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“That’s simple enough,” Curtis said. “The silver mines were a bust.”
“We made money before the mining.”
Curtis took a long drag on his cigarette. “But John took out loans for the equipment. Besides, prices are down and we had two bad winters—lost nearly a third of our herd. It’s no mystery, Denver. Ranchin’ ain’t exactly a bed of roses.”
“So I’ve heard,” Denver mocked.
Curtis squinted through the smoke. “Seven years hasn’t improved your disposition any, has it?”
One of Denver’s dark eyebrows cocked. “Should it have?”
Stubbing out his cigarette, Curtis shook his head. “Probably not. You McLeans are known for your bullheadedness.”
Surprisingly, Denver’s lips twitched. “Unlike you Kramers.”
“Right,” Curtis said, but he chuckled briefly as he pulled his jacket from a hook near the back porch. Squaring his stained hat on his head, he shoved open the back door and headed outside.
“You don’t have to badger him, you know,” Tessa said, keeping her back to Denver’s lounging form.
“I thought he was badgering me.”
“Maybe he was,” Tessa decided. “But you deserved it.” Through the window, she saw her father’s old truck bounce down the lane. Rain ran down the glass, blurring the glow of the taillights. “Dad’s just an old man whose only crime is that he’s given his life to this ranch.”
“And what’s mine, Tessa?” he asked, his voice low.
She turned and caught him staring at her—the same way he’d studied her in the past. His face had lost some of its harsh angles, his expression had softened, and his eyes—Lord, his eyes—had darkened to a seductive midnight blue.
“You left me,” she whispered, her throat suddenly thick. “You left us all—without a word of goodbye.”
He glanced away. “I regret that,” he admitted, shoving a lock of dark hair from his forehead.
“Why, Denver? Why wouldn’t you see me in the hospital?”
His eyes narrowed and the line of his jaw grew taut again. “Because it was over. There was no point.”
“You could have explained it to me.”
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t in tip-top shape,” he said, his words cutting like a dull knife.
“Neither was I! You were in the hospital—I didn’t know if you were going to live or die. My father was being accused of heinous crimes he had no part in, and no one would tell me anything! Good Lord, Denver, can you imagine how I felt?”
The corners of his mouth turned white. “And can you imagine what I was going through?” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “I was told I would never be the same, that I would probably never use my arm again. Both my parents were dead because of the fire, and a woman I trusted had set me up to cover for her old man!”
“No!” Tessa’s eyes widened in horror. “You couldn’t believe—”
“I didn’t know what to believe!” Advancing on her, his eyes boring into her, he said, “I just knew that my entire life had gone to hell!”
He was so close that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, sense the anger simmering within him. “You could have given me a chance to explain before you set yourself up as judge and jury!”
“It was too late for explanations.”
“Maybe it’s never too late.”
He gave a wry smile and some of his anger seemed to melt. Reaching forward, he brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, his fingertips grazing her cheek. “Still the dreamer, aren’t you, Tessa?”
She swallowed hard, fighting a losing battle with the raw energy surging between them. “I—I think I’ve dealt with the past seven years realistically. At least I didn’t run away.”
Sucking in a swift breath, he dropped his hand. His eyes blazed again. “Is that what you think?”
