Wyoming True - Diana Palmer Page 0,14

of violence only half remembered when she awoke.

So she avoided sleep. She avoided men. She avoided almost all contact with other human beings. Her only companion was old Butler, curled up in his kitty bed, sound asleep.

There was a wide-screen television, the latest model, with every satellite channel known to man on it. But the centerpiece of the room was a grand piano. Ida’s first husband had played beautifully. He had her taught.

She was a quick study, too. She’d always loved music. Piano came as naturally to her as breathing, to his utter delight. She memorized his favorite pieces and played them for him when they were at home together, which wasn’t often.

Leaving the coffee on the table, she went to the piano, positioned the bench, sat down and put her right foot near the pedals on the floor.

Her very favorite song was an old one that her grandmother had loved. She’d had several recordings of it by different singers and groups, but it was the one by Steve Alaimo that was her favorite. Ida had grown up hearing it, loving it. Her hands went to the keys and she began to play, her eyes closed, the music filling up all the empty, frightened places inside her.

She was oblivious to everything around her when she played, even to the sound of the doorbell. It did finally get through to her. She stopped in the middle of a bar, jumped to her feet and moved as quickly as she could to the front door.

Jake McGuire was standing there, watching her curiously.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you drive up.”

“One of my men drove my Mercedes over here. He’s waiting for me.” He studied her. “Your radio was pretty loud,” he said. “No wonder you didn’t hear the cars. My grandfather used to play that song. What’s it called?”

“‘Cast Your Fate to the Wind,’” she replied.

“Catchy tune.”

“It is,” she agreed, without telling him it was she, herself, playing it.

He handed her a smart key on a key ring with a silver leaper, the Jaguar symbol, attached. “It handles like a dream,” he remarked. “I might even consider getting one of my own.”

She smiled. “Thanks for all the trouble.”

“It wasn’t. Trouble, I mean,” he replied.

She stared up at him with conflicted emotions, feeling things she didn’t want to feel. He was only being kind. It was indifferent kindness. He didn’t even like her, for God’s sake!

He was having the same kind of issues. His perception of her had changed. She wasn’t the wild woman he’d thought she was. He was curious about her. He didn’t want to be.

Just as the tension reached flash point, there was a quick tap on the door and a tall man with dark hair and even darker eyes came into the house.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said curtly, “but we’ve got a problem with one of the horses.”

“Which one?” she asked at once. “Not Silver?” she added worriedly.

“No, ma’am, not him. It’s the palomino mare. The one that foaled last week.”

She sighed. “Gold. She’s had so many problems since we delivered that colt,” she replied sadly. “What’s wrong with her? Do you know?”

“She’s got deep cuts on both her flanks,” he said without inflection. “Bad ones.” He had a closed expression as he spoke.

“But she’s only been out in the pasture,” Ida exclaimed. “And there’s nothing that could have injured her there!”

“I know,” Laredo replied quietly. “I checked.” His dark eyes were saying things to her that she didn’t want to share with Jake.

She just sighed. “Call the vet and see if he can come at once.”

“I’ll get right on it.” He went out without another word.

Jake’s eyebrow rose. “An employee?”

“One of my new cowboys,” she replied, but she was lying and she didn’t do it well.

He smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. “Have a nice day.”

“Thanks for bringing my car to me,” she said quietly.

He just shrugged and kept on walking.

And so much for wild dreams, she told herself as she went back inside and closed the door.

* * *

SHE WALKED OUT to the barn where the palomino was stabled. The mare, Gold, was standing, but long, bloody cuts were visible on her hindquarters. Even Ida could see the pain the animal was in. The new man, Laredo Hall, was kneeling beside the horse with one of the ranch’s cowboys at his side. The mare shied away from him.

“Oh, Gold, my poor baby!” Ida said worriedly. She went into the stall and drew her fingers down the mare’s soft mane.