That's it, darling, keep him talking until I can make my way to a point where I can get off a clean shot.
Damn, what he'd give to have David Wolfe here right now. The former Dundee agent had been a crack shot. But he was a pretty good shot himself. And this was one time he couldn't afford to miss his target.
"My third wife?" Buck sneered. Wendy squirmed in Buck's arms and whimpered. "Damn it, kid, be still."
Jack wanted to rush the man and beat the hell out of him. Poor little Wendy had to be frightened senseless. Just hang in there, baby, I'm coming to get you. Daddy's going to save you.
Daddy? Jack questioned his choice of words. Wendy's daddy? Odd how at this precise moment he felt such an intense connection to Peggy Jo's child, the little girl who wanted him to be her daddy.
"Yes, Buck, what about your third wife?" Peggy Jo hollered. "Did you knock her around, too? Did she watch my TV show and read my books and tell you to get lost?"
"You got that right, honey. Lindsay was good and scared of me and that kept her in line, but after she heard you preaching women's rights, she took my kids and run off. You're all alike. All you women. You don't know what's good for you. When all a man does is try to take care of you, you walk out on him."
In the distance a siren screamed, its singsong wail traveling on the crisp night wind. Jack prayed the distraction didn't send Buck over the edge.
"Do you hear that, Buck? They're coming after you," Peggy Jo told him. "The sheriff knows you're here. You can't get away, so why don't you let Wendy go?"
"I'll let her go. You come here and I'll put her down." Buck rubbed the gun up and down the side of Wendy's face.
"Mommy!"
"I'm coming, sweetpea. Mommy's coming."
Don't! Jack wanted to scream. Not yet, darling. Another couple of minutes and he'd be able to get a clean shot. But not right now. In his peripheral vision he saw Peggy Jo's shadow as she came out from behind the storm shelter and walked toward the barn. Preparing himself to take a quick shot from where he was, he continued maneuvering into position. Almost there. A few more feet.
Peggy Jo walked right up to Buck. "I'm here. Put her down."
Jack held his breath and ran the last few feet, then crouched down and aimed his rifle. Buck eased Wendy to her feet, and she ran toward Peggy Jo. But Buck grabbed Peggy Jo, hauled her up against him and placed his pistol under her chin.
"Run, Wendy," Peggy Jo cried. "Run into the house."
"Mommy? Fur Ball's in the barn."
"We'll get Fur Ball later. Now, go! Run!"
Wendy ran, but before she got more than a few feet away, Buck pulled another pistol from where he'd stuck it under his belt and aimed the 9mm at Wendy's back. Peggy Jo screamed.
Darrel Mitchell called out from his hiding place behind the tool shed, "You sorry son of a bitch," then revealed himself, brandishing his rifle.
Thank you, God. Thank you, Darrel. Whether or not the man realized what he was doing, Jack didn't know. It didn't matter. Darrel had distracted Buck long enough so that he had lowered the gun at Peggy Jo's throat. A split second. That's all the time Jack had.
Jack took aim and fired. His every thought was a prayer. A deadly prayer that the bullet would hit its mark. Buck Forbes gasped. Blood squirted out of the wound in his head, spit out all over Peggy Jo and sprayed the white snow at their feet. Buck's eyes rounded in shock. He crumpled to his knees and fell over, knocking Peggy Jo to the ground as he dropped on top of her.
Darrel ran forward and scooped Wendy up in his arms. Jack raced down from the small hill east of the barn and rushed to Peggy Jo. He rolled Buck's body over and lifted Peggy Jo off the ground.
"Wendy?" Peggy Jo asked, as Jack hugged her fiercely.
"She's fine. Darrel's got her."
He felt Peggy Jo trembling, tiny tremors at first, then unmistakable shaking. When she lifted her face to look up at him, tears streamed down her cheeks. He covered her damp face with kisses, all the while holding her fiercely, every fiber of his being grateful that she was alive. Nothing else mattered except that Peggy Jo and Wendy were all right.
* * *
The next few hours were a flurry of activity as the sheriff arrived with several deputies. Sawyer and Detective Gifford drove into the driveway five minutes after the shooting.
Jack had taken Peggy Jo inside the mud room, wet a towel and washed the blood from her face. Once she saw for herself that Wendy was all right, she told Jack she needed a shower. He hadn't wanted to leave her alone, but she'd insisted she would be all right. By the time she emerged from the bathroom, wearing her gray sweat suit, an ambulance had arrived to take away Buck's body.
What had happened didn't seem real somehow, Peggy Jo thought. But it had been real, all too real. Buck Forbes was dead. Jack had killed him, and by doing so had saved her life and Wendy's.
The house was oddly quiet as she searched for the others. She found Jack sitting in the sewing room on the half bed, Wendy in his lap. Hetty held Fur Ball, stroking the kitten as she clucked over Wendy and Jack like the mother hen she was.
"Where is everybody?" Peggy Jo asked.
"Betsy and Darrel and the kids are in the kitchen," Hetty said. "The sheriff's gone, but Agent McNamara and Detective Gifford are still here. They've been hanging around to see what you want to do."
"I don't understand," Peggy Jo said, her mind still in a daze.
"Do you want to go home?" Jack asked. "Or do you want to stay here?"
"Oh." Peggy Jo sat down on the bed beside Jack and reached out to caress her daughter's cheek. "Hi, there, sweetpea."
"Mommy, the police took that bad man away, and Jack said he'll never bother us ever again."
"That's right. He'll never bother us again." Her gaze met Jack's as they looked at each other over Wendy's head. "Wendy, do you want to go home or do you want to stay here?"
"All my presents are here, aren't they? I guess we should stay here for Christmas, shouldn't we?" Wendy crawled over onto Peggy Jo's lap and put her arms around Peggy Jo's neck. "Mommy, I'm sorry I left the house and made you worry and … Jack made me promise that no matter how angry I get at you or at him, I'll never run away again. He said y'all wouldn't punish me this time, but if I ever scared y'all again, he'd have to ground me for life."
"Of course we … I won't punish you. But, Wendy, what are you talking about? Since Buck—the bad man—is gone for good, we don't need Jack to look after us anymore. He'll be leaving soon. Maybe tomorrow."
"No, Mommy, Jack's not going anywhere. He's staying with us forever and ever."
"Wendy, wherever did you get such a crazy idea? I thought I explained to you—"
"Why don't you listen to your daughter?" Hetty said. "While you were taking a shower, Jack and Wendy made a few decisions about the future."
Peggy Jo stared directly at Jack, her heart beating wildly. "Just what decisions about the future did y'all make?"
"Wendy and I decided that I'm going to be her daddy," Jack said.
"What?" A hot flush warmed Peggy Jo's body. "Jack, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but—"
He covered her lips with his index finger. "Let's just say that what happened tonight made me realize that you and Wendy are the most important things in my life. I love you, Peggy Jo, and I want us to get married." He ruffled Wendy's black curls. "And I love you, my little darling."
"You love me?" Peggy Jo stared at him, unable to believe what she'd just heard.
"Tell him you love him, Mommy. Tell him, so we can get married."
"Yeah, Mommy, if you don't tell me you love me, too, we can't make our little girl's Christmas wish come true."
"I love you, Jack. I love you."
Jack wrapped his arms around his two best girls.
Hetty smiled triumphantly. "About damn time."
* * *
Epilogue
« ^
Wendy helped Peggy Jo and Jack carry the presents from the hiding place in their basement up to the living room. Wh
ile Jack busied himself putting training wheels on Jed's shiny red bike and Peggy Jo assembled the child-size kitchen set for Margie, Wendy stacked the wrapped items under the tree. Once everything was set, Jack flipped the switch that turned on the twinkling white lights, illuminating the nine-foot spruce tree towering toward the ten-foot ceiling in the living room of the old ranch house. The smell of evergreen permeated the area, mingling with milder spice scents lingering in the air from Hetty's Christmas cooking. The grandfather clock in the foyer struck eleven. Christmas day was only an hour away.
"Dad, you'd better eat the cookies and drink the milk." Wendy pointed to the tray of edible delights Jed and Margie had placed on a table near the tree. "I'll run outside and pick up Rudolph's carrots off the porch."
"Thanks, darling." Jack winked at his eldest child as he picked up a couple of small sugar cookies and popped one and then the other into his mouth. "By the way, I saw you shaking a couple of your presents."
"Just checking to see if I could guess what surprises Santa brought me this year." Wendy winked back at her dad, then left to retrieve the carrots her younger brother and sister had left for Santa's lead reindeer.
Jack gulped down the glass of milk, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made a face at Peggy Jo. "Yuck. I don't see how the kids drink this stuff."
"You're a very bad influence on our children. As a good father, you should set a better example. Hating milk, refusing to eat spinach and letting them eat sweets before their meals. What am I going to do with you?"
Peggy Jo slipped her arm around Jack's waist and sighed contentedly. Jack hugged her, kissed her temple and then laid his hand over her protruding belly.
"You're going to keep having babies with me, Mrs. Parker. That's what you're going to do."
"Absolutely not. This is the last one." She laid her hand over Jack's where it rested on her stomach. "When this little boy makes his appearance around Valentine's Day, we'll have our two boys and two girls. That's enough family for me."
Jack pivoted her around to face him, then pulled her into his arms. "I'm a mighty lucky man. I have the most wonderful wife in the world, great kids, my father's ranch and more love than any man has a right to expect in one life-time."
"I'm the lucky one," Peggy Jo told him. "I'm your wife."
"My wife, my best friend and the love of my life."
Standing in the open doorway, thirteen-year-old Wendy cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but if we're going to get any sleep tonight, we'd better go to bed. Jed and Margie will be up before daylight hollering for us to come see what Santa brought them."
"She's right," Jack said. "Our little hellions will be up at the crack of dawn. Let's hit the sack, woman." He swatted her playfully on the behind.
As they walked past Wendy, Jack reached out and pulled her toward them, then he and Peggy Jo kissed her goodnight.
On their way down the hall, Jack and Peggy Jo paused by each open door. First they checked on six-year-old Jed, who slept in a room filled with cowboy paraphernalia. Their redheaded, freckle-faced son loved the time they spent on the ranch, and even his room in their Atlanta house reflected his Texas heritage. Next they tiptoed into Margie's room, a fairy-tale-princess suite of pastel yellow gingham. A sunshine room. She looked like a little brown-haired angel snuggled up with her stuffed bear in her arms.
When they entered their own room, Fur Ball curled around Jack's leg and purred. Not to be outdone, Wishbone, one of Boots's offspring from her fifth litter, bounded up to Peggy Jo, demanding equal attention. She knelt, hugged the big dog and stroked his silky coat.
Her life was as close to perfect as it could be. A dream come true. A wish fulfilled. She was married to the absolutely best man in the world, whom she found out only days before their wedding was a multimillionaire, having inherited his late stepfather's sizable fortune upon Libbie Reid's death. And she was the mother of three—she rubbed her tummy—four great kids, as well as a spoiled cat and equally spoiled dog. And her highly successful career had made her a national celebrity. Fortunately, she had Hetty at her side, overseeing the care of the children and the running of two households—one in Atlanta, where Self-Made Woman was televised for national syndication, and the second here in Texas, on Jack's family ranch that he had been able to buy back from the people Libbie had sold it to years ago.
"Go to bed, darling," Jack said. "I'll join you in a minute."
He picked up Fur Ball and grabbed Wishbone by the collar. He dropped the cat off in Wendy's room, then settled the dog down on the rug by Jed's bed. When Jack returned to his bedroom, he closed the door, undressed and joined his wife. She waited for him in bed, smiling and naked, her arms waiting to hold him.
And in the quiet, peaceful moments before their eighth Christmas morning together, Jack made slow, sweet love to his wife.
* * * * *
JACK'S CHRISTMAS MISSION Page 22
