by Amanda Renee
Before any profound words could leave his throat, Ms. Henshaw removed an iPad from her briefcase and laid it on the coffee table, pushing it toward him with one long finger. She tapped the screen. A photo of a young woman appeared.
“This is Valerie Green. Are you sure you don’t know her?”
He studied the pretty, blue-eyed blonde. She looked vaguely familiar, but he’d seen girls like that all over the country as he traveled the rodeo circuit. How was he supposed to remember this one?
“She’s from Denver, Colorado,” Ms. Henshaw added.
That triggered his memory. “Yeah, I met Valerie at a rodeo almost three years ago, I think. I’m not clear on the time. We hooked up for a wild weekend after the rodeo.”
Ms. Henshaw’s gray eyes skewered him above her glasses. “Hooked up? Is that your way of saying you slept with her?”
Again, Phoenix was very aware his mother was listening to every word. He was a grown man, and she knew the lifestyle he and his brother Paxton lived on the circuit. Although Paxton’s life was much more colorful than his. The thought of his brother reminded him he had to be on the road in ten minutes, so he’d better get this over with.
For a moment he considered this might all be a joke. Maybe his buddies were getting him back for the times he’d played tricks on them. But one look at the grim reaper’s expression and Phoenix knew the woman had never cracked a joke in her whole life.
This was serious.
“Yeah.” That was the honest truth. In front of his mother. And it didn’t hurt a bit.
The woman touched the screen again, and the face of a little boy popped up. Phoenix stared at the brown hair and the big brown eyes, and recognition tugged at his heart.
“That’s Jake. He’s Valerie’s son and twenty-five months old.”
Phoenix raised his eyes to stare into her steely grays. “You said you’re looking for the father. I’m not the father.”
In response, she touched the iPad again, and a document filled the screen. “This is a birth certificate, and if you look closely you’ll see that you are listed as the father.”
Oh, crap! There it was in black and white. “I spent a weekend with the woman almost three years ago. She liked rodeo cowboys and followed the circuit. If she was pregnant with my child, I’m sure she would have found a way to get in touch with me.”
“If you’re not the father, why do you think she would put your name on the birth certificate?”
Phoenix shrugged. “I have no idea.” He rubbed his hands together, not wanting to appear callous. “What’s happened to Valerie that you’re now looking for the father?” The woman hadn’t given any details, and he was curious.
Ms. Henshaw picked up the iPad and placed it on her lap. “I’m coordinating this case with a CPS worker in Denver. Valerie has no living relatives, and we’re trying to place this little boy with relatives. Hopefully, his father.”
“So Valerie’s out of the picture?”
“We haven’t been able to locate her. Jake lived with his great-grandmother, who had been named managing conservator since Valerie left him to get married. A week ago the great-grandmother passed away. She was found on the floor in the kitchen, and the autopsy showed she died from a brain aneurysm.”
“Where was the boy?”
“This is just an assumption, but when he couldn’t wake his great-grandmother, he pulled a chair to the front door and somehow opened it and got out. He was found on the street two blocks away in nothing but a soiled diaper. Someone saw him and called the police, who went door-to-door trying to find where the little boy had come from. A neighbor identified him, and that’s how they found Mrs. Green. He is now in foster care and not happy. He cries daily wanting Ma Ma.”
Phoenix clasped his hands together until they were numb. The story did a number on his conscience. Could the kid be his? The question went round and round in his head like a lead marble, leaving indentions that he didn’t want to feel.
“Have the police given up on finding Valerie?”
“No, but with few leads they’re stumped. Mrs. Green’s neighbor said that Valerie met a guy who wanted to get married, but he didn’t want the kid. That’s why she left him with her grandmother. The neighbor said the baby was about three months old then, and Valerie hadn’t been back to see the boy since. The grandmother kept hoping she would return. The boy needed someone younger in his life.”
Phoenix felt a tug on his heart again for that little boy. His emotions were getting involved, and he couldn’t let that happen. The kid wasn’t his.
Ms. Henshaw thumbed through the iPad. “The authorities there also talked to a friend of Valerie’s. She hadn’t heard from Valerie since she’d married, but when questioned about Jake, she said that Valerie didn’t really know who the father was. When asked why your name was on the birth certificate, the woman said probably because it was an easy name to remember.”
Oh, man. Even if this was a joke, his buddies could never get it this good or pick a woman as heartless as Valerie Green.
“The woman gave CPS two more names, and we’re tracking them down. Valerie was determined to get child support from someone. That is, until the new man came along and she forgot about the boy. That may be why she never contacted you.” She thumbed through more information. “The grandmother received a good pension from her husband, so the child was well taken care of. I guess Valerie knew that. Now—” she reached inside the big bag again “—it’s time to find out who the father really is.” She pulled out a vial with what looked like a large Q-tip in it. “If you agree, I can swab your mouth, and we’ll know in a couple of weeks if you’re the father or not.”
A swarm of butterflies attacked his stomach, similar to when he slid onto an eighteen-hundred-pound bull, knowing this was it—the truth. He’d either get thrown onto his keister or last the eight seconds.
“Sure. I just feel I’m not the father.” Yet that feeling was slowly waning.
Ms. Henshaw got up and came over to him. Within a second, she ran the swab through his mouth and placed it back into the tube. He noticed his name was written on it. That was it. Easy. The truth would be easy.
She stowed her iPad in the big briefcase and handed him a business card. “My phone numbers are on there. Call if you have any questions.”
“Thanks. How will I get the results?”
She reached for her phone in her purse. “I can call you, which would probably be the easiest way since you’re always on the circuit. What’s your number?”
He gave it to her, and she stored it in her phone. She then turned to his mother. “Thanks, Mrs. Rebel, for allowing me into your home. I hope we can resolve this situation soon.”
His mother stood and shook the woman’s hand. “I hope you find the little boy’s father. A boy needs a father.”
“Yes, ma’am, I agree with you.”
Phoenix got to his feet and also shook the woman’s hand. “I’m a little conflicted about all this, but if I’m the father, I will take responsibility.”
She nodded and walked toward the front door. His mother followed, and his brothers Jude and Quincy came in from the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” Jude asked.
“A girl I spent a weekend with says I’m the father of her baby.” Phoenix had no problem talking to his brothers. That’s how they’d gotten through the years after their father’s death. They shared with and depended on each other.
“Is it possible?” Quincy asked.
“Yep. She put my name on the birth certificate, but her friend said she wasn’t sure who the father was. Isn’t that a touching story?”
“Did you use protection?” Quincy kept up the questions.
“I always use protection.”
“Then you may not be.” Jude patted him on the shoulder. “Did she do a DNA test?�
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“Yes.” Phoenix reached for his hat on the chair. “Now you two can stop smothering me. I may be the youngest, but I’m old enough to take care of my own life, even if I screw up every now and then.”
His mother joined the little group. “Did Phoenix tell you what’s going on?”
“Yes, Mom, I did. And now I have to go to a rodeo. I’ll let y’all know if I’m a daddy or not.”
“Phoenix, I want to talk to you.”
“Sorry, Mom, I’ve got to go.” No way was he having this conversation with his mother.
Quincy was a step behind him. “We’re here if you need us.”
Looking back at his older brother, Phoenix knew he could depend on Quincy for anything. Jude, too. And his other brothers. They were family. But this time Phoenix had to go this alone to sort through his own thoughts and everything that had happened back then.
Phoenix nodded. “See y’all in a couple weeks.” He walked out the door to the truck and travel trailer waiting in the driveway. Climbing into the passenger seat, he said, “Let’s go.”
Paxton shoved the shift into gear. “What’s going on? What did that woman want?”
“Just drive and get us out of Horseshoe, Texas.” Phoenix leaned back his head and pulled his hat over his eyes, hoping his brother would get the message. He didn’t want to talk.
The three-quarter-ton truck pulled the travel trailer with ease, but the ride was still bumpy, and Phoenix’s thoughts were even bumpier. He tried to remember Valerie and that time. It was a little blurry because they were drinking and having fun like he did after a lot of rodeos. Lately he and Paxton had slowed down. He hated to say it was an age thing. He preferred to look at it as maturity.
After the rodeo, Valerie and some girls had come back to the cowboy area and asked if they wanted to party. Of course, that was like asking a cowboy if he wanted beer. They went to a club and danced and drank and then went to a motel. The next night was much the same. Valerie made a beeline for him and they hooked up again. This time he sensed she was on something more than beer and figured she was just a little too wild for him. He wasn’t into the heavy stuff. He was a cowboy. Riding came first with him.
She’d wanted his number, and he’d given her a fake one because he knew he didn’t want to see her again. He remembered that vividly. Little things were starting to come back. Valerie was just a one-night stand. That would be sad if he was her child’s father. That wasn’t how children were supposed to be conceived. Oh, man.
He sat up straight and gazed out at the scenery flashing by. Rural Texas in September was still dry and hot, but the greenery was beginning to fade as signs of fall were creeping in.
“You ready to talk?” Paxton asked.
“No.”
“You don’t have to. I’ve already gotten messages from Quincy and Jude.”
“They’re like two mother hens.”
“You got caught, huh?”
“Shut up.” They rode for a while in silence and then Phoenix asked, “Do you remember Valerie Green?”
“No.”
“I’m having a hard time remembering her, too, but some of it’s coming back. A buckle bunny who wanted to have fun, and now she says I’m her kid’s dad. And don’t ask me if I used protection or I’ll hit you.”
“Why would I judge you? I could be in your boots.”
Phoenix and Paxton had traveled the circuit for years, and they knew each other better than anyone. They liked the girls who came to the rodeos. They couldn’t deny that. The women’s attention was a turn-on. But now Phoenix was wondering why he needed all that attention.
“I don’t feel like a father. Aren’t you supposed to feel those things?”
Paxton laughed, slapping his hand against the steering wheel. “You’re asking me?”
“Right. What was I thinking?” Paxton, with his charismatic charm and good looks, was the proverbial playboy. Around the rodeo circuit he was known as the “Heartthrob.” Women gravitated toward him, and he had his pick of anyone he wanted. At times that had gotten him into some jams. Last year a girl wrecked his whole rodeo season, but he’d straightened up his act, and now both of them were in the top ten cowboys in the country. They would be in Vegas for the big show come December if they didn’t screw up.
“You know, Pax, I’m changing my ways. It’s not a good feeling for someone to come out of the blue and say I might have a son. That’s irresponsible and immature. Dad would not be happy with me. From now on I will be choosy about whom I sleep with.”
“Yeah, right.” Paxton drove past two girls in a red Volkswagen. Once the girls saw the truck and trailer, with “Save a Horse. Ride a Cowboy.” sticker they honked their horn and waved out the window. Right there, Phoenix decided the girl thing was just too easy and he had to be more responsible. He wouldn’t give in to any more light flirtations.
His mind kept rolling with the miles, and he seemed to have a need to look back over his life and the rodeo. It had been one endless party, and he felt the weight of that for the first time. How could he have created a life and not know anything about it? That was unacceptable.
“Why do you think we need the excitement and attention of the rodeo?”
“Go back to sleep, Phoenix. You’re giving me a headache.”
“I’m serious. I think we crave the attention we got from our dad, and we get that from the rodeo and the girls.”
“Don’t bring Dad into this. You’re agonizing over this kid and he might not even be yours. Just go to sleep and don’t think about it until you get the call.”
That was easy for Pax to say. He hadn’t seen the face of the little boy or heard how he was crying for his great-grandma. For his own sanity, Phoenix leaned back and tried to sleep. It didn’t work. In his defense, he worked as hard as he played. It took a lot of training and skill to stay on an ornery bull for eight seconds. This past year they had put in a lot of effort to accomplish their goals, including the ultimate prize—competing, and winning, at the National Finals Rodeo. Phoenix had won the gold buckle in bull riding last year, and he was hoping to repeat. Paxton was close on his heels. If he had to lose, he’d want to lose to his brother.
In Wichita Falls, they switched drivers, and Phoenix drove all the way to Oklahoma. They arrived at the rodeo grounds in the late afternoon. The rodeo was tonight, and trucks and trailers were parked everywhere. The travel trailer was much better than sleeping in the truck, which they’d done for a lot of years before they’d started to make money.
Phoenix pulled up behind a truck and trailer with stripes down the side.
“Would you look at that?”
Paxton sat up and straightened his hat. “That’s a fancy outfit.”
“I’m not talking about that. It’s parked in two spots. That’s not the cowboy way. We respect each other, and that person just hogged a parking spot.”
“Park somewhere else. We have to check in.”
Maybe it was his bad mood, but Phoenix decided he wasn’t parking somewhere else. He was going to teach this person a lesson in manners. He pulled in as close as he could to the other rig.
“What are you doing? We’re too close.”
“My thought exactly. Maybe he can crawl out the window, because he’s not opening the driver’s side door.”
It didn’t take them long to find out the driver was not a he but a she. She climbed out the passenger door and stormed over to them. Phoenix got out and met her and was completely taken aback by the beauty of a woman he’d seen many times, but never this close up.
She was slim, in tight-fitting denim, boots and a white tank top tucked into her jeans...basically the sexiest woman he’d ever seen. A leather belt with a gold belt buckle she had won barrel racing circled her tiny waist. A Stetson crowned her head, and long, coppery hair hung down her back. Her eyes were
the coldest blue he’d ever seen, similar to the sky when the ground was frozen on a winter’s day. A chill slid up his spine.
“What do you think you’re doing? Move your truck. It’s too close to mine.”
“You’re taking up two spaces. That’s not the cowboy way.”
She placed her hands on her waist, stretching the tank top across full breasts. Any other time Phoenix would have enjoyed the view, but he was still in anger mode. “Excuse me?”
“We look out for each other, and taking up more space than you need is not good or respectful.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“I’m not. If you want to get into your truck, you’ll have to move it over.”
“You...you...you despicable, conniving, egotistical...”
A smile touched his face for the first time today. This was so out of character for him. He was usually easygoing and fun to be around. He held up a hand. “I get the picture. You still have to move your truck and horse trailer. It promotes good relationships within the cowboy community.”
“You may have won this round, Mr....”
He held out his hand. “Phoenix Rebel.”
She glanced at his hand and then at his face, her blue eyes now so cold he was tempted to take a step backward. “I know who you are, and I would never touch you. You Rebels are all alike, greedy, selfish and without respect for others.” After saying that, she stormed back to her truck and climbed through the passenger door. In seconds she had it backed up and reparked.
Phoenix crawled back into his truck, and Paxton stared at him with a lifted eyebrow.
“Have you lost your mind? Everybody parks wherever they want. All of a sudden we have rules? No one told me.”
“Shut up.”
“You do know who she is?”
Phoenix rubbed his hand across the steering wheel. “Yes. Rosemary McCray.”
“Rosemary McCray Wilcott,” Paxton corrected him. “She’s divorced, I heard.”
“What else do you know about her?”
Paxton turned to face him. “Let me refresh your memory. Ezra McCray tried to kill you and Jude for jumping his fences. Jude has a bullet scar on his forehead to prove it. Our father, John Rebel, shot and killed Ezra, which escalated the Rebel/McCray feud to high alert. Rosemary is a McCray, and the off-limits sign is flashing right above her head. Don’t you see it?”
