LITMIR.BIZ

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disoriented.”

      Samples? For what purpose? Barrett wondered.

      “Fool thing to do. You deserve what you got,” Hatcher said.

      Shelby stood and lifted her chin. “So was it you who hit me from behind and locked me in the trunk of my car?”

      “’Course not,” he said. “If I’d known you were on my land, I’d have shot you.”

      Evie gasped and Barrett started to speak, but Shelby faced Hatcher, a glint of fire in her expression. “There is no need for threats. I apologize for trespassing. I was taking some surface samples and I didn’t realize I was no longer on my uncle’s property.”

      “But let’s be clear,” she continued. “That isn’t your mine. I have every right to enter and collect samples and I will do that in the near future.”

      “You gonna tell me I don’t own the property that’s been in my family for a hundred years?” he snapped.

      “Of course you own the land. That’s why I came to see you last week, but you wouldn’t talk to me. As I would have explained if you’d answered your phone or read your mail, you don’t own the mineral rights. My uncle does, and he wants an assay of the ore. That’s my job and you don’t have the legal right to interfere.”

      Hatcher’s mouth worked, brows drawn into a ferocious scowl. “I don’t care what the law says. If you step on my property again, I’ll kill you.”

      Barrett’s pulse hammered as he grabbed Hatcher by the arm. “That’s enough. You’re leaving.”

      Hatcher shook away Barrett’s grip but stalked to the front door with Barrett following. “Get your car off my property,” he called to Shelby. Before he stepped outside, he poked Barrett in the chest. “You won’t be so eager to help when you know who her kin is,” he hissed.

      Barrett stared him down. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not going to come into this home and threaten a woman’s life.”

      Muttering, Hatcher stomped down the porch steps.

      Barrett shut the door, Hatcher’s words replaying in his mind. As he returned to the kitchen, a trickle of suspicion slithered through his belly. It couldn’t be. “Shelby, who is your uncle?”

      “Ken Arroyo,” she said. “Do you know him?”

      Barrett could feel the weight of his family staring at him. Time seemed to slow as if the hands of the old carriage clock were being held by some invisible force, his breaths ticking along in rhythm.

      “Yes,” he said finally. “I know him.”

      “You’re neighbors,” she said uncertainly, “even though he’s not here for part of the year. You must be friends, then?”

      “No, not friends.” The furthest thing from friends.

      She cocked her head slightly, long tendrils that had escaped the ponytail curling around her face, her glance taking in the stricken looks around the table. “I can see that my uncle has no fans here. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

      No, he thought. No, I don’t.

      * * *

      She watched Barrett exhale long and slow. He couldn’t be older than his early thirties but there was a deep storehouse of grief and fatigue in his electric-blue eyes that made her wonder. He rubbed a hand over his chin as if to smooth away some painful thought.

      “Not the time. If you’re feeling better, I’ll drive you to the hospital, or you’re welcome to wait here for the police.”

      “I don’t need a hospital. I need to get back. The police can talk to me at Uncle Ken’s house.” She stood. “I’m okay and I can find my own way to my car.”

      “Begging your pardon, but I’ll escort you.”

      “Not necessary.”

      Barrett didn’t answer.

      Evie appeared to have recovered her composure. “We will bring you your clothes when they’re dry.”

      “Thank you very much, but I can pick them up. You have all been extremely kind. I can’t thank you enough.”

      Evie took her by the hand. There was something forced in her smile and it made Shelby sad. For a few minutes, it had been nice to feel like someone’s daughter again. It pained her that somehow things had changed, though she didn’t know why.

      “That’s what neighbors do,” Evie said. “Barrett will see you back.”

      Barrett stood stiffly by the door.

      “Hey,” Owen said, moving close to his brother. Shelby noted he had a pronounced limp. “I can take her,” he said quietly, but Shelby heard him anyway.

      Barrett shook his head. “I got this.”

      What was it about her relationship with Uncle Ken that had instantaneously set up a wall between her and the Thorn family?

      It’s not your problem. You’re here for Uncle Ken. The Thorns could put up walls for whatever reason and it was of no consequence to her. At the moment, her entire life goal was to get back to her uncle’s place and enjoy the hottest shower she could stand.

      Barrett led her outside. As she passed the foyer, she caught the scent of pine from a Christmas tree. It was standing in the corner of the room, festooned with ornaments. On the fireplace mantel, green branches were trimmed with tiny red glass balls. A framed photo graced the mantel, a grinning Barrett without the cowboy hat, his arm around a young woman, radiant in a wedding dress, her long hair pinned back with white roses. She was lovely. Barrett flicked her a glance, catching Shelby looking at the picture. She looked away and followed him outside.

      The rain had slackened off to a weak sprinkle. The events of the day overwhelmed her as her mind spooled through the memories. A sudden blow to the head, the sensation of being hauled into her trunk, the awful sound of the lid slamming shut.

      The attack had been from Joe Hatcher, she was sure of it, but why? Just to keep her away from the mine? Out of greed? Anger at her perceived trespassing? Or perhaps he had some deep-seated resentment about her uncle, too?

      “You ride?” Barrett said, pulling her back to the present.

      “Since I was a kid,” she said. That was probably overstating. She’d slacked off on her riding since her youth when she would visit her uncle in the summertime, but she found herself wanting to prove her worth to Barrett Thorn. Bad enough that he’d had to rescue her from a locked trunk and lug her out of a ravine. She couldn’t leave him thinking she was some flimsy damsel-in-distress type.

      He untied the horse that Jack had been riding. “Lady is a gentle ride.”

      She was right. He did think she was clueless. Ignoring his offered hand, she put her foot in the stirrup and climbed onto the saddle.

      Barrett mounted his horse and clicked his tongue at the big animal.

      Shelby was grateful that the rain had tapered off. Moonlight cast a weak glow over the landscape as they trailed back to where she’d parked her car. Her own stupid mistake made her groan inwardly. Some assayer. Hadn’t even realized she’d strayed onto Hatcher’s property.

      Determined not to incur any more embarrassment for one evening, she slipped off Lady and handed the reins to Barrett. He was a giant astride the big horse, and as immovable as a cliff.

      “Thank you again,” she said. “I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

      “Don’t owe me anything. I’ll help you find your keys or maybe I can hot-wire it.”

      “No need for you to stay. I’ll find them.”

      He ignored her, dismounting and beginning a search of the wet ground.

      She hesitated, curiosity burning inside. “Barrett,

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