He's Got His Daddy's Eyes

by Lois Faye Dyer

  The tall rancher turned his head to look at her, his ice blue eyes remote.

  “Afternoon, Sarah.” The brief acknowledging nod he gave her was polite but reserved.

  Sarah nodded in return and turned back to watching J.J. She’d met Zach Colby several times when she and Josh had been dating, because he was Josh’s best friend. Although Zach had always been an enigma, she didn’t remember that he had ever been quite so abrupt. His attitude just now had bordered on rude.

  Maybe Josh isn’t the only one who hates me, she thought bleakly.

  Josh was aware that Sarah was standing outside the corral fence. He seemed to have built-in radar that picked up her presence wherever she was on the ranch, but he was grimly determined to fight that awareness. The midnight encounter on her porch had taught him just how easily she could push him over the edge and destroy his self-control. He didn’t plan to let it happen again.

  “All right, J.J.” He halted the horse. “That’s all for today. Now it’s Caitlin’s turn.”

  “Aw, Josh,” J.J. pleaded. “Can’t we go around just one more time?”

  “Nope.” Josh dropped the reins, ground-hitching the gelding. The little boy sat solidly atop the adult saddle, his legs dangling two feet above the stirrups, his small hands gripping the saddle horn. Josh reached up and caught him around the waist; J.J. reluctantly let go of the saddle horn and let Josh swing him to the ground.

  “Can I ride him again tomorrow?” he asked, head tilted back to look up.

  “Sure.” Josh knew he had at least twenty hours of work that he needed to get done in only ten hours the next day, but he found himself agreeing anyway. The hopeful intensity of the green eyes in the small, earnest face tugged at his heart, and the swift delight that lit J.J.’s face was reward enough. For what seemed the thousandth time, he searched for similarities between himself and J.J., % ondering if they shared the same blood—wondering how good a father he’d be if they did.

  Sarah barely noticed Caitlin as she climbed down from the corral fence and ran toward Josh. She was too intent on the man and little boy across the width of the powdery arena floor. Whatever J.J. had asked Josh, his response had the little boy grinning with delight. What stopped her heart, however, was the slow, gentle pass of Josh’s palm over JJ.’s ruffled cap of silver-blond hair, his fingers smoothing the tousled strands. There was something so inherently, yearningly parental in the gesture that a lump of emotion choked her throat. How many times had she made that very gesture? J.J. thought himself too old for the many hugs she wanted to give him, but untold times during the day he allowed her that simple caress without protest.

  “Mommy!” JJ. pelted across the corral and scrambled between the bottom two rails. “I get to ride Tornado tomorrow! Did you see me? Did you see me?”

  He tugged on her skirt, demanding her attention.

  “Yes, I saw you. I saw you,” she repeated when he bounced up and down, repeating his question.

  “I’m going to ride just like Josh someday,” J.J. said firmly. “And Tornado is going to run just like Baby.”

  Sarah flicked a startled glance at Zach. “Tornado?” She glanced back at the horse in the corral. The gelding stood quietly, his eyes half-closed, wisps of hay protruding from each side of his mouth while he chewed methodically. She looked back at Zach, and his blue eyes held a touch of humor that melted some of the ice.

  “Tornado,” he drawled in confirmation. “His original owner named him that. I think the man had a sense of humor.”

  Across the arena, Josh stood motionless, watching Sarah smile at Zach, while a fierce twist of jealousy stabbed through his gut.

  “You might as well forget it.”

  Caitlin’s hostile tone brought his head swinging around. The twelveyear-old sat atop the horse, staring down at him with an aggressive expression, her deep green eyes narrowed with displeasure.

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, his own eyes narrowed over her.

  “Aunt Sarah,” the girl said bluntly. “Leave her alone.”

  Chapter Five

  Josh stared at Caitlin, frowning fiercely. “Just what do you mean by that?”

  “I saw the way you were looking at her,” she said curtly. “I’ve seen my mother’s boyfriends look at her just the same way, but my mom is tough, she can handle men. Aunt Sarah’s nice—and she doesn’t need you causing trouble for her.”

  Josh’s frown turned into a glare. “For a twelveyear-old, you’ve got some pretty adult ideas.”

  Shaded with weary cynicism, her green eyes met his without flinching. “I may be only twelve, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot. You leave Aunt Sarah alone,” she repeated determinedly.

  Josh continued to meet her stare with his own. He hadn’t told her she was wrong, because he suspected that she had easily read on his face the hunger that clawed at him every time he looked at Sarah. Given Caitlin’s background with Margaret, he wasn’t surprised by her shrewdly mature assessment.

  “I don’t plan to do anything that would hurt Sarah,” he said finally.

  She stared down at him for a brief, telling moment before her gaze flicked from him to her aunt. “All right”. She straightened, poker stiff, in the saddle. “Do I still get my lesson?” She didn’t look at him when she asked, focusing intently on the gelding’s ears.

  “We made a deal,” Josh said shortly. “You’re, not supposed to swear, but I don’t remember your agreeing not to be an-interfering pain in the butt.”

  Caitlin sucked in a breath, her eyes wide with surprise when her gaze flew to his face.

  “Pay attention,” he growled, and began to explain the proper method of neck-reining.

  For once in her life, Caitlin was silenced, concentrating intently as he demonstrated.

  The three watching the lesson couldn’t hear the conversation, but Sarah could almost see the waves of hostility coming off first Caitlin, and then Josh. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until Josh began to demonstrate reining to Caitlin. Her breath eased out in a heavy sigh; clearly, whatever they’d been bristling about had been resolved.

  Whatever Josh had said to Caitlin during her first riding lesson», she wasn’t telling. Sarah tried to get the girl to discuss it, but gave up when Caitlin stonewalled and grew stubbornly silent.

  Patricia was growing stronger each day. It was only two days after the lesson that Sarah decided her mother was well enough to allow a visit with J.J. and Caitlin.

  “Mommy, why is Grandma Patricia in the hospital?” J.J. queried as they walked down the hall toward her room.

  “Because she had a stroke,” Sarah explained for the tenth time that afternoon. “And she has to stay here until she’s well again.”

  Beside J.J., Caitlin fidgeted nervously, her fingers twisting the loose end of her braid. Sarah caught the small fingers in her own and smiled encouragingly into Caitlin’s apprehensive green eyes.

  “She won’t like me,” Caitlin said, the words coming out in a rush as they stopped in front of the door to Patricia’s room.

  “Of course she will,” Sarah said reassuringly. “What makes you think she won’t?”

  Caitlin shrugged and tugged at her ear, fingering the simple studs—only two per ear—that gleamed silver against the soft skin of her lobe. “Margaret told me she wouldn’t. Not that I care,” she added hastily with an unconvincing shrug. “But I might forget and swear if she yells at me, and I already have four metal washers in Josh’s jar.”

  Sarah saw past the bravado to the vulnerable little girl inside. “Your grandmother isn’t going to yell at you, Caitlin. She’s been very ill and has difficulty speaking. Even when she’s well, your grandmother Patricia can be…difficult, but if you’re patient and let her get to know you, she can’t help but love you.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “I know so,” Sarah said, silently praying that Patricia was having one of her good days and wouldn’t say anything sharply cutting to her granddaughter.

  �
��All right”. Caitlin drew a deep breath, her gaze shifting to the closed door.

  “Good girl.” Sarah glanced around to find JJ. investigating the rubber wheels on a cart a few feet away. “Come here, J.J.”

  The little boy reluctantly left his perusal of the metal brake on the wheel and skipped back to his mother. Sarah knocked briefly before pushing open the door.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  Patricia lay in the elevated hospital bed, reclining against several pillows. Her silvery-gold hair was brushed neatly, her makeup smoothly applied. Were it not for the faint downward twist to the left side of her face and mouth and the wires, that attached her to the heart monitor, she might have been ready to receive visitors in her own home.

  Her pale blue eyes narrowed over J.J. and Caitlin before her gaze flicked to Sarah.

  “I’ve brought your grandchildren to visit, Mother,” Sarah said. Refusing to react to the lack of response in her mother’s silent stare, she took both children by the hand and approached the bed. “Don’t you think J.J.’s grown since you visited us in the spring? And this is Caitlin.” She drew her niece forward to stand in front of her, cupping her hands over Caitlin’s thin shoulders and shifting closer so that they touched lightly, her front to Caitlin’s back, in a subtly protective gesture. “Caitlin, this is your grandmother Patricia. She hasn’t seen you since you were two years old and your mother moved to Los Angeles.”

  “Good afternoon, Grandmother.” Caitlin’s voice was carefully polite, her hands folded meekly in front of her.

  Sarah held her breath while her mother’s sharp gaze traveled assessingly over Caitlin’s face and slender body. At last Patricia lifted a slim white hand and beckoned her nearer.

  Caitlin stiffened under Sarah’s clasp before she stepped forward, halting when her thighs lightly brushed against the soft blue blanket.

  Patricia caught Caitlin’s chin in a surprisingly strong grip and tilted her face toward the window and the strong sunlight. For a long moment she stared at her granddaughter before she nodded abruptly and dropped her hand.

  “You’ve got Margaret’s cheekbones,” she said slowly, carefully forming the words. “But those green eyes and that black hair never came from a Drummond.”

  “No, ma’am,” Caitlin replied. “Margaret says I got them from my father.”

  “Let’s hope that’s all of your father he bred into you.” Patricia’s words were faintly slurred, but nonetheless sharp. “And why do you call your mother by her given name?”

  “She asked me to,” Caitlin answered, her voice edgy with growing resentment.

  Patricia sniffed her displeasure. “I’m sure I don’t know what’s gotten into that daughter of mine,” she said haltingly, struggling with the words. “It’s completely inappro—inapprop—” She faltered, frustrated with her inability to form the longer word.

  “Margaret is sometimes a little unconventional, Mother,” Sarah interjected diplomatically; she could tell by Caitlin’s narrowed green eyes and mutinous expression that her niece had exhausted her ability to be docile and polite in the face of her grandmother’s criticism. She tugged J.J. forward. “Say hello to your grandmother, J.J.”

  “Hello, Grandma,” J.J. responded dutifully.

  Patricia’s blue gaze softened, thawing almost imperceptibly as it rested on the little boy. “Good afternoon, JJ.,” she said carefully. “How are your studies coming along?”

  J.J.’s face brightened. “I can print my name,” he answered, holding up both hands, fingers splayed. “And I can count to fifty.”

  Patricia smiled faintly, only the right side of her mouth moving upward. Her gaze switched to Caitlin. “Yours…”

  “My studies?” Caitlin asked, waiting for Patricia’s jerky nod of agreement before she answered. “I’m in an accelerated program. I skipped third and fifth grades and if I’d gone to summer school this year, I would have skipped another grade and entered eleventh grade this fall.”

  Patricia’s gaze narrowed as if reassessing her granddaughter. Clearly, there was more to this child than the quadruple-pierced ears, the worn jeans, and the aggressively held chin had led her to believe.

  Sarah realized that she was staring at Caitlin with her mouth open, and quickly snapped it shut. She’d known the child was intelligent, but Caitlin hadn’t said anything before about being involved in what obviously was a Los Angeles program for gifted children.

  Patricia lifted a hand to gesture at Caitlin’s ears. “What—” she began, but a loud crash snapped her attention away from Caitlin.

  Sarah spun away from the bed; JJ. stood near the small dresser, ice cubes dotting the pool of water spreading swiftly at his feet. A pink plastic water pitcher lay on its side on the waxed floor, but J.J. held the matching pink lid in one small fist.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” he said quickly, glancing guiltily at the spreading water. “I just wanted to get a drink.”

  Sarah groaned silently.

  “I’ll help him, Aunt Sarah,” Caitlin offered. She hurried away from her grandmother. “Don’t step in the water, JJ.,” she warned as she disappeared into the bathroom.

  “I won’t” J.J. disappeared after her. “I can help.”

  “All right.” Caitlin’s voice carried clearly to the two women. “Here, you take these paper towels and I’ll bring this.”

  The two emerged from the bathroom, J.J. rushing to drop his handful of paper towels in the midst of the puddle of water.

  Caitlin went about disposing of the pool of water, and placed the heavy, hospital-issue brown paper towels into a small plastic pan.

  Satisfied that Caitlin had the minor emergency well in hand, Sarah turned back to the bed and found Patricia intently watching the two children.

  “She’s very good with him,” Sarah said, turning slightly to watch Caitlin supervise J.J.’s exuberant splashing of water from the wet towels into the pan.

  Frowning, Patricia struggled to speak. “Ear… rings…”

  Sarah knew exactly what her mother was trying to say—the older woman hated Caitlin’s double earrings. Thank goodness she didn’t notice that Caitlin has four holes per ear. “I know, Mother, but Margaret let Caitlin have her ears pierced and must know that her daughter is wearing double earrings.”

  Patricia made a lopsided grimace of distaste. “Mar’gret never did…have any sense about fashion,” she finally managed to get out.

  “Aunt Sarah?” Caitlin waited until Sarah looked over her shoulder before continuing. “J.J. is thirsty. Can we look for a soda machine?”

  J.J. jumped down from the chair he was exploring, his tennis shoes thumping loudly against the waxed linoleum floor. “Yeah, can we, Mommy?”

  Sarah glanced at her mother, accurately read the growing frown and guessed that Patricia was about to lecture J.J. about noise and Caitlin about her earrings. “I think that’s an excellent idea,” she said hastily, reaching into the pocket of her shorts for change. “Here’s some money, Caitlin. Why don’t you try the cafeteria on the first floor. I’m sure you can find cold drinks there.”

  Caitlin’s face lightened with subtle relief; she moved across the room to take the coins from Sarah. “Thank you, Aunt Sarah. I hope you’re feeling better soon, Grandmother,” she added politely.

  Patricia managed an abrupt nod. Caitlin turned and caught J.J.’s small hand firmly in hers. JJ. skipped along beside her as they hurried toward the hall.

  “Caitlin,” Sarah called as the two reached the doorway. Caitlin’s ebony braid shifted forward over her shoulder as she looked inquiringly back at Sarah. “Would you bring me a cup of coffee when you come back?”

  “Sure.” A smile lit Caitlin’s face and she and J.J. disappeared into the hall.

  J.J. chattered happily, the sound of his voice drifting back into the room to reach Sarah’s ears before fading away into silence.

  For a moment Sarah wished wistfully that she could go with them, but then, sighing silently, she turned back to her mother and braced herself
for the lecture she knew she was about to receive.

  “Look! It’s Josh!” J.J. exclaimed, his wide, gaptoothed grin white against his summer-tanned face as the two reached the room two doors down, from their grandmother’s. He tugged his hand free from Caitlin’s grip and raced into the room. “Hi, Josh, what are you doing here?”

  “Hi, J.J.” The deep drawl of Josh’s voice answered J.J.’s treble. “I’m visiting my friend Murphy. Murphy, meet J.J.—and Caitlin,” he added as Caitlin stepped inside the room and halted. “What are you two doing at the hospital?”

  “Mommy brought us to visit Grandma, but we’re thirsty so we’re going to go downstairs to the caf’teria and get sodas.”

  Caitlin took three steps forward and stopped, warily eyeing Josh.

  Murphy was lying in a high hospital bed, his right leg elevated with pulleys and encased in a thick white cast. He looked at the children with interest.

  “Wow! What did you do to your leg, mister?” J.J.’s eyes were round as he leaned against the side of the bed and stared with unabashed curiosity at the raised leg.

  “Does it hurt?” Caitlin asked with a worried frown, forgetting about Josh as she walked closer to inspect the mechanical apparatus that kept the casted leg elevated.

  “Nah,” Murphy said with aplomb. “It looks a lot worse than it feels. I got kicked by a horse, but I’ll be out of here and dancing in no time—maybe sooner, right, Josh?”

  Arms crossed on his broad chest, Josh half sat on the window ledge, his booted feet crossed at the ankles, and watched the children with Murphy.

  “Probably sooner,” he drawled, answering Murphy’s question. “But you won’t be riding bucking horses at the county fair this summer.”

  “Hah.” Murphy snorted in disgust “I’m too old and too smart to ride rough stock, and you dam—” He stopped in midsentence and cast a swift, guilty glance at the children. “Dang well know it.”

  “Uh-oh, mister.” J.J. shook his head at him. “You said a bad word. Now you’ll have to put a washer in the jar and shovel horse poop.”

  Murphy stared at him, confused. “Huh? I have to do what?”