She sighed audibly. "The stable vet and trainer disagree with your recommendation for Diamond."

"Not the first time there's been a difference of opinion," he said impatiently.

"Will you please come? Just for a weekend? Talk to them?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible, but if you'd like me to ask Dr. Jensen if he's available for a quick trip to L.A., I could do that."

"You know it's not Dr. Jensen I need right now. I'll pay. Top dollar."

Clay leaned his elbow on the desk and applied his thumb and forefingers to his temples. "You never understood about that, did you, Isabel? I'm not for sale."

"You have your son there now," she said. "Your son and your girlfriend."

"Gabe is working in the clinic and living with my sister in Grace Valley. He told me he talked to you briefly before you left, so I'm sure you already know those details."

"And the girlfriend?"

He was silent for a long moment. "Do you want to talk to Dr. Jensen about a consult?"

"I want you to stop treating me as though I'm some horse breeder you don't know! I have a problem with a very valuable quarter horse."

Clay stayed stoically quiet for a moment. "Yes, I know. I think we addressed that problem. Didn't we?" There was no answer on the line. "Do you need the doctor?" he asked.

"I thought I was clear. I need you."

"I'm no longer available to you."

"What about my horse?" she asked indignantly.

"The doctor has given you a course of treatment. If you'd like to discuss it further, I'll call him to the phone. Otherwise, good luck."

The sound of the phone slamming several times against a hard surface answered him. Then there was a dial tone. He stared at the phone for a moment, then the door to the office opened and Nathaniel stood looking at him.

"You didn't step all that far out," Clay commented.

"Landlord rights," he said. "And maybe the only way I'm going to find out what's going on around here." He nodded toward the phone. "What's that all about, Clay?"

Clay put the cordless on its base. "That is proof positive that material wealth does not guarantee happiness. Isabel has many needs, and right now what she needs is to have me at her beck and call." He shook his head and didn't smile. "Poor Isabel."

"She's having trouble with the horse?"

"Possibly, but more likely she's having trouble accepting the fact that I moved on. This is my fault, Nathaniel. I thought patience was the way with Isabel. Patience and understanding. But I only enabled her."

"Enabled her to do what?" Nate asked.

"I've always seen her as a woman who needs love and acceptance, who needs reassurance that love wouldn't be withdrawn, that it would be permanent. But there's more to her. Isabel was raised by an abusive man and I can't even imagine the extent of that abuse. There are things she's never been able to talk about. I do know that as a child she was treated too harshly--affection was continually withheld. Earning a kind word from Frederik was impossible, even when she became an accomplished adult. And I see now there's a side to her that's...that's very like the man who raised her. It's not something I witnessed often, but her many needs can push her to behave as a selfish, self-pitying bigot. And I should have been clearer when I left L.A. that I was permanently leaving her and our relationship. Like I said--my fault."

"Bigot? A bigot who married a Native American?"

"Exactly. If Isabel is a bigot her father is a full-blown racist. It suited them to have a Native farrier and stable manager--it was interesting for them. I was a conversation piece, more so when I married Isabel. It escalated again when we divorced but I stayed on at the stable. This move was long overdue."

"This used to be a happier place," Nate said. "No one's happy these days. What are we going to do about Lilly?"

"We?"

"It's not just you and Lilly who are unhappy. My Annie is down--Lilly isn't ready to talk about this whole mess. Annie had just found herself the perfect training partner and had big dreams for what they could do for young girls when you and Lilly fell out. I used to have a much more content assistant. And poor Gabe--he walks around like he's afraid to sneeze. So, what are we going to do?"

"Nathaniel, I apologize. If I'd dealt with Isabel a long time ago none of this would be happening. I carried on with Isabel for a long time after our divorce. I was married to her, after all. There was no one else in my life and I didn't see the harm.... Isabel was here when Lilly came to deliver feed the other day and somehow she knew. She knew Lilly was my--" He took a breath. "Isabel made sure Lilly knew that even though I'd been divorced a couple of years, we'd continued on until recently."

Nate had a shocked look for a moment. "That's what you meant," he said. "When you said you were divorced but not that much had changed." He ran a hand around the back of his neck. "Jesus."

"This is all my fault, all of it. I apologize. I brought unhappiness to all my favorite people. Maybe if I'd truly ended it with Isabel, or at least been more honest with Lilly before Isabel showed up..." He shook his head. "I'll do whatever I can, Nathaniel, but in the meantime, I'm sorry. I take full responsibility."

Nate looked at him for a long moment. "Oh, boy, do you have your work cut out for you."

"Tell me about it."

Jack was getting pretty used to the bar being quieter than usual at around the dinner hour. In fact, if some of his close friends didn't drop in, if hunters didn't come by, there wasn't very much to do. Mel kept trying to reassure him that he'd done the right thing by refusing to buckle under to the obviously selfish wants of individuals. "And I know these people almost as well as you do, Jack--they're going to come around. You were true to what we all believe Hope would want. She has always wanted to improve the town, not improve a few personal fortunes."

He believed in the town, too. But he had believed they'd come around a little faster.

When a young man walked into the bar, Jack thought he probably grinned foolishly. He was a little too glad for the company. "Hey there, how you doing?"

The guy dragged his hat off his head and actually looked around, as if to be sure Jack was talking to him. He was tall, had short brown hair, dark eyes and a shadow of a beard. He wore a khaki jacket, jeans and lace-up boots. He smiled at Jack and cocked his head. "Good," he said. "How about yourself?"

"Excellent," Jack said, giving the counter a swipe. "What can I get you?"

"How about a beer? Whatever's on tap."

The beer on tap was stale from under use. Jack reached into the cooler and pulled out a Heineken in a bottle. "I'm ready to change out the keg--try this at on-tap price."

The guy chuckled. Kid, he was just a kid. Jack would put him at about twenty-three, twenty-four. "Can't argue with a deal like that."

"If you like Heineken, that is," Jack said. "If that's not your brew, just say so, I'll get you something else."

"You're the most accommodating bartender I've run into in a long time."

Jack just gave his head a shake and realized he was so damn happy for a nonjudgmental customer, this was a little embarrassing. "Yeah, we aim to please. So what brings you to town?"

The kid took a long pull from his beer and put it down on the counter. "That's nice," he said, admiring the beer. "I heard about this place from a buddy who likes to hunt up here. I was gonna come hunting with him, but he couldn't get a kitchen pass from his wife, so I came up just to look around. That's all," he said with a shrug.

"It's deer season," Jack said. "You decide not to hunt?"

"Not this time, but I wanted to look the place over."

"We get quite a few hunters in here, but not usually till after nightfall. Dusk is a good time of day for hunting and they wait it out. In fact, most of them stop here on the way out of town, when they've done their hunting and want to enjoy a good meal." He frowned slightly. "You look kind of familiar. Have you been around here before?"

"No," he said with a laugh. "I've been a long way from here. Afghanistan. I just got discharged."

"What branch?" Jack asked.

"Marines."

"Ooo-rah," Jack said, putting out a meaty fist. "Lotta us around. Welcome aboard. So, when you're not in Afghanistan?"

"I grew up around San Diego. I was born there. Not far from Camp Pendleton, as a matter of fact. So what else was I gonna do? I didn't want to join the Marines, but it was the law." Then he grinned handsomely.

Jack laughed at the boy. "I guess you look like every kid I ever took into a training program, exercise or war. I must be getting old. Thanks for serving and welcome home." He put out his hand. "Jack Sheridan."

The young man stuck out his own. "Denny. Denny Cutler."

"I think I might've had a Cutler serve under me. Did you have brothers in the Corps?"

"Nope," he said with a laugh. "Just me."

"I guess they're all starting to run together--the names, the faces. Sorry about that," he said. "But I'm glad to make your acquaintance, son. Wish you were gonna be around here a little longer."

"I think that may happen, as a matter of fact. Just how nasty does this place get in winter?"

Jack shrugged. "Not terrible. We're low enough elevation that we almost never get snowed in, but the roads, well... Just let me say, four-wheel drive comes in handy."

"I was afraid of that," Denny said. "I grew up on the beach."

Jack leaned his elbows on the table. "Then why on God's green earth would you hang around a place like this?"

Denny seemed to think about his answer. "How good are you at confidences?"

Jack straightened, got a serious look in his eye and held up his right hand. "On my mother's grave, I haven't let slip more than twenty-percent of the time. And never under enemy interrogation!"

"At least you're honest," Denny said.

"I like to talk--I can admit that. But the fact is, if I know it's a secret, I'm good."

Denny just stared at him for a long moment and then he burst out laughing. "I'm crazy, right? I'm going to tell you a secret when I don't even know you? And you're a bartender? You could tell everyone in the closest three towns!"

Jack straightened. "Well, that's not likely," he said. They don't hang out here so much anymore, he could have added.

Denny just chuckled. "Okay, here's the basic fact. My mother never got married. I grew up thinking the guy who lived with us since I was born was my biological father. He split when I was little. We weren't that sorry to see him go. My mom died about six months before I went to Afghanistan, and before she died she told me the guy was not my father." He gave a shrug. "This wasn't bad news."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry, Denny," Jack said from the heart. "Was it sudden?"

"No, it wasn't sudden. She was sick for years--she had cancer and would go into remission, have a flare-up, go into remission and... Well, when it was getting to be the end she knew it. She had lots of time to think about it. She wanted me to know who my real father was. He's around Northern California. He was a marine."

"Seriously? Have you found him yet?"

"Not yet," he said.

"Well, maybe I can help. I know most everyone. Around here, anyway. And most of the military folks around here at least stop in to say hello."

"I appreciate that, man, I really do. But here's the thing--I thought I'd figure out on my own where he is, what he's like. Two things here, Jack? Is it Jack? That's your name?"

"Jack, that's right."

"Thing is, Jack--maybe I find him, meet him, and I don't like him. Maybe he's not a real big improvement on the guy I thought was my father and was relieved to learn wasn't. What if he's a jerk? What if he beats his wife or something? I can walk away and he'll never know. And the other thing--what if he really doesn't want to know he has a son from a little fling twenty-five years ago? What if he's a mayor or something? A priest or police chief? What if it would really upset his life to have some long-lost son pop out of the woodwork, huh? Because I could understand that, too."

"I get what you're saying, kid--especially if he's a loser. But what man wouldn't want to know about his own son?"

Denny shook his head. "A man who never had the first idea might be a little upset about it, don't you think?"

"Maybe for five minutes," Jack said. "But once he thought about it, he'd be glad for a second chance."

"You think?"

"That's what I think," Jack said.

The door to the bar opened and Mel came in. She held a little hand in each one of hers--David, almost four, and Emma, almost three.

"Hey there," Jack said, coming around the bar. He crouched to pick up Emma and with one strong hand, lifted David onto a stool. "Were you two good today?"

"They were excellent," Mel said. "We have a new addition at the clinic--Cameron put up a swing set in the backyard for our kids and his twins. I don't know why we didn't think of it sooner. So," she said, jumping up on a stool next to her son, "may we please have some juice? Please?" she said, nudging David.