She gave him a few pointers on ways to work out his anger in more productive ways.
By the time he left her office it was early evening and he was worn out. It had been a grueling thirty-six hours. But he felt better.
He went back to the ranch to find his brother Darin’s truck in the drive. What was he doing here?
When he walked into the kitchen both Douglas and Darin were there with his mom. “What’s going on?”
“Are you all right?” his mom asked.
How could he tell them he felt hollowed out? That his heart was in California with Phyl and Mark? “I’m fine.”
“Are Phyl and Mark okay? Max called and said they were, but that’s all he’d tell us.”
“That’s all I know. They’ll be back when the cartel is rounded up, and she’s out of danger.” He went to his mother, hugged her. “Are you okay? That was quite a scare.”
“It was. If not for Phyl’s quick thinking, he would have killed me. When they left, I was so frightened. I knew Phyl didn’t have what he wanted, and I knew that man would kill both of them when he realized that.”
“She’s safe now,” Donovan said. At least she’d better be.
“You saved her, Donovan,” Douglas said. “If you hadn’t found that flash drive and called Max…”
“Let’s not go there. Why are you guys here?”
“We came to help. Got here in time to move the cattle up to the corral at the barn. We’ll get them to auction tomorrow just as you planned.”
Donovan shook his head. “It could wait.”
“No, it can’t. It’s in all our interests to keep the ranch going.”
“Why don’t you get some sleep?” his mother said. “I know you haven’t slept since you left.”
“I haven’t.” He turned to his brothers. “See you guys in the morning.”
As tired as he was, sleep was hard coming. He couldn’t stop thinking of Phyl and Mark. He knew they were safe, but did they miss him as much as he missed them?
****
The next morning, Dugan joined them and the four brothers took the cattle to auction. It was like old times, before life got so complicated. The trip to auction reminded him of the time Phyl and Mark were here and went with him.
Later, Donovan stuck a sizable check in his pocket. “Thanks for the help, guys,” he said as his brothers went to Darin’s pickup. “You were a big help.”
“No problem.” Douglas grinned. “It does me good to get away from the office and courtroom once in a while.”
Douglas gave Darin a hand signal that said he would be there shortly, and dragged Donovan aside. “I did some research. Your biological father is dead and buried, just like you heard. There were no other children, his parents are dead and he had no siblings. You’re his only living biological heir.”
“What are you getting at?”
“His estate is sizable. His ex-wife filed suit to claim it.” He looked closely at Donovan. “It could be yours if you want to pursue it.”
“I have no interest in the man or his estate. I want nothing to do with it.”
“Are you sure?” Douglas asked. “It would make you a wealthy man. You won’t get another chance.”
“Forget it. I have everything I want. At least I will when Phyl and Mark get back.” His world felt off-kilter without them. And for the first time he realized how his family had felt when he’d run off to San Antonio.
He waved as his brothers headed for Houston. Dugan went back to his office.
Donovan’s steps were hurried, his thoughts whirling as he thought about Phyl. After a stop at the bank, he passed Potter’s Mercantile. The window display caught his eye. He went inside. It didn’t take long to pick out what he wanted. When he left, he smiled grimly. The kid better get back soon or this was wasted money.
When he arrived back at the ranch, he wasn’t sure about anything. He parked the truck and trailer in the drive and went inside, leaving his package by the door. His mother was alone in the kitchen reading a magazine.
“How did it go?”
“We got top dollar. The money is in the bank. Douglas and Darin are headed back to Houston.”
She got up, fixed him a glass of tea. “Sit down, Don. There’s something we need to discuss.”
Her tone of voice stopped him. He came back to the table and sat down heavily. “What is it?”
“Since the day you came home, we haven’t discussed what sent you to San Antonio. I think we should talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss,” he said stiffly. “I know the facts. That’s enough.”
She laid a hand on his. “No. It isn’t. I’m more than sorry you had to learn how I became pregnant with you.”
It was as if she couldn’t say the word rape. But it hung in the air just the same.
“It wasn’t right. It diminished your memories of your father. That’s the sorrow of it. He loved you dearly. His last words were for you.”
When the tractor had turned over into the pond, while TJ held their dad’s head above water, when he knew he was dying, he’d told her to tell the boys that he loved them all. Equally. At the time they didn’t know why their dad had phrased the sentence as he had. Donovan understood now how important it had been for his dad to say the words. “I see that now. I didn’t then.”
“What changed?” she asked, her voice gentle.
“I did. Having Mark here. I don’t know.”
“You’re crazy about the boy, aren’t you?”
“I am. He made me understand so much.”
“Do you love him?”
“I do. For the first time, I see how my dad could love a kid not his own. I have Mark to thank for that.”
“Do you love Phyl?”
How else could he explain this torment he was going through? “I suppose I do.”
“Good. So do I.”
“I wish I knew when they were coming home.”
She patted his hand.
“I need to tell you something, Mom.”
She looked at him, a bit of fear in her eyes.
“When I left and went to San Antonio, I didn’t think I’d ever come back. I didn’t feel worthy to be a Callahan.”
His mom’s green eyes welled with tears.
“Having Mark and Phyl here has taught me so much. I guess I want to thank you for hiring Phyl that day—for letting them stay and making them feel at home.”
Tears spilled over now.
Donovan pulled her to her feet, gave her a hug. “I want you to know that I finally understand.”
“Thank you, Donovan. You’ve made my heart lighter.”
As was his.
He gathered his package, went to the office and got on-line. It didn’t take long to order two punching bags, one for him, a smaller one for Mark.
Doctor Smith, at the Anger Consultant office, had suggested it would help relieve his frustration.
He could use it now.
Chapter Sixteen
Donovan stood in his jeans and boots, his Stetson low on his head, staring at her. Phyl felt the force of those dark blue eyes pulling her closer. Watching. Waiting. She smiled, moved toward him. She couldn’t wait to feel his lips—feel his body next to hers. Her heartbeat accelerated. He was so close. She wanted him. Had never wanted another man as she did this one.
She reached out, wanting those strong arms around her. “I love you,” she whispered.
He didn’t respond. Before she touched him, he turned, gave her one last guarded look, and walked away.
She sat up with a start, wiped tears from her face and staggered to the bathroom. A dream. Nothing but a dream. She’d had it every night since she’d been here.
Was her subconscious telling her Donovan didn’t want her? After their time at the rock formation, even the homestead, she’d thought there was something growing between them. Something special. Maybe she was wrong.
Or maybe the danger she’d put Nellie in had turned him off. Maybe the family had gone ba
llistic when their mother had almost been killed.
Who could blame them?
Bearing the loss of the man she’d grown to love would be hard enough, but she’d deeply mourn the loss of Nellie, who had become both a friend and surrogate mother.
Mark kept her going. His enthusiasm over Snowman didn’t negate his nightly prayers to “please let them go back home.” Nothing, not even his daily rides on Snowman, could change his yearning for Donovan and the ranch.
She looked at the clock; four in the morning. It was too early to get up—too late to go back to sleep.
Rinsing away the tears, she lay back down, the dim light from the nightlight casting shadows over the room the Mackenzies had given them for their visit, as they called it. Phyl glanced over at Mark on the twin bed next to hers. He was sound asleep. Worn out from his busy day. Thank God for Faith. Mark was eager for his lessons, mainly because once finished he could ride Snowman the rest of the day.
Phyl reasoned that all mothers wondered what their children would do with their lives when they grew up. But she never dreamed that Mark would love the outdoors, love to ride, love the ranch the way he did.
Maybe he’d inherited that love from her dad, or from her. It was a thought.
At five, she couldn’t lay there another minute, so she got up, dressed and went downstairs to the kitchen.
She was sipping a cup of coffee when Ray walked in.
“You get up too early, Phyl,” he complained.
Phyl chuckled. She liked the Mackenzies. They were another example of what a marriage should be. “Work’s waiting,” she replied.
“You work too hard.”
“If I work, I don’t think. It’s good for me.”
He grabbed his own coffee and took a seat across from her. She was comfortable with the ex-FBI agent turned rancher. He was a good man.
“You have that look in your eyes again,” he said.
“What look is that, Ray?”
“You tell me.”
She set her cup on the table, looked over at the man who was old enough to be her father. Was probably more understanding than her own had been. “I miss the ranch, Ray. I miss the Callahans.”
“Especially Donovan?”
She looked at the concern in his deep brown eyes, nodded. “I can’t deny it. Now I think he won’t have me on the place after I put all of them, especially his mother, in such danger.” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “She could have died because of me. The Callahans must hate me.”
“According to Mark, Donovan is more like a dad to him than a friend. How does he feel about you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s breaking my heart.”
He took her hand, squeezed. “If the love is real it will work out.”
She raised tear-filled eyes to his. “Love? I hate myself for bringing such misery to the people I came to love. How must they feel?”
He patted her hand before he picked up his cup again. “You’ll know when you see them, Phyl. Trust me, everything will turn out as it should.”
“Then its time to get to work, isn’t it?” She stood, headed for the door. Stopped. “I guess I should wait for Ted.”
“Ted will find us. Besides I carry a couple of guns.”
“Only a couple?” she teased. “In that case, what are we waiting for?”
Laughing, he followed her out.
****
Several hours later, Mark came racing toward her on Snowman. The sight of them made her all mushy inside. Snowman wasn’t large, but Mark looked small sitting on his back. She couldn’t help being proud of the way he rode.
It was days like this when she missed Donovan the most. No matter what her chore, every time she turned around, she expected to see him. Instead, it was Ray’s pleasant face that looked back at her.
Mark urged Snowman over to the herd. “Watch this, Mom.”
He guided Snowman expertly through the cattle, picked a young heifer and worked her patiently until she was away from the herd. With the heifer leading the way, Mark headed toward her. His mile-wide grin made her smile.
“Mark! That’s amazing. When did you learn…how…?”
“Boy’s a fast learner.” Ray chuckled. “And Snowman’s been trained.”
“Won’t Donovan be surprised?” Mark said. “I can help with the roundup now.”
Not just yet, she thought, but wouldn’t dampen his spirits. “I’m so proud of you. You did that like a pro.”
Still grinning, Mark herded the heifer back to the rest of the cattle.
Mark was going to be a rancher. Just like her dad. She hoped with all her heart that he had the chance.
They worked for a while longer, then went in for lunch.
Today, like every day, she asked Ted for an update on the case.
“They got Gutierrez!” he said with a broad smile.
Phyl dropped her face in her hands. “Thank you, Lord.”
When she looked back up, she saw the serious expression on his face. “What is it?”
“You can’t go back.”
“What do you mean?”
“The FBI want you safe until the trial. Just because the cartel is in shambles and most are in custody doesn’t mean he can’t still get to you.”
****
Days crawled by at a snail’s pace. Donovan wanted to go to Phyl, knew he couldn’t. The drug cartel knew enough to have someone keep an eye on the ranch, possibly tape the phone calls. So he was careful to go into town and use the pay phone at Molly’s to call Max and ask if his FBI friends knew anything about Phyl and Mark. How they were—were they safe? But no one would say anything other than they were safe.
Even though the daily calls to Max yielded little information, Donovan couldn’t stop making them. Max, or rather Max’s FBI friends, were the only link he had to Phyl and Mark. Today, Donovan learned that Phyl’s house had been sold. Nothing else. It was driving him crazy. He was warned about the no-contact rule, but hadn’t realized the loss, the restlessness, the emptiness he’d feel.
His chores grew tedious. He wanted Phyl beside him. He wanted to see those brown eyes turn golden in the sun, wanted to see her hair blowing around her face in the wind. Most of all, he wanted to see her smile.
For the second time in his life, he didn’t have an appetite. Even though his mother nagged him constantly, food went uneaten. Dugan added his opinion with every visit, but Donovan couldn’t change the way he felt.
Knowing Phyl and Mark were safe did nothing to negate the yearning.
Max assured Donovan daily that they were being taken care of. He knew that.
The punching bags arrived. He hung them in the barn. At night when chores and dinner were over he punched out his frustration.
At first, Queenie and Freckles hid. Now, they expected him and the smacking sounds as his fists hit the bag.
Tonight was no different. When he’d exhausted himself, he took a shower and went to bed. As usual, his dreams were of Phyl and Mark.
Night and day they were in his thoughts.
He’d changed. He hadn’t felt this disheartened since the day he overheard his mom and his uncle talking—the day he learned the dreaded family secret. That was nothing compared to how he felt now. It was as if a part of his heart went missing when Phyl and Mark were taken away.
His mom came into the kitchen earlier than usual this morning.
“Am I late, or are you early? It won’t take a minute to have breakfast ready.”
“Don’t bother.” He wondered if he’d ever be hungry again.
She came to him, put her arms around his waist. “She’ll be back. I know she will.”
“How do you know?”
“She cares for us. She’s family. Once this is over…”
“I hope you’re right,” he said as he squared his Stetson on his head and went out the back door. “See you later.”
Chores didn’t take long, and the rest of the day loomed before him. He turned Stormy toward Rock M
ountain. He found himself going there often. It was where he felt closest to Phyl.
He guided Stormy to the small lake that had formed between the rocks, wishing with everything in him that Phyl was there waiting for him.
As had become his habit, he stripped and dived into the cold water. Every day the water was a bit colder. Just like his heart.
He climbed out and dried himself with his shirt. They had to come home soon or he’d go crazy.
****
I can’t stand this hick town—can’t stand killing time just so the local yokels won’t catch on to me. Dammit all to hell, ain’t ever worked so hard for nothing. Talking to stupid ranchers about taking stupid pictures. Dumb asses bought my story. Whole town is full of idiots.
Right now, Gregory Mateo felt like an idiot himself. The bitch and her kid were gone. He wanted to hook it out of here, but the boss was still giving orders from the inside. And his orders were to stay put.
He slammed a hand against the wall of his rented house. How much longer could he keep this up? With everyone else behind bars he was watching his back. Even here they had a sheriff who looked big and bad enough to slam his sorry ass in jail.
So what was the deal? He needed to hide before he was picked up, too.
Dammed if he was going to spend the rest of his life in jail. He hadn’t done anything. Not yet, anyway.
Uncle Al had never liked him, so why’d he send him here? Probably just to get him out of the way. Even at fifteen, he’d known Uncle Al was into something bad, but his mom thought her brother was some big-shot businessman, just showing him the ropes. It’d made it so easy to stay with his uncle and not come back after that summer he’d run away. Uncle Al was okay, a good influence.
She’d died never knowing her brother brought at least fifty percent of the drugs into California.
But Al was always bitching about how he was always under his feet, asking too many questions, getting under his skin. So where was a kid supposed to go? He was a grown man now, but maybe he should have left a long time ago. The need to prove himself had kept him hooked, kept him with his uncle. All he’d wanted was one shot to prove he could be trusted. But Uncle Al thought he was a dummy and didn’t trust him with anything.
Now he was the only one not facing the pen.
Promise Broken (The Callahan Series) Page 15
