by Mindy Neff
Dear God, they’d been bluffing. Out of grief. Madison stepped forward then, put her hand on Lila’s mink-covered arm. “Please come in out of the cold,” she said gently, then gave Brice a defiant look that fairly dared him to try and overrule her.
They went inside, sat down. No one bothered to remove their coats as it was chilly in the room. Maddie had the warmth of her daughter to ward off the cold.
Brice put another log on the fire, then came to sit by Maddie, presenting a united front. Her heart swelled, and she fell a little more in love with him, if that were possible.
“Mr. Covington, you mentioned the name Darrell—”
“The private investigator we hired. He came out with the United Parcel man, told us you matched the picture we’d provided. The child appeared the right age for the term of your pregnancy.”
“And what gave you the impression I’d had a boy?”
“Darrell said the child was wrapped in a blue blanket.”
Maddie remembered the day Ken had shown up with a trainee. And she remembered Brice coming out on the porch, with Abbe swaddled in a blue blanket, the first one he’d snatched after changing her diaper.
Curious, though, that this Darrell person hadn’t bothered to ask Ken about Abbe. “How did he find me?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t ask that question. I was merely interested in the bottom line, the outcome.”
“To take away my baby?”
Lila had the grace to look ashamed, and Maddie realized she was the one to appeal to—mother to mother.
“Mrs. Covington, I’m sorry for the loss of your son. I didn’t know him, but I’m sure he was a fine young man and you loved him very much. Can’t you see, though, that your threats put me in the same position? Of losing my child?”
“I didn’t think. When I found record of Stephen donating sperm, all I could focus on was that a part of him would still live on, and that if I could get that piece back, his baby, it would ease the loss of not having Stephen with us anymore.”
“Stephen was the last of our blood,” Winslow added. “Our only hope to carry on the family name.”
“You don’t need a DNA match to carry on a name,” Brice said quietly.
Maddie looked at him. Lord he was a special man. She knew he loved Abbe and that he would always consider her a DeWitt.
And because of his generosity, she could be generous, too. Lila and Winslow Covington were racked with grief, and they’d jumped on any means to assuage their pain. The product of their son’s donated sperm could give them peace.
She rose with Abbe in her arms. “Would you like to hold her?”
The look on Lila’s face was so full of hope and joy it nearly brought Maddie to tears.
“Oh, may I?”
Carefully she transferred the baby to Lila’s arms. Winslow leaned in close, his features going soft as he thumbed the moisture from beneath his wife’s eyes, then rested his gaze on Abbe.
“What did you name her?” Lila asked.
“Abigail. We call her Abbe.”
Lila smiled, stroked a gentle finger over Abbe’s downy soft cheek, smoothed the tiny, paper-thin fingernails. “What a beautiful name. What a beautiful little girl.” She looked up at Maddie. “I’m so sorry for the way we frightened you. We had no right to make horrible threats. I know you’ve given up your home and your business. We’d like to make it up to you.” She shot her husband a stern look. “Wouldn’t we, Winslow?”
“Of course, dear.”
Maddie shook her head. “There’s no need. My daughter is a gift more priceless than any amount of money.”
Abbe started to fuss, perhaps picking up on the thick emotions in the room, the new set of arms holding her.
Lila stood and gently placed the baby back in Madison’s arms, her hand lingering for a moment longer, her gaze clinging, searching for that visual likeness—a tie to her son.
And being a mother, understanding the profound love, unable to even think of the horror and pain of what it would be like to lose a child, Madison’s heart ached for Lila and Winslow Covington.
“I can’t replace your son, but I don’t want to keep your granddaughter from you. If you’re interested in being part-time grandparents, it would be wonderful for Abbe to get to know you.”
“Oh, Madison. You can’t know how those words make me feel. We would love to be part of her life, as much or as little as you’ll allow. And...well,” Lila lowered her voice, glanced to where Brice stood stiffly by the sofa, then looked back at Maddie. “I’m so glad to know that you’re settled, that you’ve found someone who loves both you and the baby.” She hesitated, her brows drawing together. “You are settled, aren’t you? Everything is okay between you and your husband?”
Now this was the sticky part. “Yes,” Maddie admitted. But for how long? Now that the threat was over, would he still welcome her to stay? And as what? A housekeeper who just happens to sleep with him.
Maddie wanted more. She wanted love.
Lila must have picked up on Maddie’s disquiet because the look in her eyes was woman-to-woman, the sort of look that speaks louder than words.
“We won’t push. But if you’re ever in need, we have an obscenely large home on the outskirts of Dallas. You and Abbe would want for nothing. And, well...I don’t want to overstep here, but I’m trying to let you know that you’re always welcome.” She pressed a card with their phone number in Maddie’s hand.
“Thank you.” The card burned in her hand and she glanced at Brice, wondering if he’d overheard the invitation. Wondering if he’d care. Wondering if he’d welcome the chance to get rid of her. Other than the slight frown, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
She looked back at Lila and said very softly, “I’m going to try really hard to make a go of it here.”
Lila nodded. “You’ll be a fine mother to our granddaughter.”
With a final lingering look, the Covingtons went down the porch steps arm in arm and got into their Cadillac.
When Maddie turned, Brice was already pulling on his gloves. He was wearing a new pair of jeans—she knew that because the hem was stacked on his boots, nearly dragging the ground around his boot heel. He didn’t have on his chaps today, just body-hugging denim, a wide belt with a silver buckle, a heavy, plaid flannel shirt and the requisite bandanna tied around his neck.
And of course his hat.
“You should wear a white hat,” she blurted.
He stepped closer to her, tilted his head, the intense look in his dark blue eyes making her shiver. “Why?”
“Because you’re one of the good guys.”
“Don’t be too sure of that. I wanted to take Covington apart with my bare hands.”
“I know. And that makes you a good guy.”
“Brawling on the porch?”
“No. Protecting. Caring.” She searched his gaze, willed him to give her an indication that he felt more, that he wanted her to stay, that things wouldn’t change now that the Covingtons were no longer a threat.
Kiss me, she wanted to say. Hold me.
But she didn’t utter either one of those pleas. She wouldn’t beg, had learned at an early age never to show that vulnerability. A kid who asked for too much was invariably sent away. And though she was no longer a child, the lesson was indelibly burned in her mind.
“Out here that’s standard. We protect our own.” Brice saw her wince, knew she’d expected more from him, something more personal, words that didn’t lump her and the baby in the same category as a distant neighbor or one of his cows.
But he couldn’t give her those words, couldn’t give her those assurances. Because if he did, he might sway her thinking. There was nothing keeping her here now. And he’d heard Lila Covington offering her a place to live.
A fancy city place, with city conveniences and city people to interact with. A lot more attractive than just the few families that made up their small community here, or the bitter winters and scorching summers.
It was only a matter of time before Madison realized that, only a matter of time before she left. And he didn’t know how to stop her. So he pulled back, insulating himself.
“I better get back to work.”
“You’re not wearing a coat.”
“I’ve been mucking stalls and feeding stock. A coat just gets in my way.” He wanted to reach out and touch her instead of having a ridiculous conversation about his apparel. To prevent himself from doing just that, he turned and headed for the door. Before he’d made it outside, though, the two-way base-unit radio crackled with static. Changing directions, he went into his office.
“This here’s Sully calling the Flying D. Come on back to me, over.”
Brice lifted the mike and pressed the transmit button. “Brice, here, Sully. What’s up.”
“Got us a hungry wolf attacking the cattle. Wily sucker. And sure as we go off tracking him, a storm’ll blow in and we’ll spill the herd. I figure we could use a couple more bodies to cover so we can scout him out.”
There were three men at the line camp, and it would take two of them to keep the cows from wandering—or spilling—if a storm came up. The animals would move right along with the wind if the cowhands didn’t keep them corralled. And it wasn’t wise to send only one man out tracking a wolf.
“I’ll bring Dan and Randy and be up there by nightfall.”
“Roger, boss. We’ll sit tight till we hear from you. You might check with the neighbors, too, see if any of their cattle are turning up dead. If he’s killing with any sort of pattern, maybe we can get a better fix on his location.”
“I’ll do that.” Brice replaced the mike. He could have just sent Dan and Randy, but this was the perfect excuse to get away from the ranch, to have some breathing room, to steel himself for the loneliness of when Madison left.
“Do you often have trouble with wolves getting your cows?” Madison asked.
Brice turned, not realizing she’d followed him into the office.
She motioned toward the two-way radio on the desk. “I heard your conversation with Sully.”
“There’s always the danger—even more so in the winter when it’s harder for them to come by food.”
“Is it dangerous? For you to go looking for the wolf, I mean.”
“Not when I’m the one holding the rifle.”
Moe wandered into the office, clutching his battered hat in his hand. “What’s the holdup? Thought you was givin’ the bulls a snack, and when I didn’t see hide nor hair of ya, I ’bout decided some critter’d had you for a snack.”
“Naw. I’m in one piece.” Bodily. He couldn’t say as much for his heart. “We’ve lost a few head of beef to the wolves, though.”
“Best we get to trackin’ then.”
Madison whirled into action. “You’ll need hot coffee, some food supplies. How long will you be gone?”
“A couple days.”
“I’ll put some things together for you.”
“There’s a cabin out where we’re going. And it’s fully stocked.”
“Then I’ll at least send you with a thermos of coffee. And some of my bread.”
Brice opened his mouth to tell her not to bother, but she’d already bustled out of the room. And why shouldn’t she bother? She was still his housekeeper.
And his wife.
Damn it. He ran a hand over the back of his neck feeling weary, not wanting to leave, yet desperate to get away. He was a mess. He couldn’t even make up his mind or get his thoughts to march in a straight line
“Don’t know why yer kickin’ up a ruckus over coffee and carrot bread. It’ll taste mighty fine after that cold ride. Be a treat for Sully and Luke.”
“I guess I’m not used to somebody fussing.”
“Humph.” Moe’s shrewd gaze fastened onto Brice, making him squirm. “Didn’t think it was fussin’ when Lavina cooked up vittles to go.”
The older man saw more than Brice wanted him to. “You’re gnawing at a carcass that’s been picked clean, Bertelli. As an employer, I’m worried about Madison being here at the ranch on her own.”
“An employer? She’s yer wife, boy, or did ya forget? And what the Sam Hill does stayin’ by herself have to do with fixin’ a jug of coffee?”
“She’s only my temporary wife.”
“Don’t act temporary to me. ’Specially seein’ as how you’re sharin’ that bedroom with her.”
The censure in Moe’s voice was unmistakable, and Brice couldn’t evade or excuse. He felt like a horse thief who’d stolen something that wasn’t his to begin with.
He’d stolen moments with Madison.
But he wasn’t going to be dressed down in his own house, no matter how much he respected Moe Bertelli.
“I’m not the one who’ll leave. I’m part of this land. And you ought to know better than I do that women don’t stay.”
“Miss Maddie’s different. That girl’s got real deep feelings in her heart.”
“What makes you so sure? Seems to me you thought the same thing about Sharon. She left. And how’d you feel about my mother? You knew her better than me. You saw how she treated Dad. How she just left.”
“You can’t be judging everybody by the same dang fence post.”
“I’m being realistic. She comes from the city. Just like my mother did. Just like Sharon did. If she’d grown up on a sheep ranch in Australia or something, I might feel different. But she didn’t. And I don’t.” With each word he said, Moe’s expression got darker.
“Confound it, boy. Tryin’ to get through that thick skull of yours is enough to make a preacher cuss.”
Brice sighed, feeling weary. “I’m trying to protect my heart,” he admitted before he could stop himself.
“Maybe yer tryin’ too hard, and it don’t need protectin’.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He looked at his watch. “I’ve gotta go meet up with Sully before dark.”
“Then we best get to movin’.”
“Not we. I want you to stay here.”
Moe puffed out his chest. “Don’t think I’m too old to take you down a peg or two, boy. I’ll not stand for you treatin’ me with kid gloves.”
“I’m not.” And he truly meant it. Usually he had to be fairly inventive in his excuses to get Moe to stay at the ranch. This time, there was no subterfuge. “I need someone to stay with Madison and the baby. She’s not used to this life. If the power goes out, she wouldn’t know how to fire up the generator, and chances are she’s never been in a blizzard before. I couldn’t concentrate if I was worried about her and the baby being here alone in bad weather conditions.”
“Nobody said we was in for a blizzard,” Mo pointed out cagily. “I reckon that fence around your heart ain’t so sturdy after all. And that bein’ the case I’d be right proud to stay here and watch over your family.”
Brice’s gut clenched, and he didn’t trust himself to speak.
Your family.
God Almighty, he’d give anything if that were so.
14
He’d been gone nearly a week, stuck at the line camp because of a storm. It had been a miserable five days of trying to keep the herd together and hay on the ground.
They hadn’t seen any more signs of the wolf that had been stalking his cattle, and Brice knew he needed to get back to the ranch, yet a heavy reluctance assailed him. Would Madison still be there? Or had she decided to head back to the city, to take the Covingtons up on their offer? Although he’d checked in with Moe a couple of times, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to ask about her.
He was steeling himself for the emptiness, the pain.
Damn it, he’d sworn he wouldn’t let his heart get involved, wouldn’t go through that kind of despair again.
And he’d failed miserably.
He looked around him, noticing the elk tracks in the snow. He’d left before Dan and Randy, needing to be alone with his thoughts, to mask his emotions before he rode into the ranch. The men were probably only about ten mi
nutes behind him.
A different set of tracks caught his eye. Wolf tracks.
He pulled his rifle out of the scabbard and gave Samson a gentle nudge, following the trail that led along the base of the mountains. To his left was steep terrain dotted with lodgepole pines, their evergreen needles frosted with snow. To the right was vast, open prairie that gave way to gently rolling hills and deep gulches. In the distance he could see a ribbon of asphalt, the main highway leading into town that Leonard must have plowed. All the neighbors pitched in to keep the roads cleared, but Leonard was the most diligent.
The animal tracks made a sudden zigzag, then veered to the right. “Come on Samson. Let’s see what this sucker’s up to.”
He tugged at the brim of his hat and hunched his shoulders beneath his coat. The smell of pine and clean air mixed with the scents of leather and horse. Familiar smells, peaceful, but it was damned cold out here.
The wolf tracks disappeared over the top of a rise, and Brice dismounted, gripping his rifle in a gloved hand. The snow was deeper here, but he trudged through, determined to catch sight of that wolf.
He realized his mistake at the last minute. This wasn’t the crest of a hill. It was a snowdrift at the edge of a narrow gully.
He knew better.
The rock beneath his boot heel gave out and it was too late to back away to safety. The ground shifted, giving beneath his weight. The force of his body sliding downward dislodged the snow, creating a small avalanche.
The rifle flew from his hand, and he tumbled. His shoulder banged against unforgiving rock. His hat went sailing. His boots met him, then vanished from sight as he somersaulted down the steep incline.
Time moved in slow motion—the adage about a person’s life flashing before their eyes was proved to him in spades. The main part of his life he saw was the part with Madison. And he was aware of the pain of never seeing her and the baby again.
