that same old feeling
by
judith duncan


Dear Reader,

The weather's warm, and here at Sensation, the reading's hot!  Our
HEARTBREAKER this month is a certain success: Judith Duncan's That Same Old
Feeling.  It's the second of her WIDE i'EN SPACES trilogy, featuring the
McCall family of Western Canada.  Look for Eden McCall's book in August to
complete the set but, meanwhile, sit back and enjoy Chase's and Devon's
long-term love affair.  Chase is just the kind of man women adore, but what
does it take to make him settle down?

Our THE MEN OF MIDNIGHT series concludes with MacDougall's Darling, Emilie
Richards' third novel about the men born at the stroke of twelve and destined
for love beyond their wildest dreams.  And on top of this, there's a new
novel from favourite author Kathleen Eagle, who creates a vivid picture of
life as it really is for a modern Indian.  Defender is a classic tale of a
secret child and a love that never quite was.

Finally, we have the first of a fabulous new mini-series, CODE NAME: DANGER.
Night of the Jaguar is an action-packed, sexy tale of two people who never
should have met but are clearly made for each other.  And keep your eyes on
the secondary characters, Maggie and Adam, because you're going to be seeing
a lot more of them as the series continues.

It's a great month!

The Editors

That Same Old

Feeling

JUDITH DUNCAN

SILHOUETTE

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported
unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor the publisher has
received any payment for this book.

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of
the autho~r, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name
or names.  They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or
unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part
in any form.  This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin
Enterprises H B.  V.  The text of this publication or any part thereof may
not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, storage in an information
retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the
publisher.

This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade
or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the
prior consent of the publisher in any form of binding or cover other than
that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this
condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

First published in Great Britain 1996 by Silhouette Books, Eton House, 18-24
Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

Judith Mulho!  land 1994

Silhouette, Silhouette Sensation and Colophon are Trade Marks of Harlequin
Enterprises II B.  V.

ISBN 0 373 07577 4

Other novels by Judith Duncan Silhouette Sensation

A Risk Worth Taking

Better Than Before

Beyond All Reason

Wide Open Spaces

18-9607

Made and printed in Great Britain

September

Casper, l~oming

Chapter

To the good people of Bolton, Alberta, Chase McCall was something of an
enigma.  Tall, dark and handsome, he was all speed and danger and as wild as
the brones he rode, with no apparent regard for caution and even less regard
for his old man's money or opinion.  He was all brash and dash, like the
black and chrome truck he drove, and he walked with the cocky swagger of a
man who liked living on the edge.  He had danger written all over him.  With
eyes like the devil and a smile like sin, he spelled trouble,.  and fathers
made sure their daughters were at home when he came to town.

The battles between him and his father were legendary, as were most of his
hell-raising escapades, but in spite of his wild, wild ways, it was common
knowledge that.  Chase McCall was a man of his word, a man who never backed
away from a fight.  It was also common knowledge that he was close to his
half brother, Tanner McCall, old Bruce's bastard son by an Indian woman--a
son Bruce had abandoned and ignored long before Chase was even born.  In
fact, some said it was because of Chase's refusal to bend to his father's
demands to keep away from Tanner that Chase left home at eighteen and never
went back.  The good people of Bolton often speculated, now that old Bruce's
health was starting to fail, if Chase would ever come home.

Chase didn't give a damn what the good people of Bolton thought.  He'd had a
beHyful of his old man's power, his money, his bought-and-paid-for influence,
and the only way anyone would ever get him back on the McCall ranch was in a
pine box.

Now thirty-six, Chase had a freewheeling life-style that suited him.  An
ex-rod co bronc rider and all-around Canadian champion, he had retired from
active competition after a series of injuries that damn near wrecked both his
shoulders.  Tied to the action in the chutes, he started a business as a
stock contractor, supplying rough stock for major rodeos across the U.  S.
and Canada.  He was a rodeo junkie.  He had started going down the road when
he just turned nineteen, and he'd never had any regrets--except one.

But lately he'd been caught in a strange resflessness that had nothing to do
with moving on.  He wasn't sure what was picking at him, except that he had
this itch that wouldn't go away.  And a chance encounter at the stock sale
hadn't helped.  He'd run into Martin Blocker, an old neighbor from home, and
that meeting had kicked off all the same old feelings about Bolton, about his
old man, about the Bar M Ranch.  About his one regret.  And that itch of
dissatisfaction turned into a black, hungry mood.

And that mood was why he was stopping off in Casper, Wyoming, instead of
booting it through to his spread in Colorado.  He was going to find himself a
jug of Jack Daniel's, a dingy motel room, a down-on-your-luck country music
station, and then he was going to drink himself under the table.  Flipping on
the turn signal, he checked his side mirror and pulled over onto the shoulder
to make the right-hand turn for the motel.  Yeah, a meeting with old Jack
would take the edge off.  Or he could say to hell with the bottle and go to
the big quarter horse show Martin had mentioned.  It would ceItainly go
easier on his damned head.  In more ways than one.

Chase sat off from the crowd clustered in the middle of the stands, his legs
stretched out in the aisle, his arms resting on the backs of the empty seats
on either side of him.  Amusement flickered in him as he watched two buckle
bunnies hanging around the contestant gate below him, flirting with a couple
of young bucks on horses.  Some things never changed.  He'd seen enough of
that kind of action when he was still chasing points on broncs--young studs
feeling their oats, pretty girls on pretty horses strutting their stuff.  One
looking for a gold ring, the other hoping for a little action.  No wonder
he'd turned into such a black-hearted bastard.

A voice came over the PA system announcing the parade of champions, and Chase
shifted his attention, cocking his ankle across his knee.  He watched the
female standard-bearers enter the arena, remembering a day when he would have
been checking out the fannies in the saddles instead of the horseflesh under
them.  He grinned to himself.  Hell of a thing, getting old.

Reconsidering the Jack Daniel's and dingy motel room, he slouched farther
down in the seat and folded his arms, his Stetson pulled low over his eyes.
Sometimes a man had to do what a man had to do.  His interest sharpened when
the reserve champion for the halter class was led in.  A damned nice-looking
colt--had one hell of a lot more potential, he thought, than the champion~ He
watched as the horse was led around the ring, mentally recording the
bloodlines and the stable.  Might be worth checking into later.  He watched
several of the other top horses enter the ring, his mind stuck somewhere
between neutral and low gear, absently acknowledging that the show
photographer knew what she was doing.  The winner of the reining competition
was announced and Chase swung his attention to the back of the arena,
everything slamming to a dead stop when the horse and rider moved from the
shadows into the light.  ~

The black stallion entered the arena in a showy, collected trot, its neck and
tail arched, the perfectly proportioned head held with an arrogant stillness,
the white socks and star in startling contrast to the gig ming black hide.
This was blu~ribbon, championship horseflesh.  The announcer read off a list
of championships held by both the stallion and his progeny, and it became
clear that this wasn't only championship horseflesh--this was championship
horseflesh that bred chamPi0,n.  s~ hip hots0 fi .  es.  h.  ,.  ,

~: But it wash t the stud with the eye-catching conformation that made Chase
go dead still.  It was the rider.

- Feeling as if something had just slammed into his chest,

~~ his gaze on her, his pulse suddenly heavy.  She was right out of his
fantasies.

She sat astride the stallion in flawless equitation, her body

8till, almost as if she was the source of the collected hesS that was
apparent in her mount.  She sat deep in the saddle, her long, long legs
equally still, her body moving with the ease of a conditioned athlete, her
hands controlling the spirited horse with an ease born of experience.  Her
black hair was caught in a sedate twist at the nape of her neck, and she wore
her black Stetson with a wide silver hatband low over her eyes, obscuring her
face but revealing a defined jaw line.  She had on a white s'dk blouse, the
silver beadwork across the shoulders glinting in the light, those long, long
legs encased in black suede shotgun chaps with engraved silver buckles and
conchos down the sides.  Black and white.

Horse and rider.  Spiked with silver.

Experiencing a sudden sharpening of awareness, Chase watched as she reached
the center of the arena, his jaw tightening as the horse exploded into
action.  She took the stallion through a reining pattern with such finesse,
such speed, that the audience went crazy, and Chase clenched his jaw tighter,
focusing solely on her as she.  put the horse

That Same Old Feeling ll through the challenging pattern.  Her loug-sleeved
white blouse and black suede chaps made him think of white sheets and long
black nights.  Forcing himself to stay slack in his seat, Chase watched,
intrigued as hell.  Black and white.  Grace and elegance.  Skill and
horsemanship.  But it wasn't the grace and elegance stamped into every line
of her body that intrigued him, it was the sensuality he saw in her light,
light hands--how she handled the horse with the slightest touch--that stirred
something inside him he hadn't felt for a very long time.

He watched her legs, watched the barely discernible movements that cued the
horse--the touch of a spur, the smallest shift of her calf, the tightening of
her thighs--and the stallion responded, and Chase finally had to look away,
his own body responding.  Too long in the hills, McCall, he thought.  Too
damned long.  His arms folded, he stared at the toes of his sculled boots,
contemplating life.  A hell of a thing,-abstinence.  The Jack Daniel's would
have been a damned sight less disturbing.

Keeping his thoughts in check and eyes averted, he waited until the last of
the horses left the ring.  Then he quickly rose and slipped out the nearest
exit, dodging the two buckle bunnies he'd noticed earlier.  Pulling up his
collar against the early fall chill, he pushed open the heavy exit door,
angling his hat lower.  over his eyes.  Dead leaves and bits of garbage
rattled across the pavement as he headed toward the main parking lot.  He was
beginning to feel damned black--right from the inside out: A horse whinnied
nearby, and there was a commotion as someone tried to load an animal that did
not want to be loaded.  He turned to see what was going on, but his attention
got snagged on a white s'fik blouse and a black hat moving through a jam of
vehicles.  She was riding across the back parking lot, her body st'dl
motionless in the saddle, only now the black was.  putting on a
show--prancing, tossing his head, fighting the bit.

Settling his hands on his hips, Chase watched, and something happened in his
gut that made the corner of his mouth lift.  Showing off.  The damned horse
was showing off.  And she was letting him.  He watched her bring the stud
down to a walk as she threaded her way through the jumble of rigs and
p'wkups.  Then she reined up and dismounaxi by a pricey six-horse trailer and
a new dual-wheeled truck, both painted midnight blue.  Chase stared off at
the horizon.  for a m'mute, considering his options, then he shook him head,
figuring he was some kind of fool.

Turning on his heel, he headed toward the midnight blue rig.  The name of the
stable was emblazoned on both the track and the wailer--Silver Springs
Training Stables--both mats sporting Alberta plates.  Grinning to himself, he
ap-wondering what in hell he was getting himself ; since he'd stuck his neck
into a time.  Leaning against the front he hooked his thumbs in the and
crossed his ~nkles, watching storage compartment and swung back to him, she
turned to the horse and , over the saddle horn, then began undo: intricately
tooled show saddle.  A trio of expensively dread men approached her, clearly
interested in the black, and Chase folded his arms and listened as she told
them something about the stallion, where he was standing stud and what the
breeding fees were.

Shifting his position, Chase braced his full weight against the fender.
Grinning the grin that had got him into more trouble than he cared to think
about, he fixed his gaze on her and spoke.  "Hell of a horse you've got
there, ma'am.  Full of sass and prance.  Looks like he knows a thing or two
about good manners.  How is he around the ladles?"

Her head came up and she whirled, staring at him, her startled expression
accentuating her high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes.  Chase had the
sudden urge to snatch off her hat and take the pins out of the thick twist of
hair at the back of her neck.

He could see her collect herself.  Then she raised one eyebrow and gave him a
slow, shrewd smile.  "He has manners," she said, her low, husky voice making
his gut tighten.  "Not as good as some, but better than most."  The glint in
her eyes deepened.  "And his manners are just fine around the hdies."

Holding her gaze, Chase grinned at her.  "Better than most?"

She gave him a dry, amused look.  "I'd say so."

She dragged off the saddle, the sunlight glancing off the silver inlay, then
carried it to the storage compadment and slid it onto a saddle rack.

One of the men separated himself from the trio and closely inspected the
stallion, running his hand down his back legs.  The horse tossed his head,
and she gave him a sharp command.  "Duke.1 Cut it out

The stud snorted and flicked his tail, and Chase shot her an amused 1ook.
,"Duke?  As in John Wayne?"

She draped the cinch over the seat of the saddle, then flashed him another
wry smile.  "No.  As in HIS Royal Highness.  He tends to have a high opinion
of himself."

Chase grinned.  "Hell.  With what he's sired, I can't say I b/ame him."

The man finished his inspection and came around the front of of the black.
"What's his name again?"

"Doc's Regal Deuce."  Then she listed the animal's bloodlines.

The man stood back and gave the stallion another thorough inspection, and she
ducked under the horse's head and went to open the tailgate of the wailer,
then set the ramp in place.  She entered, and Chase saw that there were three
horses already loaded in the slant stalls, and he realized she was getting
ready to pull out.  His expression turning thoughtful, he watched her
expertly adjust the inside divider, then reach across to open the side vent.
The truck was top of the line, and the Wailer provided five-star
accommodations for its cargo.  She had "first class" stamped all over her.
He didn't know what in hell he was doing there.  He watched her load the
stallion and strip off the bridle, a tight smile appearing when the black
shook its head.  He knew the feeling.

The gent with the eight-hundred-dollar boots was obviously a prospective
customer, and he followed her to the compa~haent when she went to put the
bridle away.  There was a brief conversation, then she unlocked the groom's
quarters at the front of the unit, and the gentleman followed her inside.
Chase stared at the open door for a space,

then damped his jaw in a hard line.  He unfolded his arms and: ticked off for
getting drawn off the bead.

here, anyway?  He was messing another hole in the head.  Besides, he if he
had an engraved in vita-be in Colorado before noon tomorrow--he choice about
that.  Glancing at the clouds he kicked a rock out of his path xuck.  Damn it
all to hell, he should stuck with the Jack Daniel's and the dingy motel room.
He got in the truck and reached for the sunglasses lying on the dash, then
turned on the ignition.  He was feeling meaner than a one-eyed eat.
Realizing that part of his testy mood had to do with the fact that he hadn't
eaten since early that morning, he decided to grab a bite.  Then he was going
to get this rig in gear and find the highway heading south.  No more
thinking.  No more stray thoughts.  " He was going to put his brain in
neutral and his fantasies in park.

He stopped at a restaurant dose to the interstate, got himself a table by the
window, then ordered himself a T-bone with all the trimmings.  The waitress
had just taken his order and was.  walking away when the midnight blue outfit
pulled up to the lights, waited for a vehicle to pass, then made a left turn
onto the highway.  His expression stiff, Chase rested his arms on the table
and hunched over, watching it head north, his gut tightening with a feeling
that made him want to bust something.  He watched it until it passed out of
view, then he clenched his jaw and stared at his clasped hands.  Focused on
keeping it together, he rubbed his thumb along an old scar on the back of his
hand, loneliness rolling in on him like fog.  Half-forgotten memories started
to pull at him, and he tried to block the images from taking shape in his
mind, knowing he was going to be in bad shape if he didn't.  A face
intruded--an exotic face with high cheekbones and almond-shaped eyes, a smile
that made his gut tighten, a voice that slid over a man like black satin.

Annoyed by his wayward thoughts, Chase turned his head, forcing himself to
check out the inside of the restaurant.  He was doing it again, playing
stupid head games, getting caught in something that he would have one hell of
a time getting blm.  self out of.  He was going to sit here and eat his
steak, he was going to list,~-n to a lit He country music on the jukebox--and
he was going to keep his butt planted in the chair for at least an hour.

He lasted forty-five minutes.  The resflessness finally got to him, nagging
at him like a low-grade toothache, and he got up and threw a handful of money
on the table, a head of frustration building up inside him.  Whyin hell
hadn't he stayed on the road in the first place?  He didn't need this damned
distraction.

Settling his hat on his head, he pushed through the heavy front doors, his
jaw rigid as he turned toward his truck.  He was going to go home, and he was
go' rag to tear down that old 'corral with his bare hands, and he was going
to dig post holes for the new one until he was so dead tired he wouldn't be
able to lift his arms.

Getting into his track, he starl~ the engine, then wheeled onto the service
road leading to the highway.  At the same lights where the blue rig had
turned north, he rolled to a stop, waiting for a green, the frustration
building to a dangerous level.  He signaled for a right turn, a turn that
would take him south to Colorado, but images of long legs and long black
hair, of a smile that could strip a man of any willpower, pulled at him.  The
light turned green, and Chase stared out the window, wondering where in hell
his sense was.  Swearing, he abruptly wheeled into the other lane, beating an
oncoming vehicle as he made a sharp left.  Damn it, this was brain-dead
crazy.  She had a forty-five-minute lead, and it would start getting dark in
a couple of hours, but what the hell.  All he had to do was make one stop on
his way out of town.

Settling back, Chase grinned and watched the speedom-eterclimb, the restless
feeling turning into something else.  to give that midnight blue
top-of-the-line for its money, and he was going to run Long

And ~ was only one hig~hway heading ~ border.

~ out of Casper and minutes away from sense finally caught up to him.
Dis-Chase conceded that he was acting like and that this was one of the
stupidest stunts he'd years.  Not liking the feeling that was sit~'heavy in
his gut, he called it quits, even more disgusted for getting su~ by reactions
that started below his belt.

Hell, she could be anywhere between here and Billings, Montana; she could be
sitting fifteen miles outside of Casper at somebody's ranch, for all he knew.
If he kept this up, all he was going to get out of it was a speeding ticket
and a bellyful of frustration.  And he could do without both.  '

Pulling over to the shoulder, he waited for a semi to whip past in the
passing lane, then he crossed the median and headed south, irritation eating
a hole in his gut.  Lord,.  sometimes he was the biggest fool ever to put
boots on.

Twilight settled in over the barren hills as the sun dropped behind the
western horizon, and Chase slowed, watching for antelope along the road.
That would he all he needed, to hit one of those.  Rounding a curve, he
spotted some corrals and a campsite off to the left tucked into the
cottonwoods along a creek, and a movement caught his eye.  He took a second
look and stood on the brakes.  Backing up, he squinted through the deepening
dusk, his mood suddenly alta'ing.  "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, a
grin lifting the corner of his mouth.  The black was in the smallest corral
by himself, and the other three horses were in the one closest to the creek,
grazing on the lush grass along the side.  Chase braced his elbow on the open
window and rested his hand against his mouth, watching the black.  It figured.

Checking his side mirror, he eased off the brake, coasid-ering his options.
Checking the mirror again, he made a snap decision and accelerated, taking
the exit leading to the campground.  The narrow gravel road cftc led under
the bridge, and it wasn't until Chase crossed the Texas gat~ that he saw the
familiar outfit parked off to the side.  Switching off the headlights, he
rolled to a stop and raised the window, then shut off the ignition.  He sat
there, staring into the deepening dusk, his expression sober.  Somebody
should take him out and horsewhip him for this stunt--he sure in hell
deserved it.

Removing the keys, he got out of the vehicle and stuffed them in his pocket,
then set the automatic lock and s'gmtly closed the door.  He had barely
cleared his truck whe~ the door to the living quarters in the trailer opened,
and she stood in the doorway, the light from inside framing her.  The sedate
twist was gone, as were the slik blouse and chalk.  She had on a yellow tank
top an dwell-worn blue jeans, and her feet were bare.  She folded her arms
and leaned her sboul-der against the door frame, and Chase stopped, hooki!
lghis thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.  Looking at l~er from beneath
the brim of his hat, he grinned, then spoke, his voice a lazy drawl.  "I
figured it wouldn't he neighborly if I didn't stop by and say hello."  He
started toward her, something thick and heavy happening in his chest, and he
watched her, watched her chin come up, watched h~ recover from the shock of
finding him there.  His grin softening, he spoke, his voice turning husky.
"So, Slash, how the hell have you been?  It's been a damned long time."

willpower, pulled at him.  The light turned green, and Chase stared out the
window, wondering where in hell his sense was.  Swearing, he abruptly wheeled
into the other lane, beating an oncoming vehicle as he made a sharp left.
Damn it, this was brain-dead crazy.  She had a forty-five-minute lead, and it
would start getting dark in a couple of hours, but what the bell.  All he had
to do was make one stop on his way out of town.

Settling back, Chase grinned and watched the speedometer climb, the restless
feeling turning into something else.  He w~ going to give that midnight blue
top-of-t~line for its money, and he was going to run Long there was only one
highway heading ont of Casper and minutes away from sense finally caught up
to him.  Dis-With him.  e~Jf, Chase conceded that he was acting like ass and
that this was one of the stupidest stunts he'd years.  Not liking the feeling
that was sit~ heavy in his gut, he called it quits, even more disgus~xl for
getting suckered by reactions that started below his belt.  ~Hell, she could
be anywhere between here and Billings, Montana; she could be sitting fifteen
miles outside of Casper at somebody's ranch, for all he knew.  If be kept
this up, all he was going to get out of it was a speeding ticket and a
bellyful of frustration.  And be could do Without both.  '

Pulling over to the shoulder, he waited for a semi-to whip past in the
passing lane, then he crossed the median and headed south, irritation eating
a hole in his gut.  Lord," sometimes he was the biggest fool ever to put
boots on.

Twilight settled in over the bar ron hill.  q as tile sun dropped behind the
western horizon, and Chase slowed, watching for antelope along the road.
That would be all be needed, to hit one of those.  Rounding a curve, be
spotted some corrals and a campsite off to the left tuclaxi into the
cottonwoods along a creek, and a movement caught his eye.  He took a second
look and stood on the brakes.  Backing up, he squinted through the deepening
dusk, his mood suddenly altering.  "Well, I'll be damned," be muttered, a
grin lifting the corner of his mouth.  The black was in the smallest corral
by him.  qelf, and the other three horses were in the one closest to the
creek, grazing on the lush grass along the side.  Chase braced his elbow on
the open window and rested his hand against his mouth, watching the black.
It figured.

Checking his side mirror, he eased off the brake, considering his options.
Checking the mirror again, be made a snap decision and accelerated, taking
the exit leading to the campground.  The narrow gravel road circled under the
bridge, and it wasn't until Chase crossed the Texas gate that he saw the
familiar outfit parked off to the side.  Switching off the headlights, he
rolled to a stop and raised the window, then shut off the ignition.  He sat
there, staring into the deepening dusk, his expression sober.  Somebody
should take him out and horsewhip him for this stunt--he sure in bell
deserved it.

Removing the keys, he got out of the vehicle and stuffed them in his pocket,
then set the automatic lock and s'dently closed the door.  He had barely
cleared his truck when the door to the living quar~rs in the trailer opened,
and she stood in the doorway, the light from inside framing her.  The sedate
twist was gone, as were the silk blouse and chaps.  She had on a yellow tank
top and well-woru blue jeans, and her feet were bare.  She folded her arms
and leaned her should~ against the door frame, and Chase stopped, hooking his
thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans.  Looking at her from beneath the
brim of his hat, he grinned, then spoke; his voice a lazy drawl.  "I figured
it wouldn't be neighborly if I didn't stop by and say hello."  He started
toward her, something thick and heavy happening in his chest, and he watched
her, watched her chin come up, watched her recover from the shock of finding
him there.  His grin softening, he spoke, his voice turning husky.  "So,
Slash, how the hell have you been?  It's been a damned long time."

Devon Manyfeathers held her position at the door, watching him come toward
her out of the twilight, the awful tightness that had been sitting in her
chest s'nice Casper finally letting go, a different kind of tightness
settling in around her heart.

She had nearly lost it when she'd lifted her head and found him watching her
in Casper, and she had lost it when she pulled out of town.  It had nearly
killed her that he'd been able to walk away without a backward glance,
without even saying goodbye.  But here he was, walking toward her with that
loose-hipped saunter of his, smiling that full-of-hell smile.  She didn't
know whether to laugh or cry.

But she'd been in love with Chase McCall since she'd been eleven years old,
and after all those years, she knew 'that wasn't ever going to change.  And
God, it made her chest hurt, finding him here, smiling that damned smile of
his.  She had to really work to keep her throat from closing up on her, to
keep her vision from blurting.  He'd been gone so long.  And there wasn't a
day went by that she didn't mi~ him.

Determined not to let him see how his arrival had affected her, she held her
pose.  "Well if it isn't the proverbial bad penny," she said, her tone dry.
"What's the matter, Slick?  You have the sheriff chasing you again, or is
some irate husband coming after your tail?"

Chase stopped and grinned at her, tipping his head to one side.  "That's one
thing I always liked about you, Many-feathers.  You never give a damned
inch."  He lifted his chin toward the living qua.  "Are you going to invite
me in?"

She held her position, a smile lifting the corner of her mouth.  "Would it
make any difference ifI didn't?"

Unfolding his arms, he caught the edge of the door and stepped up, aligning
his body beside hers in the open doorway.  "Hell, Devon.  You know me better
than that."

She knew what he was doing, and she slid away, heading toward the tiny,
compact kitchenette.  "I suppose you're going to want some of my supper."

nat ~ame t~ta ~eeung 19

Chase took off his hat and set it on the counter, then started stripping off
his jacket, the glint in his eyes turning into a wicked gleam.  "I'll take
whatever you're offering."

Amusement flickered through her, and she turned her back to him, allowing
herself a small sraile.  His parents had certainly named him right.
Chase--he always cut fight to it.  Keeping her tone dry, she responded.
"What I'm offering is some beef stew and a bag of buns.  Take it or leave
it."

 "Is it homemade stew or that canned crap?"

She turned and gave him a long, level look.  "Do you always go out of your
way to endear yourself to the cook, or axe you just being nice on my account?"

He grinned at her and braced his hand on the corner of the tiny closet,
holding her gaze with the kind of amused familiarity that made her insides
chum.  "So you find me endearing, do you?"

She gave him another look of mild rebuke.  "If you want to go fishing,
McCall, there's a creek on the other side of those trees."

His gaze fixed on her, he continued to grin.  at her, the Elint in his dark
hazel eyes intensifying.  His dark curly hair was different from the last
time she'd seen him--shorter on the sides and nearly touching his collar at
the back--and he had a small scar just above one eyebrow that hadn't been
there before.  There was something~ a little different about his face, a
little leaner, perhaps, the creases around his eyes just a little
deeper--maybe, may he just a little leas bitterness.  He held her gaze, the
expression in his eyes softening, becoming a little warmer, a little more
intimale--the look you gave someone you'd known a long, long time.  He
finally spoke, his voice oddly husky.  "You're a real piece of sass,
Many-feathers."

Something in his tone, something in his eyes, set off a fierce ache in
Devon's chest, and her throat got so tight that she wasn't sure she could
swallow.  Of all the things she missed after he left, it was that special,
nothing-to-hide friendship she'd missed the most.  They were soul mal~and had
been for a very long time.  She scraped up a smile.  "Turn off the charm,
Slick.  Are you going to have some of my stew or not?"

He smiled into her eyes.  "Is it homemade?"

She rolled her eyes, then let out a sigh of exasperation.  "Yes, it's
homemade.  And since you're such a stew purist, it's even made with McCall
beef.  We bought a steer from Tanner last fall and had it butchered."

He straightened.  "Well, hell.  Why didn't you say so right up front?"  He
went to the slnic~ rolling back his cuffs, and started washing his hands.
"Let's get ths show on the road."

Chase was actually pretty handy in a kitchen.  He doctored up the stew while
Devon made a salad, and she recalled that one wonderful fall when he'd spent
nearly a month with her.  It had been as close to perfect as she'd ever
come--and now it was almost as though he'd never been away.

"So tell me what's happening back home.  How are Sam and Marj doing?"

Sam Creswell was the owner of Silver Springs, and next to Chase, the oldest
friend Devon had.  He and his wife, Marj, had given her a job whe~ she was
fifteen years old, and after her mother had taken off, they had given her a
home, a place to belong, and she'd he~ working for him ever since.  The two
of them were the closest thing to real family she'd ever had.

D~on smiled and shook her head.  "He's still the same.  He turned sixty-five
in the spring and started bringing home travel information on Caribbean
cruises and resorts in Arizona.  He and Marj am leaving on a cruise right
after the New Year--they'll he gone a month."

Chas~ tasted the stem and dug through the f~w cans of spices in the tiny
cupboard by his head.  "And how's Marj?"

Devon sighed' and dumped the shredded cabbage into a bowl, scraping off the
cutting board with the blade of her knife.  "That's one reason Sam started
hauling home vacation information, .I think.  She's been having all kinds of
trouble with her arthritis, and she finds the winters really hard to handle.
She never says anything, but we hardly ever see her down at the arena once
the cold weather settles in."

Chase adjusted the heat under the stew, then leaned against the counter and
folded his arms, watching her shred more cabbage.  "That's got to he hell on
Sam, watching her lose ground like that," he said gruffly.

She looked at him, caught a little off guard by the gruff-ness in his voice,
and she saw something in his expression that made her change the subjecL .

"Have you talked to Tanner lately?"

His expression of disquiet rema'med for a moment, then he gave a noncommittal
shrug.  "I talked to him a couple of weeks ago.  Why?"

"Then you know that Kate's pregnant again."

He met her gaze and smiled.  "Yeah.  They told me when they were down ~
July."  He shook his head, his expression softening again.  "He sure got one
hell of a family when he mar fled Kate.  You'd swear to God those two boys
were his, and that A111son is going to break a few hearts down the road."  He
handed Devon the bottle of salad dressing she indicated, watching as she
added it to the coleslaw.  "It's hard to believe that she's coming on two
already.,

Devon sorted the top on the dress' mE then glanced at his face, her insides
taking a funny drop when she saw how deep in his thoughts he was.  She
considered asking him about his parents but derided against it.  She'd heard
that his father wasn't well, but she wasn't going to get into that after a
two-year absence.  She knew ff he wanted to talk about it, he would have
brought it up himself.

She licked a dollop of dressing off her finger, then stuck a spoon in the
salad.  "Let's eat."

Twilight settled into darkness, and they sat in the small eating nook, the
sounds from outside drifting in through the open window above the sink.  And
Devon hoarded every minute.  She told him all the news she could think of; he
told her what he'd been up to, what he was doing with his Yffe.

After they finished their supper, Devon cleaned up, and Chase went out to
feed the horses and take them down to the creek to water them.  She had the
dishes washed and fresh coffee made by the 6me he returned.  He closed the
door behind him and took off his jacket, hanging it on the hook behind the
door, then pulled off his boots in the bootjack.  She was standing at the
s'mk, drying the last of the cutlery and putting it in the drawer, and he
came up behind her, reaching for two mugs from the cupboard above her head.
Devon nearly dropped everything.  He didn't touch her, but she could feel the
heat from his body, and she braced herself and closed her eyes, sensations
washing through her, making her body tighten and hum.  He was too close.  Too
dose.  And it had been such a long, long time.

Chase poured two cups of coffee, then leaned against the stove, watching her.

Striving to keep her voice normal, she lifted her chin toward the compartment
above the small fridge.  "I think there's a bag of cookies up there if you
want some."

He raised his mug and took a sip, then spoke, his voice husky.  "Look at me,
Slash."

His tone set off such a reaction in her that she could barely stay erect, and
she closed her eyes again, trying to Corral her feelings.  She heard him set
his mug down, then he held her jaw and turned her face toward him, his
expression unsmiling, his eyes dark and intent.  "Come on, Dev," he said, his
voice whiskey soft.  "Aren't you going to ask me how come I turned up in
Casper today?"

Held transfixed by the intimacy of his touch, she stared at him, her insides
balling up into a wad of dread.  Dear God, what would she do if this was the
final goodbye?

Chapter 2

Her system overloaded, her pulse heavy, her heart laboring against it, Devon
stared at him, sure that if he removed his hand she would crumple to the
floor.

Smiling slightly, he stroked her lip again, his voice softer, huskier, more
seductive.  "Ask me, Slash."

Mesmerized by the look in his eyes, she somehow managed to swallow, ~ voice
so uneven it didn't sound like her own.  "How come you were in Casper?"

Chase slid his fingers along her neck, his touch making her shiver; then he
rubbed his thumb against her frantically beating pulse point.  "I ran into
Martin Blocker in B'filings," he said, his voice gruff and very low.  "He'd
seen Sam a couple of days ago, and he told me you were going to be there."

That admission did unbearable things to her heart, and she closed her eyes
against the sudden fullness in her chest.

Chase shifted his hold, taking her face in his hands.  "Look at me, babe," he
whispered.  "I need you to look at me."  '

~Feeling as if she was drowning, she opened her eyes, drugged by sensation,
paralyzed by his touch.  He stared at her, his expression strained.  Then he
tipped her ace up and slowly lowered his head, and Devon made a helpless
sound and let her eyes drift shut.  Exerting pressure on her jaw, he opened
her mouth, then covered it in a wet, deep, searching kiss that drove eve~
ounce of strength out of her body and made her knees buckle.

Gathering her up in a hard, enveloping embrace, he drew her between his
thighs, working his mouth hungrily against hers, drawing her hips even
closer.  Devon couldn't breathe, she couldn't think; all she could do was
hang on and ride out the thousand sensations exploding in her.  Chase caught
her by the hips and molded her flush against him, his mouth wide and hot as
he ran his hand under her tank top and up her back.  He emitted a low sound
of approval when he en-counl~red nothing but bare skin, and he slid his hand
up her bare torso, cupping her breast, stroking her with his thumb.

His touch drove the breath right out of her, and she made another helpless
sound against his mouth.  Chase tightened his arm around her back and dragged
his mouth away, his breathing labored~ Her heart racing and her pulse thick
and heavy, she turned her face against his neck, the warmth of his- hand
filling her with a heavy weakness.

"God, baby, but you feel so good," he whispered raggedly, dragging his
fingers against her hardened nipple.  Her whole body t~rmbling, Devon turned
her face tighter against the soft skin of his neck, hanging on to him with a
frantic strength, the feel of him against her totally disabling her.

Dragging his hand free of her tank top, he slid it under her hair to cup the
back of her neck, holding her even closer.  "We don't have much room to move
in here," he whispered unevenly, his touch meant to comfort as he stroked her
skin.  He took a deep breath, rubbing his hand up her neck, then spoke again,
a hint of amusement in his voice.  "And somehow we've got to make it from
here to the bunk."

Not sure she was go' rag to be able to stand on her own, Devon loosened her
grip, but Chase didn't let go of her.  Turning with her, he reached out and
turned off the over--head light.  Holding her head against him, he backed her
over to the trailer overhang.  And to the big double bed.

He caught her hair in a thick rope and smoothed it down the middle of her
bac~k, then tightened his arms around her, tucking him face against he~S.
"You're going to have to let go, Slash," he whispered gruffly.  "Tve got to
get a package out of my jacket."

Devon would rather have cut off both her arms than let him go right then--and
she knew what he was going to get out of his jacket.  She didn't think she
could bear having anything between them tonight, not even that.  She
tightened her hold.  "You don't need it," she whispered unevenly.  "Not
tonight."

Chase went very still, then he shuddered and crushed her against him, roughly
turning his face against her neck.  "Are you sure?"

She caught the back of his head and tightened her hold, realizing for the
first time that her face was wet.  Swallowing hard, she caressed his scalp.
"Yes," she whispered unsteadily.  "Tm sure."

His only response was a long, heavy stroke across her hips; then he slid both
hands up her rib cage and under her top.  Drawing a deep, unsteady breath, he
eased away from her and spoke, his voice very gruff.  "Lift your arms."

Unable to step away from his body, Devon did as he instructed, her breath
jamming in her chest as he stripped.  the garment from her.  His breathing
ragged, he yanked his shirt free of his jeans, and Devon weakly rested her
head against his jaw, her whole body starting to unravel as he groped for the
snaps on his sleeves.

The instant he was free of his shirt, he roughly whispered her name and
hauled her flush against him, and Devon lost a whole piece of reality when he
rubbed his chest against her naked breasts.  Catching a handful of hair, he
twisted her head back, covering her mouth with a kiss that was meant to
incite, to ignite, to devastate, and Devon made a low sound.  Adjusting the
fit of his mouth against hers, he absorbed the sound, running his hands up
her rib cage, rolling her hardened nipples with his thumbs.

Devon couldn't stand iL Fighting for every breath against the frenzy inside
her, she drank in the moistness' of his mouth, drawing his tongue deeper and
deeper, and he rolled her nipples again as a frenzy of need seized her.
Sobbing against his mouth, she fumbled to release the heavy buckle on his
belt, then ran her fingertips up the thick, hard ridge under his zipper and
molded her hand against it.  Chase grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand
away, making a hoarse sound dee ping his throat.  Dragging her arms around
his neck, he tempered the kiss; then, inhaling raggedly, he eased away from
her and undid the front of his jeans.  His breathing harsh and labored, he
rested his forehead against her, as if collecting some control; then he undid
her jeans and slid his hands under her panties.  His hands splayed wide on
her hips, he slowly, slowly shoved everything down, his mouth grazing her
collarbone, the tip of one breast, her midriff.

Tipping her head back, Devon clutched his shoulders, her knees giving way
when he dragged his hot, wet mouth across her belly.  Straightening, he
caught her in his arms and dumped her into the bunk, and before she had time
to react, he had yanked off his jeans and hoisted himself in beside her.
Drawing air through cleat bed ~eeth, he dragged her against him, and Devon's
senses went into overload when his body connected with hers, the feel of him
thick and hard and fully aroused at the juncture of her thighs driving the
breath from her.  Grasping the back of her head, he covered her mouth with
another blistering kiss, his fingers tangling in her hair, his heart
hammering against her.  Tightening his hold on her head, he wedged his knee
between her legs, then pressed her onto her back, and Devon fought for breath
as he set fled heavily between her thighs.  The feel of him.  Oh,

God, the feel of him-it was too much.  And it wasn't nearly enough.

Drawing up her knees, she tried to slip her hand between the~n, wanting him
inside her, but Chase grabbed her wrist, forcing her arm against the bed.
"No, baby," he ground out hoarsely.  "Not yet.  God, I need to hold you for a
while first."  His hand still cradling her head, he held her against him, his
whole body trembling, and Devon closed her eyes and held on to him, aware of
the-tears slipping down her temples into her hair.

Chase held her immobile beneath him, his face buried in the tumble of her
hair, then finally he took an unsteady breath and raised his head, brushing
his mouth against hers with agonizing slowness.  Devon tried to move beneath
him, to bring his head down to, increase the pressure of his mouth, but he
resisted.  His mouth barely ~touching hers, he ran his tongue along her
bottom lip.  "God, but you taste so good--so damned good."

Devon lifted her head, needing more from him, and he supported her as he
deepened the kiss, then slowly, so slowly, flexed his hips against hers,
aligning the thick, hard ridge of his arousal against her pelvis, and Devon
sobbed against his mouth, thrusting her hips up to increase the pressure.

He stroked her cheek with the heel of his hand, his fingers deep in her hair,
ta~ting her, savoring the moistness of her mouth.  "Easy, babe," he whispered
gruffly.  "Easy.  Just enjoy it."  He made another foray into her mouth, his
touch moist and tormenting.  "We've got all night."

Feeling as if she was drowning in the thick, pulsating sensations, Devon
shuddered and turned her face against him as he worked his way down her neck,
his touch turning her boneless.  Sinking into the sensation, sinking into the
unbelievable pleasure.

He took his time, savoring her neck, the hollow behind her ear, the sensitive
part under her jaw, then he returned to her mouth, kissing her with a
thoroughness that went on and on and on.  Dragging his mouth away, he
shuddered and turned his head against hers, the muscles in his back bunching
as he flexed his hips aga'mst her one more time.

It w;is too much.  Devon cried out his name and arched against him, her body
tightening, tightening as she clutched at his back and lifted her hips.
Chase thrust his arm under her hips and shifted~ then, with an agonized
groan, he thrust into her, burying himself in her swolleil, wet lie at His
whole body went rigid, and he roughly adjusted his hold; then, gathering his
strength, he thrust into her again and again.  Devon came apart in his arms;
the tightness converging into one throbbing center, and on one deep, urgent
thrust, that center exploded, and convulsions ripped through her, making her
arch and cry out.  Clutching her head against him, Chase locked his arm
around her hips, thrusting again and again; then he made a ragged sound and
shuddered violently in her arms, his release as cataclysmic as hers.

Devon hung on to him and turned her face against his 'neck, the emotional
aftermath as wrenching as the re-lease--she felt raw and was weeping and in a
million pieces.  As if it took the last bit of energy he had, Chase adjusted
his hold, his hand splayed wide at the back of her head, holding her with
such absolute tenderness that it made her throat close up all over again.  He
could turn her inside out, and God, how she loved him.

He held her for a long, long time, until his breathing leveled out and she
stopped shaking, until the aftermath softened into something less intense.

Cradling her head against him, he dragged his arm out from under her and
reached up, fumbling for the light.  He finally located the switch and turned
it on, the small wall-mounted light filling the space with a muted amber
glow.  Bracing his weight on his forearms, he cupped her face, wiping away
'the traces of tears with his thumbs.  Then, with a heavy sigh, he lowered
his head and gave her the sweetest, softest kiss.  Releasing another sigh, he
lifted his head and

~ nat dame cna reeung zy gazed down at her, a glint of intimate amusement
lightening his eyes.  "You do pack one hell of a punch, Slash."

Her throat still unbearably tight, she looked at him, trying to blink away
the tears.  Swallowing again.  ~t the clog of emotion, she smoothed her hand
up his long, muscled back.  "I thought we agreed that you weren't going to
call me that anymore."

He smiled into her eyes, caressing her cheekbone with his thumb.  "I said I'd
think about it.  I never said I'd do it."

"I was sixteen years old.  I think we could give it a rest."  He chuckled and
leaned down and gave her a quick kiss.  "Hell, it's not every day that a
woman gets you out of your jeans with a buck knife."

"Your leg was broken in two places, Chase," she reminded him.

He grinned.  "That always struck me as a weak-kneed ex-cnse.  Considering
where we were headed and what we had planned."

She gave him a chastising look.  "Whatyou had planned.  You lived by your
hormones, McCall, and you know it."

A smile still in his eyes, he trailed his thumb against her upper lip.  "If
you'd been toad-ugly, it would have helped."

She laughed and gave him a quick squeeze.  "Toad-ugly.  Don't you think
you're carrying this good-old-boy thing a little too far?"

"NahY

He shifted his hips, and Devon gripped him as her expression altered.  "Don't
go," she whispered, her voice suddenly uneven.

His expression turning serious, he lowered his head and brushed a light kiss
against her mouth.  "I'm not moving, babe," he whispered huskily.  "I'll stay
right here as long as you want me to."

She thought about forever.  Instead she smoothed her hands up his back and
murmured against his mouth, "Do you think you could manage a week?"

~l lint same tIla l~elmg

Chase chuckled and moved inside her, as he moistened her bottom lip.  "I can
give it my best shot."

She sighed and moved beneath him, caught in the same old feeling he always,
always aroused in her.  Like she was sinking into something sweet and warm.

Chase awoke very early the next morning to the gray half-light before dawn,
at toned to the familiar weight in his arms before he even opened his eyes.
Gently catching her by the back of her head, he carefully reposifioned her
weight on his shoulder, flexing 'his fingers to work out the pins and
nee-dies, then slipped his arm around her hips.  Gathering the thick silk of
her hair into one heavy cord, be smoothed it down her skin, the yard-long
strands clinging to his hands, as he pressed a kiss against the top of her
head.  Her hair was something else.  In a braid it was as thick as his wrist
and dead straight, and so black it looked blue under some lights.  But it
felt like silk and it glimmered like satin, and he sometimes teased her that
she used the same show shine on it that she used on the horses.  When he'd
first known her, it had reached past her waist, but now it fell midway down
her back.

Chase smiled.  That was the first fight they'd ever had--the row they'd had
over her hair.  She'd been maybe fourteen, and he'd wanted her to go out to
the gun range his old man had set up on the Bar M for target practice.  She'd
said she couldn't go because she was going to get her hair cut.  He'd yelled
at her, saying there was no damned way he was letting Essie Malone loose on
her hair with a pair of scissors-hell, she would come out looking like a boy.
Devon said she was getting darned tired of dragging all that hair around,
and she was going to get it hacked off.  After arguing back and forth for
twenty minutes, they finally argued themselves into a compromise.  He had
braided her hair into one long, thick braid and cut it off at her shoulder
blades.  Then he'd gone with her to Essie's salon and watched as the
hairdresser straightened out his mess.  Chase grinned, slowly rnnning his
hand over the thick, silky mass.  He still had that braid somewhere--he'd
come across it not long ago.

Shifting his head, he looked at her, lifting a stray strand that clung to her
cheek.  She wasn't really beautiful, but there was something exotic and
unique about her that made men look.  But part of that, he suspected, was the
way she carried herself, the way she moved.  She was tall, a touch over five
foot nine, with small breasts and a long, slender body--and legs that went on
for ever and ever.  But it was how she moved, with the long-legged stride of
a runway model, yet with the grace and power of an athlete.  He'd spent more
time than he could count just watching her walk.  He didn't know how others
saw her, but frankly, he thought she was damned near perfect.

"If you think I'm moving, you're in for a big surprise, Slick."

He grinned, getting a charge out of how she'd caught him unawares again.  He
didn't know how she did it--waking up without a hint of warning.  He gave her
a little squeeze.  "That's pretty cute, Manyfeathers, waking up without
waking up."

Her eyes still closed, she smiled against him.  "It's an old Indian trick."

Amusement flickered through him, and he stroked her hip.  He'd bought that
line a couple of times when they first started hang' rag around together,
then he found out that the only time she'd spent on a reservation was driving
through one.  He'd thrown her in the dugout behind the barn when he found out
she'd been putting him on.  She'd been laughing so hard she hadn't been able
to put up much of a fight.  Of course, she'd pulled him in with her.

Still smiling, he ran his hand down the full length of her hair.  "What time
is it?"

She never moved a muscle.  "Ten to six."

He grinned again.  He was just testing.  Actually, he never could quite buy
it, but she had this internal clock that was accurate, plus or minus ten
minutes.  He always figured she would have been one bell of a medicine woman
in another place, another time.  He gave her hip a little pinch.  "Is that an
old Indian trick, too?"

He felt her smile again.  "Don't start, McCall.  Or I'll shove you on the
floor."

He wasn't too worried.  She'd always been slow to get moving.  In fact, he
liked her best in the mornings--slow-moving, a little lazy, sexy as bell.
Then something always happened around nine-thirty or ten.  It was as if her
metabolism kicked in, and she never ran out/)f juice--she just kept going and
going until she crashed about six or seven.  But he wasn't going to start
anything here, either.  If she did decide to dump him on the floor, he would
have one hell of a fight on his hands--and he could think of better things to
do.  Another smile softened his expression.  He didn't know how many times
they'd made love last night, but it didn't matter.  It would never be enough.
Shifting slightly, he drew her leg completely over his; then be began softly
stroking her breast.

She smacked his hand away.  "Cut it out, McCall.  It's six in the morning."

His amusement intensified, and he trailed his fingers down the side of her
breast.  "Just ignore me."

"Yeah.  Right."  With a resigned sigh, she raised herself up on one elbow and
shook her hair back, then looked at him, her' eyes all smoky from sleep.  "I
have no taste, do you know that?"  she said, her voice husky and sexy as
hell.  "You always look like something out of a spaghetti Western in the
morning."  She ran bet thumbnail over the heavy stubble along his jaw.  "All
you need is a se tape and a cheroot clenched in your teeth."

He gave her a lazy grin, slowly running his hand up the back of her thigh,
liking the way her black, shiny hair-fell around her shoulders, liking the
way her eyes got all soft and inviting.  "What's the matter, Slash?  You want
me to park my shooting iron at the door?"

She gave him an amused half grin.  "God, but you are vain."

Experiencing a thickness in his chest, Chase lifted a swath of her hair.
Maybe if he didn't like her so damned much, maybe he could let it go.  But
she made him laugh, and she would do anything he asked of her--except marry
him.  Disconnecting from that thought, he caressed the swell of her breast
with the backs of his fingers.  Trying to stay away from all the danger
zones, he kept it light.  "Why don't you come up here and say that?"

Her eyes got dark, the pulse point in her neck beating, and she gave him a
smile that he felt all the way down to his toes.  With the sensuousness of a
cat, she slithered on top of him, her hair spilling around them as she
straddled his hips, then slowly--so slowly--took him into her, her gaze
riveted on his, and Chase clenched his jaw, the pleasure so intense it made
his whole body respond.  Once he was fully inside her, she settled her weight
on him, then softly, so softly, she cupped his face in her hands and leaned
over and kissed him~ her mouth moist and pliant and unbelievably gentle.

When she finally eased away, he slid his hand up to the back of her head and
pulled her again.  ~t him, releasing a very shaky sigh.  "I need to hold you,
Dev," he whispered unevenly.  "God, but I've mi.~d holding you like this."
And be had.  Sex with her always felt like the first time-, it was the
best--the absolute best.  But this was what filled up the holes inside him,
being deep inside her and holding her like this, feeling as if they had
become part of one another.  And she understood how much he needed that.
There was one time, after Oran died, when she had held him all night like
this, and he'd never forgotten it.  And he never would.  He could not have
felt closer to another human being than he'd felt with her that night.  Or
now.

Pvlling her hair out of the way, he kissed the base of her neck, then cradled
her tightly against him, letting the sensations wash through his whole body.
It didn't get any better than this.  It couldn't.  Closing his eyes against
the sudden thickness in his throat, he turned his face against her neck and
tightened his arms around her.  He would take all of this he could get.

He knew when she'd drifted back to sleep.  A small smile surfaced, and he
managed to snag the sheet and pull it over her, tucking it around her
shoulders.  Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds from outside, drawing
in the soul-deep calm she always brought him.

The sky had started to lighten, and he could hear the horses moving around,
when she stirred and straightened one leg alongside his.  "You can start
moving anytime, McCall," she murmured against his neck, her voice thick with
sleep.

Chase tipped his head back and laughed, then hugged her hard.  "God, but
you've got nerve.  Falling asleep at a critical time."

He felt her smile against him.  "You don't know the meaning of critical."
Sliding her hand up his neck, she moistened his ear and contracted her
muscles around him.

Chase nearly went into full cardiac arrest.  Lord, but she knew how to push
all his buttons.  Grasping her straightened leg, he pulled her knee up, then
put cons'uterable effort into a long, hot, wet kiss.  "-We'll see about
critical," he murmured against her mouth, then moved, slow and deliberate.
And suddenly it didn't matter that their time was running out.

The rays of the sun were cresting the horizon when reality checked in.  He
had a six-hour drive ahead of him, which he was going to have to make in
five.  And he knew she would have been on the road an hour ago if he hadn't
been there.  Releasing a heavy sigh, he tucked her hair back and nestled her
closer, his expression sobering.  Sometimes he wondered why they kept doing
this to each other--tearing each other up with brief periods like this, then
enduring long, empty months of grinding loneliness.  He sometimes wondered
what would have happened if he'd never gone back af~ she refused to come with
him.  Maybe they would both have gone on with their lives.  He looked at her,
experiencing a twist around his heart.  And then again, maybe not.

"You're awfully quiet."

His expression solemn, he smoothed her hair into one long fall.  "I've got to
roll out of here in an hour or so."  He didn't add that it ticked him off
just thinking about it.

She shifted her head and brushed a kiss against his chest, then she spoke,
her voice husky and l~xtured like satin.  "Are you heading back to Colorado?"

"Yeah."  Yeah.  He was heading south to Colorado.  She was heading north to
the Canadian border.  "And suddenly he wanted to put his fist through
something.

He wasn't sure how he got out of there without losing his cool.  He'd known
when he went after her that this was only a Imnporary thing, that absolutely
nothing would come of it.  They were like two trains on different
tracks--some-times they got close enough to touch, but an actual connection
was impossible.  That was why he hadn't been back to Bolton for nearly two
years--because the last time he was there, it took him six months to shake
the anger that had simmered just below the surface.  He didn't know why he'd
been ready to bash heads last time, and he didn't know why he felt that way
now.  He just knew he had to get the hell out of there before he blew
sky-high.

It wasn't until he pulled onto the highway and quit watching for her in the
rearview mirror that he tried to pick his reaction apart, to sort it out.
Part of it--the surface level of anger--was left over from his last battle
with his old man.  A battle fought over his association with Tanner--and the
fact that his father had found out he'd been sleeping with Devon Manyfeathers
for several months.  It had been one hell of a row.  And he'd sworn then that
once he walked out the door, he would never go back.  And he hadn't.  But
that was only part of the anger.  And he knew better than to go

That Sam, Old Feeling picking through the rest of it.  The last time he'd
done that, he wasn't fit to be around for nearly a year.

Staring at the white lines flashin by, he braced his ann on the window and
rested his hand across his mouth, deliberately shifting his line of thought.

He often wondered why be and Devon hooked up the way they had.  She'd been a
very mature eleven and he'd been fourteen, and even then, there had been a
weird kind of recognition.  Like they had known each other forever.  Thinking
about that first meeting, Chase smiled slightly.  Hell, she had set him on
his butt the first time he laid eyes on her.

It had been in the spring of the year when Devon and her mother turned up in
Bolton and rented a shack down by the river.  She'd been tall and quiet, with
a sweetly maturing body and that long black hair, and she caught his
attention right off, as if someone had set fled a rope around him.  Chase's
smile deepened.  Actually, if memory served him correctly, she had snared a
lot of attention.  And when a couple of his classmates started putting the
moves on her, he'd appointed himself as her guardian.  And he'd ham-meted a
few faces over the years because a few jerks had tried coming on to her.
Yea]l, they had been buddies right from the beginning.

In fact, she'd been more than a buddy; she'd been one hell of a friend, and
she'd pulled his ass out of a sling more than once.  He could always count on
her--it didn't matter if he needed a second when the teenagers of Bolton
headed out to the stretch of highway they secretly used as a drag strip, or
ff it was riding point on a hell-for-leather horse drive, Devon never once
let him down.  She had run cover for him, she had bailed him out of a pile of
trouble over the years, and she had been there for him when Gran died--and
she had given him her virginity when she was sixteen years old.  And other
than Tanner, she had been the one constant in his life.

A recollection from that final blowout with his old man surfaced, and Chase
experienced a flashback of the fury he had felt that night.  It had been one
ugly scene, with his mot!  ~ in hysterics and his father in a rage.  But in
spite of his mother's last-ditch concessions and his father's threats, he had
left anyway and gone to live at the Circle S with his bastard half brother.

His leaving had created one hell of a stir, but it was when his old man found
out he was sleeping with Devon that the sauce really hit the fan.  And that
was when he realized just how much his ira rents disgusted him and that he
hated what.  they stood for even more.  But up to that point, it was just
another big bat He between him and his father.  What finished it for good was
when his old man had him arrested for auto theft.  Since his truck had been
registered in his father's name, the RCMP had no choice but to pick him up.
Devon had been with him, and she was the one who went for Tanner, and it was
Tanner who bailed him out of jail that time.  But it was Bruce's lawyer who
talked him out of pressing charges.

Chase knew he could never put up with his father's BS if he stuck around
Bolton.  And since he'd had a fair amount of success in the local rodeos, he
had decided to go after his pro rodeo ticket.  It took him a year, and the
rest was history.

Almost history.  Devon was still only sixteen when he went down the road, and
she had just gone to live with Sam and Marj at Silver Springs, But when he
left, he promised her he would be back for her.

And it was a promi~ he'd kept.  During the first two years, when he was
carving out a space for himself on the pro rodeo circuit, he'd spent as much
time as he could at the Circle S, and as much of that time as he could with
Devon.  Life was good, he was racking up the points, and he thought he had
the world by the tail.  Or at least he did until Devon turned eighteen and
graduated from high school, and he wanted to get married.  It had never
entered his head that she picking through the rest of it.  The last time he'd
done that, he wasn't fit to be around for nearly a year.

Staring at the white lines flashing by, he braced his arm on the window and
rested his hand across his mouth, deli her-lately shifting his line of
thought.

He often wondered why he and Devon hooked up the way they had.  She'd been a
very mature eleven and he'd been fourteen, and even then, there had been a
weird kind of recognition.  Like they had known each other forever.  Thinking
about that first meeting, Chase smiled slightly.  Hell, she had set him on
his butt the first time he laid eyes on her.

It had been in the spring of the year when Devon and her mother turned up in
Bolton and ranted a shack down by the river.  She'd been tall and quiet, with
a sweetly maturing body and that long black hair, and she caught his
attention right off, as if someone had settled a rope around him.  Chase's
smile deepened.  Actually, if memory served him correctly, she had snared a
lot of attention.  And when a couple of his classmates started putting the
moves on her, he'd appointed himself as her guardian.  And he'd ham-m~ed a
few faces over the years because a few jerks had tried coming on to her.
Yeah, they had been buddies right from the beginning.

In fa~t, she'd been more than a buddy; she'd been one hell of a friend, and
she'd pulled his ass out of a sling more than once.  He could always count on
her--it didn't matter if he needed a second when the teenagers of Bolton
headed out to the stretch of highway they secretly used as a drag strip, or
if it was riding point on a hell-for-leather horse drive, Devon never once
let him down.  She had run cover for him, she had bailed him out of a p'd of
trouble over the years, and she had been there for him when Gran died--and
she had given him her virginity when she was sixt~n years old.  And other
than Tanner, she had been the one constant in his life.

"A recollection from that final blowout with his old man surfaced, and Chase
experienced a flashback of the fury he had felt that night.  It had been one
ugly scene, with his mother in hysterics and his father in a rage.  But in
spite of his mother's last-ditch concessions and his father's threats, he had
left anyway and gone to live at the Circle S with his bastard half brother.

His leaving had created one hell of a stir, but it was when his old man found
out he was sleeping with Devon that the sauce really hit the fan.  And that
was when he realized just how much his parents disgusted him and that he
hated what.  they stood for even more.  But up to that point, it was just
another big battle between him and his father.  What finished it for good was
when his old man had him arrested for auto theft.  Since his truck had been
registered in ~ father's name, the RCMP had no choice but to pick him up.
Devon had been with him, and she was the one who went for Tanner, and it was
Tanner who bailed him out of jail that time.  But it was Bruce's lawyer who
talked him out of pressing charges.

Chase knew he could never put up with his father's BS if he stuck around
Bolton.  And since he'd had a fair amount of success in the local rodeos, he
had decided to go after his pro rodeo ticket.  It took him.  a year, and the
rest was history.

Almost history.  Devon was still only ~ when he went down the road, and she
had just gone to live with Sam and Marj at Silver Springs, But when he left~
he promised her he would he back for her.

And it was a promise he'd kept.  During the first two years, when he was
carving out a space for himself on the pro rodeo circuit, he'd spent as much
time as he could at the Circle S, and as much of that time as he could with
Devon.  Life was good, he was racking up the points, and he thought he had
the world by the tail.  Or at least he did until Devon turned eighteen and
graduated from high school, and he wanted to get mar fled It had never
entered his head that she would say no.  And he was such a self-centered,
egotistical bastard that he wouldn't even listen to what she was trying to
tell him, that she needed a place to belong.  As far as he was concerned, it
was all her fault, and when he hit the road that spring, he vowed he would
never go back.

And he didn't.  Not for four years.  And he probably wouldn't have gone back
then, except he'd grown up some, and he missed her like hell.  He'd spent a
fair amount of time with a half-breed bronc rider, and that had made him
realize just what a lousy life she'd had as a kid.  It f'many sank in that
she needed roots, respectable roots--and that the Silver Spring Training
Stables had given her that.  He'd felt pretty much like a first-class son of
a bitch when he went to see her that time.  He knew just how damned glad she
was to see him; he could see it in her eyes.  He beat him.  nell up pretty
good over that, over being so slow to figure things out and for hurting her
the way he had.  He had a buggered-up shoulder and one wrecked knee and was
definitely out of commission as far as sitting a bronc was concerned, so he
ended up spending a month with her in the little house provided for her at
Silver Springs.

Chase rubbed his thumb against his bottom lip, smiling a little.  It still
amazed him when he thought back on it.  That his staying hadn't been at all
sexual.  In fact, as weird as it seemed now, they had stayed clear of all
that the whole time he was ~.  It was simply the resurrection of a very old
and important friendship.

And he'd vowed he was going to keep it at that.  Anything else was just too
damned confusing.  But then they'd had a chance meeting in the barns at a
major rodeo and quarter horse show in Las Vegas.  She had been on the verge
of pneumonia and running a high fever.  He'd arranged for a buddy to look
after her horses, and he'd taken her to a hotel and put her to bed.  Only
somehow or other, he'd ended up in bed with her, in spite of his good
intentions.  It was a night he would be a long time forgetting.  It had been
one hell of a homecoming.

But that night had effectively screwed up the easygoing friendship they had
reestablished the year before--and now he didn't know what they had.
Whatever it was, she was in deep under his skin.  There were more times than
he wanted to count when he got drunk enough that he broke down and phoned
her, needing to hear the sound of her voice like he needed his next breath.
And all he knew for sure was that he went through a meaner-than-hell period
every time he left her.  But he knew why he went through that ugly period
every time he walked out of her life.  He had never quite forgiven her for
saying no years before, and he had no doubt he would get the exact same
answer now.  And there was no way he could ever go back to Bolton.  There was
nothing left for him there, and he had no intention of getting suckered into
taking over the McCall ranch.  He would shoot himself first.

And besides, he liked what he was doing--heading down the road, hitting all
the rodeos, running the business.  It was a damned successful business that
he and Ernie had built, and it was getting bigger every year.

Yeah, he liked his wandering ways, and he would be the first to admit that he
had the road in his blood.  But he had Devon Manyfeathers in his blood even
worse, and knowing that she was on the road behind him, heading in the
opposite direction, left a hole in his gut that a tank could drive through.
Anger started to build in him, and he welcomed it.  Nurtured it.  Wanted it.

But then he remembered all the feelings he'd been hit with when she told him
not to bother with any protection.  He'd garnered a hell of a reputation
years ago, and it had tended to stick with him.  ~Crranted, that kind of
Russian roulette had never been his style, but she didn't know that.  Yet in
spite of all the water that had gone under the bridge between them, she still
had that basic trust in him.  Maybe that was one reason he'd never gone
without protection with any other woman--because he wanted to make damned
sure he would never bring anything back to her.  Maybe that was the

~ason.  Maybe not.  But one thing he kl~w, she was the only one he'd ever got
completely naked with, and when he slipped inside her with no barriers
between them, like he had last night, there was no purer sensation, nothing
that could ever equal it.  And he could feel her around him now, the heavy
pull of her-spasms as Chase swore and slammed his elbow hard against the
door, using the numbing pain to block out the memory of those heavy, thick
and darkly erotic sensations, using anger as a mental block.  He would have
saved himself one bell of a pile of aggravation if he'd just stock with the
bottle of Jack Daniel's and the dingy motel room.  Now he was going ~o have
to go looking for a domned good fight.

February

Bolton, Alberta

Chapter3

The fresh fall of snow covered the landscape, the stalks of dead range grass
perforating the blanket of whiteness like golden quills.  Hoarfrost glistened
and sparkled in the bright sunlight, the long, thick crystals coating the
bare branches of the shrubs and trees and sparkling like tinsel on the wire
fences.  The valley, bounded by the steep-cut banks of the Highwood River on
one side and the razor-backed ridges of the Porcupine Hills on the other,
opened up to a spectacular view of the Rocky Mountains to the west.  Gray and
imposing, their rugged peaks and crevices capped with snow, the jagged
granite sentinels pierced the bright blue sky, the coniferous forests
huddling around their bases like thick skirts.

Silver Valley was probably one of the prettiest places on earth, as far as
Chase was concerned.  And he'd been to a few.  It was west of Bolton, where
the rolling grassland was carved by deep gullies and dotted with copses of
evergreens and aspen.  It was so damned beautiful, and with the hoar frost
and fresh snow it looked like a Christmas 6and.  He took a deep breath and
felt something in his gut let go.

The hundred-percent UV screen in his sunglasses did little to filter out the
brightness of sunlight refracted from the hoar frost crystals, and he
squinted slightly as he reached for the thermal coffee mug on the dash.  At
least the roads were decent, in spite of the heavy frost.  Hauling a horse
trailer on icy roads wasn't his idea of a good time, especially when some of
the horses weren't his.

The road made a sweeping curve over a rise, and before him lay a piece of
flat land, the cut banks along the southern boundary giving it a plateau
effect.  Beyond the trees, ranch buildings came into view, and sunlight
glinted off a huge corrugated steel arena.  His expression sobering, Chase
braced his elbow on the window ledge and absently rubbed his thumb against
his mouth, thinking about the last time he'd been here.

Nearing the approach to the long lane, he signaled for a left turn and slowed
to a crawl, checking the side mirror as the big six-horse trailer tracked
into the turn, the whole outfit rocking as it slid into a rut; he could feel
the horses in the back shift.  He kept his speed to a crawl as he drove
across the cattle guard, and he checked the side-view mirror again.  Once
clear, he accelerated s 'hghtiy, the bright sunlight bouncing off the snow
and making the silver lettering on the midnight blue sign shimmer.

His mood reflective, he absently rubbed his thumb across his mouth again, his
gut tightening.  He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing here.  Crranted,
he'd brought up three horses that Tanner had purchased when he was in Denver
six weeks ago--but that didn't explain why he'd brought three of his own, as
well.  Nor did he know why he'd had Tanner make the arrangements for his
animals instead of calling Sam himself.  And he didn't know why his gut was
suddenly in knots, or why he felt as if he was a hair away from disaster.
All he knew was that for the last four and a half months, he'd harlan itch
that just wouldn't go away.  Every

2 hat ~o~ne fJla l~eltng time he went to sleep, he saw Devon the way she'd
looked that last morning in Wyoming, when he rolled out of her life one more
time.  He knew he'd hurt her, but he hadn't known what to do about it then,
and he sure as hell didn't know what to do about it now.

But in spite of knowing all that, he'd still cleared the deck so he could
spend at least a couple of weeks here.  He allowed him~ If a wry grin.  And
he also knew that if he didn't lay his eyes on her pretty damned quick, he
was going to break out in a cold sweat.

He parked the rig in front of the big metal arena, then tossed his sunglasses
on the dash.  Settling his hat on his head, he grabbed his fleece-lined vest
and got out of the truck, shrugging into the vest after he slammed the door.
Two border collies came around 'the back of the truck, and he reached down
and scratched their necks, grinning when one crouched at his feet, obviously
hoping for a little action.

He straightened, sliding his hands into the pockets of the vest, looking
around for changes.  Various outbuildings and a long, low barn were situated
a hundred yards below the arena, the space in between blocked into paddocks.
Beyond that was the big house where Sam and Marj lived, along with more
paddoclcs and pastureland.  The little cedar house where Devon lived was
north of the arena, tuclaxl in a natural stand of spruce and aspen.  Nothing
much had changed, except that the trees were bigger and some of the
corral-fencing was new.  Thinking about how some things-remain the same, he
headed for the side door into the arena.

Once inside, he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior, the
fiberglass panels along the arch of the roof letting in a faint tinted light.
Only the center row of mercury vapor lights high above the arena area was
on, and Chase grinned.  Knowing Sam, he was surprised they were onat all.

Box stalls had been built all along one side of the structure, with a
concrete alleyway between them and the actual arena.  His hands in his
pockets, he sauntered down the shed row, watching the two ridea~ who were
working a small herd of cows inside the four-foot-high cambered plank wall.
Re-alining he wasn't all that viaible in the dim light, he rested his arms on
the arena wall and watched a buckskin gelding perform, the horse's movements
quick, sharp and highly tuned as he prevented the wheeling, running steer
from returning to the herd.  A good cutting horse was poetry in action as far
as Chase was concerned, with the horse and rider as synchronized as man and
animal could ever get.  The horse's athletic ability had to be top caliber
for it to work, and the animal had to have cow sense.  When it really came
together, it was show-stopping.  And it made his pulse speed up every time he
watched Devon put a horse through its paces.

But it wasn't just the highly trained, athletic abili~ of the horse that he
appreciated.  It was the woman's stillness, her grace, her oneness with her
mount that made his pulse hit overdrive.  She was something to see on a
horse, especially one working like this one was.  It was almost as though she
were an extension of the gelding, her hands motionless, the hard, fast,
twisting action of the horse barely shifting her in her seat.  The lady could
stick to a horse like lint, that was for damned sure.  He allowed him.  ~elf
a small smile.  And she looked mighty fine while she was doing it.  He could
see why she'd built the reputation she had over the past few year~.

She worked the horse another fifteen minutes, then dis-m6unted, handing the
reins to another young woman, then taking the reins of the horse the other
rider had been warming up.  She was just about to mount when Chase stepped
out of the shadows and started toward her.

He knew the instant she saw him.  She froze, a whole host of expressions
crossing her face, but when he saw her close her eyes and drag ina deep
breath, he realized she'd never expected to see him there.  What he wanted to
do was vault the wall, grab her and give her a damned good shake, but instead
he kept his hands in his pockets and gave her a warped grin.  He could see
her pull herself together; it took some effort, but she gave him a lopsided
smile, "Well, look what slid into town.  What happened, Slick?  Did you just
make a wrong turn, or are you here on purpose?"

It was all he could do to keep his hands in his pockets, but he knew that
there would be at least two or three stable hands drifting around, and for
what he had in minds he didn't want an audience.  He held her gaze and
grinned at her.  "Watch it, Manyfeathers.  I've got six horses out there that
are going to pay your wages for the next month.  So I'd keep a civil tongue
in my head if I were you."

Her smile became more real.  "I'm always civil, McCall.,

Resting his forearms on top of the wall, he stared at her.  She had on blue
jeans and tan suede shotgun chaps, and probably had long johns under that, He
could see at least the tip of her white insulating underwear, two insulating
mountain sweaters--one red, one purple--and a fleece-lined stone-washed jean
jacket.  Her deerskin gloves were darkened with age and use, and she had her
hair stuffed under anavy blue corduroy ball cap with the Blue Jays logo on
it.  She had sawdust in her hair and a big smudge of dirt on her cheek, and
by rights she should have looked like a bag lady.  But not Devon.  She looked
like she had just walked out of some fashion magazine.  He remembered how she
was always cold in the mornings.  And those long legs in tight chaps were
'enough to make a man forget his good intentions about keeping his hands to
himself.

He raised his gaze and found her watching him give her the once-over, a look
of mild rebuke in her eyes.

He gave her a lopsided grin and spoke, keeping his voice low.  "Hell, Slash.
You can't blame a man for looking."

She shook her head, a glimmer of dry amusement appearing.  "You'd better take
a deep breath, McCall.  I think your brain took a trip south."

His grin deepened, and he decided it would be a good idea if he changed the
subject.  "So what do you want me to do with all this horseflesh?  Unload it
in your kitchen?"

She called to a young man, who came out of one of the box stalls, then gave
him instructions for the horses ~before glancing at Chase as she swung into
the saddle.  "If you feel like doing a lit He turn back when you get them
unloaded, come on back.  I'll be working cutters all afternoon."

Holding her gaze, Chase nodded, something in her face registering with a cold
twist.  He saw the smile, but he also saw that she was trying very hard not
to let him see how shaken she was by his arrival.  Realizing that he hadn't
done her any favors by showing up here, he gave her a terse nod, then closed
down him expression.  Giving him one last uncertain glance, she reined the
horse around and headed toward the herd.  Clenching his teeth in self,
disgust, Chas~ turned.  Just what in hell was he trying to prove, anyway't
That he could still hurt her?  That he was never really going to forgive her
for a decision she'd made when she was eighteen years old?  Or was he just
trying to prove what a real bastard he was?  He should never have looked her
up in Wyoming, and he should never have come here.  Sometime he was going to
have to quit turning up in her life like a bad case of flu.  Ignoring the
rider moving into the herd, he headed toward the door, swearing to God he
wasn't going to y~nk her around ever again.

He helped Luke, the kid she had given the orders to, get his stock settled
in.  He turned them out in one of the paddocks so they could get rid of the
kinks from a long trailer haul, then he found Sam and spent an hour shooting
the breeze with him.  During the walk from the arena to the lower barn, he'd
made up his mind that he was going to back off and quit crowding her.  Maybe
it was time to let the dust finally settle.

Determined to give her some space and hop' rag he had his head together
enough to handle it, he returned to the arena when Sam left for town,
deciding he would take her up on her offer of a little riding.  It was the
kind of thing they would have done years ago--before they'd screwed up their
friendship.

As soon as she saw him, she got off the horse she was working, handing the
t~ns over to Luke as she gave him a few instructions.  She had ~ken off her
coat, and she had arena dust all down one side.  Chase grinned at her.  "What
happened to you?  Some old bronc-dump you?"

She gave him as harp censuring look as she came through the gate.  "Some old
bronc?  It was that little bay filly you brought up--took real exception to
the new blanket we tried to put on her."  She pulled off her gloves and
motioned to a box stall farther down.  "Come here.  I want to show you
something."

He followed her into the dusky box stall, pulling the half door shut behind
him.  Talking softly to the little filly, she ran her hand down the animal's
rump, then crouched.  "Look here."

He crouched beside her as Devon indicated an asty swelling on the horse's
stifle.  "It looks like she got kicked, but it's really hot.  Like there's
some fluid building up in the muscle.  We could try hosing it down, but I
think we should call the vet ."

Chase frowned, shaking his head.  "I'll be dan reed I never noticed it when I
loaded her, but that doesn't mean anything~ It wouldn't be that easy to spot
if you weren't looking for it.  Or unless you were trying to get a blanket on
her."  He glanced at her.  "Yeah.  By all means, call the vet."

Devon rose, stroking the horse's back, something almost wary in her movements.

Giving her a long, assessing look, Chase stood up, noticing that she was
looking everywhere but at him, and he experienced a hefty shot of guilty
conscience.  Determined to get their friendship on track, he caught her by
the back of the neck and gave her a friendly little shake.  "Hell,
Many-feathers.  You mean you got taken down by ths little filly?  She hasn't
got an ounce of mean in her."

Expecting some sort of smart comeback, Chase was caught completely off guard
when Devon rested her arm on the horse's withers and covered her eyes with
one hand.  It was only then that he saw how badly her hand was shaking.

Calling himself every name in the book, he stared at the ceiling, trying to
ignore the tight feeling in his chest.  Why in hell had he come here?  He
heard her take a ragged breath--a breath that sounded too much like a sob for
him to ignore, and with his resolve evaporating like smoke, he caught her
wrist and turned her into his arms.  Stripping the Blue Jays ball cap off her
head and tossing it in the comer, he gathered her up in a fierce embrace.
"Ah, Dev," he whispered gruffly.  "Don't, da ding I should have known better
than to come here."

Drawing a tremulous breath, she slid her arms under his open jacket and
around his back.  "Don't get a big head, McCall," she whispered, her face wet
against his neck, her voice breaking.  "It was your horse that tried to run me

OVer.  "

Tucking her head tighter ag~in.  ~t him, he savored the silky disorder of her
hair, a flicker of amusement surfacing.  "I see.  The famous horse trainer is
all upset because one little filly dumped her."  Sweeping her hair back, he
cupped the side of her face and brushed a light kiss against her cheek.
"Tell you what--just to even things up, I'll take her out and shoot her."

He got an unsteady laugh, and he hugged her fighter.  Devon's voice was a
little stronger when she responded.  "That's right, McCall.  Take it to the
extreme."

He waited until he felt her begin to relax; then he eased his hold and lifted
her face so he could see her eyes, his expression sobering.  "Now that we've
settled that," he said, his voice gentle, "why don't you tell me what this is
really all about?"

Her black lashes matted, her mouth not quite steady, she looked at him, her
eyes so dilated there was hardly any color.  She stared at him a moment, then
spoke, her v husky.  "Are you leaving right away?"

He debated about lying to her, but he couldn't quit~ that to Devon.  In spite
of all that had happened betw them, and even knowing that nothing could ever
com~ this, he gave her a small smile.  "No.  I was going to s around for a
while."

 "For how long?"   "Two or three weeks."

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against his j and he could feel her
start to tremble all over again.  "WI are you staying?"

,4h, hell, he thought.  Catching a handful of hair, tugged her head back, his
expression dead sober as looked square into her eyes.  "Where do you want me
stay?"

He knew that was going to be hard for her to answer.  1 because she would
evade the truth, but because Devon!  spent most of her life believing she
didn't deserve anythJ She didn't know how to ask for something she wanted.
~.  it was at a time like this, when he put her on the spot, t her
uncertainty showed.

She held his gaze for a moment, then wiped a smudge his face, her voice
unsteady.  "I have space for a roomm~ if you want."

Realizing that she was really struggling, he pulled her i~ a fight embrace
and rested his head against hers.  Not s what they were getting tbem~lves
into, or how they wo~ come out of it, he let his breath go.  "Yeah," he
answer, his voice rough.  "I want."

He felt her catch an uneven breath, and he tightened hold, "experiencing a
sudden thickness in his chest.  Wait for the contraction to ease, he slid his
hand under her h~ molding the collar of her sweater around her neck, tl
spoke, allowing a trace of amusement into his voice.  " W better back out of
here, Slash.  As I recall," the last time got caught in a box stall, I ended
up unloading about three hundred bales of hay for Sam."

She gave an unsteady laugh and stuck her hands in the back pockets of his
jeans.  "Caution from Chase McCall?  I don't believe it."

He grinned and pulled her closer.  This didn't feel a whole hell of a lot
like caution.

They didn't finish chores until after five.  It was starting to get dark when
they walked up to Devon's house, the evening sky shot with shades of pinks
and grays and blues, the snow-covered landscape tinged with pink from the
setting sun.  The snow squeaked beneath their feet, and their breath rose in
white vapor, the cold air sharp and invigorating.  This had always been
Chase's favorite time of day, that last hour of daylight before it got dark,
and he draped his arm around Devon's shoulders, their strides synchronized.
That was another thing he liked about her--the way their strides matched.
And he I'd~ed her s'dences.  He could remember times when they were kids,
when they wouldn't speak to one another for hours.  Holding her against him,
he opened the back door, kicking the snow off his boots before he entered.
He could tell she was tired.  Without saying anything, he took her coat when
she peeled it off, then hung it and his own on the hooks along one wall of
the big back hall.

She kicked off the hiking boots she'd put on to do evening chores and
s'dently climbed the three stairs leading to the kitchen.  Using the
bootjack, he peeled off his own boots, then followed her in, knowing exactly
where she was headed.

She'd stripped off her two sweaters and was already sprawled facedown on the
sofa in the living room.  She looked like a rag doll.  He stood at the
archway rolling up his sleeves, smiling at her predictability.  She was like
a slug first thing in the morning, and she had a power crash every night when
she came in.  Finished with his sleeves, he folded his arms and checked out
the living room.  He'd always liked this little house.  It was all cedar,
inside and out, and had a very basic design--a, decent-size kitchen, the
living room, two bedrooms and a bath.  That was it.  But it always seemed so
snug, somehow, especially with a fire in the fireplace.  And the view was
without price.  The house was set at an angle, and the front room faced
southwest, with a view of the mountains that was phenomenal.

He assessed the changes s'nice his last visit.  She'd bought' all new
furniture since he'd been there.  But then, that had been a couple of years
ago.  He eyed the black leather sofas.  Thank God she hadn't gone 'for any of
that awful flowered crap he hated.

The bedrooms and bathroom were directly behind the kitchen and living room,
and he went down the stubby hallway and into the bathroom.  When he came out,
he checked out her bedroom.  The old double bed was gone replaced by a new
queen-s'~e.  As unbelievable as it seemed now, though they hadn't made love
when he'd spent that month with her years~ ago they had slept together.  He
had kind of liked that old bed, in spite of the fact that it used to collapse
without warning, most often in the mid die of the night when they were both
sound asleep.  The first time it happened, he'd come off the floor like he'd
been shot out of a rocket, and she'd ended up on her knees, tears in her eyes
from laughing.  He'd thought they would never get that wreck back together,
but then, it wouldn't have taken them so long if she hadn't started laughing
all over again every time she looked at him.

She was still fiat on her face when he entered the living room, and he
watched her for a minute.  He wouldn't want to bet the farm on it, but he
thought she was asleep, or damned close to it.  He went out to the kitchen
and opened the fridge, not quite snrewhat he would find.  Devon's idea of
cooking was to make a pot of stew, or cheese and macaroni, and she could
build the best sandwiches he'd ever tasted.  But as a cook, forget it.
Still, she did keep a decent fridge.  Which was good, because he'd gotten
used to eating like a real person the last few years.

Whistling softly to himself, he assembled everything he needed for Mexican
omelets and set to work When supper was ready he carried two plates and two
mugs of coffee into the living room and set them on the coffee table, then
reached over and turned on a light.

She had her head turned toward him, her hair falling all over her face.  He
sat on the coffee table and watched her, his forearms across his thighs, his
hands inches away from all that damned hair.  There wasn't even a trace of
motion in her closed eyes.

"I'm dreaming, aren't IT' she asked, not moving a muscle.  " That's not real
food I smell, is it?  "

He grinned and hooked his thumb under the thick fan of her hair, collected it
up and dragged it off her face.  "You must be running on empty."

"Shut up, McCall."  She opened her eyes and stared at him; then gave him a
drowsy grin.  "So, Betty Crocker, what have you whipped up for us tonight?"

He chuckled and stroked her cheek "I've got a hot Mexican omelet that is
guaranteed to rev your engines.  I've got fried ham and hash browns.  And
I've got fresh brewed coffee."

Her eyes were still heavy with sleep.  "Are you going to feed me?"

He grinned at her.  "With your face stuck to the sofa?  Of course I'm not
going to feed you."  He handed her a plate.  "Up and at 'em, or I'll eat it
myself."

With obvious reluctance, she slowly dragged herself into a sitting position,
then yawned.  She gave a little shiver, then looked from her plate to his.
"How come yours is bigger than mine?"

He twisted around so she couldn't get at his food.  "Because I made it, while
you, on the other hand, did noth " I bought the groceries.  "

Hegave her a resigned sigh, took her plate and gave her his.  "There.
Satisfied?"

Her eyes alight, she leaned over and gave him a soft kiss.  "Why don't we
just dump everything back in the frying pan, and we'll both eat out of that?"

"What's your problem?  Do you want both of them?  Is that it?"

She leaned back and looked into his eyes, a sparkle of mischief in hers.
"No.  I just wanted to see if I could get you going."

Satisfied that she had, she settled on the sofa, drawing up her feet so she
was sitting cross-legged; then she flipped her hair over her shoulder and dug
into her supper.  Sometimes he felt li~ stmoglin~ her.  And sometimes he
wanted to grab on to her and never let go.  He managed a lopsided smile
instead.  "Did anyone ever tell you that you're a pain in the butt?"

She just smiled and chewed a mouthful of omelet, then closed her eyes in
reverent appreciation.  "Mmrn, McCall.  This is heaven."

He watched her savor her food for a moment, then started on his own, not sure
if he was going to be able to swallow.  He missed that--that little piece of
cheekiness in her.  She didn't do that anywhere else but here.  It was as if
this was the only place she felt secure enough to let that childlike part of
herself out.  It made him realize just what he'd asked of her so many years
ago.

"What's the matter?"  she asked softly.

Shoving aside the tight feeling in his chest, he looked up and gave her a
half grin.  "I was just thinking that this omelet could use a little more
salsa."

"McCall," she said, her tone emphatic, "this omelet could strip varnish."

He held her gaze for a moment, then shook his head in a~use~ent and went back
to his meal.  She was something else.  They finished the rest of their supper
in silence, and when he was done, Chase took his empty plate and hers to the
kitchen and refilled their mugs.  V~aen he returned, he set both cups on the
end table beside the sofa, then sat.  Bracing his back against the arm, he
propped his feet on the coffee table.  He stretched his arm out' toward her.
"Come here," he said, his tone low and a little gruff.  She hesitated a
moment, then untangled her long legs and came toward him.  He lifted her onto
his lap, then slipped his arm around her and snuggled down with her.  He
handed her a mug of coffee, and she sighed and looked at him.  "I should go
have a shower."

He settled deeper in the sofa, taking her with him.  He knew that he had
maybe fifties minutes before she would start to wake up, and he knew exactly
what was go rag to happen when she did.  And he wanted to just be able to
hold her for a little while,~ to let that old familiar feeling fold in around
them.

"Nab," he said softly, reaching back to hit the wall switch that would shut
off the lamp.  "Let's just sit here and watch the stars come out."

She didn't say anything.  She twisted around and set her coffee on the end
table, then snuggled down and slipped her arm around his back, resting her
head on his shoulder.  Her breath was warm against his neck, and he clenched
his jaw and closed his eyes, ~the sensation setting off one hell of a ruckus
inside him.  Abruptly set ling his coffee beside hers, he closed his eyes and
tightened his arms around her.  No matter where they were, holding her'
always felt like~ home

It was later that night that Chase lay in bed with Devon asleep in his arms,
listening to the coyotes howl in the distance.  Her bedroom had one long
window that went nearly to the floor, and he stared out it, the moonlight so
bright that it made eerie shadows in the trees.  He absently fondled her
hair, thinking it would have been a perfect night for a ride--or for watching
the stars.  But they had made long, leisurely love instead, and then had
watched the stars in the black night sky before she'd fallen asleep.  He
smiled.  At least he assumed she was asleep.  She hadn't said anytl for the
past half hour.

Shifting his head, he gazed at her, liking the feeling of head on his
shoulder, of her arm tucked around his eh Her face was turned toward his, and
he smoothed his th~ along her temple, then tucked his chin and brushed a
against her mouth, smiling a lit He when her lips parted.

He watched her a moment, then folded his arm undez head, lightly rubbing her
arm, thinking about how tiff were with them.  But he didn't kid himself,
either.  never once tracked him down, never once phoned hire sent h/m a
letter, had never dropped in at his spread/n or ado In fact, that had hurt
pretty bad, when he found from Tanner that she'd been down to a horse show
and been within sixty miles of his place and hadn't stopped.  then, she'd
never gone with him, even for a couple of d after he hit the rodeo c/rcuit.
It was as if she was scaro what would happen if she ever did.

He changed his mind.  They weren't 1/kc two trains at It was as if they had
suffered some kind of weird fate/~ cosmos and they each had their own
orbit--but every in a while, those separate orbits would bring them to get
and for a brief time they could share each other's light.  they would both
move on.  He somet/mea wondered wha life would have been like if she'd never
moved to Bot The thought disturbed him more than he li keri.  Justing that
she was living and breathing somewhere had him going more than once, and he
could not imagine hi,.  without her somewhere in it.  He did not want to
think it would be like if he knew he would never see her again~

H/s throat got thick, and he closed his eyes, cradlint tighter against him.
He wasn't going to think about it.  tonight.  Not while he had her safe in
his arms.

Chapter 4

Cl~ase found out his first morning there that Sam and Devon had been running
a man short since Christmas, and Devon didn't hesitate to put him to work.
What she needed most, she told him, was an experienced rider who knew what he
was doing with young horses.  And they didn't come much more experienced than
Chase.  So he spent most of his time in the arena with her and Sam, working
with the two-and three-year-olds that were there for training.  By the fourth
morning, he had muscles--damned sore muscles--that he hadn't even known
existed before.  Devon thought it was a big joke, especially when he groaned
as he got out of bed, and all he got from her was a pat on the cheek and a
"poor baby" in passing.  It served him right.  He'd been a cocky SOB,
thinking he was in pretty good shape--but after five or six hours in the
saddle three days in a row, he was bloody well finding out differently.

Chase glanced down the shed row, where four horses stood saddled.  He and
Devon had groomed and saddled all the horses they would be riding that
morning, and then had tied some in their stalls until they were ready for
them.  Adjusting the saddle on the back of the horse he would be riding, he
hooked the stirrup over the saddle horn, a small smile playing around the
comer of his mouth.  He was just damned glad she hadn't made him clean out
stalls.  Anne and Luke and old Jimmy, the barn boss, had been at it for two
hours, and they still weren't done.  He would have been flat on his face in
no time.  The smile deepened.  No wonder Devon had the muscles she did--and
could eat like a stevedore and never gain any weight.  He tightened the
cinch, then dropped the stirrup and ran his hand down the horse's neck.  It
was a three-year-old colt that had more cow sense than good manners, and the
horse and Devon had got into a battle of wills two days earlier.  It had.
been something to watch, and Chase was only beginning to realize just how
good she was.  All the clinics she was asked to give and the full stalls in
the arena and lower barn attested to that.  She had built something for
herself here.  Something she could take a whole lot of pride in--and her
pride was something that had taken a hell of a battering when she'd been a
kid, when her mother spent more time drunk than sober, and all they had to
live on was welfare checks.  Yeah, she'd built something worthwhile here,
something that had given her back her pride.

"Just stalling, McCall, or are you going to need some help getting into the
saddle this morning"

Ducking under the horse's neck, he undid the halter shank, then looked up at
her.  She was on the other side of the boards, mounted on a pretty lit He
Arab filly that the owners' daughter showed in a Western pleasure class.  Now
that horse had good manners.  He tested his arm on the wall and grinned at
her.  "That kind of sass isn't going to get your supper cooked for you," he
commented, not the least bit hesitant about stooping to blackmail.  "So I'd
be a tad less cocky if I were you."

Sam's voice interrupted from down the alleyway.  "Now there's a ease of the
pot calling the kettle black.  I sorta figured you wrote the book on cocky,
son."  They both turned and watched the older man hurrying toward them in the
half-hitch gait of his.  Chase knew that Sam had broken his hip three or four
years ago, and he could see from the way the trainer walked that it was
giving him considerable trouble this morning.  Chase looked at him from
beneath the brim of his hat, allowing himself a wry grin.  "Hell, Sam, she
doesn't need anyone to help her fight her battles for her anymore.  She does
just fine on her own."

Sam chuckled and tipped his head in agreement.  "Well, you got me there, boy.
Most of the t/me, she just ignores me when I try to tell her anything."

He stopped directly in front of Chase, his worn mackinaw coat held together
by mismatched buttons' and one safety pin, the fleece collar nearly worn
bare.  He was shorter than Chase and only a lit He taller than Devon, with a
barrel chest and ruddy complexion.  He'd been in the business a long
time--and, in Chase's opinion, was one of the best.

Sam pulled a red polka-dot hanky out of his back pocket and wiped his red
nose, then stuffed it away.  He looked up at Chase.  "I was wondering if I
could get you to give me a hand."

Chase nodded.  "Sure.  Shoot."

"Well, we just had a load of bales roll in here a day early, and Jimmy's
goths haul Jake Samsoffs horse back to him, and I goths take Marj to town for
a doctor's appointment.  Devon's going to need Anne in here, so that just
leaves Luke, and we're probably looking at three hundred bales."

Chase shared at the older man, humor pulling at his mouth, thinking that
maybe, just maybe, he had this coming.  He heard a muffled sound beside him
and looked at Devon, who had her hand plastered to her face, her shoulders
shaking.  He'd never known anyone who could laugh so hard without making a
sound.  "You're going to pay for this, Manyfeathers, and don't think you
aren't."  He straightened and turned with the horse.  "Just let me He ths one
back in him stall, and I'll be right out."

Sam nodded and fell into step with him, a twinkle a pea ring in his eyes.
"As I recollect, it seems to me that y, unloaded bales for me once before."

Chase cast Devon a damning look and cocked his fin~ at her.  She blew him a
kiss, then wiped the tears off her fm "Yeah," he responded dryly.  "Three
hundred."

By the time they finished unloading and shacking' bales, Chase found out
exactly just how out of shape was.  It wasn't three hundred bales, it was
only two hi dred, but they had to weigh eighty pounds each, and I~ had the
easy job of stacking them.  Chase felt like h, ripped his shoulders right out
of their sockets.  But oti than that, he felt pretty domned good.  Clean
fresh air, 1 smell of clover and sweet hay, working up a good swe finding out
Luke was okay.  They covered the stack witl tarp, and Luke went to the lower
barn to finish doing st~ while Chase went into the arena.  Devon was standing
in 1 middle of the arena, watching Anne work a horse.  Cyr ning, Chase
approached the gate and took off his glov tucking them behind an electrical
conduit.  ~ She turned face him when he stepped through the gate, laughter st
demy sparkling in her eyes.  Narrowing his eyes at her, stripped off his
jacket and dropped it, then sailed his ~ toward the stalls.  He shook out his
arms, f~ing her wit predatory smirk.  "You're on your own, Manyfeath~ Sam's
not here to pull your butt out of a sling, and yo~ going to pay for all that
sass."

She started to laugh and back away.  "Cut it out, Chz You'll spook the
horses."

"I'm not going to spook the horses," he said, com after her.  "But I am going
to dump you in the sawdust k and I'm going to love every minute of it."

"No, you aren't."

He grinned and stared to circle her.  "Yeah, I am."  knew damn well how much
she hated getting sawdust her.  They used a mix of it and shavings as bedding
in stalh" and as good as it was for that, it was a royal pah you got it in
your clothes and in your hair.  Especially long, black hair.

He leered at her.  "You're going down, Manyfeathers.  And you're going down
big time."

She put up her hand, trying a new tack.  "Come on, Chase," she pleaded
laughingly.  "Don't.  You know how I hate it."

"Down, lady.  Down."

Realizing that he was backing her into a corner, she changed her tactics
again and started taking off her own coat.  Chase's grin broadened.  He knew
she wouldn't go down without a fight, and she would probably get in a few
good licks in the process.  But she was going headfirst into the sawdust or
he was going to die trying.  She balanced her weight like a wrestler and
began circling away from him.  He wanted to laugh.  She knew damn well he
wasn't going to fight fair.  But then, she didn't fight fair, either.  He
expected her to go to the tight.  She went left and landed a solid tackle,
dumping him in the mix of dirt and shavings on the arena floor.  He managed
to catch her leg, and he brought her down, then yanked off her hat.  It took
him a while, and she did put up one hell of a scrap, but after three or four
aborted attempts, he finally managed to hoist her over his shoulder.

She was laughing and out of breath, but she was still trying to break loose
as he carted her across the arena, his legs feeling a little shaky.

"Chase, damn it!  Put me down."  She tried to push away from his back, but he
knew she couldn't see a thing for her hair.  She tried to kick free, but he
simply tightened his hold on her legs, giving her backside a smart smack.
"Gotcha, Der.  Fair and square."

"Please, Chase," she pleaded, her voice breaking from laughter and exertion.
"Come on"

"Well, well, well, isn't this cozy?  What happened, Chase?  Did you forget
the telephone number?"

DevOn ceased her struggles, and Chase turned, steadying her as she slid down
his chest.  Securing her again.  ~t him with an arm around her waist, he
faced his brother, his expression hardening.  He had hoped he could avoid the
usual family scene.  Exhaling a sigh of exasperation, he spoke, his voice
devoid of any welcome.  "Hero, Milt.  Isn't this a lit-He far out of your way
for a social call?"

Milton McCall stared across the space at him, the collar of his pricey
overcoat turned up, bitterness etched into his face.  There had been bad
blood between them for a long time--ever since Chase had taken off and left
him to deal with the old man alone, ever since Milt had made the mistake of
repeating his old man's words about Devon being a half-breed whore.  Chase
had slammed his brother's face into a wall for saying it, and he felt like
slamming his face into a wall again now.  He had nothing to say to his
younger brother, but he knew Milt hada lot to say to him.

And in that respect, Chase couldn't really blame him.  Milton had spent the
last fifteen years busting a gut trying to get their old man's approval.  It
had almost become a disease with him, an obsession, arid he resented Chase
because he'.  d been able to say to hell with it and walk away.  It was like
when they were little and Milt would do everything to try to get some
attention from his father--but their old man didn't operate that way.  Bruce
McCall didn't give his kids his attention, He withheld it.  It was all part
of maintaining control.

Milton stared at him, his face rigid, then swung his gaze to Devon.  Chase
felt her stiffen, and anger unfolded in him.  He spoke, his tone abrupt.
"What do you want, Milt?"

His brother turned his attention back to him, a look of distaste on his face.
"Is there anywhere we can talk?"

Chase stared at him, the muscles in his face taut.  He motioned to the door.
"There are about two hundred acres outside that door.  Take your pick."
Turning so he blocked his brother's view of Devon, he dredged up a warped
smile, then wiped a giob of sawdust off her cheek.  "This shouldn't take
long.  We don't have a history of long, friendly conversations."

She looked at him, worry darkening her eyes.  "Chase, don't"

He gave her another warped smile and pressed his finger to her mouth.  "Shh.
This is old garbage, darling'.  And we're going to have to deal with it
sooner or later."

She stared at him a moment, then finally managed a fight smile and nodded.
Tipping her face up, he gave her a quick kiss, then turned and s~ across the
arena toward his brother.  He paused to sweep up his jacket, slapping it
against his legs before putting it on.  When he reached the gate, he pulled
his gloves from behind the conduit, then si-lenfiy took his hat when Milt
handed it to him.  Without glancing her way, he followed his brother outside
into the bright cold sunlight.

Milt indicated the Mercedes parked in front of the arena.  "We may as well
sit in there, where we'll he comfortable."

Chase shoved his gloves in his pockets and looked at his brother.  "I'm not
looking for comfort.  I'm looking for short and to the point.  So spit it
out.  You came out here for a reason, and it wasn't just to' see ff I was
here or not."

Milton turned to face him, a dull red climbing up his face.  "I think the
least you could have done was let us know you were here."

"So I've got bad manners.  Sue me."

Milton swore and turned away, then turned back.  Okay.  Forget consideration.
Somewhere along the line, we have to decide what we're going to do about the
ranch.  "

Chase narrowed his eyes and stared at the horizon, ~ry-ing to corral his
anger.  Damn it, when were they going to get the message?  He shifted his
head and looked at his brother, his expression fixed.  "I don't g/ve a
tinker's damn what happens to the ranch.  I don't want it.  I never did, and
even if I did, you wouldn't get me on that place with a knife at my back.
I'm not going to play Dad's damned games any more."

His brother took a step toward him, jabbing at him with his finger.  "Well,
you're going to have to play his games, because he has it in his head that
you're going to come home and take it over.  You're the eldest son.  It's
your respousi- bility."

Chase gave him a twisted smile.  "You're forgetting something here, little
bro.  I'm not the eldest son.  Tanner is.  Now, if the old man wants to turn
it over to him, that's just fine with me."

Milton clenched his fist, and Chase had no doubt his brother wanted to bth-y
it in his face.  "What is it with you and Eden?  Both of you walk out of here
as if it didn't matter a damn, as if you didn't have any responsibility to
the family, and then, to make matters worse, you both align yourself with
him!"

Choosing to ignore the reference to Tanner, Chase folded his arms, a small
smile appearing.  It did his heart good knowing that his sister had finally
walked.  Their old man had tried to run her life, as well.  There had been a
time when he'd thought she was going to knuckle under, but then she'd gone
away to school, and Bruce had lost his influence over her, as well.
Considering his brother, he made his voice a little less harsh when he spoke.
"There you go, Why doesn't he turn the damned ranch over to Eden?  She could
run it as well as anyone."

A look of anger and frustration on his face, Milton shook his head and angfdy
stared off into space.  Finally he looked at Chase, the resentment replaced
by weariness.  "Look.  He hasn't been all that well this winter, and all he
talks about is you coming back to take over.  Couldn't you at least talk to
him?"

"Not a chance.  I can't talk to him, and you know it."  He leveled his finger
at his brother, his expression hardening.  "And if you think he's ever going
to give you any credit for handing your life over to him, you're in for one
hell of a big surprise.  He's never operated that way, and he never will.  He
doesn't want me running the Bar M.  What he wants is me back under his
thumb--where he can call all the shots.  And like I said, I'm not playing his
damned games anymore."

Milton's face reddened, the veins in his temples standing out.  "That's an
easy out, and you bloody well know it.  You just don't want the
responsibility!"

Anger building in him, Chase took a step toward his brother, his face rigid.
"It's not the responsibility I don't want, Milt.  It's his BS.  Look at you.
You don't want to run his damned ranch or manage his auction mart, and you
can't convince me that you get off on his damned political connections.  Yet
Sam tells me there's a rumor going around that you're thinking about running
in the next election.  You aren't thinking about tackling something like that
because you want it, you're doing it because that's what he wants."  He paced
across the path, then turned and jammed his hands in his pockets.  "Look at
yourself, Milt.  For God's sake.  Is this really what you want to be.  doing
for the rest of your life?  It had better be, because you can be damn sure
nothing's going to change.  You want to live your life in his back pocket,
fine.  You do it.  But don't expect me to climb in there with you.  I'm not
going to be his toady for the rest of my life.  I'd rather starve first."

Giving his brother one last furious look, Chase turned and started walking.
Only he didn't turn to the arena.  He headed for the lower barn instead.
There was one rank, hardheaded stallion down there that needed a good hard
workout in an open field--and he was going to give it to him.

Chase deliberately stayed away until he'd cooled down--until he could take a
breath without wanting to lash out at something.  This was one reason he'd
stayed away for so many years.  His old man--hell, his whole family--could
still push him over the edge, and he didn't want to give them that kind of
control ever again.  And it had nothing to do with the kind of mam'pulating
control his parents had over

Milt--it had to do with his own rage, and how his old man could provoke him
into it.  There had been too many times in the past when he'd lo~t it over
something his old man had done or said--a couple of times when he might even
have killed him if there hadn't been someone there to pull him off.  And as
long as his father could goad him into that kind of reaction, Chase didn't
have control, and he knew it.  And he would chop off his arm before he gave
his father that kind of weapon.

By the time he got back to the ranch, he and the stud had pretty much come to
terms with the issue of control.  The bay was giving his head and taking
commands with considerably more attention, and it almost made Chase sxhile
the way be went into the barn without his usual rnckus.  Maybe there was
something to be said for hammering things out.  It would be interesting to
see how much of that lesson the stallion remembered tomorrow.

Dismounting in front of the empty stall, Chase flipped the rems over the
rail.  He stripped off the saddle and put it away, then led the horse into
the big box stall and slid the bridle from his head, smoothing his hand down
the animal's chest to make sure he was completely cooled down.  ~ Lifting the
blanket off the half door, he put it on the bay, his expression turning
thoughtful when he noticed the time.  They would be starting chores in the
arena in another half hour, but he wasn't going up to help.  The last thing
he needed right now was a bunch of people, especially one as chirpy as Anne;
He would do the chores down here by himself instead.

The shadows were long and the clouds were tinged with gold when he finally
went up to the house, the dogs trailing along behind him.  Kicking the snow
off his boots, he entered the back hall~ Devon's coat and boots were there,
and he could hear the shower running.  His expression sober, he stripped off
his outerwear, experiencing a twist of guilt for walking' out on her the way
he had.  She had good reason to expect the worst when any of his family
showed up, and she'd probably spent the afternoon wondering where he'd gone.

He washed in the kitchen sink, then started on supper.  He had the steaks
under the grill and potatoes frying and was in the living room checking out
her CD collection when she finally came out of the bathroom.  Shehad on a
terry robe and a towel wrapped around her head, and he felt like even bigger
heel when he saw the relief in her eyes when saw him.

Tying the belt on the robe, she stared at him, her anxious, "Hi," she said
softly, trying to smile.  '"I maybe I'd have to go looking for you."

He chose a CD and hit play, then went over to her of muted flamenco guitar
drifting out.  Her tucked inside her robe, and how many times she had gone
looking for him when been kids.  She knew him better than anyone, knew how
felt about his old man.  The collar straightened, he gaze, managing a small
smile of his own.  might have to go fishing for you.  I thought you in there.
" " I took so long," she said, her tone poinl~xl,

couldn't get the dirt from the arena out of my hair.  "

He gave her a warped grin.  "Maybe next time think two hundred bales are so
~mny."

She watched him, the anxiousness still in her eyes, ~ started to speak.  He
pressed his thumb then lifted her face and kissed her.  "Supper's ready, he
said quietly.  " Let's leave it until after, all right?  "

She nodded and met his gaze, then to the table in her housecoat and towel,
and for some son that made Chase feel a little less removed.  he couldn't
quite shake the introspective mood he'd all afternoon.  They talked a little
bit about the program for a couple of the horses, but for the most they ate
in silence.  As soon as he finished, he dishes in the s'mk and turned to
leave the kitchen.

She looked at him, concern still darkening her eyes.  Her voice was husky
when she spoke.  "Tanner called this afternoon.  He wanted to know if you
could make it over for supper tomorrow night.  I told him I'd have you call
him back."

Chase aligned two pot holders lying on the counter, then looked at her, his
expression solemn.  "Will you come with me?  '

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

He knew he was leaving her hanging about what 'had happened that afternoon,
but he didn't want to talk about it.  At leagt, not yet.  Knowing he was
being unfair, he reached out and trailed his knuckles along her jaw.  "I'm
going to have a shower, okay?"

She nodded again, and he stared at her for a moment, then turned and left the
room.  He collected clean clot best then headed into the bathroom.  His mood
somber, he undressed and tossed his clothes in the laundry hamper.  He turned
the water on full blast, then stepped in.  He roughly soaped himself, then
closed his eyes and let the water beat down on him, using the stino~ng spray
to ease the tension left over from his brothefts visit.  I[tnothing else,
today had reminded him why-he'd based his operations in Colorado.  It was as
close as he could get to his old man without getting sucked in.  Bracing both
hands on the wall of the shower stall, he bent his head and made himself let
go of the tension, focusing on the hammering spray and the heat.  He had
maybe three weeks here with Der.  Then he was going to have to go back.  And
he wasn't going to waste what little time he had with her on family crap.  It
hadn't been worth it eighteen years ago, and it sure in hell wasn't worth it
now.

The hot water was starting to fade when he finally got out, and the room was
full of steam.  He made a cursory effort to dry himself, then pulled on a
clean pair of jeans, not bothering to do up the snap.  Avoiding his
reflection in the fogged mirror, he reached for the can of shaving foam, his
mood somber.  He sometimes wondered if the BS was ever going to stop~

Devon was in the kitchen when he entered the living room, and she came to the
doorway.  "Finished?"

He nodded and draped the towel around his neck, then turned toward the sound
sysl~m, absently rubbing a drop of water off his bare chest.  He hit the
replay control and set the liniment he was holding on the table, then used
the end of the towel to dry his hair, He rolled his shoulder and smiled
wryly, knowing he was going to wake up tomorrow and be forced to get
acquainted with some more sore muscles, He heard Devon start the dishwasher;
then the kite3 en fight went out, and he turned.  She still had on her robe,
but the towel around her hair was gone, and she had a thick-toothed comb in
her hand.

He went to her and caught her wrist, "Come on," he said quietly.  ~

Tossing a couple of cushions on the floor at his bare feet, he sat down on
the sofa, then pulled her down in front of him.  Settling her back between
his thighs, he reached over and took the comb from her, then adjusted her
head.  Her hair was clean and shiny and slipped like strands of silk through
his hands.  It was so thick it was still damp, and he slowly eased out the
tangles with his fingers.  She drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around
them, and he knew from the way she was sitting that she had her eyes closed.
That was another thing he appreciated about her--she never pushed for
eaplanatious.  She knew that he would talk to her as soon as he had things
sorted out in his own head,

He worked out a thick tangle, then let her hair slide through his fingers.
Finally he spoke, his voice husky.  "Remember the time you shut the end of
your braid in the truck door, and I tried to drive off?"

She gave a soft chuckle and tipped her head back, yielding to the tug of his
fingers through her hair.  "You mean the time you tried to scalp me?"

He ran ~ fingers up the back of her head, massaging her scalp.  HIS voice was
even huskier when he answered.  "Scared the living hell out of me.  I had the
shakes for two weeks, thinking about what would have happened if I'd peeled
out of there the way I usually did."  He also remembered that was the first
time he'd held her--really held her.  Amusement tugged at his mouth.  He
could still remember how it had felt, having her plastered against him.  He'd
been sixteen and nothing but a walking hormone, and he'd thought he'd died
and gone to heaven.

Her hair free of tangles, he started combing it, his mood softened by the
memory.  H6ll, he would likely still be standing out in the mid die of the
street holding her if old Mrs. Brady hadn't come out on her front porch and
taken a strip off him.  Devon had been the best friend he ever had, and he
didn't know what he would do if he ever lost that.  His throat suddenly
thick, he clenched his jaw and dragged the comb through the full length of
her hair.  He waited until the tightuess cased, then spoke.  "I'm sorry about
today, Dev," he said, his voice gruff.  "I shouldn't have taken off the way I
did."

She shifted, hooking her arm around his upper leg, her touch reassuring as
she caressed his calf.  She didn't say anything; she didn't have to.  He knew
she understood, maybe hair into one thick fall.  "Do you want me to braid it?"

Without speaking, she handed him a covered elastic.  He took it and laid it
on his thigh, then tipped her head back and began sectioning her hair,
another flicker of humor working loose.  "What's with the s'dent treatment?
Or is that another one of your Indian tricks?"

She gave a soft, husky laugh.  "What's the matter, Slick?  Can't you handle a
little s'dence?"

"I can handie it," he responded, his tone slightly amused.  "It's my damn
family I can't handle."  His expression shat-ting down, he braided her hair
in a five-strand weave he used in leather work, his thoughts turning inward.
Every once in a while, he would catch himself thinking about what it would be
like to move back here, but all it took was one confrontation ~ today's and
he knew it would never work.

He dragged his attention back, his mood grim.  "What?"

 "You're pulling my hair."

Exhaling sharply, he leaned over and tipped her head back, giving her a soft,
upside-down kiss.  "I'm sorry, babe," he whispered gruffly.  "My mind took a
hike."  Feeling like a heel for a whole lot of reasons, he released her, his
jaw set as he fixed the elastic around her braid.  Who the hell knew?  Maybe
she wouldn't want him hanging around on a permanent basis.

The moment he let go, she turned, rising on her knees.  Her expression
solemn, she caught his face between her hands and stared at him, then she
leaned into him and gave him a soft, comforting kiss.  The feel of her hands
against his face, the absolute comfort in her touch, made his throat cramp
up, and he closed his eyes, experiencing such a surge of emotion that he was
damned near upended by it.  ~Opening his mouth against hers, he ran his hand
up her back,

urging her toward him.  But she didn't yield.  Instead she tightened her hold
on his face and withdrew, then smoothed her hands down his shoulders and
across his chest, her mouth moist and warm as she brushed her lips against
one nipple.  The jolt of sensation made him grit his teeth, and he sucked in
his breath when she touched it with the tip of her tongue.  Gripping her arm,
he opened his eyes and looked down at her, his vision hazed with sensation as
she continued with her slow, soft exploration.

Dragging her mouth lower, she slipped her fingers beneath his waistband and
began easing down his zipper, her touch sending another jolt of sensation
through him.  Bracing him.  ~elf for what was coming, he twisted his head to
one

~ side and straightened his hips to give her access, his face contorting in
an agony of sensation, his whole body going rigid as she gently, slowly,
softly freed him.  Theil she lowered her head, and he clot his eyes and
ground his teeth together, her touch setting off a chain reaction that made
him stiffen and groan.  And with a blinding surge of sensation, he gave
himself up to her moist, questing mouth.  Nothing mattered.  Nothing but her.
Nothing but her.

Chapter5

His thumbs hooked in his belt, Chase sat slouched in the passenger seat, idly
watching the thick, heavy snowflakes plaster themselves against the
windshield, the intermittent swipe of the wipers clearing half circles of
visibility.

He turned and looked at Devon, a flicker of amusemeni lifting the comer of
his mouth as he watched her handle the high-powered truck.  He'd always liked
to watch her drive.  She handled a vehicle with the kind of assurance and
skill that most men couldn't match.  He'd taught her the fine of drag racing
when she'd been fourteen years old, talked her into enrolling in a weekend
training course at the speedway in Calgary the spring she turned seventeen.
She had impressed the hell out of all of them, even a professional drivers
who'd been there.  She had been as cool as ice and as q~,m'?  as a cat, and
he'd been so damned proud of her that he d spent the whole weekend puffed up
like a peacock.  That had been the second year he'd been on the rodeo circuit.

Bracing his foot against the door ledge, he shifted his shoulders, then slid
his hand down her thigh.  She gave him a drilling look--the one she used when
she was warning him to behave.  He gave her leg a squeeze and grinned at her.
"Do you want to pull over and check out this side of the truck?"

She shot him a slightly amused look.  "No, I don't want to pull over.  I told
Kate we'd be there by six, and we're going to be there by six."

Resting his head against the back of the seat, he studied her profile.  "So,
have you seen this new niece of mine?"

She shook her head.  "No.  Tanher's brought the boys over for their riding
lessons the last couple of weeks.  He said that Kate didn't walls to take the
baby out when it was so cold and stormy."

His expression altering, Chase absently rubbed his thumb along her thigh as
he stared out at the swirling snow.  He finally spoke, his voice gruff.  "I'm
so damned glad that things worked out for him and Kate the way they did.  He
sure in hell deserved her, and those boys couldn't have found a better father
if they'd special ordered him?"  He shook his head in amused disbelief.
"Mark is so much like him you'd swear to God he was Tanner's kid, and
everything Scotty says is peppered with 'my dad."  And I doubt if Tanner has
ever raised his voice to either one of them.  "

Devon gave a soft laugh.  "Well, little Alli.~on isn't going to be quite so
accommodating.  He brought her with him the last time, and she was bound and
determined she was going to climb the stairs to the left.  He told her no two
or three times, but she just gave him that big smile and did it anyway.
She's definitely not your run-of-the-mill two-year-old."

Chase watched the snowflakes splatter against the windshield, his expression
thoughtful as he mulled over Devon's comments.  He found her statement about
a run-of-the-mill two-year-old oddly disturbing.  Disquieted by his thoughts,
he deliberately shifted his focus, watching the familiar landscape of Circle
S land flash by.  He'd spent a year on the ranch with Tanner.  His hiring on
at the Circle S had started out as a public act of defiance, to let everyone
know exactly what he thought of his old man, but it had turned out to be one
hell of a lot more than that.  Tanner was eight years older, and Chase had
looked up to him most of his life, but that had changed in the year he'd
worked on the Circle S.  They'd had a chance to become brothers, and Chase
would always be grateful that Burt Shaw, Tanher's parmer and originally the
sole owner of the Circle S, had seen fit to take on another son of Bruce
McCall's.  That had been eighteen years ago, and Burt was now in his eighties
and nearly crippled from a stroke, but he'd been more of a father to Chase in
that one year than Bruce had been in the previous eighteen.  He was family.
And going to the Circle S was like going home.

"You got quiet all of a sudden."

He glanced at Devon and studied her profile, wondering what his old man
thought when he met Devon the first time and realized she was part Indian.
He wondered if he was human enough that it might have kicked off a few
flash-backs about Tanner's mother.  It had for his own mother, but who could
tell with his old man?  Rubbing his hand down her thigh, he spoke, his tone
quiet.  "I was just thinking about that year I spent out here.  I sometimes
wonder where I would have ended up if it hadn't been for Burt and Tanner."

She cast him a dry look, then turned her attention back to the road.  "You
need to ask?"

Amused by the dryness in her tone, he caught the inside of her thigh.  "Don't
be a wiseass, Manyfeathers.  There's more than one road to redemption."

"Then I think you'd better get yourself a good map, McCall."

He grinned and ran his hand higher, deliberately provoking her.  "Seems to me
you're the one who's doing the driving here, Slash."  She gave him a
censuring glance, amusement lurking around her mouth; then she very
deliberately removed his hand from her leg.  "Yes, I am," she responded, her
tone eloquent.  "And don't you forget it."

Chase chuckled and caught her by the back of the neck, giving her a
companionable squeeze.  Lord, but she was a piece of work.

Supper at the McCall house wasn't even remotely similar to the formal dinners
that Chase had had to suffer through as a kid.  Mealtime at the Circle S was
eongeuial, relaxed and sometimes as uncontrolled as a wild horse race, but
above all else, it was first and foremost a family gathering--a large, no'~y
family gathering.  Besides Tanner, Kate and their four kids, there was
eighty-year-old Burt Shaw and his longtime sidekick and Circle S cook, Cyrus
Brewster, who had been the foreman on the Bar M when Chase had been small.
Including Chase and Devon, it came to ten, but no one seemed to notice.  It
frankly amused the hell out of Chase to watch Tanner deal with four kids,
especially two-year-old Allison.  She definitely had a mind of her own, and
with her black curly hair, her daddy's big hazel eyes and a grin that could
melt stone, she was something to be reckoned with.  She and her father had a
go-around over her vegetables.  Tanner had given her a stern look, and Miss
Allison had narrowed her eyes and stared right back, and Chase had nearly
laughed.  And he'd thought Devon was a piece of sass.  There was a brief
staring match; then Tanner had said her name in a tone that no man in his
right mind would challenge, and Miss Allison gave her dad a disgrim-tled
look, then dug in and ate everyone of the offending vegetables.

Chase also noticed that his brother had coasiderably more laugh lines around
his eyes than he used to have, and that realization gave him a constricted
feeling in his chest.  If anyone deserved some happiness, it was Tanner.  His
life had been pretty bleak until Kate and her two boys had shown up.  But now
all that had changed.  Now his brother had a family, with two new daughl~rs
of his own.  Ye aIt Tanner's life had come up all aces~ Chase grinned to
himself.  His brother also had a damned full house.

Kate had left the table partway through the meal to feed the baby, and
Chase's attention shifi~xi as she entered the kitchen carrying his new niece.
Her eyes widening with alarm, Allison immediately scrambled from her high
chair into her father's lap, talcing his face between her pudgy hands.  "Me,
Daddy.  Me."

His eyes twinkling, Tanner draped his arm around his small daughter and gazed
into her worried little face.  "Don't you want to hold Casey?"

Allison shook her head and tightened her hold on his face.  "No Casey.  Me,
Daddy."

Kate rolled her eyes and met Tauner's gaze, exchanging an amused look with
him.  Shaking her head again, Kate shifted her attention and addressed her
small daughter.  "How about if you and Daddy take Casey so I can finish my
supper?  Then someone else can hold her."

Allison thought about that, then turned and set fled herself in her father's
lap and reached for the baby.  "Okay."

Kate handed the baby to Tanner, and the newest McCall scrunched up her face
and gave a big stretch, and Allison chuckled and patted her sister's tummy.
Resting his arms on the table, Chase watched his brother and his two small
daughters, a am'do hovering around his mouth.  Who would have thought
it--Tanner McCall and a lap full of babies.  "Who wants dessert?"

Cyrus smoothed down his white drooping mustache and looked up at Kate, a
twinkle gleaming in his wily old eyes.  "Well, now, Miz Kate.  That sounds
jest fine.  Especially if it's a wedge from one of them fine pies I saw
coolin' on the counter when I came in."

Butt snorted and gave Cyrus a cranky look.  "Don't think you're going to
weasel more'n one piece outta her.  You can make your own damn pies."

The twinkle in Cyrus's eyes inli~sified as he glanced at his old friend.
"Now, Burt.  No need to get your tail in twist.  I

can settle for one piece.  I jest ain't said how big it's going to be?  "

Responding to a glance from his~ mother Mark slid from his chair and removed
the: plate from in front of Butt, then helped the old man straighten the
towel tucked in the front of his shirt.  I.  daning back in his chair and
folding his arms, Chase watched the boy and the old man, watched Mark whisper
something and Burt's sly wink.  Chase had been around the Circle S enough to
know that Burt and the boys were thicker than thieves.  He also knew that
Cyrus was inclined to egg the three of them on, then stand back and Watch the
fireworks.  Chase suspected it was one big conspiracy.  He also suspected
that Tanner and Kate knew all about it.  He wondered if Scotty and Mark knew
how lucky they were.

The baby started to squirm in Tanher's arms, and he bent his head and
murmured something to Allison.  She turned and looked at Chase, her gaze
steady and unblinking.  Restraining a smile, he watched her size him up; then
she gave a single nod and scrambled off her father's knee.  She came around
the table and pushed between Chase and Cyrus, slapping him on the thigh.
"You.  Unca Chase."  She opened her eyes wide and lifted her arms to be
picked up.  Amused by her presumption, he slid his chair back and picked her
up, setting her against his cocked knee.  She folded her hands like an angel,
batted her eyes and gif-l~!  him with a sweet, disarming smile.

Checking his amusement," he straighteaed the strap of her overalls.  " So,
princess.  What's up?  "

She gave him an eloquent shrug and turned her hands palms up.  "Nuffin."

He wanted to laugh.  "Nuffin, huh?  What do you think of your new sister?"

She turned and pointed at the baby.  "Casey."

Leoping his hands around her chubby bottom, he rocked back in his chair.  Her
eyes widened, and a bright sparkle appeared.  She leaned forward and pushed
his chest, obviously wanting him to rock back farther.  Chase grinned.  The
kid was going to be a daredevil, that was for damned sure.  He rocked back
farther, and Allison's eyes it up like the Fourth of July.

Kate spoke from across the table.  "For heaven's sake, don't encourage her,
Chase.  She's bad enough as it is."

He straightened his chair and gave his small niece a wink, and she grinned at
him and tried to wink back.  Chase chuckled.  If this kid didn't give Tanner
a few gray hairs, nothing would.  The baby started fussing in earnest, and
Tanner got up from the table and took her into the living room, Casey's tiny
form snuggled up against his shoulder.

Chase could hear Tanner talking to his small daughter as he walked her back
and forth, her head against his shoulder as he rubbed her back.  A funny
sensation set fled around Chase's heart, and he looked away, schooling his
face into a blank expression.  Yeah, Tanner's life had come up aces, all
right.  He had it all.  But that wasn't what had given Chase a kick in the
chest.  It was the level of commitment he felt every t/me he came here.
Tanner and Kate's commitment to each other, to their family, to their way of
life.  It was a commitment that would list a lifetime, and it left a big hole
in the middle of his gut.  A very big hole.

As soon as supper was over, Cyrus and Butt headed into the newly added family
room to watch a hockey game, and Chase and Tanner went into the living room,
taking the two little ones with them.  ennner continued to wMk the floor with
the baby, and Chase settled into one of the easy chairs with Allison, sinking
down inW a comfortable slouch as she plopped her picture books on his chest.
The sounds from the kitchen followed them, and he caught himself listening
for Devon's husky voice as she and Kate and the boys cleared away the meal.
He wondered if she ever felt as if she was missing out on something.

Disconnecting from that thought, he rested his head against the cha'tr back,
and Allison snuggled down in the crook of his arm, then opened one book.  She
began pointing to pictures, and Chase realiTed he was supposed to identify
whatever she was pointing at.  Her wide-eyed persistence got a smile out of
him, but he couldn't shake the disquieting feeling that had hit him with such
a wallop.  Funny how he was seeing things differently all of a sudden.  Funny
how damned much it hurt.

As if realizing that her uncle had zero attention span, Allison gave up on
him and b~an softly jabbering at each of the pictures, and Chase slouched.
lower, rubbing his chin against her soft, dark curls.  He wasn't sure how
well he was doing with this uncle thing, but she seemed content to cuddle up
with him, and he was at least keeping her out of action and corralled in one
place--something that he suspected was no small feat.

, Allison eventually got quiet and started making soft humming sounds and
pulling at her eyelashes, and Chase shifted his arm, nudging her head aga/nst
his shoulder.  He flattened her curls, kind of liking the feel 'of her weight
against him.  Shifting the baby to the other shoulder, Tanner glanced at
Allison, then gave him a warped grin.  "I'll be dan reed She's almost asleep,
and it's only seven-thirty."  He reposifioned Casey's head, then looked at
Chase, the glint in Iris eyes intensify/ng.  "How would you like a job?  The
benefits are good, and the pay's not bad."

Chase managed a drowsy half smile.  "I dunno.  I think I'd he wise to stick
with wrangling wild bronca."

The laugh lines around Tanner's eyes deepened.  "You should know.  Cyrus says
she's exactly like you were at that age."

Chase shook his head and chuckled.  "Nah.  She's cuter and smells better than
I did."

Devon came into the living room, a large wet spot on the front of her emerald
green T-shirt.  Chase didn't know why, but that wet spot did unnerving things
to his insides.  There was something so domestic about it, and for some
reason it made him want things that were out of reach.  Not wanting anyone to
'read his face, he tipped his head and glanced at his small niece, a sm/le
appearing when he saw how hard she was fighting sleep.

Tanner's voice broke the quiet.  "Devon, would you mind taking this one for a
bit?  I'd like to get small stuff upstairs to bed before she falls asleep.
She gets really owly ff we have to wake her to get her ready for bed."

Chase looked up, a funny sensation settling heavily in his stomach as he
watched Tanner transfer his now-quiet daughter to Devon's outstretched hands.
He tore his eyes away from her, his expression tightening as he slid his
hand under Allison's bottom, then lifted her up so Tanner could take her.  He
watched his brother and his niece disappear up the stairs, then propped his
feet on the footstool and folded his arms, his expression shut, red as he
watched Devon with the tiny baby~ Humming softly, she gently cradled the baby
against her, her long slender fingers cupping the infant's dark head as she
began pacing the floor with her.  It was one of those moments--one of those
unforgettable instances--that would stick in his memory for the rest of his
life.  The aching gentleness in Devon's expression, the helplessness of the
tiny form snuggled protectively against her breast, the straight black hair
poking through her splayed fingers.  Black hair exactly like Devon's.  So
alike that the baby could be hers.

Tightening his jaw against the jolt of awareness, Chase dragged his eyes
away, the sudden thickness in his chest crowding his breath.  She looked so
right holding that baby--as though it was as natural to her as breathing.
She was thirty-~three years old, and her biological clock was ticking.  But
in all the years he'd known her, he could not remember her ever making one
reference to having kids of her own.  He wondered if it was because of her
poverty-stricken childhood.  Or if it was because she had laid those hopes
and dreams aside.

Resting his loosely linked hands across his chest, he shifted his gaze to
her, the hollow sensation in his gut spreading when he saw her brush a kiss
against the baby's.

temple, then smile softly and snuggle the tiny, black-haired head against her
cheek.  He felt as if he'd suddenly been blindsided, and he jerked his gaze
away, a sudden rush of anger surging through him.  He didn't have to wonder
any longer.  His answer was fight there on her face.  And he suddenly
realized that in spite of all the things they had shared, complete honesty
wasn't one of them.  Thrusting himmlf out of the chair, he turned away from
her and headed to the kitchen.  Never, in all the years he'd known her, had
he been as furious with her as he was right then.

By the time they left for home, Chase's anger had set fled into a lump in the
pit of his stomach, setting off one hell of a headache.  He'd suffered from
m/gxa/ne headaches when he was a kid--blinding, ngnd-splitting headaches so
bad that it felt as if his skull would explode if he so much as moved his
head.  He couldn't remember the last time he'd had one, but by the time they
got to Devon's, he was cooking up a beauty.  And by the time he got into the
house, he knew he was going to be in worse shape if he didn't lie down soon.
Fighting against the nausea boiling in his stomach, he stripped off his coat
and boots, then went up the darkened stairs to the kitchen, praying to God
she wouldn't turn on the light.  She didn't.

The yard light down by the arena fain fly illuminated the kitchen, and Chase
headed straight for the living room.  Gritting his teeth against the
sickening jolt of pressure in his skull, he stretched out on his back on the
living room floor, then rested his arms across his eyes.  Remaining
absolutely motionless, he waited for the nausea to ease, trying to release
the grinding lens ion in his jaw.  Years without one, and one run-in with
Milt, one night at his brother's, one run-in with reality, and he felt as if
someone was trying to drive a tank through his head--which put him right back
where he'd been eighteen years ago.  Sometimes he wondered if he would get so
bent out of shape if he could just have one good knock-down-drag-out fight
with his old man.  That might do one hell of a lot to clear away the garbage
that just kept sitting there festering.

There was a soundless movement beside him, and Devon very gently slid her
hand under his head.  "Here," she said softly.  "Let's get a pillow under
your neck."  Carefully era-dling his head against her thigh, she fixed the
pillow, then gently lowered his head, making sure there was a secure roll
under his neck.  The excruciating pressure in his head eased, and he was
finally able to unclench his teeth.  Letting go of that grating, brittle
tension left him feeling cold and shaky.  As if tuned in to his every need,
Devon drew a lightweight comforter over him, her touch infinitely gentle as
she tucked the blanket around his shoulders.  His throat closed up, and he
had to shut his eyes against the sudden surge of emotion.  He'd forgotten how
many times she'd nursed him through one of these in the past.

She gently brushed his hair from him forehead, her voice husky with concern
when she asked, "Would you like an ice pack?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her, her profile blurred in the semidarkness
of the room.  Warmed by the pressure of her thigh against his ribs, he caught
her hand and pressed it against his chest.  "No.  This is good."

Devon laced her fingers through his, and Chase tightened his hold, then
closed his eyes and began stroking her palm with his thumb.  The anger he had
experienced at Tan-her's was gone, replaced by a haunting ache that sat
squarely in the middle of his chest.  He wondered how many more times their
separate orbits would come into alignment he-fore one of them got knocked off
kilter.  The heaviness in his chest expanded, and he clenched his jaw against
it, then~

reached up and caught Devon by the back of the neck and pulled her down
beside him.  Her braid was like a rope of ~.  beneath his forearm as he
cradled her head against shoulder, then began s~,o~l~' ,g her upper arm.  In
spite of the shape he was in, he couldn t get the image of Devon holding that
baby out of his mind.  He wished like hell he could stop feeling as ff they
were living on borrowed time.

A nasty storm front blew in the following day, driving in gray skies,
flurries and blowing snow and, by afternoon, near-bli~-~rd conditions.  The
weather suil~!  Chase's mood perfectly.  His head felt as if he'd just come
off a nine-day drunk, and his mood wasn't much better.  In an effort to spare
everyone, he spent most of the morning by himself in the lower barn, taking
care of a bunch of small repairs that had piled up.  He had just finished
replacing all the belts on the oat crusher and was fixing to check out a gash
on one stallion's hind leg when Sam came into the barn, the snow and cold
swirling in around him as he came through the side door.  He slammed the door
behind him, then stomped the snow off his feet, his plaid wool hat yanked
down on his head, the earflaps covering his ears.  He looked cold and
slightly harried.  Pushing back his hat," he stripped off his gloves and
wiped the end of his nose.  " Damn, but it's cold out there.  We're going to
have to keep an eye on all the water troughs--make sure the' heaters are all
turned up, or we're going to have nothing but blocks of ice out there.  "

Securing the stallion to the heavy metal ring outside the stall, Chase
acknowledged Sam's comment with a single nod, then crouched down and starlrd
unwinding' the wrap on the horse's back leg.  Sam watched him for a moment,
then went into the tack room, and Chase heard him rum-magi rig around.  A few
moments later he came out with two snaffle bits and a set of reins in his
hand.  He closed the door behind him, pulling out a blue handkerchief and
wiping his nose again as be watched Chase inspect the gash.  "How's it
looking?"

Chase lested the area around the wound for swelling, then reached for the jar
of ointment and unscrewed the lid.  "Looks good.  You should be able to start
working him tomorrow."  Chase applied the ointment to a dressing and
stretched it over the nearly healed gash, then began wrap ping the leg.  Sam
continued to watch him, and' Chase glanced up at the older man, his attention
sharpening when he saw the somber, preoccupied expr~ession on the trainer's
face.  Chase stared at him for a moment, then went back to wrapping the
stud's leg.  "Something on your mind, Sam?"  he said quietly.

Sam shot him a star fled look, then frowned and glanced down, his expression
solemn as he fingered the reins, "I dunno.  I've been pondering things
lately.  Mayhe it's time I hung up my chaps and got out of this business."

Chase glanced at him, recognizing the somberness in the older man.  He
finished the final wrap and pressed the Vel, ere grip into place.  "Marj
having a bad day?"  he asked, his tone deliberately of hand

Sam exhaled heavily and gave a terse nod.  "Yeah.  She could hardly make it
out of bed this morning, and I could tell her hands are paining her plenty."
He shook his head, then stuck the reins and bits in the pocket of his
mackinaw.

Chase studied him for a moment, then replaced the lid on the jar of ointment
and set it in the veterinary kit.  "How was she on the cruise?"

Sam heaved another heavy sigh.  "She was good.  Real good.  She teaRy enjoyed
herself."

Fie ng up the kit, stood up, k ping.  tone when he responded," ~Y,o~ could
always spena me worst o~ the winters down south.

sam shook head and heaved anoth igh.  "You run a business like this part,
time boy.  And Devon man ~

l~eep it going on her own.  " He rubbed the back of his hand,

then took his gloves out of his pochet and pulled them on,:

He slapped the stallion on the rump, then turned toward.  the door.  "Come on
up to the ana for a?p ffee you get him squared away.  No sense m wet lung
your sea blind on a day like today."  ~

His gaze somber, Chase rested the first aid kit against he went out into the
bl/zzard,

thigh and stared after Sam as ~iiiiii!  I

a whirl of snow and bitter cold sweeping in before he dosed"

the door.  Chase stood there for a moment; then he turned and swore, slamming
the kit onto the lid of the feed bin.  Damn it, why in hell did life have to
be so bloody compli A feeling of being crowded, of being boxed in, moved in
on Chase, and he didn't like it one bit.  And the storm only made it worse.
By late afternoon he was beginning to feel like a trapped cat, and he finally
headed down to Devon's basement, assembled her set of weights and put himself
through a workout that had sweat pouting off him.  But it didn't release the
pressure in his chest.  Ten years ago--maybe even five--he would have gone
looking for a fight, but he'd finally got it through his head that that was a
less than honorable way of dumping his ugly attitude off on some poor
unsuspecting bastard.  And it didn't solve a damned thing.  He liked to think
he'd grown up some s'nice those barroom brawling days--but the prowly way he
was feeling, he wasn't so sure.

He had supper almost ready when Devon came in, and he knew by the uncertain
expression in her eyes that she had picked up on his edginess.  He turned the
heat down under the spaghetti sauce and dumped the spaghetti into the boiling
water, then leaned against the counter and folded his arms, watching her as
she pulled her thermal sweaters over her head.  The hair that had worked
loose from her braid fanned out in a corona of static electricity, and he
suddenly remembered what it felt like to have the silky weight slithering
across his chest and down his thighs.  He clenched his jaw against the heated
rush of physical response, knowing that after the way he'd been acting, she
deserved more than a quick fix.

He wasn't sure how to fix things, but he knew it wasn't going to be by asking
her about her day.  He watched her as she untangled her arms and tossed the
sweaters on a chair, aware that she was wary about meeting his gaze.  If he'd
learned one thing in the past few years, it was the value of getting right
down to the bottom line.  And by the stark look in her eyes, he knew this was
not the time to waltz.  He spoke, his voice quiet.  "I'm not going to cut out
without telling you."

Her gaze swung sharply to meet his, the fluorescent lights in the kitchen
washing the color out of her face.  She stared at him for a moment, then
looked away, suddenly intent on separating her sweaters and folding them.

Hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeaus; Chase watched her, his
expression solemn.  He didn't say anytl~ing for a moment; then he spoke
again, his tone slightly husky.  "Come here, Der."

He saw her swallow hard, then she met his gaze, her eyes dark and haunl~xi.
He shifted, widening his stance, then reached out his hand.  "Come on," he
urged gruffly.

She set the sweaters aside, and drawing a deep, unsteady breath, she crossed
the room, her body stiff with tension when she slipped her arms around his
waist and turned her face against his neck.  Drawing her hips against his,
Chase exhaled heavily and drew her fully against him, resting his jaw against
her head as he began slowly massaging the small of her hack.  Devon tightened
her arms around him, and

Chase could detect a light quivering in her, as though she had been braced
for pain that hadn't ma~a'ializ~.  Shifting his hold, he cradled her head
firmly against him and brushed a gentling kiss against her temple, his
expression disquieted.  He did nit know what in hell was going to happen to
them.  And if he'd realized anything during the past few days, it was that
they couldn't go on like this.  He'd been jerking her around for too many
years, and time was running out for her.  They were either going to have to
get it together, or he was going to have to cut her loose once and for all.
And maybe he was just being a selfish bastard--maybe he'd dug in his heels so
deep over his old man, he couldn't see the forest for the trees.

He gave her a reassuring hug and pressed his mouth against her hair.
Shifting his hold, he turned slightly, keep-ins her against him as he checked
to make sure the spaghetti wasn't one big lump of starch, then rubbed her
shoulders.  '~Supper's going to be ready pretty quick here," he said gruffly.
" Did you want to have a shower first?  "

Devon exhaled heavily~ and reluctantly eased back in his embrace.  Avoiding
his gaze, she nodded.  '~"Yes, I th ini I'd

Hooking his knuckles under her chin, Chase lifted her face and made her look
at him, the heavy feeling in his gut intensifying when he saw the bleak
expression in her eyes.  He held her gaze for a moment, then tightened his
hold on her jaw and brushed a soft kiss against her mouth.  "Life's a bitch,
isn't it?"  he whispered huskily.

Devon gave a shaky laugh and looked up at him, the look in her eyes not quite
so stark.  "You just figured that out, did you?"

He held her gaze, the corner of his mouth lifting a little.  "I never said I
was quick."

She wiped his bottom lip with her thumb, the humor in her eyes lightening her
expression.  "Hang in there, Slick," she answered, her tone amused.  "You've
just found the road to enlightenment."

He grinned and gave her another quick kiss, then turned her around and gave
her a push toward the bathroom.  'You've got ten minutes, Manyfeathers.  Then
this kitchen is shutting down?  "

Leaning against the counter, he watched her cross the kitchen, appreciating
the rear view, appreciating the lazy, loose-hipped way she moved.  He
wondered what she would look like pregnant.  Caught square in the gut by that
random thought, he clenched his jaw and turned back to the stove, wishing he
could punch somebody.  He knew what was building inside him, and he didn't
like it one damned bit.  It was like recognizing the shadow of something
hovering motionless in very deep water, something still and silent and
dangerous.  He had enough of his old man in him to recognize it for what it
was, and if he ever let it get away from him, he knew it was the kind of
thing that could get ugly and mean.  It was a kind of cold, quiet rage that
could e~t away at a man until it corroded a hole in him.

That shadow was there in him, shimmering deep below the surface, and he could
still clearly remember the first time he had experienced that ugly little
clutch in his gut.  It had been right after he and his old man tangled the
final time.  And he had felt the first s 'turings of it three times af~ that.
Once when Devon turned him down fiat when he asked her to marry ~im; once
two years ago, when she had slipped away in the middle of the night without
so much as a goodbye; and he had felt it again last night, hovering deep
beneath the sudace, when he watched Devon cuddle his tiny niece with all that
untapped maternal warmth.

Folding his arms, he stared at the floor, his expression taut.  That piece of
his old man had disgusted him like nothing else had, and Chase had vowed a
long time ago that he would never let it get away from him.  And after that
time with his old man, he'd sworn he would walk away and never come back
before he would expose Devon to that side of himself.

Dragging his hand across his face, Chase stmighlm~xi and turned to the pots
bubbling on the stove.  Hell, maybe it was just the storm that was eating
away at him, m0kin~ him edgy.  -He'd never liked having to stay inside for
any length of time, and with the exceptions of a couple of trips to the barn
and hack, he'd been locked up inside all day.  And twenty-four hours was just
about his limit.

They ended up eating supper in the living room, sitfin~ on the floor in front
of the fire.  Devon was quiet, o!  most as if she were walking on eggs.  He
knew she was doing her damnedest to accommodate him, and that made him feel
like some kind of heel.  She'd always been like that, he alized.  Even when
she was justa kid, she would bend over ~11 backward to keep the peace, to try
to accommodate his bad moods.  Devon had never been big on confrontations,
and given the choice, he knew she would st'dl skirt one if at all~ possible.
It was a quirk of hers that he had abused in youth, before he really
understood why she was like that.  He knew it was all tied up with
vulnerability and self-doubt and a nearly disabling insecurity that came from
the kind of humiliation that left deep and indel/ble scars.  She would fight
with him over some things; his flirting with danger, the way he used to act
up in school or his chippy attitude.  But she would never confront him whelE
she risked any kind of emotional exposure, where her personal insecurity was
on the line.  it was just too big a risk.  He understood it, but he didn't
like it.  He didn't want that kind of power.  And he didn't like what it
stood for.

"Would you like some more?"

Shifting his gaze from the dancing flames, he glanced at his plate, then at
Devon.  He shook his head.  "No, I'm fine."

She stood up and reached for his empty plate, and Chase saw the misery in her
eyes.  He reached out and caught her wrist, taking her plate from her and
setting it on top of his.  Pushing the plates aside, he exerted a steady
pressure on her arm.  "Come here."

She gave him a forced smile and tried to pull free.  "I'll go get us some
coffee first."

He tightened his hold.  "I don't want coffee.  I want you to sit."

Her smile was a lit He more genuine the second time around.  "What you want
isn't always what you get, Slick."

He knew what she was doing, and he wanted to shake her.  He didn't argue with
her.  He simply caught her behind the knees and gave her arm a sharp tug,
tumbling her across him.  Before she had time to get untangled, he shifted
her legs, then locked her up in a tight embrace.  "No coffee.  No back talk,"
he said, his voice suddenly gruff.  "Just shut up and let me hold you."

She remained rigid in his arms for an instant, then the tension went out of
her, and she slid one arm around his back and pressed her face against his
neck.  As soon as she wrapped both arms around him, he let go of her.  She
hadn't shampooed her hair when she'd had her shower, and he stripped the
elastic off her braid, then started loosening her hair.  But the lingering
scent of herbal shampoo wafted free as he slipped his fingers through the
silky strands, and Chase leaned his head against the sofa and closed his
eyes, a sudden tightness in his chest.  It wasn't just the weather that was
closing in on him.  It was hard, cold reality.  All~r last night, he knew
they could not keep marking time like this.  Something was going to have to
give.  He hoped like hell it wouldn't be his heart.

Chapter 6

The storm had blown itself out by the following morning.  Chase wished he
could say the same for the grim feelings he had taken to bed the previous
night.  He had awakened in the middle of the night, his heart pounding, his
cheat tight as a drum, and for one awful moment he hadn't known where he was.
Then Devon had stirred beside him, and the relief had been so intense he'd
had to grit his teeth against it.

He had left her bed shortly after that and spent the rest of the night
stating out the living room window, watching the storm settle into a still,
winter night, the snow blown smooth and unblemished, the emptiness making him
keenly aware of his alone hesS

He had been unable to face her in the morning.  He just felt too raw, too
naked, to deal with anyone, and especially Devon.  He needed some hard labor
to get rid of the edgi-hesS, and he needed some time alone to get his head
together; then maybe he would he fit to be around, but sure in hell not
before.

He had fed all the horses and completely stripped two stalls before ~]immy,
Luko and Anne showed up, and he had two horses worked and was just warming up
a third when Devon entered the arena.  He could ~ by the way Luke and Anne
exchanged looks that they weren't sure what was going on, and he could also
tell by the way Sam checked the dock over~ the tack room door that Devon was
rawly, if ever, late.  Chase expa/enced a flicker of amusement.  She looked
like hell.  She still had the imprint of the quilt on her face, her hair
looked as if it had been braided by a blind drunk, and her top sweater was on
inside out.

Reining his mount around, he rode across the arena, giving a quiet whoa when
he reached the wall.  Letting the reins go slack, he leaned forward and
rested his arms on the saddle horn, taunting her with a grin.  "Nice of you
to join us, Manyfeathers.  We were beginning to wonder if you'd run off with
the feed salesman."

She gave him a foul look and opened the gate.  "Can it, Slick.  I'm in no
mood for this."

He watched her come toward him, his grin deepening.  "Hey, how were we to
know?  You could have the hots for the feed salesman for all we know."

She glared at him.  "I know it's a strain, McCall, but try to elevate your
mind above your belt buckle."  She reached him and pulled the reins out of
his hand.  "I'll take her."

Amused by her irritability, Chase continued to watch her, wanting to pick on
her in the worst way.  "Do you always wear your clothes inside out, or is
this a new fashion state-nlent?"

"It's a fashion stat~nent," she snapped.  She collected the wins, then gave
him another annoyed look.  "Now get off."

He continued to watch her, wondering how high she was going to blow.  He gave
her an insolent grin.  "No."

Her gaze swiveled to his face, then her eyes narrowed.  She didn't say
anything; she just glared at him.  Without a shred of warning, she grabbed
his leg and shoved his foot out of the stirrup, then hooked her shoulder
under his leg ands gave him the old heave-ho.  He was lying fiat on his back
on the arena floor before he ever knew what hit him.  Turning the horse out
of the way, she bent over him, giving him a sweet, malicious smile.  "Don't
mess with me today, Slick.  I'm in a bad mood."

Chase thought about upending her and carting her off to the sawdust bin, but
there was something so cute and smug about the look on her face that he
decided to give her this ong.  He stacked his hands under his head and gave
her a lazy grin, his voice dehq~erately husky when he said, "Hey, baby.  Nice
legs."

' She gave him another vile look, then collected the reins and swung into the
saddle.  Turning the horse so it was parallel to his body, she looked down at
him.  "You'd better pick yourself up, McCall, or you're going to get
trampled.  Jimmy is bringing in the herd."

"This is a hell of a way to treat a volunteer, you know."  He caught the
glint of amusement in her eyes, and the corner of her mouth lifted, but she
managed to keep from smiling.  "That's just how I like you, Slick," she said,
her voice as smooth as satin.  "Spread out and flat on your back."

Her response tickled him no end, and he grinned at her, liking her sass.
"Why, Miss Manyfeathers," he said, his tone a lazy drawl, "I do believe
you're a loose woman."

She cocked one eyebrow, giving him a dry look.  "I don't know, McCall.  I'm
up here, and you're down there.  Maybe you need to redefine 'loose."

 "

He was still lying there fiat on his hack, grinning like a fool and watching
her ride away, when Sam slammed in through the side door, his earflaps at
right angles to his head.  Shivering from the cold, he stopped at the open
gate and stared at him.  "What are you doing on the ground, boy?  Are you
grabbing anap, or did some little filly dump you?"

Deciding he was getting cold lying on the ground, Chase got up and dusted the
mixture of loam and shavings off his jeans, then picked up his hat and dusted
it off against his leg.  He settled it low on his head, then gave the older
man a rueful look.  "Hell, Sam.  No wonder you can't get good help out here.
Your head trainer just dumped me out of the sad-die."

Sam chuckled and shook his head.  "Not that you had it coming or anything."
He looked across the arena to where Devon was working with the filly, then he
glanced at Chase, his expression turning sober.  He spoke, his voice
modulated so I)evon wouldn't hear.  "Your mama's outside, Chase.  I tried to
get her to walt at the house with Marj, but she has her mind set on speaking
to you pronto."  He glanced at Devon again, then turned to Chase.  "I fig
rued it was best if she didn't talk to you in here."

Chase stared at the trainer, then he swore and looked away.  First Milt, and
now his mother.  When in hell were they going to get the message?  He swept
his gloves up from the arena floor and smacked them against his leg, anger
flaring in him.  He wanted to talk to his mother about as much as he wanl~l
all his teeth knocked out.  He jammed the gloves in the back pocket of his
jeans, then met the older man's gaze.  "Thanks for stalling her, Sam.  She
has no business coming out here."

Sam tipped his head, his expression thoughtful, "She's your mama, boy.  That
counts for something."

Chase could have debated the point, but he let it go.  What he had to say to
his mother was best said in private.

He found her standing by her car, staring off across the pasture, her fur hat
covering her hair, the collar of her mink coat pulled up around her ears.
The beautiful, elegant Ellie McCall had changed very little in the years
since he d seen her last, still beautiful and aloof, still elegant, still
someone his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.  "You wan~ to talk to
me?"

She turned, her mouth compressing into a hard line.  had aged we!  Her hair
had turned a perfect silver,

lines .  in her face did not detract from her stately good looks.  Yeah, she
had aged well, but she hadn't aged sol fly

Sliding her hands into the pockets of her full-length coat, she met his gaze
dead on.  "Is there some place where we can talk?"

He gave her an insolent smile.  "We're fresh out of drawing rooms, Ma.  But
there's a nice barn down the hill."

Ellie McCall gave him an annoyed look, her mouth compressing even more.
Chase knew she hat edit when he called her "Ma."  She had lectured him long
and hard about it when he was a kid, saying that it was a crass and common
form of address.  He hadn't been able to see what the big deal was back then,
and he couldn't see what the big deal was now.  Besides which, he didn't care
much.

She waved her hand toward the house.  "What about there?"

Chase slung his wdght on one hip; his smile just a little nasty.  "That's
Devon's--you remember Devon, don't you, Ma?"  Realizing that he had reverted
to childhood tactics, he turned and rested his hand on the hitching post,
forcing cold, cleansing air into his lungs.  Man, she could get him going
almost as bad' as his old man.  Determined to keep it together, he turned and
faced her.  He stared at her, then spoke, his tone flat with resignation.
"What do you want?  Or did Dad send you out hem?"

She brushed her fingers along the chrome on the car door, then looked at him,
her expression stiffly composed.  "I'd rather not stand out here discussing
family business.  Could we at least sit in the car?"

Chase looked at the brand-new Lincoln, the sidewalls of the tires still
unmarked.  He didn't have to check it out to know it was top of the line and
fully loaded--after all, the MeCalb had an image to maintain.  Recognizing
the undercurrent of bitterness in that thought, Chase looked at his mother,
his expression flat.  "I'll meet you down at the lower barn."  Snapping his
fingers at the dogs who had bounded out from behind the arena, he turned and
started down the path.

The barn was empty except for the cats.  The stall doors stood open, the
horses either turned out or up at the arena, the chitter of sparrows in the
rafters the only sound.  He picked up a hoof pick and curry comb that had
been left on a sack of alfalfa pellets, then entered the heated tack room.
Tossing the hoof pick and curry comb in the proper bin, Chase stripped a
saddle blanket off one of the chairs and draped it over a saddle, dust rising
in motes in the sunlight.  coming through the narrow window.  He heard the
crunch of snow as the car pulled up outside, and he braced his hands on the
workbench and bent his head, trying to let go of the tension, trying to
disconnect.  He did not want to get sucked into the same old crap.  All be
would get out of it was another headache and a knot in his gut.

He heard the outside door open, then footsteps on the concrete.  He
straightened and started sorting through the leather scraps and hardware that
cluttered the workbench.  She came through the door, the scent of her perfume
at odds with the smell of leather and saddle soap.

Chase cast her a quick, expressionless glance~ motioning to the chair by the
door.  "Have a seat."

She glanced at the chair but remained standing.  She abruptly stripped off
her kid leather gloves, her voice quivering with emotion when she spoke.
"I'm very disappointed in you, Chase.  You could at least have called.  Your
father was very upset when be found out you were here."

Chase tossed some rivets in the appropriate can, then gave her a bitter
smile, his tone caustic.  "So what's new?  That's pretty much the story of
our lives, isn't it?"

Her gloves gripped in her hand, she stared at him, tight compression lines
around her mouth, then she released a long breath and glanced around the
room.  There was a silence, then she finally spoke, her tone less brittle,
more en-~t~reating.  "I realize you've got some hard feelings about your
father, but I'd hoped you could set those aside under the

Chase glanced at her, his face devoid of any expression.  "And just what
circumstances are those?"

She ran her fingers along the back of the chair, then looked at him, her
expression fixed.  "He hasn't been well.  And he wants you to come home and
take over the ranch.  You owe him some consideration, Chase.  At least give
him the courtesy of coming in and talking to him."

He tossed several buckles into another can, then swept some leather scraps
into a garbage can.  He didn't say anything for a moment; then he responded,
his voice flat.  "I don't owe him a damned thing.  And he doesn't want me
running the ranch.  He wants me back under his thumb, just like Milt."  He
turned, bracing his hand on the surface of the workbench, his expression
unyielding.  "I'm not playing his damned games anymore, and you can tell him
that for me.  As far as I'm concerned, he blew it eighteen years ago.  I
don't care what he wants or what he does.  He can stuff it, for all I care."

His mother's face went white, and he could feel the indignation in her.  "How
can you sayS that That ranch has been in the family for generations--there's
a responsibility that goes along with that kind ofberitage.  You're his
eldest son.  It's up to you to assume it."

Something eli eked in Chase's mind, and something cold and deadly started to
unfold in his gut.  "He stared at his mother, his eyes narrowed, his gaze
unwavering.  He finally spoke, his tone deadly quiet.  " This isn't about me
at all, is it?  This is about what happens if the old man dies.  "

His mother stared at him; then her gaze shifted away, and she began
straightening the cuff of one glove.  Chase continued to watch, disgust
knotting his gut~ "So what's he put in his will, Ma?  Is there a clause in
there stipulating different terms if I'm running the ranch?"

She continued to fidget with her gloves, her profile taut in the bright light
reflecting off the snow outside.  Chase turned his head away in distaste, the
muscles in his jaw rigid.  God, but it made him sick.  He waitixi until he
got his fury under control, then he turned back to her.  "This is really
about Tanner, isn't it?  You're afraid he's going to con~t the will when Dad
dies."  He paused, his eyes narrowing in speculation.  "Or maybe the old man
included him in the will, and you think that if I take over the Bar M before
the old man dies, he'll turn the deed over.  to me.  And if he does that,
that fini.~lies any chances of Tanner getting his hands on the big McCall
heritage."  It was clear by her refusal to meet his gaze that he was close,
if not dead-on, and Chase made a derisive sound and straightened.  "That
would just be too much, wouldn't it?  If a half-breed McCall got his hands on
the McCall beritage?"  Clenching his jaw, he turned,-bracing one arm on the
shelving adjacent to the workbench as he stared' out the window, anger
welling up in him.  The whole thing made him sick.  Turning his head, he
looked at his mother, giving her a bitter smile.  "You thought you had all
your bases covered, didn't you?  Excep~ once I got my hands on the ranch,
there would be nothing stopping me from turning it over to Tanner.  But you
never even considered that possibility, did you?"

He mother shot him a startled look, ~and Chase gave her another cold, twisted
smile.  "So, Mother.  Do you still want me to pay a visit?"

She stared at him, her face pale, then she began yanking on her gioves, her
actions jerky and agitated.  "You don't think of anyone else but yourself, do
you, Chase?  And you don't care what people think.  Have you ever once
considered that he might not be your father's son?  She was nothing but a
little tramp.  She was a trick rider, for heaven's sake.  That should tell
you something.  Who's to say he wasn't someone else's?"

Discovering a whole new level of disgust, Chase leaned against the workbench
and folded his arms, shaking his head in unbelief.  "You just never give it a
rest,.  do you?  First of all, I didn't give a damn what people thought back
then,

and I don't give a damn what they think now.  Secondly, everyone knows,
including my father, whose kid Tanner is--all you have to do is look at him
and it's pretty bloody obr vious.  " Anger began ~to flicker through him, and
he straightened and took a step toward her, pointing his finger at her.  "
You'd better remember that Tanner is just as much my brother as Milt.  And I
don't give a damn if his mother was a trick rider or a brain surgeon.  Dad's
the one who was at fault, not her.  And the fact that you let Dad take that
little six-year old kid--his own son, for God's sake--and dump him with a
pair of twisted, abusive sickos doesn't say a whole hell of lot for you,
either, l~ilinore.  ".

Flustered and angry over his charge, EHie fussed with the cuff of her glove,
then met his gaze, her eyes snapping with righteous indignation.  "That's a
totally unfounded accusation, Chase.  I had nothing to do with the boy's
placement.  And if his mother hadn't killed herself, there wouldn't have been
any need to find a home for him."

Chase shook his head and snorted with disgust.  "That's it, More.  Whatever
you do, don't get your hands dirty, and be sure and excuse yourself and Dad
from any responsibility.  Hell, why not?  He was just a little half-breed kid
no one

' 9"

cared a damn about.  What difference did ~t make.

His mother started to tremble, her indignation turning to something else.
She gripped the back of the chair, a fevered glaze in her eyes.  "How dare
you stand there and pass judgment on us!  No matter what we did, it was never
quite good enough, and now you don't even have the decency to talk to your
father."

His hands on his hips, Chase stared at her.  "You want to talk about decency?
Fine.  As I recall, he was the one who had me charged with grand theft auto."

Dark spots appeared in her cheeks, and she gripped the chair with both hands.
"You were ruining your life, for heaveifs sake!  He didn't want you to make
the same mistakes he had, and he could see what Devon was like.  God, they
lived in a hovel.  Her mother was the town drunk, and they lived from one
welfare check to anotber.  It was clear to everyone what she was after, and
she had no scruples about how she got it.  if she got preguant~ she knew
you'd marry her, and they'd both be set for life."  Her chin came up and she
stared at him, her expression tight with defiance.  "So your father did what
he had to when he found out you were sleeping with her.  No McCall money, no
McCall respectability, no Devon Manyfeathers."

His fac~ like granite, Chase kicked the chair out of the way, a cold, deadly
fury sweeping through him.  "Well, you can go back and tell him that his
little plan backfired.  Because he ended up with no son, either.  I don't
want a damned thing to do with him, I don't want anything to do with the
ranch, and I sure in hell don't want to be drawn back into the bosom of the
family."  He took a step closer, his expression cold, his smile pure venom.
"And you can also tell him his little plan backfired twice, because I'm still
sleeping with her."

She grabbed his arm, her eyes frantic.  "You' cannot just turn your back on
your"

Chase snatched his arm away and took a step backward.  "Just watch me."
Picking up the chair, he slammed it down in front of the workbench and
started toward the door.

She followed him, her voice shrill with desperation.  "Don't you see what
you're doing?  You're throwing everything away over some piece of trash, just
like your ther nearly did!"

Chase stopped dead in his tracks, then turned on his heel and stared at her,
his rage cold, dark and deadly.  "Don't you ever, ever make that mistake
again, Ma.  Because if you bad-moutL Devon, you'll see a side of me you won't
like very much.  And," he added, his voice even more deadly, "don't you ever
compare me to my old man.  He has the morals of an alley cat and the
principles of a snake.  You can.  tell him for me that I don't want his kind
of respectability, and I sure as hell don't want his money.  I wouldn't touch
the Bar MifI had a gun at my head."

He snatched up two halters and lead shanks that were hooked on an all by one
of the stalls, then turned toward the back door of the barn, knowing he had
to get the hell out before he totally lost it.  He was going to get the
horses Sam wanted worked.  today, be was going to take them up to the arena
and then he was going to find a stack of bales to move.  But a sudden wave of
reaction surged through him, and be slammed the latch on the door, rage born
of frustration roiling in his gut.  He was going to need one hell of lot more
than a stack of bales to work his way through this one.

The horses were in the pen just behind the barn.  Sunlight glinted off the
wind-polished drifts, and the snow squeaked beneath his feet as he crossed to
the corral, the moisture in the animals' breath vapor zing into clouds of
tiny ice erys-tals.  Looping the shank around the bay filly's neck, he
slipped on the halter, his actions swift and automatic.  He tried to shut
down the anger churning through him, tried to disconnect from the ugly
encounter with his mother, but this time it wasn't going to be that easy.
This time the anger was different.  This time he felt as if it could
suffocate him.  "Do you need a hand?"

Avoiding making eye contact with Devon, he pulled the fiHy's forelock free of
the halter and straightened the nose band.  "No.  I can manage."

Ground tying the filly, he crossed to the sorrel and went through the process
again.  Then, collecting both leads in one hand, he started toward her.
Devon slid the metal crossbar back and swung open the gate, holding it open
as he.  led the horses through.  He started up the path toward the arena, the
two horses following along behind him, the two dogs romping belly deep in the
drifts beside him.  His jaw set, all expression erased from his face, he put
one foot in front of the other, feeling as ff there was a big hand jammed in
his chest.

"Chase?"

Devon appeared at his side, and he changed the shanks to the other hand.
"What?"

She looked at him, her eyes dark with concern.  But she didn't ask.  She
wouldn't say anything unless he did.  She never had.

He' glanced over to where the dogs were chasing each other through the snow
beside her, a mirthless smile appearing "I had a visit from my mother."

"What happened?"

Chase stopped and stared off across the distance; then, clenching his jaw, he
met her gaze.  "Nothing happened, Devon.  Not one damned thing."

The sun behind her created a corona of light around her head, the cherry red
collar of her thermal top bright above the neck of her fleece-lined jacket.
Her braid was caught under her jacket, and her head was bare, her hair
shining like black satin in the sunlight.  She was standing with her hands
jammed in her pockets, her eyes dark and anxious as she watched him, and
Chase's chest tightened even more.  It was all so familiar, as if she had
stood before him like that a thousand times.  He swallowed hard and looked
away.

"She wanted me to talk to my old man," he answered, his tone expressionless.
"Apparently he's got it into his head that I'm going to take over the Bar M."

Her could feel her watching him, judging his response, waiting for more, but
he didn't elaborate.  How could he elaborate on disgust?

She hunched her shoulders against the~ cold and huddled deeper in the warmth
of her coat.  "There was more to it than that, wasn't there?"

He looked at her, a flash of anger coursing through him.  "Leave it, Devon,"
he commanded curtly.  "It was the same old garbage.  She also tried to inject
some good old guilt, but I'm not buying it.  And I'm not going to talk about
it, ei She stared up at him, her gaze.  dark and assessing, then she looked
away, not a trace of expression on her face.  She motioned toward the horses.
" I can take these two up if you want.  "

He exhaled sharply and shook his head.  "No.  I've got

She hesitated, then turned and started toward the arena.  "All right, then."
~

Chase watched her walk away, then bent his head and swore.  Damn it.  He
didn't want her mixed up in this mess.  He had never wanted her dragged into
the crap with his family, never wanted her exposed to their kind of bigotry.
And even back then, he'd made dfimned sure she never got dragged into it.
But neither had she ever shown any kind of reaction.  She would listen, and
she would ask a few questions, but she never made any kind of comment.  She
had always remained removed from it all.  He suddenly realized that he had
never challenged her aloofness, never 'questioned her lack of reaction.  But
for some reason, all that had suddenly changed.  He didn't want her to turn
her back and walk away.  He didn't want her standing outside the circle, damn
it.  He wanted some kind of reaction from her.  Something.  Anything.
Something to indicate she gave a damn.  Just one bloody damn.

A jolt of adrenaline and anger swept through him with pure, energizing force,
and he stopped, suddenly so damn furious that he could barely see straight.
Damn it all to hell, this time he wasn't going to let her pull that stunt.
Enough was enough.  It was time they laid some cards on the table; to hell
with this not talking crap.  They had skirted too many problems and avoided
serious confrontations for too long.  He started after her, his temper at the
boiling point as he yelled at her, "Stop right there, damn it!"  '

She turned, her eyes wide, her expression sharp and questioning.

He closed the distance between them, the snow practically melting in his
wake.  He walked right up to her, anger surging in him.  "You plant your
butt, Devon.  You're not going to pull that damned stunt this time around."

She frowned, looking at him as if he'd lost his mind.  "What are you talking
about, McCall?"

He gave a sharp command to the horses, then glared at her, wanting to shake
her.  "I'm talking about you walking away as soon as anything starts to get a
little dicey.  I'm talking about how you clam up and don't say one bloody
word about things like this.  And I'm talking about how you keep holding out
on me, Manyfeathers.  Or don't you give a damn?"

Her expression star fled she stared at him, alarm flickering in her eyes;
then she turned as if to walk away.  Dropping the lead lines, he grabbed her
arm and ~wheeled her around, his irritation skyrocketing.  He caught her by
the jaw and forced her to look at him, something dark and painful breaking
loose in him when he saw how pale her face had gone, when he saw the fear in
her eyes.  "Damn it, don't do this to us, Dev," he commanded roughly.  "I'm
tired of these games we keep playing with each other, and I'm tired of not
knowing where the hell I stand with you."  His temper crested, and he dropped
his hand and looked away, a thick ache unfolding in his chest.  Hell, where
did he go from here?

Inhaling deeply, he finally shifted his gaze and looked at her, his stomach
dropping like a rock when he saw the stark, distressed expression in her
eyes.  He stared at her, then exhaled heavily, his anger settling into a
heavy, resigned feeling.  "Do you know," he said, his tone softening a
little, "that I'm not even sure if you know why !  left eighteen years ago?
It hit me last night at Tanner's that I don't even know if you want kids.  In
fact, it's just hit me how little I do know about you."  He held her gaze for
a moment longer, then he looked down and crushed a clump of ice with his
boot, his voice quiet and very subdued when he continued.  "You were always
there when I needed to blow off steam, or when my old man was leaning on me.
But you never came to me if something was bugging you.  You never let me get
close enough to find out how you felt about anything."  He looked at her, his
expression somber, the cramp in his chest getting worse.  "I didn't realiTc
that until this time around.  And I gotta ~ell you, it hurts like hell."

She stared at him, her eyes dark and fixed, then she swallowed hard and
abruptly turned her head, her expression starkly contained.  Chase watched
her for a moment; then looked down, his expression grim as he raked the
splinters of ice into a p'He with his foot.  He didn't say anything for a
moment~ then he lifted his head and looked at her, his face devoid of any
expression.  "You shut me out, Der.  You always have.  And who the hell
knows?  Maybe you always will."

Her hands jammed deep in her pockets, she hunched her shoulders against the
cold, her face 'averted, but Chase saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes.  He
looked away, experiencing a feeling that was a mix of guilt and anger.  Damn
it, she was doing it again.  Closing up.  Pulling into herself.  HIS anger
grew, and he turned and caught the two horses, then roughly looped the ropes
over her arm.  His expression grim, he started walking toward the lower barn.
He had taken half a dozen steps when she called out his name.

He turned, the torment in her dark eyes kicking off another twist of guilt,
and he pushed back his jacket and hooked his thumb in the waistband of his
jeans, fixing his gaze on the horizon.  Damn it, why did they keep doing this
to each other?

She spoke, her voice trembling, an edge of anxiety in her tone.  "Why did she
come here?"

He swiveled his gaze to look at her, his jaw taut.  He stared at her,
eighteen years of frustration boiling up in him, eighteen years of resentment
finally surfacing.  Nothing would change.  Not a damned thing.  Hegave her
one final disgusted look, then turned, his voice fiat when he snapped, "Don't
expect me back for supper."

If Chase had ever wondered what he'd really been dodging for all those years,
be sure as hell found out over the next three days.  At one point in his life
he would have gone on a five-day drunk, but he knew from experience that
didn't solve a th/ng.  So instead he headed for Tanner's line camp in the
foothills and put himself through some of the worst body abuse and hard
physical labor he'd ever heaped on himself.  The dead of winter was hardly a
good time to stockpile firewood, but he did it, and he did it with nothing
more than an ax, a handsaw and a lariat to drag the felled trees out of the
bush.  He worked until his clothes' were frozen with sweat, until his
shoulders felt like someone was operating on them with red-hot pokers, until
his muscles were quivering from sheer physical exhaustion.  But the hard work
didn't cut it.  There was only one way to deal with the rage of emotions.
And that was to face them and take them apart, piece by piece, until he got
to what was hidden un Something had happened on that narrow trail by the
barn.  It was as ff he'd come flying out of a chute, half expecting to hit a
brick wall, but finding a thirty-foot drop instead.  And for the first time
in his life, he'd been forced to stand back and take a second look.
Admittedly, for the first eighteen hours at the line camp, he'd wallowed in
anger, blaming her for the mess they'd made of their lives.  But as he worked
through that explosive buildup of anger and resentment, he started connecting
with other feelings, and he began to see things from a different angle.  He
realized that he hadn't always been totally honest.  He had accused her of
withdrawing, but he was just as much to blame.  He'd never really been
totally frank with her.  Yeah, she knew how bad the situation was with his
old man, but he hadn't really explained all his reasons for pulling the pin
eighteen years ago.  He'd just been so sure she would pack her bags and go
down the road with him when she turned eighteen that he hadn't given it much
thought.

It had been years later, after he'd grown up a bit, that he'd been able to
see things from her point of view.  But he saw now that that wasn't the only
mistake he'd made.  He had allowed her to withdraw when things got a little
rough.

Yeah, he had wanted to shelter her from the redneck bigotry that existed in a
small community likeBolton, and he sure in hell never told her about all the
fights he'd gotten into over her.  Mayhe that had been a big mistake.  Mayhe
he should have stood beside her instead of in front of her.  Mayhe if he'd
forced her into a few confrontations back then, maybe, just maybe: they
wouldn't he in the mess they were in fight now.

But after three days of hard labor and a whole lot of soul-searching, all
Chase really had to show for it was a pile of firewood, one buggered-up
shoulder and a bunch of blisters.  He certainly hada't come up with any
answers, and he was beginning to feel like a.  dog chasing its tail.  And he.
hurt like hell inside.  He felt as if someone had punched a hole in his gut,
and nothing he did eased the heavy, hollow feeling.  He didn't know what he
would do if he ever lost her for good.

By the evening of the third day, he was so damned exhausted his mind finally
shut down.  He was lying on his bedroll in front of the fire in the old stone
fireplace, ice packs made out of snow and one of his ripped T-shirts packed
around his shoulder, his arms folded across his eyes, that awful, lonely
feeling climbing-up his throat.  There was nothing more lonely than wind
sighing through the fir-trees and moaning around the small cabin.  He
clenched his jaw, willing the tightness to go away.  Maybeit was a chinook
blowing in.

The crunch of snow outside the door brought his head around, and he riveted
his gaze on the doo~r, his body primed for action, but before he had lime to
react, the door swung open.  A cold draft rolled across the floor as Tanner
McCall stepped in.  Chase stared at his brother for a moment, then turned his
head and rested his bad arm across his chest and draped the other over his
eyes.  His tone was curt when he spoke.  "You're.a little far from home,
aren't you?"

Tanner shut the door, and Chase heard him pull off his gloves.  "That
depends."  There was the sound of Tanner wiping his feet, then the sound of a
chair being moved from the battered old table.  Chase heard his brother set
the chair down facing him.  There was a brief pause, then Tanner spoke, his
voice quiet.  "Devon showed up early this morning.  She was pretty
worried--wondered if we knew where you were."

Clenching his jaw against the sudden thickness in his throat, Chase remained
s'flent.  There was the rustle of clothing, then Tanner spoke again, his tone
offhand.  "I thought maybe you might have holed up at the Bar M somewhere.
Then I remembered how you used to come here the year you were with me.
Figured I'd check it out."  ~

';I'm not eighteen, for God's sake.  I can take care of my There was a
mixture of amusement: and patience in Tan-her's voice when he responded.  "I
don't intend to wipe your nose, Chase.  I just thought you might want to
talk."

Chase made no response, not sure why Tanner's appearance made him feel like
he was ten years old again and trying not to bawl.

"That's a nice pile of wood you got out there.  Too bad it's not summer.  You
could have rebuilt all the corrals and fixed all the fences."

Giving in to a flicker of humor, Chase lifted one finger in a rude gesture,
and Tanner chuckled.  There was a short pause, and then Tanner spoke again,
his tone mild.  "I take it you screwed up your shoulder again.  Or have you
been doing a little bronc busting up here, as well?"

His dry tone wrung a smile out of Chase, who shifted his arm and looked at
his brother.  "What's the big deal?  Can't a man just lie around feeling
sorry for himself?"

Hooking his ankle across his knee, Tanner folded his arms and rocked back in
his chair, a smile lurking around his mouth.  "Is that what you're doing?
Feeling sorry for yourself?"

Chase held his brother's gaze for a moment, then closed his eyes and exhaled
heavily.  "I don't know what the hell I'm doing."

There was a long pause; then Tanner spoke again, his voice quiet.  "She was
pretty upset, Chase.  I got the feeling she thought she'd done something
wrong, and you'd taken off."

The muscles in his jaw flexing, Chase shifted his arm onto his forehead,
noting that the ice packs had helped, but his shoulder still felt as if
someone had tried to rip his arm off.  He stared at the dancing flames for
several moments, his expression somber; then he let go another long sigh.  "I
was pretty damned stupid when I was twenty-one."

"I don't know.  I always figured you had things pretty well sorted out by
then."

Chase turned his gaze to his brother, surprised by the response.  "I was a
screw up, and you and I both know it."

Tanner flicked some dried dirt off his jeans, his expression thoughtful.
"You had pretty much worked through the serious stuff," he said quietly.
"And you were putting things back together.  That takes some doing.  for
anybody."  Hooking one thumb in his belt loop, he lifted his gaze and looked
at Chase.  "You weren't a screw up--just a kid with problems."

Chase turned his head and stared at the fire, his voice gruff.  "I don't know
what in hell to do, Tanner."

There was another pause, then Tanner spoke.  "Maybe," he said softly, "you're
saying that to the wrong person."

Chapter 7

The headlights glanced off the side of the arena, the swath of light
glistening in the hoar frost that had settled on the trees and drifts of
snow.  He parked by the side door, not bothering to plug in the block heater,
and started up the path to the darkened house.  The two dogs appeared out of
the shadows and ran along the path ahead of him; then one turned and came
back to him, ears alert, tad wagging.  A flicker of humor lifted the corner
of Chase's mouth, and he paused and scratched the border collie behind the
ears.  There was something to be said for a dog's life.  And he wished he
knew what he was going to say to Devon.

He'd considered half a dozen options on the drive back from the line camp,
but nothing seemed to stick.  He knew what needed to be said, he knew what he
needed to say, but tonight was the wrong time.  All he knew for sure was
'that before he got into anything heavy, he had to tell her how sorry he was
for walking out on her the way he had, He had made too many exits like that
over the years, and he knew if he ever made another one, it would be for good.

The interior of the house was wrapped in silence, but the small fluorescent
light was on over the s'mk, casting the kitchen in a faint luminescence.
With a knot in his gut the s'~ze of his fist, Chase entered the half-darkened
room and set his boots by the heat vent by the door, the silence like a
weight around him.  The tension that had been riding him since he left the
line camp let go in a rush, and he rested his hands on his hips and wearily
tipped his head back, three days of exhaustion piling in on him.  Hell, what
had he expected That she would be waiting up for him?

"Chase?"

He straightened and looked into the gloom in' the living room, his heart
missing a beat when he saw a shimmer of white rise from the sofa.  He watched
her, a sudden ache jamming up, his throat.  He spoke, his voice gruff.  "Hi."

Her arms folded tightly in front of her, she stepped into the archway, and he
realized she had been sleeping in one.  of his shirts.  The tightness in his
throat made his jaw ache.

She tried to smile, the worry in her eyes evident in the half-light.  "Hi,"
she said, her voice soft.  "I was getting.  worried about you."

One hand still on his hipohe looked away, trying to handle the sudden
stinging in' his eyes.  God, but she could turn him inside out.  Finally
managing to get a shaky breath past the lump in his throat, he looked at her,
aware of how she was huddled in the warmth of her own arms, aware of the dark
uncertainty in her eyes.  That uncertainty stripped him to the quick, and he
walked across the shadowed kitchen toward her.  "Come here," he whispered
gruffly.

With a choked sound, she came into his arms, and he gathered her up in a
tight embrace, roughly tucking her face against the curve of his neck.  Chase
felt her take a deep, tremulous breath, then she pressed her face tighter
against him as she slid her arms around his waist.  He could feel her
trembling, as if she'd had a bad scare, and he pressed a kiss to her temple,
then slid his fingers along her scalp, cradling her head in his firm grip.
The heavy, silky weight of her hair tangled around his fingers, the loose
fall like satin down her back, and Chase closed his eyes and hugged her hard,
a swell of emotion making his chest tighten.  Lord, but she filled up that
hole in him.

He felt her take another tremulous breath, and he Smoothed one hand across
her hips and up her back, molding her tightly against him.  Easing in a tight
breath of his own, he brushed a kiss again.  ~t her ear, then spoke, his
voice gruff and uneven.  "I'm sorry I cut out like I did."  He tucked his
head down against he~ and drew her hips flush against him.  "And I'm sorry I
acted like such a damned jerk."

A tremor coursed through her, and Devon dragged her arms free and slipped
them around his neck, the shift intimately and fully aligning her body
against his.  Chase drew an unsteady breath and angled her head back, making
a low, indistinguishable sound as he covered her mouth in a kiss that was raw
with regret, governed by the need to comfort and reassure.  Devon went still.
Then, with a soft exhalation, she clutched at him and yielded to his deep,
comforting kiss.  Chase slid his hand along her.  jaw, his callused fingers
snagging in the long s'dky strands of her hair as he altered the angle of her
head.  She moved against him, and Chase shuddered and tightened his hold, a
fever of emotion sluicing through him, wishing, ah, God, wishing he could
draw her right inside him and keep her there forever.

Dragging his mouth away, he trailed a string of kisses down her neck, then
caught her head again and gave her another hot, wet kiss.  H'm breathing
ragged, he tightened his hold on her face and drew back, holding her against
his chest.  He held her like that, his hand cupping the back of her neck,
until his breathing evened out; then he turned, tucking her against him as he
headed for the bedroom.

She was shaking like a leaf by the time they made it to the bedroom, and he
paused by the bed and drew her into a fierce embrace.  Roughly pressing his
face against the curve of her neck, he held on to her like she was his next
breath,

trying to get a grip on the wild clamor rising up inside him.  Forcing her
head again.  ~t him, he griCaxt his teeth and tipped his own head back,
taking several deep breaths; then somehow he got her panties and his clothes
off without letting her go.  Somehow he managed to tear open the small foil
packet and sheath him.  ~eif.

He was shaking nearly as badly as she was when he lifted her onto the bed,
then followed her down, ripping open the snaps of the shirt she wore before
dragging her beneath him.  He felt as if his heart would explode, as if his
lungs would se'~e up, if he didn't get inside her, if he didn't get as close
to her as he could possibly get.  She made a small, desperate sound and drew
up her knees urging him forward with urgent hands, and Chase clenched his jaw
and closed his eyes, burying himself deep inside her.  God, so deep.  So
tight and deep.

He locked his arms around her, a shudder coursing through him, and he ground
his teeth together, the sensory onslaught nearly ripping him apart.  It
wasn't the sex; it was the physical connection, as if being inside her fused
them into one united whole.  Braced against the mind-shattering sensation,
Chase remained rigid in her arms, waiting for the heated, electrifying rush
to ease.  Releasing a shaky sigh, he braced his weight on his forearms and
bracketed her face in his hands, his heart trapped in his chest as he covered
her mouth in a slow, wet, softly searching kiss.

Devon sobbed into his mouth, her hands clutching at him, and she lifted her
hips, rolling her pelvis hard against him.  Chase roughly slid his hand under
her head and locked his other arm around her buttocks, working his mouth
hungrily against hers as he lifted her higher, then rolled his hips againgt
hers.  Devon made a choked sound, and Chase drank it in, his mind blurring
with a red haze when Devon countered his thrust, her body moving convulsively
beneath him.  Aware of how desperately she needed this kind of comfort, Chase
dragged his mouth away and gritted his teeth, a fine sheen of sweat dampening
his skin as he moved against her,

trying to give her the maximum contact, trying to exert the right amount of
pressure where she needed it most, trying to hang on until she came apart in
his arms.  She made another wild sound, and her counter thrusts turned
desperate and erratic, and Chase tightened his hold.  His senses on
overdrive, he roughly buried his face against her neck and thrust into her,
fighting to go the distance, the red haze governing him.

Devon arched stiffly beneath him, and Chase's face contorted with an agony of
pleasure as her body convulsed around him, pulling, pulling at him.  Then,
with a ragged groan, he went rigid in her arms and let go, emptying himself
deep inside her.  Holding on to her with convulsive strength, he held her
head against him, her face wet against his neek~ Feeling as if he had been
turned inside out, he pressed his mouth against her temple and closed his
eyes, his pulse choppy and erratic, the feelings in his chest almost too much
to handle.  God, but she filled him up--made him feel in~!  estructible.

He drew a deep, shaky breath and pressed another kiss on the corner of her
mouth, his touch slow and comforting as he softly stroked the angle of her
jaw ~with his thumb.  Realizing that her hair was caught under her, hampering
her movements, he braced his weight on one arm and hip, lifting her with him,
then dragged it out from under her.  He spread it on the pillow, releasing
the fragrance of wild roses, and inhaled deeply, letting the satiny length
slither through his fingers.  Taking another deep breath, he bracketed her
face with his hands, shifting his weight so his hips again settled between
her thighs.  Realizing that she needed something to ease the emotional
rawness, he tipped her head back and brushed a light kiss against her mouth,
letting a touch of humor surface.  "You could be in big trouble here, Slash,"
he murmured against her mouth, taking another slow, savoring taste.  "I don't
think I'm gonna be able to haul ass for at least an hour."

He felt her smile against his mouth; then she tightened her arms around his
back and-slid one hand back and forth across his shoulders.  "Sticking in the
saddle, are you, McCall?"

Chase grinned, loving her smart mouth.  "Hell, woman.  I'm after a
championship ride and a silver belt buckle."

She poked him in the ribs, and he jumped and grabbed her wrist, trapping her
hand above her head.  The faint light .  from the yard lit the room, and he
could see the smile in her eyes.  His thumb on her pulse, he caressed her
wrist, his voice gravelly when he spoke.  "You wanna wrestle, Manyfeath-ers?
Or are you just fooling around?

She gave him a wry smile, idly massaging the base of his spree.  "I never
fool around, McCall."

Continuing to stroke her wrist, he lowered his head and slowly moistened her
bottom lip, then he took her mouth again, taking great care to do it well.
He released a soft s'~h, and she slid her free hand up his torso, finally
cupping the back of his head.  He deepened the kiss, and Devon yielded fully
to his questing tongue.  Finally Chase let go of her wrist and slid his arm
under her, holding her with infinite care.  After a long, satisfying kiss, he
reluctantly drew away~ gazing down at her as he caressed her bottom lip with
his thumb.  He stroked her face, tracing her high cheekbones, the arch of her
eyebrows; then he gave her another quick kiss, braced himself and abruptly
withdrew from her moist warmth.  She jackknifed against him, and he held her
head against his shoulder until she caught her breath, then he rolled onto
his back, taking her with him.  He stripped off the protection and dropped it
on the pile of clothes beside the bed, then drew her against him.  Snuggling
her head against his shoulder, he drew her long, muscled leg between his.
Cradling her hips against him, he ran his hand up her naked back, then tucked
his head and kissed her brow.  "We need to talk, Dev," he said, his tone
husky.

She went still in his arms, then she turned her face against his neck and
tightened her arm around his waist.  Pressing another kiss against her hair,
he began slowly stroking his hand up and down her back.  His expression
somber, he considered all he wanted to say to her; then he spoke, his voice
very quiet.  '~Do you remember when I started skip-ping school to go out to
Nordstrom's to ride broncs, and you got so ticked off at me?  "

Devon stirred and shifted her head, then he felt her eye.  lashes against his
skin when she opened her eyes.  "Yes," she whispered.  "I remember."

Staring into the darkness, he let his hand rest on the swell of her hip,
giving her a small, prompting squeeze.  "Do you remember what we fought
about?"

There was an odd hesitation, and he was aware of an unusual stillness in her.
Finally she answered.  "About you taking stupid, reckless chances."

His expression thoughtful with recollection, Chase absently stroked the rise
of her hip with his thumb as he considered her response.  Finally he spoke.
"For me, it had nothing to do with taking chances, Dev," he said, his tone
rough.  "It was about dealing with disgust.  It was about a kid hating
everything his old man stood for."  One corner of Chase's mouth lifted in a
humorless smile.  "It was about mutiny."

Devon lay still in his arms for a split second; then she rose up on one elbow
and looked down at him, her hair creating a waterfall of inky blackness
around her shoulders.  She stared at him, the faint light from outside
washing across her face and revealing the confusion in her expression~ A
glimmer of alarm appeared in her eyes.  "What's this really about, Chase?"
she whispered unevenly.

He stared up at her for a moment, then shifted his focus.  Avoiding her gaze,
he painstakingly hooked his thumb under a thick swatch of hair and drew it
back, tucking it care, fully behind her.  "This is about the things we never
talked about," he answered quietly.  "About the things we--about the things I
should have said to you and didn't."  Finally he met her gaze, his expression
somber.  Screwing up his cour age, he took the step that he knew could change
everything.  "Do you know why I went down the road, Devon?"

She gazed at him, her eyes wide with uncertainty, then she looked away.  She
lightly ran her fingertips along his collarbone, lingering at the joint of
an' old break--one he'd gotten when one of Nordstrom's range.  wild horses
pried him into a corral fence.  Her gaze averted, she continued to stroke his
collarbone, and Chase waited, sensing her struggle.  Her hair was draped
around her face, and she lifted it.  Chase waited for her to answer, knowing
this was critical.  Lingering on the old heal mark, she finally answered,
trying to be offhand.  "I expect it had something to do with the male warrior
thing."  ~

Feeling disappointed and a little bit angry, Chase grasped her face and
jerked her head up, forcing her to look at him.  "Don't," he ordered sharply.
"Just don't, okay?  I want you to talk to me."

She stared at him, then she.  swallowed hard and looked away.  He brought her
head around, his gaze demanding and intent.  "Please, Devon.  I need you to
talk to me."

She held his gaze for a moment, then she bent her head and started rubbing
her thumb back and forth across the lump in the collarbone again, her touch
not quite steady.  She swallowed, then took a deep, unsteady breath.  "I
don't know why.  I guess I thought you didn't want to be anchored in one
spot--that you did it to spite your father.  I tried not to think about it."

For some reason Chase felt as if he'd just been let out of a dark, tight
space, and he closed his eyes and hugged her hard, feeling as if he could
take his first deep breath in days.  He.  pressed a kiss against her brow,
then hugged her again.  His chest expanding with a deep, uneven breath, he
spoke, his voice gruff.  "No, babe, you got it wrong.  It wasn't about spite.
It was about my fight for independence.  I left because I didn't want to be
in my old man's back pocket.  I didn't want him calling the shots and telling
me how to run my life.  And I sure as hell didn't want his damned money.

He would have buried me alive if I stuck around here, and I knew it.  I had
to get out--had to make it on my own.  " Cupping his hand against the angle
of her jaw, he stroked her ear and brushed another soft kiss against her
forehead.  Smoothing down some wisps of hair, Chase rested his head against
hers, a solemn, reflective expression appearing.  He stared off into the
darkness, then inhaled and spoke, gently caressing her car.  " I left for a
lot of reasons, babe," he said quietly.  " I left because I didn't want
anything to do with my old man, but there was more to it than that.  " His
throat suddenly closed up on him, and he tightened his hold on her face,
hugging her head against the curve of his shoulder.  He had to wait for the
tightness to ease, then he spoke, his voice husky with emotion.  " There was
also you.  "

Her head came up, and she stared at him, a stunned expression on her face.
"Me?"

A warped smile appearing, he tucked some loose hair he-hind her ear.  "Yeah,"
he said, his voice husky.  "You."  She stared at him, and Chase ran his thumb
down her cheek, a tight feeling unfolding in his chest.  "You were only
sixteen,

"But"

He pressed his thumb against her mouth, trying his damned eat to maintain the
trace of a smile.  "I knew I was leaning on you pretty hard, and I knew how
much you wanted to finish school."  The tightness in his chest expanding, he
shifted his gaze to her mouth as he drew his thumb along her.  lower lip.
Clearing his throat, he stroked the corner of her mouth.  "I knew I wasn't
going to be able to leave-you alone, and I was afraid if I stuck around,
you'd end up pregnant.  And I was afraid if I hung around much longer, people
would figure out what was going on and there'd be talk."  He shifted his
thumb to the fullest part of her mouth, his expression sobering.  "You were
too young for that kind of crap, Dev," he said, his voice gruff.  "And I saw
how the people around here treated Tanner because of my old man.  I didn't
want the same thing to' happen to you."

He looked up, something painful happening around his heart when he saw the
glimmer of tears in her eyes.  Sliding his hand along her jaw until his
fingers were buried in her hair, he drew her head down, the fullness in his
chest making his throat cramp.  He took her mouth in a soft, comforting kiss.
Wrapping his fingers around the back of her head, he held her still as he
softly, slowly brushed his mouth back and forth across hers, tormenting her,
tormenting himself: "You were so young," he whispered unevenly against her
mouth.  "And aHI could think about was getting you alone, getting inside you.
I would have got you pregnant for sure."

Releasing her pent-up breath in a rush, Devon slid her arms around his neck
and moved on top of him.  Closing his eyes against the onslaught of
sensation, Chase turned his face against her and wrapped her in a hard,
enveloping embrace, wondering how in hell he would ever manage without her.
Grasping a handful of hair, he clenched his jaw and turned his head against
hers, something raw and wild breaking loose inside him.  Inhaling raggedly,
he clutched her against' him A tremor coursed through her, and she drew her
knees up and pulled out of his hold, her hair cascading around her face as
she rose above him.  Realizing what was happening, realizing what she
intended, he snatched her hand away.  She twisted her wrist free, then drew
his hand to her mouth, placing a hot, wet kiss against his palm.  Lacing her
fingers through his, she caught his other hand and repeated the hot, erotic
caress, then forced his hands down by his head.  Another tremor shuddered
through her, and she rose up, then lowered her weight upon him, taking him
deep inside her.  Naked.  Unprotected.  Deep, deep inside her.

Breaking out in a cold sweat, Chase clenched his jaw against the sharp,
electrifying surge of feeling, his shoui-ders coming off the bed as she moved
once, twice against him.  His heartbeat a frenzy in his chest, his pulse
thick and heavy, he tightened his fingers through hers in a white-knuckle
grip, turning his head against the pillow.

"Dev..  ~honey.  Ah... God.  I can't... you've gotta stop, babe."

Bending over him, she stroked the palms of his hands with her thumbs, her
breasts grazing his chest.  "No," she whispered brokenly.  "No."  Another
shudder coursed through her, and she tightened her hold on his hands, her
breath catching as she flexed her hips, her hot, wet tightness gripping him,
stroking him, drawing him closer and closer.

An agony of sensation shot through him, and he rolled his head again,.  the
cords of his neck taut, and he sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.
God, he wanted to let go, wanted to ride out the hard, swelling need.  But
Devon.  This was Devon.

Then she moved again, taking him ever deeper inside her, and he went under,
the fever claiming him.  He groaned and flexed beneath her, driving inside
her.  He couldn't stop.

Trailers of a dream faded in his mind when Chase surfaced from sleep,
half-conscious of a numbing weight on his arm.  He shifted and stirred, a
jolt of pain shooting through his shoulder, and he drowsily licked his lips
and opened his eyes.  The room was still dark, and Devon was sound asleep,
her head resting in the hollow of his shoulder, but he knew from his internal
clock that it was early morning.  He waited for the mental fog to clear a
little, then he carefully drew her head onto his chest and flexed his hand
against the pins-and-needles sensation.  Scrubbing his face to rid himself of
the last vestiges of sleep, he tucked his head and brushed a soft, lingering
kiss against her forehead, smiling a little when she made a soft sound and
turned her face toward his warmth.  If only things could be that simple.

Brushing back the wisps of hair clinging to her face, he kissed her again,
then cautiously rolled his throbbing shoulder.  Easing the tightness, he
leaned forward and stuffed two pillows behind his shoulders, settling himself
into a more comfortable position before resting his still-tingling arm along
her hip.  He stared into the darkness,

thinking about what had happened last night.  He had received something from
her that he had never expected.  An emotional gift.  And he wouldn't be sorry
if she ended up pregnant because of it.

But what left his gut in a knot was that she had lost it the way she had.
Devon never lost it.  Until the other day, he had never seen her cry.  She
never got flustered, she never panicked, and she sure as hell never went over
the edge.  There was a coolness, a kind of control in her, that he had always
admired.  Maybe it was because he was such a damned hot-head that he admired
that evenness in her.  Yeah, he'd seen her uncertain and a whole lot
vulnerable, but he'd never seen her really lose it--not like she had last
night.  And he wondered what it meant.  For.  the first time in five years,
he would have chewed nails for a cigarette.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he gazed at her, his expression solemn.  Even in the
faint light from outside, he could see the shadows under her eyes, and he
wondered if she'd had as little sleep during the past three days as he had.
It was pretty obvious he'd shaken her up.  A small, wry smile appeared.  Of
course he'd given himself a good shake in the process.  He lightly brushed
his thumb along her high cheekbone, then tucked a loose piece of hair behind
her ear.  Remembering that galvanizing instant when she had taken him deep
inside her, Chase tipped his head back and closed his eyes, fighting the urge
to draw her up against him.  He waited for the thick, heavy surge to ease a
lit He then took a deep, steadying breath 'and glanced at the clock on the
bedside table.  Five o'clock.  Maybe it was time to stack a few thousand
bales.

She stirred when he eased away from her, and he leaned over and brushed a
light kiss against her temple.  "It's okay, da ding he whispered gruffly.  "
Go back to sleep.  " He lifted her hair off her face, then drew the comforter
over her shoulders.  He waited until he was sure she was asleep, then eased
his weight from the bed.  Making as little noise as possible, he collected a
set of clean clothes and the alarm clock, then went to the window and closed
the blind.  It was Saturday, and they never worked customers' horses on the
weekend.  They could manage fine without her.  He listened for any change in
her breathing, then left the room, closing the door sotmdlessly behind him.

His expression somber, he went into the bathroom, avoiding his reflection in
the mirror over the sink as he turned on the taps.  That fragile look in her
face bothered the hell out of him.  He had never seen her like that before.
He'd seen her withdraw, and he'd seen her wounded and as wary as a wild deer,
but he had never seen her look so fragile, so bloody breakable, before.  It
made him uneasy.  It was almost as if some inner defense had been stripped
away, leaving her exposed.  He wasn't sure how she would handle that
exposure.  After all, Devon Manyfeathers had spent her whole life keeping her
guard up.  He didn't know how she would react if someone ever brought it down.

It was midmorning when Devon finally showed up at the arena, and it only took
one look at her face to know that something serious had happened.  She almost
pulled- off that cool, kind of ~moved, slightly amused demeanor, but there
was something about her that made Chase's gaze narrow.  She met his glance
when she first came in, and the hollow-ness in her eyes made his gut clench.
It was grief he saw--deep, gut-wrenching grief.  That glimpse stunned him,
and he stood in the alleyway, his hand resting on the rump of the horse he
was saddling, feeling like someone had just kicked his feet out from under
him.  Grief?

Without thinking, he went after her.  Grabbing her arm from behind, he hauled
her into an empty stall and into the corner where no could see them, then
caught her by the back of the head and forced her pale face into the curve
neck.  The bill of her Blue Jays hat was in the way, and he peeled it off and
tossed it aside, then wrapped her in a tight embrace.  He didn't say
anything; he just held her tight, It took a while, but finally the rigidness
left her body, and she drew a deep, uneven breath and slid her arms around
his chest.

He pressed a kiss against her neck, then snuggled her closer into his warmth.
He knew better than to ask her what was wrong.  Dev was like a filly that
was head shy and real skittish--he didn't want to do anything that would make
her pu~ back.  Resting his jaw against her head, he rubbed his hand against
her firmly.  muscled hips.  "This is a hell of job I got here, Manyfeathers.
I work long hours, I don't get paid, and it's cold as hell.  The least you
could do is show a little appreciation."

She gave a shaky laugh and slid her bare hands into the back pockets of his
jeans.  "Just what did you have in mind?"

He mimicked her hold, then leaned back and grinned at her.  "Hell, I don't
know.  How about a lesson in French kissing?  I figure with a little practice
I could get pretty good at it."

She watched him, giving him a slightly scandalized look.  "The only lesson
I,m going to be giving is one on reining, McCall," she responded dryly.  "And
I suggest you give it a try yourself.  The Nordstrom kids are going to be
here any time for their riding lesson."

He brought his head up, his tone one of surprise.  "Keith Nordstrom's kids?"

A wry smile lifted one.  corner of her mouth.  "None other."

"I thought he and Lisa had moved to Lethbridge."  Devon gave a little shrug.
"They did, but they only stayed a couple of years--until he got the farm
dealership up and running.  They moved back here last fall."

"Well, hell.  I didn't know that."  Chase pinched her bottom and grinned.
"So if I'm not going to get my lesson, what are we doing in' here?"

She gave him a slow, lazy smile, the shadows gone from her eyes.  "I don't
know.  But you've got your hands pretty deep in my pockets, Slick."

He chuckled, then leaned down and gave her a quick, hard kiss.  "You like it."

She smiled against his mouth.  "Quit fishing, McCall."  Chase grinned and
gave her bottom another lit He squeeze, thinking about her lesson.  He knew
that because of the work load, Devon had stopped giving lessons to the kids
in the district several years ago, and in fact, that was why Sam had hired
,~,nne.  He wondered if she was giving this one.  "Are you giving this
lesson?"

She nodded.  "I fill in for Anne on her day off."

He gave her a wicked grin.  "Does that mean that Anne fills in for you on
your day off?."

Devon gave him a pithy look.  "You wish."

Keith Nordstrom and Chase went back a long way.  They had been nearly
inseparable all through school, and they had raised more hell, got into more
scrapes and set the town on its ear more times than anyone could count.
Keith's father had a farm implement dealership in town, but he also owned a
ranch just east of Bolton.  He also had the darned-est horses that walked on
four legs.  They were part draft horse, part thoroughbred, with a lit He bit
of quarter horse thrown in.  Running loose in a corral, they were as tame as
sheep, as docile as milk cows and as friendly as retriever pups, but the
minute you dropped a saddle on them, all hell broke loose~ Then they turned
inW the' wildest snorting, bucking, crow-hopping broncs that ever drew
breath, and every one of them made it a personal mission to dump any man who
tried to get on him.  They loved to buck.  From the time he and Keith were
big enough to do up the rigging, they spent hours trying to stick on them--to
ride out the eight-second horn.  They spent all their free time out there,
and when Devon came on the scene, they used to take her along to keep time.
Chase had no idea how many hours the three of them had spent in that old
corral, but it had been a few.  And when he decided to hit the rodeo circuit
when he turned nineteen, Keith had packed up his saddle, his spurs and his
harmonica and gone with him.

They were on the road together eight years.  Then Keith met Lisa at a rodeo
in Oklahoma.  By then, Chase had enough silver belt buckles, trophies and
broken bones to last him a lifetime.  Keith packed up his considerable
winnings, his new wife and his harmonica and went to Bolton to set He down;
Chase packed up his belt buckles, trophies and mended bones and bought a
spread in Colorado.  As soon as he was settled, he bought all the stock Hal
Nordstrom would sell him, took those horses and used them as the foundation
for the best string of bucking broncs the pro circuit had ever seen.  His
broncs had won more championships and money than he had, and they were worth
a small fortune, but the most amazing part was that the breeding stayed true.
Any of the horses from Nordstrom stock still had the same easy dispositions
until the chute crew dropped a saddle on their backs or tightened the flank
straps.  Then they turned into the wildest brones ever to come out of a
chute.  -Those horses had taught Chase more about bronc riding than a
lifetime of riding clinics could have, and now they made him a damned good
living.  It made him grin just thinking about it.

Chase was doing some light work on one of his horses when Keith and his two
girls showed up.  Checking the horse to a walk, he rode over to the wall and
reined in.  He grinned when he saw the silver saddle bronc belt buckle from
the Calgary Stampede.  They had been fled going into the final round, and it
had taken ~three rides, one right after another, to break the He.  The crowd
had loved it.  On the last round, Keith drew a horse full of spit and
vinegar; Chase drew one who was a lit He short on try.  Keith took the top
money by a single point; Chase 'took one hell of a fall when his horse went
down just after the horn sounded.  They'd been so hamn~ered up and beat down
and hung over the next day, they could barely pull on their boots.  It had
been a dumb stunt, considering they had always split their winnings, anyway.
But Keith had got the engraved s'dver buckle.

Letting the rems go slack, he hunched over and folded his arms on the saddle
horn.  "Glad to see you taking such good care of that buckle, Nordstrom.
Even if your belly's starting to hang over it a little."

Keith's head swiveled around, his eyes widening with surprise; then a huge
grin creased his face.  "Well, I'll he damned.  What are you doing here,
McCall?  Getting some tiding lessons?"

Amusement kicking at the.  corner of his mouth, Chase nudged the horse
against the wall, stepped out of the saddle onto the fence and swung down to
the ground.  He grinned and took Keith's outstretched hand.  "I didn't know
you were back in tow nor I'd have stopped by before now."

Keith slapped him on the shoulder, his eyes glinting with mischief.  "You'd
better get a bucket for your butt, old buddy.  When Lisa finds out you've
been hiding your face out here, she's going to come after you with a gun."

Chase rested his shoulder against ~he cambered wall and hooked his thumb over
the front buckle of his chaps, fighting a grin.  Lisa Nordstrom was probably
the sweetest, best-natured woman Chase had ever met, and the thought of her
going after anything with a gun was worth smiling about.  He gazed at Keith
from under the brim of his hat.  "Right."

Keith chuckled, then turned.  His two daughters were feeding carrots to a
couple of horses down at the far end of the shed row.  He called to them.
"Hey, Marcy, Beth.  Come see who's here."

The two girls looked toward their father, stared, then threw their carrots in
a stall and came hightailing it down the alleyway.  "Uncle Chase!  Uncle
Chase!  What are you doing here?"

Chase straightened and stepped away from the wall, grinning at the two of
them as he braced for the onslaught.  They hit him going ninety miles an
hour, and he caught one in each arm and hoisted them up.  Marcy was nine,
Beth was seven, and Chase was godfather to both of them.  He hadn't seen them
in two years, when Keith and Lisa had brought them down for a visit.

Nearly strangled by a clutch of arms and double hugs, he hiked them higher
and grinned at them.  "So how are my best girls?"

Beth planted a big kiss on his cheek, smiling from ear to ear.  "We're doing
fine."  She stuck out her foot.  "See my new boots?"

Settling them on the top of the wall, he checked out their boots.  "Hey!  Red
ropers.  Pretty classy."

Marcy gave him another hug, her bright blue eyes sparkling.  "Boy, is Mom
going to be surprised!"

Devon came up the shed row, swinging a bridle, and Beth turned to look at
her.  "Guess what, Devon?  My Uncle Chase is here."

Devon smiled, shooting Chase an amused look.  "Just can't keep away from the
girls, can you, McCall?"

Keith chuckled and hooked his arm on the gate.  "Hell, Devon.  Don't worry
about these two.  They're just playing him for a fool."

The glimmer of amusement intensified, and she responded, her tone pointed,
"Well, that shouldn't be~ too hard."

Chase gave her a long, level look and a menacing smile.

That c~ack was going to get her a trip to.  the sawdust bin.  Devon didn't
look too worried.

Chase took a particular interest in watching his god-daughters' riding
lesson.  Devon was not only an excellent trainer, but she was an excellent
teacher, as well.  He thought again about her having kids of her own.

Keith put one foot on the bottom rail of the metal gate and hooked his arms
over the top, his gaze fixed on his two girls.  "You're looking pretty
serious there, old buddy.  I got a couple of ears that aren't doing anything
right now."

Bracing one arm on the upright by the gate, Chase watched Marcy do a decent
stop, his expression somber.

"I'm afraid your ears aren't going to do me a hell of a lot of good this time
around."

Keith rolled the straw he was chewing to the other side of his mouth and
laced his hands 'together, watching Devon; thea he cast a glance at Chase.
"As I recall, my ears weren't much help last time around, either?

Chase managed a warped smile.  "Hell, Nordstrom.  The only thing your ears
are good for is keeping your hat from slipping down over your eyes."

The other man chuckled and shifted his stance, resting his other foot on the
gate rail.  He watched his girls for a mo-meat, then spoke, his tone casual.
"I hear Sam's thinking about selling this place."

Chase shrugged.  "He's mentioned it.  I can't see him doing it, though."

Keith didn't say anything for a minute, then he spat the straw out of his
mouth, turning his head to look at Chase.  There was a sharp glint of
amusement in his eyes.  "You're damned boring today, McCall."

That got another warped half smile out of Chase.  "You wouldn't know boring
if you stepped in it, Nordstrom."

Chuckling, Keith straightened.  "Tell you what.  Why don't you and Dev come
on in for supper tonight?  We'll drink a little beer, shoot a little pool,
and then I'll let you look at all my pretty silver belt buckles."

Chase grinned and shot his buddy a quick look.  "I dunno.  Sounds pretty
damned boring."

There was a sly tone in Keith's voice when he answered.  "Lisa's making
chicken and dumplings."

-Laughing, Chase slapped his old rodeo buddy on the back.  "We'll be there."

Later that night, Chase lay staring into the darkness, one arm folded under
his head.  In a peculiar sort of way, it had' been like stepping into the
past, the evening at the Nord-st roms Devon had been a little hesitant about
going--not reluctant, just hesitant--and it made Chase remember one time when
he had taken her out to the Nordstem ranch with him.  She'd been about
thirteen--a mature, shy thirteen who looked more like sixteea--and Mrs.
Nordstrom had invil~xt them in for lemonade.

She had been so shy and hesitant that day.  Suddenly his buddy, his pal, had
turned into this shy, hesitant young girl who sneaked her hand into his and
hung on to him like glue.  She had touched some very deep, very territorial
and protective feel Jags in him that day, and that was when their
relationship had shifi~xl.  She was still his friend, his soul mate, his
nearly constant companion, but from that point on, he was always acutely
aware that Devon Manyfeathers was a beautiful, stmsual young woman, And it
sure as hell in-flared his young, cocky male ego the way she ignored.  all
the other young studs.  Keith was different, though.  She had let him get
closer than anybody else, but even back then, Chase knew she allowed it only
because of him.  '

It had taken Chase a long time to figure out that Devon was reserved and wary
by nature.  At first he'd thought it was because of her alcoholic mother and
theirs impoverished situation, but he'd finally realized that she would have
been that way no matter what.  It was.  simply a part of who she was.  And
he'd seen one side of her tonight at the Nord-st roms that shy, hesitant part
that he hadn't seen for a very long time, not since she was thirteen.  It
made him realize just how damned vulnerablo she was.  Staring into the
darkness, he wished he was smarter, wiser.  He thought again that she was
like a head-shy, skittish young filly right now, and his gut instinct told
him not to rush her.

He would back off and give her a little time.  Maybe all he had to do was
wait her out, and she would eventually take a step forward.  And then again,
maybe he was just whistling in the dark.

Chapter 8

Dudng the next week, Chase did back off.  He didn't push her, he didn't try
to get her talking, and he never asked her why she got that bruised, haunted
look in her eyes.  And he didn't ask her why he kept see' rag traces of the
hesitancy that had surfaced the night they went to Keith's and Lisa's,
either.  He knew she was wrestling with deep-seated emotions, and he knew she
was more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, but she had to make the next
move.  It was as if she was stranded on a high, narrow ledge.  No matter what
he did or said, it didn't matter a damn Unless she let go and took that first
stel~.  He didn't care how big a step it was, or how she~ took it.  He just
knew nothing would change unless she did.

There were times when he felt as if he was an inch away from climbing out of
his skin, and then there were times when she seemed so damned fragile~ that
he would get her alone somewhere and just hold her.  And every time he did
it, she would huddle in his arms, almost as if she was cold and hurting.
Nights were different.  At night, she didn't want comforting or gentleness.
There was a kind of wildness in her, an urgency, and she pushed him to the
limit, pushed him until he finally lost it.  And then the fire in her would
consume him, and he would need her so damned bad and be so desperate to get
inside her that there was no room for patience, for gentleness, for comfort.

He'd never had such blinding climaxes.  And he'd never felt so emptied
aft~wvard.  Or so hollow.  He had never, ever used her to satisfy his own
needs, but he felt as if he was using her now, and it bothered the hell out
of him.  He probably would have had it out with her, except that afterward,
when they lay spent and ii-ca~bling in each other's arms, she seemed to need
him more than ever.  She would hold on to him, her whole body trembling, and
even in her sleep, she stayed close.

There were a dozen times when he came close to asking her what was wrong, but
he didn't.  He needed her to take that first step by herself.  She had to let
go of whatever handhold she was hanging on to and come to him.  She had to;
it Wouldn't be worth anything if he forced her into it.

By Friday, Chase felt as if he were a trapped cat.  Feeling as if he were an
inch away from shaking somebody, he used Tanner as an excuse and took off in
the afternoon.  He helped Tanner move the cows that were due to drop their
first calves closer to the ranch, then helped him get the calving barn setup.
It was after eleven when he finally got back to Silver Springs, and Devon
was already in bed, asleep.  Chase had a shower and crawled in beside her,
hoping she wouldn't wake up.  She didn't, but the moment he stretched out
beside her, she turned to him.  He gathered her up and drew her head onto his
chest, a heavy tightness unfolding in him.  In spite of everything, that one
unconscious act affected him like little else had.  He snuggled her head
closer and shut his eyes, his throat so full he could barely swallow.  God,
but he valued that.  Her instinctive trust.

He awoke hours later from a disjointed, confusing dream, his heart racing and
his lungs tight.  For an instant he didn't know where he was.  Oddly enough,
it was the empty space beside him that registered first, and he scrubbed his
face and tried to rid himself of the last dregs.  of-sleep.  Finally fully
awake and realizing that Devon was gone, he threw back the covers and sat up,
reaching for his jeans.

He found her in the living room, standing in front of the big picture window,
her arms folded tightly in front of her.  The yard light reflected off the
snow outside, casting her in an eerie glow, the long black fall of her hair
standing out starkly against the thigh-length white terry robe.

Resting his shoulder against the door frame, he folded his arms across his
bare chest, his expression thoughtful as he watched her.  He studied her for
a moment, then spoke, his voice quiet.  "Something on your mind, Slash?"

He could tell by the way her body stiffened before she turned that she hadn't
heard him come in.  She stared at him, then gave a little shrug.  "No.  I
just couldn't sleep."

He continued to watch her, trying to read her face in the faint light,
deciding he had no choice but to confront her.  "Come on, Der," he said,
quietly chastising her lie.  "Don't pull that with me.  I know something's on
your mind."

She stared at him for several moments, than she rubbed her upper arms and
looked away.  Finally she spoke, her voice soft and uneven.  "Was it really
because of your father that you wouldn't have anything to do with the ranch?"
Reco~nlzing the significance of her question,

was searching for verification, he watched her from the doorway.  "Yeah.
That was the real reason.  I knew he'd try to keep his hands on the rems, and
I wasn't prepared to spend the rest of my life fighting with him'."

Rubbing her arms again, she turned to the window, her body tense.  There was
a long pause, then she spoke again, her voice so soft he could barely hear
it.  "I didn't know

It was all Chase could do to remain where he was.  "Why did you think I took
off?"

She shook her head, then slipped her hands up the Sleeves of her robe.  Chase
waited, his belly in a knot.  It took her a while, but she finally answered.
"I thought it was because you were restless."  She hesita~l, then continued,
a touch of wry humor in her tone, "I thought you wanted to see the world ."
'~

The knots in Chase's gut suddenly let go, and he dragged his hand down his
face.  For the first time, he sensed they were really headed somewhere.
Massaging his eyes, he eased in a deep breath, then looked at her.  "I was
restless," he said huskily.  "But if I wanted to see the world, I would have
joined the Navy."

Devon turned and slid her hands into her pockets, and even in the shadowed
room, he could see the hint of a smile.  "You would have made a hell of a
sailor, McCall.  Except I don't think they would have liked your spurs."

He returned the smile, but he watched her like a hawk.  "It took you a while
to finish school, Slash, but I never forgot that you were here.  And I never
forgot where my roots were."

She looked at him, her eyes dark with doubts.  "But you moved your roots,
Chase.  You didn't come back."

Straightening, Chase closed the distance between them, never taking his eyes
off her.  "Would that have made a difference?  Would you have married me if
I'd stayed, Devon?"

Framed in the faint illumination from the window, she stared at him, her
expression stricken.  It was also the first time she'd ever let him see her
insecurity, and the knot in his gut eased a little more.  She had taken that
first step, and he couldn't ask for more, at least not right then.  Not
wanting to push her any further, he closed the distance, giving her a
reassuring smile as he framed her face with his hands.  "It's okay,
darling'," he whispered softly.  "The answer isn't important.  At least you
listened to the question."  He held her gaze for a moment, then lifted her
face and gave her a slow, comforting kiss.  He heard her breath catch, and
she gripped his wrists.

Tightening his hold, he moved his mouth ever so softly against hers, the
clean scent of her filling his senses.  Releasing an unsteady sigh, he
gathered her up in a secure embrace, tucking her head against the curve of
his neck.  He didn't say anything, he just closed his eyes and drew her
deeper into his embrace, his chest tightening.  You could walk around the
world, if you did it one small step at a time.

He waited until he felt the stiffness leave her body, then he eased his hold.
Hooking his arm around her neck, he drew her against him and turned toward
the bedroom.  Without him letting go of her, they negotiated the doorway into
the hall, then went into the bedroom.  Pausing by the bed, he lifted her head
and gave her another quick kiss, then reached down and undid the belt of her
robe.

He stripped off his jeans, then slid into the bed beside her, gathering her
up in another snug embrace.  Devon started to stroke him, but he caught her
hand 'and lifted it to his mouth, then held it immobile against his chest.
He waited until she relaxed in his arms, then he adjusted his hold.  For some
reason, it was suddenly important that they connect with the past.  Resting
his jaw against her head, he began fingering her hair.  "Do you remember the
time we went out to the ranch and rode up to that little box canyon south of
the creek?

She di~',t say anything for the longest time; then he felt her smile.  You
mean the time we got caught in that thunderstorm and you thought you lost
your wallet, and spent an hour looking for it?  "

He nodded and stroked her temple.  That time?  "

" Yeah.

"And by the time we got back to the truck it was dark!  ~!  and we found the
wallet on the dash, but the keys gone?"

He smiled and stared into the darkness, rememberingi "And we built a fire in
the old bunkhouse to get warm dry out our clothes, but you wouldn't stay the
night cause you were afraid the foreman would tell Dad if found out."

She laughed softly and adjusted her head on his shoulder.  "What I remember
is that you were pretty ticked off,

"I was ticked.  I was the one who had to go wake old Pete up so we could
borrow his truck."

There was a brief pause, one that was underscored with reminiscence; then she
spoke, her voice soft.  "We played poker for matches, and you told me about
the time you spent two days watching the herd of wild horses up in the high
country."

"God, but old Pete was mad when I woke him up to borrow his truck.  I spent
four days fencing to work that one off."

Another recollection filtered through the others, a very special
recollection, and he smiled a little, the details still crystal clear in his
mind.  He tightened his arm around her hip in an attention-getting hug.
"Dev?"

"Hrnm?"

He smoothed the thick fall of hair from her face.  "Did you ever have any
regrets about making love that first time?"

She shook her head.  "No.  Never."

"You were so damned young."

Her.  voice was laced with amusement when she responded.  "Yes, I was.  And
you were such a sweet talker, McCall.  I didn't stand a chance agaimt all
that virility and charm."

Chase grinned and gave her hip a lit He pinch.  "I wasn't charming,
Manyfeathers.  I was a desperate man."

"Yes," she said, her tone dry.  "I remember."

He gave her another lit He pinch, and she caught his hand, dragging his arm
around her waist.  He drew her closer, ab-sen fly rubbing his stub bled chin
against her hair.  "I also remember the first time I came back after I left."
He drew her even closer, brushing a soft, sensual kiss against her ear.
"Remember?"

                                      :

A shiver coursed through her, and she turned her head toward his caress, her
voice weak and breathless when she responded.  "Yes.  I member."

He'd never forget it.  He had been gone four months, and he had been on the
road for eighteen hours.  It was one in the morning when he hit town, but he
had headed straight to her house anyway.  He had parked around the block,
then walked down the back alley and ended up climbing in her bedroom window.
He'd been running so high in overdrive, and she had been so damned.  glad to
see him, they never even made it to her bed.  It had been one hell of a
homecoming.  The memory turned his pulse thick and heavy, and he closed his
eyes and trailed his mouth across her ear and down her fleck, his breathing
suddenly erratic.  Devon whispered his name and moved into his arms, and on a
deep, slow kiss, the darkness closed in around them.  And nothing else
mattered.  Nothing.

Chase stood at the kitchen counter clad only in his jeans, unshaven,
half-awake and feeling as cranky as a junkyard dog.  It was cold, it was
dark, and the fact that he hadn't got much more than three hours sleep the
night before didn't help his mood.  The darkness outside the window infused
the still house with a nighttime s'dence, and the loud hum of thei fridge
irritated him even more.  He must be getting old; he didn't function worth a
damn on three hours of sleep.  getting to the point that ff it was.  dark
outside, his body figured it should be in bed.

Thinking about the times when he and Keith had lady driven all night to make
a rodeo the following Chase scooped coffee into the basket, tossing in a tra.
He was going.  to be would he plan ling his face in the arena floor by
o'clock.

Sliding the basket into the coffeemaker, he set on the element and flicked
the switch.  If he was,

damned timer--this early-morning routine was a pain in the butt.

The jangle of the phone echoed shrilly in the silent house, and Chase
snatched it up before the second ring.  He glanced at the clock.  What idiot
would get on the phone at six o'clock in the morning ?

The call was from Colorado, and the idiot was his part her.

"What the hell are you doing, Ernie?  Or are you just trying to tick me off?"

There was a gravelly chuckle, and Ernie Bowman responded, "Hell, Chase.  The
day's half gone.  You must be keeping banker's hours up there."  -~

Chase lean6d against the' counter and eros seA his legs, a flicker of
amusement surfae'mg.  "What the hell do you know about banker's hours?"

There was another gruff chuckle.  "Not a damned thing.  I just rolled in from
Tulsa, so I thought I'd better give you a shout before I sack out here."

"So how was Tulsa?"

Ernie brought him up to date on what was happening as far as their rough
stock contracts were going, and Chase found an empty envelope in a stack of
papers on the counter and made notes.  He finished writing out the schedule
Ernie passed on, the receiver tucked against his shoulder.

Ernie gave him some other information, then paused, and Chase'heard him take
a deep drag on a cigarette before he continued.  "So that's about it as far
as the business is concerned.  When are you coming home?"

Chase finished writing down the dates, a small smile appearing.  Ernie was an
old bulldogger, and he still liked to take the bull by the horns.  Shifting
the receiver to the other ear, Chase got a mug out of the cupboard and poured
himself a cup of coffee.  "Why do you want to know?"

There was a brief pause; then Ernie responded, his tone sheepish.  "Ah, well,
I heard that George Bruce is thinking about shortening his string some, and
it's rumored around that he's going to retire Count Dracula.  I thought if
you got down here and twisted his arm just right, you might he able to get
him for us."

His expression sobering, Chase set the carafe on the element, a disturbing
sensation settling in his gut.  Count Dracula was a fourteen-year-old
stallion and one of the top buckers on the pro circuit.  He was a big
hammer-headed dun 'with the right kind of heart, and they'd had their eye on
him for a long time.  He might be retiring from the pro circuit, but they
didn't want him for that; he was exactly the kind of stud they were looking
for for their breeding program.  That program was as critical and as
carefully designed as the breeding program for top-stakes Thoroughbreds.
They were breeding winners, and that was the foundation of their continued
success.  And with Count Dracula, they would breed a few more.

But it wasn't the news about the horse that hauled him up short.  It was the
shot of hard, cold reality that went with it.  When he left, he'd told Ernie
two or three weeks.  His time was running out.

"You there, Chase?"

Chase exhaled hear fly "Yeah.  I'm here."  He considered his options, then
let out another sigh.  "Tell you what.  I'll give George a call from here and
see if we can work out a deal.  I'll let you know what's going on."

"Sounds good.  Talk to you later."

Chase hung up the phone, then stood staring at it for a minute, experiencing
a flicker of anger.  Not wanting to analyze its source, he picked up his mug
and went to stand in front of the window by the table, staring out into the
quiet i barnyard as he took a sip.  The wind had come up in the night, and
there were streamers 'of snowdrifts in the lane.  Luke would have to plow it
again.

"I thought I heard the phone ring."

Without turning, he answered her.  "You did.  It was Er He heard the scrape
of a chair, then the sound of her getting a mug out of the cupboard.  " Is
there a problem?  "

"No.  He just called to tell me about a stud we want for the breeding
program."  Chase finished off his coffee without looking at her, then set the
empty mug on the counter.  "I guess I'd better get a move on."

"Would you like some pancakes?"

Chase looked at her, his expression unsmiling.  She was watching him, an air
of uncertainty in her body posture.  There was an anxious, questioning look
in her eyes, but he knew that with all that had been going on between them,
she would never ask whether something was wrong.  She was too afraid he would
tell her.

He managed a small smile.  "Real pancakes?"

She gave a shrug, and he caught a trace of amusement in her eyes.  "That
depends on what you call real pancakes,

"I'm talking blueberries, buttermilk and whole-wheat flour."  '

"I'm talking paneal0e mix.  Take it or leave it."

He studied her, wondering how far he could push it.  Her expression said not
far.  He relented with a wry grin.  "I guess I'll take it."

She smiled, but it didn't go as far as her eyes, and she stared at him with
an odd kind of hesitancy.  The silence stretched between them, and just for
an instant he thought she was going to make a reference to what had happened
the night before.  But the moment passed, and 'he could feel her withdrawal
from across the room.  She abruptly turned away, her voice impassive when she
spoke.  "Do you want bacon?"

What Chase wanted was to shake her.  He picked up the envelope with the
information on it, his expression hardening.  "No.  I don't want bacon."
Pushing the chair out of the way, he strode out of the room.  What he wanted
was to get the hell out of the house before he said something he would regret.

Brealdast was eaten in a strained silence, and as soon as he finished, Chase
headed to the isolation of the lower barn.  He didn't want to see anyone, he
didn't want to talk to anyone, and he sure as hell didn't want to get on a
horse in the mood he was in.  The phone call from Ernie had yanked him up
short, but her sudden withdrawal in the kitchen had stopped him dead in his
tracks.  He felt as if he were standing in the middle of no-man's-land.

Chase had the horses fed and the stalls cleaned out and was fixing the }fig
push broom they used to sweep the concrete alleyway when Sam showed up.  The
older man stood in the doorway to the tack room, his arms folded as he
watched Chase wrap the thread on the handle with a thin strip of duct tape.
He didn't say anything for a moment, then spoke.  "Your pa's lawyer called.
Said he wanted to talk to you."

Using far more torque than necessary, Chase screwed the handle on the broom.
"Well, I don't want to talk to him."

 "Seems it's important."

Chase threw the roll of duct tape into the wooden toolbox, then rose.
Resting his hand on the broom, he looked at Sam, his expression harsh.  "When
it comes to my old man, it's always important."

Sam gave him a level gaze.  "Maybe you should talk to him, boy.  Sometimes
things aren't what they seem."

Chase stared at the trainer, then looked away and haled heavily.  He looked
down the row of box stalls, dusky quiet perforated by the sound of chickadees
He considered Sam's comment, then let go perated sigh.  "Mayhe you're right."

"He said he'd call back in fifteen re' mutes

it in the house, if you want.  " '~

Chase picked up the broom, balancing the weight in '?  h~

hand.  He shook his head.  "No.  I've got to go into tow ~:~

anyway.  If he does call back, tell him I'll stop by.  " :!?

Sam nodded, scratching his jaw.  "You planning on ?/

ing soon?  "

"As soon as I finish here."

"Would you mind stopping by the vet's?  We're running low on bute."

Coster Feldman had been Bruce McCall's lawyer for as long as Chase could
remember.  He was polished, smooth and politically well connected, and Chase
didn't trust him as far as he could chuck him.  His was in the first law
office that had been built in Bolton, somewhere around the turn of the
century, and Coster had spent a small fortune restoring it to its original
state.  The waiting room was furnished with early 1900s furniture--several
chairs and a walnut parson's bench--and in the corner by the window sat a
huge fern that looked like it had been there ever since the office opened.  A
dark oak spindled railing with a gate separated the waiting room from the
office area, and Chase's expression softened.  He had a sudden mental
flashback of his sister, Eden, swinging on that gate, her butt in the air,
singing to herself.

He touched the wood, then his expression altered, and he pushed the gate
open.  The secretary looked up from the computer, and Chase shifted his
weight onto one leg.  "Chase McCall.  I'm here to see Mr. Feldman."

Chase had half expected the attorney to pull one of his power plays and keep
him waiting, but the secretary rose immediately and ushered him toward the
back office.  The speed of his reception set off a dozen warning bells, and
Chase experienced the same rush he always got just before a chute gate swung
open and fourteen hundred pounds of horseflesh bunched beneath him.

His black Stetson in his hand, he stepped into the darkly paneled office, his
expression shuttered.  Coster rose immediately and.  smiled a politician's
smile, his string tie and Western-cut jacket somehow artificial.  He looked
as if he had just come off someone campaign trail--or was ready to hit one.
Like maybe his brother Milt's.

"Chase!  It's damned good to see you.  Welcome back."

Chase braced his feet in a gunslinger's stance, his jaw set at a determined
angle.  "Coster."

"Sit down, my boy.  Sit down!  I'll have Carla bring us coffee."

Chase remained standing.  He stared at the other man, his expression set.  "I
won't be staying long enough for coffee."

The smile faltered just for an instant.  "Well, now, why don't you have a
seat anyway and we'll talk"

"We don't have anything to talk about.  Whatever my old man's up to, he can
forget it.  I don't want anything to do with him."

A voice came from behind him.  "Still as bullheaded as ever, I see."

Chase turned, the muscles in his gut hardening.  He faced his father for the
first time in eighteen years.  One corner of his mouth lifted in ac old
sardonic smile.  "And you still like to operate behind a man's back."

His hand curling around an ivory-handled cane, Bruce McCall rose, his huge
frame hunched with age, his eyes still as piercing as a hawk's.  His hair was
completely white, and his face was leaner and etched with years of hard
dealing, but he still had the same aura of power.  He stepped forward, a
calculating glint in his eyes.  "It's time to bury the hatchet, boy.  You've
made your point."

Chase almost smiled.  "Glad to hear it."

Bruce McCall waved his hand at Coster in an impatient gesture.  "Go on.  Go
on.  Tell him the deal."

"The lawyer shuffled through some papers on his desk.

"We have the deed to the ranch here, and your father is prepared to sign it
over to you, lock, stock and barrel.  All?!  you have to do is agree to a
couple of terms that"

Chase cut him off, his tone fiat.  "I don't want it.  Give it to Milt or
Eden, or better yet, give it to Tanner."

Coster Feldman made a conciliatory gesture.  "Now Chase.  We're talking about
ten thousand acres of prime land."

"I don't care if we're talking about the whole damned province.  I'd rather
get in bed with a snake than do business with my old man."

Bruce McCall stepped forward, his face mottled with rage.  "Now just a damned
minute!  You aren't go' rag to stand there spouting that kind of crap.  That
ranch is worth a fortune, and you aren't going to turn your back on it.
You'll take it or I'll"

Chase met his father's gaze, a bitter smile appearing.  "Or you'll what?
Disinherit me?  Charge me with theft again?  Turn your back on me like you
did Tanner?  Screw up my life like you did Milt's?  Force me to leave horn~
like you did Eden?  What, old man?  What wffi you do to me?"

Coster Feldman stepped between the two men, raising his hand.  "Now, Chase.
There's no need to get hot under the collar.  Like your father said, it's
time to let bygones be bygones."

His fury controlled, Chase turned his gaze to the other man, another bitter
smile appea3-in.  g.  "So just what are the terms, Coster?  And just how many
strings are attached?"

The lawyer's gaze ~eked to the senior McCall; then he glanced at Chase, a
nervous tic appearing at the corner of his eye.  He offered a placating
smile.  "Now, Chase.  Let's be reasonable.  The Bar M has always been passed
on to the eldest son.  Besides, neither Milt or Eden would be... appropriate."

There was something in the lawyer's tone that caught Chase's attention, and
he paused, trying to figure out what it was.  An artificialness .  no, more
like an evasiveness.  His eyes narrowed, his gaze assessing, Chase studied
the attorney, and a tiny piece fell into place.  He smiled a dangerous smile.
"But I'm not the eldest son, Coster.  Or have you forgotten that?"

The attorney gave him another politician's smile and backpedaled.  "Eldest
legitimate son."

Chase folded his arms and rocked back on his heels," considering the man's
response.  His tone was ominously quiet when he spoke.  " But I don't think
that would really wash in court, do you, Coster.  * Or is that what this is
about.  " Reading the answer in the other man's evasive gaze, Chase looked at
his father.  He stared at him, his gaze cold and unyielding, a sneer in his
tone when he spoke.  " You might have disowned him, but I won't.  And neither
will Eden.  " He leveled his finger at his father, his voice ominously quiet.
" He's-my brother.  And you'd better never forget' that.  Ever.  "

Settling his hat on his head, he gave them one last, drilling stare, then
turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him.

Chase didn't let go of his rage until he cleared town; then he used speed and
recklessness and the rash of danger-induced adrenaline to override the fury
that threatened to explode with every turn of the wheel.  With anger ca~ ting
away at him, he swore savagely, so damned mad he could barely see straight.
Someday he was going to get to the bottom of this mess, but not now.  - Now
he had to clear his system or he would end up going back to town and beating
the hell out of his father and his damn lawyer.  One hell of a pillar of the
community, his old man.  It would be laughable, if it weren't so sick and
twisted.  Chase clenched his jaw, and the speedometer climbed.  Allhe wanted
to do was outrun the suffocating weight of pure, hot rage.

Chase parked his truck by the Circle S cook house, then leaned back in his
seat and stared out the window.  He wasn't too sure what he was doing here,
but he knew he was in no shape to go to Devon's.  It had taken two hundred
miles of hard driving before he was able to let go of some of the anger that
had clawed through him~ He should never have gone to see Coster.  He'd known
as soon as Sam told him the lawyer had called that his old man was up to
something, but he'd taken the bait anyway.  And once he'd cooled off a lit
tie, he realized that a good chunk of his anger was directed squarely at
himself.  He should have bloody well known better.  His father would go to
his grave trying to yank his strings.

The driver's-side door opened, and Cyrus Brewster stuck his head in.  "Are
you goin' to jest sit here staring, or are you goin' to haul your scrawny
butt in for some pie and coffee?"

Cyrus was in his late sixties, short and lean, with snapping eyes, a sweeping
white mustache and a droll perspective that Chase had always appreciated.  He
had been the foreman of his father's ranch when Chase was small.  Chase had
idolized him then, and he knew that Tanher's kids idolized him now.

Resting one arm on the steering wheel, Chase gave the cook a warped smile.
"It's nice to know I've graduated from milk and cookies, old man."

The cook studied him, a twinkle appearing in his eyes.  "Sounds like maybe
you haven't.  Got a bean up your nose, boy?  Or are you jest looking for a
dog to kick?"

Chase stared at the older man, then grinned and shook his head.  Tossing his
sunglasses on the dash, he climbed out of the track.  One of Tanher's border
collies bounded up, and he leaned down and scratched the dog's neck.  "Nah.
I think the dogs are safe."  His grin deepened.  "I hope I can say the same
for your pie and coffee."

The cook house smelled of baking bread and the cookies cooling on the
counter.  One thing, Tanner never had to worry about his hired hands going
hungry with Cyrus in the kitchen.  Chase dropped his hat on the old trunk
situated by the door, then pulled out a chair from the table and sat down.
He watched the older man select a pie from the glassed-in dessert rack and
slide it onto the counter.  Cyrus had been one of the best cowpokes in the
district in his day--dead steady on a horse, dead accurate with a rope and
probably possessed of more horse sense than all the other~ Circle S hands put
together.  But he'd turned in his saddle and spurs for a stove and ladies
when a horse went over backward with him fifteen years ago, damaging Cyrus's
back and hips.  He'd been ramrodding the Circle S cook house ever since, and
Chase still had to bile back a smile every' me he saw the old cowboy throw
together a meal.  Somehow or other, he still made it look as if he was out on
the open range roping steers.

Cyrus returned to the table with ~wo steaming mugs of coffee and two large
servings of blueberry pie, the eating utensils stuck in his shirt pocket.  He
set everything down, then dumped the cutlery on the table and pulled out a
chair.

He took the sugar bowl off the lazy Susan in the middle of the table, stirred
a spoonful into his' coffee then set the container back.  Cutting a piece of
his pie with the side of his fork, he spoke, his tone offhand.  "I expect by
the set of your chin that you've been to see your pa.,"

Chase looked up, his gaze riveted on the older man, then a small, wry smile
appeared.  He shouldn't be 'surprised.  Cyrus had always had an uncanny
ability to read his mind.  He stared at the cook for an instant, then cut
into his own pie.

There was a short silence; then CTms spoke again, the same casual tone in his
voice.  "Expect he's made another stab at getting you back up here, with your
feet planted in McCall ground."

Avoiding the cook's wily gaze, Chase washed the pie down with a swig of
coffee, then, set his .  m.  ug.  down~

his voice devoid of any expression.  That s a0out

"So what are you going to do, boy?"

"I wouldn't take that ranch if it was buried in gold."  Cyrus tipped his head
in silent acknowledgment, and nothing more was said until both plates were
empty.  Then the old man stirred his coffee and slid the spoon onto his
plate.  "I imagine that stuck in his craw some."

His arms on the table, Chase hunched over,ab~tJY twisting his coffee mug in
the ring of moisture.  Finany ue looked at the older man, his gaze solemn and
unwavering.  "I'd like to know why you left the Bar M, Cyrus."

Cyrus stared at him; then he, too, pushed his plate aside and leaned his arms
on the table.  Chase could tell by his solemn expression that he was
considering his answer.  The old man finally spoke, his voice gruff.  "I
can't tell you that, boy.  It wouldn't be fitting."

Chase studied him, his face unsmiling.  "It had some-' thing to do with
Tanner, didn't it?"

The cook released a heavy sigh, then nodded once.  "Yep.  It did.  But that's
between me and him, Chase.  It's not something to go digging around in."

Chase watched him for a moment, then looked down, rubbing his thumbnail
against the rough surface of the cup.  He knew that Tanner had been fourteen
when Burt Shaw took him in.  If both Burt and Cyrus wouldn't talk about it,
it had to be bad.  His gut tightened just thinking about it.  He took another
drink of coffee, then spoke, his voice even.  "I don't want anything to do
with that ranch, Cy.  Just on principle, if nothing else."

A glint of amusement twinkled in Cyrus's eyes.  "Well, now.  If you had as
much common sense as you did principle, you'd be a rich man."

The corner of Chase's mouth lifted a little.  "Yeah.  WEB."  Cyrus made a big
deal out of wiping some blueberry filling off the table, his tone just a
little too offhand when he asked, "How's things goto' at Sam's?"

Chase turned his head and looked at the other man, not fooled by the innocent
expression on Cyrus's face.  The corner of him mouth lifted a little higher.
"Things are go' rag fine."

The cook moved all the items on the lazy Susan and wiped off a scattering of
sugar.  "So how long are you stickin' around?"

Chase stared at the other man for a moment, then 1oolaxl at the table, his
expression fixed and sober.  "I don't know," he answered, his tone subdued.

There was a long pause, the hum from the clock on the wall the only sound
breaking the s'xlence.  Finally Cyrus spoke, his voice gruff.  "There's more
on your mind than your pa's finagling, ain't there?"

His elbows resting on the table, Chase stared at the space in front of him.
He considered the other man's question for several moments, then released a
long sigh.  "Yeah.  There

The old man's voice was gruff with recollection.

times life is a whole lot like a poker game, boy.

you get dealt a hand you don't like or ain't

But them's the cards you got, and you've gotta either: 'era, play '~m or lay
'era.  It ain't always easy to figure what's the smart thing to do.  " He
paused, then a trace of humor in his voice.  " And sometimes you take the
chance that's either goin' to make you or you.  "

Chase looked at Cyrus, a heavy feeling settling

He could see the sorrow in the other man's face, knew the cook was thinking
about the wife he'd lost years before.  He remembered the grief he'd see~
eyes.

Cyrus spoke again, his voice rough with emotion, his gruff with kindness and
solemn counsel.  'And you just gOtta bite the bullet and get out of the been
marking time for a lot of years now, time to get on with your life.  "

Chase swallowed hard and looked away,

tight against the sudden ache in his throat.  The old right.  He either had
to lay his cards on the table or of the game.  They couldn't go on the way
they were.  known it ever since he'dwalked out on his father.

Chapter 9

Chase lay on the leather sofa in Devon'S living room, his hands under his
head, watching the clouds through the picture window as they moved across the
slcY.  A chinook had blown in that afternoon, and the weather ~ad turned
balmy and mild, the sky, wide chinook arch tingO:l with pink from the setting
sun.  He listened to the sound of the shower, his attention fixed on the
moving clouds, ~ mind driftittg.  Sometimes he wondered if his life would
have been less complicated if he'd been more like his old man.

The shower shut off, and Chase came out of his reverie.  He'd come in while
she was in the bathroc~na, and he wasn't sure how to.  play that first
face-to-face confrontation.  He wondered how many of his decisions hac~
dramatically altered the course of his life.  The decision~ to leave Bolton
certainly had, but he wondered about other~rs.  He wondered what would have
happened if he'd stayed.  ]~n fact, he'd been ding some heavy-duty wondering
s'nice h~'d talked to Cyrus.

He heard the bathroom door open and he heard her go into the bedroom.  A few
moments later she entered the living room, her wet hair hanging down her
back, darkening the fabric of her deep red sweat suit.  Chase smiled a
little, remembering the very first time he'd seen her.  She had been wearing
red then, too, only her hair had hung down to her hips.  Nowit hung to her
shoulder blades.  She had aloof and exotic, with her almonds shaped eyes and
high: cheekbones, and he remembered how the sight of her hT~ stopped him
cold--as if he recognized her from another time.  He could clearly remember
thinking she was special.  That was one sentiment that hadn't twenty years.
He still thought she was special, couldn't imagine what his life would have
been her in it.

His throat suddenly tight, he spoke, his voice husky.

I was beginning to think you'd drowned in there.  "

She turned, her eyes widening with that startled doe of hers, then she gave
him a lopsided smile.  "I weren't planning on a hot shower."

He watched her, a peculiar soft feeling filling up his His hands still under
his head, he returned her smile.  I hope you weren't expecting me to make
supper.  "

She didn't miss the implication,

glimmer of humor appearing in her eyes.  A around her mouth, she sauntered
over to the sofa i loose-hipped way of hers and knelt down on the side him;
Bracing one hand on his chest, she gave him a soft, moist and deliberately
only takes twenty minutes for the water to heat whispered huskily.

She so seldom used female persuasion to it caught Chase by surprise, and he
mouth.  "You'd do anything for a meal, wouldn't

She softly brushed her mouth against his, the moistuess of the kiss making
his pulse erratic.  She bottom lip slowly--very slowly.  "You bet."

Opening his mouth beneath hers, Chase raised his head just enough to deepen
the kiss, resolutely keep' rag his hands beneath his head.  He wondered just
how far she was prepared to take this little bit of seduction.  She changed
the angle of her head, perfecting the seal of her mouth again.  qt his; then
she smoothed her hand down his chest, undoing the snaps on his shirt with
little flicks of her thumb.  Holdinghis head immobile with her other hand,
she deepened the kiss and pulled his shirt out of his waistband, then lightly
dragged her thumbnail across his nipple.  Chase jerked, her touch sending a
sharp current of sensation through him, and his heart went into overdrive
when she lightly rolled the hardened hub under her fingers.

He wanted to grab her and drag her on top of him, but her seduction was too
sweet, too rare, too arousing, to let go.  With a wild flurry of excitement
building in him, Chase tightened his muscles against her tormenting touch,
yielding his mouth to hers as she deepened the kiss.  Just as she strolaxi
the inside of his bottom lip with her tongue, she traded her fingernail down
the hard ridge of flesh beneath his fly, and the dual sensations nearly put
Chase through the roof.  His breathing turned heavy, and it took every once
of control he had to remain still and unmoving beneath her lightly exploring
hands and mouth.  She stroked the full length of his hard, thick arousal
again, and Chase sucked in a ragged breath, releasing a guttural sound
against her mouth when she trailed her nails between his legs and down the
semitive base.

Working her mouth slowly against his, she shifted slightly, then used both
hands to undo his belt.  Chase lifted his hips off the sofa, and she pulled
the belt free of the loops and dropped it on the floor, then slid her long
fingers beneath his waistband.  Her intimate touch electrified him, and he
lifted his head and drew her tongue deeply into his mouth, the pulsating
hardness in his groin nearly exploding as she carefully drew his zipper down.
With the same slow care, she freed him, and Chase abruptly ceased to
breathe.  Unable to remain passive one second longer, caught her by the back
of the head and ground his mouth hungrily against hers, heat searing through
him as she lightly smoothed her thumb over the moist, slick tip of his
arousal.

his breathing labored.  Her eyes oarlc ano heaVy-haut:u, full, sensual mouth
swollen from the urgency of h~s kiss, she was the temptress, the vixen, his
ultimate fantasy.  His hands circling her neck, he stroked the line of her
jaw with thumbs, her pulse frantic beneath the heels of his hands.  wanted
her naked on top of him, he wanted to deep inside her that he would become
part of her, wanted to let go of the heat that had him hard this was as far
as he could go.  The box of the drawer in the bedside table, and right then,
he sure he could stand up long enough to get it,

Still wishing she was naked on top of him, he drew face down and covered her
swollen mouth with a comforting kiss.  "I like the way you negotiate, Slash,"
whispered gruffly against her mouth.  "But a critical of equipment is still
in the bedroom."

He felt her take a deep, unsteady breath;

both his eyes closed.  "Don't move," she pulled free of his hold, and Chase
clenched his teeth the sharp sense of separation, the ache in heavier.
Resting one arm over his eyes, he not to feel.  He was at the point where a
single set him off, and the thought of sinking deep enough to send him over
the edge.

He heard her.  Then there was the brush of her spilling against his chest
when she leaned over and a soft, seeking kiss.  Chase let his breath go in a
and took her face between his hands, counterpoint to his as he took control
and plored her mouth.  She let him take what with an unsteady sigh, she drew
back.  He realized had taken off her sweat suit and wore only her

That Same OM Feeling and Chase brushed his knuckles against the swell of her
breasts.  He heard her breath catch, and she moved her hand down his torso.

Chase clenched his teeth and sucked in a deep breath when she took his hard,
pulsating flesh in her hand, stroking him with the lightest of touches.  Her
gaze locked on his, she stroked him again, and Chase's face contorted at the
sharp, intense pleasure that ricocheted through him.  Devon cupped him in
both hands, 'her eyes dilating, her pulse quickening, and Chase rose up on
one elbow and caught her behind the head, pulling her toward him.  She
resisted.  Moistening her lips, she held his gaze for an instant longer, then
looked down, His heart hammering like a wild thing in his chest, Chase
watched her as she put the condom in place, then slowly began to roll it
down, her touch soft and un, steady.  Chase thought his heart was going to
c~ome right through his chest as he watched her carefully sheath him, and he
gritted his teeth, need and want and a fever of desire reaching a flash
point.  The instant she had the protection in place, he caught her by the
back of the neck and rolled, carrying her to the floor beneath him.  Urgently
finding her mouth with his, he drew up her knees and roughly settled him~lf
in the cradle of her thighs.  Emitting a low groan, he entered her, his
awareness shattering into a sunburst of sensation.  Then he slipped into a
space where there was nothing except him and Devon--and driving urgency.

It took Chase a long time to come down after the earth' shaking climax.  And
it took him a long time before he could relax his urgent hold on her.  But
finally he was able to collect enough strength to ease back a lit He The
first two things that filtered through his consciousness were how fiercely
Devon was hanging on to him, and that she was trembling in his arms.
Shifting his hold on her, he lifted her hair out of the way, then
protectively cradled her face against his chest, his hand cupped at the base
of her neck.  He brushed a kiss against her hair, then rubbed his thumb along
her heated skin.  "Hey," he whispered unevenly.  "Are you okay?"

She nodded once, hugging him even fighter.  Chase smiled a little, then
kissed her again, a huge lump of tenderness jamming up in his chest.  He held
on to her for a moment longer, then tried to shift his weight, but she
gripped him.  "No."

Lifting a thick strand of hair from her damp neck, he tipped his head and
kissed her shoulder.  "The floor's cold, darling', and I've got you jammed
right up against the sofa."

Her chest rising on a deep, unsteady breath, she loosened her hold and cupped
the back of his head.  "I don't care."

Chase chuckled.  "Well, I do.  You'll get slivers in your butt from this wood
floor."  Not to mention the fact that their protection wouldn't be worth spit
in a few more minutes.

Devon tightened her hold and shook her head.  Not particularly hot on the
idea himself, Chase grinned and hugged her, then shifted his hold.  "Hang on,
then, da ding We're going to turn this act around."

It took a bit of effort and some undignified grunting, but he finally shifted
their positions so he was sitting on the floor, his back against the sofa,
with Devon straddling him.  She was still hanging on to him with her face
buried again at his neck, but he could feel her smiling.  He rubbed one hand
across her bare hips, nestling her closer.  "What?"  he queried softly.

She turned her head, kissing him just below his ear.  "That was pretty slick,
Slick," she answered, her voice husky.

Settling into a more comfortable position, he slid his hand under her robe
and up her back.  He rested his head against hers, a soft smile surfacing.
"You like that, huh?"

 "Uh-huh."

"How come I had to do all the work?"

She lazily stroked the back Of his neck.  "Because it was your idea.,

His smile deepened, and he stroked her hip again.  He h her for a few more
minutes, then kissed the curve of her j~ "You better lift up, b~be," he
whispered against her sk She~ained unmoving, and Chase tightened his hold
her, experiencing a rush of tenderness.  He could stay !  this forever,
buried deep inside her, her body soft and' ant against Ilia.  And he would be
happier than hell if he her pregnant.  But his conscience wouldn't let go.

He smoothed his hand across her firmly muscled ba then gave her a little
squeeze.  "Come on, babe," he s gruffly.  "We're going to be in big twuble
here if we stay this."

She released a long sigh, then reluctantly stirred braced her weight on her
knees.  Loath to do it, Chase tig ened his hold on her and withdrew, pressing
a kiss again her neck when she drew a sharp breath.  He gave her a n-ute to
adjust; then he shifted his hips under her.  Closing eyes, he slowly rubbed
her back, a deep, tranquilizing c tentment spread' rag through him.  He
didn't want to th about anything right now.  Not about his father, not ab
Ernie, not about what he was faced with.  He just wanted~ try to get his fill
of holding her.

Chase smiled to himself when, moments later, he felt go slack in his arms,
and her breathing became slow even.  He reached behind him and snagged the
Mexi~ blanket from the far end of the sofa, then wrapped it arol her.  His
throat suddenly tight, he gathered her damp and pulled it free, then
tightened his arm a pounds und her Taking a deep, uneven breath, he rested
his head aga hers, wishing he knew-how to say all the things that nee to be
said.

Twilight slowly infiltrated the room, and the western rizon slowly sucked the
color from the sky, leaving mountains a ragged purple silhouette.  With Devon
asleq his arms, Chase watched the changing landscape, hisb growing stiff.
One leg was developing a serious cramp, he shifted slightly, trying to ease
the strain.

Her breath feathered against his neck, and she spoke, her.  voice thick with
sleep.  "So, Slick.  Does that get me supper or not?"

Smiling at her quirk of coming awake without any warning, Chase turned his
head and kissed her temple.  His tone gruff, he responded, "I'll have to
think about that."

Devon stirred in his arms, turning her head so their mouths connected.  "I'll
give you a back rub," she negotiated, her tone still husky with sleep.

Chase closed his eyes and tightened his hold, a knot of raw emotion climbing
up his throat.  He waited for the aching contraction to ease, then he spoke
the words he hadn't risked speaking for a very long time.  "Do you know how
much I love you, Manyfeathers?"

She went stock-still in his arms, then she lifted her head and looked at him,
her eyes wide, her expression transfixed by a host of emotions.  Chase took
her face between his hands, his expression strained as he held her gaze.
"Marry me, Dev.  I want us to get married and have some kids and make a home.
I want to stop this craziness."

Devon stared at him, unmoving, unbelieving, uncertain.  Tightening his hold
on her face, he took a deep, breath and gave her a little shake, then spoke,
his voice catching.  "Marty me."

She stared at him for an instant; then her eyes filled with tears, and she
hugged him like there was no tomorrow.  His throat closed up completely, and
Chase shut his eyes and turned his face against her, hugging her back.  Maybe
there was still room for miracles.  Maybe.

Trying his damned eat to get rid of the big lump in his throat, he ran his
hand up her spine.  "You gotta know I love you, Slash.  You've been my girl
since you were eleven years old."

She made a sound that was somewhere between laughter and tears, and she
hugged him even harder.  "I've missed you so much.  So damned much."

Wrapping his arms right around her torso, he totally ve loped her and turned
his face against the soft skin Of neck.  Feeling lighter than he could ever
remember feel he gave her a tight squeeze and whispered against her s "Do you
know how bad I wanted to get you pregnant?

Devon gave a shaky laugh and tipped her head against "Then why do we have
half a drugstore in the bedroom

He grinned and kissed the tight cord in her neck.  " cause I'm a nice guy,
Manyfeathers."

She moved her hips slowly and sensually against i "Yes," she whispered
huskily.  "You are.,"

Liking her double-barreled answer a whole lot, C~ chuckled and dropped his
arms around her hips.  "And I thought you just wanted me to make supper.  Now
ye trying to.~tir up something else."

Laughing softly, Devon lifted her head and looked at 1 her gaze bright with
laughter and love.  "You're disg

Chase gazed at her, loving the sparkle in her eyes, 1, her.  His expression
altering, he reached up and sl~ dragged a thick tendril of hair over her
shoulders, his t soft' and seductive.  "Tell me you love me, Der," he r
muted.  "It's been a long time, and I need to hear yot the words."

She stared at him, her expression altering.  He kne~ was asking her to do
something.  that had never been ca~ her.  In all the time they'd spent
together, for all ~ meant to each other, she had only said those words !
times.  And now he was asking her 'to say them a~ Hooking his knuckles under
her chin, he lifted her face coaxed her with a gentle smile, his touch slow
and pro, ing.  "Say it," he commanded softly.

She tried to swallow; then lears appeared, and she 1o~ at him, her heart in
her eyes.  She drew a shaky breath,~ spoke, her gaze steady and unguarded.
"I love you, Cha she whispered unevenly.  " You're my spirit.  " With'
glistening in her long lashes, she touched his face with nite gentleness,
then leaned forward and kissed him, whispering against his mouth.  " You know
I love you.  "

His throat thick and his chest chock-full of emotion, Chase caught her by the
back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he opened his mouth
beneath hers, taking all that she offered.  She gave him what he wanted; then
she pressed her hand again~ his face and eased away.  "Let's go to bed," she
whispered.  .  It was going on eight o'clock by the time they made it to the
kitchen for supper.  Devon had put the red sweat suit back on, and she looked
mussed and thoroughly sated and as soft as velvet.  She sat on one of the
kitchen chairs, her knees drawn up and her arms locked around them, watching
him as he made omelets.  Chase whisfied while he effi-dently whipped up the
meal.  Flipping the omelets, he turned down the heat on the burner, then
glanced at her, amusement ~ckering through him.  She looked like a pampered
and lazy cat, sitting there with her chin propped on her upraised knees, her
black hair a wild tangle around her face, just waiting for him to 'feed her.
"You're taking a lot for granted, aren't you?"

She gave him her half-asleep attention.  "What do you mean?"

He checked the omelets, then leaned against the coun~r and folded his arms.
"I mean that you expect me to feed you."

She watched him, that same sleepy, sa~'tisfied look on-her face.  He caught a
glint of amusement in her eyes, and her mouth lifted a little.  "You're the
one who learned to cook,.  Slick.  So don't blame me."

He watched her, liking the way she held his gaze, liking the intimacy of the
smile in her eyes.  "You're a piece of work, you know that?"

She didn't say anything; she just continued to give him that drowsy smile.
He wondered if she had any idea what a hell of a mess her hair was in.  She'd
had it combed when she first came out of the bathroom, but now it looked as
if it had been styled with an eggbeater and dried in a wind tunnel.  It was
hard not to notice.  But then, her hair wasn't all he'd noticed.  He had also
noticed that she hadn't actually said yes to him marriage proposal.  He
remembered one old mare he had.  Wouldn't go through a gate--she would balk
and throw a fit every time.  She was a top bucker on the circuit, but she
hated corrals, and as far as that old rodeo queen was concerned, every gate
led to one.  When Chase finally won a battle and got her to.  go through one
leading to the pasture, the old mare had stood there, quivering and confused.
It was as though it had finally sunk in that there was all that freedom on
the other side.  Devon was a lot like that old mare; all he had to do was get
her through the gate.  "Why are you smiling?"

He continued to watch her, his amusement deepening.  He wondered what she
would do if he told her.  "I was just thinking how you balk at gates,
Manyfeathers.  That's all."

 "I don't know what you're talking about, McCall."

"I know you don't."  He turned to the stove and switched off the burner.  "He
would deal-with her gates later.  " Put your feet on the floor, Slash.
Supper's ready.  "

They ended up eating their supper in front of the fire in the living room,
sitting on the floor, shoulder to shoulder, with t~ir backs braced on the
sofa.  They talked about the horses Devon had worked that day, they talked
about training, but they didn't talk about them.  Chase didn't mind marking
time; he knew how Devon shied away from openness.  He'd got her to say she
loved him.  Now all he had to do was get her to say yes.

He polished off his omelet and set his plate aside, then took a long swig of
beer.  Resting the bottle on his thigh, he glanced at Devon.  He smiled when
he saw the thoughtful frown on her face and the way she was pushing the ~
a~ain-ing food around on her plate: She clearly had something on her mind.

Chase drained the bottle and set it aside, then di~ up one leg and rested his
arm across his knee.  And waited.

It was as though his stillness had telegraphed itself to her, and Devon
abruptly put her fork down and slid her plate onto the coffee table, as if
she was getting rid of the evidence of her nervousness.  Chase could tell she
was wres-fling with something, and he simply waited her out.

Her expression strained, she rubbed away a mark on the leg of her sweat suit.
Finally she spoke.  "Sam told me that your dad's lawyer called and that you
went into town to see

"I did."

She shot him a quick glance, then averted her gaze; again picking at the mark
on her pants.  "What happened?"

His arm still draped across his upraised knee, Chase continued to watch her.
It was the second time in years, s'nice the day she'd told him she wouldn't
marry him, that she'd initiated any conversation about his father.  Another
step.  That one small gesture touched him like little else had.  He waited
for the feeling to ease; then he spoke, his voice gruff.  "My old man was
there."

Devon's gaze was riveted on him, and she stared at him, he~ eyes registering
her alarm.  Chase gave her a small, crooked grin.  "Nice, huh?"

She stared at him, her expression intense.  "What happened?"

Chase shrugged and looked away.  "He had the papers all drawn up to sign the
Bar M over to me."

"Oh."

Chase glanced at her, wondering about the funny inflection in her voice.  She
had her hands wedged between her thighs, and he could sense the tension in
her.  And a trace of fear.  She looked so damned vulnerable, and so
uncertain.  She looked so much like the young, uncertain girl he remembered,
and he simply reacted.  Pushing his plate out of the way, he slid one arm
behind her back and caught her across the thighs, pulling her legs across
his.  His fingers snagging in her unbraided hair, he pressed her head again~
his shoulder, then wrapped her up in a strong, secure e~ brace.  She closed
her eyes, and he heard her swallow.  Cha shifted his hold.  Spanning her jaw
with his hand, he fipl~ her face up and brushed a soft, reassuring kiss
agsinst mouth.  "You are going to put me out of my misery a marry me, aren't
you, Manyfeathers?"  he whispered Idly.

Sliding her arms around his back, she hugged him hm and Chase closed his eyes
and hugged her back.  "Come c babe," he said, his voice gruff and uneven.
"All you hi to do is say yes."

She tighl~ed her hold and pressed her face against ] neck.  He felt her chest
expand, like a diver about to plun off a high precipice, "Yes," she
whispered, so softly that could barely hear her.  She took another deep
breath, th tightened her hold even more.  "Yes."

Chase turned his face into the s/lky tangle of her ha/r, arms tightening
around her torso, the wrench of emotion profound that he felt as if something
huge had opened' inside him.  God, but it had finally come together for the
Finally.

It took a long time before he could ease his crushing he the fullness in his
chest almost more than be could hani Drawing an uneven breath, he caught her
by the back of~ head and pressed a kiss against the soft curve of her Devon
clutched him, and he realized that she was even shaken than he was: Softening
his hold just a little, he her a quick hug, trying to comfort her.  "You sure
as take your sweet time coming up with the right 'ans~ Manyfeathers.  I was
beginning to think I was permanen out of the race."

She emitted a shaky laugh and gave him a light squee "You were never out of
the race, McCall.  You're one of~ most persistent people I know."

He grinned and gave her another quick kiss.  "Damr good thing I am.  You're a
hard filly to comer."

She responded with a poke, and Chase grinned again, knowing full well that
she hated those kinds of horse references.  Giving her another firm hug, he
rested his head against hers, experiencing a lightness that made him feel
nearly indestrucl~31e.  He had finally run her to ground, and she had said
yes.  Experiend~ another surge of emotion, he closed his eyes and took a deep
breath.  He smoothed his hand up the full length of her back, molding her
more snugly again at him.  "So," he said gruffly, "are we going to make a
bunch of babies?"

She abruptly turned her face against his neck and tightened her hold, and he
felt her chest expand unevenly against him.  Cupping his hand under her jaw
to nestle her head closer, he felt her swallow hard; then she nodded.
Affected by her emotional struggle, Chase drew her deeper into his embrace
and rested his cheek against the top of her head.  "I do love you, Dev," he
said huskily.  "And I'm going-to spend the rest of my life making you believe
that."  With all the gentleness he could muster, he lifted her head so he
could see her face.  She had her eyes tightly closed and her jaw clenched,
but in spite of her battle to hold everything in, tears seeped out from
beneath her lashes.  His throat tight, he bent his head and kissed her face.
"Just know that, okay?"  he whispered gruffly.

Her throat worked, and she nodded once, then tried to turn her face against
his shoulder.  Chase maintained his hold, stroking the angle of her jaw with
his thumb.  "Look at me, babe."  He felt her try to swallow again, then she
opened her eyes and looked at him, the shimmer of tears adding a
heart-wrenching vulnerability to her raw emotion.  And for the first time she
allowed him to see exactly what she was feeling.  He wiped away the tears and
smiled softly, his throat cramping.  "You'd better speak up here, Slash, or
I'm going to set a figure for all those babies that might scare the hell out
of you."

She gave a shaky laugh through her tears, and he gazed at her.  Tightening
his hold on her face, he lowered his head and kissed her, closing his eyes
when she opened her mouth and responded.  Chase put all the tenderness, all
the caring he felt for her into that slow, languid kiss, and finally the
tension in her body eased, and she relaxed in his arms.  Releasing an uneven
sigh, Chase slowly withdrew, watching her come out of the sensations that
kiss aroused, her lips moist and parted.  R~'lsting the urge to take her
under again, he brushed her hair with the backs of his fingers, smiling into
her eyes when she finally opened them and looked at him.  "How does an even
dozen strike you?"

She stared at him, then gave him one of her dry, amused looks.  "Excessive."

He grinned at her.  "I don't know.  I kind of like the thought of a bunch of
babies lined up like a carton of eggs."

Straightening in his embrace, she gave him another dry look.  "They're my
eggs, McCall, and you aren't getting a dozeR."

"I see."

"I'm glad that you do."  She turned so she was straddling his legs, then
leaned down and gave him a soft, lingering kiss.  "But I'd settle for four,"
she murmured, licking his bottom lip.

Chase grinned against the softness of her mouth.  "Four, huh?  So if we work
fast, we could get 'em here before I turn forty."

"You're never going to be forty, Slick.  You're always going to be a big
kid."  She took his face in her hands and did some 'mcredl'ble things to his
mouth.  "And lack of speed has never been your problem."

His arms settling loosely around her hips, Chase let her explore and taste,
reciprocating in kind, amusement warring with arousal.  Lord, but she could
turn him on.  Realizing where all this was headed if he didn't put the brakes
on, he massaged her hips and reluctantly drew away.  She sat astride him, her
arms resting on his shoulders, her tangled hair a wild tumble around her
face.  She looked soft, sensual and sexy as sin.

Smiling into her eyes, he gently tucked her hair back from her face, then
touched the lobe of her ear.  "We've got some talking to do," he said, his
voice low and husky.  "And if we keep this up, we're going to get
sidetracked."

She gazed at him," her eyes dark and slumberous, her mouth still moist from
their kisses, and Chase's pulse skittered and caught.  He wondered if he
would ever get enough of her.

Devon's gaze shifted to his mouth, and she wiped it dry with her thumb, then
leaned down and moistened it again.  "All you want to do is talk."

Chase gave a huff of laughter against her mouth, then pulled away.  He leaned
back and wedged his hands under her bottom, shaking his head slightly.  "God,
you just don't know when to quit, do you, Manyfeathers?"

She gave him a slow half smile that was a come-on if he'd ever seen One, but
there was a glint in her eyes that wasn't at all sensual.  She rubbed the
back of his neck with her fingers, sending a tingle of sensation down his
spine.  "You're such a baby," ~ she scolded huskily.

Chase grinned and shifted her hips forward.  "So we're back to babies, are
we?"

A sparkle of amusement appeared in her eyes, and she tipped her head to one
side.  "I guess we are."

Rubbing his thumbs against her hipbones, he maintained unwavering eye
contact.  "So when can I get any ring on your finger?"

She gave him a lopsided smile.  "When do you want?"  "Tomorrow."

She laughed and leaned down and gave him another quick kiss.  "Always quick
out of the chute, aren't you?"

"You bet."

Lacing her hands together behind his neck, she studied him, her gaze turning
solemn.  "I do love you, Chase," she said quietly.

He had never doubmdit.  It had always been a matter of how far she was
willing to go with it.  He gave her hips a little squeeze.  "I know you do,
Der," he responded gruffly.  "It's always been a matter of working it out."

She looked down and ran her finger along his collarbone, her expression
serious and a little pensive.  Releasing a long sigh, she slid off his lap
and sat cross-legged on the floor beside him.  She toyed with a fmyed thread
on the cuff of her sweat suit, the light from the fire casting flickering
shadows across her face.  Finally she spoke, her voice quiet.  "How do you
feel about the business with the Bar M?"

Chase drew up his knee and studied her, his expression thoughtful.  She was
finally talking, but he wasn't sure where the conversation was headed.  "I
feel fine about it.  Why?"

She looked up, an odd, perplexed look flickering across her face.  "Are you
going to be okay with it?"

Chase continued to study her, a funny feeling uncoiling in his belly.  His
eyes narrowed in contemplation, he didn't say anything for a moment, then he
spoke, an edge to his tone.  "I'm not taking the deal, Devon.  Running the
Bar M under my father's thumb is not my bag--never has been' and never will.
I thought you knew that."

She stared at him, and even in the dim light he could see alarm in her
expression.  She held his gaze for a moment; then she swallowed and looked
away.  "I thought maybe you'd move your operation up here."

The uneasy feeling in Chase's gut intensified, and his expression tightened.
Working very hard at maintaining his relaxed posture, he responded, "It's
n~of just my operation, Dev.  I have a parmer, and Ernie did time for
aggravated sault.  That's one reason we settled in Colorado--because he
couldn't get a work visa in Canada with a criminal record," "So you're not
coming back here?"

"I have no way of making a living here.  And there's no way I'd get into
anything with my old man.  I'd probably end up in jail for aggravated assault
if I did,"

Her head bent, she again plucked at the loose thread, rolling it between her
fingers.  "Mayhe it wouldn't be that bad now."  Annoyance flaring in him,
Chase abruptly rose and went to stand in front of the window," his heart
hammering in his chest.  Bracing his arm on the window frame, he stood
staring out at the darkened landscape, trying to get a grip on all the
feelings that were churning through him.  Forcing himself to let go of the
tension in his body, he spoke, his voice fiat.  " Don't kid yourself, Devon.
He hasn't changed.  And neither has my mother.  They'd make our life a living
hell.  " He turned and looked at her, his expression harsh."

"Do you have any idea what it would he like for our kids?   My mother has a
thing about haft-breeds, and you can be damned sure it wouldn't make any
difference if they were her grandkids or not.   They'd be treated the same
way Tanner was, and believe me, it wasn't pretty."

Devon stared at him, her expression stricken.  She held his gaze for a
moment; then she looked down, and Chase knew that he'd dealt her a dirty
blow.  He turned and stared out the window, hating him~lf for doing that to
her, hating the fact that he'd had to do it to make her see what it would be
like, angry with her for backing away just when he thought they'd put
everything together.  He released a heavy sigh and stuck his hands in the
backs pockets of his jeans, then spoke, his tone softening just a little.  "I
have to be my own man, Devon.  I thought you understood that.  And even if I
could work things out with my old man, I still wouldn't feel right taking
over the Bar M.  If that goes to anyone, it should be Tanner.," His
expression reflective, he reached out and pressed a loose window molding in
place.  "I guess I figured that after all we've been through, you'd be
willing to come with me," he said, his voice very quiet.

When she made no response, he turned, staring across the room at her.  She
sat with her legs drawn up, her arms locked around them, her forehead resting
on her knees.  He watched her for a moment, then spoke, his tone still quiet.
"Now that I've told you where I'm coming from, I think maybe it's time you
leveled with me, Devon."

She-~ained nnmoving for a moment, then she lifted her head and stared into
the fire, her face stark and expressionless.  Silence stretched between them,
and Chase wearily massaged his eyes with one hand, his other resting on his
hip.  Lord, was anything ever easy with her?

Releasing another heavy sigh, he raised his head and fixed his gaze on her.
"Devon?"  he prompted.

Without looking at him, she gave a elk~mi.  ~ve little shrug.  Chase wailed
her out, and as if realizing he wasn't going to let it go, she finally
answered.  "It wouldn't work," she said, her voice strained and uneven.

"Why?"  She gave another little shrug, and Chase's per flared.  "Damn it,
Devon!  At least give me the courtesy of an honest answer.  You're not
hanging me out to dry without some kind of explanation."

She shot him a sharp glance, then she turned back to the fire, her jaw set.
"So I'm just supposed to walk off and leave Sam high and dry--after all he's
done for me?  Is that it, Chase?"

His expression grim, Chase looked away, trying to ~in in his anger.  He
wailed a minute, then looked at her and spoke, his tone level.  "You know
damned well that Sam's ready to call it quits.  He said as much to me.  So
don't use that as an excuse, Devon.  It won't wash."

Even in the faint light, he could see her react, and she gripped her legs
even fighter.  She was clearly shaken, but she held it together, a bleak,
determined set to her' profile.  She swallowed hard, then spoke, her voice
unsteady.  "Even if that is the case, what I do is here."

Chase watched her, a sick feeling unfolding in his belly.  She hadn't been
aware of Sam's feelings about the business; that was pretty damned obvious.
But what made it even worse was that he'd stripped away a piece of her pride
by dropping it on her the way he had.  He had never in tended to hurt
her--but he had.  Exhaling heavily, he tried to put things right.  "You could
train down there.  You've built a big enough reputation that your customers
are going to follow you."

She 1ook~t at him, a wounded look flickering in her ey~ "And just how am I
going to do that?  I don't have treaty status.  So that means I'd have to get
a work permit.  First of all I'd have to find a trainer who'd want to hire
me--one who would be prepared to go through all that hassle with immigration."

"We could build our own business down there."

"Do you have an arena?  Do you have the necessary stall space?  Do you have
room for the extra hired help we'd need?"

Chase glared at her.  "Damn it, Devon.  Quit throwing up a bunch of stupid
roadblocks.  I said we could build our own business.  That means from the
ground up, if we have to."

She came to her feet in an agitated rush, and he saw the shimmer of tears in
her eyes.  "Stupid roadblocks?  This is my life, Chase.  It's not something
that can be taken apart and put back together on a whim."

Frustration boiling over in him, Chase closed the dis-rance between them.
"What do you think I'm going to do?  Take you down there and dump you, then
take off?"

She stared at him, an awful, stricken look in her eyes, her arms clutched in
front of her, and something hard and cold settled in the pit of Chase's
stomach.  He stared at her, then turned his head away and clenched his jaw in
disgust.  After all thi.  ~ time, he had never put it together until now.
And he didn't like it one damned bit.  He turned to her, his expression
rigid.  "You don't trust me," he stated flatly.  "That's what this is all
about, isn't it?"

She seemed almost frozen in place, her eyes wide and wounded, and he looked
away and shook his head, his disgust compounding.  He waited until he got a
grip on the feelings budding inside him, then he faced her again.  "I'm not
your mother, Devon," he said flatly.  "I'm not going to walk off and abandon
you, for God's sake."

She never said a word.  She just stood there, huddled in the warmth of her
arms, but he saw the answer in her despairing eyes as clearly as if sl/e'd
spoken.  But you did.

Chase stared at her, then shook his head and gave her a cold smile.  So this
was it.  There warn't a damn thing left for him to say.

Chapter 10

Stripped down to his shirtsleeves, his clothes damp with sweat, Chase stacked
bales with the speed and precision of a robot, the ache in his shoulders
turning hot and sharp.  He wasn't going to think.  He'd come out here to the
hay shed determined not to, us' rag hard physical labor as a vent for the
undercurrent of bitterness that kept trying to pull him under.  He'd got
dressed and slammed out of the house after his big revelation the night
before, and in another lifetime he probably would have got roaring drunk and
picked a fight.  But instead, he'd spent half the night driving down dark
country roads, not wanting to acknowledge the sense of betrayal that was
burning a hole in his gut.  She didn't trust him.  He had never once
suspected that she just didn't trust him.  She might as well have stabbed him
in the back.

Sweat blinded him, and he stopped and yanked off his doeskin gloves, then
pulled a bandanna out of the back pocket of his jeans and wiped his unshaven
face.  Stuffing the bandanna in his pocket, he tipped his head back and
hooked his hands on his hips, trying to ease the burning tension in his
shoulders.  God, he hurt.  From the inside out.

Exhaling heavily, he straightened, his expression rigid as he pulled his
gloves on, the coldness inside the shed penetrating his sweat-dampened shirt.
Ignoring the pain in his shoulders, he picked up another bale and swung it
into place, his muscles taut and burning.  He'd probably moved half a ton of
hay that morning.  And it wasn't helping.

The hay shed was closed in on three sides, but the open end faced east, the
wide opening catching the rays of the sun, the climbing dust motes o-eating a
shimmering scrim-like haze between Chase and the outdoors.  A big gray barn
cat malerialized through the nonexistent barrier, like a shape coming through
a wal~fall, and Chase rested his hands' on his hips, caught for an instant by
the dreamlike effect.

The cat wound itself around his legs, and he stooped and lifted it onto a
bale that was standing in the sun, rubbing it under the chin.  "Looking for a
little spot of sun, are you, old girl?"

The cat arched its back, then sat and began washing its face.  She was fat
with kittens, and Chase experienced an unaccountable thickness in his chest.
H'm jaw tighlmaing, he began heaving more bales into place.

"I've been looking for you, McCall."

He set another bale in place, then turned, meeting Sam's obvious agitation
with an impassive expression.  "What's the problem?"

Sam came over to him, his face mottled with barely controlled rage, his eyes
hard as steel.  He jabbed Chase in the chest, his expression hostile.  "I
don't know what the hell you've been up to, but I'll tell you, I've got one
upset girl out there.  She's trying to load six horses for that damned
training clinic she's supposed to give today, and she looks like she's ready
to fall apart."  He jabbed Chase in the chest again, his fury making him
tremble.  "You blow into town, tear up her life, then blow out again.  I
thought maybe this time you'd come to your senses, maybe you would finally
make an honest woman out of her.  But damn it, it's just like every other
time, only she's in worse shape than ever."

The older man flung a bale out of his way as if it weighed nothing, then
paced back and forth, fury radiating from him in waves.  His face stiff and
expressionless, Chase watched and waited, not even trying to mount a defense.

Sam turned to him and leveled an accusing finger, the loose skin at his neck
quivering.  "You've been screwing up her life for too long, and I won't have
it.  She was seeing Jeb Cranston for damned near two years.  Two years.  And
she was an inch away from marrying him, but then she goes to Vegas and runs
into you.  I knew the minute she pulled into the yard that you'd showed up
again.  She deserves a home and a family--she doesn't deserve you sniffing
around like some damned dog.  Why don't you clear the hell out once and for
all so she can get on with her life?  It ain't right."

Chase stared at him, his expression fixed and controlled; then, without a
flicker of emotion, he picked up his jacket from one of the bales.  He gave
Sam one last look, then turned toward the opening.  He answered, his voice
flat, '"It'll take me a couple of hours to round up my things."

It had taken him a lot of years to learn how to shut down and disconnect.
But he had learned the lesson well.  Disconnection was a little like riding a
bronc.  A good rider had to empty his mind of everything except sticking on,
of holding on against every slick trick that old horse might throw at you.
You had to focus.  Focus.  And it wasn't until the ride was over that the
pain from a hundred old injuries would surface.  This wasn't much different.
He had to empty his mind.  He had to stay focused.

Only this time there would be no eight-second horn to end the ride, no pickup
man to get him off.

Sunlight glinted off the melting drifts of snow, the chatter of a flock of
chickadees echoed in the clear still air, and off in the distance, Chase
heard a door slam.  The road to the bale shed was sheltered by a high,
densely overgrown caragana hedge, and when he came around the end of it, he
saw the familiar midnight blue rig backed up to the big doors at the south
end of the arena.  The truck was running, the driver's door ajar, and Chase
could hear music co~ing from the radio inside, but the cab was empty.  The
horse wailer rocked slightly, and there were sounds of horses shifting
around, but it was the peculiar stillness that caught his attention.  His
jacket clutched in his hand, he stopped walking and massaged his eyes, an
asty feeling settling in his gut.

F.  xbaling sharply, he clenched his jaw and swore, then angrily tossed his
jacket onto the hood of the track and went around to the back.  Luke and Anne
were both standing on the concrete apron in front of the big overhead door of
the arena, looking confused and uncertain and more than a lit-He helpless.  A
big roan stallion fidgeted on the end of a lead line, his sleek body
quivering, a nervous lather forming on his haunches.  Devon stood with her
back to them, her elbow braced on the off corner of the tCailer, coveting her
eyes with her hand.  "The air was brittle with tension, and Anne looked as if
she was on the verge of tears;

Chase knew in a glance what had happened.  The roan was one hell of a horse,
but he was a rank loader--in fact, that was one of the reasons his owners had
him at Silver Springs.  Devon had trained him, and the stud had won nearly
everything there was to win in pleasure and Western reining, but loading him
was another story altogether.  They had worked with him for two weeks, and
the last few times, he'd gone in with a minimum amount of hassle.  But
obviously all that work had just gone to hell.

Chase released aweary sigh, then looked at Luke.  '"Just leave him and get me
that can of molasses, then both of you get lost, okay?"

Luke gave him a relieved look and nodded, handing the lead line to Chase.
"You got it."  Chase waited until the two of them entered the arena, then led
the stallion away from the trailer.  It only took a few minutes for the horse
to settle, then Chase led him over to the trailer.  The roan started to balk,
and Chase murmured to him, coaxing him along with the sound of his voice.
Luke had set the container of molasses on the bumper, and Chase picked it up,
un-screwed the top, then scooped up a handful of snow.  There was an old saw
about catching more flies with honey than with vinegar, and it was one that
sometimes worked on horses.  It was a trick Chase wa~~'t sure either Sam or
Devon would approve of, but right then, he really.  didn give a damn.  All he
wanted to do was get the horse in the trailer before everything fell apart.

Chase poured a small amount of molasses on the snow, then held it under the
horse's noae.  The roan didn't hesitate.  Chase let the horse lick the snow
from his glove; then he unmapped the shank and crouched down.  And the horse
lowered his head.  Once the stud had the scent, Chase poured a thin trail of
molasses along the snow and up the rubber-matted surfaced of the ramp, then
poured a healthy amount over the hay flake in the feeder in the trailer.
After screwing the cap on the can, he set it on a snowbank, then went around
the trailer to where Devon was standing.  She hadn't moved.  She looked so
brittle and breakable, her arm against the trailer, her hand over her
eyes--as if one wrong word would make her shatter.  In spite of-the new rift
between them--in spite of how much had gone wrong--he could not walk away and
leave her like that.

Tossing the shank on the side of the ramp, he caught her by the back of the
neck, then pulled her into his arms, A muffled sob was wrenched from her, and
she slid her arms around his waist and hung on, the awful tension in her body
making him wince.  Turning them so he was between her and the open door of
the arena, he tightened his hold and tucked his head down against hers.
"Hey, Slash," he murmured softly.  "Don't.  get bent out of shape because he
wouldn't load.  It's not that big a deal."

She made another choked sound and turned her face agsin~ his neck, and he
felt her chest expand against his.  He knew this really didn't have anything
to do with the horse;

this had to do with what had happened last night.  And there was no easy
molasses solution to that.  He recalled what Sam had said about her long-term
relationship with some guy he didn't even know, and his gut tightened into a
hard, cold knot.  No damned solution at all.

He felt the trailer rock, and he pulled away and spoke, keeping his tone
light.  "We've got something happening here, Manyfeathers.  I think we'd
better check it out."

His insides churning, feeling cold to the bone, he drew her to the back end
of the trailer.  He forced a smile.  "Looks like old roany just loaded
himself."

He saw Devon quickly wipe her eyes, then she managed an unsteady laugh.  "I
don't want to know how you did that."

"Nope.  You don't."

Without looking at her, he picked up the shank and slid the ramp into place,
then closed the door of the trailer.  He gave it a light slap, then walked
around to the front of the truck and collected his jacket.  Her gaze fLxed on
him, Devon hesitated; then she finally climbed into the cab, closed the door
and rolled down the window.

For the first time s'nice he'd walked out on her the night before, Chase met
her gaze.  He stood with his weight on one hip, his hat' low over his eyes,
and she stared at him, a dark, haunted look in her eyes.  All it would take
was some indication from her, something to show she might be at least
wavering, and he would stay.  In spite of Sam's accusations.  In spite of
everything.  But she swallowed hard and looks!  away.

It was as though he was looking at her through the wrong end of a telescope,
and everything dropped away to nothing.  Through a funny b~!  7~- in his
head, he heard her put the truck in gear, "I'll see you later," she said
unevenly.

He was so ripped up inside, he almost didn't respond.  But he had promised
her once that he would never leave without telling her.  A final promise to
be kept.

That Sam

His throat tight and a hole where his heart should be, he spoke, his voice
hollow.  "No, you won't.  I'll be gone when you get back."

He saw the sudden jolt of alarm in her eyes, and he saw her hands grip the
wheel, but everything else was a blur.  "Stay safe, Devon," he said, his
voice gruff and unsteady; then he tossed the shank down by the molasses and
started walking up the hill toward her house.  He waited for her to call his
name.  He waited for the truck door to slam.  He waited for
something--anything.  But then he heard the soft growl of the tmck's engine,
and just like that, she let him go.  And suddenly, nothing mattered.

For the first few weeks after he returned to Colorado, Chase had stayed close
to the ranch, hoping that maybe there would be some word from her, that maybe
she would just show up, but there had been nothing.  Not a letter.  Not a
phone call.  Not a single word.  Nothing.  Zip.  There had been three phone
calls from Sam Creswell, which Chase had had the good fortune to miss and did
not return.  This was between him and Devon.  Nobody else.  When he'd finally
faced the fact that he wasn't going to hear from her, bitterness settled in.

It had taken until the end of May before Chase could even see past the anger
and the grinding feelings of betrayal.  And it was then that he had to
confront the jealousy that underscored all those bitter feelings.  He had
always been so dead certain that if Devon ever found someone else he would be
able to cope with it, but when he was faced with the hard, cold fact that
there had been someone else, he found he wasn't quite as big or as forgiving
as he'd thought.  Then most of his bitterness, most of his anger, turned
inward, and that damn near brought him down.  It was then that he had to face
another hard, cold fact.  He pretty much had it coming.  He'd been callous
and self-centered in the past, and he'd never really given her any reason to
think the future would be any different.

The only person who knew the whole story was Tan Chase had phoned his brother
when he got to Colorado told him in as few words as possible what had hap pet
Tanner didn't say much; he didn't have to.  Ernie was as enough to put a few
pieces together on his own.  He di, say much, either; he just got rid of all
the booze, kept CI away from anyone he didn't like and lined up enough b~
breaking work around the ranch to drop an ox.  Even ting as bad as Chase did,
Emie's gruff fussiness was cno to wring the odd' smile out of him, and he
started eallinc partner "mother;"

By the first of June, Chase figured he had wor through the worst of it.  He
avoided traveling with the st to the rodeos if at all possible, he quit
listening to corn music and he had to avoid certain things.  There was one ]
commercial on TV, featuring a well-known actress-who thick straight black
hair, and that commercial tore hill pretty good the first time be saw it.  So
he stopped watc] TV, as well.  He started expanding their operation--sta
thinking about maybe building an arena so he could: training a few horses for
roping.  He spent hours on phone setting up new contracts, and the place had
n looked so good.  All he had to do was make sure he wa busy during the day
that be didn't have lime to think, that he was so tired when he went to bed
at night that he out before his head hit the pillow.  Yeah, he had it bacl
get her

Then he got the phone call telling him that Keith N, st from was in critical
condition from a bad car w~ck had had to be airlifted to a trauma unit in
Calgary.  prognosis was not good--massive head and chest injtt and several
broken bones.  Chase got the call at five Th day morning, and he 'was in the
air by six.  An old re friend of his and Keith's had his own plane, and Doug
in from east of Denver, landing on the gravel road run

Past the ranch, and they were airborne in under tw minutes.

It was early evening when they.  walked into the IC unit.  And Chase knew as
soon as he saw Lisa sitting with Keith's parents in the waiting room that it
was bad.  Real bad.

By Sunday, there were no more options.  Keith's parents, both in their
seventies, were ravaged by shock and grief.  Doug took them to Bolton, and
Chase stayed with Lisa.  He was with her Monday morning when they took I~eith
away for the organ donations surge~, and he was in the room with her later
when they told her he was gone.  But the worst had been when they took Keith
up to OR.  It had damn near been more than he could handle, watching Lisa,
her body racked with sobs, kiss her husband goodbye one last time.  He hoped
to God he never had to go through something like that again--watching them
wheel IC, eith away, knowing that he would never see his old buddy again.
And it was nearly as bad when they came and told them it was over.

By the time they left I.  C.  U, Lisa had gone into a kind of shock.  She was
so pale, so cold, so numb, that seemed to register, and he felt every grim
step down long, sterile corridor.  It was over.  Finished.  It was the last
road he and Ir~ith would travel down together.

Numbness set in the next day.  Funeral arrangements for Thursday.  Notifying
friends and family.  Taking care of what had to be done.  Trying not to think
or feel.  Acting as a bulwark between Lisa and a whole community of
well-meaning friends and neighbors.  He had never seen the kind of
devastation he saw in her, and it was as if his presence was the only thing
that kept her together.  Her family arrived from Oklahoma early Wednesday
morning, but she didn't want them with her.  It was as though she didn't have
anytli]ng left inside her to give, and she simply couldn't handle anything
more.  All she wanted was Chase and her girls.  It was as though she was just
trying to hang on long enough to get through the funeral.

The emotional crash came late Wednesday night.  Chase heard her rummaging
around in her bedroom, and be pulled on a pair of jeans and went down the
darkened hallway.  She had come completely unglued and was sobbing
hysterically as she tore the closet apart.

He caught her by the wrist, then slid his arm around her middle, holding her
immobile.  "Hey, come on, stuffing," he said softly.  "Come on.  It's okay.
It's okay."

She tried to pry his arm away, her movements jerky with desperation, her
voice nearly incoherent.  "I can't find it!  God, I can't find it.  And I
promised him.  I promised him a long time ago, and I can't find it.  I can't
find it."

Holding her firm, he turned her, locking her in a secure embrace.  "Shh,
honey.  Shh.  What can't you find?"

Violent sobs shuddered through her, and she tried to break free.  "His belt.
I can't find his belt."

His throat so tight he couldn't swallow, Chase rocked her, knowing that
nothing could comfort her.  "Shh, stuffing.  Shh."  He waited until she
couldn't fight anymore; then he brushed her hair back, wiping her wet,
ravaged face with his hand.  "Maybe it's with his things from the hospital."
She watched him with haunted, desolate eyes, 'and he gently tucked her hair
behind her ear.  "I'm going to sit you down in the chair, and I'll go get the
bag from the front closet, okay?"  She gazed at him numbly, her face awash
with lears, looking at him as if she didn't quite comprehend what he was
saying.  He gave her a gentle shake.  "Okay?"

She closed her eyes and hauled in a shuddering breath.  Taking another
breath', she nodded.  Chase put her in the 'chair, then went to find the bag.
When he returned with the white plastic bag with the hospital logo on it,
fresh tears were slipping down her face, but that impenetrable, blank
expression was gone, and her grief was open and exposed.  He crouched in
front of her and opened the plastic sack, his throat tightening even more as
be lifted out the pair of jeans that were rolled up inside.  He handed them
to Lisa, and she closed her eyes and hugged them against her, fresh tears
slipping down her cheeks.  Chase looked away, his vision blurring.  Resting
his elbow on his thigh, he bent his head and massaged his eyes, trying to
will away the awful pain clogging his chest.

Lisa touched him on the shoulder and spoke, her voice soft.  "He loved to
tell stories about all the scrapes the two of you got into."  She smoothed
down his hair, her gesture comforting and ma~nal, her voice going even
softer.  "And he especially loved the one about the big buck-off the two of
you had in Calgat3r--he must have told ita thousand times."

Feeling raw to the bone, Chase dropped his hand and looked at her, and she
gave him the softest .  ~nile.  Taking his hand, she placed something cold
and metallic in it.  "If anything ever happened to him, he wanted you to have
this."  She closed his fingers, her eyes glimm~ with tears, her brave smile
unsteady.  "And I want you to have it, too."

Chase stared at her, then swallowed hard and opened his hand.  It was the
silver belt buckle--the one from the Calgary Stampede.  " the one he and
Keith had competed against each other for so many years ago.  He bowed his
head and covered his eyes with his hand, the loss finally just too much to
handle.

Thursday dawned dismal and overcast, and Chase functioned like a man ought in
a bad dream.  The funeral pa,~d in a blur, and by the time they reached the
grave site, a soft rain was falling, enclosing the heavily treed cemetery in
a gray mist, the scent of wet pines and damp earth mixiog with the fragrance
from the wreaths of flowers.  He and Lisa stood shoulder to shoulder, her
fingers laced tightly through his, the girls in front of them.  The rain
rustled in the tree branches above them, the dripping leaves shedding-their
water on the sodden ground, the solemn, sonorous drone of the mlni.  ~ter's
voice heavy and somehow f'mal.  He went with her when she laid a single red
rose on the casket, and he gripped her hand even tighter and steadied her
when he felt her falter and stumble beside him.

It was almost as though the rain kept them secluded and inviolate, safe from
intrusion.  So with her rigid and white-faced beside him~ fighting valiantly
to keep it together, he led her and the girls past the silent mourners,
through softly falling rain to the l/mo.  He didn't gee a damn w people
thought.  All he cared about was getting them ou~ there before the grim
reality hit, before grief-fiddled pa and despair swamped her again.  That
kind of anguish co never he shared.  It was hers alone.

Chase checked into the Bolton Hotel that night.  With the public ritual of
death behind her, Lisa was finally a to let go and turn to her family~ and
Chase was just as gl He was so damned exhausted and beat up inside that
wouldn't have been much good to her anyway.  He.  wanted to crawl into a hole
somewhere and lick his worn But beneath the numbness, beneath the exhaustion,
I had built to a dangerous level.  Rage at the in just/ce, rag the drunk
driver who'd ended Keith's Yde, rage at the av waste.

Lying on his bed, his arm draped over his eyes, Ct clenched his jaw and tried
to empty: his mind, but one ~ tion, one image, kept trying to surface.  The
emotion intense, wrenching and so damned hollow he didn't dau it take shape.
And the image--it was even worse.  Devon to one side of the grave, standing
alone in the softly fal rain, her face framed by the collar of a shiny
raincoat, expression stark with shock and sorrow.  He wondered if had ever
grieved like that for him.

Swearing under his breath, Chase abruptly rolled t feet and picked up his
wallet and room key from the ni stand.  He was going to need something a hell
of a stronger than falling-down exhaustion to deaden thoughts.  Maybe,
whatever it was, he could find it a!  bottom of a bottle.

Chapter 11

Devon Manyfeathers stood at the kitchen window watch-mg the rain drizzle
down, such an awful pain in her chest that she couldn't take a deep breath.
The light was fading from the heavily overcast sky, and the yard lights had
just come on, their luminescence doing lit He to dispel the deepening gloom.
A chill crept across her skin from the open window, and she rubbed her upper
arms, the fragrance of wet earth and cleansing rain wafting in on the light
breeze.  It had been so hot over the past few days'.  The kind of wind-driven
heat that sucked the moisture out of the ground and withered the leaves on
the trees.  It was good to feel the rain, to smell it.

An image of a flower-draped coffin took shape in her mind, and she shifted
her gaze, a recurring ache again constricting her chest.  Keith.  It didn't
seem possible that he was gone.  And Lisa and the girls.  And Chase.

The ache climbed higher, and she abruptly fished a tissue out of her pocket
and blew her nose, trying to detach herself from the feelings that kept
threatening to break out.

Death had never touched her dLrectly before.  It had alw; been distant and
removed--not her own personal loss.  T~ one was personal, and she felt it
right down to her soul.  S didn't know how Lisa had held together like she
had.  S could only imagine what geith's wife must he feeling--if: was even
able to feel.  A loss like that would go beyond, din sty pain.

Another chill feathered across her skin, and Devon tun from the window, her.
gaze catching on an envelope tuci behind the l~iephone.  The writing on it
was Chase's--j~ some idle scratching he'd made while talking on the t~ phone,
but she hadn't been able to bring herself to throv out.  She reached out and
touched the bold writing, 1 throat tighl~ning even more.  She kept seeing him
stand~ by the grave, holdLnoo on to Lisa's hand, his other a around both the
girls, his grief buried beneath a hard ca rior.

She had nearly gone to him--would have gone to bin he had lingered at the
grave sil~, but he hadn't.  He had 1 abruptly, ~king the visibly trembling
Lisa and the girls the waiting limo, and she had stood in the falling rain a
watched him go, experiencing the kind of guilt, the kind regret, that had no
dimensions.

Despair washing through-her, Devon wiped her eyes ~ the side of her hand, so
despera~y lonely for him that: could barely stand it.  She had felt as if
she'd died ins when he had left in February, but seeing him again was e~
worse.  It had nearly killed her when he had looked at'.  without even a
flicker of recognition, as though she w~ total stranger, and it was right
then, for the very first tit that she was forced to reco~t, nize all she had
lost when sh let him walk out of her life.  She had never been very g at
being honest with herself.  That took the kind of cout~ she just didn't have.

But something had happened today when she'd I~ standing by that open grave,
Chase standing across f~ her, silent and isolal~xl in the softly falling'
rain.  She r{

ized that she had been skirting a basic truth for a lot of years, and at an
immeasurable cost.  She had avoided making any kind of commitment to him
because she was afraid.  Afraid he would stop loving her, afraid he would
someday walk out on her.  Afraid he would discover she wasn't what he thought
she was.  He thought she was strong and independent and self-sufficient.  But
she knew, deep down inside, that she was none of those things.  She never had
been.  She had simply learned how to hide what she really was.  She'd been
hiding it all her life.

And fear of discovery had cost her Chase.  Before, she had always known at
some intuitive level that he would be back.  But thi.  ~ time was different.
This time he wouldn't be.  Her self-discovery had come too late, and she had
lost everything because of her own insufficiencies.

Her vision blurring, she gently straightened the corner of the envelope, then
swallowed hard and turned away.  It would help if she could get his face out
of her mind--a face scored with pain and marked by sorrow, and thinner.  Much
thinner.  Her sorrow spilled over, and She covered her face with her hand.
She had done that to him.  That had nothing to do with Keith's death.

She went to the living room window, haunted by regret and guilt, wishing she
could undo what she had done to him.  She wondered where he was, if he was
still at Lisa's or if he had gone to ground like he had when his grandmother
died.  The thought of him holed up somewhere alone, with no one to' hold and
comfort him, was more than she could handle, and something broke loose in
her.  Turning abruptly, she went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.
She had to find him.  She couldn't bear the thought that he might be alone
somewhere.  Not Chase.  Never Chase.

There was the usual assortment of vehicles parked in front of the hotel, but
in spite of that, the main street seemed oddly dark and deserted, the steady
drizzle compounding the emptiness.  Devon parked ~the truck and turned off
the lights and ignition, then sat staring out the rain-splattered windshield,
a sick, hollow feeling settling in her stomach.  It had taken two phone calls
to find him~ but now that she was here, she felt almost paralyzed with
uncertainty.  She didn't know what she would do if he slammed the door in her
face.  But she also knew she would never forgive herself if she of the
ignition, then opened the door, her expression strained.  The thought of wall
ring into the hotel sc.  a~t~ her to death.

There was no one at the, desk in the-small lobby, and her stomach knotted
With dread.  She had known she was going to have to get Chase's room number
from the front desk, but now she was going to have to ring for service.
Which meant Ida Urko, the owner's wife, would be the one to answer.  And Ida
was one of the biggest gossips in town, Composing her face, Devon drew
herself up to her full height and pushed the bell.

Ida appeared from the suite tucked behind the lobby, her glasses hanging
around her neck on a chain, her bottle-red hair held up with rhinestone
combs, her eyelashes thick with black mascara.  She gave Devon a saccharine
smile.  "Devon.  What can I do for you?"

Devon used every inch of her height.  "Td like Chase McCall's room number
please, Ida."

The rings on her fingers flashed in the overhead light as Ida caressed the
edge of the ledger lying on the court tea and she gave Devon a small, knowing
smile.  She stared at her, a smug look in her eyes, then reached for the row
of !  ~]s on the wall beside her.  Devon knew exactly what was going through
the woman's mind, and she knew Ida would have a field day with it if she let
her get away with it.

She gave the innlreeper a tight smile.  "I didn't ask for the room key," she
said, her tone sharp.  "I asked for the room number."

The older woman's expression froze, and she broke eye contact and made a
nervous, flustered gesture with her hand.  "Oh, yes.  Well.  It's, urn, room
twenty-one."

Devon waited until Ida met her gaze again, then gave her another fight smile,
letting her know she knew what Ida was up to.  "Thank you."

That jolt of pure rage got her up the stairs and down the corridor, but her
bolstering anger deserted her the instant she reached his door.  Faced with
the reality of her decision, she closed her eyes, her frantically beating
heart caught in her throat, uncertainty sitting like a rock in the pit of her
stomach.

Drawing a deep, stabigizing breath, she straightened, the mild flutter
climbing higher as she knocked on the door.

There was no sound from within, and she turned her head and stared down the
empty corridor, an awful, sinking feeling rushing in to replace the tense
apprehension.  He wasn't there.  Now what?  Did she stay, or did she go?
Swallowing hard, she knocked again, compelled to try one more time.

She was about to turn away when the door swung open and she was suddenly
face-to-face with Chase McCall.  He looked completely wasted.  He had on a
pair of jeans, but he was still wearing the white shirt he'd worn to the
funeral, though it was now wrlnlded, loose and unbuttoned.  He had that dark,
dangerous gunslinger look, his jaw rigid and unshaven, his eyes narrowed in a
steely-eyed squint.  On the surface, he looked as hard as nails and almost
threatening, but it was the tight compression lines bracket hag his mouth and
the emotionless expression in his eyes that made her heart falter.

He stared at her for an instant, then started to close the door, but she
placed her hand against it, holding it open.  She saw the muscles in his jaw
tense, and for an instant she thought he was going to shove it shut anyway,
but then he dropped his hand and turned away.  It was then that she saw the
bottle in his hand.  His back to her, he went over to the window overlooking
the street and stood staring out, his shoulders stiff.  He lifted the bottle
and took a swig, and a painful ache unfolded in Devon's chest.  It wasn't
until that moment that she'd realized just how badly she had hurt him.  A
sick feeling of guilt washed through her, and she swallowed hard and looked
away.  She waited until the spasm passed; then she looked at him, knowing she
owed him one hell of lot more than sympathy.

Swallowing again, she eased in a steadying breath.  "I'm so sorry about
Keith," she whispered, her voice breaking a little.  "I can't believe he's
gone."

Chase bent his head and braced his arm against the wall, and Devon saw his
chest heave.  And she knew.  Knew.  Yanking the strap off her shoulder, she
tossed her bag on the corner of the bed and crossed to him, a fierce,
protective feeling welling up inside her.  She took the bottle from his hand
and set it on the window ledge, then put her arms around him.  He tried to
pull away, but she pressed her face against him and tightened her hold, her
throat clogged with tears.  It tore her to shreds, knowing she had hurt him
so badly that he couldn't even accept comfort from her, knowing that he had
no one to share his grief with.  Needing to make him look at her, to
acknowledge her, she caught his face and turned his head, her vision so
blurred she could barely see.  "Don't, Chase," she whispered unevenly.
"Don't do that.  For God's sake, let me hold you.  Please."

He stared at her, his gaunt face set like stone, not even a glimmer of
response in his red-rimmed eyes.  For the first time in her life she felt
completely estranged from him, and it terrified her.  Despair washing through
her, she touched his mouth, her tears spilling over.  "I'm sorry, Chase," she
whispered brokenly.  "So sorry."

Something flickered in his eyes, as if he understood what she was really
saying, and Devon touched his mouth again, her fingers trembling.  "I was so
scared," she whispered, trying to explain past the awful tightness in her
chest.  "And I didn't know how to tell you."

Chase stared at her for an instant longer; then he shut his eyes in an
expression of immense torment, and Devon closed her eyes against a wrenching
surge of emotion as his arms came around her in a dee' rate crushing embrace.
Holding on to him with every ounce of strength she had, she roughly turned
her face against his neck and choked back a sob.  She wail~xi for the awful
ache in her throat to ease; then she hugged him, closing her eyes tight again
at the swell of tears.  "I can't believe he's dead, Chase.  I can't."

Caving in around her, Chase tightened his hold and tucked his head again.  ~t
hers, and she felt him fill ally let gO.  Experiencing such a wealth of
anguish for him, she cradled his head again.  ~t her, giving him what solace
she could, her relief nearly as wrenching as his grief.  He had let her in,
and right then, that was all that matl~xi.

It took a long time for the terrible tension to ease in him~ but time didn't
matter to Devon.  She continued to hold him, her fingers splayed wide at the
back of his head, so thankful for' the small respite that lit He else
registered.

She felt him wipe his face against the rough fabric of her jacket, and she
reluctantly eased her hold, kissing his pie as she gently smoothed his hair.
Releasing a ragged sigh, he lifted his head and loosened his hold.  For one
awful moment she thought he was going to turn away without even looking at
her, but then he dosed his oyes and rested his forehead again~ hers, and
Devon could feel him try to pull himself together.  She cupped the back of
his neck, gently stroking him, and he released another unsteady sigh and
shifted his hold.  She heard him swallow, then he raised his head and looked
at her, his eyes so bleak and tormented that it was all she could do to keep
from responding.  He held her gaze for an instant; then he shifted his
atlention and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear.  "I'm sorry," he said
simply, his voice unsteady.

Her throat suddenly tight, she smoothed her hand across his ravaged face.
"You have nothing to be sorry for, Chase," she chastised suffiy.  "And never
with me."

He started to speak; then he abruptly looked away, and she could see the ~!
immer of moisture in his oyes.  Her eyes burning, she lowered her head and
began doing up the buttons on his shirt, her fingers trembling so badly she
could barely manage the task.

Shifting his hold, Chase caught her along the jaw and tried to raise her
head, but she resisted, not wanting him to see the tears in her oyes.  He
robbed her chin with his thumb, his voice very husky, very soft when he
spoke.  "What are you doing, Der?"

She shook he~ head needing time for the cramp in her throat to pass.  He
covered her hands, holding ~ still again at his chest.  "Would you lie down
with me?"

Her throat cramped again, and she closed her oyes and tested her head against
his,.  struggling again at the swell of emotion.  She didn't want to stay at
the hotel.  She felt too exposed here, with Ida downstairs, waiting and
watching, trying to collect as much gossip as she could.  Talcing a deep,
steadying breath, she turned her hand under his, then laced her fingers
through his.  Reaching deep for some control, she lifted her head and 1oo!
~d at him.  "I came to take you home," she whispered brokenly.  "I want to
take you home."

He tried to turn away, but Devon saw how hard he was fighting to keep from
losing it again, and she refused to let him go.  Struggling with her she drew
his head emotions,

down again~ her shoulder, and he exhal~-ronghly and tightened his arms around
her.  She wal~xl unffi she felt him take a steadying breath; then she gently
eased away and took his hand in hers.

Ida was at the front desk talking to a regular patron of the-bar when they
came down the stairs, and her Dance went from Devon to Chase, then she
*mlrk~i and said som~- thing to the mall standing at the desk.  Devon ignol~l
her.  All she cared about was getting Chase out of there.

He never said a word on the drive to S'dver Springs.  He sat dark stubble
accentuating the hard set of his ~aw.  His still-mss would have fr/ghtened
her if R hadn't been for his hand resting against the inside of her thigh.
And for some reason that one physical connection created such a load of
emotion in her that she could barely function.

There was only a faint aura of light remaining on the western horizon when
she pulled into the yard, the headlights sv~eeping the blooming lilac hedge
along the lane.  The fragrance drifted in through the open window, and moths
cast dancing shadows around the yard light.  She ignored the graveled parking
area by the arena and pulled up to the back of, the house instead.  She set
the hand brake, then turned off the lights and switched off the ignition.
Smoothing her hand across the back of his, she glanced at him, then slipped
out of the truck.

The house was dark except for the faint light from the yard, and she paused
in the back entryway, waiting for her eyes to adjust.  She heard Chase latch
the screen door; then he followed her up the stairs, and a nervous flutter
unfolded in her chest.  She went straight to the bedroom, but when she turned
to speak to him, he wasn't tlg~.  Her heart lurching, she turned back.

She found him in the short hallway, He was leaning against the wall, his eyes
dosed, and even in the faint light she could tell that he was exhausted, both
mentally and physically.  Hdr vision blurring, Devon approached him,
something painful happening to her heart when she xeal-ized how badly he was
trembling.  Quickly wiping away her tears, she slid her arm around his waist.
"Come on, Slick," she whispered unevenly.  "Let's get you into bed."

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to cooperate,

bedroom, Devon staxted to nndress him.  She vet3, nearly lost it when she
recognized the big silver buckle on his belt, and she locked her jaw against
the raw emotion that washed through her.  Once he was fee of his jeans, he
s~c.  he'd out

That Same Old Feeling 19 on his back, his arm over his eyes, the muscles in
his jar gld.

He was still like that when Devon came back from t~ bathroom, and he never
moved when she slid into bed I~ side him.  Re~ii~ing he was in some kind of
shock, she sl her arm under his neck and gently eh~w his arm away fro'.  his
eyes.  "Let me hold you, Chase," she entreated softly.  He didn't respond for
an instant; then he exhaled sharp and turned into her arms.  Closing her eyes
against a near unbearable surge of feeling for him, she cradled his he ago
inst her breast and pressed her mouth to the top of ~

pulled her flush against him.  Devon swallowed hard at drew the sheet over
his shoulders, then began slowly rul bing his back.  It was as ff all he
needed was her physic warmth to let go, and he released another ragged sigh
mined his face against her, "his beard rough against her ski and the
trembling slowly abated.  His weight g/ew hea against her, and she thought he
had fallen asleep, but tightened his arm around her and spoke, his voice thic
" Don't leave.  "

Resting her cheek on the top of his head, she hugged h~ against her and
blinked back the sting in her eyes.  won't," she whispered unevenly.  " I
promise.  "

Devon had never been so totally aware of him as she ~ that night.  His weight
against her, the texture of his hair ~ skin, the imprint of his arm around
her, every breath took.  She lay awake long after he fell asleep, absorbing
e~ the smallest detail, her chest so full of gratitude she col hardly breathe
at times.  He slept a totally exhausted slo something so vulnerablein his
stillness, in the dead we~ of him against her, and Devon experienced a kind
of p tectiveness that she had never experienced before.  5 wasn't going to
let anything disturb him--anything.  He ~ hers to keep safe, and she would
stand guard all night necessary.  The gift of sleep was one thing she could ~
him.

He finally stirred as dawn lightened the sky, the pat let rain on the roof
permeating the dusky st~inc~.  He shifl~l beside her, his beard scraping
agni~x~t her as he turned his head, his breath warm agnin~ her neck as he
muted her name.  She knew he wasn't fully awake, and the sound of her name
did unbearable things to her heart.  With infmile care she smoothed back his
hair and cradled his head against her, flooded with such lender ness that it
ma her che~t hurt.  Cn)d, but it had been so empty without him.  And so very
lonely.

He shif~ his head, his breath warm against her neck then, with drowsy
languor, he smoothed his hand along her n'b cage.  l~elen.  ~ng a conlented
sigh, he slid his arms around her and gathered her up in an enveloping
embrace, then spoke, his voice gruff with sleep.  "Tell me I'm not dream
Easing a breath past the aching fullness in her chest, she gave him a lit He
hug.  " You're not dreaming," she whis She felt him swallow, and that one
gesture set off such a swell of emotion inside her that she had to clench her
jaw against it.  Cupping the side of his face, she tipped her head and
pressed a kiss against his forehead.  Chase shifted and found her mouth,
taking it in a slow, lazy kiss that sent her tightened his hold on her face
and drew away.  " Are you going to let me make love to you, Slash?  " he
murmured, his voice gruff with emotion.

Devon opened her eyes and looked at him, far closer to tears than she wanted
to be.  Swallowing against the nearly unbearable fullness in her throat, she
held his steady gaze and tried to smile.  "You can do whale ver you want,
McCall."  She almost pulled it off, but something happened and a sob escaped.
She gripped his back and hid her face against his neck, fighting for
composure.

Cradling ~ head again.  ~t him, Chase used his other arm to pull her beneath
him, his weight braced on his forearms as he hugged her against him, His hand
tangled in her i as he tucked her face against his neck; then he nudged
thighs apart with his knee and settled his legs between h securing her
against him.  He tightened his hold, brusl~ kiss against her neck and spoke,
his voice rough with ~ tion, gruff with tenderness.  "I need you, Der."

Of all the things he could have said, that was the one fi she needed most to
hear, and she hugged him hard, st~ gling against the tears.

He buried his face against her neck, and Devon felt chest expand.  Abruptly,
eveofhing changed.  She felt l against her, hard and fully aroused, and her
breath ca~ on the sudden wild flutter in her chest.  Closing her ~ against
the explosion of need, she hung on to him, a he weakness pulsing through her.
On a soft sound of entre she drew up her knees, and Chase tried to pull
away.  " babe.  No," he whispered raggedly.  "Once I'm inside ye ah, Cod,
Dev--I won't he able to leave."

Shaken to the core by the agony of need in his voice, body primed for the
feel of him, she clutched at him,: bing her wet heat against him.  "It's
okay," she whispe her voice breaking from the frenzy of hot, surging de sing
promise.  It's okay.  "

Chase roughly tightened his hold and made a low so~ and Devon arched her back
and lifted her pelvis.  Chase ~ rigid in her arms, another low, ragged sound
wrenched !  him as he entered her in one despairing thrust.

There was no room for gentleness or patience.  There only room for urgency
and a fever of need--and gree driving, despera~, frantic greed that consumed
them, d them, carried them to the very edge of an emotional l~ pice; then
Chase clutched her and drove into her one :' time.  The blackness exploded
into splintering shards o ver, and the release came--a blinding, paralyzing
re] that took them both under.

Chase held on to her, enveloping her in hi~ strength heat, his body
shuddering against hers, and Devon elm him, tears of raw emotion slipping
down her temples, so shaken, so emotionally exposed that she felt stripped
inside.  It took a long time for all that emotional turbulence to settle, and
the first things she was aware of were how close she was to sobbing and how
securely he was holding her.  She released some of the emotional overload by
expelling the air in her lungs, then cradled the back of his head and hugged
him fiercely, tears dampening her face.

Chase inhaled unevenly, then turned his head and kissed her on the curve of
her neck.  Devon could feel his heart hammering againnt hers.  "Are you all
right?"  he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She nodded, burying her face again at his neck.  She wailed for the pressure
to ease in her chest; then she cupped the back of his neck.  "Are you?"

Drawing one arm from under her,.  he braced his weight on it and looked down
at her.  With the dark stubble shadowing his strong jaw, his heavy-lidded
eyes and his tousled hair, he looked dark and dangerous and very male.  He
gave her a slow, soft smile, a trace of amusement in his eyes.  "You're
pretty damned cule, do you know that?"  He leaned down and kissed her, his
mouth warm and moist and open again~ hers.  "Yes, darling'," he whispered
huskily.  "I'm fine."

Devon knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but she couldn't give him that
yet.  She remembered too clearly what kind of shape he'd been in last night,
and she didn't want to diminish that.  And she also remembered how much she'd
hurt him, only she didn't know how to make it right.  All she knew was that
she didn't want him trying to cover up to make things easy for her.  Like he
always had.  Her throat fight, she slid her hand up his neck and kissed him
back, trying to give him all the emotional honesty he had given her.  Holding
her still, Chase eased away, then sighed and raised his head, his eyes dark
and somber as he gazed down at her.  Devon tried to ease the contraction in
her throat, then spoke, her voice unsteady.  "I'm glad you're here, Chase."

He shifted his gaze as he drew his thumb across her mouth, and she saw the
muscles in his jaw bunch, then he looked ~at her again.  There was a
dLrectness in his somber gaze that made her throat contract even more.  -"So
am I," he answered unevenly.  "So am I."  He leaned down and kissed her
again, then carefully withdrew from her.  Using his arm as leverage, he
lifaxl himself off her, then stretched out on his back and reached for her.
"Come here," he said gruffly.  "I need to hold you."

The ceiling was of open-beam construction, and the sound of the rain on the
roof broke the stillness, the heavy dusk of the room lightenin"~ to an
ovewast gloom.  Devon hy with her head on his shoulder and her knee tucked
between his, the weight of his arm across her back holding her s~-cutely
agaln.nt him.  She stated into the gray gloom, her hand splayed again~ his
chest, us~ning to the counlerpoint of his heartbeat and the rain on the roof,
savoring the shared silence.  Chase sighed and covered her hand with his, and
Devon shifted her head a fraction and spoke, her voice quiet.  " What are you
thinking about?  "

He sighed again and shook his head.  "I don't even know.  It's been ah ell of
a week."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He robbed his thumb again at her palm, then shook his head again.  "Not right
now.  I don't even want to think about it."

Devon could understand how he must be feeling, and she dehq~eralely threw
some thinE at him that would catch him off guard.  "You took my shampoo when
you left."

Her forehead was against the side of his jaw, and she felt him smile.
"What's the matter, Manyfeathers?  Did somebody kick you out of the sandbox?"

Amusement flickered through Devon.  That was one of her favorige things about
him--the way he could put a twist on a rebuttal.  Right from the first he had
made her laugh, only she had always been careful not to let him see her do it
too often.  She hadn't wan led him to get a big head.  She still tried not to
laugh in front of him--mostly because it pleased him that she didn't.  Her
amusement deepened.  They had been playing that game for a lot of years.

She poked her thumb in his ribs and smiled at the response she got.  "What
would you know about sandboxes, McCall?"

"Not much.  Except they're full of sand."

She managed to keep her tone dry.  "Not that you ever got kicked out of one,
of course."

He gave her bottom a light squeeze.  "Of course."

He smiled into her eyes, then smoothed his hand across {he swell of her hips,
his expression sobering.  "It's getting late, babe" ' he said gruffly.

Devon knew what time it was, but'in all the years at Silver Springs, she had
never played hooky once.  She figured Sam owed her.  She gave b~ a lazy grin.
"I don't cook.  I don't do windows.  And I don't go out in the rain."

appearing in his gaze.  He ran one finger back and forth across her bottom
lip, his touch erotic and sensitizing.  The laugh lines deepened, and his
gaze turned more intimate.  "You don't say.  What do you do, Manyfeathers?"

She stared at him, raised ore eyebrow and gave him a slow smile.  "Almost
anything you want."

He laughed and dragged her on top of him.  He looked at her, mischief and
pure male sexuality sparkling in his eyes.  His voice was like John Wayne.
"Then show me your stuff, little lady."  He shifaxi beneath her, then drew
her head down and licked her bottom lip, murmuring, "And I'll show you mine."

Unable to keep from launching, Devon caught his face and gave him a hard
kiss, wondering if it was possible to love him any more.

Devon phoned down to the arena around nine o'clock and told them to finish
chores, then take the test of the day off.  She knew that Sam would be
scandali:,ed when he found out, but she didn't really care.  The blealmess
was gone from

Chase's eyes, and she intended to make sure it didn't return, at least for
today.

It wasn't until they went to bed that night and he was asleep beside her that
the first tentacle of panic uncurled in her belly.  She didn't know how to
let go of the fear.  She didn't know how to climb over the mountain of
self-doubt.  And she didn't know how she would survive when he walked out of
her life again.

She had very nearly lost him once.  She did not want to lose him again.

Chapter 12

Devon ~ against the kitchen counter, her expression solemn as she watched
Chase put the finishing touches on roast beef sandwiches.  He had arrived
Thursday night; it was now Monday noon, and he had been quiet and withdrawn
since he had returned to town Saturday morning.  She had taken him in to
check out of the hotel and pick up the truck Tanner had loaned him.  She had
dropped him Off and returned to S'dver Springs, and he had spent most of the
day with Lisa, helping her sort through Keith's papers.  He had arrived back
late Saturday night, his e~pression drawn, his mood preoccupied.  She doubled
if he had said more than fifty words since.  She understood his silence, and
she respected it.  What troubled-her was his stillness.  In all the years she
had known him, he had never been like this.  That worried her, and it worried
her that he had spent the past two days holed up in the house.  That wasn't !
iim him, ei Not sure if it was wise or not, she took a deep breath and

He glanced at her, then lifted the sandwiches onto individual plates.  "What?"

"Why don't you come down to the outside arena this afternoon?  I'm going to
be working a two-year-old colt that needs some corrective farrier work; and
I'd ~ you to have a look at him."

Chase gave her an unreadable look, then pushed a plate of sandwiches toward
her.  She glanced at the sandwiches, then at him, a shot of apprehension
making her stomach drop.  She screwed up her courage and pursued it.
"Chase?"  He wouldn't look at her, and Devon's stomach took another nosedive,
She swallowed against tile flutter in her throat, then tried again, her voice
soft and entreating.  "Please."

He set his sandwiches on the table, then raised his head and looked at her,
his expression guarded.  He studied her for a moment, then exhaled heavily.
"I won't go down to the arena," he said quietly.  "Sam's not go' rag to be
very pleased when he finds out I'm here."

Devon stared at him, startled by his answer.  "what?"

He held her gaze for a moment, then gave a small, dismissing shrug and sat
down.  "Just drop it, okay?"

Her expression thoughtful, she studied him, trying to figure out what was
going on.  Somethi~ had happened, but she didn't have a clue what it was.
She.  would drop it with him, but she had no intention of dropping it with
Sam.  She had an awful feeling her boss had some explaining to do.

Wanting to ease the teusion lines etched around his mouth, she tried to
distract him.  "You never put any mustard on my sandwiches, McCall," she
said, her tone ace using

For the first time in two and a haft days she caught a flicker of amusement
in his eyes.  "For someone who doesn't cook, you do a pile of complaining,
Manyfeathers."

She wanted very badly to get a real smile out of him.  "I cook, Slick.  Just
not in the kitchen."

He rested his arms on the table and stared at her with look that made her
pulse falter, the sifying.  "Feeling full of it, are we?"

She tipped her head and gave him a slow smile.

the matter, McCall?  Getting too old to cut the

He grinned at her and slowly shook his head,

demy she felt a whole lot lighter.  ~

Lunch was never ~i.  ~urdy for Devon.

week.  She had a strict schedu~ for the horses she was t hag, and taking the
day off on Friday had meant she ]

some catching up to do.  She wanted to push hag with her, but she had to find
out what was going

Sam before she said anything more.  Chase had the kitchen sink dhassembled by
the time work.  It bothered her that he was staying ha the peci~ly since it
was such a beautiful, bldmy day.

hated being shut up inside,

was because he was stffi working through Keith's ff it really did have
something to do vdth Sam.

that, business wise summer was Chase's busiest she had overheard one of Iris,

there didn't seem to be any prob~ ms there.  But she the uneasy feeling that
Chase's .  thne here wasn't the type to hang around if it was pretty clear
that he didn't feel particularly'

She was still mulling tds comment about Sam mind as she led three horses to
the outside arena.  "

tomer was leaning against the railing of ral, watching Sam work one of the
top ranked'.

horses.  She spoke to him as she walked by.

Anne opened the b~ gate for her reins of one horse to the girl.  Warm him up
for l you, Anne?  I want to ta~ to Sam for a minute,"!

nodded, and Devon fled the other two animals to!

then closed the gate and hitched it.

Her boots sir king into the freshly harrowed !

crossed to Sam, who was just dhmounting.

That Same OId Feeling wind swept across the ground, picking up dust and twis~
through the leaves of the trees that sheltered the far en~ the corral.
Starlight glinted off the horse traik'r and tr parked beneath them, and she
tugged the brim of her lower over her eyes.  The ge/~ng pu~ed at the rebus ha
$a hands, and began cropping the lush green grass gro~ along the edge of the
corral.  The horse raised Iris head~ pricked Iris ears as Devon approached,
and she ~ and rubbed lgs nose, then looked at her boss.  "Have' got a minute?"

His face was flushed, sweat trickled down his~ and he looked hot and tired.
He didn't ride as much m used to, and Devon could tell by the way he was
start that h~ hip was bothering him.  He swept off h~ hat; mopped his
forehead, then replaced the bat lined st Stetson, ghncing at the horse as the
anhnal tossed hi she then went back to grazing on the grass.  "What's on y
mind?"

Devon toed a clod of damp loam in the shape of a hi uneasiness turning over
ha her stomach.  In all the years had worked for him, she and Sam Creswell
had never hard words.  And she didn't want them now.  Not if she c~ ~h?  p,
it.  She looked at him, her expression unsmiling.  don't know if you're aware
of it or not, but Chase~Me~ h here,"

Sam's head came up, his gaze riveted on her.  "Here?  Devon studied him.  "
Yes.  "

The older man scanned the area outside the cox "Where?"

There was something ha Iris voice that made Devon h tate.  "He's ha the
house."  She paused, then confim~ "He's been here since Keith's funeral."

Sam's gaze locked on her, a star fled look regkstedng i~ eyes.  "Since the
funeral?"

The.  gelding lifted his head and chewed on the grass !  cropped, Iris bit
jin~ling, and she reached out and scrat~ him under the jaw.  The truck Chase
had been driving parked in the shade of the weathered old garage by her house
and wasn't visible from the arena.  She wondered if Chase had parked it there
deliberately.  She looked at her boss.  "What's going on, Sam?"  she asked,
an inflexible edge in her tone.

Sam let his breath go in a rush, a flush creeping up his face.  "Now, Der,"
he said, his tone placating.

"You said something to him, didn't you?"

He shifted his weight and looked away, then looked at her.  "We!!, yes, I
did."

"What did you say?"

He gave her a sheepish look.  "I guess I spoke outta turn, and"

"What did you say?"

"Well, now, I guess I poked my nose in where I had no business poking it."

Devon looked away, her jaw fixed, the lust flickerings of anger unfolding in
her.  She wailed for the feeling to settle; then she turned and faced him.
"I want to know what you said, Sam."

He released a heavy sigh and tipped his head.  His voice was quiet when he
finally answered.  "I figured he was using you, girl.  And it bothered the
hell out of me.  I didn't find out until later that I was dead wrong.  I
tried to call him a couple of times to tell him so, but he wasn't there."

Devon felt suddenly shaky inside, and she stared at him.  "Just what made you
think you were wrong?"

"Well," he said, shuffling his feet, "I said something to Tanner, and he put
me right."

Devon continued to stare at him, a quiet rage taking hold.  Tanner had put
him right?  Remembering the look on Chase's face when he'd told her about
Sam, she gave Sam a furious look, then started to walk away.  Damn it, why
was it always Chase's fault?

Sam caught her before she took half a dozen steps.  He grabbed her arm,
pulling her up short.  "Now just hold on a minute there, miss-y," he said
gruffly.  "I owe the boy an apology, and I'd like to deliver it before you
stir up an ant Devon wouldn't look at him, anger still sir~ ling in her.  An
anthill?  What did an anthill have to do with this?  She tried to let go of
some of the tension.  Taking a deep, steadying breath, she spoke.  " You had
no business saying anythin,~ to him, Sam," she said, her voice uneven.  " I
can take care of myself.  "

Sam had the nerve to chuckle.  "Well, I expect I didn't, and I expect you
can.  But lord almighty, woman, don't stick your chin out like that.  Makes
me think you want to scalp me."

Damn it, she didn't want him to make her ;~mile.  It wasn't funny.  So she
waited for-the urge to pass, then turned to him, trying to look stern, but
not doing a very good job of it.  "You'd better make that apology a good one
or you're in big trouble, Sam."

He looked at her, a bright gleam appearing in his eyes.  "Now, Devon, you
don't need to give me a lecture.  I've been married for over forty years.  I
know how to stand with my hat in hand and toady under."

Devon was darned sure Sam Creswell had never "toadied under" in his whole
life.

They were moving the '~attle from the pasture into the corral to work the
cutting horses when Sam and Chase came through the side gate.  She
experienced a nervous fiut~r in her chest and lmased, and the gelding she was
riding tossed his head and sidestepped, flicking his tail in agitation.  She
let the reins go shck and touched the horse with her heel, cueing him to go
through the gate.  The dust from the moving cows rolled up, and she took her
horse around the back of the herd, trying to stay out of the worst of it.
She saw Sam unhitch the two horses she'd brought down earlier and lead them
over to where Chase was standing.  He said something and handed the reins of
a neat little son el to Chase, then leaned against the corral fence.  Chase
hooked the stirrup over the saddle horn, lisgening to whatever Sam was saying
as he tightened the cinch.  The sober look on his kicked off another flurry
of uneasiness, and Devon motioned for Luke and Anne to take over the herd.

She rode across the outdoor arena, the saddle creaking beneath her, the soft,
warm breeze carrying the scent of silver willow and freshly mown grass.  As
she neared the two men, she saw Chase give Sam a sharp look, as if warning
him about something, and the older man nodded once and swung into the saddle.
She wondered what that was about.

She reined in when she reached them, and Chase shot Sam another quick look,
then continued adjusting his rigging.  ii Not sure what to make of their
silence, she tried to quell uncertain flutter in her belly.  She looked at
Chase.  "Hi.  Are you going to ride turn-back for me?"

He glanced at her, and she knew by the expression in his eyes that he didn't
know whether to be amused or ticked off over her going to Sam over him.
Chase had never liked anyone fighting his' fights for him.  She knew that,
but may he that was part of his whole male charisma.  The thought made her
smile.  She gave him a taunting look.  "What's the matter, McCall?  Did you
get your tongue caught'in the garbage disposal when you were fixing the sink?"

That made his eyes lighten up, and he looked back at what he was doing,
amusement tugging at the corner of ~ mouth.  "You've got a bad mouth on you,
Manyfeathers.  Don't you know you're supposed he nice to your... plumber?"

He might as well have said "lover."  The insinuation was certainly there.
With Sam hanging on every word; wanted to pull her hat down over her eyes and

But in spite of the fact that she was an inch away blushing, she could not
let him get away with it.  "I'm nice to plumbers, McCall.  They're always in
a such a hurry to get the job done."

Chase's hands stilled on the lafigo, and he slowly turned his head and looked
at her, his eyes narrowing dangerously, a glint of reprisal appearing.  He
continued to watch her with that dark, heavy-lidded look; then he spoke, the
husky timbre of his voice loaded with innuendo.  "You want slow, sweetheart?
I can give you slow."

Her insides dropped away into nothingness, and she stared at him, a giddy
weal messing through her.  For an instant she thought she might slide right
out of the saddle.  Hot and cold and deeidedly light-headed, she dredged up a
mildly rebuking 'look and reined her horse around.  "Get your butt in the
saddle, Mccall.  And let's see some real action."

She caught the flash of color out of the corner of her eye, and she heard the
squeak of the saddle.  Sam rode off chuckling as Chase came alongside.  She
looked at him, laughter bubbling up in her, and he settled his hat low over
his eyes, giving her one of those bad-boy grins that had always got her into
trouble.  "Wanna race?"

She looked at the open gate and the field beyond.  And she looked at the two
horses that were worth several thousand dollars each, and who were due to
compete in two weeks.  More than anything she wanted to fly with him ~ she
used to--flat out, racing the wind, going heR-bent for lea thor--but
somewhere along the line she had grounded herself.  She had weighed herself
down--with a sense of duty, with feelings of aeeountab'dity, with
uncertainty--and she had simply ceased to fly.  She wondered when it had
happened, when she had lost the wind beneath her wings.  Chase's mount moved
again at hers, and she looked up, her eyes dark with the jolt of realization.
Chase was watching her,.  an odd, contemplative look in his eyes.  He
reached out and caught her by the back of the neck, giving her a little
shake.  "You wanted to, Slash," he said huskily.  "That's what counts."

She stared at him, suddenly dangerously close to l~rs.  That wasn't what
counted.  What counaxl were all the things she didn't do, all the things
she'd lost because she had become grounded and hadn't even realized it.

That discovery haunted Devon over the next few days.  It was as if her Whole
fe had been brought sharply/nto focus, and she was able to see things she had
never seen before.  It should have been enlightening, but it wasn't.  It was
unsettling.  And it intruded, mostly on her concentration.  She-would find
herself standing and staring at something with her stomach in knots.

And Chase only made it worse.  He had needed her those first few days after
Keith's death--really needed the comfort and solace she could give him.  But
that was changing.  Every day his mood was a little less sombdr, and as his
mood lightened, the more tense hers became.  She would catch herself
anxiously watching for the those old familiar signs of resflessness in him,
and she would get restless herself.  She knew his leaving was inevitable.
And knowing that scared her to death.

She knew that any kind of association with his father would be disastrous,
and Chase was right; without the Bar M, there was nothing for him here.
Besides, he had bnilt a whole new, successful life for himself south of the
border, and he would be a fool to throw that all away.  But knowing that
wasn't going to make it any easier when he left.

She managed to keep up a front during the day, but at night--nights were bad.
All the self-doubts and uncertainties and anxieties would rise up and drive
her frdm her bed.  She had turned into a midnight wanderer, and tonight it
was worse than usual.  Tonight, old me~nories were surfacing, as
well--disturbing memories that made her cold inside.

She stood at the kitchen window, waiting for the kettle to boil, her arms
wrapped around herself, the belt of her robe pulled tight.  Cold.  She
remembered the cold.  And she remembered the terror.  The memory was from
when she was six years old, and her mother had left her alone in a nm-~ down
shack somewhere--somewhere.  It had been cold and rainy, and there was
nothing to eat but some congealed macaroni.  The wind and rain had made the
old house en and groan, and she had huddled on her mattress on' floor, too
scared to go outside to the bathroom.  And

"Kind of making a habit of thi.% at~'t you?"

She was so far away and the sound of his voice so un pected that Devon
jumped, her heart slamming into h gear as adrenaline shot through her.
Closing her eyes, ~ clutched her hand against her chest, not quite able to i
connect from the memory--that frighlening, l~a~fy memory.

Chase came over to where she was standing and cau~ her lindes the chin,
forcing her to look at him.  He wire when he saw her face, then caught her by
the neck ~ pulled her into his embrace--a warm, safe embrace.  I~' turned her
face against him and fought the feelings abandonme:at, of fear, of shame.
She had been six year a and she had wet her bed, and she didn't want to rein
era She didn't want to feel what that child had felt.  And didn't want to cry.

Chase tucked his head down against hers and tight~ his hold, then slowly
rubbed his hand up and down back, "It's okay, babe.  I've got you.  I've got
you."

Of all the things he could have said, nothing could h been more devastating,
more wr~ching.  It was as if he h exact.  h] what kind of emotional trauma
she was eorperk ing right then and was there to lift her out of that nil mare
memory.  She shivered and pressed against him, arms caught agnin~ his cheat,
and Chase tighlened his h{ "You want to talk about it?"

Her ~eeth clamped again.  ~t the well of unshed lzars, shook her head.  He
rubbed his cheek agni mt hers snuggled her closer.  "Do you want to go back
to bed?"

She shook her head again, and he smoothed his ham and down her back, but he
didn't say anything more; he held her, his face tuc!  ~i against hers.  His
warmth physical closeness diffused the disturbing images,

Devon clung to the solidness of him, her eyes fighfiy closed and her jaw
clenched.  It had come out of nowhere, that recollection.  Without warning,
it was just there.

"I think we're go' rag to have to do a little two-stepping here, darling',"
he said, his tone soft.  She started to pull away, but he held her secure.
"Just over to the counter.  That old kettle's boiling its little old heart
out."

There was something in his Colorado drawl and his hokey phrasing that made
her smile, and she turned her head to his shoulder.  "Working the crowd,
McCall?"  she asked, her tone uneven.

She felt him grill, and he gave her braid a tug.  "Well, hell.  I was trying
to impress you with my cowboy charm."

She smiled again.  "I appreciate the effort."  Feeling oddly vulnerable, she
pulled out of his hold and went over to the counter, ' where she pulled the
plug on the electric kettle.  Fighting ag~in~ the tight feeling in her chest,
she opened the cupboard door and reached for the ira ~mister.  "Do you want
some tea?"

There was a brief pause; then he answered.  "May as well."

She fixed a pot of tea and got two mugs out of the cupboard, then carried the
pot and the mugs to the table.  Chase was leaning against the stove watching
her, his ira buttoned jeans riding low on his hips, his arms folded across
his bare chest.  He had an odd, intent look in his eyes, as if he were
disassembling her piece by piece.

She set the ira pot on a place mat and put the cups down beside it, knowing
he was so'ufini~ing her and not lilting the feeling.  Finally he spoke, his
tone offhand.  "I don't suppose you're going to tell me what that was all
about."

She shot him a quick glance, then began filling the mugs.  She had never told
him much about her childhood.  At first she'd been too ashamed to reveal all
she had hidden.  She hadn't wanted him to know what it had been out her
childhood,~ and by the time she and her moved to Bolton, she had learned to
take care of herself and how to cover up the situation at home.  She might
only have had one pair of jeaus, but they were washed every night, and she
made sure her clothes were clean and neat, her hair shampooed and shining.
Thon this dark-haired boy with the killer grin and the sexy eyes happened
along.  And her universe shifted.  Right from the beginning, Chase McCall had
made her feel special.  He made her feel beautiful and smart and courageous
and daring.  She hadn't wanted him ever to see her as that hungry, dirty,
neglected child--the one who wet her bed because she was too l~fified to go
outside, the one who ate dirty orange rinds because that was all ~ was to
eat.  She would have done anything to gain his respect, his approval.  It had
been so easy to be reckless with him, to take crazy chances, because he made
it so obvious that her daring pleased him.  That he was proud of her.  And it
was the first time in her whole life that anybody had felt that way about
her.  There was no pride in dirt and neglect and hunger so she had never told
him.  Never revealed the shame.  "Devon?"

She looked at him, his gamdy perusal making her edgy.  She shook her head and
looked away.  "No," she said, her voice uneven.  "I'm not."

He came over to the table, pulled.  out the chair at the end and sat down.
Bracing his elbows on the tabletop, he laced his hands together, his thumbs
resting against his mouth as he continued to watch her.  Her hands not qui~e
steady, she set a sam ming cup of tea in front of him, then sat down and
cupped her hands around the hot earthenware.  He watched her for a moment,
then took a sip from his mug and set it on the place mat in front of him.  He
fingered the handle for a moment, then looked at her, his expression mild.
"Why didn't you tell me you were trying to raise the financing to buy Sam
out?"

She had her mug halfway to her mouth, and she abruptly set it down, tea
slopping over the edge.  She stared at him, her heart lurching in her chest.
She held his gaze for a mo-meat, then abruptly looked at her hands, caught so
off guard that she couldn't even think.  "How did you find out?"

"I saw the letter from your bank, and I read it.  Then I mentioned it to Sam
when we had our little talk."

She looked at him, trying to recover her equilibrium.  "You had no business
reading my mail," she a,swered abruptly.

He gave hera humor leas smile.  "Don't pull that crap on me, Dev," he said, a
hint of warning in his tone.  "It was lying loose in that pile of junk by the
phone, and I opened it to see if I could write on the back."

Remembering that that was exactly where she'd tossed it af~ reading it, she
1oolaxl at her mug.  She wasn't sure why his question made her feel so
exposed or so guilty--or so underhanded.  She rubbed her nail along the base
of her mug, then spoil, her voice uneven.  "I discussed it with Sam after" --
She took a deep breath, trying to fortify herself.  "After you left this
winter.  I thought maybe we could work out some nmmgement."  She waited, a
nervous fiut~r in her stomach, expecting a whole host of questions.  But he
didn't say anything at all, and f'many she looked at him, certain she had
lost every speck of color from her face.

~ was slouched down in his chair, watching her, his head tipped to one side,
his arms folded aero~ his chest, and Devon loo lanl sway again.  The silence
stretched out between them, and she fidgeted with the corner of the place
mat, trying to blink away the burning sensution in her eyes.  Finally he
spoke, his voice quiet.  "Why?"

Startled nnd confused by the question, she lifted her head and stared at him,
her expression numb.  "Pardon?"

He gave her a small half smile, his gaze dark and penetrating.  "It's a
pretty simple question, Der.  Why Silver Springs?  There are a half dozen
trainers around who would hire you on a minute, and probably cut you in on a
percentage, besides."  He paused, his eyes still fixed on her.  "So tell me,"
he said softly, "why is Silver Springs so important to you?"

Devon didn't know where the sudden spasm of unbearable desolation came from,
and she didn't know why that little girl had come out of hiding now, but
suddenly her eyes filled and she sat staring at him, hurting so much for the
child she had been.  How could she tell him?  How could she explain it to
him, when she had only just rediscovered that wounded child herself?  Tears
spilled over, and she turned.  away and quickly wiped them, feeling ashamed
and ex Bracing his hands on the table, Chase rose, then reached across and
caught her face.  Tipping her head back, he leaned over and kissed her with
such immeasurable care that more tears spilled over.  Tightening his hold on
her face, he slowly withdraw, then trailed his knuckles down her cheek.
"When you figure it out and you're ready to talk, let me know, darling'," he
said huskily.  He kissed her again, then straightened, giving her shoulder a
little squeeze.  "Finish your tea.  I'm going back to bed."

Badly shaken by the shifting, disturbing images in her mind, she stared after
him, his question sending a reverberation of a shadowy, half-remembered fear
through her.  It was as though her' whole foundation had abruptly erum-bled
away and she was suddenly standing on shifting sand.

Resting her forehead on her upraised knees, she dosed her eyes and locked her
arms around her legs, trying to quell the heart-racing panic.  She had never
been good at facing ghosts or at self-analysis because she had never wanted
to look back--looking back meant fac/ng all that fear and hurt and shame.
Devon tried to will away the panic, but it wouldn't let go.  It was like a
huge hand clutching her chest.  Maybe this time there was no escape.  Maybe
this time she was going to have to go back through the maze before she could
find her way out.

Chapter 13

It was as it someone had picked a protective layer of scales off her body,
expos' rag patches of sensitive flesh.  The light seemed brighter, her skin
more sensitive, sounds more intrusive.  She was more sensitized to the
movements and temperaments of the horses, more aware of evezything that was
happening around her.  It was as if she had been suddenly cast adrift, then
had resurfaced in a strange and unfamiliar place.  That awful sensation of
being disconnected from ev~jthing familiar left her feeling shaky and unsure
and oddly exposed.  And memories--disturbing memories-had begun floating to
the surface of her mind, shadowy, indistinct memories that had no shape.  But
they weren't memories of things or places.  They were memories of feelings.
And in some ways, those were even worse.

She felt haunted, and it was nearly impossible for her to stay focused on
anything.  And Chase never made any ref-ere ace to what had happened in the
kitchen that night.  It was as though it hadn't, and that made her feel even
more vulnerable.

For three days she felt as if she was stripped naked inside, and that feeling
was made even more acme by a situation that should have had no effect at all.
It had been one hell of a day, and she had gone to bed early wit ha dull
headache.  A low-grade ache in the small of her back had awakened her.
Careful riot to disturb Chase, she slipped out of bed and went into the
bathroom.  The light in the small room seemed piercingly bright, and the
heaviness in her belly made her feel slightly dizzy.  But what finally broke
her was the visual confirmation that her period had star led She hadn't
realiTed how much she'd hoped she was pregnant, nor was she prepared for the
wrenching sense of loss on discovering she wasn't.

She went back to bed and slid in beside Chase, curling herself around his
back.  He stirred and caught her arm, drawing it around him, then sighed and
tucked her hand against his chest.  It was such a small, unconscious gesture,
but somehow momentous, and Devon molded herself against him and closed her
eyes, struggling against a profound ache.  Sometimes it was that kind of
comfort she missed the most.

The headache was still there when she awoke in the morning, compounded by a
heavy dullness that made every movement an effort.  Chase was.  on the phone
to his parmer when she left for the arena, and for some reason that started
the ache in her chest all over again.

The clouds on the western horizon were still undercoated with slate gray,
while the upper eastern strata were burnished with orange and gold and deep,
deep coral.  Soft purple wisps trailed out behind those clouds like the wake
of a boat, painting the sky with slashes of color.  On most mornings like
this, she felt that if she could ~kc a deep enough breath, she would be able
to absorb all the colors and hues, all the open-sky beauty.  But today the
magic didn't work-for her, and she turned and started w~ilring down the trail
that led to the arena.  The long grass along the path was wet with dew, and
the boughs on the pine trees shed a heavenly fragrance along with beads of
water.  Devon noticed the cluster of wood violets in a hollow between two
aspen, the waxy, heart-shaped leaves funnel ink dewy moisture to their roots.
She crouched down and lightly touched the fragile white blossoms, a funny
feeling unfolding in her chest.  So exquisite, so delicate, and for all their
fragility, they somehow survived.  She wondered if they would survive
transplanting.  That startling thought made her heart skip a bit, and she
rose, not wanting to consider the reason.

It was not a good morning.  She decided to ride in the indoor arena because
Luke was making some repairs to the fence on the outdoor one, and she didn't
want any distrac-tious.  The first horse she rode was a two-year-old colt who
had the breeding and conformifion of a champion, but who had a bad attitude.
He tried to buck off the saddle, he tried to buck her off, and then he
wouldn't move at all.  She gave up.  and had Anne pony him while she
continued to ride him, and she kept at it until he finally decided to
cooperate.  Even so, it was a battle of wills, and her neck was wet with
sweat when she finally dismounted.  He was also wet with sweat, but he stood
like a lamb.  Then, the minute she turned away, be nipped her on the butt.
She wanted to kick him.  The second horse, a veteran cutter, simply stepped
out from under her.  Just as she was swinging into the saddle, the stallion
abruptly sidestepped, and she found herself face-down in the shavings.

Swearing under her breath, she got up and dusted the worst of the dirt off
her chaps, wanting to kick him, too.  She looked up and found Chase hanging
on the gate, his elbows hooked over the top, a smile tugging at the corner of
his mouth, and she could tell by the look on his face that be had been
watching for quite a while.  "Nice dismount, Many-feathers," he said, a gleam
in his eyes.  "It's the first 6me

I've ever seen anyone do a perfect belly flop in dirt.  " " Shut up, McCall.
"

The glint intensified.  "You've got dirt up your nose."

She gave him a foul look and wiped her face, then swept up her hat.  "Keep it
up and you're going to have something up your nose.  Like maybe a fence post."

He grinned and tipped his chin at the horse, who stood qulefiy beside her.
"Maybe the two of you could join a circus.  It'd moke a bell of an act.  You
could change your name to the Flying Martini or something."

Devon gave him.  another disgusted look.  "This/s a cir-cas, McCall.  And
thi.~ whole show is an act."  She bent at the waist, twisted her hair on top
of her head and covered it with her baseball cap.  Straightening, she
gathered the reins and glared at him.  "Why don't you find something to do?
!.ike unload the manure spreader?"

Resting his chin on his folded arms, he stared at her, the lines around his
eyes crinkling.  "Why dou't you show me your new bite mark inslind?"

"Give it a rest, McCall," she said, her tone cranky.  "The only thing I'm
going to show you today is a hard time."

He continued to stare at her, a warm, sensual gleam appearing in his eyes.
Devon could feel the sexual heat from ten feet away.

The gleam in his eyes intensified, and he gave her a s10w~ lazy smile.  "A
hard time, huh?"

Determined not to give him the satisfaction of making her .  ~mile, she
stared at him, gave an exasperated sigh and spoke, her tone very dry.  "Get
your hand out of your pocket, McCall.  This isn't playtime."

He grinned in response, his eyes alight with that same sensual glint.

"Hey, Chase.  You wanted on the phone!"

He kept his gaze fixed on her.  "Thank.% Jimmy!"  Then be smiled that slow,
bad-boy smile of his.  "Hey, Slash," he said, his voice low and husky and
loaded with intimacy.

She could feel the heat of that bedroom tone right down' to her toes, and her
knees felt suddenly weak.  "What?"

His eyes held hers" that same sensual look still there.  " Just so you know.
" She wailed, wondering just how far he would take it.  He smiled, the laugh
lines deepening.  " You still have dirt up your nose.  "

If she hadn't been caught in such a daze, she would have strangled him with
the reins.

By midafternoon Devon was feeling so thick headed and leaden that all she
wanted to do was crawl into a corner and die.  The headache was back, and the
dull hentviness in her abdomen made her feel even more slug~sh.  Chase had
been oddly quiet after he got the phone call, so she assumed it had something
to do with Keith.  But his somber mood left her feeling even more exposed,
more weighed down.

Taking into account the mood she was in, she didn't even bother to get on her
last two mounts of the day, knowing it was going to be a waste of effort for
both her and the horses.  Instead, sh~ climbed to tile second tier of the
bleachers in the indoor arena to watch Chase make the first contact with a
young filly that had been delivered four days before.  She was a
beauty--fine-boned, perfect head and wide, intelligent eyes.  But she had
been badly abused by her previous owner, and her new owners had barely been
able to get a halter on her.  By the time Sam and Luke got her from the back
paddock and into the arena, she was lathered 'and quivering with fear, and as
soon as Sam tried to approach her, she got a wild look in her eyes and spun
away.

The new owner had sent her to four other trainers, and they had gotten
nowhere with her.  In spite of her stellar breeding and near-perfect
conformation, she was a mined horse.  But this lit He performance was going
to be Chase McCall at his very best.

Devon had never seen anyone do what Chase was going to try with her--and Sam
had only ever seen it used once, years before.  When he and Sam had first
discussed it as an option, Chase had lrased her that it was an old Indiah
trick, and maybe it was, but it bothered her nonetheless.  But she also knew
that this horse was so wild there was no other choice.  They had to do
something that wouldn't confine the animal, that wouldn'the~calate her fear
but would get the horse to approach a human.  They had left the filly without
water for the best part of two days, until there were signs of dehydration,
hoping that thirst would overcome the horse's innate fear.

Now Chase was going to work his special brand of magic.  Devon had seen him
work it a hundred times in the past, but never with such cxheme measures, or
on a horse that was so governed by panic.  Drawing up her knees and locking
her arms around her legs, she sat motionless as she watched Chase walk to the
middle of the arena with a big plastic dishpan of water in his hands, his
back to the trembling horse.  When he reached the middle of the arena, he
turned and faced her and started talking, his voice quiet and soothing.
"Come on, sweetheart.  It's okay.  Come on, little da ding Come on, sweet
thing, nobody's going to hurt you here."

The filly spun away, and Chase kept turning to face her, talking to her the
whole time.  Devon rested her chin on her knees, trying to ignore the sudden
tightness in her throat.  So much fear, so little trust.

Left on her own, the horse finally set fled down, and she turned to face
Chase, her ears pricked toward the sound of his voice and the sloshing water.
He kept talking and sloshing the water, coaxing her to him with her thirst
and his patience.  It.  took fifteen minute, but the horse finally took a
step toward him, and Devon held her breath.  It was another ten minutes
before she took another step.  The crooning tone of Chase's voice never
altered.  Quiet, reassuring, soothing.  The content, however, took on new
color, and Devon found herself smiling.

"Come on, you damned piece of sass.  Come on.  Come here.  Quit being such a
snot.  Come on.  Game's over, little darling'."  The horse stretched out her
neck in the direction of the basin and took a s,~.  Then another.  Chase
sloshed some more water.  "Come on, pretty girl.  Come on."

Another step.  Then two more, as if yielding to the collective urging of
everyone watching.  Sam, Devon, Luke, Anne, even Jimmy--it was like a force
field, the absolute stillness, the tension, each of them s'denfiy willing the
horse toward the water, knowing each step was a step taken in fear.  A step
toward building trust.  He was offering the filly~indness in the form of cool
water; she was reaching for it with hard-learned wariness.  It was
nerve-racking to watch.

The filly took another step and stretched her neck toward the basin, and
Chase tipped it toward her, letting her see inside, talking to her, coaxing
her forward.  She pricked her ears, smelling the water, and they all wails!
with hated breath, urging her to take that final step.

Finally she did.  She dropped her head and took a quick drinks then jerked
her head up and shied back.  Chase extended the basin and kept talking to
her.  It took another bout of coaxing in soft tones, and Devon had almost
given up hope, when the filly took that critical step forward, dropped her
head and drank deeply.  Devon's throat closed up completely, and her jaw
ached.  It was so wrenching to watch, the building of that first fragile bond
between man and beast.  It was like~ watching a miracle unfold.

She expected the filly to wheel away as soon as she drank her fill, but she
didn't.  Continuing to talk to her, Chase very slowly lowered the empty basin
and reached out his free hand.  Devon again expected the horse to bolt, but
the f'dly tossed her head and took a single step backward.  Chase kept
crooning to her and took a step toward her, his hand outstretched.  The horse
watched him, her' ears flicking at the soft singsong tone of his voice.  He
took another step for-ward--and another miracle happened.  The filly
hesitated, then dropped her head and sniffed his outstretched hand.  Suddenly
blinded by feelings she couldn't even identify, Devon soundlessly slipped
from the row of bleachers and headed outside.  It was as if Chase had reached
inside her and touched something that was raw and tender and hurt-inC.
Something she couldn't face.

She mounl~l the first horse she found saddled and headed to the back pasture,
not sure what she was running from, but running anyway.

It was nearly five o'clock when she returned to the lower barn.  It was
obvious from the freshly swept alleyway and the state of the stalls that Anne
and Jimmy had finished doing cho~s, and Devon experienced a dull sense of
relief.  The last thing she wani~xi was to see anyone.  Almost too tired to
move, she dismounted, then-removed the sad die and put it in the tack room,
every movement an effort.  She led her mount to the side paddock and stripped
off the bridle, watching as the horse found a suitable spot and rolled.
Breaking one of her own rules about always putting tack away, she hung the
bridle on a hook just inside the door, then started up the trail behind the
arena.  All she wanl~xi was to avoid everybody, go home, have a shower and
crawl into bed.

By the time she walked up the path to the house, her legs were aching and her
head was thick and throbbing.  She let the screen door slam shut behind her,
and she knew before she even entered the kitchen that the house was empty.
She found a note from Chase on the table, saying he'd gone into town and that
he'd be home about six.  She lisflessly slid the note into a slot by the
telephone, then headed toward the bathroom, rolling her head to ease the
tension in her shoulders.  Maybe an hour's nap would clear her head.

The feel of someone pulling the comforter up around her woke her, and she
tried to swim through the gray weight of unconsciousness, her mind thick with
sleep.  It vaguely registered that she was huddled in bed with her hands
under her face, trying to ward off the chill, her oversize T-shirt twisl~!
up around her waist.  Feeling as if she weighed a ton, she slowly opened her
eyes, her body so heavy she couldn't move.  Chase was sitting on the bed
beside her, his hand on her shoulder, gazing ~ at her.  "Packed it in, did
you?"  She stared at him, feeling almost drugged.  "Yeah."

He tucked the quilt around her shoulders, then drew her hair from her face,
his touch warm and comforting.  "Cramps?"  he asked softly.

She nodded, and Chase shifted his hand and began rubbing the small of her
back, a smile appearing in his eyes.  "I

don't imagine that face-plant this morning helped much.  " She didn't even
have the energy to smile.  " Not much.  "

He snuggled the comforter around the back of her neck,

then rubbed her collarbone with him thumb.  "Still cold?"  She nodded,
feeling just a little too close to tears.  "Would you like something to eat?"

Her hands still tucked under her face, Devon shook her head.  "Not really.
But I'll get up if you're going to fix something for yourself."

"I'm not.  I had a hamburger in town."  Withdrawing his arm, he stood up, and
Devon thought he was going to leave But he undid the buckle and removed his
belt and hung it over the headboard.  Taking the wallet out of the back
pocket of his jeans, he laid it on the bedside table, then stretched out
beside her.  Here," he said, sliding his arm under her neck, pulling her
toward him.  " Let me warm you' up.  " He drew her head onto his shoulder,
then kissed her on the forehead and wrapped both arms around her.

Devon closed her eyes and rested her arm across his chest, her throat
suddenly tight.  She had learned a hard lesson when she was very small, that
she was the only one she could depend on to take care of her.  No one was
ever going to take care of her, or provide for her, or keep her warm--and be,
cause of that she had acquired a kind of internal tough-ness.  She couldn't
allow herse~ to be dependent or fragile; she would never have survived if she
had.  But right then, simply didn't have any resources left to draw on.  And
he was there, sheltering her, providing her with' warmth and strength, taking
care of her and keeping her safe.  It was as if he knew just how defenseless
she was.

He brushed a soft kiss against her, temple then slid his arm around her waist
and spread his hand wide across her belly, his touch oddly intimate as he
tried to ease her discomfort.  It was almost more than she could handle, and
Devon tightened her arm around him and turned her face against his neck,
struggling against the growing fullness in her chest.  She didn't know what
was wrong or why she felt the way she did.  It was as if everything she'd
built was collapsing around her, as if all her safety nets were gone.

"Dev, honey," he murmured softly, "do you have something you can take for
this?"

It was almost ~mny.  What kind of pill could she possibly take for this kind
of confusion, for this sudden loss of balance-as though someone had turned
her whole existence upside down?  She waited for the ache in her throat to
ease.  "It's okay," she answered unevenly.  "It'll pass."

He smoothed back her hair, then gave her head a little shake.  "Determined to
tough it out, huh?"

She nodded, then shifted her head on his shoulder and stared across the room.
"Where did you go?"

Chase went still, and Devon realiTed what she had said.  She had never done
that before--asked him where he was or who he was with.  If he brought up
something, she would ask questions, but she was well aware that she had never
initiated that kind of conversation or asked for an explanation before.  She
had sworn she would never pry.  If she ever had, then that would open the
door for him to.  to what?  Her heart went dead still, and she froze, a
startled sensation ill-tering through her.  Was it because she thought it was
none of her business--or was it a case of guarding her own vulnerability?

Chase caught her along the jaw and tipped his head back so he could see her
face.  His gaze was intent, but there was an odd smile hovering around his
mouth, as if she had said something that had saddeaed him.  "It doesh't come
easy for you, does it, Dev?"

Guilt unfolded in her and she stared at him, unable to answer him.  She
wondered how many times she'd hurt him in their lifetime--and how many times
she'd done it without even realizing it.

The expression in his eyes softened a little, and the corner of his mouth
lifted with a trace of wry humor.  "Don't worry, babe.  I won't ask back."

It made her feel worse when she reali~,ed how clearly he had read her.  And
it made her feel even more guilty that he expected nothing back from her--as
if he had resigned himself to her reticence a long time ago.  She was still
struggling with that unsetfiing thought when he drew her head against his
shoulder.  He didn't say anything, as if he was mulling something over in his
mind; then he reconnected with a little hug and exhaled heavily.  "I was in
town talking to MAlt.  He phoned this morning, and he was pretty upset.

I figured I owed him a few explanations, at least.  "

"Upset about what?"

"His life, my old man, my not taking the Bar M off his hands.  I can't say I
blame him.  But I think we got some things sorted out."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that the ranch isn't his responsibility.  Like no matter what
he does or how hard he tries, it's never going to.be good enough.  That he's
got to say to hell with it and get out before it drives him nuts.  He's
actually pretty pumped up over this political thing, so we talk~ about that I
told him I thought he'd do a hell of a job if he got elected--and by the
sounds of things, I think he stands a damned good chance.  Maybe that'll be
all it takes for to break loose."

Lying on her side with her head on his shoulder, Devo~.  stared across the
room, thinking about Chase's brother.  All his life, Milton had competed
against Chase for his father's ~ approval.  It had to be so degrading--having
eve~ effor~ belittled and demeaned.  At least she'd never had to endure that
as a child--she'd just had to cope with alcoholic gleet.  She blinked and
shift!  her head.  "What's going happen to the ranch?"

"Miles got a new manager lined up.  Someone who managed one of the big
spreads in the interior of British Columbia.  Who knows?  Mayhe my old man
will end up selling

His comment left her with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach.  She
understood his feelings about the ranch, she truly did, but she'd always had
this small, secret hope that the Bar M would someday bring Chase McCall back
to stay.  But it would never happen.  Not as long as Bruce McCall was alive.
And that was another reality she'd been .  skirting for a long, long time.

Chase tightened his arm around her back.  and began rob bing his hand up and
down her arm.  "Still cold?"

She shook her head.

"I'll fix you something to eat if you're getting hungry."

 "No.   I don't want anything."

The breeze from the open window rattled the blind, and Devon closed her eyes
against the flutter of brightness.  She could tell by the chirping of the
robins and the angle of the light that the shadows were getting long.  She
liked this time of day--when it started to cool off and the shadows got long
and the clouds would start to pile up against the jagged ridge of the
mountains.  It softened the landscape, somehow.

Resting his cheek against the top of her head, Chase continued to stroke her
arm, and she settled deeper into his embrace and released a long sigh.

When she awoke the second time she was alone and dusk had infiltrated the
room.  She could hear the muted sound of guitars coming from the front room,
and the fragrance of freshly brewed coffee pricked at her nose.  She rolled
onto her back and stared into the deepening twilight, trying to fight through
the sludge in her mind.  Heaving a sigh, she threw back the comforter and got
up, the rush of movement making her sway.  She waited for the sensation to
pass, then shivered and picked up her robe from the end of the bed.  Her eyes
closed, she struggled into it, her actions awkward and uncoordinalixl.  She
felt as if her body was just too heavy to move.  She went to the bathroom and
splashed some cold water on her face and brushed her teeth.  But that didn't
help much.  She still felt groggy.

She found Chase sitting at the kitchen-table reading a newspaper, a cup of
coffee by his elbow.  A breeze from the kitchen window made her shiver, and
she huddled into the warmth of her robe.  "Hi," she said, her voice still
thick with sleep.

He lifted his head and looked at her, a smile appearing in his eyes.  "Well,
hello.  You took your sweet time waking up."

She hunched her shoulders and tightened her arms in front of her.  "You
wouldn't know a sweet time if it jumped up and bit you in the face, McCall."

The glint in his eyes intensified.  "Ah," he said, his tone significant.
"Feeling just a little cranky, are we?"

"I wouldn't push it if I were you, Slick.  I'm in no mood for cute."  '

He watched her as she sat down adjacent to him, clearly amused by her
irritability.  "I can see that."  He pushed part of the newspaper in front of
her, then got up and went to the counter.  He poured another cup of coffee
and brought it to the table and set it down in front of her.  He sat down
again and went back to reading the newspaper.  Devon didn't want to read the
newspaper.  She didn't want to be ignored.  she didn't want to talk, either,
so she settled for the.  coffee.  She could never ~e, member feeling so
contrary.  Maybe was just losing her mind.

She worked her way through half a cup of coffee, then drew up her knees and
tinted her cheek on them, her mind adrift, still more asleep than awake.  She
focused on Chase,

"You need a haircut."  He ignored her.  "And a shave."

"Can it, Manyfeathers."

That made her ~mile.  "What's for supper?"

That Same Old l~'eeung

He raised his head and responded with' a long, s~ stare.

She held his gaze, smiling at him.  "You offered."  Chase continued to stare
at her, then he dk~ni.  ~sed ploy with a malicious smile.  "I did.  But I'm
not offi now."

Her head still resting on' her upraised knees, ~ tr~ entice him.  "There are
T-bone steaks d~ros~d tn fridge."

Studying her with a mixture of tolerance and ament he roclmd back in his
chair and hooked his thur~ the pockets of his jeans.  "Just out of curiosity,
what & live on when I'm not around?  Cmcker~ and jam?"

It caught her off guard, the little jolt of pain that right through her
heart.  She didn't want to be rein about what it was like when he wasn't
there.  It hm much.

Chase's eyes narrowed a fraction, and he stared a then he let his chair down
with a thud.  His gaze su( dark and serious, he leaned forward and tested his
ar the table.  "We need to have a talk, Der," he said sof~

Devon stared at him, a feeling of apprehension tting in her belly.  Then he
reached across the table and ~ her by the wrist, silently urging her to her'
feet.  He did an~hing as he led her into the living room, but she feel the
tension in him, and her apprehension tim dread.

He stretched out on the sofa, his back braced again arm; then he pulled her
down and settled her actms.  l He brushed the loose wisps of hair from around
he then drew her head down against his shoulder.  Devc to brace herself for
what was coming, but nothinf.  soften the hard, cold reality of his words.
"Ernie l this afternoon," he said, his tone quiet.  "He's g~ major problems
down there, so I'm going to ha~n back."  He hesitated,.  trying to prepare
her.  "I was book a flight for tomorrow morning at eleven."

The chill of alarm went bone deep, and Devon closed her eyes against it, her
heart suddenly too big for her chest.  Not tomorrow.  Not now, when her whole
life was upside down.  It was too soon.  Much too soon.  She made herself
unclench her jaw, and she eased in an uneven breath, not wanting him to know
how much his announcement had shaken her.  As if sensing it anyway, Chase
tightened his hold on her.  "I'm sorry, babe," he whispered gruffly.  "But I
gotta go."

She closed her eyes tighter and swallowed hard.  "I

Chase exhaled heavily and pressed his cheek against the top of her head.
"You gotta understand that this time of year is crazy for us, Der.  Ernie's
up to his armpits in alligators," and I've been gone too long as it is.  "

She slid both-arms around him and hugged him hard.  She hung on to him for as
long as she dared; then she physically pulled herself together.  She wasn't
going to make a scene, and she wasn't going to make it any harder on him than
it already was.  She had made her choice Now she had to learn to live with it.

She forced a droll tone into her voice.  "So, Slick.  Does this mean I get
hash browns with my steak?"

He chuckled and gave her a tight squeeze.  "Don't you ever stop thinking
about your stomach, Manyfeathers?"

 "Not if I can help it."

"" God, but you're a snot.  " He ran his hand up her back, then hoisted her
to her feet and came up behind her.  " Up and at 'era, scout.  No damned way
are you going to get to sit this one out.  "

Devon somehow managed to disconnect from the hard, cold reality that Chase
was soon going to be gone from her life again.  She got through the meal
preparation, and she got through the meal itself.  She even managed to go to
sleep after they went to bed.  But there was no way she could make it through
the night.

A disturbing dream captured her--a dream of outstretched hands and a coaxing
voice--and suddenly she was the little filly in the arena, wanting to go to
the reassuring sound of the voice, wanting to approach, but a dark and
disturbing fear held her back.  Then the voice and reassurance dissolved into
a yawning black hole, and she was trapped by it.  And no matter how
frantically she searched, there was no way out.  Then suddenly she was
falling, fall She awoke with a start, her heart hammering, panic gripping
he~.  But it wasn't until she threw back the covers and stumbled out of bed
that she reali:,ed She was trembling.  Shaken and cold, she crept to the
living room and wrapped herself in one of the Mexican blankets, then curled
up in the corner of the sofa.  She had never had any exposure to Indian
spirituality, and she knew nothing of the lore, but she understood about
dreams.  She'd always understood about dreams.  And she understood this one.

Every critical decision she had ever made in her whole life had been governed
by fear.  She had never wanted to admit that.  Giving in to fear was a
weakness, and she couldn't afford to be weak.  ~She had straggled so hard to
l~ave the shame and hum'diation behind, to make something of herself so she
would be respected.  But the biggest reason for not wanting to admit the fear
was that if she ever admitted it: she would have to face it straight on.

She didn't want to acknowledge what had happened between Chase and the little
filly that aft tn-noon.  She had run rather than face it.  She didn't know
how many times--hundreds of them--she had wanted to reach out and take what
he had offered, but fear had always outweighed the wanting.  She remembered
another dream--a terrifying dream from her childhood--and she still clearly
remembered, in frightening detail, 'the precursor to that dream.  She had
been eight or nine, and she and her mother had been traveling somewhere with
a man.  They had stopped by the side of the road, and her mother had made
sandwichea.  There had been a field of thistles--sweet-smelling thistles,
their old blos-soil Is crow lied like miniature ballerina dancers--and she
had run around the edge, knocking the seeded blooms with a stick to make them
fly.  She had lain on the ground, watching them soar, fascinated by the
hundreds of whirling seeds shining silver in the sun.  Clouds moved in and it
turned cold, and she went back to the mad.  But the road was empty.  The car
was gone, and she was alone, and scared, so scared.

She had been running down the road, her heart beating in her chest so hard
she couldn't breathe, when they returned, drunk and laughing.  That night
marked the first time she had the thistle dream--where she was a thistle seed
caught in the wind, floating in the breeze, whirling and dancing.  But then
the sky turned dark, and the wind carried her higher and higher, and she knew
if she couldn't reach the ground and grab on to something she would be carded
away and lost forever.  Since then the dream had recurred with frightening
regularity.  It had terrified her so badly that she used to tie her ankle to
the bed, so she would be anchored, so she couldn't be carried aloft and lost
forever.

Sam Creswell and the Silver Springs Stables had been her anchor.  When her
mother took off when she was sixl~en, Sam and Marj had taken her in.  Sam had
taught her everything he knew, and he had given her her first real home, a
place where she belonged, and, in time, recognition and respectability.  She
was no longer the hungry, dirty waif of a child.  She was a horse trainer
with a respected reputation, a person with roots and self-esteem.  Or so she
liked to believe.

But Chase McCall was her nemesis.  He had been right from the very first.  He
had lempted her and lmsed her and taught her how to fly.  She wanted a life
with him moro than anything, but she was afraid to let go.  He thought it was
because she didn't trust him--and maybe, on one level, she didn't.  Maybe she
was afraid he would disappear like her mother had on countless occasions, and
she would he caught aloft with no anchor, lost forever.

Hugging the blanket around her, Devon wiped her face and stared blindly into
the darkness, every barrier she had ever erected in pieces at her feet.  She
had convinced herself that she couldn't leave S'fiver Springs because Sam
needed her, because she owed him everything.  But that had been her
protective cover, her excuse, something to hide behind.

But she couldn't use that as an excuse any longer.  She had stayed because
she was afraid to let go.

Now all she could see was Chase's hand outstretched to the filly," coaxing
her to come, to trust him.  She wasn't sure she had that kind of courage.

Chapter 14

The feel of callused hands cradling her face and a soft, moist kiss brought
her awake, the scent of familiar after-shave making her want to curl into the
warmth.  Her mind weighed down with sleep, Devon opened her mouth beneath the
pressure, savoring the warmth, the gentleness, the sweetness of the caress,
the minty taste of toothpaste piquing her senses.  The warmth roused her, and
she yielded to the searching kiss, lost in a thousand sensations.  So sweet.
So warm.  So unbelievably gentle.  It was everything.

The hold on her head tightened and the pressure lifted and an amused voice
intruded on the floating sensation; "That's a hell of a way to kiss a man who
just finished packing his suitcases, darling'.  Don't you know anything about
playing fair?"

Feeling as if she were swimming through warm, swirling water, Devon
reluctantly opened her ~yes, not wanting to !  ~t go of the floating
sensation.

Chase smiled a soft, lopsided smile, his eyes emotion.

Still more asleep than awake, she smiled back, loving the feel of his hands
against her face.  "Hi," she whispered sleepily.

The smile deepened.  "What are you doing out here, Manyfeathers?  Don't you
like the company you keep?"

She gazed at him, so groggy that her mind refused to function.  She managed a
drowsy smile.  "Who are you?"

He'grinned; then he leaned over and gave her another no-nonsense kiss.
"You're a real piece of sass, Manyfeathers.  And a pain in the butt, to
boot."  He let go of her and leaned back, amusement glinting in his eyes as
he slid his hand under the blanket and up her naked thigh, his touch making
her shiver.  "All snug and warm, are we?"

She yawned and rested her head on the arm of the sofa, unable to keep her
eyes open.  "Yep."

He rose, then, before she had a chance to protect herself, he snatched the
blanket and yanked it loose, rolling her onto the floor.  He stood with his
feet braced apart, a tormenting grin on his face.  "Well, now you're not."

She scrambled to her feet, trying to grab the blanket.  "Damn it, McCall.
Give me that blanket."

His grin broadened, and he tossed the blanket across the room, then stood so
she couldn't get by him.  "Not a chance."  He ought her off guard again when
he came at her and, in one swift, powerful move, hoisted her over his
shoulder.  "Game's over, Slash.  Time to hit the shower."

She knew it would be a cold one if he ever got her through.  the bathroom
door, and she fought against his hold, her loose hair blinding her.  She got
her fingers under his ribs, and he nearly dropped her, but he tightened his
hold on her legs and hoisted her higher onto his shoulder.  His voice
breaking with laughter and exertion, he tried to drag her through the
bathroom door.  "That little piece of cheek is going to cost you big time,
Manyfeathers."

Holding on to the door frame with both hands, she tried to kick free, her
laughter weakening her.  "Cut it out, Chase."  Realizing that wasn't going to
work and that she

That was losing her grip, she tried pleading.  "Please.  Please.  make you
breakfast.  I'll shine your boots.  Anything:'

Adjusting his grip on her legs, he grabbed one tried to break her hold on the
door frame.  "Too late.  You'~ ~ going in."

She knew it was only a matter of time.  Laughing and of breath, unable to see
a thing for her hair, she back for leverage and bit him hard on the backside.
action was instantaneous.  "Ouch!  What the hell... !"  ~

Before he could recover, she kicked loose and down his back, landing in a
heap on the floor.  wasn't over until she brought him down,~ she around the
calves and Used her shoulder against of his knees.  He let out a yell and
went down like a hay bales.  Sweeping her hair from her face, she him,
laughing and out of breath and feeling "Nice buns, McCall."

He rolled over onto his-back, his chest heaving,

mixing with his shormess of breath.  "Damn it you fight dirty.  It was a
figure of speech, yot being a pain in the butt."

She grinned at him.  "Well, now it's not."  Smiling into her eyes, he reached
up and handful of hair and drew her toward him.  As was within reach, he
caught her around the back andi her on top of him.  Trapping last of his
laughter in a sigh, then wrapped panionable embrace.  "That's a hell of way
to start a ing, woman.  You damn near killed me."

It was at that instant that it all the time she had left with him.  In a
matter would be gone, and she would be left with nothing and shiny in her
life.

Closing her eyes against the sudden burst of pain,

her arms' around his neck and held on to him,

loss so intense that it made her shudder.  It death, knowing she could be
saying goodbye to him for' very last time.

As if sensing the change in her, Chase caught her by back of the head and
tightened his hold, his embrace s demy rife with tension.  "I'm going to mi~
you like Manyfeathers," he said, his voice husky and uneven.  don't know how
I could have got through these past l days without you.  "

Her jaw locked against the ache in her throat, she t/~ ened her arms, trying
to will away the awful fullness bu ing in her eyes.  She didn't dare think
about what he'd b like that night in the hotel room, and she didn't dare th
about what was ahead of her.  She would never get th rot the next few hours
if she did.  Easing in a deep, tremull breath, she turned her face against
his neck, trying to sorb as much of his warmth and strength as she cot Enough
to get her through this.  Enough to hold her get her

Chase released a heavy sigh and smoothed his hand up back, then turned his
head and kissed her forehead.  "Do Der," he whispered gruffly.

Knowing what he was asking, she swallowed hard~ gave him a little jab in the
shoulder.  "You lost, McC Which means you make breakfast."

~ He chuckled and rubbed his hand across her hips, ping her f'umly against
his groin.  "Hey.  I figure I did all for myself."

Reaching down deep for a smile, she raised her head looked at him, gazing
into his eyes.  "Making lemonade of lemons again, Slick?"

He grinned and slid his hand under the elastic band of panties.  -"I never
did check out your bite mark."

She gave hima dry, steady look.  "Too bad.  Now yot got one of your very own."

His gaze warm and intimate, he stared at her, alive with delight.  Then
something fiicka~ in his eyes,

he looked away, his expression suddenly strained.  'q better get up," he
said, his voice husky.

She got off him, and he rolled to his feet, then caught he~ by the hand and
pulled her up.  He stared at her, ~hen fully tucked her hair behind her ears.
"You go ahead and~ dt~sed.  I'll make breakfast."

Feeling suddenly shaky inside, she swallowed hard nodded, then turned away,
her throat aching.  Please, she thought desperately.  rust let me out coming
apart in front of him.

By the time she came out of the bedroom, Chas~ pancakes on the go and coffee
perking.  The wanted was anythin~ to eat, but she would do it or die 1 ing.
This was part of keeping everything normal, pretending it wasn't happening.

They ate in strained silence, and down three pancakes and a cup of coffee,

was such a ball of nerves, she wasn't sure how would keep things down.
Striving for calm, she elbows on the table and watched him his plate, the
churning in her stomach making clammy.  She glanced at the clock, then back
at just seven.  What time de

Chase lifted his mug without meeting her gaze a swallow of coffee.  It wasn't
until he set the he spoke.  "You don't have to go.  I'm ~aking back, and he's
going to drive me in."

The rush of panic made her heart pound,

there, clutching her mug.  She glanced at his door, then at him, feeling as
if every speck of been leached from her body.  Too soon.  It was too wasn't
prepared to say goodbye.  She had two-hour drive to Calgary.  The panic
climbed He took the last bite of pancake, then washed it coffee.

Still without meeting her gaze, he got up from and took his dishes to the

He glanced at the clock, then wiped his hands on the cloth and headed for the
back door.  She couldn't mo~ was as if she were frozen in place, the dread so
inlm~se it paralyzed her.  A thousand images jammed up in her la and she was
once again that little girl in the field of ~ sending the seeds whirling into
the sky.  She re~ne~abere~ joy.  A new, different kind of panic broke over
her, se~ her free, and she lurched to her feet, knocking her chair in her
haste.  Fear and desperation propelled her, and sh the back door at a dead
run, the screen door slam~ loudly behind her.

Mindless of the ruts in the path, mindless of the bra~ snagging at her hair,
she dashed up the path leading t~ weathered garage, afraid.  So afraid.

She rounded the garage just as he was laying the gan bag in the back of the
truck, and he turned, a startled appearing in his eyes.  She choked out his
name, sud~ blinded by tears, and he.  caught her as she stumbled int,

arias.

Gathering her up in a rough embrace, he caught the 1 of her head and held her
tight against him.  "What?  W~ the matter?"

She tried to answer, but she couldn't.  There was jus much emotion breaking
loose--old fear, new fear, de at ion It was as if his walking out the door
had.  stri1 everything away.  And she knew she couldn't let him g~

He folded her in his arms and tucked his head ag hers, one hand tangled in
her hair.  "What, babe?  W the matter?"

Devon hung on to him, her whole body shaking emotion, suddenly experiencing
the same soaring sens-she had experienced so long ago.  This was right.  He
w~ freedom.  But he would also be her anchor.

"Dev?  Please, baby.  Tell me what's wrong."  "Don't go."

He tightemxl his hold, his voice gruff with regret wh~ answered.  "I have to,
babe.  You know that."

Wiping her face, she lifted her head and looked at him, hope driving her, her
tone urgent.  "Just a couple of days, Chase.  Just so I can get things
straightened out around here.  Then I'll come with you."

He went dead still and stared at her, the pulse in his term, pie suddenly
beating double time.  "What?"

It was like letting go of a secure handhold.  And reaching out for something
that might not be there.  "Take me with you, Chase," she whispered, her eyes
filling.  She flattened her hand against his chest, her heart beating in
frantic time just like his.  "You can't come back here.  I know that.  So you
have to take me, Chase."

He watched her with an intensity that made her heart climb up her throat and
nearly stall.  F'many he hauled in a deep, uneven breath and grasped her face
between his hands, the look in his eyes fierce with emotion.  "You would do
that for me?"

He stared at her for an instant longer; then he closed his eyes and hauled
her into his arms, his unchecked strength nearly crushing her.  He didn't say
anything for the longest time; he just held on to her as if he couldn't let
her go, and Devon closed her eyes and clung to him, fear mixing with hope.
She gould do this, She could.  Because anything else was too unbearable,

Finally he let all the air out of his lungs, and with unsteady fingers, he
swept her hair back from her face.  "Listen to me, Der," he said, his voice
rough and

"Listen.  You need to think about this, babe.  Don't do something you're
going to regret later."

"Chase, no"

"Shh."  He hugged her closer, tightening his hold.  "Shh, dartin', Just
lisl~n to me.  I'm not walking out on you--and I'm not putting you off."  He
inhaled roughly and slid his fingers around the back of her head.  "I just
want you to be sure this is what you really want."  He took another deep
breath then continued his voice so so thick with emotion that she could
barely hear him.  "Because if I get you down there, you can be damned sure
I'm never I ing to let you leave."

A thousand feelings washed through her, and she sag~ against him, her face
pressed agaln.  ~t his neck.  Chase stro!  her back, molding her closer, his
touch firm and reas~ ing.  "You gotta know I love you," he whispered uneven
"You gotta know that, babe."

She tightened her arms around his neck and nodded, cusing on the warm scent
of him, the weight of his ar around her.  Those were real and solid.  And
secure.  He h, her for a long time, rubbing her back, talking nonsense her;
then he swept her hair back again and tipped her up.  He gazed at her, his
expression taut and solemn, t~ bent his head and kissed her--one of those
long, openmouthed kisses that made her senses swim and body go weak.  And
Devon sank into it, tears seeping from beneath her lashes, not sure how she
was ever goin~ let him go.

Dragging his mouth away, Chase pressed his face again her neck and hugged
her.  "I gotta go, babe," he whisl~ gruffly.  He kissed her again, then let
her go.  His face car~ with strain, he threw his small duffel in the back
with garment bag, then climbed into the truck, started it rolled down the
window.

Chase had taught her a lot about saying goodbye.  Do linger, don't drag it
out and don't make any promises can't keep.  He put on the sunglasses lying
on the dash, tt looked at her, a strained expression around his mouth.  "
call you from the airport."

Hugging herself, her throat so fight she couldn't ansv Devon nodded,

He stared at her for an instant; then the muscles in his bunched, and he
looked down as he put the truck into verse.  With one final glance, he
wheeled the vehicle inl sweeping turn, and with dust rolling around him~ he
heal toward the lane.

And Devon watched him go, her vision blurring, the pain in her chest nearly
intolerable.  She had left it too late, and it had taken her too long.  And
now he was leaving, and she hadn't even said goodbye.

It was an unpredictable summer.  Cold and rainy, then hot and muggy, with
some of the worst thunderstorms in recorded history.  Devon barely noticed.
They were intoning with a full stable of horses, and with Sam spending less
and less time in the saddle, it meant she was doing most of the training.
She started working a couple of hours at night so they could maintain a
halfway reasonable schedule, and with all the horse shows, there were days
when she was so busy she barely had time to eat.  - .  But the nights were
something else altogether.  Loneliness like she had never' known haunted her,
an unrelenting lone~ line as that was compounded by a thousand regrets, even
more self-castigations and uncertainties, and by 'the resurrection of more
memories.  The memories were devastating, but the loneliness was worse, and
it got so she dreaded going to bed at night.

Chase had called her from the airport like he had promised, and he had called
her again when he got to Colorado.  But he never mentioned what had happened
his last morning at Silver Springs.  It was as if it hadn't happened.  Devon
felt emptier than she had ever had after he left, certain that he had given
up on her and eased himself out of her life.  had no reason to believe her;
he had asked her months ~: fore to marry him, and she had backed away.  And
after alil the times she'd hurt him in the past, he had no reason to believe
her now.

She started going to the arena every night to work with the lit He sorrel
filly, partly because she couldn'[ stand being in the house alone and partly
because there was something about the horse's wariness that drew Devon.  And
partly because of Chase.

He had so totally understood the animal's fear--bl than she had, better.
than Sam.  And it wasn't until la~ night, after she'd sat in the middle of
the arena for an t a bucket of oats at her feet, coaxing the filly to come to
that it hit her why he had understood.  She sat there ging her upraised
knees, experiencing such a rush of av ness that it made her heart pound.  He
knew.  He'd ~ exactly the same thing with the filly that he'd been d with her
all her life.  He had tempted her with all the tt she craved--the speed, the
danger, the excitement--an had coaxed her to him, doing everything he could
to go to trust him.  He knew.  He had always known.  It was that discovery
freed something inside her, and she could a deep, freeing breath.  There was
nothing to hide t him--beeause he knew it all.

She wrgte him a letter that night--twelve pages--an told him things she'd
thought she would never ~11 an~ living soul, She told him about being six
years old an, ing left alone, and she told him about the field of th~ It was
her unburdening, and she was an emotional me the time she was finished, but
she felt lighter inside.  carried that letter around for days before she
scraped u nerve to mail it, and when that letter went through the her heart
went with it.  It was her first step toward abs, honesty.  He would know it
all, every sordid; shamef~ tail, and that terrified her.  She had let him see
it all.

She was an even bigger mess after she mailed that ~ She wanted him to call,
yet every time the phone rang heart dropped to her shoes and she dreaded
answer it She couldn't sleep, she couldn't eat, and there were !  when she
would have been out cleaning stalls at three i morning if she could have
gotlain away with it.  Then s~ three hastily scrawled postcards from him.
One from t homa, one from Texas and one from New Mexico, an realized he was
on the road and probably wouldn't be to his spread for weeks.  She
experienced such a jar ting down that it took her two days to recover from
it.  The waiting was going to kill her.

It was the first of August when she got her second jolt.  It was early Sunday
evening, and she was in the tack room at the arena, putting the next week's
training schedule on the blackboard.  Sam came in, dressed in ironed blue
jeans and a new shirt, his best straw Sloe{son angled on his head.  Every
Sunday night he and Marj went into Bolton for Chinese food, and without fail
he brought her back a bag of fortune cookies.  He set the brown paper bag on
the corner of the batler~ old desk, then leaned against it.

She gave him a wry grin.  "There had better he some good news in that bag,
Sam.  I'm in no mood for " Confucius says?  "

He chuckled and crossed his arms.  "I can see that."  She gave him a wry
look, then she turned away from him and went back to writing out the
schedule.  "I'm two Brecker horses out of the schedule, if that's okay with
you.  They've both gone a little' sour the past two days, so I thought we'd
turn them out in the pasture for a couple of weeks."

"Sounds good."

There was a brief silence, then she heard him shift behind her.  "I just got
an offer on the ranch."

Devon went stock-still.  Her heart made a to her shoes, and for one awful
moment she knees were going to give out.  Tightening her hand the piece of
chalk, she made herself take a deep "Someone from around here?"

"Nope.  S~omebody from the Stalza who wants to get into the horse business."

Numbly, Devon looked at the shattered stick of chalk in her hand.  "Was it a
good offer?"

"Yep, it was.  Wants me to stay on and for a while, and wants to sign you to
a contract.

about you from several of our old customers.  "

Her insides churning, Devon rolled the pieces of chalk around her palm.  "So
what axe you going to do?"

He sighed heavily.  "Well, for starl~s, I thought mebhe we could talk about
it."

She tossed the broken chalk in the garbage can, then wiped her hands on the
rag she used to clean the board, her expression heavy.  Silver Springs was
home.  And the thought of selling it made her stomach harden into a tight
ball.  Wiping the last traces of dust from her fingers, she laid the rag on
the blackboard ledge, then turned.  It took a concerted effort to meet his
gaze.  "It's your operation and your investment, Sam.  This is up to you and
Ma~."

He stared at her, his expression thoughtful.  "Well, now, I don't quite agree
with you, missy.  Marj and I see you as a damned sight more than a hired
hand, and I figure you've got a fair chunk of time invested here."

She held his gaze for a moment, then looked down and rubbed some chalk dust
from the tips of her fingers, her throat suddenly tight.

Sam didn't say anything for a moment, then he spoke, his voice gruff.  "I
figured mebbe we could strike a deal if you wanted to take over here."

Her gaze averted, Devon swallowed hard and shook her head.  "Even if I could
raise the money, I don't think I could make a go of it on my own.  I'd have
to hire another trainer, and there would he a drop in business if you weren't
here on a regular basis.  And with mortgage payments on top of all of that--I
don't know."

His arms still folded across his chest, Sam tipped his head to one side and
studied her.  "What's happening with you and McCall?"

She gave a wan smile.  "I don't know about that, either."  Devon let go a
long sigh and met his gaze.  "Let's face it, Sam.  There isn't a huge market
for spreads like this.  If you've got a solid offer, and you and Marj are
satisfied with it, you'd be a fool not to jump at it."

"Would you sign on for a few months?"

She picked at a loose thread in the stitching on the saddle beside her, then
raised her head and looked at him.  "I guess--if you're going to be staying
on.  But there would have to be some very clear terms set down.  I won't work
for anyone who's abusive to horses, and I won't take orde~ from anyone but
you."

Sam stared at her, a bright twinkle appearing in his eyes.  "That's a good
one.  When in hell did you ever take orders from me?"

She gave him a lopsided smile.  "I wasn't counting."

He chuckled and shook his head.  "I guess you weren't."  He stared at her,
his expression turning solemn.  "I'm sorry about this, Devon," he said
quietly.  "If it wasn't for Marj,

I'd hang on fora few more years.  "

"I know that, Sam."

He sighed, a melancholy look appearing in his eyes.  "It's been a hell of a
ride, hasn't it?"

"Yes, it has."  One hell of a ride.  And it was going to nearly kill her to
see it end.

Devon went on autopilot for the next six weeks.  She worked, she ate, she
slept.  She didn't ask Sam anything about the sale; she didn't want to know,
and she tried not to think about Chase, or what be was going to do when he
read her letter.  She put in at least eight hours a day in the saddle, and
Sam had hired an extra hand to take up the slack.  She got several more
postcards from Chase, from all over the States, and she didn't want to admit
what a sinking sensation she got from each one of them.  And she tried not to
think about why he hadn't phoned.  She was able to disconnect from almost
everything, but she wasn't able to disconnect from the loneliness.  She had
missed him before, but this time it was different.  This time she was aware
of his absence all the time, and there were nights when she wanted him so
badly that she nearly climbed the walls.  And there were other nights when
she would have sold her soul just to have him in bed beside her.

The prospective buyer was due to arrive the second week in September to check
out the place, and Devon worked everyone like dogs, making sure there wasn't
so much as a straw out of place.  She wasn't going to let anything reflect on
Sam's reputation.  The new owner was expected to arrive on Saturday, but she
got a call very late Friday night from Sam, saying he had just arrived and
had given Sam a certified check for the deposit.

She stared across the darkened kitchen, her hand clenched around the
receiver, an awful sinking sensation unfolding in the pit of 'her stomach.
This was it.  It was going to happen.  "Devon?  Are you there?"

She forced herself to relax her grip and moved the phone closer to her mouth.
"Yes, Sam.  I'm here."

"I was wondering if you'd mind slipping down to the arena.  He brought four
of his horses with him, and I thought we could put them in those stalls at
the south end."

Her chin came up.  She had a better idea where he could put his horses.

"Devon?"  She exhaled and rubbed the knot of tension between her eyes.  "I'll
see to it."

"Good.  Good."  The click of the disconnect star fled her, and she pulled the
receiver away from her ear and looked at it.  He had hung up on her, and she
didn't even know who she was dealing with here.  Sometimes Sam could be so
damned dense.  She slammed the receiver in the cradle and turned toward the
door.  The last thing she wanted to do was be civil to whoever was taking
over S'dver Springs.  Letting her irritation energize her, she yanked on her
boots, then snatched a sheepskin jacket off a hook.  She just had to ~
~ca~inding herself that thi.  ~ was what Sam wanted.

A wisp of wood smoke greeted her as soon as she stepped outside, the scent
lingering from a pile of deadwood they had burned that afternoon.  She turned
up the collar of her jacket and stuck her hands in the pockets, the tang of
an- tun an and the chill of frost mixing with the lingering smol~,

and inhaled deeply, savoring the smell.  God, but she loved autumn,
especially like the one they'd had this year.  A true Indian summer with
vibrant colors, clear skies and practically no wind to tear the leaves off
the trees.  It was her favorite time of year, but it was also the time of
year when she missed Chase the most.

She followed the trail through the copse of spruce and aspen to the arena,
the dry grasses beside the trail rustling against her jeans, the glow from
the yard light casting long, eerie shadows through the branches.  A wave of
loneliness hit her, and she huddled into the warmth of her jacket, her vision
suddenly blurring.  He would he back.  She just had to believe that, as soon
as the rodeo season was over, he would he back.

The dogs bounded up to meet her as she came through the trees, and she
snapped her fingers and gave them a soft command to heel, a sick feeling
washing through her when she saw the outline of a big rig parked in the
unlighted area at the south end of the arena.  She wondered if Sam would
leave the dogs.

Shutting off that thought, she pulled open the side door and entered the
long, still structure.  Only one set of lights along the shed row had been
turned on, the scant illumination sucked into the high, wide blackness of the
arena.  A horse nlckered and stuck its head over the half door as she
approached, and she paused and scratched him under the chill.  "Checking
things OUt, Dandy?"  She found a crUnchy in her pocket and let him tako it
from her open palm, then straightened his forelock

Sticking her hands in her pockets, she started toward the open box stall at
the far end of the complex, a nervous flutter unfolding in her throat.  Lord,
she did not want to do this.  The thought of losing all this, especially on a
lonely autunm night like tonight, made her want to bolt.

A form appeared in the doorway of the box stall, and Devon's heart skipped a
beat.  Standing in the shadows the way he was, it was impossible to determine
anything about him except that he was wearing a black low-crowned Stetson and
a shearling coat, his face hidden by the shadows.  He rested one hand on the
open stall door and watched her approach, something in his stance making her
ins idea roll over.  Arrogance.  She could sense it from a hundn~!  feet
away.  She kept walking, bracing herself for the first confrontation.  This
was the man who was going to be taking over her life, her home.  She hated
him on sight.

"You sure as hell took your sweet time getting here."  Devon's heart lurched
to a stop and she closed her eyes, certain that her mind was playing tricks
on her.  It couldn't be.  It couldn't.  Her legs suddenly trembling beneath
her, she swallowed hard and grasped a stall door for support, her heart
hammering so hard that it felt like a stampede in her chest.  Feeling as if
she were suspended in some sort of dream," she watched him come toward her
through the shadows, moving with a cocky swagger.  " What's the matter,
Manyfeathers?  Cat got your tongue?  "

Stunned and speechless, she watched him step out of the shadows, that old
familiar cocky grin on his face, and a wave of stunning reaction slammed
through her.  Covering her face with her hand, she started to sob, the
emotion too intense to hold in, relief and something raw breaking from her.
He closed the distance; his voice going soft and husky.  "I got your letter a
few weeks ago," he continued.  "And I gotta tell you, it shook me up.  Then I
got mad as hell at you for not telling me before."  He walked up to her and
caught her by the back of her neck, pulling her toward him.  "D~mn it, Slash,
don't you know you don't need to hide anything from me?"

Shaking and crying because she was so glad to have him back, she slid her
arms around his neck and hung on to him with every ounce of strength she had.
She couldn't answer him; it was just too overwhelming.

He'slid his fingers into her hair and drew her head against him, then began
stroking her jaw.  "Ah, darling'," he whispered, his voice rough with
emotion.  "You also made me pretty damned happy."  He hugged her hard, and
she felt him grin.  "So I said to hell with it and bought the farm."

She closed her eyes and hugged him back, happiness spiraling through her.
The imposs~le had happened.  Chase McCall had finally come home.

The autumn night breeze wafted in through the window, and Chase tightened his
hold on her face, then kissed her with infinite care, moving slowly inside
her.  The loving had been urgent and out of control and completely
unprotected, and Devon's breath caught when he moved against her, her body
still su~tized.  Releasing a satisfied sigh, he broke off the kiss and looked
at her, the light from the hallway highlighting the angles of his face.  He
gazed down at her, his eyes warm and intimate, softened by a glimmer of
amusement.  He smoothed his thumbs across her cheekbones, a'smile tugging at
his mouth.  "So how does it feel to be in bed with the boss?"

She turned her head and kissed the palm of his hand, then gave him a wry grin
and slid her hands up his naked back.  "Don't get a big head about it,
McCall.  We haven't negotiated the terms of my employment yet."

He grinned at her, then leaned down and gave her another kiss.  "God, but
you're a snot.  That's not going to get you many Brownie points, Slash."

She savored the moistness of his kiss, loving the feel of him still inside
her.  God, but it felt so good to have him back.

He heaved another contented s'~h, then braced his weight on his arms and
looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair off her face.  He gave her that
slow, lazy grin of his.  "Maybe I'll keep you.  You're not a half-bad kisser."

Ga~ing at him, she rubbed her hands across his taut shoulders.  "You're not
half-bad yourself."

His expression sobered, and he smoothed his knuckles along her temple.
"Happy?"  he asked, his voice low and husky.

Blinking against the sudden well of tears, she nodded.  "Very."

His face grave with emotion, he cupped her head and drew his thumbs along her
damp lashes.  "Marry me, Slash."

The tears spilled over, and she swallowed hard.  "Yes."

He stared at her, his gaze dark and intent, then a trace of amusement tugged
at his mouth.  "Scout's honor?"

She laughed through her tears, loving him so much she couldn't hold it in.
"Is that another bad Indian joke, McCall?."

The amusement spread to his eyes, making his laugh lines crinkle.  "Damned if
I know."

She stroked his buttocks, absorbing the fact that he was really there.  She
had to wait a moment for the contraction in her throat to ease; then she
spoke, her voice a husky whisper.  "Why, Chase?"

He g ~a~ed at her, his expression turning solemn.  He ca-teased her temple
with his thumb, the warmth in his eyes as sensual as his touch.  "You mean
about buying this place?"  She nodded.

He held her gaze for a space, then started straightening some loose wisps of
hair.  Finally he spoke.  "Your letter changed things for me, Dev," he said,
his voice gruff with emotion.  "And I started looking at things a little
differ-enfiy.  I thought about how I would feel giving up my place--the life
and business I'd built up down there, and I ~alized I didn't like the idea a
whole lot.  It was the first time I really realized what I was asking you to
do."  He frowned a little, his expression somber.  "And I started asking
myself a few questions.  I knew all the reasons I didn't want to come back
here, but I never stopped to think about all the reasons I did."  He stopped
fussing with her hair and met her gaze, his expression still solemn.  "There
was you, da ding always you.  But there were Tanner and Kate and the kids,
too--they're my family.  And there's Cyrus and Burt.  And in spite of our
differences, there's Milt."

"But why this?"

He stroked.  her cheek, his expression serious.  "I guess because we can
build a good life here.  And because of you.  Because I know this is the only
home you've ever had.  I didn't want to take it away from you."

"But you didn't have to buy it, Chase."

His gaze softened, and he smiled at her.  "Yeah, I did, Slash.  I wanted it,
too.  So I talked to Ernie and Sam, and we worked out a deal.  Ernie and I
were able to swing the down payment, especially when Sam decided he'd like to
maintain an interest.  Tanner put up some collateral for me, so it's a
fifty-fifty deal with Sam, but we have the option to buy out his half in five
years.  Sam and Marj are going to stay in the house as long as they want, and
we can live here until we outgrow it.  It means I'm going to have to spend
some time in Colorado, but I figured that was something we could both live
with."  He grinned at her, mischief twinkling in his eyes.  "It's a hell of a
mess, but Tanner's got it all figured out, so I just signed the damn papers."

Devon tried to smile, but emotion lodged in her throat, and she looked away
as she tried to bring it under control.  Finally she spoke, her voice still a
little unsteady.  "Why didn't you say something when I told you I would go
to.  Colorado?"

Chase caught her under the chin and lifted her head, forcing her to meet his
gaze, his expression unsmiling and solemn.  "I didn't have it put together
then, Dev," he answered, his voice gruff with recollection.  "You blew me so
far out of the water when you told me you'd come with me, it took me a while
to get it back together.  Then I got your letter, and that shook the hell out
of me.  I didn't know what in hell to do.  And I have to tell you, I was
damned ticked off at you for a few days for never telling me all that.  Then
bit by bit, this started making more and more sense, so I called Sam."  His
eyes dark and somber, he drew his thumb across her cheek, then eased in a
deep, uneven breath.  "And it was something I just couldn't tell you over the
phone, babe.  I

needed io be here when I told you.  I was afraid you'd think I did it for all
the wrong reasons if I wasn't.  "

Touched by ~ confession, even more deeply touched by the solemn look {~ his
eyes, Devon touched his mouth, her fingers not quite steady.  "But you didn't
have to do this, Chase," she whispered unevenly.  "Not for me."

He looked at her, his gaze unwavering.  "Yes, I did, Dev," he said quiefi)~.
"I did it for us.  I didn't realize how damned much I missed being up here
until I stopped and thought about it.  And besides, I like this business.
It's a good phce to be.  And I want to see our idds out there hanging on the
corral, watching their mama dde."

Devon pulled her arms from around him and took his face in her hands, feeling
such a rush of love for him that it made it hard to breathe.  "I love you,
Chase," she whispered brokenly.  '"God, how I love you."

Stroking the hair from her forehead with his thumb, he gazed at her, a
heart-stopping smile in his eyes; then he lowered his head and ldssed her,
tightening his hold on her face.  "That's what it's all about, babe," he
whispered, his mouth moist and warm against hers.  "That's what it's all
about."