"Sure am." Her smile widened at the thought. "I thought I wasn't supposed to be there until tomorrow."
"You're not. But if you want to take a look at what's waiting for you, we'll be glad to run you over."
"Have you seen jewel around?" Shannon asked in a too-casual voice. Her pulse sped up as she waited for his answer.
Rick's smile extended to his kind blue eyes. "Not in about a week. He's still roaming the hills though."
"Who's Jewel?" Allie asked.
"He's a horse my dad bought before he died. I named him and pretended he was a unicorn in disguise." Shannon never forgot her first glimpse of the stallion. As he stood silhouetted against the sunrise, she was sure she'd seen a horn on his head. For as long as she lived here, she'd tried to surprise the horse to see the horn again. Even now, as an adult, she wasn't sure it had been an illusion.
"I'll look for him tomorrow." The stallion's black coat had received many of her tears over the years. He was probably about eighteen years old now. She longed to see him.
"Let's get to work," Allie said.
"How about you sit at the table and talk to me while I work?" Shannon said, her gaze going to the woman's stomach.
"Girl, I'm pregnant, not dying. And cleaning is my thing"
"If you're only eight months, you're having one half grown."
Allie laughed. "It's a big boy. He'll probably come out twirling a rope."
"Or looking for a bull to ride." Shannon laughed, remembering the delicious sensation of awaiting the arrival of new life, of watching the babies move under her skin. "I'm not going to be responsible for the kid wanting to clean sinks instead of helping his dad muck out the stable. I'll work and you direct."
"Give it up, Shannon," Rick said. "My wife is a little powerhouse of energy. But we'll give her something easy to do."
Allie stuck her tongue out at him, picked up her pail of cleaning supplies, then went toward the screen door. "Let's get to work."
Shannon stood and threw open the cabinet doors. Having people here chased away the ghosts she'd glimpsed waiting for her.
THE SCENT OF HORSES, HAY, AND MANURE FILLED JACK MACGOWAN'S NOStrils. Some might have found it distasteful, but it meant money and excitement to him. He carried his saddle across the open field while his daughter, Faith, ran ahead of him with the mustang's halter. The desert had been roped off into makeshift corrals, and the place was as busy as a small town. Other horse trainers and numerous spectators thronged the dusty lot. News reporters with cameras and microphones roamed the open field as well. The mustangs that had been transported here snorted and neighed in the paddock.
"Stay back from the fence, Faith," he called. "The mustangs are dangerous." His practiced eye took in the horses racing around the corral. Nostrils flaring and eyes wild, most of them had never been this close to people before. He spotted a particularly handsome specimen. The stallion's coal black coat gleamed with sweat. Good lines, muscular.
Faith stopped two feet shy of the fence, but her face reflected her longing to climb it and see the mustangs up close and personal. Jack reached her and dropped the saddle.
"See the filly, Daddy?" she said, pointing to a small sorrel. "Can I have her?"
"You already have a pony." His gaze went over the sorrel's lines. She'd always be small, but she had a nice form and bright eyes. "Looks like she's limping, sweet pea. We want to take a good one home."
"Maybe she really needs a home," Faith said, her gaze tracking the horse. "Maybe she doesn't have a mommy either."
Jack winced. She'd been making statements like that more and more lately. He chose not to answer. He noticed Buzz Bollinger directing trucks of supplies from within a cloud of dust. The old mining camp with shacks that had housed a generation of workers would be the training ground for the bronc busters. Now weathered to gray, the old wooden buildings were hardly the lap of luxury.
Luckily for Jack, he lived close enough to stay home and drive here every day.
He waved to Buzz. "Let's go check in, Faith," he said. He picked up the saddle again and walked toward Buzz.
The big guy was going bald. He had to be nearly fifty by now, but he was still as skinny as a rattler. He looked up and saw Jack. "Howdy, pardner," he said in a terrible John Wayne imitation.
Jack grinned. Everyone who knew he collected John Wayne memorabilia tried that on him. "The Duke would roll over in his grave. You sound like Clint Eastwood."
Buzz slapped him on the back. "Jack MacGowan, you old bronc buster, I haven't seen you since you got thrown by that big bull in Cheyenne. How's the leg doing?"
Jack put down the saddle and shook Buzz's hand. "Pains me some during monsoon season. It's a good reminder of why I gave up the rodeo. You remember Faith?"
"Who could forget that cotton-candy hair?" Buzz ruffled her soft blonde tresses. "I thought I saw her on the other side of the camp a few minutes ago."
"We just got here. All the trainers arrive?"
"Yeah, they're all checking into their digs." Buzz made a face. "We'll be roughing it for a few weeks. You're lucky your ranch is just over the hill."
"How'd you decide to come here for the training?"
"It's out of the limelight. I thought you all could do your work in peace, at least away from casual gawkers. The media is here, but they won't bother us much until we're ready to show our stuff."
"How's my competition look?" Jack hadn't seen any of the other trainers yet, just stock handlers. At least none he'd recognized.
"Stiff. Tucker Larue is here. Breathing fire and brimstone and claiming he's going to toss your rear into the nearest cactus." Buzz shook his head and grinned. "Think you can handle him?"
"No problem." Jack had hoped not to run into his old nemesis for a while. Larue didn't know the meaning of "friendly competition." He was always out for blood. Some men hated to lose, and Larue was one of them.
Jack exhaled. "We got a vet here to check out the horses?"
"Yep. She'll be here tomorrow."
Faith tugged on his hand. "Daddy, butterflies!"
Jack glanced at the sprawling butterfly bush by the bunkhouse. Dozens of butterflies covered the shrub. "You can go look at them," he told her.
She ran to the bush and knelt to study the insects. Jack turned his attention back to Buzz. "What's the vet say about the mustangs? They all in good shape?"
Buzz shrugged. "She hasn't seen them yet, but the boys will be taking more than a gander or two at her. She's a looker." His attention caught on something over Jack's shoulder. "Hey, she's here today."
Jack turned to follow Buzz's gaze. A slim woman with nearly white blonde hair stood talking to Rick and Allie Bailey. Something about her rattled a memory, but he couldn't catch hold of it. "Did she go to school here?"
Buzz chewed on his unlit cigar. "Yep, she's from here. Old Man Astor's niece, Shannon."
Shannon Astor. Jack's face burned and it wasn't from the sun. He doubted he'd ever get over the guilt. He managed to smile and act nat ural. "She was the brain in school. Even though she was two years younger, lots of us in biology class went to her for tutoring. Man, that was eons ago. Another world. She's been gone awhile. What's she doing back here?"
"Old Earl left her the ranch, what's left of it. It's only pert near a hundred acres, not worth enough jingle for a good steak dinner. But she told me she wanted to raise her daughter where the air wasn't filled with car exhaust."
Jack frowned. He'd graduated with Earl's son, Curt. "I bet that went over well with his son. Losing the ranch, I mean."
Buzz shrugged. "Curt's a horse lawyer in Austin. He'd never live in the desert again. That land's small potatoes to him. I'd heard he suggested his dad give it to Shannon."
Jack was only listening with half an ear. He needed to get Faith and go back to the corral. He turned to find her and realized there were three little girls entranced by the butterflies.
Watching them lean in with intent faces made him smile. Until he realized that two of those little girls had identical blonde hair and dark blue eyes. He blinked to clear his double vision, but nothing changed. Two little girls so alike it was hard to take in. Not quite identical, but almost. He stared at one, then the other, as he felt the world he knew shift under his feet.
2
SHANNON'S GAZE TOOK IN THE MELEE OF DUST, HORSES, AND MEN. HER adrenaline surged at the thought of the coming days. She had been discussing the merits of the various horses with Rick, and she was so engrossed she'd barely heard Allie say she was taking the girls to look at the butterflies.
She understood horses better than people.
"You're having to hit the ground running," Rick said. "You sure you're up to it?"
"I'm thrilled at the opportunity. It was good of Grady to suggest me for the job."
"We're gonna miss him as our vet."
"But now you'll have more of his time as your pastor, right?"
Rick nodded and grinned. "It's been a long time coming for him and Dolly."
Shannon smiled up at him. "You sure got a darling in Allie. I love her already."
His grin widened. "Me too. I never dreamed I'd be so lucky. God dropped her right into my lap, and neither of us had a choice about it."
She couldn't spot her daughter or Allie in the throng of blue jeans, boots, and cowboy hats. "Where'd she go with the girls?"
"Over by the bunkhouse. There's a mass of butterflies on the bush, and Kylie was begging to go see."
"Kylie is nuts about butterflies." She fell into step beside Rick to skirt the line of cowboys checking into their bunkhouses.
Kylie's blonde head caught her attention and she smiled at the rapt expression on her daughter's face. Wait a minute where had Kylie gotten that pink shirt? She'd worn a blue shirt that matched her eyes when they'd left the house. Shannon had never seen this one before with its ruffled neck and sleeves.
Shannon and a man called out names at the same time.
"Kylie!"
"Faith!"
The child in pink turned toward the man who'd called her Faith. Shannon stopped and stared. The little girl who looked so much like her daughter ran to the man, who lifted her in his arms. Her fists clenched at the familiar embrace from a stranger. She'd taught Kylie better.
She started toward him to yank her daughter away. With his back to her, she didn't recognize him. Then she saw past him to Betsy, hand in hand with Kylie? Shannon blinked hard, and her gaze went back to the other child, whom she now realized had hair a shade darker than Kylie's.
Kylie spotted Shannon. "Mommy, I found my sister!" She tugged her hand out of Betsy's and ran to her mother.
The man turned around with his daughter in his arms. She recognized him immediately. The green of his eyes had always made her think of the desert in springtime. Jack MacGowan. She'd sworn his actions had killed her latent crush, but her stomach still churned at the sight of him, and her nails bit into her palms. She'd hoped he'd moved on. Last she heard, he was following the rodeo circuit, much to his father's dismay.
The years had been kind to him. At thirty-four, he still had thick and curly hair. His muscular frame didn't carry an ounce of extra weight. Only the lines around his eyes betrayed the passing of time since he'd been a star quarterback and she'd been the studious sophomore with the handmade clothes. She struggled past her anger to remember the name of his wife. Blair Stickman, captain of the cheerleading squad. They'd dated all through high school.
He came toward her. "Shannon, good to see you after all these years." He glanced down at Kylie, who was clinging to Shannon's hand. "Our girls look so much alike, it's bizarre."
Shannon couldn't take her eyes off Faith long enough for it to sink in that he was acting as though he hadn't destroyed her life. "I thought she was Kylie at first."
He put Faith down. The girls linked hands and began to chatter as if they'd been friends forever. "I don't get this," he said in a soft voice.
A thought too horrible to contemplate began to form in Shannon's mind. She couldn't put her mind around the girls' astounding similarities. It wasn't possible. That kind of thing didn't happen except in the papers.
"When was Faith born?" she asked. The girls couldn't be more than a few months apart in age.
"She's five. She'll be six on April 14."
"That's Kylie's birthday," she said. Before her mind could replay that day five years ago, she made herself focus on Jack. "Faith was born in the local birthing clinic? I kind of remember that now that you mention it. Your wife is Blair, a redhead?"
He lifted a brow. "Yeah. Was. She died."
"I'm sorry," she said mechanically. She hadn't heard about Blair's death and wasn't about to dwell on it now. The ramifications of her memories caused Shannon's gut to plunge. Jack had nearly black hair. Blair's was red. Where had Faith's pale blonde hair come from? It couldn't be, could it? And the way he studied her the concentrated frown, the suspicious glint in his eye made her mind go too dull to think this out.
"I've got to go." She scooped up Kylie and rushed away. Jack called after her, but she hurried on. Her blood pounded in her ears, and her breath came in gasps.
But she couldn't outrun the implications of the girls' resemblance. No, no, it couldn't be. She wouldn't let herself even consider the possibility. Kylie struggled in her arms, crying out, and Shannon slowed to a stop and kissed her daughter's soft cheek. The little-girl scent calmed her enough to help her think.
There had to be some other explanation. Something that didn't require a huge effort to get right. She didn't have the time, money, or energy to climb the mountain looming ahead.
"Mommy, I want down. I want to talk to my sister," Kylie said, still struggling.
Shannon realized Rick was calling her too. And how did she even answer Kylie? Out of breath, she turned to see Rick running after her. Allie waddled behind with Betsy. She waited to let them catch up.
Rick reached her. "What's going on? You ran off like a cougar was chasing you."