The Gentrys: Abby Read online

  He grinned at her. "Now, how much do you know about Gray Wolf Parker? What has he told you about himself?"

  Abby felt irritated and uncomfortable at Cinco's words. She didn't need to know anything about Gray's background that she didn't already know. After all, they were nearly strangers and not really engaged. He'd been her hero once a long time ago, and now he lived on the ranch next door.

  And Gray had been decent enough to bail her and her nosy brother out of their current mess. Didn't that mean more than anything else? What a person said and how they behaved was so much more important than what they might've done in the past.

  Besides, she and Gray hadn't had a chance to talk about their pasts or to even become friends yet. But she didn't think she'd better mention that to Cinco.

  "Uh, not much that's particularly important," she mumbled as an answer to Cinco's question.

  "Just as I thought. You fell in love with who he seems to be, not who he really is."

  "No! I didn't…" Abby halted in midsentence, reminding herself just in time not to tell Cinco that she hadn't fallen in love with Gray Parker. "I mean … I know him well enough. We plan to spend a long time getting to know each other before we get married," she lied.

  "Listen, sugar. I'm not trying to tell you that you've made a mistake. In fact, I'm real pleased about you and Gray. When you first found him in that dry wash and saved his life, I made a point of finding out a little bit about him. Then last night after the party and your offhanded announcement, I did some more digging. I now know quite a bit about Gray Wolf Parker and his background."

  Abby could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Cinco had investigated Gray?

  "Now don't go getting that injured-party look in your eyes, missy," Cinco soothed. "I did it for your safety. You forget that you are a very rich young woman. It wouldn't be too hard to imagine that a man could want to marry you to get his hands on Gentry Ranch."

  Of all the nerve. Her brother was asking for it. She ripped her hand from his and balled her fists.

  "I can take care of myself, bubba," she said through gritted teeth.

  "I know. I know. You're a real tough guy," Cinco chuckled. "But even you have to admit, you're not too experienced in the love department. Think of me as your guardian angel. I'm just around to watch your back, that's all."

  Speechless, Abby slouched in her chair. There was nothing she could say to that. Nothing she could possibly tell Cinco that would stop him from blabbing everything he'd found out about Gray. She sighed in resignation and waited.

  "I'll bet you didn't know that your fiancé has an MBA degree, did you? Or that up until a year ago he was in training and high on the list of potential candidates for leader of the national Comanche tribal council?"

  Abby shook her head and stayed quiet. This had suddenly become worth paying attention to.

  "Didn't think so," Cinco gloated. "Well, seems like your boyfriend comes from a long line of chieftains and tribal elders. Sort of like royalty, you might say."

  Now that she thought of it, Gray had said something about his grandfather and his mother wanting him to be an elder. "Do you know what kind of training he'd have to go through to be on this tribal council thing?" she asked.

  "Not entirely," Cinco told her. "One of my buddies on the Internet said that these days the tribal council is mostly administrative. So I'd suppose Gray's business degree would come in handy for that. But apparently there's more to it.

  "I dug up a little information that seemed to indicate there were 'tests' or trials to become a chief these days. I read that a man needs to be fluent in the language, know how to hunt without a gun and be fully aware of the tribe's history and religion … just to be considered."

  "But then why's he here … living on the Skaggs Ranch, of all places?" she asked her brother.

  Cinco shrugged a shoulder. "I'd say that would be a good question for you to ask him. All I know is that when his mother died last year, Gray came back to Texas, to the Skaggs Ranch, and he's been here ever since."

  Cinco smiled at her with a kind of misty, sentimental look in his eyes. "And to be honest, I'd surely like to hear the answer to your question myself, honey. I don't want to think about the possibility of you two leaving Gentry Ranch after you marry. But I would imagine a wife should want to go wherever her husband's life took them … even if that meant leaving Texas to live near the tribal complex in Oklahoma."

  A dark cloud suddenly closed over the bright-blue West Texas sky. Abby felt a chill. Despite the fact that her brother was talking like some stupid macho chauvinist, and despite the fact that she and Gray had no real relationship, Cinco's words had given her a lot to think about.

  Gray guided Thunder Cloud through the morning mist, following closely behind Abby on her gelding. A couple of days into their phony engagement and this was the first opportunity for them to actually spend some time together.

  The tough little heiress had become a royal pain in the butt this morning, too. Spouting orders and making demands, she'd led them onto the Gentry Ranch's range-land to finish small chores today before the spring roundup began in earnest tomorrow. It was all Gray could do to keep his mouth shut and follow her lead. He owed her. That particular chant had become a close companion lately, he'd noticed.

  He and Abby had decided to spend most of their days on Gentry Ranch because there was so much more that needed to be done there than on the Skaggs Ranch. Gray could see to the mustang herd on Skaggs land during spare moments. After all, his stepfather ought to do a few things to earn his share of their stud fees. All Gray really needed to do was to make sure the ponies were thriving and well taken care of.

  As the two riders climbed out of a low-lying and narrow valley, the sun began to burn through the remains of the predawn fog. Gray watched Abby riding ahead of him up the small incline. He could see her clearly now in the early, gray light.

  She had a good seat, riding with her head high and legs barely touching the horse's flanks. He wondered how she'd look on the back of a mustang, riding free in the wind—as all riding should be.

  He'd bide his time before suggesting that she change her ways, though. She wanted to be the boss of her world. But just give him some time, he'd convince her he knew what was best in this environment. Before the arrangement they'd gotten themselves into was over, he'd give her a real appreciation for his world.

  Abby slowed her horse and pulled up next to an empty stock tank that was supposed to be fed by a nearby windmill. As she dismounted, Gray watched her lithe body go through the motions of jumping off her horse to the ground. Strength and agility showed in her every movement. He was enthralled by the pure beauty of woman.

  "Well," she began while she untied the bundle of tools from her horse's saddlebags. "You planning on helping with the work? Or are you just going to stay astride your horse with that stoic and bored expression on your face?"

  Gray slid to the ground. "I'll help."

  It took a few minutes for Abby to open the gear box on the windmill and locate the offending mechanism that had stopped the water pump. She explained to him what she was doing as she worked. The mechanics of the pump were like nature, simple and pure. A lever here. A pulley there. Gray loved the elegance of its workings. The windmill belonged out here with the rest of nature's silent and productive miracles.

  He lent her a hand when she was in need of a third.

  They twisted and wrenched loose a couple of broken bolts, replacing what was beyond repair and fixing what could be saved.

  While she concentrated on the job, Gray took a few minutes to concentrate on her. They had to work in close physical proximity as he assisted her efforts—which was no hardship at all for him. It gave him a chance to study her features up close. To drink in the smell of womanly sweat—so tangy, so compelling. To slide his arm down hers before he reached for a tool, feeling her small muscles and raw strength through both their shirts.

  At one point, while she was lost in her work, Gray studied the li
nes and freckles on her face up close. Her creamy skin had grown pink in the sun. She was too fair for so much time on the range, he thought.

  But then he lost his train of thought altogether as he spotted a tiny drip of sweat coming from under her hatband. That little bit of salty wetness rolled down her cheek, past her jawline and wound its way down her exquisite neck.

  He had to catch his breath and clamp down on his tongue to keep from leaning over and tasting the sweetness of that salty sweat, to keep himself from licking that drop right off her skin. And in the meantime, tasting the honey that was all Abby.

  Just at that moment the droplet slid down to her collar and disappeared underneath to the rounded depths that were hidden by her denim work shirt. Gray wanted to follow it there. He wanted to place his lips where that drop had gone. To satisfy himself—and to excite her.

  "Well, that takes care of this job." Abby stood and dusted off her hands. "Want to take a little break? I could stand some coffee. You want water?"

  The windmill creaked a few times as the winds stirred it into life, and then the nearly silent shifting of the breeze was all Gray could hear. In another minute the water bubbled into the tank. He was grateful for the distraction.

  "Coffee would be good," he told her.

  Abby used a little of the water to wash her hands and face, and Gray followed suit. The water, though not particularly cold, was cool and clear. They let the air dry them off while she replaced her tools and retrieved the coffee thermos from her saddlebags.

  Before Gray could take his second sip of coffee, Abby's cell phone rang. She took it from her shirt pocket and answered the call.

  When she'd bidden goodbye to the caller, she turned to explain to Gray. "That was Jake on the phone. He's found another chore that needs doing this morning. And we're the hands nearest to the problem, so we're elected."

  Gray took a last sip, nodded to her and splashed the dregs left in his cup onto the ground.

  "This whole section has been newly restrung with barbwire." She waved her arm in a wide arch. "Remember when you said your horses were having trouble with our fences? Well, we've replaced every piece of wire between our two ranches since then.

  "Now it seems that some of the new wire is failing. Not holding up. Doesn't seem right. I helped put most of it in myself. No reason for it not to be sound."

  "Maybe the wire was bad," Gray volunteered.

  "Maybe. We'll see. We're going to ride up the fence-line for a few miles and check."

  Twenty minutes later Gray found himself following behind Abby once more while they rode slowly, checking the Gentry fence as they went. The sway of her hips and the straight-as-an-arrow strength of her spine fascinated him.

  She was getting to him. Seeping under his skin. He vowed to find a way to ignore what he felt when he was with her. It wouldn't do for him to give way to such lust.

  As he tried to tear his eyes away from her, Abby's gelding suddenly reared up. Gray watched as she held her seat and tried to calm her mount. But the horse pawed the ground and bucked sideways as if something was in his path that had panicked him.

  The more Abby tried to stay with him, the more it seemed that the horse was determined to jerk away. The horse's eyes rolled back in his head and he snorted wildly, nostrils flaring.

  Then Gray spotted the piece of loose wire that had by now wrapped around the horse's foreleg. He slowed Thunder Cloud and jumped to the ground, running toward the gelding as fast as he could. He tried to yell a warning to Abby, but the noise and confusion blocked out his words.

  And he got there too late. When he was within a few feet, Abby's horse twisted its body nearly in half and lost its footing.

  To Gray's shock, the gelding began to fall, taking Abby with him. Gray wanted to shut his eyes to the tragedy that was unfolding before him, but he couldn't look away.

  He could only hope that maybe, because she was so athletic and sure of herself on horseback, Abby would be able to jump clear. That she wouldn't allow herself to be pinned beneath her own horse as it went to the ground.

  Sure enough, Abby sprang away from the horse's back as the gelding slipped. But her timing and position were all wrong. Instead of jumping to the left, she went over the horse's head and landed on his right.

  As if in some disastrous slow-motion video, Gray watched Abby land, arms and legs askew, directly on the barbwire fence. In one horrific moment, the fence gave slightly under her weight and then made, what Gray thought must've been, one of the worst sounds he'd ever heard.

  The snapping noise as the wire popped loose from its post was loud enough to be heard twenty miles away. Gray was powerless to do anything to stop it.

  The taut wire's recoil was swift, unyielding, and with Abby directly in its path—potentially deadly.

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  Gray was at her side the instant the recoil stopped. "Abby!"

  He heard Abby moan and thanked the powers that be. But he couldn't touch her. The wire had wrapped around her body, holding her in a barbed cocoon. Blood flowed freely from her skin, and was even now in the process of slowly coloring everything with a wet scarlet blanket.

  "Don't move," he shouted. "Abby, do you hear me? Don't move."

  "The gelding," she groaned softly. "Help the horse."

  He ignored her and bent to study the wires holding her captive. "Let me free you first. The horse can wait. Please be still."

  No major arteries seemed to be cut. The closer he looked, the more he realized that blood wasn't spurting from any of her wounds. All the places of cut flesh that he could see were leaking blood, not gushing it. But there were so many places.

  She turned her head slightly, and Gray saw the gash on her cheek widen with a sickening rip of flesh. "The horse first," she whispered.

  He wanted to shout at her to be reasonable. To let him cut the barbs away from her skin right now. But then he saw the determination in her half-closed eyes, and he knew it was no use. Abby would only be still if he made sure the horse was all right first. Fear for her well-being warred with his own need to help any creature that could not help itself.

  "Okay. All right. I'll see to your horse. But you stay absolutely quiet. No more talking. Don't even blink."

  Gray rushed to the gelding. The poor animal lay struggling on the ground where he'd fallen, and the more it flailed the worse the loose wire tangled around its leg. Things were desperate for the horse. Every time it moved the barbs dug deeper, and blood had begun to spout profusely from the wounds.

  Gray spoke in the language of his Comanche forefathers. He didn't know if that might help calm the animal, but it wouldn't hurt. It also gave Gray something to think about while he tried to ease Abby's tool bag from the pack attached to the gelding's saddle.

  Luckily for Gray, the tool bag was situated on the left side of the struggling horse's body. If it had been on the right, between the horse and the ground, Gray would never have been able to reach it.

  He spoke to the gelding in as soothing a voice as he could manage while he ripped the tool bag open and found the wire cutters. When he had them in his hand, Gray realized he couldn't cut the horse free while the animal still kicked and fought with its barbwire captor.

  He knew he had to do something else to calm the horse, so he moved to Thunder Cloud's side and ripped a buckskin rag from his packs.

  Thunder Cloud was watching the injured horse with concern and that gave Gray yet another idea. "Help me to help your brother, Thunder Cloud," he begged the mustang. "I will save him, but he must stay quiet."

  Gray gingerly placed the rag over the downed gelding's eyes at about the same time that Thunder Cloud made a loud snuffling noise deep in his throat. The gelding reacted immediately to the darkness and the call from his brother horse, settling into a tense calm and allowing Gray to remove the wire prison.

  When the barbs had been cut away and dragged off and hidden under a bush, Gray removed the rag from the gelding's eyes. The h
orse was on his feet again a second later. Gray quickly tied the rag around the gelding's foreleg in an effort to temporarily stanch the blood flowing from the cuts.

  Without taking so much as another breath, Gray was back at Abby's side. "The gelding's up. We can tend his wounds later. I'm going to cut you free now. Keep your eyes closed and remain as quiet as possible," he said in a too-harsh tone.

  Abby made no sound or movement, and for a second Gray wondered if she'd passed out. But then, as he studied the wire that had wrapped around her face, he noticed her eyelids jerking while she obviously fought to keep them closed. She was still conscious and still tightly wrapped in the ball of wires. His heart thumped in his chest with fear for her.

  Why couldn't this have happened to him instead? He'd trained for surviving great bodily hurt. Had practiced closing his mind off to the pain. Had literally spent years learning to remain perfectly still while he sat awaiting the hunt.

  But this calamity had befallen the strong little female of Gentry Ranch. Had happened to the woman who'd saved his life. To Abby. So alive, so beautiful and so animated. His vision blurred as he looked down at her, and when he swiped at his eyes, he found wetness there. He set his jaw and picked up the wire cutters again.

  A great aching anguish stole over his spirit, rendering him less effective in his efforts to help her. He closed his eyes for one still second and prayed to the ancient elders for assistance. Please, fathers, help me to see not the injured woman but only the work that has to be done. Give my hands strength and stable movements. Let me save her life as she saved mine.

  When he opened his eyes again, he saw a tiny gap in the knot around her head. With one hand, he held the wire tightly, while with the other he gently made one cut directly over the gap. He heard a snap but felt no further recoil or tightening. It had worked. He'd found a way to cut away the tangle without making the situation worse.