Jane Bonander by Wild Heart Page A

had been. And the kind of life that molded him into what he had become.
    Nathan Wolfe gave her an amused smile. “You don’t know much about your husband, do you?”
    Julia lowered her head. “No. We only got married yesterday.”
    “And here we are, horning in on you.” His voice was soft, understanding. “I’m sorry, I—”
    “No, please. Tell me more about him.” McCloud’s voice on the back stoop halted their conversation.
    He and the boy entered, and his gaze locked with hers. She gave him a tremulous smile.
    “So,” she said, getting to her feet, “everything all right outside?”
    “Everything’s quiet.” McCloud went to the stove and poured himself a cup of coffee. “Jackson, here, thinks Sally’s going to foal early next winter.”
    Julia’s pulse jumped. “Really, Jackson? How can you be so sure?”
    He gave her a shy shrug and looked at the floor. “Just a guess, but sometimes I can tell these things. Isn’t that right, Pa?”
    His father nodded. “He’s predicted both of our foals months before it was evident that the mares were pregnant. They were winter births, too.”
    “I see.” She gave her apron a nervous twist. “I should check on the baby. And see that your room is ready.”
    “Mind if I come along, Miss Julia?” Jackson was at her side. “I’m kinda tired. Bed sounds good to me.”
    “No, not at all.” She was anxious to leave the two men behind.
    Wolf followed her with his eyes until she was gone, then took a seat across from Nathan at the table. He avoided his friend’s gaze.
    “What brings you this way, Nate?”
    “I had some papers to sign in San Francisco.”
    Wolf toyed with his coffee cup. “How’s Susannah?”
    Nate grinned, his eyes warm. “She couldn’t be better.”
    “How did you know I was here?”
    “I didn’t. Not until Jackson and I had stopped in Martinez. We were at a chop house this morning having breakfast, and shared a table with a lawyer named Williams.”
    Wolf couldn’t suppress a chuckle. “How in the hell did my name come up?”
    “We got to talking about available ranch land. He said something about a deceased client whose land might have been up for sale if the old man hadn’t established “the breed” into his will.”
    This time Wolf laughed out loud. “Whatever made you think it was me?”
    “I didn’t. I was just curious, so asked if he could give me the name of the breed.” His grin was one of cunning. “Imagine my surprise. Lots of interesting questions, McCloud.”
    Wolf caught the smile in the words. “And I have no doubt you’re anxious to ask them.”
    Nate gave him a quiet laugh. “I guess my first question would be—how in the hell did this happen?”
    “It’s a long story.”
    “Are you happy?”
    Wolf’s laugh was caustic. “Happy? That’s not the word I’d use.”
    “And why’s that?”
    “Because my wife would sooner plunge a knife through my heart than be forced to play the loving bride.” His disappointment puzzled him.
    Nate leaned against the chair and steepled his fingers on his chest. “Interesting. Care to elaborate?”
    Wolf left the table, went to the desk in the other room and returned with a copy of Amos’s will. He retrieved a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from the dark pantry, then plunked the will, the glasses, and the whiskey on the table. “Here,” he offered, pushing the will toward Nate. “Read page three.” He poured them each a healthy shot of liquor.
    Nate read the page, his expression one of shocked surprise. He downed his drink. “The old man forced you to marry his daughter? Wasn’t there any way out of it?”
    Wolf swallowed his whiskey and gave Nate a wry smile. “Believe me, my new wife tried.”
    “Care to tell me what led up to all of this?”
    Wolf poured himself another shot of whiskey, but didn’t drink it. “I was hired on last fall, during harvest. The old man and I got along well. He confided in me, was relieved to be able to talk to someone