L.K made a point of staying away from Andy for the next few days, but she couldn't help seeing him drving the tractor, or shoring up the fence, or cutting the herd, or working with Red. From the corner of her eye she watched as he talked, laughed and smoked with several of the other ranch hands, and she noticed that he didn't bother telling Abi to leave whenever she happened to run into him. Time and time again they were together, she smiling up at him, he being patient with her.

L.K couldn't imagine what they had talked about. But with Abi, they didn't have to be any conversation. Men and boys alike vied for the honor of just standing close to her.

Nearly a week passed until L.K was alone again with the time on her hands. She felt restless and bored and wondered why summer was different than any other. Last year she still found a little fascination with the things she always had but this summer, with the weather so blasted hot . . . She glanced over to the paddock where Andy was working with Red. The colt seemed less prickly. Maybe Andy was making progress. Some men broke horses fast, in a matter of days, but Andy took his time working with an animal and, she supposed, she should be grateful for that. Still, she felt as if the whole family treated her like a little girl who couldn't do anything for herself--including riding her own horse and she was almost seventeen!

She climbed over the fence and hiked down to the creek where, as a girl, caught crawdads and periwinkles and watched water skippers skim the ripples. She and Abi and Alex had played down there years before, splashing each other and throwing mud, wading in the shallows. Alex had been fun-loving then, laughing and pulling L.K's hair or trying to spatter his younger siblings with the muck he'd raked from the bottom of the creek. L.K and Abi had caught him smoking his first cigarette down there once, coughing up a storm, and another time L.K spied him with some dark-haired girl, kissing and rolling around in the shadows, sweating and panting. L.K had ducked away quickly, slipping back through the leafy curtain of willow branches before he recognized the girl who so willingly let him strip her of a scanty little training bra.

That's about the time things changed, when Alex started being interested in girls. He started looking at L.K differently and didn't play their old games. He'd always had a streak of devil, but he seemed to get meaner about the time his beard began to come in and his voice railed between low notes and screeches. He was frustrated and angry. Once he'd whipped a horse until it bled and shot a neighbors cat for sport. In both instances, Christian rebuked Alex then marched him to a barn, where he'd forced the boy to lean over a sawhorse and whipped his butt. Alex had screamed and yelled, swearing as he'd been struck, then marched to the house red-faced and sweating, his eyes filled with hot tears of humiliation, the hard twist of his mouth set in angry defiance.

Christian had then driven him into town, made him talk to a priest, but no matter how many "Hail Marys" and "Our Fathers" Alex was forced to utter, he just got meaner. L.K was sure Alex could have said the rosary over and over again, wearing the stones smooth, and still he wouldn't have bowed his head to his father's will.

No, something inside of Alex had changed, but L.K didn't know what.

Now, she kicked off her boots and dug her toes into the mud near the water's edge. The stream was low, not much more than a trickle that gurgled and spit over time-worn stones.

Wrapping her arms over her knees, she felt restless again--the same unnerving energy that kept her up at night.

Plucking a piece of grass from the bank, she gasped as shadow passed her shoulders and spread on the ground before her.

"What're you doing here?"

Andy. She'd know his voice anywhere. Her heart slammed into her throat. "Nothing." Turning, she tried not to notice that Andy's shirt was open, the sleeves rolled up, his nearly threadbare jeans hanging so low over his slim hips thay his navel and the light hair around it was visible. A heady warmth invaded L.K's blood as she wished her feet weren't black with wet soil. "I was just wondering when I can ride my horse again."

"You sound like a broken record."

"Well?"

"Soon as he's docile as a puppy."

"If I'd wanted a dog," she said smartly, "I would've gone to the pound." Standing, she wiped her feet on the grass and tried to hide the fact that she was embarrassed. "I think you should stop working with Red. I like him the way he is."

"Ornery?"

"Yeah, ornery."

Andy made a sound of disgust in the back of his throat.

"I already told you I like a colt with some fire, who has his own mind."

"Who throws you off and knocks you senseless?" Andyy asked, fidling with his pocket knife. He seemed taller standing in his cowboy boots when L.K was barefooted. The sunlight shifted through leaves that stirred with a breath of wind, causing shadows to move over his chiseled features. He snapped his knife shut.

"Seems to me he threw you off."

A twisted smile caressed Andy's lips. He stuffed the jack knife into his pocket. "Can't argue with that, but I hope you're not spreading it around. Wouldn't want the rest of the hands getting wind of it."

"It's our secret," L.K said with a smile.

"Is it?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die--" She made the childish gesture over her chest, then stopped when she noticed Andy's gaze follow the movement. "Well, you know what I mean."

Lower lip thrust out, he nodded, the most agreeable L.K had ever seen him.

"But I still think I should ride him."

"You will," Andy promised. "Soon."

"I can control him."

"Then how do you explain this?" He touched L.K's bruised shoulder, and L.K nearly jumped out of her skin.

Somewhere in the back of L.K's mind she realized that being alone with Andy was flirting with danger she really didn't understand. There was always something different in the air whenever she was around him--like that sharp electrical charge just before a rainstorm hit.

She lifted the shoulder in question. "I made a mistake the last time I rode him."

"One your daddy doesn't want repeated."

"Maybe he doesn't know what's best for me."

"And you do?" A dark eyebrow shot skyward, and she realized Andy was laughing at her attempt at bravado.

"Why do you treat me like I'm a child?"

"'Cause you are."

"You're not that much older."

"It's not the years, darling."

"Then what?" she asked, inching up his chin defiantly. "Your experience?"

A half smiled caressed his lips. "That's part of it."

L.K's heart was drumming wildly, and she noticed the light hair on the back of Andy's arms, the cleanly shaven chin, his attitude of insolence that she found frightening and fascinating. Andy reached forward, and L.K thought he might kiss her for a timeless instant, but he touched the chain around her neck as he did before. The medal, dangling between her breasts, seemed to sear his skin. "You always wear this."

L.K nodded.

"Why?"

"I--I don't know."

"Some kind of commitment to your church? Or did some boy give it to you?"

"No one gave it to me."

He dropped the chain, glance away for a second, then sighed. "I followed you down here to apologize," he admitted. "I came on a little strong the other day."

"It's okay--"

"Nope. Let me do this. You, uh, caught me with my pants down, so to speak. I lost my concentration, the horse sensed it, and threw me."

"But I distracted you." The air seemed heavy and L.K backed up a couple of steps, her back making contact with the rouch bark of the willow.

"I shouldn't have let you."

"Oh."

Andy glanced to the hollow of L.K's throat, where her heart was thrumming wildly. In the span of a few seconds, only the soft gurgle of the stream broke the stillness. L.K sensed that Andy wanted to kiss her, that the reason why Andy's hands were curled into fists was that he was fighting a losing battle with himself. "I should go--"

"No!" L.K said quickly, then felt her cheeks burn. "I--uh--"

A muscle ticked in Andy's jaw, counting of heartbeats. His gaze collided with L.K's, and though no words were spoken, L.K knew Andy felt it, too. That hot, anxious wanting that seemed to pulse in the air between them. L.K licked her lips. Andy let out a soft groan and when he spoke, his voice was dry and rough. "It would be better, for both of us, if you stayed away from me and the horse."

"I like being around you," L.K admitted and Andy squeezed his eyes shut, as if he could close off her image.

"Well, don't, L. Don't like me." When Andy opened his eyes again, he seemed to be in some sort of control and the veins didn't stand out so much in his arms and neck. "Believe me, lady, we'll all be a lot better off if you just stay the hell away from me."

---

"So what's it like working for the richest man in the county?" Ashley pulled a bottle of beer from the refrigerator and offered one to Andy. Sawdust dusted Ashley's hair and the shoulders of his work shirt.

"You tell me," Andy said, frustrated in the hot trailer. His mother's little fan was whirring loudly, in a vain attempt to keep the sweltering temperatures below ninety. He swiped a hand over his sweaty forehead, then stripped out of his shirt, but the heat stayed with him, like memories of the Bale teens, thoughts that played havoc with his mind. "You work for him, too."

"Along with half of the town." Ashley set the two bottles on the cluttered table, opened them both, then drained half of his. "But you, you have the privilege of seeing how they live, what they do . . ."

"I shovel shit." Andy took a long swallow. "It ain't all that glamorous."

"No? It has to beat standing on the green chain, pulling lumber until your gloves wear through and your hands bleed." Ashley tossed a shock of brown hair off his forehead and his blue (yes, will be blue in this story) eyes, so like Andy's now, bored into him.

No one would ever make the mistake them for siblings, they looked too different--the different size and build, different hair color. The only similarities were their eyes and Ashley's features were a little more refined than Andy's. Andy had always accused his brother of being handsomer--and that usually set Ashley off, start a wrestling match which, until four years ago, Ashley always won handily. Lately the tables had turned, and consequently they didn't take out their frustrations on each other--at least not physically.

"Okay," Ashley said as he straddled a chair. "Tell me about the house, the cars, and the son and daughters," Ashley's lips curved into a half-smile. "You like the women, don't you, Andy?"

"The kids are spoiled brats."

"You're not interested?" Ashley asked, leaning both elbows on the table.

"No."

"Bullshit." He took another long swallow, his gaze holding his younger brother's.

"I've been up there, to the house, when the old man asked me to sign papers for that loan. I got a good look at what he's got, and I swore to myself right then and there that I was in heaven. I'd find a way to have it all one day, the mansion facing the hills, another house in Florida, maybe even a beach cabin. I'll buy an airplane and invest in timber and the rock quarry and the sawmill. All I have to do is pay my dues, go to school and learn to kiss the right asses. Eventually, I'll be where old Christian is and I'll be the one passing out interest-free loans and being the richest damn bastard in the county. No more crawling on my knees."

It was a touchy subject. Ashley hadn't wanted to borrow money to finish college, but hadn't had much of a choice. Christian Bale, in another benevolent gesture to the Biersack clan had offered to the loan.

"Yep, the old man knows how to live, and those teenagers of his aren't hard to look at, are they?"

Andy wanted to say he hadn't noticed, but Ashley would accuse him of the obvious lie.

"You know, it wouldn't be a bad plan to marry one of them and inherit a piece of the Bale estate."

"I thought you said to stay away from them. That L.K's jail-bait."

"She is, but she won't be forever. And Abi. Jeez, a man can get hard just thinking about her. I think she's old enough to know what she wants."

Andy didn't like the turn of his brother's thoughts. "What about Alex?" Andy asked, not that he really cared. He never really gave Christian's other son a second thought. "He's one mean son of a bitch and I don't think he'd take too kindly to you horning in on the family business."

"What about him? Just because he was born with a silver spoon rammed between his dentist-perfect teeth doesn't mean that old man will give him everything. Besides, I'm smarter than he is."

"But his name is Bale."

Ashley didn't subscribe to Andy's way of thinking. "L.K and Abigail will get their due. Old Christian, he always tries to play fair--even if it's only to look good. So he'll take care of L.K and Abi and his in-laws."

"You've got it all worked out." Andy didn't bother hiding his irritation.

"Damn right." With a grin, Ashley took a long swig from his bottle, then pointed an accusing finger at his brother.

"The trick is to treat Abi and L.K with respect. Hell, that's the only way to get anything in this world."

"By kissing ass, as you said."

Ashley's jaw hardened. "I'm a realist, man. I'll do what I have to. You should take a lesson. Be careful."

"Not interested," he repeated, but his mind wandered to L.K--yep, a man could respect another. Abi was something else.

"I'm not climbing onto this imaginary gravy train. It's all yours if you want it. But, believe me, you're setting yourself up for a fall. Alex Bale isn't going to let you get one thin dime of what he thinks is his." Andy stared out the tiny window over the sink.

"This is crazy talk anyway. We're both just working for the man."

"And we'd like to keep it that way, for a little while. So, I'm warning you, bro. You're in heaven now working for the old man, but you'd better watch your step. You've really blown it in this town; you're nearly dead as far as you work goes, and that little episode with Samantha Nichols was a nail in your coffin. You're lucky Christian Bale hired you, considering how he feels about his kids."

Andy took a long pull on his beer and felt the cool liquid slide down his throat. Why Christian had hired him was a mystery, but then Christian Bale was into philanthropic causes, especially where the Biersacks were concerned. He'd come to their rescue a couple times when Ma was in serious financial trouble. Christian's concern had generated more than a little gossip. Maybe old Christian did consider Andy a charity case. The thought granted on his nerves and he suddenly wanted a smoke.

"Why did Bale hire you anyway?" Ashley asked, as if reading the questions running through his mind.

Andy propped his heel of his boot on the seat of the chair next to him. "Beats me," he said, then matched his brother's know-it-all smile with one of his own. "Must've been my charming personality."

"Yeah, right." Ashley didn't bother hiding his sarcasm. "Just don't blow it. I've worked hard to start repaying Bale, and I don't want you to do anything that might make him think worse of me--or Mom."

"Don't worry," Andy said.

"Good." Ashley leaned his head back and stared at the grimy ceiling. "It's sad to admit but I'd do anything to get a little closer to the Bale money."

"Would you?"

"Anything," Ashley said, sighing as he grinned as if he were savoring a familiarly pleasant thought. Andy guessed he was dreaming again. "

This is no way to live." Ashley gestured around the old trailer house, hardly big enough for one person, and home to Eva and her two grown boys.

Andy figured it was about time to move out, but Ashley didn't have time or money. Between a full-time job at the mill, and college, he barely had time to sleep. Living here purely a matter of economics for Ashley. As soon as he graduated from school, he'd kiss his job good-bye and take off for the city--unless he found a shortcut to making big bucks in Los Angeles.

Los Angeles. What a name for a town. A goddamned joke that's what it was, unless your name happened to be Bale or any other rich family name. Otherwise, the town could be named Poverty, or Kiss-Bale's-Ass, or some such drivel.

Andy told himself he stayed in the rust bucket of a trailer because, with Ashley gone all the time, someone needed to stick around and watch the place. Their mother, with her claim of psychic powers, wasn't the most popular woman around. Several church groups were becoming vocal against all of them, claiming she was communing with the devil or some such shit, and Reverand Sanz had dropped by on more than one occasion suggesting that Eva give up her hathen ways of "Reading the Future" or the boys "Go 'Straight'" and start attending Christian services regularly on Sunday mornings.

The man was slick as snake oil and, Andy suspected, a hypocrite to boot. There were several preachers in California, and Sanz was the most self-serving bastard on the lot.

Ashley scooted his chair back and reached into the refrigerator for another beer. "So tell me about L.K and Abi--and not just they're rich and spoiled. I know that much. Start with Abi."

Andy lifted a shoulder. He wasn't stupid. Obviously Abi was playing with him, teasing him, showing him just a little of what she can do to offer a reaction from him; well, he wasn't going to bite.

"Come on, I spend all day at Floyd Jones, John Anderson and Howard Springer's ugly mugs. I'd love to have a glimpse of Abi Bale instead. Of course, I'm afraid I'd get hard just by looking at her."

"Why?" Andy asked, as if his cock hadn't sprung to the attention at the sight of her lying in barely nothing and drizzled in suntan oil. "'Cause she's good-looking or because she's rich?"

Ashley leaned back in his chair. "Both. They're both turn-ons. Big, no, make that massive turn-ons."

"Well, you'll have to stand in line. She's already got a couple of guys who can't stay away, their tongues hanging out so far they nearly lick the ground and their dicks so hard they can't breathe."

"Is one of those guys you?"

"No way."

Ashley's eyes narrowed. He'd always been able to see past Andy's lies. "You're saying you don't want a piece of Abi Bale?"

"I'm saying she's too much trouble."

Ashley thought for a second, then took a long swallow and rolled the brown between his palms. "Just once I'd like to see what it's like to be with her . . . well, if not her, then that little sister of hers. When she grows up, she'll be--"

Andy's boots dropped down to the floor, and he felt his blood pound at his temples. He shot across the table in a second, his face just a fraction of an inch in his brother's. "Don't even think about it," he warned. "She's just a kid."

Ashley's grin stretched wide and his eyes sparked. "Don't tell me you've got a thing for the girl." He chuckled. "Well, I'll be damned. You'd better be careful. Like I told you before, she's jailbait."

Andy grabbed the front of his brother's shirt. His elbow hit Ashley's beer bottle and it fell on the floor, spraying foam. Andy ignored it. "That's why she's off-limits. Way off," he said.

"But you'd like to have her, wouldn't you? Christ, I can't believe it. She's hot enough, but she's hardly got any tits!"

"Just leave L.K alone!"

"I told you, I like the sister."

"Stay away from her, too." Andy unclenched his hands and straightened. He found a rag, wiped up the beer and dropped the bottle into a carton half-filler with empties. "I don't need any trouble with old man Bale or either of his kids."

Notes