Prologue

 

The cupboard with its shuttered doors was never used unless to store unwanted ‘cannot throw that away it might come in useful’ items. Packed with years of memories gathering dust, it groaned under the weight of old books, records and boxes containing anything from old football shirts and baseball gloves to fishing rods and baby clothes.

 

The handle was always a bit temperamental but once you mastered its idiosyncrasies, jimmied open the squeaking door and tentatively reached in to pull the light switch - which seemed to attract every spider in the house - and nothing fell on you, it was your lucky day. The top shelf that ran the full length of the wall, virtually unreachable unless you brought a stool, sagged beneath old brown cartons. Unlabeled, they had sat there for twenty-one years. Untouched for years, their contents pushed into the recesses of minds more occupied with the living than with the dead. Thrumming with energy at his coming of age, when Charlotte looked at them and smelled the Jasmine, she knew it was time.

 

 

Chapter 1

The Cowboy's Story

 

The unrelenting heat of the late afternoon sun beat down on his back as he stripped off his shirt, and dunked his head into the horse trough. There was little relief from the water that dripped from the mop of black hair as he replaced his Stetson and watched the Mustangs kicking up dust across the dry land, which spread as far as the eye could see. Too much work and not enough time for play was making Ben twitchy and he really wanted a vacation, not that there was such a thing when running a ranch. Indigo snorted, pawed the ground and nudged Ben with his nose. It had been a long day, they were out before sun up and he was obviously eager to return home.

 

Gathering the reins, Ben swung into the saddle and taking a last look at the disappearing herd, he turned Indigos’ head and headed into the trees that dotted the escarpment. The black stallion was a good breeder and for the past two weeks, some select mares had the pleasure of his company after he returned from the day’s ride. He was obviously up to the task and Ben could understand why he was friskier than normal.

 

“Yes I know, eager to get home for your oats.” Ben laughed as Indigo shook his head. Give or take a few days, Indigo and he were the same age. From the time he took his first faltering steps while clinging onto Indigo’s leg there was a deep understanding between the colt and the boy. If Aunt Charlotte had allowed it, Ben would have moved into the stables. However, she objected strongly to the boy sleeping there during school semesters. Charlotte often found him asleep, curled up on the straw with his head on the horse’s neck and she dragged him from the stables either by the collar of his shirt or by his ear. It did not stop him doing it and over the years, she despaired at his behavior.

 

“You are just like your father and JD, what is it with the men in this family and your total unwillingness to do as you are told?”

 

Her words rang in his ears for years. He never knew his parents; they died shortly after he was born. Aunt Charlotte brought him up and her son, JD, was the closest Ben had to a father figure. He loved them dearly and was forever grateful for all they did. Charlotte along with the help of Bob, the ranch manager, took over the running of the ranch in Ben’s early days. Bob was the stability Charlotte needed to continue, thanks to him the ranch survived and she had a shoulder to cry on over the years.

 

From what Ben knew, his mother injected quite a bit of money into the ranch shortly before she passed away and this carried the ranch through the year following the accident.

 

Creek Ranch - once home to only cattle - now also boasted the best horse stock in the county. People from miles around came to purchase the Mustangs. Born and bred on the open range of the enormous homestead and rounded up at two years old - through much patience and work - turned into reliable, tough, headstrong beasts. During the past five years, their fame grew and now a purebred Mustang - especially a black one - fetched a good price.

 

The oldest ranch hand, Sonny, came up with the idea to breed the Mustangs as another source of income and after that, the ranch had stayed on an even keel. When JD turned twenty-five he started taking an interest in the business, and the horses eventually began to show a profit. There were now over fifty hands working on the ranch and with two thousand head of cattle and one hundred and fifty horses, they had their hands full.

 

Turning twenty-one tomorrow, Ben had grown up as a ranch hand. Working hard every day, and as he matured, playing harder at night. With his father’s striking good looks, black hair, rippling muscles and chiselled jaw, the boy was very popular around the young ladies in the area. His steel blue eyes he inherited from his mother - along with her flights of fancy -and longed for the day when he could up and leave. It was not that he disliked his life; he could think of nothing else he would rather do. However, he had many unanswered questions. He sensed part of him was missing, but had no idea why. He knew there were places to go, people to meet, and women to keep him company in the still of the night. He had so much to do yet, felt he had such little time.

 

Making their way down through the Aspen trees, the animal’s ears pricked up at the sound of running water. A couple of minutes later the trees thinned and the shade of the forest gave way to bright sunlight again as the horse picked his way across the rocks to the creek. There were some torrential storms in the previous weeks and the river swelled immensely but that had now subsided to a gentle flow, which made the crossing easy. Once over the other side, Ben paused for a few minutes to enjoy the tranquillity in this beautiful spot. Aware that this was where his parents died Ben felt closest to them here and to their souls, which he felt lingered in the river.

 

Following the worn path out onto the meadow Indigo broke into a gallop as they reached the road and minutes later, the ranch came into sight. Judging by the position of the sun it was almost six and Ben suddenly felt very hungry. He was tired but one thing was for certain, he would not be sleeping tonight. It was Friday and he was going into town with the boys. Sleep was the last thing on his mind as the beer was waiting - and hopefully a little hot action. Closing the gate, Ben watched the horse canter off towards the brood mares, then stowed the tack and headed for the house.

 

“Get washed and hurry up.”

 

Charlotte shouted up the stairs, hoping he heard because she refused to go chasing after him. If she had been up those stairs once today, she had been up a dozen times. Each time she went up for the same reason, but returned downstairs unable to face her fears. She was so tired, as in the last few weeks she spent more time awake at night than asleep. Tossing and turning with confused dreams left her moody and frustrated however, up until today, she had managed to push it to the back of her mind. The recurring vision, which invaded her nights, brought memories rushing back of a time gone by. Feelings so painful, which she had managed to keep hidden for so long, were rearing their ugly heads and they terrified her.

 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Ben rushed into the kitchen and planted himself at the table.

 

“You were the one who wanted to get a ride into town Ben; they are leaving in half an hour, so hurry up. You have been in that bathroom for almost an hour, what on earth do you do in there?”

 

Ben smirked, “Just getting ready for the ladies Char, got to look my best tonight, might get lucky!”

 

“That’s quite enough of that talk thank you very much Ben Adams, I am not in the slightest bit interested in your antics but just make sure you are careful.”

 

Ben pulled his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, removed a string of condoms and dangled them in front of his Aunt.

 

“Put them away! Do you have no respect?” Charlotte frowned as she plonked the dish of mashed potatoes in front of Ben.

 

Ben laughed, folded the condoms carefully back into his wallet and tucked into dinner. He was a hot-blooded male and took no chances. He did not intend to settle down for years, there were too many sweet girls awaiting his attention and he was not getting himself lumbered with one. Besides, look what love did for his parents. No, he decided long ago to remain a bachelor all his life.

 

Gulping down the last of his food, Ben rushed back to his room. Grabbing his Stetson and jacket, he flew down the stairs and ran into Charlotte at the bottom.

“BEN!”

 

“Sorry Aunt Char, love you, see you tomorrow, hopefully!” He bent down and kissed her on the cheek before he streaked away.

 

“Ben, get back here!”

 

“I’m going to be late, can’t it wait?” He called from the kitchen.

 

“No it can’t, come here.” Charlotte stood hands on hips as he ran back in. “Now just wait there young man.” Charlotte picked a box up from the chair and handed it to him. “This was your father’s; he never got a chance to wear it. I kept it in my closet all these years and was going to give it to you tomorrow, but I think now is as good a time as any. Well go on, open it.”

 

Ben lifted the lid from the box and gasped. A black Stetson sat on white tissue paper.

 

“Oh Aunt Charlotte this must have cost a lot, look, it even has a silver and leather band around it.” Ben threw his old hat onto the chair, placed the new one on his head and glanced in the mirror.

 

A sob caught in Charlotte’s throat as she remembered that Christmas when Evan opened the same box and tried the Stetson on. Ben looked so much like him.

“What do you think?”

 

“I think your father would have been proud to call you his son.” Charlotte’s bottom lip quivered as she forced the words out.

 

Ben threw his arms around her, gave her a big hug and with a farewell wave of his new hat he ran outside to the truck.

 

With tears in her eyes, Charlotte glanced upstairs. She knew it was time, but was she ready?”