Family Ties

by Joanna Wayne

  Ashley opened her eyes and looked around, her breath halted by the huge lump that formed in her throat. The house in front of them was new, yet she’d seen it before, pictured it a million times in her mind’s eye. The roses at the front gate, the circular drive, the white frame structure with the forest green shutters.

  Dillon told her he had built a house, but she hadn’t expected this. This was their house, the one they had planned before the wedding. They’d talked about every detail, in between hours of making love. A dream house for two. A sick feeling settled in her stomach. Apparently he’d decided any two would do.

  She pushed the thought aside and climbed out of the car. She was here for a few days, a week at the most. She could handle anything for that long. She’d be too busy worrying about Lester Grant, occupied with her plans for finding the missing money and putting the lunatic out of her life once and for all.

  Petey grabbed her leg as she started up the walk. It always took him a while to warm up to new places. She reached down to pick him up, but Dillon beat her to it.

  “How about a ride on your daddy’s back?”

  “No!”

  Dillon made the mistake of trying to pick up his son in spite of the protest. Petey swung into action, kicking his feet like a bucking stallion, the right one landing solidly against Dillon’s shin.

  “I guess he’d rather hold his mother’s hand than ride on his daddy’s shoulders.” Okay, it was petty, she knew it. But right now even a petty victory would have to do.

  “He’ll get used to me and the ranch,” Dillon said, undaunted.

  “I’m sure he will.” She led Petey up the walk while Dillon retrieved the luggage from the car. The door was open. No one ever locked doors on the ranch. Gathering her courage, she stepped inside.

  Her breath caught and held. The outside of the house bore her stamp of creativity, but the inside was all Dillon. The furniture was dark and rustic, leather and wood, with bronzed accents and shelves of books. Dillon was everywhere inside these walls.

  The feel of him skittered along her nerves, and she stepped backward. Dillon caught her shoulders.

  “What do you think of the place?”

  “It’s interesting.” The words came out as little more than a whisper.

  “I used some of your ideas. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all.” Trembling, she leaned against the staircase railing.

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, just tired.”

  “Are you sure? The bedrooms are upstairs, but you can lie on the couch for a while if you’d rather.”

  “No, I think I’ll go upstairs and freshen up.”

  Dillon led the way, a curious Petey giving in and letting Dillon carry him atop his shoulders. She followed them into an airy room with a pine bed, king-size, of course, covered in a wedding-ring quilt in shades of greens and browns. The curtains were sheer, letting in streams of afternoon sunlight. A bouquet of roses sat in a crystal vase on the neatly polished bedside table.

  Ashley bent over to catch the fragrance. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Yeah. Mom must have put them in here when she found out you were coming back with me.”

  Mother Randolph. She should have known. Dillon was only interested in getting his son back, not providing flowers for his visiting wife. Even now he must be gloating inside, sure he’d won the battle.

  He had no idea how wrong he was. As soon as she was sure she could keep Petey safe, she’d get her son back if she had to steal him like a thief in the night.

  “I have some things to take care of.” Dillon placed her luggage on the floor beside the huge walk-in closet. “If you need anything, just call Mom. She’ll have it down to you before you can hang up the phone.”

  “I’m sure we have everything we need.”

  “There’s a supply of soft drinks in the fridge and a couple of beers if you’re thirsty. By the way, Mom’s expecting you and Petey for dinner. I hope you don’t mind. I tried to put her off until tomorrow, but she begged me to ask you for tonight. He’s her first grandson, and she’s going nuts.”

  A family dinner. They took them so lightly around here. Ashley had spent half her life longing for one. But she didn’t want this one, not when she was still the odd man out.

  “You can pick up Petey. I’ll pass on this one.”

  “Mom will be disappointed.”

  “Not for long. Petey will keep her entertained. Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow, when I’ve settled in.”

  “If it’s me that bothers you, I’ll stay away.” A smile flashed across his face, and his devastating charm sent a chill chasing up Ashley’s spine.

  “You have nothing to do with it,” she said, sure he didn’t believe her. “If it will make your mother happy, I’ll come to dinner, but I won’t stay late. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll warn her ahead of time. I’ll be back to pick you up. Is six okay? Mom moved the usual dinner time up a little for Petey.”

  “Six is fine.”

  Ashley breathed a sigh of relief as Dillon turned toward the door. Knowing she would be leaving Petey in a few days was bad enough. Dealing with overwrought emotions and taunting memories was doing her in.

  Dillon turned in her direction, stepping closer, invading her precious space. “By the way, I’ll tell Trick to get your saddle ready, in case you want to ride.”

  “Is Surefire…?”

  “He’s still here. I ride him from time to time, but he’s yours. Ride him anytime you like. You have full run of the ranch.” Absently, his hand brushed a strand of hair from her face and then rested on her shoulder.

  Her breath caught and held, and her gaze locked with Dillon’s. His eyes were dark and fiery, and she could almost swear she saw the smoke of the desire she remembered so well.

  “Ashley…”

  “What is it, Dillon?” She leaned toward him.

  “Never mind. It’s nothing that can’t wait.” He dropped his hand from her shoulder and stepped away. “I’ll see you tonight.” His voice returned to its casual tone, and the fire in his eyes cooled as quickly as it had flamed.

  Ashley watched him go, knowing she had to leave the ranch soon. A woman could only take so much.

  ASHLEY PRACTICED her composure all afternoon, but it wasn’t Dillon who returned to take her and Petey to dinner. Instead it was his brother Langley, arriving in his pickup truck with a sack of vegetables from Mary’s garden.

  He caught her in a bear hug and went through the hairtousling routine with Petey. Petey eyed him suspiciously, growing clingier by the minute.

  “You’re looking great,” Ashley said, once they’d settled in the truck.

  “You, too. Motherhood must agree with you.”

  “It does.” For the first time since arriving at Burning Pear, she let down her guard. It really was nice seeing Langley again. “So what have you been doing?” she asked.

  “Playing scientist, according to Branson and Dillon, but I’m getting results. I met a professor over at A&M who is big into breed variance.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “It is. I’ve been running tests, charting, keeping graphs, you name it. In the past, we’ve concentrated on breeds, but the truth is, there’s huge differences within breeds. If we can control those variances, that’s the way to higher production with our beef cattle.”

  “More beef, more income.”

  “Yeah, but that’s not all of it. It’s a matter of pride with cattlemen. You know how competitive we are, even with ourselves. But I’m going on and on. Tell me what you’ve been doing.”

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to tell much. By the time she’d covered the basics, they were pulling up to the back door. Everybody entered the big house through the back door. It put you into the kitchen and into the middle of anything that was going on.

  “Oh, land sakes, look at you.” Mary Randolph pushed through the screen door, wiping her hands on the apron that was wrapped around her
chubby middle. Her short, wispy hair curled around her rosy cheeks and a broad smile lit her face.

  Tears glistened in her eyes as she took Ashley into her arms, squeezing her against her ample bosom. “Let me look at you, child.” She wiped her eyes. “You look wonderful, Ashley. A mite thin, but still as pretty as a picture.”

  For half a second, Ashley had the feeling she was coming home. Then reality pushed the satisfying emotion away. Reaching down, she unclasped Petey’s fingers from her legs. His clinging strength multiplied in direct proportion to the number of strangers.

  “And this must be Petey.” Mary bent to meet him at eye level. “What a fine boy. You come right into this house and see what your grandma has for you. A horse just your size, one you can ride on and not get thrown the way your uncle Ryder does.”

  “Orsey,” Petey said, his eyes growing wide.

  She’d said the magic word. Petey followed her, albeit cautiously, through the door.

  “Is Ryder here?” Ashley asked, as the screen door shut behind her.

  “No, he’s off in Montana, still playing rodeo,” Mary said, chopping the leafy stems off a bunch of carrots. “He’s not going to quit until one of those bulls bucks some sense into him.”

  “Orsey,” Petey said again, spying the wooden rocking horse that had been placed temptingly in the center of the kitchen floor.

  “Yep, straight from the attic to you.” Langley showed him where to put his feet for a boost atop an obviously well-loved family heirloom. Once Petey had the toy in motion, Langley turned to Ashley. “Ryder’s running a close second for the national bull riding championship. It’s not playing to him.”

  “Did he ever marry Sue Barkley?” Ashley asked, responding to the warmth of the kitchen and the unexpected friendliness of Mary and Langley.

  “No, not Sue, and not any of the other hundred or so that follow him around. I don’t understand these women today. They don’t know a thing about playing hard to get,” Mary said, never stopping with her unending chopping, basting and stirring.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “If you want, you could put some ice in those tea glasses. Just four. Branson called and said he can’t make it. He’s grabbing a bite in town.”

  Ashley washed her hands at the kitchen sink and then filled the glasses with ice. Mary always let guests help in the kitchen. It was her way of making them feel at home. It worked, Ashley decided, choosing a lemon from the basket on the counter and quartering it. This was almost like an evening before her marriage to Dillon had split into a thousand pieces.

  Even to Branson’s not showing up for dinner. The doubting Thomas of the clan. But then he’d been right, she reminded herself. His predictions of trouble had all come true. If Langley and Mary knew the whole truth, they might feel the same about her.

  Her bet was they didn’t know. And there was no reason for them to find out at this late date. In a few days she’d be gone again, and she’d return only long enough to pick up her son. After that, Petey would visit them occasionally, short vacations, without his mother.

  Mary left the range and went to watch Petey on the horse. “He’s a born horseman,” she bragged. “Look at the way he hugs the horse with his knees.”

  “That’s to keep from falling off,” Langley said, laughing.

  “Like I said, a born horseman.”

  The phone rang and Langley grabbed it on the first ring. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the anxiety in his tone or the taut muscles that drew deep lines into his face.

  “Looks like you and Ashley will have Petey all to yourselves for dinner,” he said, hanging up the phone and reaching for his hat. “Dillon said to give you his apologies, Ashley.”

  “You have to eat sometimes,” Mary said, the usual smile pulled into a frown. “Dillon does, too.”

  “Later, Mom. Sorry, Ashley. I was looking forward to dinner with a beautiful woman. One besides you, of course,” he added, kissing his mom on the cheek. “Now don’t worry. It’s just a little something that’s come up that needs our immediate attention.”

  “Goodbye, pardner,” he said, patting Petey on the head as he stuck his hat on his own mass of unruly locks.

  “I don’t like it,” Mary called after him. “And you can tell Dillon I said that.”

  Mary walked to the door and stared after Langley. For the first time Ashley noticed a heaviness that seemed to pull at Mary’s shoulders. Her concern wasn’t over a missed dinner. She was used to those, with a house full of rancher sons.

  But it might relate to the episode with the fence. If Ashley got a chance, she planned to ask a few questions tonight.

  DINNER WAS delicious, and Ashley and Mary lingered over after-dinner coffee for more than an hour. Their easy chatter touched on the latest episode of a favorite TV show, the chunky-heeled shoes that were all the rage, even a murder trial in Austin that was the top news of the day.

  And they avoided all the subjects that would have made Ashley uncomfortable. Mary asked no questions about the past and made no comments on the future. But the questions were all there, hiding just below the surface, waiting to spring.

  Still, Ashley was glad she’d come to dinner, and thankful Dillon and his brothers had not joined them. With Dillon, she was never easy, no matter what the tone or subject of the conversation. Too much had passed between them. Too many battle lines. Too many memories and remnants of desire. And way too much pain.

  Working together, Mary and Ashley cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher. When the place was neat as a pin, Mary pulled out the plate of home-baked cookies they had been too full to eat at mealtime. “How about some milk and cookies?” she asked, taking glasses from the shelf and pouring milk into them.

  “I’ll gain a hundred pounds before I leave if I keep eating like this.”

  Mary wiped her hands nervously on her apron and dropped to the chair next to Ashley. “I wish you wouldn’t Leave, I mean.”

  “I have to, Mother Randolph. You know that” Mother Randolph. The words sounded sticky on her tongue, like they didn’t belong. “Why did Dillon tell you I was here?”

  “He said you were going to stay for a while, so that we can get to know Petey.”

  “Is that all he told you?”

  “No. He said you’d be leaving soon but that Petey would be staying with us for a while.” Sadness clouded her eyes as her fingers crawled the pattern of flowers that bloomed on the tablecloth. “I don’t have to know any more than that, Ashley. You left Dillon and now you’re going to leave your son. For you to do those things, you have to have your reasons.”

  “Thank you, Mother Randolph.”

  Ashley broke a cookie into two pieces. The aroma almost convinced her stomach there was room for it. She nibbled on one of the halves before resuming the conversation.

  “Today when we were driving in, we ran into Trick. He was upset because someone had cut the fence by the road.”

  “I knew it. I could tell something was wrong when Dillon walked in the door.”

  “Who would cut the fence?”

  “The same one who’s sending those notes around, I expect.”

  “What kind of notes?”

  “Death threats. That’s what they are, though Dillon won’t admit it. He says they’re from some nut letting off steam. Says it goes with being a politician.” Mary curled her fingers into fists, the veins popping out like linear balloons.

  A frigid cold settled in Ashley’s heart and moved like ice water through her blood. It couldn’t be Lester. He was her problem, not Dillon’s.

  But it could be Lester. No matter how badly she wanted to believe otherwise. Lester admitted he had followed Dillon to Florida. She could understand that. But why would he be making threats against Dillon, unless for some reason he believed Dillon knew something about where the money was hidden?

  “When did the threats start?”

  An engine sounded from the driveway.

  “I don’t know. I shouldn’t
have said anything. I didn’t mean to worry you, and besides, Dillon doesn’t—”

  “Dillon doesn’t what?” He stepped inside the door, picking up on his mother’s words and issuing the challenge.

  Mary’s face turned pink, and she knotted her hands in her apron.

  “Dillon doesn’t keep his promise to get us home early,” Ashley answered for her. Obviously Mary didn’t want Dillon to know she’d mentioned the threats, and Ashley wasn’t stupid enough to get her information source in trouble.

  “It’s time for Petey to get ready for bed,” she added, picking up the empty milk glasses and carrying them to the sink.

  “Transportation at your command.” Dillon tipped his hat, then took it off and set it on the shelf by the door. “Are you ready to go, son?” His boots clicked on the wooden floor as he crossed the room, stopping where Petey was playing with a toy tractor and some horses.

  Petey ignored him.

  Ashley got up from the table and started to gather Petey’s things. She wouldn’t give Mary away, but she had a few questions of her own to ask tonight.

  Chapter Six

  Ashley slowed the rocker as Petey’s body grew still, conscious every second that Dillon was close by. He had asked to stay, saying he needed to become familiar with Petey’s routine and that Petey needed to become comfortable with having him around.

  It made perfect sense. That’s the only reason Ashley had agreed without argument. It was all for Petey. The truth was she didn’t know what she felt anymore, and the information she had picked up at dinner had only added to the emotions that were bleeding her raw.

  And overriding everything, there was Dillon.

  His nearness tormented her with memories that had no place in the present. No matter what they’d shared, Dillon was the enemy now. Given a chance, he would take Petey away from her. He had money, power, a family’s support. All she had to give was love and security. And she couldn’t even offer security until Lester was out of her life for good.

  All in all, having Dillon help with bedtime chores had not made an unusually difficult task any easier. Like her, Petey was exhausted, and with him, exhaustion translated into irritability. He had balked at having his face washed, kicked his feet instead of sliding them through the pajama legs and slapped at the pages of his favorite book while she tried to read it.