the two of them—Brody and the faceless woman—leaving on their honeymoon.

In her mind’s eye, she witnessed their return to Lonesome Bend. Brody would carry his new wife over the threshold of that amazing house—she could probably even
cook,
the bitch—and there would be a baby on the way in no time at all.

Carolyn, leaving Blossom to choose their path, blushed at the thought.

The new Mrs. Creed would probably stop by the shop often—after all, she’d be Tricia’s sister-in-law and, therefore, need no excuse to visit—and Carolyn would have to watch as the woman’s belly swelled with Brody’s child….

“Stop it,” she told herself out loud.

Blossom, no doubt thinking Carolyn was speaking to her, stopped and looked back in comical equine curiosity.

“I’m sorry,” Carolyn told the horse gently, patting the mare’s neck. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Blossom, seemingly satisfied, plodded on.

Carolyn, in the meantime, went right on daydreaming, paying no attention when Blossom left the ridge trail and meandered through a copse of cottonwood trees to the banks of Hidden Lake. Hidden Lake.

Carolyn’s heart almost stopped when she realized where they were. She’d been careful to avoid the place since her last visit, years ago—with Brody.

They’d camped on the shore, sharing a single sleeping bag inside an insulated pup tent made for one.

They’d fished, and fried the catch over a fire in the open air.

And, oh, how they’d made love.

Carolyn had never been happier, before or since.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said to the horse, tugging lightly on the reins.

But Blossom waded into the water instead, lowered her head and began to drink noisily of the crystal-clear water.

With a sigh, Carolyn backed the mare onto the shore and dismounted to walk around a little, and work the kinks out of her legs. Lately, she’d gone too long between horseback rides, and she felt the omission in the insides of her thighs and in her lower back.

Blossom waded in again, bent her head to satisfy her thirst.

Carolyn looked around, stricken anew by the beauty of the place. With the trees filtering the light of the sun and causing it to dance with leaf shadows on the surface of the lake, it seemed sacred, almost cathedral-like.

It was ridiculously warm, for a morning in May, and she shed the flannel shirt, draping it over a nearby boulder, and enjoyed the feel of soft heat on her shoulders and arms. She shouldn’t be dallying out here, she thought— the shop was supposed to open in an hour, and she’d need another shower and a change of clothes before then.

But the silence, the trees, the muted birdsong, all of it was solace to her soul.

Eventually, the sensual pull of the water proved to be more than she could resist. Carolyn, so rarely impulsive, resolutely kicked off her boots, peeled away her socks and waded into the sky-tinted waters of Hidden Lake.

The water was warm, and soft as liquefied silk.

Carolyn rolled her jeans up to her knees and waded in deeper. The lake bottom was covered in tiny, smooth stones, and those stones worked the flesh on the bottoms of her feet like the fingers of a gifted masseuse.

Tilting her head back and closing her eyes, Carolyn gave herself up to sensation—peace, the deliciousness of water, the smooth caress of the little rocks under her soles, the sunshine spiking between the branches of the cottonwoods that arched overhead like great pillars supporting the sky.

For all the things she would have changed about her past, her present and her future, if that had been possible in the first place, in the here and now, Carolyn counted only the good things.

She was young, she was healthy and she loved her life.

She loved working in the shop. She loved sewing, and riding horses, and taking care of Winston. She loved her friends and her modest apartment and the town of Lonesome Bend, Colorado, which
felt
like a family, even if it wasn’t.

She was blessed among women.

Blossom nickered, attracting Carolyn’s attention.

She turned, watched as the mare moved farther up the sloping bank to graze happily on sweet grass, the reins still looped loosely behind the horn of the saddle.

The urge to strip to the skin and swim in that lake came over Carolyn suddenly, and it was all but overwhelming.

Carolyn got out of the water, intending to get back on Blossom and ride away, but instead, she found herself peeling off her clothes, piling them on the dry boulder, with the flannel shirt she’d doffed earlier. She plunged back into the lake, gasping at the initial chill but adapting quickly. She swam out into deeper water and then turned onto her back to float and gaze up at that painfully blue sky.

It was a time out of time; she’d drifted, somehow, into a magical world, parallel to the one she usually inhabited.

Then she heard the sound—another horse, somewhere very nearby.

Heart pounding, Carolyn stopped floating to tread water, her eyes narrowed as she scanned the trees for any sign of an intruder.

All was silent now—even the birds had stopped sing ing.

Carolyn was convinced of it: she had
definitely
heard a horse, and it hadn’t been Blossom. The mare was still grazing.

“Who’s there?” Carolyn called, somewhat shakily, as terrible headlines flashed through her mind.

Woman Found Dead Near Remote Lake…

Local Shop-owner Perishes in Brutal Attack…

There it went again, that imagination of hers.

She’d probably heard a deer, or, since livestock ranged all over the Creed ranch anyway, a cow or a horse.