Whirlwind by Alison Hart Page A

Hugh hadn’t acted on his threats, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t.
    Chase’s voice came from outside. It was late afternoon, time to turn out the horses. He was talking to George about which horse went in which pasture.
    Jas held her breath as the two came into the barn. She didn’t want to see George or Chase. She wanted to stay hidden in the stall, Shadow’s bulk safely between her and the door. Because, if she was honest with herself, Hugh wasn’t the only thing she was worried about. Last night, she’d helped Grandfather changeinto his pajamas. It had taken forever—he’d insisted he could do it himself, yet couldn’t. And she’d been all thumbs. Finally they’d given up on his buttons and he’d slept in his cotton T-shirt. By then, he’d been so exhausted and Jas so frustrated she’d forgotten about helping him wash his hands and brush his teeth.
    Then this morning, when she went in to wake him, he was lying so still she’d thought he was dead. No, worse than dead: paralyzed and unable to care for himself for the rest of his life. Fortunately, he’d only been sound asleep. But guilt had instantly swept over her. What kind of granddaughter was she? Grandfather had taken care of her for fourteen years. He’d nursed Grandmother when she was sick. Couldn’t she lovingly do the same for him?
    Except if he couldn’t work at Second Chance Farm, what would happen to them? What would happen if he had another stroke? Miss Hahn couldn’t afford to keep them on as charity cases. Jas wouldn’t stand for that, anyway. It had been bad enough being a foster kid.
    “Hiding?” someone asked.
    Jas jumped as if Hugh had opened the stall door, knife in hand, instead of Chase carrying a lead line.
    “I didn’t know I was that terrifying,” he said.
    “You could have warned me,” she snapped as she pushed herself to her feet, angry for being so skittish.
    “It’s not like I was sneaking around.” He pointed a thumb down the aisle. “You didn’t hear me cussing up a storm? George left the supply room door open, and Rose snuck in and tore open a feedbag.”
    “No, I didn’t.” Grabbing the end of the lead line, she tugged on it.
“I’ll
turn Shadow out.”
    “You don’t need to bite my head off.” He tugged back.
    Jas bristled. “Are you talking to me or Shadow?” She yanked harder.
    Chase studied her hand on the rope; her knuckles were white. “Are you looking for a fight?”
    “No.” Stepping back, she let go. “Sorry.”
    “Sure you are.” He tossed the lead line at her and strode from the stall.
    Jas kicked Shadow’s bucket.
Darn, darn, darn. Why do I do that?
Hooking the lead onto Shadow’s halter, she hurried after Chase, who was leading Jinx from the barn. Outsidethe door, Hope was curled in a pile of raked up straw. Jas almost tripped over her. Shadow missed her tail by an inch. The little dog didn’t budge.
    “Chase? Wait.” She caught up to him at the pasture gate. He’d already turned out Jinx, who was trotting off.
    “I didn’t mean to yell at you,” Jas said as she led Shadow into the pasture. “It’s just that—”
    Shadow reared back, eager to be with Jinx. The lead line ripped through her fingers. He raced after Jinx, the rope flapping. “Shoot!” she swore as she ran after him, hollering, “Whoa! Whoa!” But he flew down the hill, out of sight.
    Stopping, she blew out a frustrated breath. There was no use chasing him. He’d think it was a game of tag that he wasn’t going to lose.
    She turned. Chase was leaning back against the closed gate. His arms were loosely crossed. His grin was crooked and, she thought, a little sad.
    Jas strolled over, fingers shoved in her front pockets. His grin widened as if he’d shaken off the hurt. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
    “You are, horse girl.” Chase jutted his chintoward Jinx and Shadow, who had stopped to graze at the farthest possible spot. “You handle
Equus caballus
as well as you handle
homo