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If she turned down his proposal, then he’d make plans to go after Schuyler as soon as the remodeling was complete. His scheme for vengeance against the terrorist was progressing beautifully. Zane’s first line of attack had been against Schuyler’s finances. He wanted to hurt him where it would affect him most, and since Schuyler assumed Zane was dead, he hadn’t a clue how it was happening. If by chance Lesley did agree to marry him, then Zane would hold off on his revenge until after he was certain Lesley was pregnant.
Arabesque’s sleek neck appeared over the stall door when Zane entered the barn. He reached inside his pocket for a sugar cube and fed it to him while he gently spoke to the gelding.
Carl, who was breaking up a bale of hay with a pitchfork, glanced up from the other end of the barn. “Howdy,” he called, looking pleased with himself.
“You seem to be in a chipper mood.”
“I am,” Carl returned.
“Any particular reason?”
His friend leaned against the pitchfork and Zane swore Carl wore a grin as wide the Mississippi River. “I’ve got an important dinner date coming up.”
Zane assumed it had something to do with the property Carl had mentioned purchasing not long ago.
His friend returned to the task at hand, whistling as he pitched hay.
It didn’t take Zane long to saddle Arabesque. The gelding was in the mood for a run. Generally he held him back, but not this afternoon.
After a brisk workout, Zane looked longingly toward the beach. The path down was a series of steep switchbacks that demanded all his skill as a rider. Because of the time and attention it entailed, Zane rarely rode Arabesque on the shore.
He was three-quarters of the way down the steep hillside when he heard voices. His view was blocked by a large boulder, but he didn’t need to see the trespassers to know that they were there.
Being careful not to attract their attention, Zane painstakingly wound his way farther down the hillside. As he neared the rock, he was more able to make out the words.
“What if we get caught?”
“He never comes down this way. He’s not going to catch us.”
Whoever it was didn’t sound to be more than nine or ten. Boys, Zane decided, looking to make trouble.
“He’d kill us if he ever found us.”
“No, he wouldn’t.”
“He’s been in prison. I heard my mom talking with Mrs. Wilson and she said he got those scars in a fight while in a federal penitentiary. She said he was up for murder.”
“Murder,” the other two repeated.
Murder.This was news to Zane. He knew that the locals thought him a monster, but this was the first time he’d heard he was fresh from the slammer.
“I bet he escaped and that the law’s looking for him.”
“Yeah.”
Zane couldn’t resist it any longer. With Arabesque’s head held high, tail swishing, Zane led his gelding from behind the huge rock.
Three boys stared up at him, their eyes wide with fear, their mouths gaping open. “This is private property,” Zane announced in his sternest voice. “I suggest you leave before I decide to press charges and have you thrown in jail.”
Two took off running so fast, their shoes kicked up small rocks. The third boy, the smallest, scampered up the hill. His foot hit a loose rock and he lost his footing. With what must have been a shot of frantic fear mingled with alarm, the lad rolled down the rocky landscape and landed no more than a few feet from Arabesque’s prancing hoofs.
The wind seemed to have been knocked out of him because he doubled up and didn’t seem to be able to breathe.
Zane climbed down off his gelding and knelt down beside the boy. “Take small breaths,” he advised calmly. “And don’t panic. The pain will pass in a moment.” He removed his own jacket and tucked it under the boy’s small head.
“It’s gonna hurt bad, but it won’t last long.”
The boy’s chest heaved and he panted. His eyes were incredibly round as he stared up at Zane.
