The Cedar Tree (Love Is Not Enough) Read Online Free PDF

something. "You're Gil?"
    "I see I'm a big disappointment."
    She frowned, gesturing at the dog's body. "You just killed the best dog I ever had."
    "I really am sorry."
    She nudged her mare into a walk.
    He idled along with her for a hundred feet. "You never said if I was a big disappointment."
    She rolled her eyes. "I'm very disappointed that you killed my dog."
    "I mean, other than that."
    She stopped the horse again. "You have got to be kidding."
    "No."
    She shook her head disgustedly and moved on. "Go away."
    A moment later, he followed. She was crying again.
    "I'd like to make it up to you."
    She wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her bloody shirt then glared at him. "Then go up the road there to the end of it and stop following along behind me."
    But he didn't pull away. Fifty feet later, he cleared his throat. "Since you know my name, I think I ought to know yours."
    "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"
    His reckless grin had never failed to charm. He flashed it at her. "If you'll give me your phone number, too."
    Her wet eyes narrowed. "You are so full of yourself. I wouldn't give you my phone number if you were the last man alive."
    He paused, a little bewildered by her hostility. "That's pretty cold."
    She stopped her mare. "You killed my dog, you idiot," she exclaimed.
    He held her gaze. "I really prefer moron."
    She gave an offended toss of her head and nudged her mare forward.
    He followed. "C'mon. Tell me your name."
    Her small chin with its hint of a cleft jutted, and she turned to glare at him. "I'm Katie Campbell, I've already got a boyfriend, and I'm definitely not interested in you, so leave me alone."
    He rolled along beside her in silence for a long moment, surprised by the depth of his disappointment. "You sure you don't want me to take the dog?" he asked, finally.
    "I've got him."
    He reluctantly pulled away. At the end of the graveled road, he found a battered tin mailbox with a terse 'Campbell' painted on the side, faded by the weather of many years. He pulled into the driveway between an old, two-storied ranch house with a wide porch, and a peak-roofed grey barn where a horse stood tied to a hitch rail.
    A wiry man bent over the bay gelding's near back hoof, holding it between his knees while he nailed on a horseshoe. Looking up at his approach, the man dropped the hoof. Slowly he straightened, pulling a pained face. He pushed his hat back to wipe his sweating face on the sleeve of his shirt.
    "You've got to be Roy Howard's kid. You look just like him." Pulling off his leather gloves, the wiry man poked them into the back pocket of his jeans, extending his rough hand. "Jon Campbell."
    The other man was grinning, but there was an edge of…something…in his direct gaze.
    He shook the older man's hand. "Gil Howard." The guy almost looked like he had a problem with him, but…how could he? He didn't even know about the dog yet.
    "Gene called. Says you're needin' a horse." Jon's tone sounded friendly enough.
    He shrugged. "Yeah." He rubbed the gelding's glossy shoulder. "What's his name?"
    "My girl names everything around here. She calls him Lucky."
    He moved along the horse and ran his hand down Lucky's back leg, lifting his newly shod hoof. The horse made no objection. He dropped it then moved around to the other side.
    "I think I met your daughter down the road." He eyed Jon over the horse's back. "Pretty blonde?"
    Jon nodded.
    "I hit her dog with my truck."
    The other man's weathered face reflected dismay. "Kill him?"
    "Yeah."
    "Where's she at?"
    He nodded over his shoulder toward Katie, still a dot on the road down the hill. "She's pretty upset at me. Wouldn't let me carry the dog back."
    He finished nailing on Lucky's last shoe himself as Katie walked her horse into the yard. Her dad met her and lifted the dog from before her on the saddle. The two of them exchanged words and Katie angrily jerked her head toward him where he filed the horseshoe nails he'd just clinched onto the hoof. Then she