A Promise Worth Remembering (Promises Collection) Read online




  A Promise Worth Remembering

  Promises Collection, Book 2

  By

  Cyndi Faria

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  Dear Reader

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  Copyright

  Acknowledgments

  A Promise Worth Remembering

  Prologue

  Three months ago, Bailey Yant hadn’t understood the treacherous power of the Cosumnes River. How she could admire the water’s glassy surface one moment and then be trapped within the blackened undercurrents the next until a boy pulled her from the river’s watery embrace, teasingly urging her to join the high school’s junior varsity swim team.

  Three weeks ago, she hadn’t imagined she would fall in love with that boy—a Pierce, a college freshman, the neighbor her Uncle Mark forbade her to see.

  Three nights ago, she hadn’t dared dream Tucker would meet her at Kissing Rock, the boulder within the part of the river that straddled their lands, and present her with a necklace carrying a white, quarter-sized stone pendant to signify his promise to love her forever and to fulfill her dream of raising a family in Safe Haven someday.

  According to Miwok legend, Kissing Rock guaranteed the wishes shared between lovers would come true. So she’d believed Tucker. She’d believed the family feud between the Yants and the Pierces would never, ever, ever tear them apart.

  Tonight, after she’d received news she’d made the swim team, they’d planned a meeting to celebrate. At least, they were supposed to have met. Three hours ago. Tucker hadn’t shown. Now, with her heart racing like the rushing river, Bailey crossed the cobbled rapids onto Pierce land, thinking only of calming her fears and holding Tucker close.

  The ten-foot-tall door stood like a sentinel guarding the Pierce estate. An owl hoo-hooed in the tree tops that cloaked the porch’s shingled awning. Leaves reflected the bright orange globe that hung overhead. Branches snapped, bushes shook their fronds, something small scurried about the corner of the porch—all loud enough to rake nails down her chalkboard nerves.

  Her first knock barely rattled the front door. Because of the feud, her uncle had forbidden her from associating with the Pierces. She’d never met Tucker’s father in person…

  Whether caused by the trek through the water or nerves, she wiped her slick palms across her dry shirt but couldn’t rid the tackiness. She glanced behind her to the naked driveway. Tucker usually parked his truck there, the oil stain as glassy as she imagined her moist eyes. Had he parked his car inside the garage?

  Again, she knocked. Harder this time, until the pain in her knuckles breached the pain in her chest. She’d already peeked inside Tucker’s bedroom window and saw his backpack was missing, too. So was his letterman jacket. The one they’d used as a pillow for their heads when they’d laid on the Rock.

  She knocked a third time, the force sending the little rodent into hiding.

  From inside the house, light footsteps echoed when she expected a heavy crack, crack, crack on the hardwood floors.

  A dark haired man with stark blue eyes opened the door and held her stare. Tucker’s image thirty years in the future stared back.

  “Mr. Pierce, I’m—”

  “I know who you are. And I know what you think you are to my boy.”

  His terse words made her want to scamper away with that little mouse. Tucker must have told his father about their relationship—but why? She swallowed the fear and focused on her joy. Tucker had revealed their friendship! He wouldn’t have, unless he’d been ready to shout his love for her to the world. Had she given him the same courage? “Is Tucker here?”

  Mr. Pierce sneered. “No.”

  “Ah—I haven’t heard from him in a couple of days and I was wondering if—”

  “I can see you’re worried.” He eased the door half way closed. “Don’t be. He doesn’t need your type in his life. Not anymore.”

  Her type? She reeled back and gaped. Tucker had promised not to let the family feud come between them, but his father obviously wasn’t ready to let go of his undeserved rancor. Since the California Gold Rush, Copper Mountain and the division of land ownership had jabbed a thorn between the Yants and the Pierces. Frowning, she turned, not willing to let herself be poisoned by Mr. Pierce’s hatred. She’d go home and wait for Tucker to call…

  “Tucker’s gone.”

  Mr. Pierce’s words stopped her forward motions. Stopped her pulse as her chest clenched. She glared over her shoulder.

  “Left us both. Off to college and out of this town. Better you know that truth now. He got what he wanted and what he wanted from you was never about love.”

  Bailey froze at the man’s implication she’d had sex with Tucker when she hadn’t. Heat rolled over her face in angry waves, but her denial was swift. Mr. Pierce’s claim was a lie. But Tucker… Tucker hadn’t talked to her in three days. He hadn’t met her at the Rock. His truck was gone. His clothes… Had he abandoned her, just like her mother had, leaving her with an uncle the same day she’d first met Tucker?

  Heart pounding, she staggered backward and almost fell off the single slick step.

  “Tucker’s not coming back anytime soon. He’s moved on. Best you do the same and forget about him.” The door slammed shut.

  Somehow, she managed to make her way home. For days, she waited. Weeks. Until finally, she wished she’d never met Tucker Pierce. Wished she’d drowned that day in the river. Wished she’d never given her heart to a boy who’d never planned on keeping his promise.

  Chapter One

  A gunshot thundered through Miwok Canyon and Bailey Yant's breath fled her lungs like startled sparrows from a threat. A threat, like her decade-old memory of Tucker Pierce, she couldn’t escape. The blast came from the direction of his family’s property, jarring loose his promise to make her dreams come true. Instead, he’d left her shattered.

  She clutched the wire roll and pliers to her chest. She’d been using the tools to repair a slice in the chain link that surrounded Safe Haven Tiger Preserve. She narrowed her eyes at the Pierce’s side of the Cosumnes River. Unfortunately, the hunting reserve abutted her sanctuary. And as the blast faded, unlike their opposing agendas, she walked the fence line—bending, crouching, swimming through brush in search of openings through which one of her tigers could escape. As of late, someone—she suspected Old Man Pierce, Tucker’s father—had targeted her refuge by slicing random holes in her fence. Although, the only proof she had was booted footprints stamped in the muddied earth.

  Two month ago, after she’d filed a restraining order against Pierce Sr. for nearly running her off Crooked Bridge road, he’d warned her in arbitration: “A cat on my property is a dead cat. And I’ve set the bounty high.”

  Only no tiger had ever breached her containment.

  Soon after was when the trouble with Old Man Pierce began all over again. He upped his vigilance to claim her lands by threatening to shut down her tiger preserve. Copper Mountain, the one her prized tiger was named after, literally loomed over her daily—a harmless reminder of land she’d never have.

  Still, Pierce land teased her tigers, teased her mind to fondle the reason for Tucker’s disappearance ten years passing had yet to reveal, teased her heart to crack open and replace icy numbness with smoldering embers just like he had tempted her with promises of forbidden love.

  With determined steps, she worked her way along the river and, eventually, found her feet planted on Kissing Rock adjacent to the secluded riverfront. The slab promised to transform lovers’ dreams into reality, but she didn’t believe in fairy
tale wishes once held by childish whims. Similar to the creek at her feet that lapped deep groves in the peppered-colored rock and eroded petroglyphs depicting long-ago lovers, time had eaten away her dreams of again finding love. Of family.

  Downturned lips joined her lowered head and a few blond tendrils landed on her shoulders. Shoulders she instantly jerked upright. She tightened her tummy to stiffen her spine.

  More than a year had lapsed since her husband, Jesse, had passed. She shouldn’t be thinking about Tucker, but in the deep recesses of her mind she’d never quite forgotten him.

  “Leave the past. Live for today,” Jesse had often said, but now that he was gone, all she had were her memories.

  Jesse had taught her to laugh again. He helped her to forget Tucker. He taught her how to mend fences and drive a tractor and stand tall along with her uncle when Old Man Pierce had falsely accused her uncle with zoning litigation. And just when the weight in her heart was eased by talks of adding a child to their marriage?

  Jesse had died along with the laughter.

  Her breath hitched at the dream, the image of family that had dangled right in front of her only to be snatched away. Four months ago, near the first anniversary of Jesse’s death, Uncle Mark had also passed, making her sole owner of the preserve.

  Complete control over the safety of the preserve would ensure the future of the Bengal breeding program. Not wasting energy wondering about a summer crush she hadn’t seen in a decade. Not dwelling on some silly folklore scribble that couldn’t possibly be true. Not pausing when her walls had to remain secure. Not letting her gaze drift to the opposing property in hopes of glimpsing the man she’d once loved, but who’d changed his mind about loving her.

  No matter, she’d forge her own path.

  Bailey…

  She swiveled, attempting to locate the voice, until she came full circle. Banking the river on both sides, alders linked limbs with cottonwood trees and formed a dense green fortress that left her encircled by memories she couldn’t escape any easier than she could outrun the wild scent of Dogwood blossoms riding the breeze.

  But regardless of how busy she kept her hands, the memory of Tucker still shook her to the bones, to the marrow, to the vessels that led to her mind and heart.

  Perspiration, or at least that’s what she told herself the moisture was, cascaded down her cheek. She used the bottom of her shirt to blot away the beads. She’d already allowed the daily dose of memories to hog enough of her day. Tucker was gone for good, just like Jesse and Uncle Mark.

  She glanced up and down the river to the taut fence. Her morning walk confirmed the sanctuary was nothing less than secure. Chain link and razor wire wrapped around the entire preserve, weaving through the brush and limbs and the high water line of the riverside. No one could break through her walls. A quick dip in the cool stream would soothe her exterior, her tight back, her tender fingertips, her sun-pinked shoulders.

  With a sigh, she dropped her backpack and tools to the ground beside Kissing Rock. Two minutes later, she was bootless, nothing on her bare skin but a cotton tee shirt and panties—

  A hunter emerged from the cottonwood veil on the Pierce’s side of the river, sending white motes to fall like summer snow into the water.

  She jolted to a halt.

  Blue jeans hugged his tight waist. An unbuttoned long sleeved shirt hung from broad shoulders and exposed a white undershirt below. His jaw line and high cheekbones boasted European masculine features.

  Features that had her shirt perking up like she’d slipped a pebble in each side of her sports bra. With the sun peeping over Copper Mountain in the east, the hunter’s ball cap couldn’t quite shadow the cobalt eyes that had stabbed through her dreams too many times to count. “Tucker?” she murmured.

  No. Can’t be. He’s an illusion. Like the wind whispering your name.

  Several times, she blinked but pinching her eyes didn’t erase the image of a mature Tucker, one who’d transformed from a whip to a mighty Oak, and a man who greatly resembled a younger version of Old Man Pierce.

  Tucker held his head high and his wide stance boasted an assuredness, a grounding presence, that hadn’t graced the adolescent who’d seated his roots in her soul.

  Suddenly, her tomboy legs morphed to tree-limbs. She swayed with the gentle wind that transformed her strength, ability, and self-sufficient nature into that helpless girl Tucker rescued from the shadowy waters. Without denial, her body registered her first love even if he’d also been the same person who’d kept her cemented in her inescapable past.

  She threw back her shoulders, making her five-foot-four height appear five-foot-six. She didn’t need anyone but herself to make her happy. Nothing stood in her way of dating again and finding happiness. Of fulfilling her dreams with someone other than the man who’d betrayed her trust.

  “…your tiger,” he called over the river’s purr.

  Her chin quivered at his baritone yet business-like manner and she bit her lip. What had she expected? Words of apology and love? Tucker had moved on a decade ago, no matter how badly her ears still craved his endearments wafting warms puffs of air against her neck. By now, he probably had a family of his own… She glanced at her clothes stuffed in her backpack and, although he’d seen her in her bikini, much less than she wore now, she held her ground. How many times had he stood beside the river and watched her from afar? Once, twice?

  As many times as she’d wished he’d gazed upon her with eyes that bore into her tough exterior and tempted her heart, her trust, her words of forgiveness, so she could leave her imprisoned past?

  His gaze found hers and held.

  Corkscrewed into her heart until her chest hurt. Smoothing her chin with her palm to quiet the quivers spidering across her face, she raised her brows and expected him to say more.

  But he only stared.

  She lifted a palm, a subtle wave before she dropped her arm to rest at her bare thigh. What could she say to him? Hello? How have you been? Too many questions riddled her mind to settle on a single syllable.

  Pointing upstream, he repeated, “It’s important we talk… I’ve seen…tiger.”

  If what he needed to discuss caused him concern, why hadn’t he crossed the river or driven to the preserve? They were adults and she didn’t have any problems with Tucker, only his father.

  No matter… Most likely he’d seen some of her tigers housed in the sanctuary. Because of their natural instincts to hunt large game, they slinked along the north side of the property to stalk deer that paused where the gentle slope led to the water’s edge. But bridging their past with small talk?

  She didn’t want chit chat. She wanted answers, she wanted justice, she wanted the resolution she promised herself she’d never stir up, but couldn’t let go. Like their forbidden relationship, those feelings were better left undisturbed. Only seeing Tucker voided all warnings of caution she’d erected. She waved him over to her side. “We can talk over here.”

  He glanced at his boot that nudged something too small to make out from forty feet away.

  He seemed uncomfortable. Why? Guilt over how he’d treated her? Or because he’d come at his father’s instruction, to threaten her to stay on her side of the river—a typical Pierce Sr. MO?

  Tucker lifted his head, adjusted the gun strapped to his shoulder, and then cupped his mouth to project his voice. “I spotted one of your tigers on my property. Don’t do anything rash. Give me a chance to find—”

  Her heart lurched into her throat and pounded in her ears, causing Tucker’s remaining words to drift away along with the fallen leaves atop the current. She jumped off of Kissing Rock and sank into the silty sand up to her ankles. She burst into a trot, stumbled over a cobble and landed two feet from the shoreline.

  The late spring melt rippled across submerged boulders, sending a lulling resonance into the treetops, but she focused on a mark in the muddied riverbank, a mark that belied the tranquility, a mark she’d somehow missed before that sent a stab
of betrayal straight to her stomach and twisted into a queasy knot.

  The five-inch paw print, the left front missing an outer toe, confirmed her prized male Copper had escaped the safety of the sanctuary. His trail disappeared into the water.

  Nausea wormed through her tummy. With narrowed gaze, she glared at the opposite bank, the Pierce’s side staked with Trespassers Shot on Sight signs. How could Copper have left her care? Unless…

  Poachers. Had Old Man Pierce purposefully targeted her cats with the intent of closing down the sanctuary to claim her family’s lands?

  Her pulse ratcheted up until heat filled her face. She scanned the thick branches that swung over the river, searching for a glimpse of orange fur among the shadows, but Tucker’s movement pulled her attention his way. She considered how his hand clasped on his gun’s strap conflicted with the compassion he’d had for her uncle’s preserve. Back then, he hadn’t agreed with his father’s sport hunting practices, but had he changed? “Don’t shoot him!”

  Tucker’s glare found hers and his blue eyes darkened in the same way they had the night he’d turned from their last kiss and faded into midnight’s shadows never to be seen until now. But his eyes then, like now, held something she couldn’t define.

  She quickened her pace and left a trail of size seven footprints in the red mud. Ignoring Tucker’s shouts from behind, she grabbed her backpack and lifted out her pants. Quickly, she retrieved her cell from the front pocket and called her ranch hand who’d worked the preserve since before she’d been born. “Raymond, Copper is on Pierce land.”

  “W-what? How can you be sure he’s crossed the river?”

  Her fingers tightened on the phone. “Tucker’s home. He spotted the cat.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The Rock.”

  “Be there in twenty. You stay put, Bailey,” Raymond snapped out. “The future of the preserve hinges on Copper’s safe return.”