kept her thoughts to herself. Her father needed help on the ranch, more help than she could give, and Vince Monroe had broad shoulders and a strong back. The fact that he was Jessica’s father shouldn’t be held against him, Cassie supposed ungraciously as she hauled two bags of groceries from the car. After all, what had happened between Colton, Jessica and Cassie was long over.
She kicked the car door shut with her foot, then nearly tripped on Erasmus, who had bounded down the steps to greet her.
“You should be careful,” she warned the old dog as she backed through the kitchen door and set the ungainly sacks on the kitchen counter. Bending on one knee, she scratched Erasmus behind his ears. The old dog whined in ecstasy, rolling over on his back and exposing his belly. “Glutton,” Cassie teased.
“I thought I heard you drive in.” Her father, followed by Vince Monroe, walked stiffly into the kitchen. The television was still blaring from the living room, and Cassie made out the sounds of a pre-game talk show. “I was just telling Vince that it was about time for you to show up.”
“Glad you missed me,” she quipped.
Grinning, Ivan settled into his favorite chair near the wood stove.
As she began unpacking groceries, Cassie silently evaluated the two men. Her father and Vince were as different as night and day. Where her father was lean to the point of being gaunt, Vince was robust and supported a belly that stretched his belt to the last notch. Her father’s hair had turned steely and thin, but Vince’s sandy hair was thick and vital, his blue eyes still bright and quick. Cassie had the feeling that Vince Monroe didn’t miss much. She’d often wondered if he’d known of her involvement with Colton. As Jessica Monroe’s father, he must’ve realized that his daughter and Cassie had once vied for Colton’s affections. Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe he wasn’t that involved in his daughters’ lives.
“I suppose you’ve heard the news,” her father said, grinning widely, his eyes twinkling.
“What news?”
“McLean’s Black Magic reappeared. According to Vince, here, Curtis Kramer found him in one of the main pastures.”
“But—”
Vince shook his head and chuckled. “The same thing happened last year, you know. The stallion was gone for a few weeks and just showed up again. Old John was fit to be tied!” Vince hooted at the memory, and Ivan chuckled.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Cassie said, her thoughts tangled in emotions that should have been long dead. “Colton wouldn’t make this kind of mistake—he wouldn’t have come charging over here like a mad bull, making all sorts of accusations if the horse had just wandered into the wrong field. . . .”
“Boy, I would’ve loved to have been a fly on the wall when McLean found his horse,” Ivan muttered, reaching for the old coffeepot on the stove and pouring himself another cup. “Serves him right. How about a cup?” he asked his friend, but Vince spread his big hands and shook his head.
“How’d you find out about this?” Cassie asked.
Vince set his empty cup in the sink. “I ran into Bill Simpson in town today. He’d been over to the McLean spread and talked to Curtis Kramer. Simpson says McLean and Kramer are still scratching their heads over it.”
“You know, everyone at the McLean Ranch is sure he was stolen. Some big conspiracy or somethin’. Only thing they can’t explain is why anyone would bother taking the horse just to return him.” Vince chuckled deep in his throat. “If you ask me, Colton McLean had one too many shots taken at him. Maybe one grazed his head.”
Cassie stiffened, but she didn’t jump to Colton’s defense. After all, he thought her father was involved. “Where was Black Magic all this time?”
“No one knows—probably with the wild horses,” her father said.
Cassie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was relieved that Black Magic was safe, but also felt a small triumph. Though she told herself that she had outgrown her need for vengeance, she knew she would feel a warm glow of satisfaction in telling Colton just what she thought of him. She’d love to watch him eat crow! “So the horse was on McLean land the entire time?”
“No one knows for sure.”
“What about the snipped fence?”
“Beats me. McLean probably made it up,” Vince said as he reached for his hat and rammed it onto his broad head. “Thanks for your help with the tractor,” he said to her father.