“That’s true,” she admitted. “And my work there was appreciated. But it’s not the same as punching a time clock.”

  Chandler laughed. “Thankfully my staff doesn’t punch a time clock. Otherwise, I’d have to pay them for so much overtime, I’d go broke.”

  Roslyn chuckled along with him. “Well, Doc, you wouldn’t have to worry about paying me anything. I’d be an intern.”

  His expression sobered and Roslyn’s breath caught in her throat as his thumb gently stroked the back of her hand.

  “No pay. No job.”

  “Oh, but—” She started to argue and then her eyes widened with sudden dawning. “Are you saying that you’re going to give me a try at the clinic?”

  He shrugged as a wry smile tilted one corner of his lips. “Against my better judgment. But the minute it becomes too much for you to handle, that’s it.”

  With a little cry of delight, she flung her arms around his neck and smacked a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Chandler. Thank you!”

  “You’re very welcome,” he murmured.

  For a moment, his hand came up to mesh in her hair and while she savored the feel of his fingers against her scalp, she allowed her cheek to rest against his and her nostrils to breathe in the masculine scent of his hair and skin.

  He was rough and rugged and all hard muscle. And she could have stayed like that forever, close to him, touching him. But the door to the house opened and she pulled back before anyone could spot the embrace.

  “Well, I wondered where you two had gone.”

  Holt walked over and sank into a chair sitting at an angle to Chandler’s side of the love seat. He was carrying a squatty glass partially filled with ice and a dark liquid that Roslyn assumed was whiskey and cola.

  “I figured you were in the den with your feet up. Enjoying coffee and pie,” Chandler said to him.

  “It’s too damn quiet in the den,” he remarked. “It’s like a tomb in there. And tonight I need something a heck of a lot stronger than coffee.”

  “Katherine never showed up with Andy and Abby, or Nick?” Chandler asked. “The twins would supply plenty of noise.”

  Holt shook his head. “According to Blake, Nick has gone over to the reservation to stay the night with Hannah. And the twins are fussy from teething and Katherine is keeping them upstairs this evening so their crying won’t get on everyone’s nerves.”

  “Aww, I should go help her,” Roslyn said. “She probably hasn’t had a chance to eat dinner.”

  “Blake is helping her,” Holt informed her. “Please don’t leave me out here alone with only my hairy-legged brother for company. I’ve had a hell of a day. And you’re a much prettier diversion than he is.”

  Chandler cocked an eyebrow at him. “What’s been happening today? Been breaking colts?”

  “Only this morning. The afternoon I spent with Joe. You know how he and Blake go out every week searching for clues. Well, Blake had a bunch of banking business to deal with today and couldn’t go. So that left me to go with Joe—this time on horseback. I was beginning to think it was going to take an earthquake to get Joe headed back to the ranch. We were out there for hours.”

  Roslyn could see Chandler’s interest was suddenly piqued. He leaned slightly toward his brother. “Find anything more than rock and sagebrush?”

  Snorting, he answered, “Two sidewinders and a Gila monster. One of the sidewinders nearly got my hand. I was moving a rock and didn’t see it.”

  “Nothing pertaining to Dad?” Chandler persisted.

  Holt nodded. “That’s why I came out here to talk to you. I didn’t want to mention any of this in front of Mom. God knows she’s not been herself here lately. And you know how she’s gotten about Dad’s death. She doesn’t want us digging, or looking, or even talking about any of it.”

  Chandler’s sigh was burdened with worry. “Yeah. I know. But that doesn’t mean we have to stop searching for answers. That’s our right. He was our father. If we ever do get enough to put a theory together, then we can tell her.”

  “That’s the way Joe and Blake feel about it, too.” He wiped a hand over his face, then dug into the front pocket of his jeans. “We found two things today. That’s why Joe didn’t want to quit. He was like a bloodhound that had picked up the scent of the trail.”

  He handed Chandler the two items. “Do those look familiar?”

  Chandler leaned back in the love seat and closely examined the small objects in the palm of his hand. One was a triangle of tattered fabric, the other an intricately carved piece of silver shaped like the end of a leather belt.

  Chandler’s eyes widened perceptively. “Why, this is a piece of Dad’s shirt! The blue-and-gray plaid he had on the day he died. And this belt tip—there’s no doubt it was his! That’s his initials on the back. Didn’t Blake give that to him for a birthday gift?”

  Holt nodded soberly. “We found them not far from water well number nine.”

  Shaking his head with disbelief, Chandler said, “But we’ve gone over and over that area. How did you happen to stumble across these?”

  Holt took a long swig of his drink and as Roslyn’s gaze bounced between the two men, it was very clear that this was a significant finding. Not that she knew any particulars about their father’s death. Except that they’d found Joel dangling from beneath his horse. His boot had hung in the stirrup and he’d been lugged over the ground for a long distance.

  “You remember the arroyo where we found Dad’s spur rowel?” Holt asked.

  Chandler nodded as he tested the weave of the fabric between his thumb and forefinger. The colors were very faded and the edges jagged and frayed. Roslyn could only wonder what he was thinking and feeling. Even to this day, it hurt her deeply to look at her mother’s clothing and personal items, which were still stored away in her bedroom. A room that, to Roslyn, seemed like a prison cell. For so many reasons.

  “That was about two years ago.” Chandler leveled a skeptical look at Holt. “Don’t tell me these things were near it!”

  “Not there. About a quarter mile north is a narrow gulch that runs for about two hundred yards. For some reason Joe got the hunch that we ought to look in it. He found the belt tip at the bottom of the wash. I found the piece of fabric hung on a juniper root about midway up the bank.”

  Chandler’s head swung back and forth as though he was having trouble digesting Holt’s news. “What does Joe think now?”

  “We all thought that whatever happened with Dad initially took place in the first gulch by the water well, right?”

  Chandler said, “It’s a logical assumption since that’s where his spur rowel was found. But these things you’ve found today puts a hole in that theory.”

  “After today, Joe seems to believe the fight, or ambush, or whatever the hell occurred, started in the gulch north of there. Afterward, Major Bob took off running in the direction of home. That would have most likely carried the horse, with Dad dragging from the stirrup, into the gulch where the spur rowel was dislodged.”

  The horrible image caused Roslyn to outwardly shiver and Chandler immediately wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders. “You’re getting cold, Roslyn. We should go in.”

  “No. I’m not cold. I’m just thinking—” She hesitated, unsure of how to convey her thoughts on the matter. “Well, it’s none of my business, but from a woman’s viewpoint, I can understand why Maureen wants to put Joel’s death behind her. I’m sure each time the subject is brought up, a piece of her heart is torn out.”

  Holt said, “That’s why she’s not going to see these things. I’m going to let Joe keep them over at the Bar X. That way there won’t be any chance of her stumbling across them.”

  Chandler nodded, then asked his brother, “Did you know Mom had gone to Phoenix today?”

  “Not until Reeva told me and Joe before we left the ranch right after lunch. Why?”

  “Because I think she’s doing more than going to a cattleman’s meeting.”

  Holt made a cynical grunt. “Hell, Chandler, of course she’s doing more than that. You think she’d go to Phoenix without doing some shopping for her grandkids?”

  Chandler cast a wry glance at Roslyn, then turned his attention back to Holt. “She probably is doing a bit of shopping. But I also think she might be seeing Uncle Gil.”

  “Who’s Uncle Gil?” Roslyn asked, then, realizing how she sounded, quickly apologized. “Forgive me, you two. This is none of my business. In fact, I really should go inside and let you two discuss your family in private.”

  Chandler kept his arm firmly around her shoulders. “Sit still.”

  “Yeah, sit still, Roslyn,” Holt added. “You’re living here with us and that makes you close to being family.”

  “And we know you’re not going to repeat any of this,” Chandler added.

  “Of course not. To tell you the truth, I’ve been all ears because I—I’m so fond of Maureen. She’s been so good to me and she deserves to be happy. But tonight at dinner she seemed far from it.”

  Chandler’s expression softened as he looked at Roslyn. “That’s why I was harping on the trip to Phoenix. There’s some connection there.”

  “You mentioned Uncle Gil,” Holt prodded. “Why? Mom visits him from time to time when she goes to Phoenix. That’s no secret.”

  Chandler explained to Roslyn. “Uncle Gil is our father’s brother. He’s worked for the city police department for many years. He’s an investigator now.”

  “Oh.” She thought about this for a moment. “Then you’re thinking she’s asked him to do some sort of investigating? About your father?”

  “That’s possible,” Holt said.

  Chandler shook his head. “No. I’m thinking she’s seeing him—like in an emotionally dependent way.”

  Holt swore beneath his breath. Not at Chandler, but at the whole idea about their mother. “Have you gone daffy, brother? Mom was crazy about Dad. She worshipped the ground he walked on.”

  “That’s exactly why I’m thinking this,” Chandler told him. “She needs someone outside of us kids to lean on—to share her feelings with. Gil knows Mom well and he’s like Dad in so many ways. Would it be that crazy for her to feel drawn to the man?”

  Holt belted back the last of his drink. “Hell, Chandler, nothing surprises me anymore. I just wish Viv hadn’t moved so far away. I miss her so much.”

  Chandler was about to make some sort of reply when the buzzing of a phone sounded.

  Holt looked around. “Is that someone’s phone going off?”

  “It’s yours,” Chandler told him. “Mine is in the house on the charger.”

  Heaving out a weary breath, Holt pulled the phone from his jeans pocket. As soon as he glanced at the face, he rose to his feet. “You two enjoy the rest of your evening. I have to go to the horse barn.”

  “Need help?” Chandler asked.

  “Thanks, brother. Not this time.”

  Holt didn’t bother going back into the house to change clothes or return his whiskey glass. Instead he leaped off the end of the porch and took off in a long stride toward the horse barn.

  Chandler watched his brother move off into the rapidly falling darkness. “Holt is overworked,” he said. “But he’s too stubborn to hire another horse trainer to help him with the load. He doesn’t think anyone can handle the horses as well as he does.”

  “Seems like I’ve heard that his older brother suffers from the same sort of mind-set,” Roslyn said shrewdly.

  He cast her a sheepish look, then chuckled. “It’s something that runs in our DNA, I guess. Blake had it, too. Until marrying Katherine finally convinced him to hire a secretary.”

  “I’ve not met Florence, but I’ve heard your mother speak highly of her,” Roslyn told him. “How does Blake feel about having a secretary?”

  “It took him a while to trust Florence with important matters. But he soon learned she’s like a drill sergeant—no-nonsense. Now if he needs to be out of the office, he doesn’t think twice about leaving her in charge. And he doesn’t have to work after dinner to catch up on paperwork.”

  Roslyn gave him a coy smile. “Instead, he can spend time with his wife and children.”

  “Point well taken,” he said. “But I already have six employees to help me run the clinic. Two work up front to deal with appointments and paperwork. Two more assist me in the treatment rooms and two more help me take care of the large animals outside the clinic.”

  The night Roslyn had fainted, she recalled meeting Trey, but other than him, she’d not seen any other staff members around the place. She’d guessed he might have two or three employees all together. “Wow! I had no idea. You must be an extremely good veterinarian.”

  He let out a short laugh. “I don’t know about good. But I’m the only vet in the area. Otherwise, a person has to drive down toward Phoenix or as far north as Prescott to get an animal treated.”

  “Now I understand why you have such a heavy workload. And why your family thinks you should hire an associate.”

  The hand resting against her upper arm moved up and down ever so slightly against her bare skin. Roslyn instinctively wanted to scoot closer to his side and rest her head upon his strong shoulder. She wanted to tell him how much she adored every moment of his company. But would he even care to know her intimate thoughts?

  His short laugh had nothing to do with being amused. “My family wants me to work less at the clinic and more here on the ranch. Which I understand. I’m a Hollister. I should be doing my fair share. But I don’t want to be restricted to just working here on Three Rivers. Do you know how many suffering animals would go without medical care if I had never opened the clinic?”

  “Many, I’m sure,” she answered.

  “Over the years, the count would be in the hundreds and hundreds. I wouldn’t be happy about that.”

  “No. You wouldn’t be happy,” she agreed.

  A stretch of silence passed and as the baby’s movements pushed against her abdomen, she wondered what she was really doing here, living with a family she’d met only two weeks ago. Deluding herself? Dreaming that Chandler might grow some serious feelings toward her and the baby? She was being a fool.

  He said, “Now you’re sitting there wondering why I don’t hire an associate.”

  “I don’t have to wonder. I can see that you’re like Holt in that manner. You want things done as you would do them. And I imagine that finding another veterinarian with your dedication would be hard to do.”

  Appreciation softened his features. “I think you do understand.”

  More than he’d ever guess, Roslyn thought, glumly. Yes, he was as particular about his animal clinic as Holt was about Three Rivers horseflesh. The two men were proud of their abilities and their reputations. And rightly so. But with Chandler, she got the impression there was another reason altogether why he liked going solo. Working fourteen hours a day gave him a good excuse not to get seriously involved with a woman. Not to tie himself to a marriage and children. Why he wanted to avoid that kind of commitment, she didn’t know. Nor should she want to know. But God help her, she did.

  “I try,” she said wanly, then scooted to the edge of the seat with the intention of rising to her feet. “I think it’s time I get back inside. Jazelle went home early, so Reeva might need some help in the kitchen.”

  Chandler’s hand wrapped over her forearm. “Not yet. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  Her heart began to tap out an anxious rhythm as she turned her head to look at him. Had he already decided he didn’t want her at the clinic? Or did he want to talk about that torrid kiss they’d shared out on the range?

  “Okay. About what?”

  “Your father.”

  His blunt answer jolted her and sent her mind spinning with questions. Why should Martin DuBose concern him? Unless...oh, no! Surely he or someone else in the family hadn’t gone back on their word and contacted him. If so, she’d have to run again. She’d have to leave Three Rivers Ranch and Chandler behind.

  She wasn’t ready for that. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready to tell this man goodbye.

  Chapter Eight

  A cool chill ran through Roslyn and she wrapped her arms around herself in an attempt to ward off a shiver. “My father? What about him?”

  His gaze scanned her face and Roslyn noticed how even in the waning twilight, his blue eyes were vivid and oh, so striking.

  “About contacting him and letting him know where you are,” he answered.

  She tried not to gasp. Did Chandler honestly believe she ought to contact her father? If he did, it was because he didn’t understand.

  “No. I haven’t gotten in touch with him by phone or mail or any other way,” she stiffly. “And it will be a long time before I do.”

  Silence followed her sharp reply and then he finally said, “I was just thinking that, well, now that you’ve been here a while and had time to ponder about everything, that you might’ve had a change of heart.”

  She was so surprised by his comment that she twisted around on the seat in order to face him head-on. “Are you joking, Chandler? A change of heart? I’m sorry. I know he’s my father and I shouldn’t have ill feelings toward him, but I—” She shook her head. “I can’t deal with him now. He’d be threatening to take my baby, my money, everything I have just to pressure me back under his wing.”

  “That’s hard to believe. Why would he be that callous to his own daughter?”

  She let out an unladylike snort. “Because he’s a controlling man. Because my being pregnant and single, and now a runaway, has put a blight on his good name. He wants to try to smooth it all over. And having me home would make it appear that all was well within our family. What little is left of it,” she added bitterly.

 

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