Digitalis (12 page)

As she dragged her gaze back to the monitor, she sucked in a breath. Another reply:

H
e finally found the girl he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Eight months of recon told him what he’d felt in two seconds—she was the one. But if—no,
when
she found out about the flashbacks, she’d be gone. Colton stabbed the bale of hay with a particularly hard thrust and flung it toward Maverick’s stall.

Don’t even get him started on that feeling at the back of his brain warning him something wasn’t right. Nothing worse than that with zip to substantiate it. He rammed the tongs of the pitchfork into another bale. He tossed it toward Foxy’s enlarged stall, and it hit the iron rail. Her new foal, Hershey, started at the noise and darted around the pen.

“This wouldn’t be about Piper would it?” His father ambled to the tack rack and drew down another pitchfork.

Colton eyed his father. Eyed the way his shirt seemed to hang off his tall, once-muscular frame. Eyed the way he thought he’d help. “Pop, I can handle this.”

“I know,” came the familiar drawl. “But there aren’t many times we can do this together anymore.”

Who was his old man fooling? He wasn’t here to work. Cradling the fork’s handle in the crook of his elbow, Colton removed his hat and wiped the sweat. “Not in a talkin’ mood today, Pop.”

“Then quit your jabberin’, son.” His father worked the bound hay near Maverick’s stall and spread it over the ground.

Nope, that wasn’t going to work. Not this time.

Colton delivered the last two bales to the other stalls. Then he grabbed the shovel and went to mucking Foxy and Hershey’s stall. Satisfied with the job, he grabbed the brush and smoothed it over the honeyed coat of Maverick. The horse swished his tail at Colton. “I know, boy.”

As he wiped down the flank, he couldn’t help but think how much the stallion’s coat looked like Piper’s golden-blond hair. Well, not quite golden, more of a straw color. Nah, that wasn’t right either. Maybe coffeelike, with a little creamer. But soft the way Mickey’s baby skin had been.

“Son!”

He jerked around—and Maverick whisked his tail right into Colton’s face. Flinching, he soothed the horse as he met his father’s eyes. “What?”

“Where’s your mind? I asked you a question.”

Colton waited. Wouldn’t admit he’d been distracted.

“You bringing her to the barbecue?”

Knew it
. “Haven’t decided.”

“Why not?”

“Told you,” he said as he went back to grooming Maverick, “I’m not in a talkin’ mood.”

“She’s not Meredith.”

That yanked Colton around and earned him another smack from the stallion. Aggravated with both his father and the horse, he left the stall and moved farther down the barn. He eased into Foxy’s stall and grinned as Hershey hesitantly came over to inspect him.

His mind flicked back to the night Hershey was born, to the way Piper had thrown herself into his arms. She said her grandfather had raised goats. He’d never known anyone to do that intentionally—raise goats? Was she serious? She was the quirkiest woman he’d ever met. Beautiful, too. But there was something …

“Might wanna move,” his father’s voice—which was all too close—broke into his thoughts.

He glanced back to his father, who now stood leaning on the gate to Firefox’s stall. “Come again?”

“Imagine your leg’s about to get a bit warm.”

Colton looked down just in time to see Hershey take aim to relieve himself.

“Boy, your mind’s doing a lot of talkin’ for ya. Eventually, that’s going to leak out—either through more flashbacks or through your mouth.” His father tilted his brown Cattle Baron from his brow, revealing the clear blue eyes Colton had inherited. “Now, I’d prefer mouth to flashback, but it’s your call.”

Armed with a soft lead, he returned to Hershey. With quiet talk to the foal, he eased the harness over his head. When Colton stalked toward the gate, his father didn’t move. He grinned at the man he was becoming more like every day. “You gonna let me out, or you planning to hog-tie me so I’ll listen to your lecture?”

“Champion rodeo cowboy in my day.” His pop lifted the lead from the tack and entered the stall, where he harnessed Firefox.

Colton ran a hand along Hershey, whose eyes seemed to widen and flit from Colton to his father. “Yes, sir. You don’t let me forget.”

“But you’ve been the most pig-headed and the hardest to wrestle.”

Colton chuckled as his father brought Firefox alongside.

“What’s eating your brain cells?”

“Like you don’t know.”

His father nodded. “Thought so.”

“I—I’m crazy about her ….”

“That’s news to only one person—you.” His father laughed, but then grew serious again. “I feel a mighty big
but
coming on. Let’s have it.”

Colton removed his hat and used his shoulder to swipe away the sweat. “I dread the day she sees me go through a flashback. Or finds out about Emelie. I know it’ll happen, and …” He swallowed hard. “I can’t stand the thought of her thinking less of me.” He fisted a hand. “Who wants a messed-up cowboy?”

“Can’t believe you’re still trying to lay claim to what happened to Em. Being hard on yourself, aren’t you?”

“Not hard enough.” Maybe if he had kept his head together, a lot of heartache could’ve been avoided.

“I might not be the brightest bulb in the pack when it comes to women, but I’m fairly certain Piper likes the man she’s getting to know.”

“I’m a brand of trouble nobody wants.” Colton stretched an arm around Hershey’s chest and the other arm around his bum. “She deserves better. You and Mom didn’t deserve even this.” He glanced at his father over Firefox. “You ready?”

“Yeah—and what
this
are you talking about?”

“Babysitting me! Sticking around because nobody knows when I’ll try to kill someone again because I’m plumb out of my mind.”

“Son—”

“No, don’t, Pop. Not now. Please.” He sloughed a hand over his face. “I’m not going to pretend anymore. Don’t nobody need or want that trouble. I hate this about me—”

“Colton—”

“Hate
it.” Long-suppressed feelings surged to the surface of his carefully held frustration. “Why? Why won’t God heal me? How could He let me take Em over there just to kill her?”

“Well—”

“I pray all the time,
beg
Him to heal those memories, to help me forget—”

“Colton!” His father’s near shout siphoned the strength from his tirade. “Son, quit stewing over what you can’t change.”

The comment knocked him silent. Mad, but silent.

Finally, he said, “Let’s just … get this done.” Using Firefox’s lead, Colton held Hershey in a firm hug hold and led him to the open paddock. His father led Foxy a few paces ahead as incentive to get Hershey to follow. Some people didn’t start them this young, but Colton felt it was wise to get him used to being handled by humans. At the paddock, his dad released Foxy, who trotted around. Colton eased the foal free and closed the gate.

Together, he watched with his father as the foal and dam reconnected, then trotted around.

“Looks to be a strong one,” he said, hoping his dad would abandon the heart-to-heart.

“Firefox is good stock.” His father hooked his arms over the wood fence. “Colton, I want you to stop dragging your sister’s memory into your depression. She did what she wanted to do. Let Emelie go in peace.”

Colton closed his eyes.
I can’t …
.

“And if I know you—and I do—you’re taking two and two and getting five.”

“Always was bad at math,” Colton mumbled.

“Lumping Piper in with what happened to Emelie, and what Meredith did to you, well, it’s just going to leave you crazy. ‘Sides, you’re not giving Piper a fair shot.”

Guilty as charged. “In case you haven’t noticed, Pop, I don’t do real good with women. Only God knows why He gave me a daughter.” He shook his head again as he opened the iron gate to the outer pen and allowed Hershey to dart into the open.

“If you’d just show a girl the same care you give that there foal, I think you’d be off to a good start.”

“Somehow, I doubt Piper would take kindly to being harnessed.”

“What do you mean you can’t give me money?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but your name is on the list.”

“What list?”

The teller darted a nervous glance around the small bank. “The one from OFAC.” He shifted behind the counter.

“Look, I don’t care what list you put my account on, I want my money,
na
—right?” She gulped hard at nearly using the foreign phrase. Tried to keep her voice steady. This couldn’t happen. She needed that money. “I’m talking about my money I placed in this bank—”

“I’m sorry.” He straightened in his chair and took on the appearance of a brick wall. “Your account has been flagged by OFAC.”

Her pulse picked up speed. “What … what is that?”

“The Office of Foreign Assets and Control.” Fingers threaded he looked straight at her. “It’s a government branch that flags accounts with suspicious activity related to terrorism—”

“I’m not a terrorist!” She heard the shriek in her own voice and tried to catch her breath. Foreign Assets? How … how could they know?

“I’m sorry.” Face as stone, he remained unfazed as he handed her a piece of paper. “You can contact this number to rectify the situation.”

Piper tried to swallow against the adrenaline pouring through her veins as she pushed to her feet. That ten thousand dollars was her lifeline, her only means of survival now that she’d turned in her resignation at Hastings. She ran a hand through her hair, panicked. Flashed him a conciliatory smile. “Thank you. I’ll call them.”

Only, she wouldn’t—couldn’t. This was her last stop before she headed out of town. She’d spent the day closing accounts, paying debts, and turning off her cell phone. Now she had no money.

Piper stepped out into the early evening with a heavy heart but alert to her surroundings. Her gaze rose to the dull gray sky … so much like her life. What would she do?

Once she swept the parking lot and convinced herself the white minivan wasn’t filled with Palestinian terrorists, she climbed into her car and locked the doors. The twenty dollars in her purse wouldn’t fund another night at the hotel. She’d stayed at the Grand Inn last night, too afraid to return to her apartment and find men waiting to drag her back … to pry answers from her unwilling lips.

She shuddered at the same time her stomach gurgled. Too bad. Until she had more money in hand, she wasn’t going to squander her last bill when she could easily go a while longer without food. For now, the priority was finding a place to stay.

Her mind drifted to a handsome cowboy and a pair of blue eyes that made her warm and happy inside.

Absolutely not
. Completely out of the question for two reasons. One, she’d have to tell him the truth or lie through her teeth. She wasn’t going to do either. She’d gotten this far on half truths and knew exactly what her father would say about that:
A half-truth is a whole lie
. And two, if she was followed back to the Neeley ranch, those intent on getting to the truth would use Colton and his family as a means to extract the information from her.

Trapped. Stranded. Alone.

Piper dug her fingers into her hair and screamed behind squeezed lips. Why? Why must it be this way? She just wanted some hope that the insanity that had stolen her life would end, that her father would be saved, and that she would have a chance at a happy life.

A familiar melody dropped into her mind—the
Hatikva
. Hope infused her to the very bones. The national anthem of Israel spoke of hope. Was that a sign, a message that things would turn out okay?

Yeah. Right.

The ache burned raw and hot. Every good thing in her life had been crushed or stolen. She banged the back of her head against the head rest. How could she be so idiotic as to think she could fall in love with Colton and have a happy life? Things didn’t work that way for her. Her mother and baby brother died. Then Bazak. When Dodie left her, the only family member she had left was their father … who also stepped out of her life. Yes, for her own safety, for his safety, for the safety of a nation, but that still left her alone. Utterly alone.