In her desperation to get away from her mother several days ago, after the shock of learning about the will, she’d neglected to heed what had been drilled into her head over the course of the last ten years - that outside of the familiar, she was vulnerable and, as a blind person, couldn’t possibly manage on her own. She’d nearly been trampled by a horse that day.

  Before reaching the porch steps, Katherine stopped, and turned. She swallowed past the lump in her throat. Trace behaved as if he didn’t know about her lack of sight. He needed to be told, needed to know that she was a liability.

  “Before we go, there’s something you have to know about me, Trace.”

  His palm left the small of her back, and his hand guided her arm through his, as if he were her beau and taking her for a Sunday stroll.

  “I already know you, Katie,” he said in a hushed tone, and led her down the steps.

  When she reached the gravel ground, her head shot up in the direction of his. She laughed scornfully. “You don’t know anything about me.”

  Trace stopped. His body shifted slightly toward her.

  “I know that your mother tried to mold you into someone you’re not all those years ago, and failed. I suspect that the folks at that school in New York tried to do the same thing. I’ll bet they failed, too, even though you’re pretending that you’ve conformed because you had no other choice.” He paused and stepped closer, the heat of him seeping straight through her. Katherine held her breath.

  “I know that you missed this ranch and the horses. And, I know without a doubt that you want to run through the fields and get into trouble like you used to.”

  Trace’s deep voice, soft and caressing against her cheek, left her speechless. Katherine continued to look up in the direction of Trace’s voice, her mouth open. He’d never paid her any attention when they were kids. How could he guess all these things about her so accurately?

  “As much as I want to, I can’t do any of those things anymore,” she stammered. “I can’t be the person I was back then.”

  Trace laughed. He took a step back. “Why not? Because you’re all grown up and proper now? You might act all stiff and formal around Wilma Rodgers, because it’s what you were taught, but even the best trained horse will kick up its heels when given a chance at freedom.”

  Katherine shook her head. “You don’t understand. I can’t see to do the things I used to.”

  She pulled her arm out from Trace’s. This was a mistake. As much as she wanted to go visit Goldfinder, she couldn’t go with Trace. He wouldn’t want to be burdened with a blind person.

  Before she had a chance to turn back toward the house, a warm hand clamped around her upper arm and stopped her.

  “I know that you can’t see, Katie. I don’t understand why that would keep you from doing the things you used to enjoy.”

  Katherine stood, speechless. She shook her head. Had he even understood what she’d said?

  “I’m blind, Trace.”

  “So, you’ve stopped living because you’ve lost your vision?” he challenged, his voice adamant.

  “I haven’t stopped living,” Katherine argued heatedly. Her voice rose in anger. “I’ve simply made a new life for myself. I’ve accepted my blindness, and I make do.”

  “Make do?” Trace laughed. “I’ve seen the way that handler of yours leads you around like some dog on a leash. Is that what you call living?”

  Katherine wheeled to face him. Her hand shot to her hip, and she leaned forward. She narrowed her eyes like a sighted person would do when riled, what she used to do as a child, and focused them on the shadow in front of her.

  “Wilma has been my guardian and teacher since the day I arrived in New York. She taught me how to manage without my eyes, and she’s always had my best interest in mind.”

  “That may very well be, Katie,” Trace replied calmly. “But I also think she’s holding you back. Maybe not intentionally, but holding you back, nevertheless.”

  “How can you make such assumptions? You don’t even know her. And you certainly don’t know me.”

  Trace drew in an audible breath. “Three days ago, you came to the stables on your own. You’ve fooled me about your lack of sight since the day you arrived. The moment your guardian showed up after your run-in with that colt, you acted helpless. Maybe you need a little assistance getting around from time to time, but why should that stop you from doing the things you want, just like anyone else?”

  He released her arm, and wrapped his fingers around her hand. Tugging gently, he led the way down the gravel road. “Right now, let me be your eyes. Let’s go visit the old stud horse. Maybe he can help you remember who you used to be.”

  “That person doesn’t exist anymore,” Katherine argued, lengthening her strides to keep up with him. “Besides, you didn’t like me back then, as I recall.”

  Trace laughed. “You’re right about one thing. I didn’t like you, but it’s not for the reasons you might think. And if I were a betting man, I’d wager that you’re still exactly the same person you were a decade ago.”

  His hold on her hand tightened, and an inexplicable shudder passed through her. Her hand nestled in his firm, yet gentle, grip, and for a brief moment, exhilaration swept through her, as if she could do anything; as if her lack of sight didn’t matter.

  Trace led her along the path, past the first barn and, if her sense of direction was accurate, toward a section of smaller paddocks where horses were kept individually. He lifted her hand until her fingers made contact with a plank of wood.

  “We’re here,” he said against her cheek.

  Stepping back, he whistled loudly. A horse snorted a short distance away. The sound of hoof beats falling in a slow, four-beat cadence lifted Katherine’s anger and she tilted her head to listen. The wooden fence in front of her moved forward and a hinge squeaked. Trace’s palm rested once again at the small of her back, giving her a nudge forward.

  “I used to scold you for going into the stallion’s pen. I won’t get mad this time.”

  His quiet words tickled the back of her head. Ignoring the flutter in her chest, Katherine stepped into the pen. Trace’s palm remained at her waist, guiding her with gentle pressure. He reached for her hand from behind and lifted it out in front of her. Katherine held her breath and a shiver raced down her spine, her entire body in tune to how close he stood behind her.

  Her fingers made contact with a horse’s soft nose and hot air blew at her face. Katherine let out a soft laugh. She needed no further encouragement from Trace. She stepped forward, running her hand up the stallion’s head, feeling along his forehead to his flat cheek, and along the top of his neck.

  Goldfinder snorted softly and reached his head forward. Katherine stepped closer, letting her fingers be her eyes. The old stallion’s withers were more prominent than what she remembered, and the bones along his spine more pronounced. His back dipped slightly, then rose back up into a pointy croup. The well-developed muscles along his hindquarters that she remembered were gone.

  “He ain’t the prettiest thing anymore,” Trace said close behind her. “I hate to say it, but this will probably be his last summer. I think he held on long enough for you to come home.”

  Katherine turned her head in the direction of Trace’s voice.

  “I’m not sure where home is anymore,” she whispered.

  She ran her hand along the stallion’s neck. Goldfinder stood quietly and seemed to enjoy the attention. With each stroke of her palm, old memories came rushing back, of a happier, carefree time. The warm sun against her face, the snorts of horses in nearby pens, and the buzzing of bugs in the air pushed aside her more current memories.

  Recollections of dark corridors and cold rooms, of rigid routines and dull days slowly vanished as she continued to feel the stallion’s soft fur beneath her fingers. The closest she’d been to horses had been the coach horses that pulled the buggies over the cobblestone streets of New York, their shod hooves clacking unnaturally over the hard surface. She’d never had the chance to get close enough to touch them.

  Sure, there’d been happy times as well. Wilma had been a good friend and guide to her, but none of those memories could compare to the Red Cliff Ranch; the smell of fresh earth, or the sound of horses’ hooves as they galloped through a field of spring grass.

  Katherine inhaled deeply. The sweet scent of grass, pine, horses, and . . . Trace, overtook her senses.

  “Let me give you something else to refresh your memory of where you belong,” Trace said.

  Before she knew it, he lifted her onto the swayed back of the old stallion.

  “What are you doing?” she gasped in disbelief. Her right leg swung over the horse’s back, as if she’d done it a million times. Groping with her hands, Katherine wound her fingers through the stallion’s mane. Her dress bunched around her legs as she tried to find her balance. Goldfinder shifted beneath her, but otherwise stood still.

  “Something else you’ve always wanted to do, as I recall.” Trace’s voice was filled with amusement.

  Katherine leaned forward, hugging the horse’s neck. He may not be as strong and powerful as he’d been all those years ago, but in her mind, he hadn’t changed. Her lips curved in a smile and a wave of exhilaration rushed through her. She didn’t need her eyes to feel the animal beneath her, or to imagine racing through the nearby meadows.

  “How’s that feel, Katie?”

  Trace’s low voice, and his hand curled around her arm, brought her back to reality. She turned her head in his direction. Was this really the same Trace Hawley from her childhood? A warm sensation doused her from head to foot, and butterflies flittered in her belly. Her girlish infatuation with the trouble-making boy from her past resurfaced, then erupted into something more. Something far stronger.

  How had he managed to steal her heart is such a short amount of time? Since she’d lost her sight, no one had treated her like a normal person. Katherine’s mouth went dry. He was merely being polite. She had no business reading anything into his actions.

  “Thank you, Trace,” she said, smiling down at him to conceal the jumbled emotions churning through her, “but I’d better get off. Goldfinder shouldn’t be carrying anyone anymore.”

  She leaned forward and slipped her right leg over the horse’s back. Strong hands clasped either side of her waist and helped her to the ground.

  “Next time I bring you to the barn, we’ll go for a real ride,” Trace whispered against her cheek. His hands remained at her waist and Katherine held her breath. “I’m gonna have to ask Sally to find you a pair of britches.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I—”

  “Lordy, me,” a man called. Katherine groped her mind for where she’d heard his voice before. “Miss Katherine, is that you?”

  Trace released her and stepped away. Katherine raised her head toward the source of the voice.

  “Girl, it’s so good to see you back home. This place ain’t been the same in years.”

  Recognition finally dawned on her. She smiled brightly. “Luke?”

  Katherine stepped forward, and was immediately swept into a fierce embrace by the burly blacksmith. She threw her arms around the man’s wide, muscular neck and was lifted off the ground. The air left her lungs when he hugged her firmly to him.

  “Look at you, all grown up.” Luke laughed heartily when he finally set her back on her feet. “I knew you’d come home someday. You sure stayed away long enough.”

  Katherine joined him in laughter, truly happy for the first time in years. She really had come home.

  “Yes, Luke, I’ve been gone too long,” she said, and hugged the large man again. “How have you been?”

  “Can’t complain,” Luke answered. “Movin’ a bit slower than I used ta, but still get ‘round. Trace here, he’s growed up into a fine young man, don’t ya think?” Luke chuckled loudly. “We was all worried about him for a while there. I remember how mad you used to make him, and the trouble you caused around here. That boy couldn’t get nothin’ done for havin’ to keep you in line.”

  “Well, according to her, she’s outgrown her trouble-causing ways,” Trace chimed in, the humor unmistakable in his voice.

  “Well now,” Luke said. “Seems you oughta be man enough to handle her now if she steps outta line. Her daddy always said –”

  “I think I know how to handle her better now,” Trace answered quickly. Too quickly, as if he were cutting off Luke’s words deliberately. Katherine waited. If there was a non-verbal exchange between the two men, she couldn’t tell.

  “How about we leave the old horse to his grazing and head back to the house?” Trace reached for her elbow.

  Katherine moved to step away from him. She wasn’t ready to go back to the house so soon.

  “Sam asked me to fetch you, Trace,” Luke said, the laughter gone from his voice. “He says for you to come to the broodmare barn. That mare, Katie’s Gold, is gettin’ ready to drop her foal.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Trace swore under his breath, but it was loud enough for Katherine to hear.

  “That mare’s not due for another week at least,” he said. His hand touched her arm.

  “Well, no one tells a mare when she’s ready to drop her foal,” Luke chuckled. “Mebbe she knew Miss Katherine was back, and thought now’d be about as good a time as any. After all, you did name that mare after her, Trace.”

  Katherine’s head shot in the direction of where Trace stood beside her. Katie’s Gold. Trace had given the mare that name? Was she the same horse Trace had mentioned was Goldfinder’s final offspring, the one who had comforted her the other day?

  “We’ve all been eager to see this one come into the world, Miss Katherine,” Luke said. “Most of all Trace, I suspect. He’s got a lot riding on this foal.”

  “Guess you’re gonna go with me to see a foal born, Katie,” Trace said quickly, taking hold of her hand.

  Why did it seem as if he was trying to cut Luke off again, like he’d done earlier? He tugged on her hand and led her down the path before she had a chance to even respond. Exhilaration pulsed through her. Although she couldn’t really see the birth, the thought to be present was enough to get her heart racing. She’d seen countless foals born in her youth, and wouldn’t have any trouble visualizing the process.

  Trace’s strides lengthened as he led her down the path toward the broodmare barn and his grip on her hand tightened, communicating something close to apprehension. Katherine nearly broke into a run to keep up with his pace. Why would he be nervous? He must have seen hundreds of foals born. It obviously had something to do with Luke telling her that Trace had a lot riding on this foal.

  Trace slowed when they entered the barn. He came to a stop at, what she assumed, had to be the mare’s stall. A door creaked on its hinges.

  “When did she start her labor?” Trace asked. He let go of Katherine’s hand.

  “I was making the rounds to check on the mares, and found her lying down. I sent Luke to find you right away,” another man said from within the stall.

  Trace’s hand touched her shoulder. “Stand right here, outside the stall, Katie.” He nudged her slightly to the side. “I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  His breath against her cheeks sent a chill down her spine. Her awareness of Trace had only grown stronger the more time she’d spent in his company this past hour or so. The way he spoke to her and treated her as if she was no different than a sighted person, was so unlike most people she’d encountered. Wilma treated her like a normal person for the most part, but even she commented that her blindness limited her abilities.

  Trace’s behavior contrasted sharply with her memories of him as a youth. He’d hated her back then. Now, he treated her almost as if . . .

  As if . . . what? As a beau? As if he’s looking to court you, Katherine?

  She scoffed quietly. She was reading way too much into Trace’s actions. Bringing her to see Goldfinder, and now to be present at the birth of a foal, could hardly be considered courting.

  Images of him kissing Mathilda surfaced and Katherine cast the unpleasant recollection aside. Trace had been handsome as a youth, and girls in town had often whispered and talked about him. Surely he would be even better-looking now, as a grown man, and from everything Sally had told her, he was hard-working and well-respected. No doubt he’d have an easy time finding a wife.

  Katherine mentally shook her head. It was none of her business. Her girlish infatuation with Trace Hawley could never be more than that, even if her insides had turned into a jumbled mix of emotions in the short span of time she’d been back at the Red Cliff.

  Besides, her mother already had plans for her, and as much as she wanted to tell Chantal she’d never go through with an arranged marriage, she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t jeopardize her father’s dreams. She refused to believe that, had he been alive, he would have forced her to marry someone she didn’t choose herself.

  Katherine inhaled a deep breath. If her father were still alive, she wouldn’t be blind today. Everything would have turned out differently.

  Inside the stall, Trace spoke in a hushed tone to the mare and to the other man. The horse groaned loudly, and straw rustled.

  “Let her up, Sam,” Trace said. “Easy, girl. You’re doing just fine. It’ll soon be over.”

  His deep, soothing words washed like warm water over Katherine, as if he were speaking to her. Trace had matured from a strapping youth into a large, imposing man. Listening to him talk to the mare and calm her with his deep voice and quiet actions, had her trusting him as much as this horse undoubtedly did.

  “She’s almost ready,” he said, close to her ear, and Katherine sucked in a surprised hiss. When had he moved close enough to whisper in her ear? He’d barely said the words, when the mare groaned again and shuffled noisily through the stall.

  Minutes stretched into more than an hour. Katherine didn’t move from where she stood. The mare got to her feet and laid down several more times, and Trace calmed her with his soothing words and tone.

 

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