by Rita Hestand
"I know." Abby said, all the anger flowing away from her now. Somehow, the very fact that she knew Clint would stand by her reassured her of the man he was, the man she had loved. "Of course you would have stood by me. I knew that. But it's not what I wanted. And I'm sure you never once suspected. I knew you were using me, but I had these young girl notions in my head that if I gave you my all, you'd see it and love me, too. You didn't."
He started to move toward her, and she threw her hands out to stay him. "No—please don't patronize me now. It's too late."
Tears came down now, and Clint stood up. He moved toward her, trying to take her into his arms, but Abby moved away. "I'm sorry. It's too late. For both of us. But now the hurt's over. I'm over you. Once and for all. I'm Clay's mother, and legally, he's nothing to you. I didn't give him your name, Clint."
"You—" Clint looked stricken. He moved away, too. He leaned against the kitchen counter now, obviously stunned by her confession. "Then who's–"
"I didn't give him any man's name when I went to the doctor. I told them I made a mistake and got pregnant. It happens a lot these days. They don't question much anymore. Women have children alone these days, and raise their children without shame. He's a Martin."
"And that's a lie." Clint's words whistled through his teeth at her.
"Until I marry, he's a Martin," Abby said quietly.
"Until you mar—" Clint's face screwed up into a frown. "You mean you're going to marry this John whatever his name is?"
Abby swallowed hard. "Maybe, I don't know yet. He's asked me."
Clint sank into the kitchen chair and tipped his hat back. Abby didn't want to look at him, didn't want to face him. She couldn't face him. Her entire body was trembling with an unleashed fury of emotions.
But when she raised her gaze to his, she was stunned to see the dejection on Clint's face, something she had never seen in him. It was so real, she wanted to reach out and comfort him one more time. But she resisted, knowing just how dangerous that could be. Comforting Clint had gotten her pregnant and taught her an important lesson in life. She wasn't about to feel sorry for a man again.
"I'm sorry, Clint. But that's the end of it."
"End of it. You announce I have a son. A three year old son, and then tell me, that's that. I have no rights whatsoever?"
Abby looked him in the eye with all her courage. "I'm sorry, Clint. That's the way it has to be, Clint. Not for your sake, but for his."
"I can't accept that, Abby. I won't."
"You'll have to."
"No. I won't. Has he been told who his father is?" Clint watched her closely.
Abby felt a stab of pain in her heart. Momentary panic swept through her. Surely Clint wouldn't tell Clay. Surely he wouldn't hurt his own son that way. She knew that this was the lowest Clint could possibly stoop to. "He thinks his father's dead."
"Dead!"
Abby stood up again, this time turning away, looking out the window. "I'm sorry, Clint. I killed you in my heart the day I realized you weren't coming after me. Weren't even going to apologize for using me. I knew you didn't love me, Clint. That part, I'll own up to. It was as much my fault as yours. But when you couldn't even apologize to me, or even care what happened to me, that killed what I felt for you."
"You left town the next week." Clint staggered his words as though thinking before speaking. "I didn't plan for that to happen, Abby. It took me by surprise as much as you. I wasn't sure you'd really want me to come after you. Besides, how could I have come after you? I didn't know where you went."
"You could have asked."
"I did!"
Abby jerked about to face him now, stunned.
"Your father wouldn't tell me. I did ask. I came over, once, your father said you'd left. It wasn't as though I was welcome, except by your mother. He wouldn't tell me where you'd gone. Said it was best to leave you alone." Clint glared at her. "He wouldn't tell me anything more. He got real stand-offish and wouldn't say another word about you."
"I gave you a week. When I left, I didn't know I was pregnant. By the time I realized it, it was too late. I was too ashamed to come home. Too ashamed to face you, too. I wasn't as brave as some people thought. I couldn't come home. I wrote my parents from my grandparent's house. I stayed with them until he was born. But I did know I had to get away from you. I had loved you all that time, and not once had you taken into consideration my feelings. Not once. Well, I learned my lesson the hard way, Clint. I won't listen to a sad luck story anymore. I won't be falling for any men who love other women. I listened to you talk about your women, and my heart broke every time. But I kept hoping. Until one day, I just ran out of hope."
A strange look crossed Clint's face. A look she didn't recognize. He swiped at his eyes and looked at her. She'd never seen him look so confused and bewildered. Sympathy swamped her, choking her words and thoughts.
"You have every right to be mad, every right to be hurt, Abby, I agree. But he's my son, too. You didn't do this single-handedly."
Abby shook her head. "You can't and won't make me feel guilty, Clint. Even though I share the blame with you. This is my life, Clint."
"What about him?"
Abby looked at him again. "Him?"
"Yes, Clay. What about how he might feel? What about the fact that you are robbing him of his father? How does that make you feel? A father that would love him, do for him."
"Very badly. But it can't be helped."
"Of course it can be helped. We can tell him, together."
"No." Abby stepped up to him now, bravely. Her son's mental health could be in danger if he found out this way. She wouldn't let anyone destroy his perfect little world.
"But this isn't fair, Abby. He's my only son. Maybe the only son I'll ever have. You can't just deny me."
Abby knew that to some degree Clint was right, that he at least deserved something. Her fair-minded ways began to eat at her heart.
"I've come home to make a decision about John and me. I'll be here until I do. You can see him, be friends with him, but that's all," Abby declared, wiping a tear away. "I'm sorry if this seems like harsh punishment. It's not meant to be. But under the circumstances, I can't let anyone tell him different."
"Friends. You want me to be friends with my son?"
"Please lower your voice, I don't want him to hear us," Abby cried.
Clint sank into the kitchen chair again, with a look of dejection that Abby had never before seen. Her heart ached for him, but she had to be strong, otherwise—
"I guess I deserve this, don't I?"
Abby looked straight at him, a tear falling down her cheek. "I don't know, Clint. But what's done is done. He thinks you died in the Rodeo. On a bull."
"God, you told him that?" Clint's face screwed up.
"It was close to the truth."
"Why didn't you just tell him the truth, that we were friends and we made a mistake . . ."
"You wanted me to tell him he was a mistake?" Abby gasped.
"Well—no, but. Damn, Abby."
Clint just sat there, not moving, not talking. Abby felt nervous again. What were they supposed to do now?
"I guess I better go." Clint shot to his feet, and didn't look at her.
Abby watched him with a strange fear gnawing at her. "Yeah, I guess you better."
"Is this John gonna be there tomorrow?"
"At the funeral?"
"Yeah," Clint voice belied his anger as he glanced at her.
"I doubt it, why?"
Clint looked her straight in the eyes, and something oddly familiar reached to her for a second, then was gone. "Because whoever you decide to marry is gonna be the father of my son, and he better be good. Goodnight, Abby."
Abby started to say something, then shut her mouth and followed him to the door. Clint didn't look back, but he hung his head as he walked slowly to his truck.
"’Night," she whispered, as more tears rolled down her cheek.
Chapter Three
&n
bsp; Clint's booted foot hit the dry ground long before the dust settled from his vehicle. He slammed the door, unmindful that the window rattled as though it might combust at any moment. He didn't run, he didn't walk, he moved like a man bent on self-destruction. He was unaware of his hands clenching and unclenching, or the tightening and bunching of his shoulders. His lips firmed into an aggravated stance.
"Well, bro, how'd the meeting go?" His oldest brother, Deke was sitting in the swing on the porch, watching him with keen-eyed interest.
"Fine, fine, everything's fine." Clint could barely keep his temper checked. His words were bit out like a man chewing bricks. He felt himself slowing to a stop as he mounted the porch steps as though all the steam finally escaped him. He was mad, weary, and defeated. He suddenly felt old and tired beyond his years. He readjusted his hat and glanced at all the turned out lights. Time didn't register, though. His mind wasn't on lights. His mind was on Abby and the surprise of his life, his son—a son he'd never known.
"Everyone gone to bed?" He somehow managed to ask trying to be polite.
"Yes." Deke eyed him closely. "It's one o'clock. So, what's up, bro, you must have really tied one on to be coming in this late? But you don't look drunk. In fact, you look about as sober as a man can look."
Clint smirked. "I'm cold sober. I almost wish I wasn't." Then when he realized what his brother said, he added. "I—I didn't know it was so late."
"Thought you'd be home before now. Get hung up somewhere?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Clint firmed his lips and looked away. He didn't need conversation right now. He needed to hit something. He needed to bang his head against a wall and make everything that happened tonight go away. But it wasn't going anywhere, and neither was he.
He glanced at his brother, aware that big brother had worried over him. "Sorry I didn't call. I ran into Sal and his wife. Had dinner with them. They have a new baby, you know." He didn't want to talk small talk, but he figured he wouldn't spill his guts to his brother who had enough responsibility on him now with his relatively new family.
Deke dropped his head and didn't stare at him anymore. Clint thanked him silently.
Clint tried to relax. He felt as though every muscle in his body were tensed for battle. He leaned against the porch railing, gripping it with his hand.
He heard Denver barking in the distance, and nearly choked on all his emotions. When had that old dog learned to howl like some lonesome coyote? Lonesome, dear God, that's exactly how he felt. Betrayed, lonesome, lost.
"I heard they had a kid. So, you been with them all evening?" Deke asked, still not looking at him, as though waiting.
The word kid sent a cold shiver through Clint. He hitched a boot on the railing, and shook his head. "No, I haven't been with them all this time. In fact, I left them pretty early on."
Deke waited then added. "Didn't figure you’d hang around the Association long. Did that go okay?"
"Yeah, it went okay. I just got bored after a bit." Clint fidgeted. "I ran into Abby."
"Abby Martin?" Deke questioned, glancing up at his brother with what looked like concern. "So she's back?"
"Yeah. Did you know about Ross?"
"No, not till this evening. Judy called and told me. Came as a real shock. Ross was in good shape, last I heard. Worked every day of his life. I guess the news hit you pretty hard, then."
"Yeah. And then some. Judy said he just keeled over with a heart attack while he was mending fences." Clint finally managed to look straight at his brother. He never could hide anything from Deke. Somehow Deke knew when something was amiss.
"So, is that what's got you so torn up?" Deke questioned. "I guess Abby's pretty upset, too?"
"Yeah, but she's taking it well. I should've been over there. Helping him."
Deke nodded. "Don't go blaming yourself for that. Ross brought a lot of it on himself, Clint, you know that. But—you're right, to an extent, we all should have been better neighbors. We shouldn't have let him down, no matter what we thought of Bud. But it's a little late to be worrying about what we should have done. If he hadn't gotten so damned stubborn a few years back when he hired Bud and wouldn't listen to anyone else, he'd of had our help. I reckon that's why we all sorta let him be. Ross was stubborn as a mule. He'd die before admitting a mistake."
Clint twirled his hat in his hands, his face finally breaking into a tortured glance. "He had his reasons, Deke."
"Oh?"
"Yeah," Clint said sliding his hat back in place, raising himself straight, and looking away. He dug his hands into his pockets, and looked out over the yard, wishing with all his heart he could start over in life – and start over with Abby. "Yeah. Did you know Abby's got a kid?"
"A kid. She married?"
"No."
"Then--"
"It's mine."
Deke shot to his feet. "What?" It wasn't the question so much as how he said it that had Clint wanting to crawl in a hole and stay there.
His tone held no consideration. Clint was taken aback until he realized his brother's concern caused that stern tone.
"At least by blood, anyway," Clint nearly choked out the words. Never in all his life had he felt so lost, so helplessly lost. And he could face Deke, not wanting to see the disapproval in his face. Travers men stood by their own, no matter what. Family came first, always. And dammit, he wanted his son here, where he belonged.
Deke came closer. "What does that mean—by blood? Either he's yours or he's not."
"It means she doesn't want any part of me. Or me to have any part of my son's life." Clint said, and stalked into the house in a choked voice.
Clint went straight to the kitchen, his nostrils filling with the aroma of fresh baked chocolate pie Emma had set on the table in a glass cake holder before going to bed. Without thinking, he cut into it. He poured himself a big glass of milk and downed it, then hacked into his pie with a vengeance. It was cold and fresh, and he hoped it would untie all the knots in his stomach. But there were no miracle cures for how he was feeling. He just needed to hit something—anything.
Deke followed him inside.
"Damn, Clint, how'd this happen?" Deke grabbed a glass and poured himself some milk too.
Clint laughed at the serious way his brother went for the milk. Whenever a Travers man was upset, he reached for the milk; not whiskey, not vodka, but milk. Their dad had taught them that milk was a "settler". He had told them, "It cures what ails you". They should be in commercials, his mind wandered aimlessly. Anything was better than thinking about the bleak future ahead of him now.
"It's a long story. Don't you think you better get to bed? You gotta full day tomorrow herding those cows to the south pasture."
Secretly he wished Deke would go to bed so he could sit and sort this all out for himself. He had some heavy thinking to do.
"Not when my brother's announcing something like this, I don't. Face it, little brother, even if the whole state of Texas came down on you right now, I'd be there for you. And you better know it. But, hellfire, Clint, what happened?" Deke took a chair, turned it backwards and straddled it in front of him. His face lined with real worry.
He obviously wasn't going anywhere until he heard the entire story.
Clint glanced at Deke, surprised to see no censure in his brother's serious face. No, there was only concern. He should have known his brother wouldn't show anything but deep-down concern for his well-being. Travers men were like that. Travers men. His son would someday be a Travers man. Would he be like this? Would he ever know this deep family commitment the Travers men shared?
Clint swallowed a lump in his throat. God, he loved his brother, his family. And up until today, his life. There was nothing like the feeling of family support. It never mattered how serious the problem, Travers men stuck together, through thick and thin. And this was pretty damned thin.
Clint tipped his hat back, and threw his long legs over the edge of the table, letting his boots dangle. "Remember when I got so tied
up with that Platt girl?"
"Yeah, I remember." Deke frowned, his voice filling with exasperation as though he were indulging him. Clint inwardly flinched because he hated thinking how adolescent it all seemed now.
"Well, I made a real big mistake, bro. One I'm not proud of, either."
Deke nodded. "Go on."
"One that's been burnin' at me for a while now. I was burnin' with jealousy that night I caught her with Steve. I knew Steve didn't love her. Hell, Steve didn't love anybody but himself. He was always trying to up me on something."
"Yeah I remember, I never wanted you hanging out with him in the first place."
Clint ignored the remark. "Hell, I knew she didn't love him, too. I just couldn't put it all together and see it, then. He got to my pride, I guess. I was seeing red. Anyway, to make a long story short, I sorta cried on Abby's shoulder that night."
"You mean you and Abby? That night?" Deke's face screwed up in a frown. "Oh, God, Clint, how could you do that to her? She was your best friend, like family." Deke stood up and paced. "I knew there was some kind of rift between the two of you, but you wouldn't talk about it. You been going along all this time letting it eat at you, haven't you? That's why you haven't looked at women for so long. Why didn't you tell me? I've been waiting for you to come to me and tell me, but I honestly thought it was the rodeo that had you down."
"I couldn't' come to you any longer brother. I grew up that night." Clint glanced at him and saw the same thing in his eyes that Clint was feeling, lost for words. "The next day I was so ashamed, I couldn't even talk to her about it. I mean, what could I say? I knew better. Thinking back on it, I can't imagine getting that carried away. Abby's always been so sweet, so understanding."
Deke nodded in agreement.
Clint put his hat on his knee. "I wanted to go to her, explain how sorry I was. Make things right with her. But how do you explain something like that, Deke?"
He looked at his brother, and saw the same question in his eyes.
"How do you make it right? She had every right to hate me. But I knew I couldn't explain such an action."
"Yeah." Deke sighed heavily. Deke eyed his brother closely, and looked him in the eye,
