Win didn’t dare spare her a glance as Deil came down onto all fours, and instead of distancing himself from the man as most wild animals would do, the stallion charged. Instinctively, Win hit the ground and rolled toward the rail fence. Deil’s left hoof grazed Win’s forearm a moment before he cleared the pen and he gasped at the unexpected pain, sucking in a lungful of dirt and dust. Wracked by a coughing fit, Win curled up on the ground, cradling his injured arm against his belly.
Cait stumbled to her knees beside him and rested her hand on his shoulder. “Are you hurt?”
The coughing eased and Win spat out gritty sand. He nodded with a jerky motion, still rattled by the close call. “Just bruised.”
He began to push himself to a sitting position, and Cait helped him with a steady pressure on his back.
“You’re bleeding,” Cait suddenly said. “Let me take a look.”
Win glanced down at his throbbing arm and blinked at the red stain across his sleeve. “It’s nothing.”
Cait glared at him. Knowing he wouldn’t win this argument, he carefully held out his arm and was relieved to find it didn’t feel broken. He’d earned enough broken bones through the years to know what it felt like. “I’ve been cut worse shaving.”
Cait rolled her eyes at the phrase they’d both heard for years. “You, Pa, and Uncle Adam-one of you could be dying, and it’d be, ‘I’ve been cut worse shaving.’ ”
Win grinned. “You’re one to talk. You said it yourself one time.”
“My one and only time.” Cait unbuttoned Win’s cuff and rolled up the bloody sleeve. Her fingertips brushed his skin, leaving pockets of warmth, and she leaned so close that her flowery soap scent rose above the sour scent of sweat and fear. “When Pa told me I’d never have to shave, I cried.”
Win remembered the scene vividly. “You cried more over that than your broken collarbone.”
Cait huffed a soft laugh. “I don’t think Pa knew what to do with me.”
“Good thing I was around.”
Cait lifted her head and her eyes were almost warm. “I guess it was.” Her attention returned to his injury and her tone turned businesslike. “Let’s go to the porch and I’ll clean this up and bandage it for you.”
Although Win figured a tied bandanna around the wound would suffice, he didn’t argue. He didn’t want to disturb the fragile harmony between them.
Leaning on her more than necessary, Win relished the feel of her arm around his waist and her unique scent that reminded him of a field of wildflowers. He’d doubted he’d ever touch her again, even in friendship, after her chilly reception last evening. Exaggerating the seriousness of a minor wound was a small sin to have her so close.
She settled him on the rickety rocker on the porch and he wished he dared pull her onto his lap. As children they argued over who would get the rocker. Sometimes they decided by playing a marble game where they would take turns trying to hit each other’s marble with their own. The first to miss lost. But more often than not, they ended up scrunching together on the chair.
“Do you still have your topaz cat’seye?” Win asked curiously.
Cait paused before entering the cabin and studied him blankly, then comprehension filled her face. She dug into her pocket, drew her fist out, and opened her hand. In the center of her palm lay a golden brown marble. She shrugged and shoved it back into her pocket. “It got to be habit carrying it around.”
Amazed that she still had it, much less kept it with her all the time, Win realized maybe his Cait wasn’t long gone. That maybe the spirited but gentlehearted Cait he’d known most of his life was hiding behind this woman’s cool reserve.
“Do you still have yours?” she asked, still standing in the doorway and gazing at him intently.
For a moment, Win would’ve traded everything to have his lucky marble in his pocket, but he’d lost it long ago. “No.”
Disappointment flickered across her face, but all she said was “Oh.” Then she went into the cabin without another glance.
Chapter Three
ONCE INSIDE THE cabin, Cait leaned against the door and forced herself to breathe deeply. Between Win’s close encounter with Deil and the unearthing of longago feelings, she felt shaky and uncertain. Her heart gradually slowed its rapid gallop.
Memories she shared with Win unsettled her, and they jumbled with images of Deil trampling her father. She recalled with horrifying clarity the moment she believed Win would be struck down in the same manner as her father. Terror and helplessness slashed through her, leaving her weak and nauseous. If Deil had killed Win, too…
In two long strides, she crossed the room and seized the cool metal rifle in her trembling hands. Damn her father’s last words-a man’s life was worth far more than a broken promise.
She jerked open the cabin door and stormed out. Win glanced up from the rocking chair, his injured arm resting in his lap. “Cait?”
She ignored him, intent on her mission. Reaching the corral that held Deil, she lifted the rifle stock to her shoulder and sighted down the barrel at the center of the stallion’s forehead.
“What the hell are you doing?” Win demanded.
His appearance so close startled her, ruining her perfect aim. “Stay back.” She hardly recognized the growl as her voice.
Deil stared at her, motionless, his head held high as if daring her to squeeze the trigger. Cait was more than ready to take that dare.
Suddenly, Win jerked the rifle from her grip and she made a wild grab for it. Stepping back, he kept it out of her reach.
“Give it back!”
“Not until you tell me why you were going to shoot him.”
She made a final attempt to retrieve the weapon, but Win evaded her again. Fury thrummed through her as she breathed heavily. “He’s a killer!”
“I’m not dead.” Impatience made Win’s words curt.
“Pa is!” The truth burst out before she could stop herself. “Deil attacked Pa, trampled him. I dragged him out of the corral before Deil could finish him, but he’d been hurt so badly…so badly.” Her breath hitched and she dropped her chin to her chest, unable to bear the sympathy in Win’s eyes.
“The doc did what he could but Pa was bleeding inside and it was only a matter of time. I was going to put down the stallion then, but Pa wouldn’t let me. He said-” Her voice broke and she cleared her throat noisily. “He said Deil was my only hope of holding on to the ranch. He made me promise to send for you to tame Deil.” She finally lifted her chin and met his stunned gaze. “And now Deil almost killed you. He is the devil. He has to be put down before he kills anyone else.”
Win’s jaw muscle flexed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Cait turned away, incapable of facing him as she spoke the words that condemned her. “I was the one who talked Pa into going after the wild horses. I was the one hellbent on capturing Deil. I was the one who insisted on taming the stallion. If I hadn’t been so stubborn, Pa would still be alive.”
She felt his solid presence at her back. “If your pa didn’t want to go after them, he wouldn’t have. And if he thought Deil couldn’t be tamed, he wouldn’t have tried.”
Cait whirled around to find his face inches from hers. “We shouldn’t have tried, but we did, and now he’s dead.” She glared over his shoulder at the stallion. “And he’s still alive.”
Deil tossed his head and pranced around the corral, muscles rippling beneath his shiny black coat. As much as Cait loathed him, she admired him just as passionately. He was the most magnificent stallion she’d ever seen. How could such a beautiful creature be so evil?
“I wish you would’ve told me this before I started,” Win said wearily, rubbing his brow.