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Chapter 1
Ricky Maddox had always been the flashy type for as long as Jakob'd had the misfortune to know him. If there was anyone who enjoyed being the center of attention more, Jakob hadn't met them yet. Which, considering Jakob's past? Was saying something.
"Look, just talk to Frank," Ricky wheedled, the sunlight glinting off his no-doubt expensive sunglasses. "He listens to you, looks on you as if you were his own son. He told me that if you wanted to sell, he would sell. Could live out the rest of his days like a king. You could too, Jakob. We could call it… an administration fee or something. Whaddya say?"
Jakob glanced at the man. Took in the thousand-watt smile beaming up at him where Jakob sat on the back of his horse; the incongruity of his tailored suit and highly polished shoes compared to the dust and gravel and mud of the ranch's drive. Even his car was out of place; the bright yellow of the supercar he had come roaring up in was a sharp contrast to the faded red and white trim of the stables behind.
Looking around at the house, Jakob considered the old gray hay barn beside it, and the red and white stables further past. The barn would probably be the first thing to go if Ricky had his way, to make room for building the big McMansion he said he wanted.
The horses out in the field beyond would be next once he realized how much effort they were to care for. Right now they made a pretty picture, grazing among the yellow wildflowers with the blue of the ocean sparkling below the ridge; the mainland a hazy, almost purple line in the distance. But once Ricky found out they weren't like his fleet of cars, ready to go for a spin at a moment's notice, but living breathing creatures with demands and personalities of their own?
The stable would be converted to a garage practically overnight. Probably even before the dust from the last trailer pulling away had a chance to settle.
The bay mare under Jakob shifted in place, as if able to read his mind and just as uncomfortable with the idea as he was. More likely, she was just impatient. Here she was, all saddled up for a ride, and now the inconsiderate human on her back was sitting around jawing; like she was some piece of fancy furniture in a tea house someplace?
Jakob leaned down to pat her shoulder in silent apology.
"I already told you, Ricky. I'm not interested," he drawled, enjoying in no small amount the way Ricky's enterprising smile seemed to flatten. "And Frank doesn't want to sell any more than I do, which Iknowyou know already because he's called me enough times to complain about you hounding him."
"It's… Richard now, actually," Ricky winced, the first sign of humanity Jakob might've ever seen from him, come to think of it. "Grandfather insisted. Richard Maddox the fourth, of Richard Maddox Real Estate."
"Bet you save a fortune on business cards," Jakob snorted. "What happened? Grandpappy see the news stories about some of those parties you used to throw?"
"C'mon Jakob," Ricky whined. "I drove all the way out here to talk to you today and this is how you treat an old friend? I'm getting mud on my shoes trying to do right by you. The least you could do is come down off your high horse there andinviteme in for a cup of coffee; bend an ear to my offer, for old time's sake."
"You've got a different memory of those 'old times' than I do. Way I remember it, you weren't interested in being anyone's friend back then. Don't seem you've changed your stripes any since. Best thing I can say about you, is at least you're consistent," Jakob shook his head. "You say you want to buy the place, build your dream house on the land? You seem to be forgetting that to do that, you would be tearing downmyhome. Which tells me you still don't understand the first thing about friendship,Ricky."
Ricky's eyes darkened, but he was too good, too polished to let his businessman's smile drop. That same slick facade that had made him such a media sensation both on and off the football field apparently translated just as well after he'd been forced into retirement and gotten into real estate instead. You couldn't get even halfway to San Morado without seeing his face on half a dozen billboards; a sight that always left Jakob with the vague regret he'd never given Ricky that well-deserved punch to the nose back when he'd had the chance.
"This is alife-changingamount of money I'm offering you, Jakob. Well over what the bank valued it at. My accountant thinks I'm crazy. Says I'm paying downtown prices for a cabbage farm in the sticks. Frankly, it's far more than this property is worth — "
"Seems to me, a businessman like yourself should know something is worth what someone will pay for it," Jakob interrupted, letting a little of the annoyance he felt at being talked down to slip into his voice. "Or how much someone values it —realvalue. Not some number a bank comes up based on their algorithms and such. Goes for a luxury penthouse in a skyscraper downtown or a ranch out in the ass end of nowhere. Even for an old cabbage farm."
Jakob could practicallyhearthe gear change as he abruptly switched tactics.
"You've got a daughter, right? Going to be heading to university soon?" Ricky asked, as if they were making idle chatter. "Could send her to a good one, anywhere she wants. There's a big world outside this town. This could be her ticket to seeing it. You too."
Jakob grimaced, one eye on the dust cloud he could make out coming up the road. But no, it kept on going without turning onto the drive. Likely only a lost tourist passing through, then.
There were far too many folks like Ricky who assumed that just because Jakob looked and talked straight out of a western, he must be as dumb as the dirt under their feet. Never seemed to cross their minds that perhaps Jakob had already traveled his share of the world. That hewantedto live in a place like Chance's Harbor. That after everything he'd seen and done, he'd chosen to come back home.
No, there wasn't a single thing Ricky could offer Jakob, not that he wasn't trying his damnedest. But the fact of the matter was, for Ricky to get his dream home, Jakob would have to give uphis.A fact the guy appeared oblivious to. Or, more likely, just plain didn't care.
"Answer's still no," Jakob answered firmly. He tried not to take any pleasure in the look of fury that flashed briefly across Ricky's faux-friendly expression, but it was a close thing. "Look, normally I would advise you to set up a meeting the next time you want to talk business about the ranch, but the answer will still be no. So if it's just going to be a waste of both our mornings again, please don't bother. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've gotrealwork to get to," he said, ending the conversation.
Jakob clucked his tongue at the mare, nudging her towards the other end of the ring andawayfrom a red-faced Ricky. He guided her into a trot, allowing himself a smile as he heard the crunch of gravel as Ricky stomped off, then the sound of the car door slamming.
Good,Jakob thought,if he's offended, maybe he'll finally drop the idea and leave us alone.
He heard the start of the engine, rolling his eyes as Ricky revved the motor. He'd barely registered the noise of spinning tires on loose rocks before he felt a sudden sharp pain in his cheek. Before his worldlurchedout from underneath him as the mare shied and bucked underneath him as the supercar peeled out of the gravel drive.
Ricky and his car forgotten, all Jakob's attention was suddenly consumed with the panicking horse under him. With sticking in his saddle as she ran straight for the ring's fencing,awayfrom the roaring engine and the spraying rocks shooting out like artillery fire from under its tires. The mare squealed, high and shrill; trying to scrape off the rider from her back with the help of the steel panels hemming her in. Slamming her full weight against the railing of the riding ring that dared attempt to keep her from running to safety as was her natural right; as thousands of years of evolution was screaming at her to do when faced with a predator, when confronted by a threat.
Too in her own head with fear, she paid no heed to the pulling on her reins; ignoring the terrified shouts from the rider on her back or the other humans now spilling out of the stables as she pressed herself as hard against the fencing as she could; trying to get out, trying to getaway,trying to getfree.
Bright hot pain blossomed on Jakob's right side, all up his arm and down his leg. He knew he had to stay on. That up here was safer than down there, around a panicked horse's hooves. But — but he couldn't quite feel the reins, the saddle's pommel in his clutching hands, his foot in the stirrup.
There had been a scream —
