To Protect His Own. Brenda Mott

turned her back on her mother and, with the aid of her cane, headed slowly toward the sweeping staircase and her room.

      By Friday afternoon, her things were gathered and she was ready to go.

      “Is this it, Cate?” Dillon hefted a box of kitchen goods into his arms. At twenty-six, with coal-black hair and the Kramer blue eyes, he attracted his share of women out on the show circuit. He kept extremely busy, riding, training, showing—their father’s right hand in the running of Foxwood Farms. But he’d always made plenty of time for his little sister.

      “That should do it.” Caitlin felt an exuberance she hadn’t known lately as they headed outside. The mid-September heat engulfed her as she headed for her new pickup truck. New to her, anyway.

      Her father had offered to buy her a fully loaded, top-of-the-line, dually pickup straight off the showroom floor, but spending that much money on a pickup was foolish. She’d seen the candy-apple-red, ’79 Chevy parked at the local lot, owned by a reputable dealer. Something about the way the truck had obviously been lovingly cared for appealed to her.

      Caitlin tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She couldn’t drive yet. Her ability to perceive distances correctly had been compromised by her head injury. As had her ability to judge the weight of an object. Her brain was left with no way to know how hard to flex her muscles. Without proper balance coordination, her brain initially couldn’t even communicate the simple act of moving a finger, and it had taken intense concentration and physical therapy to begin to overcome these obstacles.

      The Chevy had an automatic transmission. No clutch for her weakened left side. She hoped to be driving within the next month, at least around the ranch.

      “You be careful,” Evelyn said, giving her daughter a warm peck on the cheek.

      Gran hovered over her, fussing with Caitlin’s hair, touching her as though she might crumble into dust and blow away on the wind. “Keep that cell phone clipped to your belt, you hear?” She pointed a stern finger. “I know how you’re always misplacing it.”

      “I hear you, Gran.” Caitlin smiled and shook her head. “I’ll be fine, really. Shauna will be checking in on me, too.” Her best friend since fifth grade, Shauna had stuck faithfully by her side ever since the accident, even when she’d tried to push her away. Caitlin kissed her mother and grandmother on the cheek. “I love you both, even if you are a couple of worrywarts.”

      Evelyn graced her with a good-natured frown. “That’s fine. You go on and think that way. We’ll see how you feel when you’re a mother one day.”

      But she didn’t plan…never had planned…on being a mother. Caitlin herself had been raised by a series of nannies. Evelyn had never been the sort of nurturing mom she now suddenly wanted to be in lieu of Caitlin’s accident. Except on the horse show circuit.

      Caitlin slid into the pickup, settling her cane against the floorboard. No. She’d never be a mother. She couldn’t really relate to Evelyn on a maternal level, and couldn’t transfer the concept to herself. Besides, she’d always looked forward to a career as an equestrian with a future in the field of animal science.

      What she hadn’t planned on was the crash.

      Facing forward in the seat, Caitlin looked at the windshield as Dillon drove through the gate and onto the county road. From there, they took a narrow dirt road to her new home. Caitlin noticed that the house on the old Bagley property across the road—a modest, two-story, pale yellow frame—no longer looked deserted…the For Sale sign gone. Curtains hung at the windows, chairs sat on the porch, and a blue Ford Ranger was parked out front.

      Huh. She hadn’t counted on neighbors, but it shouldn’t be a problem. In addition to the narrow road, enough space divided their yard from hers to give her plenty of privacy. Plus, a small area of her backyard was fenced off.

      “Here we are,” Dillon announced unnecessarily. He shot her the grin that made women swoon. “For what it’s worth, Cate, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

      “Thanks.” His support didn’t take her by surprise, since he’d always been there for her, yet still, it choked her up.

      “But that doesn’t mean I won’t be keeping a close eye on you,” he added. Dillon lived on his own horse ranch a few miles from Foxwood Farms, dividing his time between both places.

      “Yeah, yeah.” Caitlin grinned back at him as he turned off the ignition. But her grin turned to a frown as she opened the truck door and heard a familiar sound. A whinny, and not just any horse. Caitlin froze in her seat, staring at the four-stall barn and adjoining paddock behind the house. Silver Fox trotted back and forth along the fence, then stopped and hung his dapple-gray head over the rail. Ears perked, he stared at her with soft brown eyes, as though asking why he’d been moved from his familiar surroundings with the other horses. “What is Silver Fox doing here?”

      Dillon’s smile slipped. “What, you’re not happy to see him? I thought he might cheer you up.”

      Caitlin set her jaw. “Take him back to the stables.”

      “Caitlin…”

      “I mean it, Dillon.” She got out of the truck and slammed the door, stumbling as she fumbled with her cane. “Dad’s going to bring Spike over later once I’m settled in. He’s all the company I’ll need.” The two-year-old Jack Russell terrier had been hers since he was a pup, and his vigorous devotion and enthusiasm helped raise Caitlin’s spirits.

      “Come on, don’t be that way.”

      “What way?” She whirled to face her brother, the motion making her dizzy. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. “How could you do this to me?”

      Dillon’s mouth gaped. “Do what? I was only trying to make you feel at home by bringing your horse over.”

      “Well, I don’t want him here.” She clumped up the walkway, tripping on an exposed rock.

      Instantly, Dillon was at her side, catching her by the elbow. “Careful.” He glowered at her. “Maybe you’re not ready for this after all.”

      “Would you stop treating me like an invalid!” Caitlin jerked out of his grasp. “I don’t need everyone hovering over me, I don’t need your help walking up to the damned door and I sure as hell don’t need Silver Fox reminding me of everything I’ll never have again!”

      “Caitlin, wait.”

      But she ignored him, moving toward the house with determination.

      THE SOUND of raised voices floated to Alex on the clear mountain air as he stepped outside. He paused in the middle of lifting another sack of groceries out of the truck to listen. Odd. He’d been under the impression no one lived in the white-frame farmhouse. It was why he’d purchased the property across from it. Privacy for him and Hallie. He frowned at the sight of a tall man arguing with a woman who had her back to Alex. She walked with a cane and, as he watched, stumbled and nearly fell. The man took hold of her arm, and the two continued to argue heatedly before she turned and walked away.

      Alex hesitated. It wasn’t any of his business. But even though he’d moved Hallie away from Aurora knowing the crime rate in Deer Creek would likely be low, he wasn’t naive enough to believe that domestic violence didn’t happen everywhere. Setting the bag of groceries back in the truck, he crossed the dirt road dividing the properties.

      “Is there a problem here?” he asked gruffly as he drew close to the couple.

      When the woman stopped and faced him, recognition hit him hard. It was her, the dark-haired, sapphire-eyed beauty he’d seen at Pearl’s Diner a few weeks ago. The woman Hallie had insisted was Caitlin Kramer. She was no longer in a wheelchair. He would’ve smiled if the situation at hand hadn’t been so serious.

      “No, there’s no problem.” The man frowned at him. His jet-black hair and row of even teeth said pretty boy. His khaki slacks and polo shirt screamed money, as did his haughty