“I’ll get these horses to the pasture by the barn. There’s water there. I’ll get halters on them and lead them back, and you drive the pickup. You can follow the road here to the house,” he said. “If there are any horses we can’t move, we’ll try to take care of them here.”
It was almost an hour later when they climbed back into his pickup and drove toward the house.
“I came home every year for the first three years while I was in college, and it was never like this. Things were messy at the house, but otherwise, he kept things in relatively good shape.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “We had some good hands and a good foreman. I never stayed more than a night or two, so he must have pulled himself together.
“Several years ago at Christmas, I sent a plane for him and brought him to California. He said everything here was fine. He couldn’t wait to get back here and cut short his stay. Gradually, we’ve grown more apart than ever, and I haven’t been home. If I did make contact with him, he always said everything was going okay.” Luke worked his jaw back and forth. “I should have kept up with him better and maybe I could have prevented some of this. I could have hired someone to come out here and run the ranch.”
“You didn’t know.”
“I should’ve known. He always could carry on a decent conversation when he was dead drunk. I should have guessed what was going on.”
“Luke, I’m sorry. This is a disaster.”
“We’ll just have to hunt for the animals. I doubt if there are any cattle left. I’m sure they’ve all been stolen. The horses probably were passed over at first for cattle. By the time anyone turned attention to the horses, they may have been in such bad shape no one wanted them. I just barely glanced at the house, but I’ll walk through in case there are any animals in it.”
Scarlett cringed when the house came into view. One wall was shattered, as if someone had tried to drive through it. Windows were smashed. Steps to the porch had collapsed. The front door was missing. Bullet holes dotted the walls, and boards had been ripped from the porch floor. Someone had thrown black paint at the house, and a big splash of paint had spilled down a wall. A living room chair was upside down in the yard, one leg broken, another leg missing.
“Oh, my heavens, Luke...” she commiserated softly. Certainly it gutted him to look at his childhood home so badly damaged.
“While neglect did a lot to the house and barn and outbuildings, vandals and thieves caused the rest,” he said grimly. “My dad, because of his damned drinking, has just let our home—a damn fine ranch—go to hell.”
Knowing how she would feel if it had been her home, she ached for him. “I’m sorry, Luke. How awful for you to come home to this.” Impulsively, she squeezed his wrist and Luke turned, his blue-green eyes intent on her, causing a chemical reaction. The minute she touched him, the moment changed. Sympathy vanished, replaced by sizzling desire. But she didn’t want to be swept off her feet by him again. She’d been through too much heartache because of Luke to go through more.
When his gaze locked with hers, she drew a deep breath, conscious of Luke and nothing else. Worse, she was absolutely certain he felt something, too.
“I’m sorry for you, and I’m sorry for your dad. Have you seen him yet?” she asked, her words tumbling out too fast as she tried to get back to anything less intimate. But that slight touch of his wrist brought a truckload of memories pouring over her, and she felt her anger with Luke lose a bit of its intensity.
She felt sympathy for him. It would be devastating if she came home to find the McKittrick ranch in ruin. She tried to pay attention to what he was saying about seeing his dad.
“No, that’s on my list of things to do while I’m here. What he’s done—or more accurately, not done—is going to make seeing him again even more difficult than I expected. He must be in terrible shape to let all this happen.”
“Well, let’s look for the horses or whatever livestock that’s still here,” she said, struggling to get back to business.
He nodded. “I stopped here briefly before coming to get you. I want the house torn down. I can’t stand to see it in ruin. The memories from there weren’t all that great anyway,” he said, and her heart lurched at the bitterness in his voice. She curbed the impulse to reach out and squeeze his wrist again. It was obvious he hurt badly.
“There’s a half bath in the barn, so at least we have a little in the way of facilities for us. There may be running water and electricity in the bathrooms in the house. Right now, however, we better find what animals we can while it’s daylight. I’ll try to get them back to the pasture by the barn, where you can do what you have to do and I can feed and water them. Can you stay longer?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ll stay. I want to save as many horses as I can,” she said.
“We’ll take the pickup now. Later, I’ll probably have to search on horseback because there are places on the ranch where I can’t drive. I may have to go buy a horse because none of these can carry me on its back.” He released a breath. “But for now, I’ve got rope in the back of the truck, some feed and a saddle if I need it, all sorts of supplies.”
“All right,” he said, “let’s get started.” He turned his truck and as he drove she looked for any livestock. They hadn’t driven a half mile when she gasped. “Luke, stop. There’s an animal. It’s a dog, and it’s dead. I think it looks like it might be Mutt.” With a pang, she remembered the dog that followed Luke around when he was home.
They got out of the pickup and walked closer. Luke knelt and ran his hand over the dog’s head. “Oh, dammit to hell. That’s Mutt. He was old and weak, and I guess coyotes got him.”
She knelt to look over the carcass more closely, and she hurt even more for Luke because this was the ranch dog that he claimed as his.
“I left him here when I went to California because the ranch was up and running and in good shape,” he said, his voice raspy with regret.
“The ranch was in good shape because you were here,” she said quietly, still looking at the dog.
“The guys liked him and he was happy here. I thought he’d be better off. He looks starved. He was old and weak, but something’s really torn him up.”
“Luke, he’s been shot. Someone shot him, and they may have done it because he was old and he may have been sick. There’s one shot and it’s a killing shot, so this wasn’t random or someone being mean. I think he was torn up by buzzards and coyotes after he was shot.”
Luke leaned closer to look as she pointed to the wound. “I hope he didn’t suffer. I loved the old mutt. He was a good dog.” He released a shaky breath. “I’m going to bury him. I have a shovel, and I’ll wrap him in a tarp and bury him back at the house.”
She heard the catch in Luke’s voice, and a lump rose to her own throat. They both stood, and she looked up at him. Without thinking about it, she touched his wrist again. “I’m sorry. I know you loved him.” The minute her hand rested on his, she knew she shouldn’t have touched him, even though it was obvious he was hurting badly. His wrist was twice the size of hers, warm, his wrist bone hard. Something flickered in the depths of his eyes, and he gazed at her intently.
“I haven’t loved much in my life, but I loved him,” he said roughly, his voice grating and a muscle working in his jaw. She couldn’t get her breath, and she couldn’t understand the intensity of his gaze or his remark that he hadn’t loved much in his life. Was he just talking about a dog—or was there more to his statement?
She wanted his arms around her so badly it frightened her, and she stepped away quickly, going back to the truck. “Tell me if I can help,” she called over her shoulder.
She was breathing