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The warm water eased the tension from her stiff muscles and lulled her into a sense of security. If Blake had the audacity to try and claim Cody now, he’d have the surprise of his life. Long ago Dani had shed her mousy personality in favor of that of a new independent woman. No one, not even Blake Summers, would take her son away from her; just as she wouldn’t allow anyone to steal her land. And whether Chase McEnroe knew it or not, that’s exactly what Caleb Johnson had tried to do over the past few years. He’d offered to buy her out far below the market value and then he’d tried to say that she’d swindled him on the sale of the Summers’ place. Yep, Caleb Johnson was as crooked as a dog’s hind leg, and he wanted her land; the land her grandparents had worked to save in the Depression, the land her ancestors had cleared and farmed with the strength of their backs and the sweat of their brow.
And maybe you’re being a fool, she thought as she squeezed the rag over her shoulders and let the hot water drip down her back. Maybe you should just sell the place and live comfortably for the rest of your life.
“Never,” she whispered to herself. “At least not to Johnson.”
She smiled to herself with renewed determination and settled lower in the tub.
* * *
Chase stared at the lights in the cabin windows long after he’d seen Dani go inside. The first heavy drops of rain had begun to fall and he was still deciding whether or not to confront her again. It had been nearly a week since she’d thrown him out of her home. For six days he’d respected her wishes and kept away from her, but watching her work in the fields, her lithe body handling machinery and heavy bales of hay that would have strained the muscles of a man twice her size, gave him second thoughts.
“You’re a fool,” he chastised, but ignored his own warning and slipped through the barbed wires before climbing the short hill toward the cluster of buildings on the small rise.
The rain had begun in earnest. Large drops slid down his face as thunder rumbled in the mountains. He picked up his pace and ran the last hundred yards to the shelter of the barn before shaking the water from his hair and striding to the back porch.
Dani was already there, sitting in an old rocker near the door and wearing only her bathrobe.
“Dani?” Chase called, hoping not to startle her.
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sight of him. “What’re you doing here?” she asked, recognizing his voice before being able to discern his craggy features.
“Escaping the storm.”
Leaning back in the rocker, she narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “So why didn’t you escape to Caleb Johnson’s house?”
“Too far away.” He walked up the two steps to the porch and rested one hip against the rail as he looked at her. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you again.”
“I thought we settled everything last time.”
“Not really.” He leaned against the post supporting the roof of the porch, folded his arms over his chest and stared down at her with shaded eyes. The rain had turned his blond hair brown and dampened the shoulders and back of his shirt. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. The last time I was here you insinuated that Caleb tried to steal your land.”
“It wasn’t an insinuation.”
“Fact?”
Dani hedged. “Not exactly . . .”
“Then what happened?”
A simple question. And one of public record. Then why did she hesitate to tell him? “Why don’t you ask Johnson?”
“He put me off, just like you. Right now he’s out of town.”
“For how long?”
“A few more days.”
Dani’s teeth clamped together. She still hadn’t had it out with Caleb.
“Look, I’d just like to know what’s going on between the two of you because, whether I like it or not, I’ve been put right smack dab in the middle of your . . . disagreement.”
“Disagreement?” she repeated, smiling at the understatement.
“For lack of a better word.”
Drumming her fingers on the edge of the rocker, she looked across the sloping land and listened to the heavy raindrops pound against the roof and run in the gutters. “It’s no secret really,” she said, turning to face him again. “About two years ago, Caleb Johnson tried to take me to court. He insisted that the land my great-great-grandfather had homesteaded—this place—wasn’t staked out properly, and according to his survey, I was actually living on what is now his property.”
“That should have been easy enough to prove.”
