PART ONE
 

The brisk fall wind whipped by as the dark-haired young man spurred his horse onward, the coolness of it soothing his heated cheeks.  An expression of grim determination, underlied by a very personal anguish, had etched itself across his handsome face, his
beautiful blue eyes troubled beyond all reasonable measure.

Why did things like this always happen to him?  Why couldn't he be more like Sean, or even Jeremy for that matter?  Clay knew not where he was riding, only that the wind in
his face and the steady movement of the warm animal beneath him was like a balm to his wounded soul.  Well, from now on his heart was dead set against ever extending itself, making him vulnerable in the process.  First Vivian, now Lacey.  His taste in women had only gotten worse.  His father had been wrong when he said that women are a lot like horses.  The horses were much more dependable, more loyal.

Oh, how he wished he had been graced with Sean's striking good looks and magnetic personality, or Jeremy's golden ability to persuade and set women at ease.  Vivian had been right that night at dinner, he would be the one left in the middle.  But when he remembered that day by the river, well, before Sean arrived...he started to become aroused when he
thought of Vivian's delicate mouth mating with his, the sweet taste of her.  Not his first kiss in practice, but the first for him actually feel anything serious for a woman.  It wasn't Sean's fault really, but Clay sometimes felt like resorting to that little deception within his mind to assauge his loneliness.

But Lacey was the last straw.  He had just began to feel, relate towards another woman again, but all of his hopes had been dashed when he had walked into the stables.  There was Lacey in the arms of another man, their mouths locked together in a passionate kiss.  For a split second, Clay would have done anything to have been that faceless man with a beautiful woman in his arms, responding willingly to his carress.  From now on, Clay
promised himself he would stay involved with the horses, keep his mind on his chosen profession.

As he rode swiftly along one of the woodland trails that wended its way through the darkening forest, he never once feared he would get lost.  Those paths were second nature to him, having grown up in the area.  He slowed the horse as he slowed his thoughts, not wanting to return home knowing that the embarrassment must be written in his expression, like so many words etched across his face.  But he couldn't remain out here all night
exposed to the elements.

Clay halted his progress at a small stream that marked a boundary to the Logan farm.  His best bet was to ride up to the barn and stay in the loft for the night.  His mount drank from the bubbling creek as he sat down next to it to contemplate his next move.  Should I talk to Pa?
Nah, he wouldn't understand.  He eliminated the possibility of discussing his despair with Sean or Jeremy; they never could see eye to eye.

A thought came flittering back into his consciousness.  The night all three brothers went into Louisville to visit, well, he wasn't sure visit was the right word, some female entertainment for the evening.  Back in May, when the whole family had travel to attend the Derby races, Jeremy had expressed an interest in one of the more famous brothels, one with quite the reputation.  Sean wasn't averse, and Clay just followed along like he always did, not wanting to seem out of place.  To tell the truth, Clay had been a little nervous, a frightened sort of
nervousness that increased as their party arrived at the bordello.

He had never, you know, been with a woman, but he die and rot in Hell before he'd ever admit that to either one of his brothers.  Jeremy was two years younger than Clay, but was more worldly than Clay was comfortable with.  When they entered the establishment, Clay sucked in a deep breath as he observed the beautiful women who paraded around in various states of undress.
Sean and Jeremy soon struck up "conversations" with a couple of the ladies of the evening.  A lovely blond came over and joined Clay on the couch, trying to engage him in a somewhat lascivious and tawdry conversation.  Rose, the girl's name, slid a small, delicate hand up Clay's well-muscled thigh, and he thought he was about to jump up off the divan and run as fast as he could in the opposite direction.

Something about this just didn't appeal to his inner sense of romanticism.  Other men might be able to conduct affairs with women they hardly knew, but somehow Clay wanted his first time at making love to be, well, special.  As soon as his two brothers retreated with their lady friends upstairs, Clay extricated himself from Rose's grasp and left to wander the city for hours that night.  No
one seemed to question his whereabouts that night.

A slight rustle brought Clay out of his reverie, and his startled gaze swept the moonlit field that bordered the stream.  He shook his head, as to shake off something that had to be a figment of his overactive imagination.  Pa had always said that even though Clay tended to
have the most mercurial temperament of his four children, God had seen fit to make Clay very intelligent and creative.  Of course, when he was a child, Clay's creative streak got him into a lot of trouble.

There it was again, that rustle.  Then whispery voices drifted on the breeze, two people's, he was sure of it.  He crouched down close to the bank of the creek and waited.  A few seconds later, two dark shadows backlit by the full moon that shown brightly overhead crept across the green field in front of him.  One was leading a horse, a white one. Oh my god, they've got the Andalusian...

Clay sprung up on his horse's back and urged him forward.   He was almost on top of them before the two noticed his presence.  One shadow took off in the woods on foot, but the shadow leading the horse lept up on the pure white stallion and took off.  Clay started out after the thief in hot pursuit, and his horse was slowly gaining ground due to Clay's expert riding ability.   They were nearing the main house and the stables, so time was of the essence. His horse gained enough ground to pull along side the Andalusian, and Clay did a very stupid thing.

He jumped off his horse and tackled the rider-thief, knocking both of them to the ground.  He landed with a uuumph on top of the thief, who rabbit-punched him the ribs.  Clay groaned with the pain that had been inflicted, along with the fact that the wind had been knocked out of him as he fallen to the ground.  The thief cocked his arm back and tried to punch Clay again, but Clay's reflexes were too fast and he pinioned the thief's
hand behind his back so tight, Clay could have broken the other man's arm.  Clay held his prisoner there, being the bigger of the two men, and with his other hand, jerked the thief to his feet.

Clay dragged the shadow back to the main house, unmindful of waking the entire family in the process.  Ned came downstairs dressed only in his trousers and an unbuttoned shirt, the rest of the Logans joined him momentarily.  Clay shoved the shadow roughly into the
study, where Ned and Sean were waiting.  Lexy and Alice waited with Jeremy on the stairs.

"Pa, I was coming home, and this guy was trying to steal the Andalusian out of the west field, along with another fella, but he got away," Clay panted.

"Good job, Clay," responded Ned, then he turned his iron blue gaze on the perpetrator.

"What do you have to say for yourself?  Horse-thievin's a serious crime in these parts."

 The shadow said nothing.

"Do you not have anything to say in your defense?"

The shadow said nothing.

Sean walked over to wear the shadow was standing, hands tied behind his back.  Abruptly he grasped the edge of the black mask the dark figure wore, at the same
time whipping the dark brimmed hat off the thief's head.  Clay drew in a shocked breath, as did his older brother and his father.  He couldn't believe what he saw...

A beautiful girl stood before them, long rich raven hair bound up in a sensible braid that had tumbled down from the hat.  Sparkling violet eyes stared defiantly back at the Logan men, almost challenging them as if they had no right to hold her there for interrogation.  Her pale
skin was smudged with dirt and slightly bruised from the rough tumble off the back of the white stallion.

Ned caught himself, and asked one more time, now extremely impatient with this obstinate slip of a girl, "I'll give you one more chance.  Who are you and why were you trying to steal my horse?"

Her eyes glittered in stubborn defiance.  "Name's Moira Donnelly, and you cain't steal what you already own."