Almost Home (4 page)
"You coming, Zach?" Billy asked.
"No. Sam will be back for me."
"You sure?" He tipped his head toward the
truck. "I think she likes you."
"That woman is trouble with a capital
T."
"Like I said, just your type. By the way, great
race on Sunday. Rogue surprised a lot of people. If he hadn't stumbled out of
the gate, who knows what would have happened? Of course, J.T. said Enrique gave
Rogue the rail when he should have kept him outside."
"Nobody gives Rogue anything. He takes what he
needs."
Zach was glad to change the conversation to horses. He
was only too happy to be reminded that Rogue was his first, last, and only
priority.
"Can Rogue take the
"Maybe," Zach said, deliberately casual. He
didn't give a damn what people thought now, only what they'd think after the
first Saturday in May.
Billy nodded. "I figure he'll be a long shot, but
might be worth a few bucks."
Zach shrugged. "Do what you want."
Billy tipped his head toward the woman sitting in his
front seat. "Think she'd go out with me?"
"Now, I'd say that's a real long shot." Zach
watched as Billy hopped into the truck and took off down the highway. He didn't
think Billy Dawson had even the remotest chance of getting a date with
Katherine Whitfield. He was far too young. She was more interested in the
fifty-year-old generation.
The thought of Katherine nosing around
actually somewhat amusing. It was about time someone else caused a scandal, and
Zach sure wouldn't mind seeing one of the good old boys caught with his pants
down, even if it was twenty something years after the fact. His mind whirled
with likely candidates. Maybe he shouldn't have encouraged her to go back to
fireworks right before the
turned out to be someone in the racing world, someone with a horse, someone
with an agenda, someone with little to gain and a lot to lose.
Zach set off down the highway, preferring to walk
rather than wait. He could think of two or three good men to play the role of
Katherine's long-lost father. And two or three wives who'd probably hang them
for it. Not that anyone in
willingly admit to such a devastating secret, not in a valley where breeding
the purest of bloodlines wasn't just a hobby but an obsession. A bastard
daughter wasn't going to please anyone. He just hoped Katherine was prepared.
She might be willing to walk out on the high wire, but he had a feeling she had
no idea how far she might fall.
* * *
Brooks, Perderson, Stanton,
Malloy. Katherine ran her finger down the list of
names. Upon her arrival at the one and only hotel in
she'd discovered a directory of horse farms in the downstairs gift shop and
figured it was as good a place as any to start her search.
The three biggest farms in the area appeared to be
owned by the Brookses, the Pedersons, and the Stantons, which didn't make any
difference to her, except that the S logo next to
she'd nearly crashed into a few hours earlier.
Maybe Zach Tyler worked for Stanton Farms. That might
be helpful. Meanwhile she ran down the list of names again, noting how many of
the owners' first names started with the letter
J.
She began to wonder
if there was some law in this small town to name every available male Jim,
John, Jeff, Joseph, Jerry, or Jack. She'd never suspected that there were so
many names starting with a
J.
Her quest suddenly seemed impossibly daunting. Maybe
Zach Tyler was right. Maybe she should go home and forget all about this crazy
idea of finding her father. But the items in the chest and the questions they
posed had become a part of her life. And she felt tied to them, as if they were
the only things that made sense to her.
Katherine closed the directory and stood up. Her hotel
room was on the small side but comfortable with a red and black feather
bedspread on the full bed and some charming country knick-knacks on the
matching bedside tables. There was an overstuffed red armchair in one corner of
the room, with lacy doilies on the sleeves, and a television set hidden inside
a large oak armoire.
It wasn't sophisticated by any stretch of the
imagination but it was warm and cozy, and Katherine felt more at home here than
she'd ever felt in her stepfather's mansion in
Walking across the room, she knelt down next to the
chest. Slipping her fingers under the latch, she lifted the lid and pulled out
a corner of the quilt. She pressed it to her face and inhaled the sweet scent
of lavender. Katherine couldn't imagine how the scent could be so strong after
so many years.
She took a deep breath, the luscious perfume teasing
her with a memory she couldn't quite grasp, a voice she could almost hear, a
picture she could almost see. She knew she'd smelled the lavender before, but
she couldn't remember where.
Closing her eyes, she willed herself to find the
memory buried deep in her subconscious, but no image came to mind, only the
smell of lavender, the faint sound of music, classical perhaps, and soft notes
that matched a gentle laugh.
"Mom," she whispered. "Is that you?"
Her mother's face came to life in Katherine's mind.
She could see Evelyn's light brown hair and the clear blue eyes that always
seemed to hold a glimmer of sadness. They were looking at her now, warning her
to be careful, yet encouraging her to go forward. Or maybe she was imagining
the whole thing, her own mind reflecting ambivalence, confusion.
Why hadn't her mother told her about her father? Why
the big secret? What had she been trying to hide? Whom had she been trying to
protect?
Katherine opened her eyes with a sigh, wishing for the
impossible, one last conversation with her mother. There were so many things
she wanted to ask her.
Why didn't you send the letter? Why did you hide the
chest in the attic? Why did you marry Mitchell anyway? Was it to give me a
father? To make me stop asking questions about my real father?
Katherine ran a finger around the corner square of the
quilt, studying the design with desperation, wondering if she would somehow
find the answers to her questions in the material. A border of lilies wound its
way around the outside squares of the quilt. The inside squares were a
hodgepodge of different materials, some patterned, some plain, some silk, some
linen, notes and dates and names that meant nothing to Katherine, at least not
yet. But it was early. And she'd only just arrived in
Pushing the quilt back into the chest, Katherine stood
up and walked to the window. Her room faced
six blocks in both directions.
exactly a thriving metropolis. From her vantage point she could see a
drugstore, beauty parlor, stationery store, bank, post office, a couple of
restaurants, and a craft shop.
Her gaze lingered on the knitting needles etched on
the sign hanging over the door across the street. It might be a good place to
ask about her quilt. Tomorrow, she decided. She'd go there first thing. But
tonight—tonight she was going to Golden's.
The bar and grill was located on a side street a few
blocks away. Billy Dawson had pointed it out to her when they'd dropped her car
off at the garage. She'd told herself she'd go once she got checked in, once
she got settled, but here it was almost
at night, and she still hadn't made a move.
"Coward," she said out loud. "Chicken."
Unfortunately, not even self-inflicted insults could
get her out the door. She didn't feel ready yet. Because she was afraid, her
conscience repeated wearily, as if she were also a dimwit. Maybe she was a
dimwit, tilting at windmills like Don Quixote on his impossible quest.
Katherine flung herself down on the bed and stared up
at the ceiling. She probably wouldn't have moved for another hour if someone
hadn't knocked at her door.
A sudden irrational thought that it might be Zach
Tyler ran through her mind, sending her off the bed faster than any lecture
from her conscience. Not that she wanted to see him again, she told herself
firmly, taking a quick look in the mirror on her way to the door. He'd been
rude, cocky, and definitely unsupportive.
Still, she couldn't help the tingle that ran down her
spine at the thought of him. His image was indelibly printed on her brain; his
dark eyes, rugged face, and his hands. She'd never felt such strength in a man's
hands, such power, such anger, such control. She had a feeling he could be
incredibly rough. She had a feeling he could be incredibly gentle. Her stomach
turned over at the thought of his hands on her.
Shaking that distracting thought out of her head, she
moved to the door and said, "Who is it?"
"Maggie Harper. I have some towels for you."
Her heart fell to the floor. "Fool," she
muttered to herself as she opened the door.
A young woman stood in the hallway holding a stack of
puffy blue towels. With her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail and bright
green eyes that showed barely a hint of life experience, she looked to be about
nineteen.
"Hi, I'm Maggie Harper," she said with a pop
of her chewing gum and a great big smile.
"Hello," Katherine said, not sure what to
do. She'd never had a maid introduce herself before.
"My mama and papa own this hotel, Caroline and
Sean Harper. I'm their only daughter, the front desk clerk, the maid, and their
slave seven days a week," Maggie said.
Katherine smiled back at her. "You're
multitalented then."
"Oh, you wouldn't believe how many talents I have
and how little I'm paid for them."
"I'm Katherine Whitfield."
"Sure. I saw your name in the register. Can I put
these towels in the bathroom for you?"
"The other ones aren't dirty."
"Oh, that's all right. We change 'em every
evening no matter what," Maggie said, strolling into the room. "I
hear you had a run-in with Zach Tyler today."
Katherine had the feeling she knew why she was getting
clean towels. "I had a little accident with my car."
Maggie paused at the bathroom door. "He's
trouble, you know."
"I didn't know."
"Well, I guess you wouldn't, seeing as how you're
a stranger and all. But he don't come from good stock. As mama says, apples
never fall far from the tree."
Katherine had no idea how to reply. She doubted Zach
would be happy to know the hotel maid was giving her the rundown on his family
history.
Maggie disappeared into the bathroom, only to reappear
a few seconds later with the old towels heaped in her arms. "He's awful
cute, though," she said with a yearning youthful sigh. "Not that he
spends much time in town since
"
"His fiancée. Left him standing at the altar with
his rented tuxedo and a church full of people."
Katherine couldn't believe what she was hearing, and
although she didn't normally gossip, she found it impossible not to ask one
more question. "How did he take it?"
"Didn't even blink. Thanked the minister for
coming and walked out."
That sounded like the silent man she'd met earlier.
"Most folks thought Zach deserved what he got.
After all, his old man stole half the town's money some years back, and a lot
of people thought Zach helped him do it. Not that there was any real proof of
anything. It was one of those swindles that leaves everyone shaking their head.
I was a kid at the time, but I remember all the hoopla.
not from around here, but I guess she found out about Zach before it was too
late."
Katherine cleared her throat, not sure why she was
feeling sorry for Zach. She didn't know the man at all, and from everything
Maggie said, he wasn't going to win any awards for honesty, integrity, or
general human kindness. Still, she couldn't forget that he'd stayed with her on
the highway and helped her with her car when she was the one to blame for
landing it in a ditch in the first place. Those hardly seemed the actions of a
horrible man.
"I have to go out," Katherine said abruptly,
feeling guilty for having listened to Maggie. She'd make her own decisions
about Zach if and when she ever saw him again. "Maybe we can talk another
time."
"Oh, sure," Maggie said with a cheerful nod.
"I'll be cleaning your room every day. How long are you staying?"