Reclaiming Nick

by Susan May Warren

  She stared at him and even pressed her fingertips to her forehead as if checking her head for a fever.

  Oh, sure, act bewildered. As if she hadn’t a clue why he might be back, guns blazing. He shook his head. Apparently time had blinded her.

  As if to reinforce that truth, she said, “I can’t believe this! You didn’t come back to help. You came back out of revenge.” Stefanie’s voice shook. “How long are you planning on staying? Long enough to wreck Cole’s life again?”

  Hey, exactly whose life had been wrecked that night? Apparently she wasn’t only blind but brainwashed. “When did you become his pit bull? Because last time we talked, you were helping me pack.”

  Her expression tightened, along with her fists. “Things change, Nick. And if you’d been around at all, you’d know. Suffice it to say that Cole is a part of this family—”

  “Part of—have you lost your mind? Cole St. John wants to take everything away from this family, just like his mother!”

  Stefanie looked like she wanted to strangle him. “If you’re not interested in helping, then go back to whatever corner of the world you slunk out of. I don’t know what happened to you. This ranch used to be in your blood. You lived for the day when Daddy turned it over to you.”

  He remembered that too, those days when he’d sit on Pecos, surveying the land, dreaming of working it with Rafe and Stef. Seeing pride in Bishop’s eyes. The sharp edge of grief caught him, cut off his words.

  Stefanie put her hands on her hips, staring at the porch floor, as if trying to school her emotions. “I don’t know what kind of man you’ve become, where you’ve been, or what you’ve done. But I would have thought that by now you’d learned to forgive. I guess I was wrong.” She looked up, and right behind her anger he saw the faintest edging of tears. “I have a ranch to run, and I’m not going to let you destroy more lives.”

  He studied her, stymied, and not a little shaken at her words. Destroy more lives? What did she mean by that? He’d returned for atonement, to protect. To be the Noble he should have been. According to his recollection, only his life had derailed that horrible night ten years ago.

  “I have to believe God brought you back for more than this,” Stefanie said, taking one parting shot before she shook her head, turned, and nearly leaped off the porch steps toward their new chef.

  God had brought him back? Hardly. Nick had drifted so far from God’s plans that he hadn’t a clue what God wanted from him. No, he’d simply followed the feeling in his gut. The one that wanted to finish this business between him and Cole once and for all.

  Piper’s words to Stefanie brought him back to the moment. “How about if I get a hotel room? Really, I don’t want to put you out.” The woman smiled, but Nick noticed how she clutched her cell phone in both hands, like a Taser, watching the two of them as if they might break out into a fistfight right in the yard.

  Nick came off the porch. “No, you can have my ro—”

  “How about the hunting lodge?” Stef asked suddenly. “It’s clean, even if we’re not finished with the updates. Will that work?”

  Nick watched relief pass over Piper, as if staying in their house had been her worst nightmare. Then again, he wasn’t thrilled to have her stay with them—at least not until he took the Daisy Duke posters down from his walls.

  “I’ll take you to the hunting lodge,” Stefanie started.

  “No, I will,” Nick said, one step behind her. He wanted his own interview and perhaps to instill in this woman the harsh realities of life out on the range. If that didn’t work, he’d rekindle his assault on Stefanie’s lunacy. Clearly he’d also returned to the Silver Buckle to be the voice of reason. He forced his nicest smile and zeroed in on the new chef.

  Stefanie pursed her lips. “I have this under control, Nick.” She looked at Piper. “You can follow me.”

  “I’ll show her,” Nick growled.

  Stefanie glared at him, wariness in those eyes that used to hold such admiration.

  He turned away, watching the horses ponder him over the corral fence, pitching his voice low. “Let me help, Stef.”

  “I could find the lodge myself. I mean, I made it here, right?” Piper gave the slightest laugh.

  Nick glanced at her and couldn’t decide if she looked nervous or was trying to help cut the tension. Obviously he and Stef would have to work on their welcome reception if they hoped to run a dude operation.

  The thought make his stomach turn. Yes, the hunting lodge had always brought in enough to tide them over during the lean months, but full-time tourists? If the Buckle could keep the land Cole hoped to steal, they could grow extra hay and start a side business. That seemed a thousand times better than kowtowing to cowboy wannabes. He envisioned screaming and injury. And lawsuits.

  He’d have to be on his last pot of beans before he’d open the ranch to a bunch of tenderfeet.

  “Well, ah . . . thanks, then.” Piper smiled. It was a pretty smile, and for a second Nick wondered how he’d turned into such a jerk.

  “I need to make sure you have some firewood tonight too. In case it gets cold.”

  “Would you like a tour of the ranch tomorrow?” Stefanie asked.

  “If she wants a tour, I’ll take her,” Nick blurted. He could hardly believe the words emerged from his mouth. Especially when Stefanie blatantly gaped at him. He shrugged and offered a smile as if to say, See, I’m on your side.

  Apparently he still possessed his Noble charm, because Stefanie’s posture went from attack to wary and she returned a soft smile.

  Tomorrow, right after the tour, Nick would help Piper move to a nice B and B. Or better yet, fill up her tank and send her back to her cream puffs and tiramisu.

  Stefanie’s glare softened. “I’ve got to check on the heifers. Two are due to drop their calves soon. Thanks, Nick.”

  Something warm and painfully familiar filled him, and he turned away from his sister before it swept over him. “Follow me,” he said to Piper.

  She scanned the two of them before she nodded and climbed back into her vehicle.

  He found the keys in the ignition of his father’s pickup and fired it up. Glancing once into the rearview mirror, he watched their new cookie follow in her chick Jeep. More importantly, he saw the look of tenderness that colored Stefanie’s face.

  No, Stef, don’t look at me that way. It only made his chest hurt.

  The bell above the door of Lolly’s Diner dinged as Maggy closed it behind her. Big John Kincaid sat at the counter, chatting with two locals. A couple of teenagers wearing Custer County letter jackets drank milk shakes at one of the end booths that lined the dining car, and a young mother fed French fries to her toddler at the other.

  Apparently she’d hit the four o’clock siesta. “Hey, guys.”

  John touched the brow of his hat, while his friends nodded. Lolly stood behind the long Formica counter, dressed in jeans and a Hard Rock Cafe T-shirt, her long blonde hair swept up into a messy bun. She’d never come to grips with the fact that her twenties had left her long ago. Then again, if Maggy had kept the figure Lolly still possessed, she might wear a tight T-shirt and low-cut jeans too.

  Would Cole even notice? Sadness brushed through her at the thought, and she forced a smile. “I’d like to put up an ad if that’s okay.”

  Maggy had made three ads for a hired man, who could live in their empty bunkhouse and help them run their cattle. She had already posted one at the Red Rooster grocery store and another at the Buffalo.

  It felt like a surrender of sorts. A concession to the truth. She could still see Cole staring at her from his kingdom on the recliner, his eyes hard as she drove away.

  “Sure, honey.” Lolly gestured with her coffeepot toward the town bulletin board. “Can I get you something?”

  Maggy shook her head. She pinned the ad next to one advertising a litter of kittens.

  “Looking for a hired man, huh?” Lolly had come up behind her.

  Maggy stepped back, emotions kn
otting her voice. She managed a nod.

  Lolly glanced her, her hazel eyes kind. “C’mon, coffee is free today.”

  Maggy felt fatigue rush through her as her legs moved toward the counter without command. She slumped onto a stool and peeled off her gloves.

  Lolly took down a cup from the shelf behind her. “Heard some wolves howling last night. John said he saw some on his property. Had to chase them off.” She glanced at Big John as if to confirm it.

  Maggy cupped her hands around her mug as John grunted. She often wondered what Lolly and John saw in each other. Fifteen years seemed too long to wait for a commitment, but their daily banter might be enough for them. In fact, maybe Lolly and John talked more than Maggy and Cole did.

  Was that what their marriage had been reduced to? Occasional grunts of conversation? She couldn’t remember the last time Cole had rolled over to her side of the bed and wrapped his arms around her.

  His tenderness today had made her nearly weep with longing. If only he hadn’t been trying to sweet-talk her out of going back to the doctor. If only he could believe that she ached for his embrace, for his presence beside her to help battle away the cloud of fear that closed in more each day. But as always, doubt hung between them like a barbed fence. His fragile health only widened the space.

  “Have you seen any sign of wolves, Maggy?” Lolly asked, clearly trying to reel her back from her despairing thoughts. For all her mystery, Lolly understood people. She’d appeared nearly sixteen years ago with a wad of cash, landing in Phillips seemingly by accident. It didn’t take her long to decide to stay, especially after she met Big John. She rescued the dining car from the Burlington yard and set up the café within months. No one had ever pried from Lolly a smidgen about her past.

  And she was still waiting for the ring.

  She made delicious key lime pie, however. And offered free chili fries whenever the Custer County Buffaloes won a football game. Maggy and Nick and Cole had spent too many nights here, slurping chocolate shakes, fighting over fries, dreaming of their futures.

  Back then she’d dreamed of being the queen of the Silver Buckle. The woman at Nick Noble’s side.

  “Maggy?”

  Maggy looked up. Lolly had her eyebrows raised in quiet humor. “Uh, no . . . no wolves. Not yet, thank God.”

  “You let us know, okay?” John said. He didn’t look at her.

  She didn’t look at him either but nodded. Clearly, John Kincaid still felt guilty, even after all these years, about firing her father after his many years of service on the Big K.

  “How’s CJ?” John’s friend asked. “Going to enter the Custer rodeo this year?”

  Maggy grinned. “Of course. He’s hoping to go to junior nationals.”

  “I remember when Cole and Nick swept the team-roping championships. Those two could have been brothers the way they worked together. I thought for sure they’d go to Vegas for the nationals—”

  “CJ’s a star,” Lolly said, glancing at the man. Maggy saw disapproval in her look. “He comes by his talent naturally. I’m sure he’ll win.”

  “I hear Rafe took first this year in the national finals in Reno.”

  “He’s riding in the PBA now.” Maggy shook her head. Why Rafe Noble wanted to throw his life away taking on a two-thousand-pound bull made her want to scream in frustration. Then again, Nick’s actions had affected them all in ways no one would have imagined.

  There were times when she wanted to track Nick down and tell him exactly what his temper tantrum had cost his family. Or rather rewind time to the day he rode to the Big K on Pecos and charmed his way into her heart. She would have turned and run to her parents’ trailer instead of joining him for roundup. But although Nick Noble—rodeo star, football captain, and homecoming king—had left scars, the name still had the power to stop her in her tracks.

  Nick . . . and Maggy Noble. Old habits caused her to fill in her name next to his. It didn’t help that it had been carved into too many cottonwoods on the Silver Buckle range.

  And soon . . . St. John land.

  Please, Lord, don’t let Nick come back.

  “The forecast out of Sheridan says rain,” said John’s friend.

  John grunted. Maggy sighed.

  Lolly handed her a piece of pie and a fork. “How are your folks doing in Arizona, Maggy?”

  “Mom got on full-time at the hospital. And Dad’s still doing maintenance at their trailer park. He likes it.” Maggy scooped a piece of pie into her mouth, hating the feel of Big John’s silence. She’d long forgiven him. These days, they all had their own set of problems. Still, old sins took an eternity to die in a small town. She thanked God every day that hers had never been discovered.

  “You tell them hi from me,” Lolly said. She handed Maggy a Styrofoam container. “That’s for Cole.”

  The door opened and Lolly said, “Howdy, Egger. What’s new?”

  Egger Dugan sat down next to Maggy and plopped his dirty feed cap on the counter. Lolly set a cup of coffee in front of him and filled it.

  He sipped it, then looked over at Maggy. She smiled in greeting. Egger had scared her as a teenager, and he still made her uncomfortable. Something about the way the chaw stuck in the crevasses of his teeth. Or those two hound dogs of his that chased everyone in and out of town.

  Something entered the old man’s eyes. Then he nodded, as if part of some internal conversation, turned back to his coffee, and took another sip. “Funny thing happened today,” he said to no one in particular.

  Maggy ate her pie in silence.

  “Thought I saw Nick Noble drive through town.”

  If Piper could have asked fate for anything, it would be to not let Nick Noble accompany her into the middle of nowhere with the sun beginning to dip into the horizon and a lone bellow drifting from some forlorn place between the bluffs. She felt like she should be in the audience of a movie theater, her arms waving in warning as the victim drives away with the serial killer.

  But at least this was better than sleeping in his bedroom. Talk about creepy.

  What if Nick did recognize her? Not as Jimmy’s sister, but if he knew she’d staked him out in Wellesley only to appear here, that might start his detective wheels turning. Thankfully the little go-around with his sister had thrown him off. And good thing too, because just seeing those dark eyes had nearly stripped Piper’s thin veneer of courage.

  Destroyed lives, huh? Apparently Jimmy’s life hadn’t been the first on the list of Nick Noble’s casualties.

  And if she wasn’t very, very careful, Noble might have a chance at her. Not only did he exude a presence that unsettled her, but the way he watched her made her mouth turn to dust. As if he could see right through her, past her agenda, past her anger, and right to her scars and fear that lurked so deep she barely noticed them anymore.

  Until, that is, she got around arrogant, bossy men.

  Unlike Nick’s sister, Piper didn’t fall for his let-me-help plea for a nanosecond. So he used a voice that might make every woman within fifty miles want to believe him. Piper knew better—way better. She knew too much about men to believe a bully like Nick Noble might have a tender, even chivalrous, place inside him.

  Okay, yes, something about the look of shame that crossed his face when his sister accused him of destroying lives had rattled her. As if . . . inside that intimidating exterior lived a man of honor.

  In that moment Piper had felt like a snake. But she had only to remember that even her father had had his moments of tenderness to snap her back to her senses. She wouldn’t let her guard slip again. She could do this. Next time she got a glimpse of that shame, she’d turn it into an admittance of guilt, even a confession.

  And she’d finally publicly brand Nick Noble an outlaw.

  The pickup bumped at a slug’s pace as she followed along the rutted road to the lodge. The setting sun cast low shadows across the hills, and she felt a hint of chill creep into her Jeep and under her cable-knit sweater.

  The
hunting lodge sat in a hover of jack pines and a large honey locust. She felt an idiotic spurt of delight when she noticed its front porch, complete with a rocking chair overlooking a view of the Bighorn Mountains. Part of her apparently thought she might be on vacation instead of on a covert operation involving spatulas and cookpots.

  But if she got near either, the jig would be up. She could barely make toast, and her oven in her two-bedroom condo hadn’t been used since the last tenant vacated two years ago. But she needed only a few hours alone with Nick to wheedle the truth from him. If he was a true cowboy, she’d simply bat her eyes and give him a c’mere smile, and he’d be running over himself to write her poetry and sing her a ballad. Two days, tops. No cooking needed.

  She could fast for two days if she had to.

  She pulled up behind Nick and got out of her Jeep. Nick appeared beside her to wrestle her duffel bag out of the hatchback and carry it into the house.

  A light turned on, spilling out of the cabin windows in a welcome-home glow. Piper stood on the porch, debating her options. The last thing she wanted was to be in close quarters with this man, especially if any of his foul mood lingered. Still, she didn’t have a prayer of coaxing the truth out of him if she acted like a nervous puppy every time she got near him. I am Lois Lane. No, today she was Wolfgang Puck. She painted on a smile, hiked her backpack over her shoulder, and went inside.

  The place smelled freshly scrubbed, with the faintest hint of lemon lingering in the air, as she entered the ancient great room. The log walls gleamed with age and polish. On one side of the room, in front of a copper-toned, ledgestone fireplace, a braided rug was anchored by a worn leather sofa and two burnt red, overstuffed chairs. On the other end of the room, a small kitchen, complete with fifties-era appliances and a microwave, suggested low expectations for the culinary abilities of the guests.

  Of course, that was where she came in.

  She dropped her backpack onto the table.

  Noble appeared from one of the two bedrooms that exited off the main room, as if he’d been scouring for bandits. “I’ll start a fire in the hearth and load the wood burner out back. The place should be toasty in an hour or so.”