shirts and browsed the two racks of dressier clothing, which were nothing more than nicer western shirts
and a few denim skirts.
Wanting to be done with it, she piled the clothing over her arm and headed for the cashier. She stopped
short when she saw her father standing at the register paying for his purchases.
His gaze swept over her. There was a brief flicker of recognition, but he turned away as if she were
nothing more than a stranger. No acknowledgement, no greeting.
A knot formed in her throat. It shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t bother her one iota that the unfeeling bastard
had snubbed her. He’d made his feelings plain a long time ago. She was dead to him. She just hadn’t
expected him to act as if she were nothing at all.
Why should it be easy for him? Why should he get away with acting like an ass? She’d done nothing to
deserve his scorn, and she was tired of feeling guilt for perceived wrongs. There were plenty of real ones
without adding the imaginary kind.
“Dad,” she said evenly.
He froze, and for a moment, she thought he’d look at her again. His shoulders stiff, he collected his sack
from the counter and turned away to walk toward the door.
“Nice to see you too,” she called.
He didn’t miss a step.
“Emmy, don’t,” Greer said, his voice hard. “Don’t put yourself through that. He’s an unforgiving bastard,
and he’s not worth your breath.”
Her gaze followed her father until he disappeared from view. It shouldn’t hurt. No. But it did. Her own
family didn’t accept her. Didn’t want her.
Taggert stepped in front of her, blocking her view of her father’s departure. He touched her cheek with
gentle fingers, his eyes soft as he looked down at her.
“Don’t torture yourself, sweet pea.”
She nodded her agreement and turned to toss her clothing onto the counter.
“Glad you’re back home, Emily,” Will Ludlow said with a smile as he rang up the items.
“Thank you, Will.”
At least the townspeople didn’t seem to blame her for bringing violence into their small, tight-knit
community. In her more paranoid musings, she’d wondered if they’d welcome her back or want her to
stay away. Nothing ever happened in Creed’s Pass. Until the day a crazy fan took his obsession too far.
Greer collected her bags for her, and the three of them walked outside.
“I need to drop our grocery order off and then we’ll have some time to kill before it’s ready. Want to go
eat at the café?” Taggert asked.
Emily froze. Her fingers were icicles against her arms, and she gripped tight, trying to infuse them with
warmth.
She shook her head. No, she didn’t want to go back there. It was the last place she and Sean had been
together.
“Can we just go?” she whispered.
“I can send one of the hands back for the supplies,” Greer murmured.
Taggert put an arm around Emily’s shoulders and directed her toward the truck.
She sat staring out the window on the drive home. The scenery passed in a blur, not really registering in
her consciousness.
“Why does he hate me so much? He’s always hated me.”
“Forget him,” Taggert growled.
She shivered as she remembered the sting of her father’s belt. Never would she forget the helpless rage he
invoked in her. She hated that trapped-animal feeling. He’d treated her no better than an animal to be
kicked when its master was displeased.
“What are you thinking about, Emmy?” Greer asked softly from the backseat.
“His belt,” she said honestly before she could think better of it.
“His what?” Taggert demanded.
She shook her head and turned away to look out the window once more.
Greer scooted forward, draping his arms across the backs of the two front seats. “Talk to me, Emily. What
the hell did you mean?”
She closed her eyes and curled her fingers into tight fists. Maybe it was time they knew the truth. Maybe
then they wouldn’t think she’d recklessly run off with Sean because she was in a pique over their
rejection.
“The day I came over…” She swallowed. She hadn’t realized how painful it would be to revisit this part
of her past. “My father had beaten me because Sean took me to talent night over at the honkeytonk. It was
the night I met Frank.”
“He beat you?” Greer asked in a horrified voice.
“What are we talking about here, Emily?” Taggert demanded.
“Please, just let me finish,” she begged.
They fell silent but their faces were masks of anger, their lips drawn into tight lines.
“I just wanted to get away so I worked up the courage to tell you how I felt. I was young and stupid. I