When Hank got back to the house, he thought Carly was asleep. She wasn't. She heard him sit down in the living room. After several minutes of silence, he emitted a broken, masculine sob-the sound so soft she might have imagined it. Then she heard him whisper, "Oh, God, oh, God. I had no idea. No idea. What if I can't do this?"

Carly huddled on her side. Scalding tears filled her eyes. She'd told Hank a dozen times that he had no clue what he was getting into with her. Now reality had finally been driven home.

He came to her later. After taking her into his arms, he promised over and over that he'd make the ranch safe for her. "I'll start on it first thing tomorrow, and I won't rest until everything is absolutely safe, I swear."

Despite all his reassurances, he failed to do the one thing that might have eased Carly's aching heart. He didn't make love to her. When she tried to encourage him, he caught her hand and drew it to his lips. "Not tonight, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I just -can't."

It was the first time since the night at the lake that he'd turned away from her. Carly huddled on her side, her heart splintering into a hundred lacerating pieces.

True to his word, Hank was at The Works, the Coulter ranch supply store, when Zeke opened the doors the next morning.

"Hey, little brother," Zeke said with a smile. "You're in town early today."

"I need wire and posts," Hank told him. "A shit load. Carly's scared to death. And who can blame her? I've got to make it safe for her out there, Zeke."

"Her vision is getting that bad already?"

Hank nodded. "Seems a little worse with each passing day. She can still see up close, but I think even that's getting blurry."

When Hank returned to the ranch an hour later, Levi met him just outside the stable. The older man scratched his head and shuffled his feet, clearly at a loss for words. When he finally found his voice, Hank could barely credit what he said.

"Carly left," Levi said flatly. "With that friend of hers. Bess, I think's her name. Looked to me like she took most of her things with her."

Hank rushed to the cabin. Irrational though he knew it was, he hoped to see Carly at the kitchen table, devouring her morning sickness cure. She wasn't there. As he closed the door, an eerie feeling of emptiness assailed him. The cabin never felt this way when she was there.

Not wanting to believe that Levi was correct about Carly leaving him, he moved quickly through the house. A glance into the front closet told him clothes were missing. In the back bedroom, he discovered that most of the baby clothes and blankets had been removed from the bureau.

En route back to the kitchen, he saw a letter lying on the table. Feeling drained and strangely detached, he sank onto a chair to read it. Her lines were hopelessly crooked, but the writing was legible.

Dear Hank: It's difficult for me to write, so I'll make this short. I need to live in the city where there are sidewalks and crosswalks and public transportation systems. You need to live where you are, close to the land, working with your horses. I'll always remember you here, in your element, my handsome prince in riding boots with a Stetson tipped low to shade his eyes. For a while, you made all my dreams come true. Unfortunately, you were only on loan. Just know that for a time, I was happier than I ever thought I could be, and that I'll treasure my memories of you forever.

She had tried to draw a happy face, which was lopsided, with one eye outside the circle. I'll be in touch. In time, when we've both distanced ourselves from this a bit, maybe we can see our way clear to being good friends. For the baby's sake, we should aim for that.

She ended with a flourish. Yours always, Carly.

Hank tossed the letter onto the table and just sat there, staring through tears at nothing. Gone. She was gone. No matter how he tried, he couldn't wrap his mind around that. Even worse, he couldn't contemplate a future without her.

Late that afternoon, Bess answered her phone on the fourth ring. "Hello?"Hank swallowed to steady his voice. "Hey, Bess. It's Hank."Long silence. Then she finally said, "Hey, Hank. What a surprise."He smiled sadly. "I know you came out and picked her up, Bess. She told me so in her letter.""Okay. So you know. End of subject."Hank sank onto a chair. "You have to tell me where she is.""No," she replied. "I don't have to tell you that."He sighed and closed his eyes. "Let me put it another way. I'll find her, one way or another. Be a friend. Save me a lot of trouble and money."

"I can't. I promised her. I betrayed her once. I won't again. I can't help but think thatmaybe she's right this time.""How the hell can you say that? I love her, damn it, and she loves me. We belong together. I'll also remind you that she's carrying my child.""Calm down, Hank.""I won't calm down. My wife left me! She went to her father's, didn't she?"Silence."I'll take that as a yes." Hank tightened his grip on the receiver. "Damn it, Bess. Don't play these games. Is she going to be happy away from me? Ask yourself that."

"No, she won't be happy," Bess admitted, "but at least she'll be safe, and so will you. Sometimes you have to love someone enough to walk away. Wouldn't you do whatever it took to stop her from throwing away everything that mattered to her?"

"She is what matters to me, Bess. She hasn't saved me, she's destroyed me."

"You know what I mean. We're talking thousands, maybe over a hundred grand to make that place safe for her. How in the hell can you cough that up?"

Hank laughed bitterly. "Oh, come on. It won't cost that much."

"Want to bet? You can't just drive some stakes and string some rope. You'll have to network the place with concrete paths, bordered with metal rails. There should be intercom systems everywhere so she can call the stable, the cabin, or the main house in case of an emergency. And you need hurricane fencing around the pastures, not barbed wire. I could go on and on, and that's just improvements to the land. She also needs handrails on all the porches, and the inside of the house has to be arranged just for her. A hundred grand isn't really a stretch. It could cost a hell of a lot more than that."

Hank hadn't realized so many things needed to be done. "I'll handle it."

"How? You tell me that, and maybe I'll give you her father's address."

Bingo. Hank relaxed on the chair. Now that he knew for sure where Carly had gone, he was that much closer to bringing her home. "Thanks, Bess."

"For what?"

"Telling me where she went."

"Shit."

He chuckled humorlessly. "You want to save me the trouble of sniffing out his phone number and address?"

"No. Oh, all right. But I'm warning you, Hank. She won't come back with you. Not unless you perform miracles out there. She and the baby almost died."

"It'll never happen again. I'll see to it. She wants miracles, I'll give her miracles, I love her, bottom line.

She belongs here with me.""Then call in experts.""Experts?""Yes, professionals-people who can look at the ranch, the house, and all the outbuildings, then draw up plans that will work for her.""That will cost a bloody fortune.""Exactly.""Okay. Fine. Experts. I can do that."Bess reluctantly gave him Carly's father's address and phone number. "Don't go get her until you're positive, absolutely positive, that you can make it work. Promise me. She's already bleeding, and so are you. If you bring her home, and things don't work out, you'll only be prolonging the inevitable."

Hank had seen Ryan and Bethany make their marriage work. Everything had been against them, but they'd somehow managed to beat all the odds and create a workable solution, a life that accommodated both of them. Love and a determination to overcome every obstacle had seen them through the difficulties.

Hank loved Carly, and he was damned sure determined.

Bethany and Ryan were eating dinner when Hank rapped on their door and let himself in. Bethany beamed a smile when she saw him. "Hey, big guy. How's Carly feeling today?"

Hank started to reply, but his nephew cut him short.

"Unko Hank!" Sly chortled as he squirmed to get out of his high chair. "Unto Hank!"

Forcing a smile, Hank circled the table to hug the child. "Hey, partner." He pretended to snitch some of the child's food. "Yum! Green beans."

Sly clearly didn't share the sentiment. He promptly tried to shove a fistful of the beans into Hank's mouth. Bethany laughed as she wheeled into the kitchen for an extra place setting. "Have a seat!" she called over her shoulder.

Ryan stood to shake Hank's hand. "What brings you out this way?"

"I have a problem I need to discuss with you," Hank replied.

His sister returned to the table, arranged a place setting, and then patted the seat of a chair. "Problems are always easier to solve while breaking bread together. Sit down, you big lug."

Hank took the chair. "I'm really not hungry." He wasn't sure he'd ever feel hungry again. "Carly's left me."

Bethany froze. "Oh no," she whispered.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ryan commiserated.

Both Ryan and Bethany stopped eating while Hank filled them in on Carly's flight that morning. Bethany's expression conveyed her understanding. "It had to have been pretty scary for her Hank," she said softly. "Carly almost died in that pond, and it's a miracle she didn't lose the baby."

Hank nodded, his throat so tight it was difficult to speak. "I need to make a lot of changes on the Lazy J, fix it so she'll never be in danger there again. Only I'm not sure how to start."

Bethany went into the kitchen for a bottle of wine and three goblets. En route back to the table, she said, "It'll be extremely expensive, especially if you bring in experts to draw up the plans. I have several blind friends from college. I'm sure I can hook you up with the right contacts. But they'll probably make a list of needed improvements longer than your arm. They usually do."

Hank rubbed the back of his neck to ease away the tension. "I'm not worried about the costs. The Lazy J is half mine. I'll borrow against my equity."

Ryan took the wine Bethany poured for him. Leaning back on his chair, he took a sip and said, "That won't be necessary. I'll float you a loan."

Hank knew Ryan was richer than Croesus, but it went against his grain to tap family. "I can't take your money, Ryan. I need to do this on my own."

"Bull hockey." Ryan set his glass on the table with a decisive click. "I know you're good for the money. And the truth is, Carly won't be the only one to benefit from the changes. Bethany has a hard time getting around out there. She worries about getting stuck if she goes very far from the house."

"That's true," Bethany inserted. "On the Fourth, I was afraid to take Sly down to play in the creek because the ground is soggy. Ryan had to go with him. I'd visit you guys a lot more if there were pathways for my wheelchair."

Hank shook his head. "I came for information and advice, not money."

"Yeah, well, what you came for and what you get may be two different things," Ryan said. "It doesn't make good business sense to borrow against the ranch, putting the family land, not to mention your source of income, at risk, when I've got more money than I know what to do with. I'll be royally pissed if you go that route. How can you turn down a pay-it-back-as-you-can, no-interest loan?"

Hank arched an eyebrow. "No interest? Who has no business sense?"

Ryan winked at his wife. "My interest return will be having that hell hole you call a ranch transformed so my wife can visit there without one wheel of her chair dropping off into a hole large enough to swallow a Volkswagen."

Hank laughed in spite of himself. "Hell hole? Excuse me. You're talking about the Coulter family heritage."

"Exactly." Ryan inclined his head at Bethany. "She's a Coulter by blood. I reckon if anyone has a right to go all over that ranch, it's her. Go all out, Hank. Turn that ranch into a dream come true for handicapped ladies. My reward will be watching your sister wheel all over the place with our kids, showing them all the things she used to do when she was growing up."

"Amen," Bethany said.

"You've got one kid." Hank motioned toward Sly, who was devouring his mashed potatoes without benefit of utensils. "Why are you using the plural?"

Bethany blushed and flicked a glance at Ryan.

"You're pregnant?" Hank laughed incredulously. "Wow! That's fabulous, Bethie. I'm happy for you guys."

Her blush deepened. "We're not sure yet. Maybe." She glanced at Ryan again. "Probably. I'm late."

"A whole lot late." Ryan grinned, his twinkling blue eyes warming with gentle affection as he regarded his wife. "She's been so busy this summer with the riding academy for handicapped kids that she's neglecting the important stuff-like letting me know I'm about to be a dad again."

Bethany wrinkled her nose. "I'm not neglecting anything. I just haven't had time to take a test, thank you very much. I either am or I'm not." She slanted her husband a sultry look. "If not, we'll just keep trying."

"I'm thrilled for you guys," Hank said. "Congratulations."

"About accepting that loan." Bethany gave Hank an accusing look that said, "You owe me this."

"Ryan has an obscene amount of money. If you borrow against that land and put my family heritage at risk, I'll never forgive you."

Hank couldn't speak for a moment-couldn't even think what to say. He only knew he was the luckiest man alive to have such a wonderful family.

"I accept," he said huskily. "Thanks, Ryan. It might have taken me a month to secure a bank loan. Now I'll be able to start the work right away."

"And bring your wife back home where she belongs a whole lot sooner," Bethany inserted with a happy grin.

"I can't wait," Hank said hollowly. "I promised her friend Bess I'd wait to go get her until all the work is completed, but it won't be easy."

Ryan pushed up from his chair and went to get the portable phone. "Bethany, go find those contact numbers for Hank," he said as he punched out a number himself. A moment later, he said, "Hey, Rip. Ryan Kendrick here. How's business this summer? Do you happen to have a work crew available?" He listened for a moment. Then he gave Hank a thumbs up and said, "That's great. My brother-in-law needs some work done, ASAP, a major project similar to the one you did for me on the Rocking K." Ryan's grin broadened. "Two crews? Hey, buddy, that'd be fantastic.

He'll need a few days to get the plans drawn up. If you could book both crews for the first part of next week, I'd really appreciate it." Ryan paused. "You bet. Hank Coulter. He owns the Lazy J, east of town." He recited Hank's cell phone number. "That works. He'll be expecting you to call. Thanks, buddy."

After breaking the connection, Ryan grinned. "You're halfway there. Rip Tanner's top-notch. He runs a tight ship and hires the best men around. Things have been slow this summer, and he's got two crews that aren't booked right now. He can have them on site next Monday, ready to break ground."

Hank had seen the quality of Tanner's work on the Rocking K. As he recalled, the construction company had also gotten the project finished in record time. "That's fantastic. Thank you, Ryan."

For the first time since he'd walked into the cabin and found Carly gone, Hank was able to relax. He had the money to revamp the whole ranch, and paying off the loan wouldn't put him in a bind. He also had two crews lined up to get the work done. Bethany would get him in touch with other top-notch professionals to plan the project.

If all went well, Carly might be back home on the Lazy J in only a few weeks.

Chapter Twenty-one.

Art Adams stood in the doorway of the shadowy guestroom, gazing solemnly at his daughter, who had finally fallen asleep in a fitful sprawl on the queen-sized bed. In the summer heat, even central air couldn't keep the rooms comfortable without costing him a fortune, so he kept the thermostat at eighty. As a result, Carly was covered only with a sheet, the sharp projection of her hipbone and the pointed thrust of her shoulder clearly visible through the limp drape of linen.

In the three weeks since she'd shown up on his doorstep, she'd done nothing but spin her wheels, enlisting him to spend hours on the Internet to try to help her find a teaching job, either here in Arizona or in Oregon. When that endeavor had failed, she'd asked him to read her the Help Wanted section of the classified ads each evening, her eyes fixed almost feverishly on nothing, her face taut. There were no jobs in the immediate area that she could perform. Each night as he'd opened the paper, Art had prayed that they might happen across something. Even a position as a phone solicitor would have given her some sense of purpose, but so far, they'd found nothing.

Without a specially equipped computer, Carly couldn't even write a letter of introduction by herself.

It hurt to watch his daughter, who'd always taken such pride in being self-sufficient, being brought to her knees. In trying circumstances, other women could wait tables, take care of other people's children, or sling hamburgers to make an income. None of those options were open to a blind woman.

In the interim, Carly had lost an alarming amount of weight. It was like watching someone be bled dry. With each passing day, her dauntless spirit had weakened and she'd become more pale and listless. Now she spent most of her waking hours sitting by the window, listening to country-and-western songs on the radio while staring blindly at the desert, her once expressive eyes gone empty except for an awful hopelessness that Art couldn't dispel.

Watching her suffer this way, Art had come to hate Hank Coulter with a virulence that frightened him. His child's heart was breaking, and the man she mourned didn't care enough to pick up a phone and call her. Never in his life had Art felt so frustrated, angry, or horribly helpless.

Over the last few days, he'd tried to distance himself and regain his emotional equilibrium, but it was impossible. How could a father pull away from his only child? Her joy was his joy. Her pain was his pain. Right now her world was falling apart, so his own was in a shambles as well.

The phone rang just then, jerking Art from his mus-ings. With one last look at his girl, he carefully closed the door and limped into the living room to grab the portable. "Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Adams?" a deep, masculine voice said. "This is Hank Coulter, Carly's husband."

For an instant, Art was so taken aback he couldn't think what to say. Then anger surged through his body, so sudden and searing he began to shake. For days, he had fantasized about all that he would say to this worthless excuse for a human being if he ever got the chance. He headed for his bedroom where he could speak his mind without waking Carly.

The moment the door was closed behind him, Art said in a voice several decibels above normal, "You rotten, good-for-nothing son of a bitch!" That wasn't exactly the delivery he'd planned, but it sufficed-for starters. He wondered if Coulter had hung up and hoped he had. Carly was better off without him in her life. "Are you still there?"