Free Keegan's Lady by Catherine Anderson Page B

sad to Ace—so incredibly sad. This place should have been permanently scarred by what had happened here.
    Gazing out over the endless sweep of rolling grassland, he could see, stark against the horizon, the outline of the sprawling log house he and his brothers had begun building three months ago. Except for the interior finish work, the structure was almost completed, nine months ahead of schedule, according to Ace's calculations. Back in San Francisco , he had projected that it would take three months alone just to erect the house, and that hadn't been counting the six to nine months he'd figured it might take to get possession of the land. Patrick O'Shannessy had helped expedite matters by making the mistake of sitting across from Ace in a poker game.
    Usually, seeing the house filled Ace with a sense of accomplishment. He was so close to success, damn it. So close. It was too late to start having doubts, too late to call things off. After nearly twenty years of work, he was about to see his stepfather's dream become a reality. The Paxtons would work the land Joseph had died for. They would marry, have children, live and die here. All Ace had to do was see things through to the end.
    Until tonight, it had all seemed simple. Now, he realized that the stakes were higher than he'd ever dreamed. How much was his burning hatred for Joseph's killers costing him? Or, perhaps more accurately, how much was he willing to sacrifice for it? When all of this was over, would there be anything decent left within him?
    ----
    CHAPTER FOUR

     
    Thanks to Ace Keegan and his
midnight
raid, Caitlin felt unaccountably nervous the next morning when she went to fix breakfast. Jumping at her own shadow, her da would have called it. Her cat Lucky gave her a bad turn when he leaped out from under the sink unexpectedly. Then Hank came pounding on the door, the suddenness of his knock startling her yet again. By the time Patrick stumbled into the kitchen for a cup of coffee, she was growing accustomed to having her heart in her throat.
    The kitchen was cloaked in predawn shadows, yet Caitlin hesitated to light another lamp. One was aplenty, and really all that they could afford. Lantern fuel cost money, and they had pitifully few pennies to waste.
    As if he read her thoughts, Patrick said, "God, Caitlin, I realize you're trying to save money, but do you have to make the coffee this weak? I swear I could make stronger if I tied a bean to a duck's tail and ran downstream to catch a cup of water."
    "Oh, now, Patrick," she scolded. "It isn't that weak. Things are lean right now. I've told you that. We have to cut expenses every way that we can, and if that means making weak coffee, so be it. We have to start making payments on that bull now, remember. Where else will we come up with the money if not by economizing?"
    Angling her body sideways to keep from getting smoke in her face, Caitlin thrust another length of oak into the fire and replaced the range lid. Inside the stove, the wood ignited quickly, sizzling and crackling like hundreds of muffled firecrackers. Despite everything that had happened last night and might still happen, the sound cheered her. After all, Patrick was unharmed, and for the moment, so was she.
    For the moment. . . There was the catch and the main reason she was so jumpy, she guessed. Because she knew Ace Keegan might come back. When was the question.
    "Patrick," she said hesitantly, "I've been thinking."
    Her brother fixed her with a bleary gaze. "Uh-oh. That's always dangerous."
    Caitlin tried to smile, but the attempt went awry. Her insides felt as if they were being fed through a laundry wringer. "This business about the bull and making payments.. ." She caught her lower lip between her teeth. "I know I said we would manage somehow, when we discussed it last night, but the more I think about it, the less certain I am that we actually can. We barely make ends meet now."
    Patrick glanced around, as though in frantic search