Should Have Been Her Child. Stella Bagwell
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But, Victoria, aren’t you going to at least make a quick call to the ranch?” she asked with amazement. “If the law is headed out there…something must be happening.”
Victoria’s soft lips tilted into an indulgent smile for her nurse and friend. “They probably found the stud that’s been missing for the past couple of weeks. And if that’s the case, everyone on the ranch will have reason to celebrate tonight.” She motioned for Nevada to join her as she headed out of the room. “Quit worrying and follow me. If I’m not mistaken, I still have three more patients to see before quitting time. We have work to do.”
For the next hour, Victoria put any thoughts of the T Bar K out of her mind as she listened to aches and complaints and wrote down orders and prescriptions. Even though she was a Ketchum and still lived on the ranch, she was a doctor first and foremost and her patients’ welfare was something she always put before herself.
But later that evening, after she’d left the clinic and headed her vehicle north out of Aztec, a strange sense of dread gnawed at the pit of her stomach. In all likelihood, the law had gone to the T Bar K to talk to her brother about the missing stallion. She couldn’t imagine them going to the ranch for any other reason. Yet something like that wouldn’t be considered an emergency requiring radio dispatch, she silently reasoned.
Don’t borrow trouble, she scolded herself as she forced her fingers to relax on the steering wheel. For all she knew her nosy patient might have gotten his information mixed up. And anyway, even if men from the sheriff’s department had visited the ranch, that didn’t mean Jess had been one of them.
No, Jess Hastings, the undersheriff of San Juan County, probably had much more important things on his docket than to travel out to the home of an old flame.
Old flame. Dear Lord, how could she think of herself in those terms, she wondered. Jess has been out of her life for four years or more now. She was nothing to him. And obviously never had been.
After traveling several miles, she turned off the highway and onto a graveled road leading east into the high desert mountains.
May had brought much warmer weather to northern New Mexico. The snows in the higher elevations had started to melt, flooding the streams and rivers below. The Animas River, which cut through a section of the T Bar K, lay to the left of the winding dirt road. Now and then Victoria caught sight of the rushing rapids as her vehicle began the climb that would eventually take her to the ranch house.
When she finally entered the main gate leading up to the rambling log structure, the spring sun had already slid behind the mountains. Dusky purple shadows shrouded the house, which was perched on a ledge high enough to give a partial view of the valley floor below. Ketchum land. Farther than the eye could see.
But at the moment, Victoria wasn’t seeing anything except the two utility vehicles with official markings of the San Juan County sheriff’s department parked a few feet from the rail fence running in front of the house.
So Nevada’s warning had been right, she thought, as she deliberately drove around to the back entrance of the house. Something had happened. She could only pray it wasn’t something bad. The Ketchum family had already had their share of bad this past year. What with Tucker dying, a drought putting a heavy financial strain on the ranch and then the stud’s disappearance, she could hardly imagine getting more wretched news.
As always, the long kitchen was warm and filled with the spicy scents of waiting supper. At the huge gas range, the cook, Marina, glanced over her shoulder as Victoria’s footsteps tapped across the tiled floor.
“Better not go to living room, chica. There’s a powwow goin’ on,” the older woman warned.
Biting back a sigh, Victoria reached up and slipped the clasp from her hair to allow the thick black chocolate waves to tumble down around her shoulders. As she massaged her scalp, she reached for a glass in the cupboard.
“I saw the vehicles parked out front. What sort of powwow is going on? Has the stallion been found?”
Marina’s chuckles were mocking as she pushed a wooden spoon through a pot of bubbling cheese sauce. “Somethin’ has been found. But it no horse, chica.”
Victoria paused anxiously as she pushed the glass under the tap. “What? How long has the law been here anyway?”
Marina put down her spoon and looked at Victoria. The Mexican woman had worked for the ranch longer than Victoria could remember. She was always jolly, gentle and compassionate. And now that Tucker and Amelia were gone, she was the last of the old ones. Though she wasn’t an educated woman, and spoke only broken English, Victoria respected her wisdom just the same.
“Three hours, maybe. I was about—”
Marina’s words stopped abruptly as the sound of someone entering the kitchen caught the attention of both women.
Victoria glanced around the cook’s shoulder and immediately went stone still at the sight of Jess Hastings sauntering into the room. Even though he was dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeved white shirt, the gun strapped to his hip and the badge on his chest told her he was on duty.
The moment he spotted her his mouth tightened, his eyes narrowed. Yet even from a distance she could see the span of four years hadn’t changed him all that much. He was still long, lean and sinfully male. And suddenly her heart was racing like a wild animal caught in a deadly trap.
Thankfully, Marina wasn’t as affected by the man. With one hand on her ample hip, she turned to face him. “You lost?”
Ignoring the cook’s sarcasm, he inclined his head toward Victoria.
“I’d like to speak with Ms. Ketchum. Alone.”
Dear Lord, how many times had she tried to forget that voice? The way it roughened with passion or softened like velvet. There was just a hint of a drawl in it now, reminding Victoria he’d been living near El Paso for the past four years.
She took a step toward him and forced herself to speak. “Marina is busy with supper. We can talk in the study.”
He nodded and she walked briskly past him, out of the kitchen and down a long, dim hallway which led to the east wing of the house.
Even without the sound of his boots making contact with the polished pine floor, Victoria would have known he was following. She could feel his presence behind her. Big, masculine, menacing.
Once inside the study, she switched on a table lamp, took a deep breath, then turned to face him.
“What’s this all about?” she asked without preamble.
His lips twisted and once again her gaze zeroed in on achingly familiar features. The square jaw, jutted chin and eyes as gray as an angry thundercloud. He was not a handsome man. He was simply all male. Rough. Tough. And oh, so irresistible. She’d never wanted any man the way she’d wanted this one. And since him, she hadn’t wanted any.
“I should have known there would be no ‘hello, Jess,’ or ‘how are you doing, Jess?’”
The directness of his stare dared her to look away from him. Victoria’s chin lifted ever so slightly at the challenge.
“I didn’t expect you to want a greeting from me,” she said.
He moved toward her and didn’t stop until there was only the width of his hand separating the two of them. “I expect common courtesy from everyone. Including you Ketchum.”
Her blood was pumping through her veins at such a high rate she actually felt light-headed. It was all she could do to stop herself from grabbing the front of his starched shirt just to keep herself from swaying.
“I didn’t hear you asking about my well-being,” she retorted.
His eyes took their slow, easy time slipping over her long dark hair, soft white skin, blue-green eyes and full red lips. She was as gorgeous as he remembered. Maybe even more so, if that was possible.
For four years he’d