Bound by Honor. Donna Clayton
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who kept himself isolated from the world. Well, he couldn’t avoid her. She meant to see him.
“Gage Dalton!”
Several birds in the treetops were startled into flight.
She descended the porch steps and rounded the corner of the house. To her surprise, she saw a fenced paddock where two black-and-white horses moseyed about. There were several outbuildings, as well as a large stable located down a short, dusty lane.
The property was substantial, she realized, amazed she hadn’t observed its size as she’d approached the house in her car. She turned, her gaze scanning the hard-packed, winding gravel drive. Fences spanned as far as she could see, and more horses grazed in one of several enclosed meadows. She’d seen enough western movies to identify those horses. Gage Dalton bred pintos.
She called, “Hello!”
He stepped into her view, stopping in the open double doors of the stable. Shirtless, he clasped a metal rake in one hand.
Her eyes cruised down the length of him. Sunlight gleamed against his bronze chest. Abdominal muscles rippled all the way down to the worn blue jeans that rode low on his trim waist and hugged his thighs. She dragged her gaze back up to his face. Those black eyes homed in on her, making her feel as if the very air around her had constricted. Even though he must have been nearly fifty yards away, she could sense the same tense displeasure pulsing from him as she’d felt the terrible, stormy day when they’d first met. Clearly, he hadn’t been expecting a visitor, nor was he happy to see one.
The sight of him impelled her to turn tail and run. But thoughts of little Lily whispered through her mind, prompting Jenna to stand her ground. Her motive for being here was all-important. Even the formidable Gage Dalton couldn’t keep her from getting what she wanted.
Well, he could. But she planned to do everything in her power to see that he didn’t.
Ignoring his unwelcoming countenance, Jenna trudged toward him. She hoped her cheery smile hid the emotions warring inside her.
The closer her steps brought her to him, the heavier her doubt about his help grew.
A soft summer breeze fluttered the ends of his long hair.
“Hello, there.” She was pleased that her greeting came out so smoothly. But then the stammering started. “I—I was a little wet and disheveled w-when we last m-met…and it’s been weeks ago…so…well…I don’t know if you remember me, but—”
“Jenna Butler.”
Her shoulders relaxed as relief soothed the anxiety that provoked the awkward song and dance she’d just performed. Without thought, she softened her tone to nearly a whisper and murmured, “Oh, good. You do remember.”
The seconds ticking by felt like eons as the warm sunshine beat down on her head and shoulders. Finally, he shifted his grip on the wooden pole, planting the rake’s prongs into the ground. The impatience in the gesture had her nervousness sprouting to life all over again.
Jenna had known the task at hand was going to be tough, but she hadn’t realized just how tough. Now that she was face-to-face with Gage Dalton and about to ask an awesome favor…why, she couldn’t remember a time when she’d felt more ill at ease.
“H-how are you?” she blurted. “You hit your head during the accident, I remember.”
“I’m alive.”
She couldn’t read much from his deadpan expression. Feeling the need to infuse some amiability between them, she chuckled. “That’s good. Sure beats the alternative.”
Her humor seemed lost on him.
Grasping for something more to break the ice, she looked around her, commenting, “You’ve got a nice place here.”
“I like it.”
So he wasn’t much of a talker. She should have guessed as much, judging from what she’d learned of him. But it sure would be nice if she didn’t have to work so hard.
She had to warm things up a little before broaching the favor she needed from him. If she just blurted out her question, cold turkey, he’d think she was insane.
Jenna, my girl, a voice in her head groaned silently, you are insane.
She tried again. “The horses are beautiful.” Glancing over at the animals in the pen, she added, “I’ve never spent much time around horses, but I know those are pintos from the old cowboy movies I watched as a kid. They sure are majestic-looking creatures. Proud. Untouchable. They might be enclosed, but they sure do look wild.”
As if on cue, one of the horses snorted and clawed at the dusty ground with his hoof.
“They’re tame,” he assured her. “What you see is attitude. If a horse is broken to the point that it’s docile, it’s no better than a pack mule. My horses are intelligent and strong and spirited.”
Seemed Gage Dalton possessed a healthy share of attitude himself. Life sparked in his onyx eyes as he talked about the animals he raised. Then he leveled his gaze on her.
“Is that why you’re here? You’re interested in a pinto?”
The question elicited another chuckle from her, this one completely natural. “Oh, no,” she told him. “Not me. I wouldn’t know one end of a horse from the other.”
She couldn’t tell if the tiny crease that suddenly marred his high brow was a sign of curiosity or suspicion. He glanced down at the ground, tapped the rake absently with his foot, and then lifted his chin to meet her gaze.
“Well, you’ve found out that I weathered the accident just fine,” he said. “And you’ve complimented my ranch. And my horses. We could talk about the weather, if you like. Or how rising gasoline prices are thinning our wallets. But I’d prefer it if we cut the small talk. I have stalls to muck before I can stable those horses. Why don’t you save us both some time and tell me why you’re here?”
The blunt question left her momentarily speechless. But then, before she’d even had time to think, words began tumbling off her tongue.
“My sister died. The day of the storm. The day you and I met on the road. I remember telling you I was on my way to the hospital.” Anguish gathered in a tight ball high in her chest. “Her husband was killed, too. They…they ran off the road. The car flipped. Into a ravine. My brother-in-law died instantly. Amy…my sister…sh-she held on for several hours.” The emotion rose to knot in her throat. It became so overwhelming that she had to glance toward the horizon as she whispered, “But she passed soon after I reached the hospital.”
Jenna blinked back the tears that burned her eyes. She would not cry. She didn’t know this man, refused to show her vulnerability to him. He had to know her story, though. Otherwise, how could he understand her plight? The tribal council had forced her into a desperate situation, and that was the only reason she was here. But Gage Dalton must not see her as weak. Because she wasn’t.
It was the stark silence that drew her from her thoughts. Why didn’t he say something? What kind of person didn’t offer condolences after learning about a death in the family? In this case, two deaths.
Her gaze clashed with Gage’s, and the sentiment clouding his eyes shocked her. Sympathy rolled off him in waves. He didn’t have to say a word; everything he felt was expressed in those soft black orbs.
The muscle in the back of his jaw went taut, and he seemed to be engaged in a mental struggle of some sort. His tone was tight, his words grating, when he finally spoke.
“I know grief well.” He swallowed.
His keen, too-intense focus on her made her feel as if she were the only person alive on Earth at that moment.
“May your heart find healing.”
Of all the cards and letters, flowers and prayers she’d received from friends and business acquaintances since losing