Rustler's Heart (A Kinnison Legacy Novel) (5 page)

“Hey Liberty?” Aimee called quietly.

“Yeah?” She glanced at the kind woman.

“You’re very pretty, too. Without the make-up. I didn’t notice last night how your eyes are the same color as Wyatt and Dalton’s.”

Liberty smiled and ducked her head as she entered the kitchen. Wyatt eyed her and returned to flipping pancakes.

“Sleep well?”

“It’s really quiet out here. I’m not used to that,” she replied.

His gaze took her in. “I suspect you’ll have a lot of things to get used to while you’re here.”

The backdoor opened, and Rein stepped in. He tried to hide his startled expression, but those clear blue eyes were as open as a book. In a hurry it seemed, he passed them with but a nod and disappeared in to the other room. She could hear him chatting with Aimee, asking whether someone named Sally would be stopping by today to discuss the wedding.

Liberty folded her arms across her chest and dove in. “I didn’t get the chance to really congratulate you properly about your engagement. I realize I’ve missed out on all the preparations, but I’d like to be of help. Maybe I could do something nice for the both of you.”

The muscle of his clean-shaven jaw ticked as he flipped another pancake. “That’s much appreciated, but you being here is quite enough.” He handed her a platter of pancakes. “Can you take these to the dining room? The guys ought to be here soon.”

Mulling over his remark, she carried the plate in and found Rein seated at the table, perusing the morning paper. His gaze met hers, locking for a moment before he put the paper down and motioned her closer. Thinking it pancakes he wanted, she held out the plate, surprised when his hand closed around her wrist. He took the plate from her hand and set it aside, and holding her gaze, leaned forward until their noses nearly touched. Liberty’s heart thudded in her chest. Those piercing eyes, the color of a brilliant summer day, held hers.

“Just a little advice.” He spoke low, the sound of it sending a shiver across her shoulders. She pressed her lips together, trying not to imagine what his lips might taste like. He smiled and though pleasant, her gut cautioned against becoming too comfortable around him.

“Around here, we dress before breakfast.” Leaving wide open the implication that he knew fully she’d been a stripper in Vegas. Just the same, she wasn’t going to let this cowboy or anyone else make her feel small. She reached out to trace the front collar of his snap shirt with her black polished fingernail. “Thanks for the tip.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, his body stiffening as she moved closer, her cheek brushing his.

“This is more clothes than I usually wear before breakfast,” she whispered in his ear, straightening. Her lip curled when his gaze darted to hers with a flicker of a challenge. “You couldn’t handle it, cowboy.” She answered that surprised expression and watched with pleasure as his mouth gaped, but he had no response. There might be eight years difference between them, but damn if they weren’t going to get a few things straight between them—namely, she didn’t take well to being bossed around and she wasn’t his baby sister.

A few moments later, when she returned in jeans and a black t-shirt with the rhinestone studding, “Vegas,” emblazoned across her chest, she found several men seated at the table. There were two spots left—one next to Wyatt, which she presumed for Aimee and one directly across from Rein. She mentally considered how satisfying it would be to kick him in the shins and added cowboy boots t her list of immediate purchases.

Wyatt and the others rose as she came around the table. Rein a little slower on the uptake. She’d never received that kind of treatment, even from Angelo. Aimee appeared from the kitchen, a glass of juice in hand. Liberty noticed her skin had a waxy, pale sheen to it. She sat down with a quiet sigh and dropped her napkin in her lap. At the opposite end of the table sat a man with similar facial features as Wyatt’s, but with a different build. Where Wyatt was taller and slightly lanky, this man had broad shoulders that filled out his black tee shirt. He remained standing, his gaze narrowing on Liberty as he held out his hand.

“I’m Dalton. And you must be Liberty Belle.” He had his brother’s intensely brown eyes. “I apologize for not being here last night when you arrived. I had a previous engagement.”

Wyatt shot his brother a dark look. Rein cleared his throat.

“Don’t pay attention to them. They don’t understand my passion for pool.” Dalton grinned.

“Or for Dusty’s Place in general,” Wyatt mumbled. “Ow.” He darted a glance at his fiancée, who apparently had worn her boots.

“Are you familiar with the game?” Dalton asked ignoring his brother’s remark.

Liberty took his proffered hand, feeling an immediate camaraderie to Dalton. “I carry a Fury HL.”

A low-whistle and raised brow from Dalton followed. His smile, as handsome as Wyatt’s, indicted she’d already won him over. “A classic style. I’m impressed.”

Liberty shrugged. “I spent a lot of time at the Riviera, watching the tournaments. You can’t touch Kelly “Kwikfire” Fisher.”

Dalton closed his eyes and slapped his hand to his heart. “A woman after my own heart. Maybe we can head up to Dusty’s, and you can show me what you’ve got.”

She nodded and sat down, grinning at him. Maybe things weren’t going so be so bad after all. “I’d like that.”

Rein shifted in his chair. “If you two wouldn’t mind holding off on comparing pool cues, I’d like to go over what needs to be done before this ranch in inundated with people in a couple of days.”

Dalton made a face and gave Liberty a conspirator-type wink.

“I would like to meet the person who brings new energy to this house,” stated an older man seated next to Rein. His silver and black hair trailed down his back in a single braid. His face, weathered by years of being in the sun, appeared serene. In his eyes, there was an unmistakable wisdom.

Wyatt took Aimee’s hand, respect clear in how he looked at the man. “Liberty, this is Michael Greyfeather. He’s one of my dad’s dearest friends and knows this ranch—hell, he knows this entire area better than any of us.”

“It is an honor to meet you.” The old man nodded.

“And this is Tyler Jacobs,” Rein said. “He owns the heating and plumbing store in town.” The man, probably close to Rein’s age, nodded as he reached across and took Liberty’s hand.

“Ma’am.”

The odd mix of people impressed on Liberty how, despite their diversity, these people had come together as family. It gave her a glimmer of hope that she, too, might make a connection here.

“It’s nice to meet you all, but please. Go on with your conversation. I’m anxious to hear more about these cabins.”

Dalton dug into his breakfast, while Wyatt and Aimee seemed preoccupied in a quiet conversation. Mr. Greyfeather spoke up, “It is Rein who’s best suited to explain his uncle’s vision. It’s a journey we all walk, but he is leading us.”

Remembering what Aimee said the night before, she wanted to learn more. “I’d very much like to hear about your uncle’s dream.” Liberty started in on her breakfast, beginning to feel a connection to those around her.

“Jed believed in hard work, thought it made a person stronger. God knows, that’s how he raised the three of us. He had a giving way about him, always doing for others and very involved in the community. He decided one day, he’d like to make the ranch a place where folks without direction could, through work and nature, find purpose and perhaps a sense of direction in their lives.”

Liberty listened, heat flushing her face as she realized that he could have been talking about her. She glanced up and caught his steady gaze, realizing that to him, she was a test run…a guinea pig in need of reformation. She averted her eyes from his by pushing around the food on her plate. “It sounds like a noble undertaking. Maybe I can be of some help?”

Rein drained the last of his coffee and cleared his throat. “I’ve got Dalton, thanks.” He dismissed her offer and turned to Aimee. “What time did you say Sally’d be by?”

Aimee’s gaze turned to Rein, and then scanned the faces around the table. Her mouth turned down. Her expression wavered between panic and confusion as she slapped her hand to her mouth and darted from the table. From the bathroom nearby, came sounds that had the rugged men at the table pushing back their plates. Their faces silently questioning if the others understood what had just happened.

Liberty looked from one to the other. “When is the wedding?”

“This Sunday afternoon.” Dalton answered. Wyatt fidgeted with his fork, uncertain whether to go to Aimee’s aid or not. There was no way of escaping the horrid sounds echoing from the bathroom.

Liberty picked up her coffee cup and glanced at Wyatt. “It’s a good thing, because that lady’s got a great deal more going on.” The dark circles, the emotions, and the smell of fried food…it became as clear as a wide Montana sky.

Wyatt’s gaze turned to her. “Like what?” Rein and Dalton asked in unison with their older brother.

“Like a baby.” She stared at their blank collective gaze. “Really? You didn’t notice the symptoms?”

The shock registered on Wyatt’s face was answer enough.

***

With all the chaos going on with preparation for the wedding, now the bride-to-be puked up her guts on a regular basis. Rein watched Liberty step in without being asked, to take care of things like preparing meals and cleaning the kitchen. He and Dalton on the other hand, tried to stay away from the main house as much as possible. Rein woke at dawn, determined to finish the cabin before the weekend

The insistent ring of his cell phone prompted him to search for the device hidden beneath the sheets of blueprints. He grabbed the phone and punched to answer the familiar number. “What’s up, Hank?” The caller, Henry “Hank” Richardson, a close friend and old college classmate, who now lived now in Illinois. When he found out that Hank received his pilot’s license, the Kinnison ranch hired him to fly them regularly to meetings with buyers. Last December the three—Dalton, Rein and Hank—found themselves grounded when an unexpected blizzard swept across the Dakotas and Iowa. The same storm had left Aimee and a small group of her students stranded at the ranch while on a field trip. While Wyatt revealed little in the way of details of that three-day confinement, it was clear that the experience had left him a changed man.

By New Year’s Eve he’d proposed to Aimee, and they began plans to marry at the ranch come late spring. It was a welcome change that set a renewed interest in just about everything in Wyatt’s once solitary existence, including a major financial push toward building the cabins to fulfill Jed Kinnison’s dream of making Last Hope Ranch a place to heal.

“Hey, just wanted to give you a buzz and ask if it’d be okay to bring Caroline with me this weekend. She’s back from Europe for a visit and has been asking about you.”

Caroline
. His gut clenched with the sound of her name. Hank’s little sister. He’d met her the first time he’d gone home with Hank for a weekend. He’d been her first, on a rainy day in the privacy of the pool house on the Richardson estate. To his knowledge, no one, not even Hank at the time, had known. When she started the next fall at the same college, they had resumed their intense affair, barely leaving each other’s side for the next three years. Rein was smitten, certain she would be the only woman he could ever love. He’d prepared to propose to her when she received the opportunity to go study abroad in her last semester. Promises made. Passionate declarations and weekly letters followed for a time. But after a month, the letters waned, and the relationship eventually grew cold. It had been a bittersweet split, and Hank had enough sensitivity not to bring up his sister’s name when he and Rein were together. “Caroline?” Her name rolled of his tongue in quiet reverence.

“Yeah, my little sister?” There was a pause on the line. “She saw the invitation and wanted me to ask if you’d mind her tagging along. She wanted to see how you’re doing. Catch up.”

Rein blinked from the memory of the statuesque dark-haired beauty that dominated nearly his every waking moment and most of his dreams.
Catch up?
“Things are a little crazy, Hank. I’m up to my armpits in this cabin rental project.”

“Yeah, I told her about your furniture-making skills. She mentioned that she’d like to see your work.” Rein hesitated, unsure how he’d feel seeing her again.

“Hey, I realize that you two kind of had a thing once. If it’s too uncomfortable, I’ll tell her. I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Rein chewed the corner of his lip.
A thing?
Yeah, it was damn lucky she hadn’t gotten pregnant—kind of
thing
. But Hank didn’t know that. Few did. It had been explosive. They were young, taking risks, living for the moment and not caring about anyone else.
A thing?
Hell, yeah. Would it be setting off a powder keg to see her again? Maybe, maybe not. Had she gotten married? Did she have kids? His curiosity made him want to drill Hank for more information, but at the same time, the memory of his affair with Caroline had taken a long time to shake off. Unsure of what seeing her again might dredge up, he’d just have to ‘cowboy up’ and find out. “Sure, bring her along. It’ll be great to see her.” He played down the remark as he smoothed his thumb along a sheet of bubble wrap packing and then wadded it in his fist, feeling the small pockets burst in succession beneath his grasp.

“Great, we’ll fly into End of the Line and call you Friday night. Any plans to throw Wyatt a bachelor party?”

Rein raised his brows. “Uh, nope. Wyatt told us he preferred to have a family dinner this week and invite the attendants, so that’s what we’re doing. That’s about as crazy as Wyatt wants things just now.” He didn’t feel it necessary to explain between the wedding and getting used to the idea of being a dad, his brother had enough crazy going on in his life.

“Fair enough. See you soon then, buddy.”

“Okay, Hank. Safe travel.” He broke off the connection and stared at the wad of bubble wrap in his fist. Dalton had gone out to chop up some wood to bring in for the stove. Even though late spring, the mountains still got chilly at night. He heard a loud thump and his head jerked up. Liberty, who’d dropped her giant duffle bag, stood inside the front door, her gaze scanning the interior of the cabin.