Hearts Unleashed Read online

  She raised her head. “What are you talking about?”

  Peter’s eyes widened in mock-surprise. “What—you didn’t know?” He looked between her and John, the corner of his lips creased with malicious amusement. “What with the two of you so cozy, I thought for sure you must know.”

  “You little shit.” John began to walk back toward them. “Don’t listen to him, Katie.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked Peter.

  “Our perfect ranch foreman has a hidden past.” Peter fished his phone out of his pocket. “Look at what he’s been keeping from us.”

  Her stomach twisted, and there was bile in the back of her throat, but she held out her hand for the phone.

  “What’s all this about?” Her father demanded.

  Peter turned toward him with his usual grating manner. “Our foreman and I had an interesting conversation last night. I got curious, wanted to know what his deal was.” He flicked his wrist in John’s direction, as if John were his underling. “Turns out he has a fascinating Facebook.”

  “Katie.” John’s voice sounded close by. He sounded utterly miserable. “I can explain.”

  She couldn’t take her eyes off the post. There was a photo of John, a man she recognized from a photo from his mother’s house, and—

  Koda.

  “You posted this months ago.” Her head swam. “About wanting to find your dog. The dog you’d been assigned to work with overseas. The dog named Koda.”

  John made an attempt to grab the phone. “Katie. Listen—”

  “She’s your dog? The one you’ve been looking for? Why didn’t you tell us?” Her voice was breaking with the shock and pain she felt.

  “She was mine.” His voice hardened. “In Afghanistan. We worked together. By the time I met you, she was yours. I’m just glad to be around her again. That’s what I was about to tell you, before your dad and Linda came home.”

  “Is that why you stayed on?” Her voice trembled. She raised her eyes to his. “Because we had your dog and you figured you could at least be around her again?”

  “At first, yes. Legally I had no option on getting Koda back. And I needed the job so I kept my mouth shut.”

  “Son, you thought we’d fire you?” Mitch asked.

  John pressed his lips together, digging his hands into his pockets. “I did. At first. But then I saw the bond Katie had with Koda, and I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t want to disrupt that. And I like working here. Three Keys Ranch is a wonderful place. And I love—I like being around you, Katie.”

  “Make sure you check out the comments section. I found it enlightening.” Peter ducked back as John stared at him. “What—going to punch me again?”

  She scrolled down. The words swam before her eyes. Only a few rose up out of the sea of text to register.

  “Look, Katie. You have to understand this was months ago.”

  “I understand, all right.” She stepped closer and lowered her voice. “Did you see those comments? People—your friends—called me a selfish bitch, a heartless monster who wouldn’t give a wounded veteran his dog back!”

  “I posted later, updating people to the situation—” He fell silent as she glared at him.

  “You could update your Facebook, but you couldn’t tell me the truth.” She practically spat the words, holding the phone back to Peter. “I trusted you.”

  Her voice cracked. She felt raw, as if she’d been turned inside out and exposed to the cold November air.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t want to hear it.” She pointed to his truck. “Just go.”

  As he turned again, making his way back to the truck with heavy steps, Koda sat in the yard. She looked from Katie to John, her brown eyes puzzled.

  Katie drew a deep breath.

  “Guess that settles that,” Peter said. “All the weird stuff that’s been happening was a front so you’d keep him around.”

  “Weird stuff?” her father asked.

  Peter turned to him. “John didn’t tell you about the north fence being vandalized?”

  “He might have said something to that effect,” her father said. “But I didn’t listen. I can’t believe anyone round here would do something so low. I don’t believe it.”

  “What’s the saying? Twice is a coincidence, but three times . . . ?” Peter nodded.

  She turned to look at him. “Three times? But the fence has only been broken twice.”

  “Got bad news.” Peter looked down suddenly. “I’ve just come from the north pasture. Fence is down and some of the cattle got out last night—pregnant cows.”

  Her lungs felt as elastic as old underpants, just sagging instead of contracting for the next breath. “Where I wrecked the truck just yesterday?”

  “What on earth?” her father started. “No one told me!”

  “You can see for yourself. Katie is fine,” Linda said. “And you know what the doctor said about you exerting yourself.”

  He strode toward the barn. “Forget the doctor. This is my ranch, and if my cattle are out . . . ” A deep, rattling cough caught him off guard. Linda grabbed his arm, supporting him as he regained his breath.

  “I’m fine.” He tried to wave her away. “Let me go.”

  “You’re doing no such thing.” Linda’s voice was stern. “The doctor said you’d need rest, and that’s what you’re getting.”

  As they talked, Katie turned and walked into the ranch house. Her head beat in an angry rhythm, in time with the pounding of her heart. Luckily, it did not take her long to get what she needed. Joanne had left the fridge well stocked with groceries, and it was the work of a few minutes to put sandwiches and fruit into the saddlebags. She added two bottles of water and pulled on her coat and scarf.

  When she walked outside, Peter was giving her dad a more detailed description of the damage done to the fence. John’s truck was still parked in the yard. She wondered why he hadn’t left, then caught herself. Don’t know. Don’t care. He’d lied to her—lied to them all.

  When she stepped into the barn, John straightened up.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stepped back and she could see Snowbird had been fitted with saddle and riding tack. “Getting her ready. You’re riding out, aren’t you?”

  She raised her chin, meeting his gaze defiantly. “Try and stop me.”

  He looked as if he was tempted, but instead he looked down, as if it were painful to meet her gaze. He looked older than ever, his eyes filled with an exhaustion she couldn’t imagine. “I won’t. But I don’t think you should rush off on your own. Take someone with you.”

  “I don’t need anyone.” She took Snowbird’s reins. She ran her hands over the horse, checking the saddle sat correctly. “I’m not afraid.”

  Before he could protest, she swung herself up onto Snowbird’s back, directing the horse out of the stables.

  Her dad, Linda, and Peter looked up as she rode toward them.

  “Riding out?” Her dad took a step toward the barn. “I’ll join you.”

  “You’ll do no such thing.” Her voice was firm, anger at John’s betrayal giving her strength. “You need to rest, or you’ll land yourself right back in a hospital bed. Tell him, Linda.”

  “Katie’s right. This is no time to be stubborn, Mitch.” Linda placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll make sure he gets some rest.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Peter said quickly.

  Katie shook her head. “You’ll get to work repairing the broken fence.”

  “Wait. We can ride together—”

  “No time,” she said. “If I don’t get the missing herd back inside the ranch, who knows where they’ll end up once the snow’s over.”

  “I don’t know about this, Katie.” Dad eyed the sky with the thickening clouds. “The weather doesn’t look so good.”

  “We can’t be losing those cows and a big piece of next spring’s calf crop. This ranch runs on beef. You know that as well as I do.�
� She used her heels to urge Snowbird. “I’m going to go. I’ve got cattle to find.”

  She turned automatically to call Koda. Instead, her eyes fell on John. He stood in the shadow of the barn, his eyes fixed on her.

  Even through her anger, she felt a sudden surge of pain. It was as if someone had stabbed her in the gut. She swallowed and urged Snowbird into a gallop.

  His muscles rippled and his powerful limbs thundered over the tightly pressed dirt of the yard. The wind wisped his mane into the air like flames. In moments they were clear of the fence, riding across the pasture towards the hills.

  The dry arctic air froze her nose hairs and stung her cheeks, filled with the cold, dusty scent that preceded a snow. Her anger faded, replaced by numbness. Above her head, the solid gray clouds seemed to be lowering toward the earth, drawing close.

  I don’t have much time.

  Already snow was falling, rapidly accumulating on the ground. By the time she’d reach where the fence was cut, any tracks would be covered up. Time for a change of plans.

  The cows had escaped from the north pasture, but if she rode up McCullum’s Ridge, cut over the high ground toward her dad’s old hunting cabin, she could circle back and intercept the cows before they got too far—provided they weren’t already in the ravine.

  They’re range-raised animals. They’ve got some sense. Unlike me. She took a deep breath, pushing back a feeling of alarm.

  Did she really think she could find and bring the cattle back, all by herself? Her head throbbed, her headache returning. She was so weak; she couldn’t even drive a truck up a goddamn hill.

  Before her, a massive shape rose out of the snow.

  The truck. Snowbird came to a halt. She didn’t blame the horse. The last thing she wanted to do was approach the truck, be reminded of just how badly she’d stuffed up. She opened her mouth, intending to urge Snowbird onward.

  We don’t need quitters on this ranch. Her mouth snapped shut. She’d said those words to John. His reply still stung. She’d never forget the defeat in his voice as he turned away.

  You don’t know a single damned thing about it.

  “You’re wrong. Dead wrong—and I’m going to prove it.” She swung down from Snowbird’s back. She approached the truck.

  A nagging voice at the back of her mind urged her to hurry, said she was running out of time. Something urged Katie onwards. I have to do this. I can’t give into fear. For a few glorious hours last night, she’d been free—free of the fear haunting her since the accident. She couldn’t lose that.

  The truck was mostly covered in drifts of snow. She walked around it, looking it over, the ground crunching beneath her feet. There were no obvious signs of damage. I guess I just stalled in some mud. She crouched by the back tire. There was a bang. I wonder . . . She brushed snow from the tire, revealing a puckered hole in the rubber.

  The crisp, cold air felt like water filling her lungs. Her eyesight started going blurry, and her heart pounded so hard her chest ached. No. A stone wouldn’t puncture a tire like that. No, the hole was too neat to be anything but deliberate. But that means—

  Someone had tried to kill her.

  The police—she needed to call the police.

  But she couldn’t move.

  She didn’t know how long she crouched by the truck. The snow fell thicker, the landscape around her becoming even gloomier and more impenetrable. Snowbird whinnied, flicking his tail as he drew closer to Katie. The horse wanted to be out of there. She ran her hand over Snowbird’s neck. “We need to move.”

  But where?

  A bark broke the uncanny stillness of the hills. She stood motionless, hardly daring to raise her head. She saw a dark shape streaking across the fields toward her.

  Koda? But—

  As she stared, she saw Koda pause to nose the snow. The dog evidently had Katie’s scent. She barked once before taking off in her direction.

  She looked back the way the dog had come. Behind her was a familiar figure swaying in the saddle. John. She swallowed back a rush of warmth—and then Koda was upon her.

  “Yeah, you found me. Good girl, Koda.” Katie patted the dog’s ears. She waited for John to arrive. When he reached her, she noted how fast Redwood was breathing. They’d ridden hard to catch her.

  “Katie.” He needed a moment to catch his breath.

  “I’m fine.” She tightened her hold on Snowbird’s reins. “What are you doing here? Didn’t you quit?”

  “Yeah, I did.” He took a deep breath. “Look. I’ve been a jerk, and I’ve let you down when you relied on me. But I had to see you again.” He looked at Koda. “I had to bring you your dog.”

  “My dog?” She couldn’t believe her ears—or her eyes—as Koda padded up to her. “But you’re her partner.”

  “Some partner.” His expression twisted. “I couldn’t keep her safe. Couldn’t keep anyone safe. You—well, look at her. You think she’d be anywhere near this happy with anyone else? No, she’s your dog.”

  She looked at Koda. The dog gazed up at her with steady brown eyes. As she always did around Koda, she felt calmed by her presence. She ran a hand along Koda’s back. The dog was so much more than a companion to her. But she’s John’s everything. His only link to a past he’d been cut off from forever.

  She bit her lip. There were many things she could say to him, but as she studied the lines on his face, only one came to mind. “Help me find the cattle?”

  “You want my help? After everything?”

  “I didn’t give you an easy time,” she admitted. “And I’m still mad. But—whatever happened to you, Koda adores you. She’s not a dumb dog. She trusts you. And that’s good enough for me.”

  His eyes darkened and he cast his gaze onto the ground. “You think—you could ever trust me again?” His tone was harsh, the words ground out through gritted teeth.

  She felt a rush of warmth. She knew how hard the question was. “Already do. And don’t worry, I don’t think you’re the one who destroyed the fences.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I see the pride you take in your work. The care you take in our animals—the dogs, the horses, and Koda. I don’t think you could ever put our cattle in harm’s way. And I see you at night, patrolling to make sure I’m safe.”

  Without another word, he swung himself down from Redwood’s back. He held out his hand to her.

  Wordlessly, she took it, squeezing it tightly. “Come on, partner. We’ve got work to do.”

  Chapter 26

  The swirling storm of screaming silver had forced Katie and John to abandon their search for the cattle and take shelter in the hunting cabin. The gale whipped each flake, so pretty on its own, into a projectile that hurt unguarded skin. They’d dismounted in the run-in shed. He rubbed down Redwood, while she unhitched the saddlebags from Snowbird.

  “What happened to you over there?”

  John swallowed. “Excuse me?”

  “Overseas.” She hesitated. “When we adopted Koda, we were told about an IED.”

  “I got hurt,” he said in a low voice, still looking straight ahead.

  She took a step back from Snowbird. “Is that what you dream about?”

  He clasped the reins in his hands. “I don’t need sympathy right now. We need a plan and a fire.”

  “Well, I can work on one of those.” She picked up the saddlebag. “Dad makes a point of keeping these cabins stocked in case of emergencies like this. There’s plenty of firewood. I’ll start a fire if you finish the horses.”

  “Leave it to me.” As soon as the cabin door shut, he took a deep breath and got to work removing Snowbird’s saddle, relieved to be alone.

  But her question haunted him. What happened to you over there?

  The tone of her voice was almost tender. The last thing I want is her pity. It was hard enough catching the pain in his mother’s eyes when she looked at what he’d become. To see the same gaze on Katie was more than he could bear.

  Afte
r he’d rubbed the horses dry with a burlap sack, he grabbed a bucket to bring water to the tired animals. The pump beside the barn was creaky from the cold, but worked just fine after a few quick motions. He threw plenty of hay into the trough and then locked the gate on the fence around the shed.

  He slipped into the warm interior of the cabin to find Katie with her hands stretched out to the fire. Koda had already staked her claim on a sheepskin just in front of it. “Don’t think I’ve ever been happier to see a fire before.”

  She looked at him. “It’s just a little snow,” she said. “Haven’t you been out in worse?” Her hair splayed out at the bottom of her knit hat. There were still a few snowflakes caught on the wool.

  He felt an urge to reach out and pull off the hat before they melted. “Sure, I have. But those clouds are heavy. This could easily be way more than just a little snow.”

  She shrugged. “It’s the beginning of November, you know? Montana weather’s crazy.” She added another log to the fire and sat back in one of two rough chairs before the flames.

  He looked over at her. It surprised him how tender and protective he felt toward this woman. It had been years since he’d felt this way for any woman.

  As he watched, she dropped her gaze to the floor.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s just that up here we’re more secluded. Isolated. From everyone,” she said, refusing to look up.

  He inched closer. His socks padded softly on the hardwood floor. “You’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I swear.” He paused, but she still couldn’t look up.

  “You don’t understand.”

  He placed a finger underneath her chin. She winced, but didn’t move away. He gently lifted her face up to meet his gaze. Her eyes were brimmed with tears, and he could see the humiliation creep over her face.

  “Katie, don’t. Your father explained what happened. Why you couldn’t go inside the hospital. I wanted you to tell me when you were ready, but it just didn’t happen that way. And I’m glad he told me. But I don’t want you being scared. Or making yourself anxious because you thought I didn’t know.” He hoped his voice conveyed what he felt. No pity. Just empathy, pure and genuine.